Woke up to sirens. A fire on Main Street in some Pennslyvania town. Wandered through fire trucks and police tape to a smoldering brick building and stared at the rising black plumes. Someone to my left started talking about the Ebola virus spreading and coming to America while other onlookers gazed at the burning building suggesting insurance fraud and grumbling at the number of police standing around idly. I wandered a few blocks and found a juice bar where an old Jamaican woman made me a peanut butter banana smoothie. Content, I wandered around the corner and found myself in an old record store. I stumbled on a collection of old Jimi Hendrix albums Id never seen before- an old blues collection and a archive release called Valleys of Neptune. When I brought them to the counter the clerk got all excited and insisted I take a picture next to the albums and then gave them both to me for free saying he couldnt sell them to me cause I look just like him. Now Im driving through low mountain highways of endless green. Wondering what will happen to these forests and rivers as fracking of the northeastern territories expands. The sky is flirting at the idea of rain and the combination of green and grey soothes my eyes as my vision drifts from newspaper headlines of war and famine to the album covers of a legend. Chaos surrounds. Peace within. Meanwhile Uncle Jimmy shreds and sings through these speakers and out through the ages.
Posted on: Sat, 02 Aug 2014 15:44:41 +0000
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