Ya know what. I miss my friend Ben Barfoot. And nothing can bring him back, and I am so fucking angry about that. And at him. And at it all. And I'm pissed at his ass for leaving and, well, making it so that I put him in this place in my universe that I wanna discuss these ridiculous things going on….and I feel that with his apt summations, he would get the humor and the gist of it all…and in the end, as was protocol with Ben…, I wouldn't feel so very alone. As I do now.
Do not get me wrong. I know I hold him in a certain place of expectation, but well, once you are completely alone in a place that on midnight you arrive, September 11th happens….and he keeps you company and is the only feeling of safe that you can possibly feel…..that holds a lot of weight for this girl.
Something about driving by Camelot Music er whatever the hell it was called maybe at the same time Greg Folkes was also there ….on McGhee road (across from Mgm Mall), when I was maybe 17 and would drive by and see(or not see) his brown pick up truck. Even typing this on my totally inane blog lessens it.
Remember that feeling of total rush to the skin, simplistic fucking thrills, even without the caffeine? I remember diving in fountains downtown Montgomery, 123 Coosa Street, Pajama Jammie Jams, shrooms, beer, and on and on, and hopping roof tops with Bobby Bowen…and being terrified but just going with the flow…or @ Hank William's grave... just touching the stone with a hint of reverence...and sharin beers…where yer like 16….Because that time to me was so specific. And heightened. That even now, I can hardly write about it. Because when I do, there's so much that is missing. The band room. Driving in my first car, red toyota corolla, and being so very enamored with Brian Hinton, and Josh, the morman hottie band mate. We had our space heater, white lights, and music. And that was heaven to me. Truly. Downtown Wetumpka, just me and Brian, slow dancing to Jimmy Hendrix, and the first I heard of Tracy Chapman's fast car.He smoked clove cigarettes and to this day it still makes my knees buckle.
I told him I was gonna move to New York and he didn't get it.
I remember being sad about that because he had introduced me to the allman brothers and well, if he didn't get it, well. (i dunno how to finish that sentence)..funny how much I edit myself. Over and over.
Mary's Pet Rock, Andy jackson, joe maracek, and those kinda things. These memories are a few of my favorite things….
Ever since I was pretty young I felt the need to keep an account of things….a journal of sorts…a hard and fast internal rule of keeping things that reminded me of the times I was happy. Because I felt I would disappear early….pass away youngish.
And dammit that sucks.
The hardest part of that notion and instinct with me has always been that it would upset my mama and Susie.
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