This must be the place: Rolling on from town to town, been so many places, still don’t know where I’m bound
With my feet dangling out of the back window of the truck, a cool morning breeze rolled through the Tacoma and woke me up. The first thing I saw was the silent pond below the vehicle, a handful of small tents situated around the body of water.
This must be the place: The heart has its seasons, its evenings and songs of its own
Stepping into the lobby of the Days Inn just north of Carlisle, Pennsylvania, last Wednesday evening, I was immediately hit with the faint smell of cigarettes. The sign next to the front desk of the lodging establishment said “No Smoking: $150 Charge.”
This must be the place: By now you took what was to take, tear it apart and start again
Emerging from the beer line along the top of the hill with a Fiddlehead IPA, I heard the slight sound of distortion and feedback echoing loudly from the massive stage down below.
This must be the place: Ode to Cousin Nate, ode to sharing the love of music
Nathan Manuel Arruda, age 42, passed away unexpectedly on Monday, June 28, at his place of residence in Rouses Point, New York.
This must be the place: I awoke and faintly bouncing round the room, the echo of whomever spoke
The air was cool and the sleeping bag warm when I heard the early morning loon from across Buck Pond.
This must be the place: White lace and feathers, they made up his bed, a gold covered mattress, on which he was laid
It was about 15 minutes into meeting Sailor Steve and Texas Jeff when I knew I’d met some of the wildest souls on this damn planet.
This must be the place: Somethin’ keeps him driftin’, miles and miles away, searchin’ for the songs to play
I was already 10 minutes late to my niece’s seventh birthday party some 20 minutes away last Sunday afternoon.
This must be the place: I feel summer creepin’ in and I’m tired of this town again
He walked into the bar, grabbed a seat next to me, and proceeded to order four shots of Jameson Irish whiskey. He was surrounded by two friends to the left and one friend (me) to the right. I figured he was buying us a round, even if I wasn’t in the mood for liquor this past Monday evening.
This must be the place: Racin’ with the wind, and the feelin’ that I’m under
My eyes shot open when the air-conditioning unit kicked on. It took me a couple of moments to realize where I was. Our room was dark and silent. The queen-sized bed, sheets and pillows were extremely comfortable, and damn well better be if you’re paying a pretty penny to stay at the Wyndham Garden in Greensboro.
This must be the place: Ode to Albino Skunk, ode to the spirit of ‘Fes-Taa-Vul’
It was just about 8:30 a.m. when I awoke in my pickup truck last Saturday.