Two posts in one.
Written by candle light (for the power had been out for quite some time, apprently), somewhere around 1 AM Wednesday morning. I forgot how much I love the smoke and scent of burning cardboard matches.
Tonight was breathtaking, but, perhaps only in a way that can be appreciated by those who have accepted the delicate magnificence of the unknown.
I remember walking from my car to work and smelling the clouds above, clenching tight the oceans of water that their grip was preparing to lose grasp of. I remember feeling the aches of a downfall in each of my once fractured wrists. And I remember the nearly instant conversion from a quiet Texas summer night to the barrage of rain propelling itself past the front glass wall of my restaurant; the water appearing to move horizontally more than it did vertically.
As I watched in awe as the orbs of water fell, the wind crash, the lightning crack, and the thunder, not clap, but applaud, the power went out and I realized the sudden change in my fellow co-workers. One began to talk about how he wasn't ready to die by a tornado in Freebids World Burrito and how Boulder, Calorado was so much better. Another readied our escape route into the walk-in refrigerator. And yet another spoke constantly of the non-existant tornado sirens she was hearing. However, for whatever reason, I saw the whole thing in a different light. I was not phased by the violent rip of the wind or the swing of the distant greenery. I saw it as a chance to live life and found a grin on my face rather than the stamp of fear. So, I bummed a cigarette and stepped outside to witness whatever there was to see. I have never been a smoker, except for in times of celebration, and this particular moment seemed appropriate. As I exited the building, onto the front patio, I looked around at all that I could see, which was only the reflection of light off of glass and concrete as the lightning cast it's strobe effect on the surrounding landscape. There was only darkness, as far as the eye could see, except for that provided by the lightning. As I lit my cigarette and took the first few puffs, I looked up only to see the various hues of purple and green from exploding transformers in the distant horizon. It was wordless poetry. Each stanza flawlessly written and crafted by The Writer itself. I loved those minutes of rain and tragedy. I loved that cigarette.
That night was crammed full of the kind of beauitful chaos so rarely witnessed by the human eye.
As I drove home, the streets were covered with leaves and branches, cast with ease by the winds of devestation. However, now that the storm had passed, it was all at rest, and above my head stood the moon, with all its crescent glory, peeking out from the last reamining halo of clouds, left behind by the storm.
Tonight, Wednesday night.
Tonight was ridiculous. It seems, by some twist of fate, another powerful storm has found its way atop Dallas.
I went to Tae Kwon Do tonight, and on the return trip, which is about a 30 minute drive, my surroundings transformed from a Texas summer sunset to darkness in about a half a mile. The shroud of blackness cast by the incoming storm made nighttime in the city look like a poorly-told joke. Instantly the wind picked up, pushing my car to each side of my lane without and trouble at all. Lightning shot down around my vehicle at every strike of the clock's hand. Another disaster was afoot. And my reaction did not change at all.
In an even less secure environment than last night's, I was filled with a rush of adrenaline that rivaled the storm's. So, heading directly into the storm on the way home, I rolled my windows down, cranked up some rock and fucking roll as loud as my speakers would allow, and pressed the accelterator into the ground. It was another perfect moment. It was a race against that which should not be raced against. But it was amazing.
The leaves that lay dormant on the street at the end of last night danced with a circular delight, in anticipation of that to come.
I can't wait to see how tonight ends.
Kam (water)
Tonight was breathtaking, but, perhaps only in a way that can be appreciated by those who have accepted the delicate magnificence of the unknown.
I remember walking from my car to work and smelling the clouds above, clenching tight the oceans of water that their grip was preparing to lose grasp of. I remember feeling the aches of a downfall in each of my once fractured wrists. And I remember the nearly instant conversion from a quiet Texas summer night to the barrage of rain propelling itself past the front glass wall of my restaurant; the water appearing to move horizontally more than it did vertically.
As I watched in awe as the orbs of water fell, the wind crash, the lightning crack, and the thunder, not clap, but applaud, the power went out and I realized the sudden change in my fellow co-workers. One began to talk about how he wasn't ready to die by a tornado in Freebids World Burrito and how Boulder, Calorado was so much better. Another readied our escape route into the walk-in refrigerator. And yet another spoke constantly of the non-existant tornado sirens she was hearing. However, for whatever reason, I saw the whole thing in a different light. I was not phased by the violent rip of the wind or the swing of the distant greenery. I saw it as a chance to live life and found a grin on my face rather than the stamp of fear. So, I bummed a cigarette and stepped outside to witness whatever there was to see. I have never been a smoker, except for in times of celebration, and this particular moment seemed appropriate. As I exited the building, onto the front patio, I looked around at all that I could see, which was only the reflection of light off of glass and concrete as the lightning cast it's strobe effect on the surrounding landscape. There was only darkness, as far as the eye could see, except for that provided by the lightning. As I lit my cigarette and took the first few puffs, I looked up only to see the various hues of purple and green from exploding transformers in the distant horizon. It was wordless poetry. Each stanza flawlessly written and crafted by The Writer itself. I loved those minutes of rain and tragedy. I loved that cigarette.
That night was crammed full of the kind of beauitful chaos so rarely witnessed by the human eye.
As I drove home, the streets were covered with leaves and branches, cast with ease by the winds of devestation. However, now that the storm had passed, it was all at rest, and above my head stood the moon, with all its crescent glory, peeking out from the last reamining halo of clouds, left behind by the storm.
Tonight, Wednesday night.
Tonight was ridiculous. It seems, by some twist of fate, another powerful storm has found its way atop Dallas.
I went to Tae Kwon Do tonight, and on the return trip, which is about a 30 minute drive, my surroundings transformed from a Texas summer sunset to darkness in about a half a mile. The shroud of blackness cast by the incoming storm made nighttime in the city look like a poorly-told joke. Instantly the wind picked up, pushing my car to each side of my lane without and trouble at all. Lightning shot down around my vehicle at every strike of the clock's hand. Another disaster was afoot. And my reaction did not change at all.
In an even less secure environment than last night's, I was filled with a rush of adrenaline that rivaled the storm's. So, heading directly into the storm on the way home, I rolled my windows down, cranked up some rock and fucking roll as loud as my speakers would allow, and pressed the accelterator into the ground. It was another perfect moment. It was a race against that which should not be raced against. But it was amazing.
The leaves that lay dormant on the street at the end of last night danced with a circular delight, in anticipation of that to come.
I can't wait to see how tonight ends.
Kam (water)