Number Nine

Nine years ago, coming off a Lebowski fueled session of late night bowling complete with Caucasians, we stumbled around the world’s biggest little town. Exhaustion, booze and years have left me with fairly hazy memories. There was the crazy lady a couple of lanes over who chucked her ball halfway down the lane with a thundering crash every time she rolled. There was scotch, Highland Park. “See, I told you!” (Or was that the next trip?) A walk down to the river that runs through town. Not being able to actually bowl inside the National Bowling Stadium. Was there an artificial limb in the party ahead of us? More scotch in the parking lot.

And now nine years of laughter and some frustration and excitement and fear and most of all mad love, all of it just seeming like an extension of everything that came before; that line of demarcation just another crazy scene as funny as water wings, as soul stirring as blowing cottonwoods accenting guitar notes reaching for heaven…

Till the wheels come off.


Life Lesson For Today: There is little that a bad mood can do against the mighty power of a little T. Rex.