The View From The Hill
we’re squatting because yesterday we got rained out of the camp grounds. the place has new carpets, so we take off our shoes.
the kitchen is partially carpeted, and a light came on behind the locked door when we got the electricity going. I wish I could still imagine Rochester’s wife or something equally sinister, but it was just rising damp and lots of sawdust.
it was either this place or the theatre, which has been turned into a toy store and maybe a dept store and then left defunct for a couple of decades.
it was labrynthine. I found a clown on a swing and an old Frankenstein. there was a hole in one of the ceilings that peeked right up past the old curtain and up to the dome roof, which looked a lot like the inside of a coal-plant boiler. we might go back.
if I walked along that gutter, I could climb into the festival club. I won’t, because it’s slippery and I’m not really in the mood for talking. I just facilitated a panel and I always enjoy the relief from that sort of pressure to say something.
so I’ll sit on the hill for a while longer and listen to the next band that comes on next door.
No comments yet.