Monday, September 5, 1994

After the Summer There is Always the Fall

"Sometimes God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers."

-the reverend, Garth Brooks



To give you a glimpse of what will be a fresh, regular feature in the new and improved newsletter, we ask the question, "Tell us the most intriguing thing you heard last week?"



The following are notes I jotted down from the past week, granted a fairly poor one for myself, of things I heard, many which came from the voices inside my own head. For any of you aspiring artists out there, feel free to use any of these in your work. Just make sure you make your checks payable to the newsletter. Thanks.



She was a friend of fate. But was she too late?



I want to be happy, but what can I do?



Now I'm too far down the road.



I'm looking for a woman that don't exist.



Simply smitten in a second.



Jealousy and envy, parallel lines, just like your heart and your mind.



Shot of whiskey, shot of novacane.



Coincidences happen more frequently than fate.



Flying bees.



You may be living on love, but you still have to feed the chickens.



You are a Cancer, but not a crab. I am a Scorpion that's been stung.



Can't get too deep and lose your beliefs.



Microscopic gossip jammed in a jar.



Destiny desires that go too far.



Comic relief that no one asked for.



She put the bang in gun powder.



A rhythm between flesh and bone.



Going down where the river falls.



Why so quiet?



Within your grasp, but you just can't touch.



The higher the hopes, the deeper the heartfelt sadness.



Outta sight, out of memory and mind. Never mind.



What might have been and what is aren't even related.



Don't worry about what you can't control.



Positively subterranean.



Darkest deep brown eyes I've seen.



Shimmering free and flowing clear.



Purr like jazz.



She smelled like the sweetest ocean breezes.



Funkier and more irresistible, more intelligent than six white horses. Beauty to its very core.



Monumental as anything you'd find in Washington DC.



You must look to see the other face in the mirror.



Dreaming in red.



********
Not to make light of the events of the past week, but last Wednesday Ramblin' Rose invited me over to have lunch with her. I wanted to stop at my bank located on Grand Avenue. As I left downtown, I drove up the hill, looked up John Ireland Boulevard towards the Cathedral, where I saw about 9,000 police cars lined up from sidewalk to sidewalk all the way down the road. The police procession was waiting to proceed. I don't know why, maybe the suppressed rebel within, but I had the overwhelming urge to put the petal to the metal and scream on by at about 90 mph, just to see if anyone would break ranks and come after me. But being the responsible adult I've become, I just fluttered on by.



********

On the same subject, while there was something very moving about the outpouring that followed last week's tragic events, and the number of people who showed their support, it also was an example of what is wrong with us. If our community demonstrated that much concern at the beginning, instead of waiting and accepting the end result, perhaps the problem wouldn't be so pervasive. There was a sad overture that played over the event as we watched the two people, who were just doing their duty (their duty being protecting us and enforcing the law) killed at random by someone who has stated he wanted to kill even more. Washington's solution is back ended, to put more cops on the streets and offer alternatives like midnight basketball. But why do we leave it up to people like Oliver Stone to look at the culture that creates this atmosphere? Just when did we reach the point where violence is now accepted as something for which we have no solution? Why does it take a tragedy to make us feel? How, as a community can we prevent, or try to deal with the overwhelming hopelessness and despair that leads to so many lost people?

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