I’ve been writing from daily writing prompts, just because, and today’s has to do with community. I am a little sad & lonely, for circumstances I don’t want to go into, but I’ll give this a whirl.
I guess a community is who you talk to most often, so my community consists of a rag-tag bunch of poker players who will occasionally ask about me if they don’t see me for awhile. They’re the people who I would let borrow some yard tools, or my truck for moving. They often make me laugh, but sometimes make me crazy, as there is a lot of drama in the small town poker world. Most of it stems from poverty and too much testosterone without a lot of wisdom. Everyone should seek wisdom.
My real community is the virtual group of friends that I love who live states away and I talk to every blue moon. I’d like to gather them together in an ArcoSanti village. We’d have gardens with heirloom tomatoes and kids playing in the dirt. We’d listen to Bad Larry play guitar and write songs together. We’d all be aspiring to do something meaningful with our lives while at the same time doing things to pay for ourselves. I really just want my friends around me. Maybe I should go back to grad school at fifty. There would be intellectual conversation about modern poets and fiction writers and physicists. We’d watch TED talks and have speakers come to our town to continue our life long educations. My children would take piano lessons and have close kind friends who they could test out their fantastic ideas on. We wouldn’t have to worry about violence or guns or health insurance premiums. There would be art everywhere and green grass and rose bushes. Really, the beach wouldn’t be far, or at least the mountains, and people would put tire swings out in the public land. Doctors would make house calls. I wouldn’t dislike anyone at all, because everyone would be trying to make a better life and have a lot of empathy and compassion for each other. And when there was friction, we’d have a pow wow and no one would be selfish or stupid. And we’d play poker at least once a week.
Even further, everyone I’ve ever wanted to meet would drop in with banana bread: great writers, explorers, and thinkers. Einstein, Amelia Earhart, Gandhi, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, Dostoevsky, Jack London, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Keats, Yeats, Dali, Frieda Kalo, Emerson, Thoreau, Neruda, Lorca, Orwell, Huxley, Dickens, Mark Twain, Rimbaud, Pound, Eliot, Williams, Plath, Hendrix, John Lennon, George & Paul, Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, Shakespeare, Lermontov, Ahkmatova, Chekov, Jane Goodall, Steinbeck, Terry Tempest Williams, Abbey, the Apostles, Kennedy, Plato, Aristotle, Whitman, Bradbury, Leonard Nimoy, Harlan Ellison, Johnny Rotten, Shane MacGowan, DaVinci, Van Gogh, Edison, Tesla, Lincoln, Sun Tzu, Chopin, Renoir, Pasteur, Curie, Frost, Ansel Adams, John Belushi, Oscar Wilde, Quentin Tarantino, the Coen Brothers, Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Montgomery Cliff, Fellini, Picasso, Dylan Thomas, Bob Dylan, Elvis and a dozen others, and Ringo Starr to moderate it all. 😉 There would be a lot of dinner parties.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Idyllic.”