"But ah'm not afraid of dyin'. Cause I know that when I get to heaven there are gonna be these wonderful trees, and ah'm gonna climb them. But you know what? Instead of leaves and flowers, those trees are gonna have fried eggs, and delicious Virginia ham, and big heaping bowls of biscuits and sausage gravy. And one day, Sammy, you're gonna meet me there, and we're gonna climb those breakfast trees together, and it's gonna be delicious and we're gonna be happy until the end of time."


You Wicked Little Town

As I bid adieu to a few Craft Center friends who were kind enough to let me put them on the guest list for the preview of Hedwig and the Angry Inch last night, one who I would not see again this year imparted a few words of wisdom, "I'm sure we'll see each other again. The world is small, and the glass world is even smaller."
I've been in and out of the Knoxville area all my life, and since I've been back in Knoxville this time around I have had the opportunity to refelct on just how small my world can be at times. I've been running into people from my distant and recent past with increasing regularity, and I get the feeling that won't slow down once our show opens tonight. When I was younger, this would have been a major complaint, a railing against this crippling vortex of insularity. I used to be of the mind that staying here was an admission of mediocrity, as good as giving up.
Now, however, in my advanced age I find it comforting and inspiring that the many of the same personalities I looked up to back in the proverbial day are still there, still fighting to make Knoxville the town we all know it can be. And more and more it looks as though they are succeeding. The Knoxville of my youth was not a place where on any given Wednesday night I had to choose between Wendel Werner at a swanky tapas place and Sara Schwabe at a swanky downtown bar with an impressive wine list and a damn fine mojito. When I look at the people who have been here all along I can't help but feel like a quitter for believing I would ever find what I was looking for anywhere without putting a hand or four into making it happen. That's one of those things they don't teach you in school.
As long as I can remember I've wanted out of here, and even as I'm putting into action both short and long-term plans to leave for the umpteenth time, I'm left wondering if that is really the answer. At what point do you take responsiblity? This town has never felt as much like home as it has in these latter days.
I have no creative finish for this one, so I'll just link to the guy who got me on this fucking sentimental tangent.
creative title of blog

Also, if there's any hope for you you'll buy things from Meagan.