It has been in the upper 80’s here for the past week. It was supposed to be 71 today. It was 87. Air conditioners are running everywhere. The laziness of the south is apparent. Spitting and smoking are blooming in the springtime.

A banjo plays here in the village after midnight. A group of youth are cackling down the street.

It is loud. I want to call the police..but would they be allowed to do anything about it. I bet there is a law in town that allows banjo playing 24/7, except when church is in service on Sunday morning (and that excludes when banjos are used in the church to play music).

Oh, I’m exhausted. I’ve been in this village three thousand days. It’s always looked so strange. The faces…so bored. In the distance a child is crying…smoking…a bojangled child, perhaps. My mind aches, my heart aches, but my feet…my feet are resilient! Thank God I took off my heels and put on my Hillbilly walking shoes!

This is your brain on banjo music.

I think the heat and thousands of days here have finally done me in. Not sure if I have much more energy to keep letting you all know about the thrill and excitement that takes place here in the village every single day. A change may be needed. A new source of energy.

Now with all the people running around in this village with guns, why can’t someone take out the damn banjo-ite? I fucking want to sleep. Isn’t this considered torture under the Geneva convention?