A body in motion, a body at rest-

all gone Posted by Hello

Whoa- I’m knackered, spent, whipped, done, tapped out. From my stomach to my soul I feel empty. I don’t think it was the ride yesterday, although it was definitely surface of the sun hot out there. As I review the last month of entries to the circus, I realize I have been a very busy man. I re-entered the local scene this past weekend with plenty of riding, rum, and reckless behavior. My living room looks like a luggage bomb exploded in it. The overalls left over from the folk festival weekend are getting to know the nattier threads of the work trip last week. I think I see some sparks between them.

The camp box appears to have vomited its contents onto the floor, and it seeps into the laundry pile accumulating in the kitchen. The coffee table is buried in mail unopened, and the floor beside it is littered like Myrtle Beach with the carcasses of the opened stuff. The T.V. still stands in the front of the room like a struck-dumb idiot who doesn’t realize his microphone is turned off and it is time to abandon the stage.

The rebuilt Dakar of Wacissa fame is locked to the bed of my truck, ravaged by Taco in our frantic effort to fix his deraileur, which came to naught. *(Shins hooked him up yesterday in an 11th hour save.) I haven’t the energy to bring it to the porch. I stare at it like a wounded buddy, and I’m helpless to aid him.

The Dragon, god bless it– has a bent hanger, a dry chain, a coat of dust and mud, but stands ready to deliver punishment like a Navy Seal. It rolls its eyes at my sloth.

I got to bed at 11:30, and up at 8:30 this morning. Then I got back to bed at 10:15 and rolled out at 1:30. In between dreams and waking, I read a few chapters from Deliverance.

I’m re-morning-ing right now, with a second round of coffee and aspirations of going to the gym, washing the dishes, doing the laundry, cleaning the bathroom, fixing “Old Red”, burning some tunes, filing the files, feng shui-ing the living room, and cooking some black beans.

Or I could turn the air down, the fan up, the lights off, the covers back, and get back on the river with James Dickey and the boys.

Does anybody else hear that banjo?

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