Guest Book

there were these foxes, see, and these grapes, see. and some of the other foxes HAD some grapes, and some of the foxes had none. what was especially bitter was that some of the foxes who had none used to have more grapes than anyone, and they were first among grape-loving foxs then, which gave them mighty prestige, and the grapes were especially fine, and the prestige of being first among foxes was almost as good. other foxes who had none were unable to shoulder the heavy financial burden of acquiring grapes, and all the ancillary benefits thereof, and were unwilling or unable to wish that their friend foxes would enjoy the grapes they were so eagerly anticipating. those aren't the same grapes as we enjoyed! they cried. those grapes can't be tasty, they whined, why back in our day / last year when we could eat the grapes / when the winemakers paid the frieght to bring the grapes to our little town, well, THOSE grapes were the sweetest tastiest grapes EVER, EVER! (and you foxes weren't there to taste them and we were, so you'll have to take our word for it that our subjective experience of the grapes was EVER-SO-BETTER than your own. sorry, bub.) but the sad foxes hadn't tasted the new grapes. the grapes were ALWAYS new, every year a new crop, smetimes more the same, sometimes very different. they'd forgotten how wonderful the grapes taste in the special places where the foxes eat grapes together, and dance and sing and smile and sweat as they enjoy the grapes, all juice running down their faces and laughing and dancing about with glee. they'd forgotten that the special place wasn't where THEY'D been, but was wherever many, many more than two come together with like minds and hearts, and that the special place comes into being in the now, and the future, as it had done for them in the past, as long as the winemakers cutiivated their vines. as time had passed, and tastes changed, there was less need for as many vines, or grapes, and the winemakers had rediscovered the joy of just having a good time growing the grapes, and the thrill and satisfaction of being in the Big Special Places where the ever-changing fruits of their labors were appreciated by those foxes among them who loved the old grapes, but weren't offended or threatened or frightened by the different grapes. those different grapes? those same grapes? some thought the name of grape contained within it all aspects of the grape itself, and judged accordingly, thinking they could imagine the tactile, near-erotic experience of a juice they'd never tasted just by conjuring the name of the variety of grape! some ate simulacra of the grape, which tasted good enough, and which their friend foxes labored to provide, but which, however tasty, never had the wallop or the sex of the real thing. but most were unwilling or unable to taste the grapes, and continued to complain to others that the grapes were sour, and to insist that those who enjoyed the taste were simply deluding themselves. lo, and they undertook unto themselves the mighty task of convincing the multitude that their enjoyment and anticipation of the grape to come was as of the false idolatry of the grape, and vowed to come to the discussion place daily to preach the sermon called "our taste is all in your mouth - wait, that's not it, i'm not saying the grapes aren't any good, can you show me where i said that all i'm saying is the real winemakers of days long gone by never even considered that grapes would taste like that but these grapes are great but if you think these grapes are good, well, you don't know anything these aren't grapes at all they're prunes or raysens or whatever them thangs are no wait dang ol' grapes doin' stuff why that's not grape behavior at all what the that's the same ol' grapes and they're just producing grapes for money and thoe different garpes well they should be better why i'm tellin' ya if a frog had no wait that cuts against what i'm saying what AM i saying hey;'re notdoing it the way i think they should and if i was there i;'d sure where AM I anyway ---" meanwhile, the foxes who were all going to the big grape festival this weekend continued their preparations, scurrying about joyously, wishing all the foxes could be there - even the ones barking and yipping every day that the grapes were sour, SOUR i say! the happy foxes knew that however sweet the grapes to come - the sweetest ever, or just plain ol' wonderfully sweet - that what lay ahead was a journey to the great Cathedral of the Grape, where they'd be surrounded by other happy foxes. foxes strolling on broadway in the sunny afternoon, foxes in their rooms happily seeing one another for the first time since way back when, foxes at the pre-tastings, foxes at the post-tasting parties, sampling varieties of the wonderful grapes well into he early morning hours. the happy foxes wished the sad foxes could stuff a sock in it for just a few weeks, and that if those sad foxes were truly their friend foxes, they'd be able to be grown-up foxes & restrain themselves, and maybe even focus on the good times their friend foxes were about to have, and wish them well, and at least PRETEND to hope for the best for their friend foxes, like real freinds do, but they realized that some foxes pain entitles them to bleed discontent over the happiness of others, and feel righteous in so doing. shine on, happy foxes, and whine on, sad foxes. consider me an apostate, you joyless fundamentalists. as for my foxy self, when my friend foxes are happy, even if i'm not there to participate, knowing that those unseen friends are joyous adds to the sum total of happiness in the world, and thereby, increases my own. even if they're enjoying the taste something i might not like myself. everyone have a great day - it's too wonderful an opportunity to be lucky enough just to be alive on a day like today not to jump out into the day, so here i go! can't wait to read tonight's setlist, and please, don't be angry at me, be grateful for my giving some of y'all an activity to fill the rest of your day. (NP: IASW, the Panthalassa version...and in all fairness, there's not a chance i'll be listening to D & C or MD before or after the Beacon, except on a tape OF a Beacon show, which, i'm betting, will sound pretty dang cool) (PS: i sat on this for an hour to see which sad foxes would start yipping, and well, golly...) (PPS: in between send and sent BikeNJ420 said everything i was trying to say in one paragraph. i wonder if there's mdication that would fix my head? hey, Bike420, send me a PM, i'l buy ya a beer i you're at a show i'm going to! and what color was the dog?)