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the great sitting
some countries offer free health care. the United States has that "popcorn" phone thing, where if you dial the letters POPCORN, that woman's voice comes on and tells you what time it is. for free! imagine that. hell, as long as the first three digits are 767, you can punch in any other four that you like. such fun with words. pop-pigs. pop-dogs. hell, whatever you want. pop-shit. pop-fuck! the choice is yours my friends. never worry...if you happen to find yourself in an emergency room with a missing limb bleeding to death, being told "no, we can't help you," you may ALWAYS call and check the time to make other arrangements. or just to adjust the watch that fell from your severed arm. glorious.
meanwhile {as i check the time} i wrestle with my computer. not only have i acquired some awful virus, thusly killing my email, and making it nearly impossible to get online, a few days ago the part that holds the screen onto the body of the laptop snapped in half. good lord. it used to be that my energy seemed to effect the internal workings of these machines {i'm not kidding...ask people in the know} but now the mechanics of them? their shells? arghhh. its function rate is at about 20%. {thus pardon my absences if they grow}
this of course creates a problem, as i will be riding my bike to Maine this summer and posting here all along the way, from the middle of nowhere. or sometimes somewhere. needless to say, the burden of needing to buy a new computer to make this happen, lays a bit of weight upon my shoulders. weight that is easy to shift, but weight nonetheless.
and so, my world changes; the computer, simply a small microcosm of so many other things. not broken things, just changing things. i've been thinking for some time now about how i embrace the changes of my life, and what i say to you my dear reader {s}. i've run things through my head a million times, and suffice it to say, that the words still linger and hover in my belly. my chest. oh, but things are changing, and one of these days the flood will rise and swallow us all and carry us. it will have wings like birds, and we will see the earth spinning on its axis from above. i will tell new stories and old ones. so many things you haven't heard. everything will stay the same and everything will be different. for now, i say simply that above the orange trees is becomming a different animal.
one of the two new records is indeed done, and the other is growing closer; albeit slowly. kristina is making her own record, which i dare say from the sound of it thus far will be absolutely spectacular. Tori Amos and Sigur Ros sitting around listening to quiet Radiohead songs. Ron works making sound with the closest of old friends; a flurry of lighthearted music with perhaps a bit of beer here and there. i imagine The Pixies and The Cure all grown up and looking back at the years. and we all chip slowly away at "the work of kings." as for me, if you find yourselves curious, i believe i explained it best at the great sitting. click on why.
may we walk unafraid.
Posted by jeff pitcher at April 5, 2004 12:16 PM
....................................
It's so funny that you mention the time lady. Just yesterday I called her, also thinking for awhile about how many differnt numbers she has.
As for computers, I don't know it Jefferson Pitcher should own such a device, your energy destroys them. Why don't you take a type writer and mail your entries to a friend. That wouldn't weigh to much on your bike, would it?
Posted by: kristina at April 5, 2004 03:46 PM
Last November I left my NY home, work, friends, life, and worldly stuff to go live in a cabin in rural Virginia in the Blue Ridge Mountains. (Actually - I began packing and giving things away and closing down my life there even before I had a place to go.) Now, over four months have past, and I am still me, still tangled in a similar way, but something quietly profound has shifted. (though it may not show up that way to others) I know now that who I am is not about where I am, or what I do. I've discovered that I am more verb than noun, a constantly shifting pattern of perception. I've discovered that grace can't be bought: either through money or meditation. I've found that there is a huge difference between the art that I Want to create and the art that I am Built to create. . . You will find your way on that road, and the bike will become a metaphor for something, and stopping along the way to post will be another metaphor, and you'll discover what sort of pattern of movement you are growing into, and you'll learn where the fixed places are in your heart, your mind. I have a feeling you are off on a grand adventure to a brillinat, still place inside of you . . . and I look forward to hearing your tales. :)
Posted by: katherine at April 5, 2004 03:52 PM
if you would like, Mr Pitcher, to follow Kristina's suggestion, I should be able to outfit your cycle with a manual typewriter...god that sounds wrong on so many levels....
Posted by: ron at April 5, 2004 04:09 PM
God, that image made me laugh, 'adjust the watch that fell from your severed arm'.
