Three Things...
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Thing One
I've just found a new song for CH. Yes, I am still holding a burning candle for CH. (Why does that phrase not seem right?) I still think about it ALL the freaking time. I'm just... It's just too much right now. BUT, I heard this song, looked up the lyrics and DAMN do I like it. In fact I like it for the last chapter that went up.. wait, I mean the next one to go up. Eh, both.
Bowie AZ by Milton Mapes
lyrics
I don't care how dark it gets
how much you spent
the walls you hit
all these days will pass with time
you'll walk that line
but you'll be fine
and i'll be waiting at the sign
rest your mind when they call your name
don't play too hard
it's just a game
it doesn't matter if you win
your sideways cap and child like grin
are what i long to see again
you'll tell me what kind of man I've been
someday when you've reached the end
when we meet in the desert wind
video
Click to view-----------------
Thing Number 2
I'm officially on week three of Couch to 5k. I pretty much skipped the first two weeks based on where I was already at. Tomorrow is the 4mile walk/run with the Marathon Training Group. lol. I don't know why I made that all caps. When I run around my house, one of my favorite loops has TWO houses that have a poetry box. I don't know if this is just a weird Portland thing (who's city motto actually is "Keep Portland Weird") but I love these. There is a small volcano a mile from my house (oh yes, you read that right) and the houses near it are gorgeous big old Craftsmans. My favorite place to run so far. Last Monday I found a poetry box in someone's front yard. The box itself was poetry - all layered pieces of copper with rounded edges. I did cut my hand on it though, which wasn't so great. This is the only photo I could find that closely resembles what I'm talking about.
I've decided that my house will have one of these. :)
Imagine my COMPLETE GIDDINESS when I realized it was by the author of my FAVORITE piece of writing. You'll remember this:
Your absence has gone through me like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with it's color.
*flail*
Here it is:
The Drunk In The Furnace by W.S. Merwin
For a good decade
The furnace stood in the naked gully, fireless
And vacant as any hat. Then when it was
No more to them than a hulking black fossil
To erode unnoticed with the rest of the junk-hill
By the poisonous creek, and rapidly to be added
To their ignorance
They were afterwards astonished
To confirm, one morning, a twist of smoke like a pale
Resurrection, staggering out of it chewed hole,
And to remark then other tokens that someone,
Cosily bolted behind the eye-holed iron
Door of the drafty burner, had there established
His bad castle.
Where he gets his spirits
It's a mystery. But the stuff keeps him musical:
Hammer-and-anvilling with poker and bottle
To his jugged bellowings, till the last groaning clang
As he collapses onto the rioting
Springs of a litter of car-seats ranged on the grates,
To sleep like an iron pig.
In their tar-paper church
On a text about stoke-holes that are sated never
Their Reverend lingers. They nod and hate trespassers.
When the furnace wakes, though, all afternnon
Their witless offspring flock like piped rats to its siren
Crescendo, and agape on the crumbling ridge
Stand in a row and learn.
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I really love, "vacant as any hat" and "they were afterwards astonished to confirm, one morning..." and "had established his bad castle"
*sigh*
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Thing Three
I forget...
...
...
OH! Gah, this photo. All I've wanted to do since I came across it is write!!!
But, I'm working. And then there is Luca. And then details. And running. And... Fuuuuuuuuck.
Tell me something beautiful.
EDIT: Holding a torch? lol. I like the imagery of a candle better. Oh well.