entry from Catherine's journal, written on July 5, 2010

2010-07-05 21:14:00

blues and blacks
Unsigned letter in unmistakable handwriting, addressed in one side of the country and postmarked from the other, further complicates life. Welcome back to Atlanta, my friend.

After three years, there are certain parts of the city where I can go and always see at least one good friend. I spent all Saturday afternoon insulating a rocket stove at the new ArkFab location with a few hundred pounds of mud, along with a slew of anarchists, communists, farmers, and activists. We listened to a mix cd of old prison songs and field hollers recorded by Alan Lomax while we worked.

On Sunday, Liam and I borrowed Iuval's new dilapidated vehicle (half of which is filled with compost) and drove to two Walmarts, looking for gunpowder and settling for a $30 pack of fireworks purchased from a vendor in the parking lot. We sat outside a bar in Cabbagetown with a group of friends and talked to everyone any of us knew who happened to walk by, then entertained a crowd by setting off fireworks in the Eyedrum parking lot before Lightning Bolt played. Instead of very easily sneaking into the show for free like 1/4 of the crowd probably did, I spent the late evening in the loft where my friends live, but where they were not present, but where I brought other friends, listed ideas about what makes a good public space, and stuck the list to half a Walmart apple pie, with love.

Today I drank coffee with Liam outside and drew Agit-prop in his notebook, while he read poetry out loud. He re-reads sections when he doesn't think he's gotten the timing right. He and I wear mostly black. People watch us. I should be more wonderful to him, but I'm not. I wish I was, but I'm not. We climbed trees at the local women's college. He asked me about things I hadn't thought about since I left Mary Baldwin and I couldn't answer. He must think that means more than I think it means. I feel very disconnected from that part of my life.

I think I should leave this city soon, but I feel connected to  it. I don't think I wouldn't be able to build another meaningful community of friends in another city, but I do think I'd miss these ones for a long time. You can never go home, but you can build another one, love it for a while, then leave it, long for it, learn you can never go home once again, build another one, keep going onward and upward, and long and long and long forever.

c@