history and reverie

so i spent a day and a half just lying around moping around the house or peddling around the city, visiting different people, and places, and old friends who inspire me and live off the cuff, who have done things and continue to do things against the grain despite the masses telling them to do one thing, the same thing, but then instead following their hearts instead of the other's words. and filling my head with different stories about southern baptist revival singers, and jazz trumpet players, and classical violinists and old motown r&b singers. and i smell the old vinyl records, watch their aged hands move and i'm filled with the smallness of my own youth and a growing reverie for history, and music and those who followed the dark but colorful and free path before me and i travel down these old roads that take me to places like the bayou or some island off the coast of new orleans, some brothel in nashville, or some artsy mid-western bar in chicago with a string quarter, or some lesbian sex shop in hollywood filled with latex and lube. i reckon how comfortable i feel around musicians and lesbians, and people who nourish the artist and musician in me, and the anti-corporate in me, anti-9to5 in me, i no longer giving a shit about so many things except for this anymore. and i remember i don't have any more time for the frivolity of present day society. with this wink and a wave i say goodbye to ye.