Now, being the writer-man as the night pulses and friends light off fireworks into the last great summer day that you can remember. “And Henry, you tubed today” she said , and yeah I did tube, I’m a tuber.
Now you’re you, a writer tuba diver drinker writer man, and you know why, because you got back to your own philosophy, not theirs, yours. Once again you’re letting the world move you, and it’s just random particle collisions anyway that somehow pointed you to a place that you knew you were going to end up at almost two years ago, and you can say how strange life is, and it is funny, but it’s also pretty dang remarkable. Even the supposed wrong decisions bring you to the most human and memorable of places.
Now go, go and enjoy the rest of this night. Set down your fingered letter tappers. Don’t worry, you remember it all anyway, you took notes all day, and you have snap shots and photographs to pick up where you left off yesterday, and that Apostolo gave you this shirt, and after you thought the world had given up on you, that you were done, that writing was something that you were never supposed to do, but you are the writer, you are the best friend. You will never be the mover, this is not your way, but yeah, you are the people smiler, the tuber chipmunk saving man, and you talk to everyone not because you are a writer, but because you see goodness in them, the goodness in all people, the goodness you think has been drained from yourself. You got back on track, you never failed, you just declined into another sunset. what you thought was darkness was just the heart, your heart that felt so warm as the sky lit up with the sparking fireworks that friends, your friends, are lighting off after you inspired them, not to do anything in particular, not to become writers, but you inspired them to believe in the writer. Get back to the days and the sounds and this, this, get back to this that is now. Get back to the last night at bear lake. Write about them tomorrow. You have waited for them, and they will never wait for you. Remember what you often forget, that the world moves you, and it aint even close to stoppin’ this movin’ for someone who was born with this type of joy that you were born with.
Remember the blood moon, the harvest moon painted with earth red and rounded with the shape of your life, and remember how it was the best moon that you ever had seen, and this was just last night? Don’t worry, you won’t forget, you remember everything, and you know this, so boy, go, go now and just be you, the words will still be here in the morning.