An English In Kentucky


















February 20th 2009

    So it's done.  We are ready to leave.  The vehicle is packed.  And now I recall how once we might have  accomplished this past week in an afternoon.  In those days we traveled three months of the year. We were adept in that river, casual in the hotel foyer, early to setup, quick to take down, drive all night to get home.

    We had grown sour of course.  Our innocent souls lost to 'product'.  And increasingly to that bastard of an expression 'the business of art' as though life was the progeny of bankers, lawyers and accountants.  Selling soap to prisoners.  Remember perhaps that array of words which attempt to define greed politely, or define it reasonably, or define it with purpose.


    Then how proud I was when the wife determined to 'eat worms' rather than consign her work to the buffalo breed of shop owner.  Dainty nailed people, planning an idle future on the backs of someone else.

    I do know why Lenin hoped to pay coalminers more than doctors.  With this mood I am ready for the world beyond the aedicule.  

    And we both are ready for traffic.

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