by Travis Mateer
Two days ago, during the shortest day of the year, my new blog went live. One3twenty is part of my plan to turn my bricks and mortar failure into a mobile project better positioned to break the local narrative control that exists around the death of Sean Stevenson.
One3twenty? What does that mean? Let me rewrite it in a way that is more familiar: 1-3-20.
Yes, it’s a date on the calendar, and you can read more about the meaning at my new virtual location for documenting this long, strange trip of mine.
I’ve touched on the more esoteric ways in which I extract meaning from the world around me, especially as it relates to synchronicities, but this summer and fall have taken things to a whole new level for me, and mobility was a BIG reason why.
The effort to save Holland Lake here in Montana has been a true inspiration for me, so I’ve taken a page from that wildly successful campaign and applied it to my new project. The result? A big magnet that transforms my box into a mobile billboard.
Doesn’t that look nice? I think it looks GREAT! And by having this magnet I’ll be doing SOMETHING, even when doing virtually nothing else. I like the idea of promoting my work while idling in traffic, or gassing up at a gas station, or sitting in the parking lot of a football game in Frisco, TX.
How else have the Keepers of Holland Lake inspired me?
Well, by showing me what this community can accomplish when they REALLY care about something–like, you know, care enough to SPEND MONEY on it–I did what the University of Montana trained me to do, and that’s putting a strong emotional reaction into a more tolerable form other than YELLING.
Please enjoy this poem as the light returns to our hemisphere.
IF SEAN STEVENSON WAS THE LAKE WHERE I WAS MARRIED
if Sean Stevenson was the lake
where I was married
the magic explanation of the chokehold
would evaporate like mist
and like a child's belief in Santa
the REAL eater of the cookies
would be exposed
If Sean Stevenson was the lake
where I was married
billboards would scream his name
and show a smile broader than
Salma's perky mountains
selling Dogma
how many privileged oars
shuddered at the blasphemy
of losing their calm waters?
how many high-placed calls
made government bodies squirm
as Boomer retirement plans flexed
serious muscle?
if Sean Stevenson was the lake
where I was married
police reports & stick-figure storylines
would be eviscerated
by a team of well-paid lawyers
with drops of blood sneaking out
the corners of smiling mouths
if Sean Stevenson was the lake
where I was married
maybe a different kind of baptism
would have found me
washing out the high ground I thought
I stood on
now watch me try
to web my feet
and amphibian over to a different patch
of land
croaking bullfrog warnings
until Wally's cows sober up, and Jeremiah
steps outside
his shadow
Tomorrow, on the eve of X-mas, I’m afraid I did NOT avoid a YELLING reaction to the smiles of some local globalist-bootlickers, so if that earns me lumps of coal in my stocking so be it!
Thanks for reading!
JC