Before dorm rooms at the university sported air conditioners, lazy heat drifted into South Louisiana and little stood in the way of it. In the old sections of town people would sit on their front porches in the late afternoon to catch the extra breezes. The whole world turned a deep dark green for a short while in spring. After that the vegetation began to look dusty and thirsty, and few years went by when the amount of rain seemed to be enough.
Down the old Dutch Highlands Road in the 1970's a building with "Turkish Baths" painted on the side gave mute testimony to the fate of businesses considered out of step with Southern culture. How such a business opened in the first place was more curious than the fact that it closed down. The building stood on a bluff with those words and barred doors for more than a decade. Nobody ever came or went from the abandoned structure.
The old town never changed very quickly. Many years would pass by with the landscape and buildings almost seeming to be on display, unchanged, in a big glass terrarium. Unless one paid close attention few alterations could be seen taking place.
Looking at such a nearly static lifestyle one may wonder how many local youths want to accelerate time, to force moments to a climax, to bring changes into existence. The snail's pace of fulfillment eventually catches up with those who wait. Many hold the belief that a shifting temporal perspective comes with age, and time seems to pass faster over the years. Perhaps it all depends on the person. Those who wait never see the clock race, and those who know true bliss sometimes wish they could make it stop.
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Notes:
1. While working on Step Too lines were reused from Gift, the film featuring Jane's Addiction. The samples were simple dialog, and were recreated, but credit needed to be given. The movie is anti-drug in a very real way. The song was meant to convey the sense of ad nauseum vocal repetition common to pharmaceutical addicts.
2. Downtown Baton Rouge is basically a WiFi dead zone. There's one spot. Some of us dream about the old promises of free net access, and wake up in cold sweats. Old farts...