198 Miles

Saturday, March 19

Dance 4 Lyfe

I always miss the exit to Interstate 205 when I'm driving home from Seattle alone. I delve into my own private world and once there it's hard to recall me from it. It's especially hard when your a voiceless sign alongside the highway. I wonder if road signs ever get lonely.

Which reminds me of an idea I had once. Dancing is a powerful medium of expression, yes? Only robots don't like dancing. Regardless, it would be wonderful set up people at a sequence of light posts down a main interstate. You know, those giant light posts that jut out besides the big roads of america like nerve endings from a spinal cord. They turn black night to orange puff. Magic.

At each light post a person would be dancing. Really getting into their jam. Smooth moves galore. Then maybe at the front of the sequence a sign would be placed, saying something along the lines of "tune your radio to 98.6, por favor!" And then the nice compliant driver would comply, and something along the lines of Green Onions by Booker T and the MG's would drift out of their car speakers, and the people standing by the roadside and the light poles would be dancing to the same song, and everything would feel really nice.

Yeah, I would really like that.

To tell you the truth, there are a lot of thingsss I am feeling right now. Or avoiding feeling. Among them, my Grandpa is here and tomorrow him and I drive down to Medford to meet my family there. But that means it is just him and I in the big Lone Elder house. And who isn't nervous staying by themselves in their parents house?

I am.

I anticipate a lot of good writing material in the wake of all this driving and relational time with relatives. Activities as liturgical as driving awake my brain. Or at least, I wake up enough to miss the exit signs for subsequent interstates.
Hopefully I will scope out a few new spots to implement my dancing plans. I love public space, and I love seeing it filled by the public. Next time your driving and Green Onions blares over the car radio, watch out. A revolution might be taking place outside your car window.

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