A Pretty Good Flick…"Lonely Are The Brave"
It was cold in the morning. That and the prairie stretching without end in the first yellow light made running the only thing to do. There was enough frost on the grass to hear a brittle crunch through the front of the shin bones and the air held just enough ice to feel it up inside the face, taking the place of smell, the last of the senses to become finely alert. The pace took care of itself. The rhythm grooved with the inner pendulum of breathing, even the cadence of the mind's reflections as the eyes regarded the vista of open plains and the knowing of my place upon them. A moment in full, leaving no place for other moments past or future. No need for anything else at all.
There was only a singular rise so my strides turned toward it. At the highest point, miles upon miles of grassland extended out and away as if the earth wished to pull apart, making itself longer, making one mile into ten, the horizon logarithmically ever further. Here was the domain of the wind. This was not the northerns that had carried the wild geese away months before. Nor was it the mountain Chinooks of false spring. This was the traveler's wind, that answered those who were compelled to wander and never rest.
Wetting my fingers and holding them high the wind spoke through my hand, my chest and face. Yes…this was the bloggin' wind. My time had come to blog.
How does one become a habitual blogger? It doesn't seem natural at all because I rely on creative thought to spring forth on its own, especially in moments of quiet contemplation. Writing like you are solving math equations is okay, but doesn't carry the ball for me. My wife read an interview with a screenplay writer who had just been successful in selling his script for an upcoming movie. So, like previous efforts too numerous to count…I'm here doing this because she told me to.
Reading an email from my pal, Robert Fox from Taipei this morning, I encountered a well considered thought. He is a grad student in a doctoral program on Chinese interpretation. He is trying to complete a paper and time a vacation down to his farmhouse in the warmer south of Taiwan based on Groundhog Day….and why the hell not? Let yocals and plodders limit their view of the holidays to Christmas and New Years. What about Flag Day, or, or, or Arbor Day? Let the enlightened bonvivant course across the calendar pages like they were stepping stones for his dancing shoes.
This reminds me of the character Walter Matthau played in Lonley are the Brave. He was the sheriff, Morey Johnson who pursued the cowboy Jack Burns [played sooo well by Kirk Douglas], riding his young mare "Whiskey" across the high country of New Mexico. His character was sympathetic to his quarry, a cowboy at odds with the modern world. But above all, Sheriff Johnson was a man above his peers in one remarkable way…he could remember every day of significance on the calendar, no matter how small. Now, how many guys do you run into like that?
Furthermore, lest we become more lacking in culture in the digital age, to associate some special drink with each of these notable occasions. Recall if you would that the pinnacle of modern civilization is the cocktail hour, so let us expand upon what is noble. All we really have now is eggnog [a poor choice] for Christmas and champagne [a better one] for New Year's. How about red wine for Columbus day? For President's day, hmmmm….clear, dry gin. Tequila for Cinco de Mayo, of course. You could get really creative for Carl Garner Federal Lands Cleanup day on September 7th. Everyone would want to get as high as a kite for Wright Brothers day on December 17th. For humanistic reasons, I would propse that everybody have roundhouse sex on Cyber Monday.
"I always carry a flask of whiskey in case I see a snake… Which I also carry with me." W. C. Fields.
This was the quote I selected for my medical school yearbook.