Wednesday, November 4, 2009

The Plaka, Athens, 1965

…the streets of my early sorrows where I once lived, loved, wrote, read, painted, first smoked dope…there we were - high above the city on The Acropolis @ sunrise – me and Linda, the light & love of my ever-loving past life!

Now this young love – so real then, so thrilling, so filled with promise, is a distant memory and a, let’s face it, tacky literary device…some people write what they believe others would like to read, hear; others – me for instance, write and make people believe what they are reading, or so I hope.

…a Bach orchestral suite interrupts my reveries…Bach’s 2nd orchestral suite for a flute and, Dude, this guy Ransom Wilson is blowin’ his brains out through his pennywhistle, it is just great and plunges me into a state of introspective lachrymosa, the only place for a melancholy man to be; I tried being happy once, I didn’t like it…I was young, thought there was actually something to it all, that somewhere an uncommon, if lugubrious, destiny awaited me…

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