"Baby, baby, you are out of time..." I can hear Mick Jagger singing that line...
My last three summer days were spent in a theater space. Running sound, performing, watching other performers. It was a pretty amazing display of human creativity in all it's forms: music, poetry, theater, comedy. The human thing. Lots of humans creating. They called it Yippiefest 2018.
You should have been there. There is a really unique thrill about being in a room with other human beings focused on creative exploration. A visceral kick. Sharing the same space, the same air. The physicality of the human. You can't get it on a screen: a tv, a laptop, a phone.
I was reminded that I am a man "out of time." I think it was the iPod (an ancient device), or the Walkman (pre-historic), the collection of CD's (obsolete), I armed myself with, plus, also, of course, the cells of my body (worn, ragged, beat, beatific?). These hands, this head, this body. How many turns around the sun for me? Too many to count.
I was overwhelmed by the energy of the room. The flow of the days and nights. The energy. Energy really is Eternal Delight (hat tip: Wm. Blake). I conjured up a bit of my own energy too. I was tired, over-extended, but when I entered that theater space I was flooded with energy. Renewed. A festival of the Human Thing.