The Road Diaries

by Kevin Carrel Footer
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“Good Night and Good Milonga to You”

“Good Night and Good Milonga to You”

The man stood in the bathroom at El Beso, gathering up his belongings. He had just risen from the chair that is always left in bathrooms at milongas so that you can change in and out of your dance shoes in privacy. Now he was putting his dance shoes into a cloth bag...

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Creation is Celebration

Creation is Celebration

You made me beautiful, she answered, after seeing the photos. In my world, there could be nothing more fulfilling than hearing those words. To find beauty – even better, to help someone see their own beauty – is the highest act, the greatest good. For me, creation is...

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When the Argentines Stopped Talking

When the Argentines Stopped Talking

When the Argentines Stopped Talking by Kevin Carrel Footer I’m mostly a bus kind of guy – I like the hoi polloi. But I was running late and grabbed a taxi across town. The driver seemed genuinely glad to see me. I soon learned that he was gladder still that I didn't...

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A Bold Love

A Bold Love

BUENOS AIRES, Argentina – I want a bold love, the kind that flows like a steep mountain river, roaring over the rock bed, pushing fallen branches and stones out of its way. I want a love that overflows and missteps and clamors back, a little wiser for its mistakes. I...

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The Raw Joy of Living Through Words

The Raw Joy of Living Through Words

SAN FRANCISCO, CA – At the back of a closet, in a box that I was sure had been lost, I found a treasure trove of old diaries. As I write in my journal most every day, come rain or shine, depression or ecstasy, I have plenty of old journals lying around. But these were...

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Hard-Ramblin’ Poets

Hard-Ramblin’ Poets

SAN FRANCISCO, CA – At the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, I met some poets for hire. The three of them sat in a prim line in front of their old typewriters, waiting for those in need of a poem. The came from all over. From Duluth, Minnesota; from Austin, Texas;...

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Cracking It Open

Cracking It Open

I remember the times it happened. I remember a chaise longue by a pool at a roadside motel where several hundred prized teenagers were gathered one weekend. Alone, recently arrived at the conference, I sat in the smog-tinged roadside sun and read a copy of The New...

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Roadhog’s House Ain’t There No More

Roadhog’s House Ain’t There No More

MT. SHASTA, CA – I had spent several days prowling around the mountain but I had absolutely no urge to go up it. I had been on it once before many years ago and I knew it couldn’t be conquered, that I didn’t even want to. I no longer had the hubris. The mountain had...

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The Velvety Sadness

The Velvety Sadness

The tour ends. The rain begins to fall. There is a velvety sadness hanging between the trees. I trust the sadness because sadness is love. We leave behind old friends whom we see at most once a year. We leave behind a raw existence where life...

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That Rascal Inspiration

That Rascal Inspiration

Every piece of writing worth reading requires inspiration. Without it, the whole event falls flat like open champagne bottles the day after a blow-out party. You might shake them up a bit and get some fizz, but the flavor is rancid and no one will believe you. When...

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