I Am What I Am And That's All That I Am
Today all I want is a simple mind to taunt me and rake me through the leaves on a simple mind day...
Thanks to Mark Hasbrouk (aka Hazzy) for providing the soundtrack to my malaise.
If the truth be told, I'm actually quite happy. But you could hardly tell from all my blustering. I guess it is times like these when I miss my brooding Nordic brethren back in Minnesota. This ain't New York neurotic. This is clearly midwestern home brewed damp basement aged beer battered thinking I've got going on here. What can an uptight East Coaster do to help me on a night like tonight? What the hell do they know about unseemly urges to lie down in the middle of a country road at 1:00 in the morning? What the hell do they know about drinking Grain Belt with your lover on a darkened baseball diamond and running barefoot in the rain? How can I express the importance of that bend in 394 by the Basillica to someone who doesn't believe there is anything west of New Jersey? I'm a midwestern girl. I'm corn fed and cow tipped. I use vinegar and water to wash everything. I throw a towel over my shoulder when I cook.
It is funny how a person can spend so much time and energy trying to get out only to take everything with them. I'm marked my friend, marked by my upbringing. I will forever be like a banjo among french horns, and that is okay. It is not something I lament, it is just something that I notice. It is something that helps feed my conceit that I understand Arthur Miller in a way that, perhaps no one else has. Maybe, maybe not. One thing is for sure... I can polka like it ain't nobody's bidness and if I could, I'd take you with me right now to show you how a good, clean Minnesotan gal knocks 'em back and dances all night long like livin' is going out of style. And I'd still get up early to make coffee and clean the kitchen.
I am so much where I've been and always where I am.
Thanks to Mark Hasbrouk (aka Hazzy) for providing the soundtrack to my malaise.
If the truth be told, I'm actually quite happy. But you could hardly tell from all my blustering. I guess it is times like these when I miss my brooding Nordic brethren back in Minnesota. This ain't New York neurotic. This is clearly midwestern home brewed damp basement aged beer battered thinking I've got going on here. What can an uptight East Coaster do to help me on a night like tonight? What the hell do they know about unseemly urges to lie down in the middle of a country road at 1:00 in the morning? What the hell do they know about drinking Grain Belt with your lover on a darkened baseball diamond and running barefoot in the rain? How can I express the importance of that bend in 394 by the Basillica to someone who doesn't believe there is anything west of New Jersey? I'm a midwestern girl. I'm corn fed and cow tipped. I use vinegar and water to wash everything. I throw a towel over my shoulder when I cook.
It is funny how a person can spend so much time and energy trying to get out only to take everything with them. I'm marked my friend, marked by my upbringing. I will forever be like a banjo among french horns, and that is okay. It is not something I lament, it is just something that I notice. It is something that helps feed my conceit that I understand Arthur Miller in a way that, perhaps no one else has. Maybe, maybe not. One thing is for sure... I can polka like it ain't nobody's bidness and if I could, I'd take you with me right now to show you how a good, clean Minnesotan gal knocks 'em back and dances all night long like livin' is going out of style. And I'd still get up early to make coffee and clean the kitchen.
I am so much where I've been and always where I am.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 4:25 AM
2 Comments:
::Smiles::
I moved back from Seattle because of things like you mentioned...
In my travels, I discovered that I like home best. Every once in a while I think the grass is greener, but a week (or a month) later, I come to my senses and realise that this is the only place I feel at home. The rest of the time, I feel like I am on parade or on stage...
Of course, not everyone who leaves feels that way, which is fine. But, I can say that my wanderlust has diminished to the point that I sit back and laugh at it whenever it decides to rear its ugly head. "I can travel the world without leaving home". That's how I feel now.
Thanks for the Sat. evening grin.
You're welcome to grin on any day of the week.
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