Man, I'm tuned.
It's rained maybe twice this summer, and the news said we might have a
thunderstorm tonight. It's been near 100 degrees all weekend. I'd welcome
rain like a brother.
I told Susi, "I'm goin' out. Gonna do a raindance."
She, of course gave me that "You're nuts, but I knew that when I married you"
look.
I stepped out the front door and shook my meaty ass a bit, and said to no
deity and particular, "C'mon, fuckin' rain".
A drop hit me on my t-shirt.
And another.
And about two minutes I felt myself begin to tune.
The rain was falling in buckets, and I was standing all alone in the
courtyard, right in the middle of the downpour.
I was seized up in the now, feeling the cool wind whipping around me, the air
fresh and sweet. The rain fell hard and cold on my bald head, running down in
rivulets. From a nearby vacant apartment I could hear Stan the maintenance
man's CD player blasting out the ten minute instrumental intro to Pink Floyd's
"Shine On You Crazy Diamond". I knew that the other tenants in my apartment
complex were staring out their windows at me, thinking me mad. I didn't give
a shit. The poor fools didn't know what they were missing.
I stood there for the duration of the storm, lightning crashing violently,
wind ripping leaves from the trees, and rain like a deluge on me.
A chubby girl about ten years old came out of her apartment and walked over to
me grinning. She knew why I was out there, when all of the older and wiser
didn't. Other kids came and stared out their windows, wanting to come out,
too, but their parents wouldn't let them. Perish forbid! Only FOOLS don't
have the sense to come in out of the rain.
But if that makes me a fool, then hand me the pointed hat. That wasn't rain
that fell from the sky on me this evening.
It was just wet slack.
Dr. K. "Cortez" Legume
Mecagum les cinc llagues de Crist,
mecagum D'eu, en la creu, en el fuster
que la fue i en fill de puta que va plantar el pi
Original file name: Slack is where you find it
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