Burning Away the Carbon
(The first of three posts I'd intended, before Monday night.)
Busy weekend, the kind of busy which leaves you feeling good.
I’ve been knotted up, inside and out. My muscles tight and hard, my thoughts retracing the same dull paths, my soul or spirit or whatever you want to call it, crumpled up like a torn-out sheet of notebook paper.
Saturday. I threw the boyos in the car and drove south to
But South of the
Driving this stretch, I remember I’m in the West, and what that is like. It’s dry, it’s hot, but it’s beautiful – its starkness and cruelty softened this time of year after meager rains turn the grass green and set the cactus to blooming.
I put the only suitable music into the CD player. U2’s Joshua Tree, and Rattle and Hum. The boyos were talking to each other, which freed me up to sing
I found my way to Mr. DeLaClowncar and Peewee’s house sans directions even though this was my first time driving the route. I’ve always been the passenger, and O and I have usually come down at night for the weekend.
The boyos and girlios warmed up to each other pretty quickly, more quickly each time we get together. They played together all afternoon without a single fight, and the three of us talked on the porch, and later in the park. There are six people in the world to whom I can say anything, with whom I can share comfortable silences and understandings with just a look. They are two of those people.
We wound up in an Irish bar and restaurant for dinner – a real stretch for three Micks and their kiddies. Excellent place; they brew their own beer and have plans to distill their own whiskey. So long as it’s whiskey and not potcheen, I’ll be back with my glass extended.
I drove back that evening and managed to miss a downpour in the Springs. I expected to be tired when I got home, but I wasn't. I can't remember when I've felt so relaxed and refreshed. Like a car, I think I need a long, fast road trip now and then to burn the carbon out of my soul.