Two much
'There goes the sun
Here comes the night
Somebody turn on the light
Somebody tell me that fate has been kind...
You can't go out
You are out of your mind!
It's like a movie
It's a B movie show'
Thought presupposes language but if language presupposes existence....well, open wide, saliva pumping furious streaming through the cracks in your teeth. A walk down the wind tunnel, wet teeth chattering in the last throes of winter. To the ocean waves and ripples just as disturbed by the moon and the wind as we can be. The slightest feeling of exhilaration, nothing more, nothing new. Cannons aimed through narrow valleys out to sea, if I'm not coming back take our son home and don't wait for me. Hark! In the cove, a beach as man-made as the tubs of hot coal and munitions bunkers but like gothic architecture on the highest of hills haunted by persisting mistakes it fades into the yellow-greens and browns and pinks enough to satisfy. A pirate attack? A smirk, a captain's smirk. From across the bay squat under your face turns a concerning pale shade of blue, blood running cold to the surface. To set forth on a great adventure! To make sure every rock is scoured until it can no longer take the scouring! To sneak along cliffsides towards the tower. Ahh yes! To lay siege upon this castle! To sneak up behind the dragon and dropkick him in the teeth, run run! I will slay him with distraction! Just another beach. But not just another bench. And suddenly silence enough from myself to hear the sky, slow soft waiting relax. Slow soft waiting spinning kaleidoscope clouds across the bay as they move from stark contrast to the sky so blue into a muddled grey collective mass above the town. Joy. What? A bird? Gone. And others too several at once or just one and then, no, disappearing. Nerves. Flying flying gone, back again and multiplied, gone. Something clearly is happening. A new bench, but shivering. On the return trip, a clear patch of water that catches the eye, standing leaning, rail, and the clouds stationary faster. The trees outlines and surprising pinks an ignored 180 degrees of vision always. Thrills and chills, back through the wind tunnel. Inside. A window to watch the world from the comfort of your insides. Getting smaller. Aching joy. A bed, oh ho! A bed waiting to be acted upon with mud flaps and fudge cows and thins beyond the minds wildest imaginations. Play, a rhythmic pulse of wah and then trickling hammers up and down and suddenly the floor drops out into a boom and clapping around all around surrounds heads. Perfect. But mirrors and scripture and vampires and tigers and screaming, ha ha! From outside to inside to oh no, inside. My brain a speeding train. A thought a thought a thought genius insanity no time to reflect, it's gone and more still comer quickening loosening, no retracing, fear of forgetting. Language cannot keep up, nothing's presupposing anything now. Lying staring wondering hoping daring trapped. Losing an emotional context, losing communication, losing hope of remembering. Deafeningly quiet. Hours, the purple goo that collects in the light bulbs, the canals os water being rinsed across the headboard, is the wallpaper moving? there is no wallpaper. Spyglasses, some glorious homage to guybrush to distract and circles or squares but not both, good thing. Everything alien, morbidly comical. Zaireeka! This be the thing, some bells, some horns, plinking, laughing back to the window. And in the brightest sunlight yet it snows and blows and absurdly hard. Oh right, everything is ridiculous and we are already quite aware. Eye contact the scariest of all. A beer or six later to drown, subdue, to refresh, a jaunt in the pool to float the gloat to sing 'earth below us drifting falling floating weightless coming coming home'. To dance, to talk about what I'm able, to listen to the details, a brightly focused blur of confusion until we can achieve a dreamless sleep.
'Lying on my back. I heard music.
Felt unsure; catastrophic.
Had to tell myself it's only music.
It blows my mind, but it's like that.
Is anyone there? What could you tell me?
Afraid of what? Would you ever know?
Everyone else is really boring.
Anyone else wouldn't be good enough.
Some place safe I would imagine.
Someone new would be so cruel.
Incurable paranoiac. Hysterical depression.
Alex I'm your only friend.
