Meaningful. Please read.
I went back to Mars Hill today, for what will likely be the last time.
And something happened.
Everything was packed up in the truck and the van. I was sitting in my van, ready to leave, listening to Proudest Monkey.
I had earlier heard profanities being shouted between a woman that my brother and father dubbed "crazy lady" and her husband.
He was yelling about cigarettes and she was screaming F this and F that, calling him every name in the book- he had always been a habitual crack-head.
Well, as we were leaving, he had gone inside and the woman went back outside to talk to my father. I couldnt hear what was said over the music, but something between the lyrics and what I was seeing hit me.
She hugged him, she was crying and upset, and he was saying goodbye, though it likely meant little.
And I had this notion about what was being left behind. Not necessarily that it was us that had left it there, but that it had been there all the time and nothing had been done to save it.
They were people. I suppose something could be said about surviving the test of time, but they were so far gone that I doubt they knew much outside of it.
It's incredible what one can become accustomed to.
My eyes began watering, and I just sat and watched it.
Everyone's in the same boat, and yet on such a tiny raft we cant seem to see the other side.
Some connection. Refusing to be made.
It was almost like leaving a sister behind. I saw what had always been happening, and what would probably never end.
Dying knowing nothing but this.
I never really felt like I was there. I left my attention where it had been the entire time. Back "home."
Home is everywhere.
End.
And something happened.
Everything was packed up in the truck and the van. I was sitting in my van, ready to leave, listening to Proudest Monkey.
I had earlier heard profanities being shouted between a woman that my brother and father dubbed "crazy lady" and her husband.
He was yelling about cigarettes and she was screaming F this and F that, calling him every name in the book- he had always been a habitual crack-head.
Well, as we were leaving, he had gone inside and the woman went back outside to talk to my father. I couldnt hear what was said over the music, but something between the lyrics and what I was seeing hit me.
She hugged him, she was crying and upset, and he was saying goodbye, though it likely meant little.
And I had this notion about what was being left behind. Not necessarily that it was us that had left it there, but that it had been there all the time and nothing had been done to save it.
They were people. I suppose something could be said about surviving the test of time, but they were so far gone that I doubt they knew much outside of it.
It's incredible what one can become accustomed to.
My eyes began watering, and I just sat and watched it.
Everyone's in the same boat, and yet on such a tiny raft we cant seem to see the other side.
Some connection. Refusing to be made.
It was almost like leaving a sister behind. I saw what had always been happening, and what would probably never end.
Dying knowing nothing but this.
I never really felt like I was there. I left my attention where it had been the entire time. Back "home."
Home is everywhere.
End.