A loaded Roadie
This day 4 years ago, I was on the final leg of my journey. I stayed in a hotel room outside of Las vegas, anticipating my final destination: Los Angeles.
I woke up this morning, and walked to starbucks with a stop at my mailbox to find a floral card that read : "Happy 4 year anniversary. Im so proud of you and miss you. Love mom." So I drank my coffee on the roof of my apartment, taking long sips of hot sun beating down my neck...thinking about all the friends I had spent time with up there. Friends from LA (some of which Ive lost contact with), friends that had come to visit from Michigan (again, some I was better friends with once when). I couldn't help but look at the Hollywood sign, up on top of the hill...looking down on Los Angeles...and remembering what it had meant to me when I first saw it. Today, it just looked lonely. Sitting there, by itself, barricaded off from the public...up where the smog meets fresh air and where new arrivals stare. Lost in its mystery, and filled with dreams of dollar bills and blinding flashes of photography.
Tonight, after a 10 hr day at work...I again returned to the roof; replacing the coffee with wine.
I noticed how different the city looked now, as opposed to this morning. Softer lines, with lights that seem to stretch on for miles. A shooting star streaked across the sky, in some attempt that seemed so futile. It lingered on with its tail burning as though it was screaming..in its quick life...look at me! But just as Ive found is the case with most things...its brilliance was short. Its youth...quick. Its final attempt to make it self known was as quick as its death. To be a falling star, falling upon a city with such manufactured light...with the likelihood of so few seeing it...seemed to strike some familiarity. I know this feeling.
Maybe it was reading Miles Levin's (my last entry) journal today...someone 18, with cancer, accepting their final fate...maybe it was the 4 years Ive been gone...but something tonight brought my attention to my own hands. Examining them, and thinking about how one day they wouldn't be mine anymore. Someday they would belong to the earth, turned back into the simple molecules from which they came...and I would be...well I dont know.
Looking at your body as some temporary instrument...and knowing...you'll have to leave it...really brought a lot into perspective for me. Its an odd feeling, standing on a roof, watching a falling star, examining your own body, reflecting on the journal of someone you dont know - but whos words you read a few days ago..who doesnt exsist here anymore. The feeling I once had as a teenager...of invincibility...has certainly changed.
All my love, as always
Brent
I woke up this morning, and walked to starbucks with a stop at my mailbox to find a floral card that read : "Happy 4 year anniversary. Im so proud of you and miss you. Love mom." So I drank my coffee on the roof of my apartment, taking long sips of hot sun beating down my neck...thinking about all the friends I had spent time with up there. Friends from LA (some of which Ive lost contact with), friends that had come to visit from Michigan (again, some I was better friends with once when). I couldn't help but look at the Hollywood sign, up on top of the hill...looking down on Los Angeles...and remembering what it had meant to me when I first saw it. Today, it just looked lonely. Sitting there, by itself, barricaded off from the public...up where the smog meets fresh air and where new arrivals stare. Lost in its mystery, and filled with dreams of dollar bills and blinding flashes of photography.
Tonight, after a 10 hr day at work...I again returned to the roof; replacing the coffee with wine.
I noticed how different the city looked now, as opposed to this morning. Softer lines, with lights that seem to stretch on for miles. A shooting star streaked across the sky, in some attempt that seemed so futile. It lingered on with its tail burning as though it was screaming..in its quick life...look at me! But just as Ive found is the case with most things...its brilliance was short. Its youth...quick. Its final attempt to make it self known was as quick as its death. To be a falling star, falling upon a city with such manufactured light...with the likelihood of so few seeing it...seemed to strike some familiarity. I know this feeling.
Maybe it was reading Miles Levin's (my last entry) journal today...someone 18, with cancer, accepting their final fate...maybe it was the 4 years Ive been gone...but something tonight brought my attention to my own hands. Examining them, and thinking about how one day they wouldn't be mine anymore. Someday they would belong to the earth, turned back into the simple molecules from which they came...and I would be...well I dont know.
Looking at your body as some temporary instrument...and knowing...you'll have to leave it...really brought a lot into perspective for me. Its an odd feeling, standing on a roof, watching a falling star, examining your own body, reflecting on the journal of someone you dont know - but whos words you read a few days ago..who doesnt exsist here anymore. The feeling I once had as a teenager...of invincibility...has certainly changed.
All my love, as always
Brent