Down By The River…

I took a break today, just as I almost always do several times every day, and I wandered down by the river.

For an old river, the Mississippi is doing quite well, even in the industrial stretches of Minneapolis.  From the bluff above, I noticed how fresh and clean the river appeared.  I wanted to get closer for a better look, and tethered to the riverbank behind The Sample Room I found a short dock.

Standing on that dock I could see to a depth of three feet or more into the clear tannin-stained water.  Quite a difference from the 1970s when I was a boy and the river was as clear as a mug of hot chocolate and ran as thick as cream.  Back then we were afraid of the river.  Anything living in it, we thought, had to be especially tough and nasty, kind of like the girls I loved then and maybe still do.  I liked the patched, thigh-hugging jeans those girls wore.  And their bad haircuts.  That’s the surest thing I know.  Skinny, wiry, tough as nails.  A confusion of interests, both good and bad, which for me defined panache.  Whatever they did for me then, a bit of it lingers now, and I found myself standing alone all properly dressed in an old suit staring down into the water wondering about it.  I cannot say for certain, but in the end I think I learned a lot about complexity as a boy that taught me much about beauty.

Are you confused?  That’s the way I have been thinking lately, like a river.  Flowing and roiling in swirls and currents, occasionally wrapping around a snag, sometimes hugging a beach.  It doesn’t always make sense, but doesn’t need to make sense to be beautiful…(oh, no, here we go again)…like the women I love, swirling currents that wrap around snags and hug the channels that guide them and flow, and beautifully flow…

Clear to three feet…

I could do this all night, but I won’t.  I have a movie to watch.

The Amityville Horror, a story that takes place on a river, waited for me in my mailbox when I got home today.  A coincidence?  I wonder.  (Or is it just a reason to be silly?)

I am going to watch Amityville Horror especially close tonight to see if I can discern whether or not it is in fact a real true story or something else.  I remember the film being both somewhat dark and cheesy, kind of like the women I love…

(Hah!  Had you worried, didn’t I?  I don’t need anyone to have a good time.  I keep myself entertained, so easily entertained.  Perhaps it is a sign of simplicity.  But I’ll end the gag.)

It occurs to me now that The Amityville Horror really is a film about property rights.  No, really…property rights.  The family has their home on the river and, god damn it, they are going to keep it.  (Until the Devil forces them to flee and sell, of course.)  But I’m not entirely flippant here.  There might be many plays on key words in this story.  Possession as in possessing the property or being possessed by a spirit.  Condemnation as in losing your property or being condemned to hell.  And bad fashion choices — not really a play on words, but I like to give examples in threes — the freedom to wear whatever the goddamn hell you want to wear in your private property home!

(In our story, the owners of the Amityville house are first-time home buyers and they go all in on this one, making one mistake after the other, right down to James Brolin‘s uncomfortable-to-watch Fruit of the Looms.)

It is also a coincidence — or is it? — that I get this film when only hours earlier I had been thinking of girls in the 70s wearing skinny jeans and frocky shirts.  What do I expect to see in The Amityville Horror?  That’s right…You got it.  We have what’s-her-name — Nicole Kidman…no, no, Margot Kidder — wearing skinny jeans and frocky shirts a la 1975.

A lot to think about.

In the meantime, I’ll share a few photos because I only have a few.  In fact most didn’t turn out at all!  These are all I have today.  Do cameras grow tired?  Mine seems to be damn tired.  In its old age, it has difficulty focusing and it has developed a special affection for my thumb, kind of like the women I love.

I have a film to watch…

Dors bein.

 

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