beats

At first there seemed to be an inner circle and an outer circle. The inner circle that I perceived consisted of the drummers. The outer circle consisted of party-people and gawkers, people getting tanked and occasionally watching the drummers. But that's just my little mind creating make-believe divisions...boundaries...I guess. Maybe it's not just about the drummers. Obviously it's not just about the drummers. There are hula-hoopers and people playing with fire and people blowing gigantic bubbles, and there are amazing dancers, and yeah, there are people doing some drinking and probably a lot of other stuff. The circle attracts so many people who are into so many different things. It attracts such a diverse crowd, you really would not believe it unless you went there.

I walked up to this event by myself. I drank waaay too much that first time. I danced. I probably looked like an idiot...maybe I was supposed to be dancing like an idiot...be ridiculous...be ludicrous. Still, I felt like I was in the outer circle, the perceived outer circle. But I was meeting people. The people I met - some have become friends - one, became a really good friend...one broke my heart (My poor little heart. My poor little mind: I'm trusting it's output less and less these days...which means I am trusting it more and more).

After a few months, I got myself a drum. I have no rhythm, I have been told. I believed it. But now...there are times...when it seems like I am completely synched up with the Big Beat. Sometimes my hands fall clumsily and uncertain and offbeat. And I rest...and I wait for the Big Beat to absorb me again, and I join back in...and stop thinkin...

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A friend and I explored a mostly abandoned golf tennis resort. I didn't capture it very well because we were just horsing around, being goofy, not being serious journalists or nothin like that. It was weird to see a place like this - in a condition like this. The place probably used to be full of snooty snoots and richie riches...but now, the weeds and the graffiti and the cracks crept all over it.










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This is place below...is an old place I used to walk or run or ride bikes past...it used to be a happy place...but now it is a sad place...but probably: it is neither. It's just a pretty PLACE...now...in my opinion.




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I do love to be on stage...in front of my sprawling audience of zero.