Spilt Wine

After taking some Nyquil the other night, I a strange dream. I had a dream that I was at small coastal town, working as a bodyguard for Ann Coulter.

In my dream, I was standing behind her, providing security as she did a book signing. After the book signing I was invited into a limo with her. We started talking about her book and she asked if I was working on any projects of my own. I told her that I had a blog and that I was about to write an essay on post-modern capitalism. I guess I wanted to impresser her or something.

Does such an idea even exist? Can there be a post-modern capitalism? Maybe we should explore this idea….

I think that there is most defiantly a post-modern economy, where we are moving away from fossil fuels and moving towards energy efficient resources. But I am not sure about capitalism.
Maybe that is what Socialism is?
Not really, but what do you guys think?

Lets play “Deconstruction of Capitalism.”

There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms

There are things that drift away like our endless, numbered days Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made And she's chosen to believe in the hymns her mother sings Sunday pulls its children from the piles of fallen leaves

There are sailing ships that pass all our bodies in the grass Springtime calls her children until she let's them go at last And she's chosen where to be, though she's lost her wedding ring Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds

There are things we can't recall, Blind as night that finds us all Winter tucks her children in, her fragile china dolls But my hands remember hers, rolling around the shaded ferns Naked arms, her secrets still like songs I'd never learned

There are names across the sea, only now I do believe Sometimes, with the window closed, she'll sit and think of me But she'll mend his tattered clothes and they'll kiss as if they know A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone

-Iron and Wine- Passing Afternoon

I sit in form of my computer on a beautiful Visalia summer evening. I have the window open so that I can feel the early summer breeze. The setting sun gives off enough light to keep my office lit. I am thankful for the wind in this moment, because I need to feel something other than sorrow. In this moment, I am drinking cheap red wine (shiraz) and listening to Iron and Wine,( It seemed to be fitting music) all the while thinking about my friends and how they have all moved or will be moving away.

I guess what I am feeling is the letdown from yesterday. On Saturday, we (Super Friends, spouses and kids) had a traffic time Barbecuing and playing disk golf. Two of my friends drove up from San Francisco to celebrate what will probably be the last time "Super Friends" will be together all at once for a long time, because Russ is moving away. With in 8 weeks, I will be stranded in the city I grew up in, while everyone that I have ever gotten close to has moved away.

While playing disk golf, Will and Jason and I were talking. I told Willie, that unlike Visalia, Mooney's Grove park is the one thing that is a constant. It never really changes. Stores, restaurants, and people come and go in this town, but the park will always remain. I feel that way; I feel like am a constant to this town. My friends have come and gone, moving on to pursue new adventures, and I remain here. Not ever really changing.

I forgot what hole we were on, but I told Jason, that this evening was what Visalia summers were all about; walking under oak tress, being with friends and enjoying a good brew and I pointed to the sun set. The sun was setting behind an old barn and to the left of it was a green field of something, probably cotton. Jason, stated that he really missed the farm fields. He doesn't get to see a whole lot of farm fields in San Francisco.

And I am going to miss my friend, for I wont get to see him anymore. And I will continue to miss my other two friends, who I am fortunate enough to see once a month.

I stand where I remain. Where there are green fields, shade under the oak trees and a park, that never seems to change.