Maybe you should move to Canada. All the free health care one could want, and time is of no importance whatsoever.
Posted by: keri at April 5, 2004 04:43 PM
Every day you must say
So, how do i feel about my life ?
Anything is hard to find
When you will not open your eyes
When will you accept yourself ?
I am sick and i am dull
And i am plain
How dearly i'd love to get carried away
Oh, but dreams have a knack of just not coming true
And time is against me now...oh
Oh, who and what to blame ?
Oh, anything is hard to find
When you will not open your eyes
When will you accept yourself, for heaven's sake ?
Anything is hard to find
When you will not open your eyes
Every day you must say
Oh, how do i feel about the past ?
Others conquered love - but i ran
I sat in my room and i drew up a plan
Oh, but plans can fall through (as so often they do)
And time is against me now...
And there's no-one left to blame
Oh, tell me when will you ...
When will you accept your life ?
(the one that you hate)
For anything is hard to find
When you will not open your eyes
Every day you must say
Oh, how do i feel about my shoes ?
They make me awkward and plain
How dearly i would love to kick with the fray ...
But i once had a dream (and it never came true)
And time is against me now...
Time is against me now...
And there's no one but yourself to blame
Oh, anything is hard to find
When you will not open your eyes
Anything is hard to find; for heaven's sake !
Anything is hard to find
When you will not open your eyes
When will you accept yourself ?
When ?
When ?
When ?
When ?
Posted by: blah at April 5, 2004 08:18 PM
{blah} how appropriate...That worthless self-help prattling died with the 80's. Introspection is about self-examination, not whining about how the world does not match your footprints.
Anyone who reads this revealing journal, and understands the nature of the thoughts posted here, know that I am stating the obvious. Perdona me.
Jefferson: your quest is true, may your aim match your will.
Posted by: ChinRingDingO at April 6, 2004 08:48 AM
It's like an addiction.
pitcher, I just don't know where to start. You are only entitled to the things you earn. I presume you feel entitled to a laptop. I'd almost give you mine. Almost. Buy a new Mac, they have a quantum device within. Actually all new computers have this quantum device, no biggy.
You are running, or perhaps I should say riding, away from your responsiblilities, embracing your fears. As I see it.
John Rensing
Posted by: John Rensing at April 6, 2004 10:42 AM
Dingo
For you to presume to know what I meant,
by posting those lyrics on this site…………
well I must good try but wrong
Try again if you like
You can call it prattling, I’ll call it poetry
respectfully yours, blah
Posted by: blah at April 7, 2004 10:43 PM
Not to make this any more important than it is trying to be...{blah} if you are going to post material that did not pour from your own mind, try to include a reference to credit the original prattler if you will. We lyricists certainly enjoy being quoted, but with credit of course. (it makes us all fuzzy and stuff)
Posted by: ChinRingDingO at April 8, 2004 08:41 AM
There is no middle of nowhere, Jeff. And if I hear about the bugs in North Carolina one more time I'll spit on the man's shoe. There's bugs everywhere, ya pieceashit. Think I give two kids about some bugs? I been listening in, don't think I haven't. Wrote this dialogue at 5 a.m. today:
"Is it morning?" She crouched over the embers, looked at the wood he'd gathered that afternoon, scouring the high water mark for drift.
"Night," he said. "Letting it burn down."
"Then come to bed."
"I'll drive down and gas up before Jack locks the pump."
"Do you know a lot of people over there?"
"My brother knew everybody."
"Is that how it works then?"
"That's one way it works."
"How long will it take?"
"Don't know. I never did it from here."
She dropped a branch on the ash coals and waited till it caught, moved her hands out when it did.
"You'll wait it out then," he said and looked off through the black pine trunks to save his dark- sight. The air held filtered starlight, almost no light at all.
Posted by: Ben at April 8, 2004 03:26 PM
Chin - your new website ROCKS! good work, bro. keep it up.
Posted by: miss johnson at April 12, 2004 09:15 AM
I am wishing for your good luck and plenty of bug repellent. Gets bloody humid in July.
Posted by: Rebecca at April 12, 2004 01:11 PM
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