Last night

[jack_babalon]

Last night was fun. Seems so long ago now, a month has been carried in a few hours passing it seems. Went over to the Scholars place. The cave of his room has been converted into a minature city built out of books & CDs. He fired up the computer and we reopened the document vault of the abandoned script. I took a seat and took a few practice shots on his Apple. I always feel like a pilot when I get behind a 'foriegn' keyboard. The controls are the same, but there are little nuances that most be taken into consideration. You have to let the fingers take off slow. If you jump write into escape velocity you'll end up with a paragraph of pure gibberish. Translation turbulence. I take it slow. Cautious steps across the frozen bed of a lake. His pages are set up different. Black words on white give him a headache. He's set his a blue background with glowing orange text. The colors assigned to Hermes in 777. A subconscious invocation of the scribe God of the first democracy. The screen sits to the right, not in front of me. I have to go by faith. The hands become invisible. I sat there doing little else. The weight of it dawned on me. Mental wheels spinning in the mud of trepidation. Then a word. 'Scene'. Then another. And another, I 'Unleashed the word hoard' and five pages spilt out of my hands somehow. The two of us go over it. Minature court room arguements. If it pleases the court your honor, the dialouge was a little clunky there. I object, the subject is under duress and hence is not speaking naturally. Over ruled, but watch your typos councilor. When it hit midnight we stopped. I could feel my imagination purring like an engine. Reving up and ready for cruise control. Cigarettes under the rain. Can't smoke inside. Strategys and traps of circumstance, away from the page we conspire against our character. This was exactly what I needed. Collaboration. Arguement. The excitement of the commerce of ideas. I felt the warm shadow of purpose come over me. This morning did take me off guard. The immediacy of the blood everywhere. The kid sitting there and the tension being tapped out in morse code along my 6th sense. I was derailed. But work is over for now. L____'s not coming over tonight. Soon the house will fill up with roomies and their significant others. The Lynn Ray Youth Hostel will open up its doors and the crowd will wash the reflection out of me. So i'm going to take this rare accident of solitude and soak in it for awhile. Solitude works my muscles the same way a hot bath does. Well anyway, last post for the weekend. Food. Sleep. Now.

Comments

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[nemesisxiii.livejournal.com]

mr. JB,
that was great.... i read your posts, and generally don't comment. the way your words flow and the intense description make me smile. i feel like i met you in a dream or twenty. i miss watching the intoxicated sway of the club as you pumped out the beats......i hope all is well. i hope to see you again some day....your friend,
nemesis

ps- how ironic is it signing something "your friend, nemesis"? it made me laugh!

Re: ......

[jackbabalon23.livejournal.com]

Always great to hear from you too!

I miss those times you took the last set, and I knew I could really Start drinking and dancing now!

[catwalk.livejournal.com]

i have had sparse connection to the internet since wednesday
due to a lightning strike near work and the ensuing electrical surge...
and i feel like i've missed the impact of your posts
because i couldn't read them 'til hours later at home. waah. i whine.
but i've been trying to write out something i've got in my head,
and it's harder than i remember, so i appreciate the accomplishment of creative output.
spurs me on.