The One-Lane Bridge (in italics!)

Eddie: I can play "Come As You Are" on my acoustic guitar... but it sounds stupid because I'm trying to play the base line.
Mike: A belated HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Ashlee. AOBTW, the video is mega jerky when I view it. The screen updates only once every 15 seconds, the WOO WOO audio is clear as a bell though!

To address the question: "So Mungo, What did you post before on the POS apple?"
I answer something like this --
I went back out to the one lane bridge in the country that night, it was 12midnight. (Directions: depart Osage on Hwy 9, take exit for the first town, drive through to the other end of that town to the only stop sign, turn right on T-64, drive 15 or 20 minutes until you see the carpet sign in the cow field and turn left on B-33, cross the Little Cedar River and turn right on the next gravel road, pull off onto the grass before the bridge, and read on to find out what happened there) I walked out to the bridge (crossing the Little Cedar River again) and took some deep breaths. Memories flooded in through each breath I inhaled. It was a remembrance vacuum night. The moon and his little dotty friends were the only things up in the sky. They had things to remember of their own. I smoked. Then I went to my car, got my camera, attached it to my new tripod, loaded a 400 ISO roll of Kodak color film inside, and took 24 timed-exposured pictures of the bridge. When that excitement was overdonewiththrough, I put my camera and tripod in the back seat, turned everything off, and walked back to the center of the bridge. I climbed up on one of the rails, climbed down below the bridge and sat over the river on an i-beam. I peed. I smoked. I remembered so many things about Jill. Until that night I had forgotten about THE ROPE. (the rope: Jill's brother Ryan Alexander Westergard [raw] had afixed a 5 lb hook to the end of a yellow nylon tow rope. We would fasten the hook to the edge of the bridge, throw the rope over, and climb down the frozen river below and do things down there. We camped in the snow once, we even drove stakes into the ice! When we were done on the river, we would climb the rope and walk back to her house). Then I climbed the dusty beams to the lane of the bridge, and decided to go higher. I climbed to the top of the arch over head. I laid down on my back and starred unblinkingly at the stars, and the waning moon said to me, "It is another evening in God's world." I remembered Jill Alexandria Westergard [jaw] and what she meant to me. I smoked. I talked to her. I said, "Revolutions do not happen on buffet tables, they happen in the reverse undertow, they happen on one-lane bridges." Then I sat up. Then, as that wild hair started to tickle me, I stood to my feet. Standing there on top of the bridge arcs, looking up and down from the Little Cedar River 60 feet down and up to Great Luna 230,600 miles above me, I began crying. Like a baby. It was the first time I cried for her. I could really feel her there, and she seemed to say, "Erik, you dumbass, before you loose your balance staring at the moon with watery eyes, maybe you should sit down... that water isn't deep enough to break your fall." So I sat down... for a very long time. I smoked several more cigarettes and wrote A POEM. (a poem: You walk in slow motion And burned by the fire When your path of devotion Is a path of desire. Slow motion resonation mumble Slow motion destination trouble.) After all that, I carefully climbed off the bridge, returned to my car, and drove to Charles City, Iowa (8 miles away). I rolled into the dead dead town and found the only place open... a filling station. I told elaborate lies to the lady behind the counter and drove back to Osage taking the long way. I jumped on the computer at 4:30 a.m., tried to Blog about the night, and lost it all. Now you know.

And lastly, Mel isn't going to come over tonight. This is a long story. It's not all as nice as it seems. This is a problem, and his name is Jason. Jason is not an ass and there is nothing wrong with him... except that he's in love with Mel, and they work together at the same desk. They have some things to discuss. Mel and I are throwing a wine/lasagna/cheese/cracker party at her house on Friday. Only Shawndra, my friends Jenn and Tim, Mel and I will be there. It will be a good time.

On Saturday I will be at St. Andrew's Bay to man an aid station for the Florida Triatholon. Then, that night, I'll be going to our squadron's Combat Dining In. I'm guaranteed to be one tired mofrappe that night, but I think I'm going to ask Mel to go to a movie with me anyway.

Sunday I will sleep all fwigging day.

Peace and Love,
Tarzgo (http://www.homestarrunner.com/fhqwhgads.html)

Song of the day: 90 Day Men - "Methodist"