reflections from the southeast PA rural underground

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Late April

If it keeps raining at night we'll never get the first 5000 in the ground. I kept rummaging this around in my brain, shuffling the line back and forth and all around like a loose thread in the breeze. "I could talk film all day," he said. "Yeah me too," I responded. The conversation went from Jarmusch to No Country for Old Men to Wes Anderson to Cronenberg. "Somehow the music just doesn't fit, the score doesn't quite go with some of the scenes in Bottle Rocket," he said. That brought me back from the tomatoes but not out of the soil. I continued to stare at the young Arcadia broccoli plants in the ground in front of me and kept scraping at the tiny green Lamb's-quarters weeds with my slender hoe. This was the 3rd or 4th straight hour of "cultivation" today. "Yeah," he said. I've been in the zone for about an hour and a half now.

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