HUDSON III
Summer at the farm has been spectacular in a lazy sort of way. I have been writing music at a rapid pace. I'm not writing that dark heady stuff. I'm writing what could be considered fluff. I am writing almost as though I am in love, not particularly an emotion with much depth I suppose. Moon in June. Versailles in July.
Young neighbor Noman popped over bringing with him the long lost Hudson, now renamed Clark. I had last run into Clark, Hudson, in New York where he had gone to study to be an actor. Genetically the man was born as physically perfect as anyone I had ever seen. All his flaws seemed to be found in his personality. Clark was back for a short visit with his, err family. Apparently he had requested to see me.
Though I don't show it, Clark scares me in an odd way. His vulnerable body language was bad enough but now he was studying to be a professional fake person, an actor, and he already did fake so beautifully that my tendency was to believe anything he said anyway. I had to maintain a defense against that.
We shook hands and he flashed a friendly smile, perfectly shaped eyes twinkled. I thought, "yes, anything you want. Take the farm, take the studio, take Roman." But I said nothing.
I braced myself for it, what was he going to want me to do for him this time.
Instead he explained that he was sorry that he had put me in an awkward position in NY. He had read my account here. "Oh my," I thought, trying to remember what I had written. If he had read that story, then he knows everything else I have said about him over the last few years. My ears were burning like crazy.
I mumbled something about stories needing to be enhanced at bit to be entertaining.
Summer at the farm has been spectacular in a lazy sort of way. I have been writing music at a rapid pace. I'm not writing that dark heady stuff. I'm writing what could be considered fluff. I am writing almost as though I am in love, not particularly an emotion with much depth I suppose. Moon in June. Versailles in July.
Young neighbor Noman popped over bringing with him the long lost Hudson, now renamed Clark. I had last run into Clark, Hudson, in New York where he had gone to study to be an actor. Genetically the man was born as physically perfect as anyone I had ever seen. All his flaws seemed to be found in his personality. Clark was back for a short visit with his, err family. Apparently he had requested to see me.
Though I don't show it, Clark scares me in an odd way. His vulnerable body language was bad enough but now he was studying to be a professional fake person, an actor, and he already did fake so beautifully that my tendency was to believe anything he said anyway. I had to maintain a defense against that.
We shook hands and he flashed a friendly smile, perfectly shaped eyes twinkled. I thought, "yes, anything you want. Take the farm, take the studio, take Roman." But I said nothing.
I braced myself for it, what was he going to want me to do for him this time.
Instead he explained that he was sorry that he had put me in an awkward position in NY. He had read my account here. "Oh my," I thought, trying to remember what I had written. If he had read that story, then he knows everything else I have said about him over the last few years. My ears were burning like crazy.
I mumbled something about stories needing to be enhanced at bit to be entertaining.