The Jablonsky Variations on the Warrior Bard

I’ve had vivid recollections lately, bordering on physically projecting myself into different places. Dunn Bros., Grounds for Thought, Baja 600, Too Talls Two, Longview Lake, Kelley’s Island…

Yeah, the Realm of Possibility now includes equal parts Kansas City, MO and equal parts… Bowling Green, OH. Allow me to explain.

A few weeks ago, I was on the phone with Sarah Farmer-Ashcraft and she was brainstorming about a possible BG reunion this summer. It’ll probably never happen, of course, but the fact that it’s possible is significant in itself. Seed: planted.

Obviously, I am still intent on getting a relatively long-term job in Kansas City, where I can finally let my guard down and do my thing. But I realized that, as of next weekend, I don’t have any income lined up until August. No responsibilities to tend to here, either.

So I developed the albeit hare-brained scheme of taking on a summer gig in BG, where I can crash (free rent is a magnificent thing) with Josh Kalichman in his capacious loft apartment. Quick disclaimer: I am NOT suddenly and capriciously declaring a new, fanciful intention to move back to BG. Rather, I am just saying that I am entertaining the possibility of spending a couple of months there, if I can, since I have a few assets in the region. Besides, I am not “tied down” to anything anyway.

After all, my “not being tied down” is a source of envy for several of my friends, which continues to baffle me. I think some people have an overly-Romanticized impression of my life. Or perhaps the grass really is always greener. All I know is that if things really were as simple as those tied down make them out to be, I would have spent six months in Sydney, Australia immediately after grad school, followed by another six months in Kyoto, Japan, until finally “settling down” in Kansas City, USA in August, 2007, where I would still be today. Then, a year after working, I would have taken my hard-earned, American Annual Vacation Week in August 2008 and visited the Lowlands of Scotland. Then, here in the summer of ’09, I’d be gearing up for my next vacation in Alaska. Didn’t turn out that way. Not being tied down is nice in concept, don’t get me wrong, but usually it doesn’t amount to much. So please, find someone else to envy.

Where was I? Oh yeah.

Perhaps another factor in this BG whimsy is that I am rereading the Star Wars: New Jedi Order series, which essentially defined my second year in BG (it took me exactly twelve months to read all nineteen books). It’s my favorite series for so many reasons. Partly, it paralleled my sense of epic struggle with truest friends and formidable foes, but also because a certain someone in the series mirrored my own philosophical growth at the time (no spoilers!).

So yeah, nostalgia is rampant. I’m sorry if that seems to be a driving force on my blog for the past couple years. But it’s not the catalyst here, just a contributor. Just something reminding me that I’m not entirely dead inside yet.

Regardless of what you or I may think about BG, it would at the very least be conducive to composing. I could get some stuff done, but there would be a serious risk of running into some faculty members to whom I am nowhere near prepared to be revealed. Take from that what you will.

In truth, it would be a relatively boring summer if I were to be in Ohio, but relaxing enough to get that family buffer space back. And Jordan Sommers will be in the vicinity this summer, as well as Noah Taylor. So my weekends would theoretically compensate for the absence of the Captain and the Amazing Brando. And it couldn’t possibly hurt my self-esteem any.

Not that it matters, for this is still just a hare-brained idea. But it’s just as possible as any other scenario.

”Your focus determines your reality.”
--Qui-Gon Jinn

So everything after Memorial Day is a dizzying spiral of uncertain images, evoking all of the previous chapters of the warrior bard’s badly written journey, accompanied by a very abstract sense of urgency to make up for lost time and live up to the legend. Hence the title of this post.

In this urgent, adrenaline-charged spiral of Force visions, however, I see myself standing outside the faculty windows at the CMA screaming, “HECTOR! HECTOR!!” over and over again until Dr. Beerman comes out to answer my call to a duel.

Okay, that was a joke. I really, really, really don’t care about revenge. Too much has happened since then for it to matter at all anymore whether or not I get an admission of guilt for how they fucked me with that whole Penderecki thing, or how they were just overall repressive dicks to anyone with an opposing view. I really am not hanging onto that resentment. I mean that. BUT… that still doesn’t mean I want to bump into Dr. Beerman at the grocery store and have to explain what a loser I’ve become (and that also doesn’t mean I won’t someday make a blog post titled Maelstrom, part V: Requiem). It truly has no bearing on my possible return to BG. That was just an innocent reference to Troy, nothing more.

At any rate, Jordan insists that my “humanity” secures my rank in the non-loser line, and he thinks I should finalize my Statham-ian transition by shaving my head and buying a blue polo shirt.

OR… I could move to Kansas City the second I find anything promising. I am poised at the staging ground for a departure, though I have no destination or opportunity. I’m just ready.

Not that it will matter one bit.

I feel like I’m this close to finally breaking out and doing something awesome, but these vague, kaleidoscopic visions will surely not come to pass.

And so, the warrior bard fought until he could fight no longer, and at the end of the long day, he finally laid himself to rest, staring into the blackness with hope and fear and sorrow and joy, until at last merciful sleep claimed him, where he dreamt of Sydney Harbor, of the wineries and art festivals of Adelaide, of the rustic timber cottages outside of Brisbane, of the view of the Blue Mountains not far from the coffee shop in Katoomba where he tended his blog…