Truckstop, Fireworks, Stories, Night (take 2)
A reading from the truck.
*READ THIS ONE*
*Ha! Those of you who already watched the literal director’s cut of the second video, apologies. Oy!*
Hello, friends.
This week there’s nothing to read—I’m reading to you.
Some of you were here for the first two installments of the Virginia story—“The Feral Child” and “The Property Line”—but since many of you have joined the Going Solo journey more recently, I decided a little bit of story time might do us good, and get everybody caught up on the tale before I post the third and final installment next week.
Those of you who prefer the quiet of words on the screen/page, please feel free to check out those essays by clicking on their titles. Those of you who like to listen while you drive, ride, hike, run, or ramble in any way, this reading, shot from the shotgun seat of the Big Silver Truck by actor, director, and playwright Véro Matheny, my friend and colleague, is for you.
By way of introduction, there’s this:
and by way of proper introduction, Véro asked me a question while I was wandering around, and we got this:
And that’s why I’m telling this story now. I’ll see you back here for the final installment—both text and audio/video versions—of this story next week.
Peace, friends. Like, really. Peace.
I enjoyed reading both of these installments. I enjoyed your reading of them even more. I’m sitting by a fire in a campground in SE Michigan with just thready enough of a signal to get through them ok. Aside from that I’m bathing in the quiet—from the world and my now slumbering feral children. They’ve been feral ALL day. Tired. Happy. Still worried and flummoxed with the world and the nation.
Creeping on the earth we are- good to meet you