04.07.08
lost at sea
earson: stars - celebration guns
eyeson: landscapes about to explode with color
thoughton: the smell of spring is this piskiekin's liquor
this weekend i:
- said 'baa' to laamas
- took a long drive
- let a bird into a barn
- remembered a road for good reasons
- bought a stuffed dinosaur for someone else along with a mask, a cape, and a tiny goatee to go with it
- listened to a new album with the old religion in my head
- remembered what it was like to desire
- began to forget the sea
- said it was a 'nice day'
- ate a bowl of rice, peas, broccoli, sweet/sour sauce, and mint leaves
- noticed how beautiful things could be
- was relieved
- decided some things are OK the way they are
when she walked into the club the walls were the color of a bruise and the people had such light in their eyes from the stage. light that caught in their teeth and rings, in their beltbuckles and in their beer bottles, this light was the vicious connective tissue and music was the muscle.
sulane slipped her hands into her pockets and tucked her nose against her collar a moment or two, turning a glance over the nearest bodies. was this the appeal of the boy with the pitless eyes? her sight snagged on this face, that ear, those hands raised and that cellphone flipped open .. someone bumped into her hip and said 'hello' and she muttered something that greeted in return. something she felt she shouldn't have done a moment later, skirting attempts at vague too-loud conversation in favor of the crowd clustered in front of the band.
the smell in the air was smoke and leather, was kicked-up dust, was floorboards that hadn't been stomped properly in some time. she recognized the boy in the bowler hat grown older and playing a bass guitar. for awhile sulane was treading water in a sea of electronic whispers and drumbeat hiccups, very lost but together with other victims of the shipwreck. she felt her bones recognized the tune, that her ribcage was singing along and the pulse in her neck was humming harmony.
but that couldn't be? not so far from home.
written at 1:45 a.m.
