2004-09-12
Making Waves
Jen and Marshall pick me up because I had some trouble with the exact location of the rally (despite John�s quick directions), and so we get inside the car and immediately everyone lights a cigarette.
Since we want to make this easy, we also go and pick up Chris, Jen�s new boyfriend (it seems as if everyone has an SUV these days). However, we are slightly delayed, seeing as how Chris is talking to this girl who is telling him about a dream she had in which he was dead.
�Tell him to hurry up, Jen...� says Marshall
�I�ve an idea,� I speak up
�Shoot,� he says
�Stick your head out the window and tell him that you had a dream about him...perhaps he�ll be interested.�
So Marshall sticks his head out the window while his cigarette is hanging from his mouth-- �Hey Chris! I had a dream about you, man! I dreamt that you were dead but then you weren�t...so get in the fucking car!�
And after Chris gets in the car, we make our way to rally, bashing Bush on the way.
Once getting there, we reach a dirt road, and already there are people unloading their instruments out of their cars and I see this kid with a Jim Morrison t-shirt, looking down and carrying his black guitar case. I was most attracted to the drummer of David�s Bar Mitzvah, with dark hair spiked down, sexy lip-piercing, and what attracted me the most was his attire: dark-denim jeans with tight, short-sleeved black button-down shirt and light-pink tie. Yes, he was definitely fuckable.
Once getting out of the car, the first thing we have to do is register to vote, which is simple enough. While Jen, Marshall, and Chris register, I�m practically bathing myself with bug spray before actually heading out into the field. As we�re walking, no other than the host himself, Ben, comes walking up with John...who is barefoot.
�Hey guys, if you want to smoke go by the lake; but if you want to smoke pot, you have to go...somewhere else,� says John, with hands in pockets.
�Libet,� interrupts Ben, �Do you now trust my event-coordinating abilities?� he asks
�With my life,� I say laughing.
Suddenly, I see that there are different organizations here, one of them being T.H.C. or, Tampa Hemp Council.
�Excuse me,� I say, and I rush over to their table. I get pamphlets of all sorts, because for some time now, I�ve been more and more interested in Hemp. Actually, using Hemp to its full potential is what truly interests me. Thus, I bought a t-shirt with the letters T.H.C., standing for Tampa Hemp Council, and some pot leaf in the center.
An hour into the entire thing, I finally get to hear John�s band play. As he�s warming up, he plays this brilliant guitar solo, almost effortlessly--his fingers simply dancing about the strings, with his disheveled blonde hair covering his face.
�John kicks ass...� says Ben.
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The political speakers take turns speaking, and in between all of that, the bands play. Of course, Ben went up first, humorously pulling out a list to read to the audience entitled Ten reasons why you should hate the president.
Fiery and disarming is how I would describe last night; under the humid night sky we were probably heard quite some distance away...finally causing a stir in this overly-conservative city.
My entire chapter attended, and we also sat around to discuss some business of our own. Most importantly, we�ve changed our name from Politik to Politiko at Ben�s suggestion... �It rolls off the tongue,� he said.
The other members quickly agreed and in the course of ten minutes, our name suddenly changed.
During the very late hours, I see that Jen and Marshall are keen on staying so I ask Pierce to give me a ride. All night we had been discussing music and literature, but particularly music.
�Listen,� he begins, �There�s a Rachmaninoff festival in January...would you like to come with me?�
�Sure,� I respond.
Walking back to his car through the dark, dusty road, he begins talking about the stars in the sky. I then recite my favorite Thoreau quote, and he tells me that he loves it. Everything appeared so gray in that moment--dark, yet consoling.
But this moment also saddens me somehow, and I feel compelled to go home that night and just work on stuff for Politiko, which is my latest obsession/creation.