Tuesday, July 12, 2011

A Favorite Spot In My Old Home Town

Old Guilford Mill, Greensboro, NC
I consider Greensboro my adult home town, and Miami my childhood home town. Both were radically different cultures to the point that I had to learn the language upon moving to NC in my very early twenties. They sure did have more than their fair share of good looking, rather friendly women. Holy smoke. I was doomed from the get go, I see that now. And they were wilder partiers than those Florida people would have believed at the time. I was doomed doomed doomed. It is a miracle I survived, and a damned shame I did not hold on to one of those dames for dear life, crank out kids and be useful and involved. Oh well.

More of Joel and John's spellbinding dialog. I'm beginning to see how I could anger a person who actually knows something or thinks. But, I'm sure I'm wrong about that. He was born in Walden Pond. Thoreau broke down and got the doctor out there. They weren't sure what it was at first. The doctor confirmed it was neither tumor nor goat nor Clint Eastwood, but similar in ways. And that was the beginning of Joel's tour of this planet. He was doomed to a tour clouded with philosophy and intellect. And a very rare talent for arm wrestling. He should have hustled more bets on that--he'd be rich today.

This is where the grits I gave to my dear cousin J came from. She fixed them for breakfast when I left. They were so good I forgot about everything else, like leaving the spare key instead of taking it with me. She is wealthy and has rooms full of gold, so I am auctioning the key on ebay. I'll also disclose the address to the winning bidder.

If that doesn't raise some cash then I will rely on the mesa boogie amp./ Blue angel with 4-10's. All in one cab. Nice cover, good tubes, spares, goo condition.
Then I will get the old bassman head and the mesa box from G1 if he doesn't change his mind. I doubt he will.

I have oat meal, pancake mix--two kinds--from the Old Mill. It is all better when it is made there. Old elves run the place. They have been doing it for hundreds of years. They are pretty much immortal although Spikie Guilford got ground into oblivion in 1821 when he fell under the grindstone when they were making wheat flour. Since then, it never happened again. They keep the story alive and even have an annual play reenacting the tragedy on the anniversary of his death.

They've made a lot of money on that place, enough to find ways to blend in with mainstream America. As a matter of fact, DNA testing recently proved that Danny DeVito is a descendant of Spikie Guilford. Many families tried to hide their elf heritage.

But, times are changing and soon you'll see parades and elf pride days, elf power political action groups, the whole bit. I wonder if I'll still like elves when that happens.

It isn't like I ever showed disrespect or laughed at them. If a thirsty elf can't reach a water fountain, I've always been the first to hold him up so he can drink. I always favored elf suffrage, and supported their right to drive--provided they could. Same as people. Elves are polite drivers, observe the common rules of the road and lots of times, they'll pick up hitchhikers, or stop and fix cars left on the side of the road, frequently painting them in happy designs as a finishing touch. .

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Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
Like spring on a summer's day


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