Fork in the Road

Yesterday afternoon Plotnik spoke for a long time with his ex-partner Blue. They spoke about the musical the two had written twenty years ago in Stiletto City, and the directions their lives had taken them, Blue to Aspen and Plot to Saint Plotniko. Yesterday was the birthday of Blue's stepson Jasper, who died so very tragically two years ago. Blue talks a lot about Buddhism and redemption these days. As they always do, Plot and Blue talked about the redeeming virtues of music.

Last night Plot and Duck watched some of the Bob Dylan tapes with which PBS has been punctuating its latest, endless pledge drive. Hearing Dylan sing "The Chimes of Freedom," every line of which Plotnik had once memorized and cherished, took Plottie back to the '60s, a place he doesn't really like to go much. Most of the time he finds people who wax poetic about the '60s to be as interesting as sawdust.

So last night, Plot had this dream: he is walking with his baby (don't know which) in his arms. They are in the old neighborhood in Stiletto, but out on Glendale Boulevard, where the road forks in two directions. Although it is the middle of the night, the sun is out. Plotnik's baby wants food, and Plot notices a 7-11 which has just opened up right at the fork in the road. Inexplicably, the baby can talk: he (she) says 'Let's go the 7-11 for dessert.' But as Plot walks towards the 7-11, a rock and roll band begins to play from an apartment house nearby. Plot can see them playing in a kind of bombed-out storefront -- and they are very good. They have long hair. The music is wonderful.

But it's the middle of the night (though the sun is shining) and people must be trying to sleep. So Plot finds himself arguing with the lead singer to shut up, to stop playing, to let the people in the other apartments try and get some sleep. Yet -- his heart is not in the argument, because he is torn by how spectacular the music is, and how it is lifting him.

Baby needs dessert. Plot needs music. Fork in the road.