Chamblee54

PG made it back from the Fall Gathering, and knew, as Dorothy had before him, There is no place like home. The Gathering was a delight…fabulous food, visual delights, mountain air…but returning to indoor plumbing was equally festive. The yellow jackets swarming on the porch, at lunch, will not be missed. How anyone could admire such a vile animal tough to understand.
PG did learn a thing or two this week. Setting your camera to a lower resolution will get you more pictures, but they will not be nearly as good. While this will provide plenty of editing fodder, sometimes you catch a good image, and wish for quality.
There is a formula for writing. It is ass plus chair. A lady told PG that, about having the patience to move beyond blog posts into longer work. PG got to talk to her because he asked permission before he took her picture.
When you walk in on a acting workshop, you are in danger of being cussed out. The fact that you did not know the playback theater was in progress does not matter. You will go the rest of the week wondering what it was you walked in on. When you are a veteran of Faerie Gatherings, you learn to take these things in stride.
When you leave a tent open with food inside, a goat might go inside and look for a snack. If you have your camera ready, it can be a photo opportunity. The goats did appreciate the weeds that PG fed them. There was a stone staircase that had fallen into disrepair, and PG spent Friday pulling weeds off the stones. The goats were happy. Short Mountain…where men are men, and the goats are happy.
Friday night, there was an Indian dinner prepared by Frenchmen. They took the kitchen and turned it into a Belle Epoque nightclub, and took a long time talking it up at the dinner circle. Finally you get inside,walk past the can can dancers, and get your meal. The year of the Diamond Dog. PG thought it all a bit much, so he went to the fire outside, and talked to a young man. After a while, PG went back to the kitchen, and joined the chorus dancing to “Save all your love for me”. Life is good.
Late Saturday afternoon, PG was bored before dinner, until he saw a drum without a fresh handprint. Drumming is tough to do wrong, and takes almost no practice. The energy was soon there, through another fabulous meal, more drumming, and a techno dance. At one point a burst of synthetic basstones formed a lightening bolt that ignited the lumbar region. At that moment, PG was no longer in control.