Tuesday, April 12, 2011

The Appalaichian Cat Overture

Often in the spin-cycle of the daily trek, the nuances lose out to the rubber-stamp ambiences of life. Such is the case in Knoxville Tennessee-a college town where echoing ripples of "Rocky Top" manage to outsound the holler symphonies created nightly and known as the Appalachian Cat Overture. Members of this troop share only one commonality, they are haints bound to roam the hills and stills and compose nocturnal spirit refrains, (for those with ears to hear such sounds unavailable via Ipod).
Knoxville's malady is symbolic of the schism much of the NeoSouth strains and shifts upon, seeking a sense of reality in a 24 hour news/life/caste bereft of a modern Faulkner. Frustrated by the fear of blending into the future, they become impotent past-clingers. Instead of a benevolent guide, there is merely a faint siren's song, difficult to descern, harder to soberly acknowledge.
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