what's the story morning glory?
Saturday was a breathtaking day spent hiking around the North Bend area with my brother and Kahlua. We got lost looking for a lake but were greatly satisfied with the end result. My shins ache, ass aches, my thighs are throbbing, and there are blisters on my feet. I'm falling apart and I'm loving every second of it.
My favorite thoughts were each 38 seconds long Saturday night. Seamless lightening strikes- a dysfunctional ballet- permeating within my head that I blushed at knowing that I could only grab one at a time to further explore it. Indulging in the large expanding of the lungs - deflation- shadows lurking, gyrating, oozing. The stars were exceptionally bright and we spent 10 minutes talking about how we could only see one star from the window. We were laying on the floor, the fire place to our right. "No, it's an airplane. It's definitely moving." In all actuality it was the crackled tree branches that coerced the star to move. I merely listened. Listened to the languid whispers confessing whatever needed to be confessed. It took time because each spoken word was distracted with the slightest play of the light against the ceiling. In the end it came out, eyes shining like the brightest porcelain, a graduated candor of a child. I remember at a certain point that the whole room was ablaze from the dancing of the flames against the walls, faces, limbs and sounds. Listening to the strum of Oasis, The Cars, and originals on the guitar. Then it all exploded in drums and beats and wails and clocks and oceans and hammers and heartbeats and train crashes and and and - all scattering around the corners until there was only humming and murmur. And I was just expecting God to burst through the door and say "You finally understand, félicitations!" And to think all this after a couple of packets of morning glory seeds and dinner's bok choy floating in the toilet before me.