sounds

Hello darkness, my old friend, I've come to talk to you again,

Do you remember Simon and Garfunkel? The voices of my angst ridden youth.
Yes, it is dark now, well past one a.m. Time seems caught on a wheel that hasn't decided yet if it's going forward or backward.--too much travel. Tree frogs or bats are squeaking outside, … it's an eerie loud sound, like so many mice up in the trees. No, that's not it at all. It's the sound of clean athletic shoes changing direction on a gym floor. I am fond right now of images that evoke a change in direction.

Because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping

I was a geeky college kid, always writing poems and staying up all night just to listen to music. I'll even confess most of it was chick music… Carole King and Melissa Manchester and Elton John. The Moody Blues were setting trends then… An aside: I forgot to mention that I saw them in concert on Father's day… the music was the same, the guys were no longer hot…. And the crowd. Oh dear. Just as you'd imagine. Wrinkled hippies with gray hair. The women should have kept those bras they burned in the sixties… gravity didn't treat them well. And they still wanted to groove to the music. I'm still processing that… always the observer you know?

And the vision, that was planted in my brain, still remains.


My journals from that era are introspective, as though I was aware of metamorphosis and hadn't yet decided what to do with it. Then, as now, I wore as many hats as I could…. I was a sorority girl, but served on the political science counsel (apartheid was our issue, and oil. Sigh. Oil.) I was an editor for the literary journal for three years, but don't think I ever missed a frat party. I was a Serious Student. I was open minded (ha!) about sex.

I just realized what a mess this entry is becoming. Feels good. I'm not a tidy person. I do love a good stack of books and papers to burrow behind on my desk. I enjoy the clutter in my head. There are so many interesting corners to dwell in.

I have one more trip this summer, and it isn't really a trip as much as it is respite. My place at lake Michigan. No fish out there pretty enough to swim out to see, no salt. Just beautiful waves, miles and miles of unspoiled beaches, and if I'm lucky, quiet.

Within the sounds of silence.