Sunday, January 1, 2012

Spirit Lake

A harmonica's plaintive cry more than three decades hence.

She is starting over. Violence like mother nature had never shown before to the second born from a rock and roll mill town family of six (maybe more). At the intersection of the Cowlitz and mighty Columbia if you must know.

Few radio signals made it there. One that did (after sunset) played the music of my parents youth. The rich sound emanated from a rather large box whose back glowed like the campfire light. Magical at the lodge on the shore of the Alpine lake.

Not much. That satisfies the species of our type. We have each other and what little we need is as easy to gather as it is to breathe if we do it together. Such was the appeal of the place not to distant from home in summer and early fall.

A working class hero escapes just long enough to plant the seed of … another working class hero. No, I won't hear of it anymore unless the other lines are sung. And so they just might. Stay tuned. Imagine if you will, the soundtrack is Cohen, Lennon, Young, Cash and more.

So dense no-one can possibly follow the story arch without letting go, perhaps after repetition and a lot. The right producer will understand. Its their job.

That gender confuses me too. But less so now. Volcanic and gentle. And on a cycle. Go figure. So when can we publish? If you don't think we already are, expect a big disappointment. Like the cycle of life, it best never finish. Screenplay without end. To consider this a start is a choice, thanks for joining.

© 2011-2012 Buzz Hill

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