Americana: Memphis

I am back from Memphis with tales and wonderings packed tight as folks nodding to Beale Street Blues and also slightly in romance. It is a giddy feeling on which I will report soon or sooner. I dwelled among the Academics but also old friends some I had not seen for three years, like Julie with whom we had planned to RV to Graceland-- we didnt RV but we still got to Graceland together. And the same doubleheader day we were at a Reception at the Civil Rights Museum. Sheer cultural methadone trip! I should also mention Beale Street, the clang clang clang goes the trolley as well as the Peabody ambience and ducks that scamper down the red carpet as if they were the spice girls to the blaze of flashes.

And my all new shot glasses. Someone crack open the vodka!

Lying Around

I grow rusty, rusty in the rain and in the desert of the prose I sustain.

It Pours

It pours and pours and pours. It is effusive in its pourdom! It demands to pour and so it does, after the opening act of the wind rocking the trees like a headbanger band, it comes to drench the lawns and the windows.

Spring has stepped into full shower, and the world is full of worms happy to squirm and buds happy to bloom.

People are not so happy. Like I. Idlesome loafer. And without the wit of a Whitmanian.

Poof!

Jennifer says she would turn me into stone. I prefer to think of myself as water vapor, actually, someone turn me into water vapor! That's where I belong, barely there but all over the sky, coalescing into clouds. That's my ticket.

At 35,000 feet, you are so light on your feet then--or maybe light on your sphere.

BlueSky

Skyscreen3
Originally uploaded by evita2005.

I had to inject some color.