we think there is a soul, we don't know
i'm euphoric tonight. tonight, through a microcosm of beginning holidays, we were able to reach out and touch that buzzing cable buried deep within the metal heart.
i'm so alive i don't even want or need to write it here. that hasn't happened in so long. i'll just say, us driving through dark misty roads, three cars in a tight row, stopping, starting, speeding, swerving - in one of the cars wendy had her tits hanging out the window, in another car chris had a blowhorn pointing out the window, he sounded just like the brachiosaurus in jurassic park.
laughs flew, old lines, old jokes, old stories...
it's like the amusement park or castle or whatever, that i had spent so many years building with them, well it had been sitting abandoned, cold, boarded up, and for tonight we brought our candles in, cavorted around, owned the place, raced around its parapets or roller coasters, i can't decide which metaphor to use.
tom truly is, was, and will be one of the strongest friendships i had, have, and will keep. how strange. we'd been apart for so long, lost in our little lives - even though for so many years, back in The Time, we had been nextdoor neighbors. how strange it all is. now tonight our wit is just flying everywhere. i can't even talk, my voice comes out as breathy laughing wheezing as i'm trying madly to tell, for the hundredth time, the story of - well now i can't decide which of our rehashed stories tonight was most fit to represent them all. becuase there is none, they are so varied, from whitewater rafting to german class.
i broke to some of them the news that charles had tried to kill himself. how's this? tom and i then had to tell chris, and being the way we were, not knowing how to do it, and already on such a strange giddy high, i said "we'll play the one-word-at-a-time game," and then i said, "charles," tom said "tried," and then we broke out into the giddiest, most pained laughter.
these people are my art and they are why i make it. this is the natural river, this is the cuyahoga, that springs from underground - and not culled from miscellaneous faraway homes into a hierarchy, as college is.
i don't even have a lj icon to fit this post, as it's such a strange, rich, healthy, natural high. tonight i ran with my wolves, fucking stupid and corny as that sounds, we owned our territory and ran free, loud, with parts hanging out.
there will be more. i will no longer avoid or hide from them; now that i'm facebook-out, i feel no need to anymore. thank the fucking lord for that. no, thank me.
i'm so alive i don't even want or need to write it here. that hasn't happened in so long. i'll just say, us driving through dark misty roads, three cars in a tight row, stopping, starting, speeding, swerving - in one of the cars wendy had her tits hanging out the window, in another car chris had a blowhorn pointing out the window, he sounded just like the brachiosaurus in jurassic park.
laughs flew, old lines, old jokes, old stories...
it's like the amusement park or castle or whatever, that i had spent so many years building with them, well it had been sitting abandoned, cold, boarded up, and for tonight we brought our candles in, cavorted around, owned the place, raced around its parapets or roller coasters, i can't decide which metaphor to use.
tom truly is, was, and will be one of the strongest friendships i had, have, and will keep. how strange. we'd been apart for so long, lost in our little lives - even though for so many years, back in The Time, we had been nextdoor neighbors. how strange it all is. now tonight our wit is just flying everywhere. i can't even talk, my voice comes out as breathy laughing wheezing as i'm trying madly to tell, for the hundredth time, the story of - well now i can't decide which of our rehashed stories tonight was most fit to represent them all. becuase there is none, they are so varied, from whitewater rafting to german class.
i broke to some of them the news that charles had tried to kill himself. how's this? tom and i then had to tell chris, and being the way we were, not knowing how to do it, and already on such a strange giddy high, i said "we'll play the one-word-at-a-time game," and then i said, "charles," tom said "tried," and then we broke out into the giddiest, most pained laughter.
these people are my art and they are why i make it. this is the natural river, this is the cuyahoga, that springs from underground - and not culled from miscellaneous faraway homes into a hierarchy, as college is.
i don't even have a lj icon to fit this post, as it's such a strange, rich, healthy, natural high. tonight i ran with my wolves, fucking stupid and corny as that sounds, we owned our territory and ran free, loud, with parts hanging out.
there will be more. i will no longer avoid or hide from them; now that i'm facebook-out, i feel no need to anymore. thank the fucking lord for that. no, thank me.