Went to Joplin this morning. Three hour drive from the Plains to the Ozark Plateau. Sun in my face. Ditch-daisies everywhere, bouncing golden pinwheels. Another yellow flower, towers of clustered upturned cups. Fluffy purplish-white blossoms bending on stalks. Shimmering cottonwood and a tall grass like cattails. I'd like to see this place before the settlers and farms. The sea of grass, waterless currents, channels of wind. I'd even like to see the farms, before these fucking housing developments started creeping in looking like nothing more from a distance than enormous garbage dumps waiting to be buried. Listening to the bluesy new Desert Sessions. PJ Harvey is on at least four tracks. She makes a sound sometimes I'm not too fond of, like "Pat" from Saturday Night Live. But I love PJ. "There Will Never be a Better Time", close your eyes, stand on that cliff. I want to change everything. Not everything. I'll keep the long-abandoned shacks with no windows and wasps building nests behind the screen door. Cows huddling together in the shade of a peeling billboard. Weathered barns. Grain silos. Pale green orbs of crabapples looming in the windbreak. Limestone edgeing the highway like unexcavated ruins.
I used to think there were too many trucks in SW Missouri. Now I'm seeing a nasty infestation of the Really Big Truck. Why? These things make wide turns, crowding into my lane. Their headlights are so high that they blind any normal car in front of them. If the 1970's parking space doesn't make a comeback I'm going to start keying some bumpers. Very few people anymore are actually baleing hay, hauling livestock, pulling stumps... And maybe that's it--a loss of Heritage. These "country" boys (and girls) are now living in duplexes and nice neighbourhoods, surrounded by strip malls and chain restaurants. Pharmacists, store managers, business students, it was their grandparents who were the real thing, but there's still this image to live up to. An expendable income and clever marketing helps them overcompensate for this castration of hayseed culture. Or maybe I'm just talking out of my ass.
What is the first sliver of moon after a New Moon called? It was low on the horizon tonight, lost behind trees on my way home. Lots of stars. I need to learn more constellations. Happy Rosh Hashanah. Apples and honey. Goodnight.