Between the Beaches by D. Collins

Author:D. Collins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2023-02-27T14:12:32+00:00

Chapter 3: The Way the Summer Sun Sets Behind the Waves

When considering where to take things next, I guess I feel inclined to point out that there are easily a million or more places or directions to take this piece from here. But if I don’t pick someplace now while I have the time to write, then for all I know this will progress no further in my lifetime and end up as just another half-finished saved work-in-progress file on some dusty old laptop, somewhere.

So, let’s dive right in someplace uncomfortable, shall we?

Let’s spin the wheel:

‘Love’, ‘Music’, ‘Money’, ‘Drugs/Alcohol’, ‘Government’, ‘Death’, or ‘The Human Experience of Natural Reality (and How It Has Changed Over The Millennia)’…

God’s not on the list because Love was already a category.

On a side note, by the way:

I’m awfully fond of the Tom Waits quote that says:

“There is no devil, only God when He’s drunk.”

For the purposes of that tangent, I’ll give this much to say that the word ‘God’ is like ‘Tao’ or ‘Zen’, there is a reason to have a word for it, but to define it with words is, in itself, simply a means to grow further from its true understanding… at least, initially.

May the concept of ‘it’ never eclipse your view of what ‘it’ really is.

So, let’s go with Music for 400, Alex…

My first guitar came to me on Christmas one year when we lived back in a mid-sized farmhouse about a mile from the 6-generation family farm and about 15-20 minutes from the two nearest towns. It was an electric guitar my folks picked up for about 50 bucks, that came already adorned with an old Misfits skull sticker and a small black and white Nine Inch Nails sticker, both already affixed to it by the previous owner. I was far beyond stoked.

I began taking guitar lessons at the local music shop where my folks had found the guitar and there at the shop, they often held contests whereby a guitar would be up on display near the front of the store with a giant fishbowl below it, where people visiting the shop could put in their raffle tickets or whatnot. We put in one for me, one for my dad, and one for my mom each time they held a contest and sure enough one day, there was this message on our answering machine that was addressed to my mom and declared that she had won the latest guitar, and that she could come in anytime in the next 30 days to pick it up. It was a considerably heavy piece, compared to standard electric guitars – a black Hammer ‘Slammer Series’… I was still a very novice learner at the time, but damn, did me and my buddies rock hard and fairly-mercilessly on that guitar over the next several years.

I remember that by the time we moved to a small town in the Metro East of the St. Louise region, which we’ll call Laterton, I had already found myself

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