Justin Stone's creekbed

songs, prayers, poetry, stories, art, photographs, moving pictures, fondnesses, tall-tales and meditations

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Location: missouri, el paso

The Anterior Insula and Hwy W

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

No Small Amount Of Lists

1. I trust you have packed on some emotional weight this holiday season.

2. The script will be about people running. No, not about people running. The script will be people running. But I have not yet figured out a first act break, or the second or third act breaks for that matter. Frantic running. Eyes looking. Emotional terrain. People clutching one another in passion, fear, comraderie. And at some point someone will holler, "Here comes the big one!" But I'm not sure what "the big one" is exactly.

3. 6 billion of us chattering. The universe is so embarrassed right now.

4. Squat thrusts, jumping jacks -- a regimen the Old Coach would be proud of. I'm heavy inside, and I could be accused of some amount of horseplay, as well as some jack-legging. You try real hard wearing gym shorts. The sun drenched the gymnasium and you imagined every one to be looking at you. They were not. It was just loud. The 20-win season aside, this school would travel forward. And you? You live thankful the school continues.

5. The Decadent Life Of The Conscious

8. I was convinced two days ago that if I were to fall asleep I would not awake. But I was so tired. I wanted sleep, but then after I wanted wake. I am thrilled now to be awake.

10. At home he hit every shot. He said, "You should just hit the free throws." You been in the game this long. Put a few people on the court and the shot gets shakey.

6. A home for me, with sun-rooms and night-chambers; space to fill. A fountain, a patio, a doorway onto. Music and friends. Family.

7. The possibility of a fresh set of eyes on this thing.

9. If you stand real still you will see the shapes of all of them move around you. You will hear them. Spook Knee. I was stranded in that field when your face hovered over me. I saw there something certain in the eyes.

11. You get to play in the last couple minutes of the game. The noise is terrific. The game decided. Looking at the third string you lift a shot from the 3-point line and sink it. The world turns electric.

11. The ball clangs off the rim and you never forget it.

9. Gather then those who are left and seek home, hearth. Fire at night brings you back. This is not retreat.

13. Eventually all of the voices are your own.