Finding the Check Line

connecting and reconnecting in uncertain water

“I’m sitting in the kitchen, and Seamus is outside…” - Pink Floyd “Seamus”

I’m sitting here at my desk in the basement drinking coffee, listening to a cassette of Pink Floyd’s album MEDDLE. My dogs are in the house; so too, is the ungrateful but recent mouser, Wasabi the Cat. MEDDLE was released in 1971 and is considered a turning point in the development of their sound, combining prog rock with their early psychedelic roots. The cassette itself is a Capitol Records reissue, probably from the late 1980’s. I picked up a cheap (around $20) portable cassette / radio. Something I can carry if I’m on foot. It’s currently plugged into my downstairs speakers with an aux cable. The speaker on the player itself is actually pretty decent for what it is, but I felt like experiencing a more full-bodied sound. The last track on Side A is “Seamus” a bluesy tune that rarely gets airplay. The B Side, “Echoes” is generally (and rightfully so) considered the achievement of the album. But I’m always a sucker for a happy little blues tune about death.

End of the first pipe of the day. Today’s blend is a mixture of Captain Black Original and Half & Half. I’m running low on my fallback blends; but luckily because their root tobaccos are essentially the same ( Kentucky Burley and a Virginia Sweet) they mix together fairly well. Recent life changes have forced me to do some blending and looping back in time.

And here’s where I admit the obvious: I am an analog media junkie. A TANGIBLE media junkie. The only format we don’t store in our house … which is, at this point, is a private library we live in … is VHS or Beta, and if I can latch onto any of that I will. The drive towards content on the internet rather than communication or the transmission of ideas drives me back to things I can touch with my hands and catalog in my mind. The two processes are linked, though I’m not going to spend space expanding on that now. Maybe later. The down side of this connection is that I sometimes wander through our collective books looking for one I haven’t owned in years.

“And you’ll have to find your own way home, boys..” -Tom Waits, “The Fall of Troy”

My next listen is the movie soundtrack for DEAD MAN WALKING (1995), a Columbia released compilation that came out the same time as the movie, which was an adaptation of the non-fiction book (1993) of the same name.

Lately I’ve been reaching out and am happy to find there are good spirits reaching back. Looping back around to open mics and to the community of writers and artists Last night I had the distinct pleasure to participate in a reading at House of Jane in Madison, Indiana. Madison is a lovely little town along the river that there is no direct interstate route access to. Being as I avoid the toll on the I-65 bridge as much as possible, my way there took me up IN 421, a windy two lane that intersects at Bedford with US 42, a route I know and love. I want to express my gratitude to Patty Cooper Wells and Jane at House of Jane for extending such a kind welcome and amazing space to share the stage with folks like Steven Grant Smith and Susan Mason Scott. I’ve been humbled by the reception and care of fellow poets, some of whom I’ve known for years and some who I have had the honor of meeting recently. It’s another reminder that there is goodness and community in the world, as dark and muddled a place as it feels; it’s entirely possible, though, that we need the ugliness and darkness to see the true beauty and light that exists and to remind ourselves not to take those things for granted.

Writing has always been a kind of check line for me. A check line, according to Lehman, is “a line specifically used to slow down or stop a vessel or tow when going into a navigation lock or landing at a dock.”¹ The writing community has also served this function as well, over the years. First at Morehead State when I was fighting through to finish my Bachelor’s Degree; later again at Morehead State when I went back to get my Masters, mostly, I acknowledge, to have an excuse to write. Much later, the poets and writers I met in the MFA program at Antioch-Los Angeles helped me creatively, as well as offering life and limb support. I love them all and miss them all and wish I saw them all more often than I do.

The community of writers and artists in Cincinnati when I lived there and now here in Louisville have always been welcoming and supportive, and I’m grateful that I can still count myself among them.

“Swing Low and Carry me Home” - Steve Earle, “Ellis Unit One”

Side B of DEAD MAN WALKING drags a bit; I’m remembering the B side was one I used to listen to a lot, especially Steve Earle and Patti Smith, who contributed “Walking Blind” to the compilation.

“By the world beguiled,” - Patti Smith, “Walking Blind”

I suppose that’s what life feels like right now; I have a direction and a focus, but I can’t really see the end point. When I traveled around with my rucksack, there were moments like that. In this situation, the journey is as much a spiritual reckoning and reawakening as it is a strategy to create something sustainable for myself, my wife, to do my part to support and sustain this life we’re building. This life we’re building is an ongoing art project that only ends when we both do, and I am looking forward to many years of that. I’m grateful to the teachers and friends I’m meeting, as well as to the teachers and friends I’ve known over the years. And while I know there will be periods of fog and bad weather, I know where the check line is.

Thought I’d prove I have more than one flannel.

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Note: Unless otherwise cited, all thoughts thunk, notions noted, and opinions pinioned are the author’s and beholden to no one.

1. Lehman, Charles F. A Riverman’s Lexicon. © 2009, Charles F. Lehman.