Arrant Knaves, All

From 25 Nov 03

Before I start: thoughts to Elvin Jones now in the ultimate band.
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25Nov03

By the time Antony ceased talking like his Yankee headmaster and resumed saying 'Ya'll," the afternoon summer showers had rendered Catawba sufficiently steamy as the two brothers and Antony veered they bikes into Sherwood Forest, a spanking-new neighborhood, one later called a "subdivision." Speeding down Robin Hood Way, past the treeless lots carved out of the once prosperous Mosier's Farm, they raced in stand-up pedal stance. As they flew by house after house, they thought of Baxter Mosier, the 15th generation of Mosier born to the hand-honed wood farm house, the only child of the tobacco-drippled chin of Julian Moiser and the disappointed face of Maggie Mosier. Although Baxter had learned the land well and had could recite the ancestral secrets of planting, breeding, harvesting, and slaughtering, dirt under his fingernails appalled him as if he were allergic to the earth. Instead, he preferred to plow and feed fertile imaginations; he knew their viseral desires and wanton needs. (Here I stopped for some unknown reason, probably to piss.)

posted by Earl of the Knaves @ 10:16 PM