August 30, 2002
Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada2:17am. My story is better than what I articulate, and the sexiest stories will never be told. Often I think writing this journal a waste of time when I can't do the story justice.
I don't want to sit here thinking of fancy words to say how I feel or tell what I did today. Yet, I think in sentences... and write them down. Why do I do this? To express myself? To be heard? To toss a stone into the proverbial pond? Do you know what "proverbial" means? I just wrote it cuz it sounded good.
What is the desired effect?
Nikki... Hey lover with big hair. Tonight I was grinding shells in the workshop and thought of you. Yes, I am going to grant your wish, so please send back your address. Hope your shows were a smash. I just listened to your clips on the site. You must send me a CD in exchange for the necklace. My address is:
Cory Richardson
2 Fisherman's Lane
Saint John, New Brunswick,
Canada
E2M-3G9So... I still have not got the Falcon Ridge photos on the site, but I will get at it soon. ...like right now would be a good time. I am tired... having just got back from "student party night" at a local club... and having puffed a few as the herb passed, but often my best, most soulful work, is done delirious from lack of rest.
So love, I'll look for the fotos of you now and send them with this email.
Got'em. It's now 3:22am. I want to edit these photos and get them on the site. I'll make this letter a journal entry.
Goodnight little star
3:41am "A sense of place" just popped into my head and rolled off my tongue as I mumble and whisper alone at the computer. Those words-- they ring true. It is something to think about.
Tonight at the AQ, it was uncomfortably strange swimming through people, shouting polite hellos in faces of folks I know, or a friendly wink if they are more than two feet away. It's not a scene I like to be in for too long. The air is moist from sweat and thick with smoke. I come out smelling worse than if I had been to a bonfire. But I go cuz that's where the people are.
Up stairs at the AQ, I played pool with Tony, who introduced me to his girl Stephanie, who is thinking about making a new kinda school too. Liz was there, bright and beautiful like sunshine, sending out good vibes. She told about her trip down the Tobique River with canoes rafted up and Serge Vautour at the bow strumming his guitar and blowin' on a harmonic. Jeff told me about his work in Vancouver, transforming trashed vancant lots into gardens. Tim, who works on a tug boat, just got back from Haiti. Nine stowaways where found on the barge in tow, and he was given a gaff hook to make sure they didn't get on the boat. Some said they should tie'em together and throw'em over, but the captain wouldn't stand for it. The stowaways found a little piece of hack-saw blade and cut through one of the huge tow chains. I'm rambling. This is not interesting. ah... yes... my point. I go to the AQ because that is where the kids in this city go. I always meet new folks and see old friends. I want to create new meeting spaces to nurture a healthier culture. The AQ is lame. O'leary's open mike is good. We could do better.
6:57pm. Scratched on a note pad, I found: "Wade Davis - The Serpent and the Rainbow." I forget where it came from, but after searching it on the net, I'm now reading Wade's thoughts on the "ethnosphere," our planet's cultural and spiritual web of life. The following is an excerpt from a his interview on the National Geographic website:
Think for a moment about our social structure. An anthropologist looking at us from the outside would see a culture that reveres marriage, yet allows half of its marriages to end in divorce; that admires its elderly, yet permits grandparents to live with grandchildren in only 6 percent of its households; that loves its children yet embraces a slogan—24/7—that implies total devotion to the workplace at the expense of family. By the age of 18, the average American child has spent two full years watching television and too little time with his parents.
I'm now checking out Wade's site, Cultures on the Edge.
11pm. Tonight, I went to the fair alone. It was so much smaller than I remember. Didn't go on any rides. The scene was whack. Mostly just teeny-boppers. A guy in one of the booths- throw the dart to hit a balloon.... he was telling me about a guy who does slide shows in the park. "The guy has been around the world at least three times!" he said.
"I'm curious to know who he is..." I said, "cuz I do shows in the park too."
"He rides a five foot long skateboard," he said. I laughed. The legend is growing.
