I’ve been wanting to write about BUBBLES. I’ve been thinking about bubbles. What if these bubbles were like bubbles that come out of the ocean? They rise to the surface and pop. They’re in a chain with lots of other bubbles.
This year as a stage manager for Sidewalk Festival, I helped clean up at the end of the night. I had got in my car to leave and then found myself getting out of the car and asking Ryan how could I help? She was carrying chairs to the Uhaul, so that’s what I did too. I didn’t want to leave the bubble. Pretty soon the street barricades were removed, and car traffic quickly filled the street, plain old dangerous car traffic rode through what just hours prior was a magical land of drumming, dancing, teacup breaking, rock n roll, hip hop, and experimental fabric-performance-art. The bubble rose to surface and popped.
The night previous, a bubble formed when one of the bands said they couldn’t make it for their performance slot (there was a date confusion), and the MC and I agreed that we needed to find the young person who asked earlier if he could dance on stage. The dancer, along with two others, filled up that bubble with light and energy - it filled the room! We were all in it, watching the moves, feeling the beat. The band did show up, and they took to the now heated up stage and SANG about dispositions and self-love. They took the space of confusion (the date typo) and embraced music above everything else. All these bubbles inside me. I was exhausted.
I saw the band Bush Tetras at the Lager House, thanks to Wade for telling me about it. Damn they were good! The bass player wore no shoes or socks, the drummer was wicked, and how was the guitar player making those sounds?? A bubble appeared when they played their hit song “Creep” and several young women got on stage and danced. So many women on stage. I had tears in my eyes, it was so good in that bubble. We just need a little buffer, that’s all.
I got caught in a rainstorm (apparently Michigan now gets tropical-esque storms) and I was hiding under an awning from the downpour. I heard a loud knock at the window - Come in!! - she screamed at me, the owner of the dry cleaning place. I came in and she handed me a towel and said - Wipe off everywhere! The she took one of those dry cleaning bags and put it over my head and body, making holes for the head and arms. A few others came in for their dry cleaning, wading thru the rushing waters that hadn’t been there 5 minutes before. We were all together in the bubble, and then as the sun came out, it rose to the surface and was gone.
Are bubbles like temporary autonomous zones? I don’t know. We just need a little coziness, supportive conditions, and we bubble like saurkraut, life forming on us, in us, and between us. We become transformed: tasty, more nutritional, and easier to digest.