Big Bang

"Big Bang!"

earning my yellow belt in history at FSU. minor in English. movies-yes, music-yes. want to work with wood one day. have three kids: fat, small, and baby cat. play football, softball, frisbee, ex-oarsman. potential journalist, history teacher–lord help me. basically waiting for ET to get here already.

Would be a re-enactor for these wars: French & Indian, Revolutionary, 1812, Mexican, Cvil, Spanish, ww, wwii, Cold, Korea, and Vietnam. Can we even re-enact the last 5? Scary thought. Would re-enact the boy hood of Huck Finn. Want to hike the florida trail (it exists) then the AT.

I want to make a  wwi movie (it needs to be done). I want to make a movie about Hemingway. I want to make a movie just as mind-blowing and beautiful as 2001: A Space Odyssey and then do a film as  warm as Annie Hall.

I want to drive across the country starting in Key West and ending somewhere in Alaska. I want make my way around Europe. I want to go to S. America because its Africa’s bastard child. Random fact: the delineated Leon Co. looks just like NY State. As an ex-geography minor, I want everyone to embrace this.

Twenty-one is a hell of an age to actually go to a blog website. Once I stayed in the Leon Co. Motel. It didn’t have color tvs and HBO but the cuisine wasn’t bad. I really must compare with the Prince Murat. the Times called it a playful little resort.

 I dug out my grandfather’s Canon A-1 and plan on learning how to use it. Raa Middle School might be the best school in Leon Co. because it had a wood shop and a darkroom. Gilchrist comes in second by a neutron. Leon High School, Oh! Fair Leon, third, by a hair.

I live in a neighborhood where I have found Indian artifacts. I could have slept for the last 17 years on sacred hunting grounds, a village–maybe middens. I’ll probably never know. I met a man who told me that what we (the olde American government, under Andy Jackson) did to the Indians was a few degrees worse than the injustices his tribe suffered. I thought that was interesting.

You, and not a body living today, spent a single caloric unit of energy towards what happened hundreds of years ago. But history lives.

I am very proud of our little town of Tallahassee. Archaeologists have suggested that the first Christmas was celebrated here by swarthy Spainards. The best piece of evidence they have is forty pounds of fossilized fruitcake. We built our first mall 400 years later; less than a mile from where Miguel came up with the conquestador Chirstmas card theme while Pedro and Fernando cut down the first Christmas tree and decked the tents with bales of moss. Señor Juan Ponce de Leon missed his holiday shopping by that much.

They say there are seven hills  in Tallahassee (but no Romulus or his deadbeat brother, Remus) and that these, “red clay hills of Tallahassee harbor memories dear.” I have been up and over these hills and down in their vallies and have decided that they are brisk and easy piedmonts and indeed harbor a spirit. “I lean and loafe at my ease…” because it really is a loafer’s life here in the South. The only capital to not be captured by Union troops during our Civil War remains distinguished as a hamlet between here and nowhere. Verdant and lush. Springs pool up here. Men meet here to write the law in Summer. Every Autumn, twenty thousand students are released here, but, like guppies, only cling to the edge of town and think that’s all it has to offer. Nothing really happens here. Good. We can focus on the people and not the bright lights. We can focus on our town. I will write about it here. I will write about it here, as Ray Bradbury once said, ”so as not to be dead”.

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