Alex your love will sing for you'
Here comes the night
Somebody turn on the light
Somebody tell me that fate has been kind...
You can't go out
You are out of your mind!
It's like a movie
It's a B movie show'
Thought presupposes language but if language presupposes existence....well, open wide, saliva pumping furious streaming through the cracks in your teeth. A walk down the wind tunnel, wet teeth chattering in the last throes of winter. To the ocean waves and ripples just as disturbed by the moon and the wind as we can be. The slightest feeling of exhilaration, nothing more, nothing new. Cannons aimed through narrow valleys out to sea, if I'm not coming back take our son home and don't wait for me. Hark! In the cove, a beach as man-made as the tubs of hot coal and munitions bunkers but like gothic architecture on the highest of hills haunted by persisting mistakes it fades into the yellow-greens and browns and pinks enough to satisfy. A pirate attack? A smirk, a captain's smirk. From across the bay squat under your face turns a concerning pale shade of blue, blood running cold to the surface. To set forth on a great adventure! To make sure every rock is scoured until it can no longer take the scouring! To sneak along cliffsides towards the tower. Ahh yes! To lay siege upon this castle! To sneak up behind the dragon and dropkick him in the teeth, run run! I will slay him with distraction! Just another beach. But not just another bench. And suddenly silence enough from myself to hear the sky, slow soft waiting relax. Slow soft waiting spinning kaleidoscope clouds across the bay as they move from stark contrast to the sky so blue into a muddled grey collective mass above the town. Joy. What? A bird? Gone. And others too several at once or just one and then, no, disappearing. Nerves. Flying flying gone, back again and multiplied, gone. Something clearly is happening. A new bench, but shivering. On the return trip, a clear patch of water that catches the eye, standing leaning, rail, and the clouds stationary faster. The trees outlines and surprising pinks an ignored 180 degrees of vision always. Thrills and chills, back through the wind tunnel. Inside. A window to watch the world from the comfort of your insides. Getting smaller. Aching joy. A bed, oh ho! A bed waiting to be acted upon with mud flaps and fudge cows and thins beyond the minds wildest imaginations. Play, a rhythmic pulse of wah and then trickling hammers up and down and suddenly the floor drops out into a boom and clapping around all around surrounds heads. Perfect. But mirrors and scripture and vampires and tigers and screaming, ha ha! From outside to inside to oh no, inside. My brain a speeding train. A thought a thought a thought genius insanity no time to reflect, it's gone and more still comer quickening loosening, no retracing, fear of forgetting. Language cannot keep up, nothing's presupposing anything now. Lying staring wondering hoping daring trapped. Losing an emotional context, losing communication, losing hope of remembering. Deafeningly quiet. Hours, the purple goo that collects in the light bulbs, the canals os water being rinsed across the headboard, is the wallpaper moving? there is no wallpaper. Spyglasses, some glorious homage to guybrush to distract and circles or squares but not both, good thing. Everything alien, morbidly comical. Zaireeka! This be the thing, some bells, some horns, plinking, laughing back to the window. And in the brightest sunlight yet it snows and blows and absurdly hard. Oh right, everything is ridiculous and we are already quite aware. Eye contact the scariest of all. A beer or six later to drown, subdue, to refresh, a jaunt in the pool to float the gloat to sing 'earth below us drifting falling floating weightless coming coming home'. To dance, to talk about what I'm able, to listen to the details, a brightly focused blur of confusion until we can achieve a dreamless sleep.
'Lying on my back. I heard music.
Felt unsure; catastrophic.
Had to tell myself it's only music.
It blows my mind, but it's like that.
Is anyone there? What could you tell me?
Afraid of what? Would you ever know?
Everyone else is really boring.
Anyone else wouldn't be good enough.
Some place safe I would imagine.
Someone new would be so cruel.
Incurable paranoiac. Hysterical depression.
Alex I'm your only friend.
Alex your love will sing for you'