m o t i o n l e s s
m o t i o n l se s
m o t i o n sle s
m o t i osn l e s
m o t i so n l e s
m o t si o n l e s
m ost i o n l e s
m so t i o n l e s sm o t i o n l e s s om t i o n l e s s o m t i no l e s s o m t ni o l e s s o m nt i o l e s s o m n t oi l e s s o m n oti l e s s o m n o t lie s s o m n o lt i e s s o m n o l it e s
I've been tracking my listening habits with last.fm since I was in high school. As I'm about to turn 30, it's nice to be able to look back on almost my entire adult life – to see how I've changed and how my tastes have changed with me.
“Can I ask you one more question?”
“Sure.”
“Have you already decided on the next barn to burn?”
This caused him to furrow up wrinkles between his eyes; then he inhaled audibly through his nose. “Well, yes. As a matter of fact, I have.”
I sipped the last of my beer and said nothing.
“A great barn. The first barn really worth burning in ages. Fact is, I went and checked it out only today.”
“Which means, it must be nearby.”
“Very near,” he confirmed.
I walked around with a map, penciling in X’s wherever there was a barn or shed. For the next three days, I covered four kilometers in all four directions. Living toward the outskirts of town, there are still a good many farmers in the vicinity. So it came to a considerable number of barns—sixteen altogether.
I carefully checked the condition of each of these, and from the sixteen I eliminated all those where there were houses in the immediate proximity or greenhouses alongside. I also eliminated those in which there were farm implements or chemicals or signs that they were still in active use. I didn’t imagine he’d want to burn tools or fertilizer. That left five barns.
Every morning, I still run past those five barns. Not one of them has yet burned down. Nor do I hear of any barn fires. Come December, the birds strafe overhead. And I keep getting older. Although just now and then, in the depths of the night, I’ll think about barns burning to the ground.