Written Aloud to "Row"

There are times when, for no reason at all
I cease to see anything: everything beyond me;
the visible breath that escapes my lips,
the panoramic world that shines as it sets,
the faces of people I know who smile in return,
the leaves that whisper as they're carried by the wind...

The pebbles that crunch under foot,
and remind me of summer;
Pulling into an unpaved driveway,
charmed by the sound of gravel between treads,
and stopping for ice cream after a day spent in the shade
of trees forever thankful for a friend.

It's times like these,
when the world around me ceases to be,
and I'm taken away to a place impossible to define.
It is a scene made perfect
by its very innocence;
By its love unsurpassed and,
its longing for those moments that bring tears,
simply because of the music they could write
to meet them.



written while listening to "Row" by Jon Brion

A Record?

Streamed consciousness: October 10th, 2008.


It's a magnificent departure from the norm; abounding in vitality, cresting the breadth of passionate existence as it's freed from fetters found faithfully fallen to the ground (and filled with fiery alliteration), the greens and blues and whites and bricks of red, buildings and columns and lawns of immaculate care - bring it out, lay it upon sheets of its own grandeur; blossoming in showers of shimmering sunlit drops, euphoria inspired by merely breathing the crispness in the air! Steps and jumps and spins of a lighthearted touch - footfalls likened to the tip-tap-tapping of an accelerated analog clock, palpitating with infrequent fits of spontaneous changes in metronomic consistency...

It shouldn't be so difficult to feel like this every day. Maybe the chances of shaking the malignant melancholy of inactivity are spiked with every moment you spend thinking of something other than... what you've been thinking about for days. Talk to someone new, invite an acquaintance over with the intention of eventually being able to call it a friendship. Break barriers and leave them in piles of conquered rubble in the back alleys of your mind to be swept away into the repository of reminiscence - memories speckled with the sentimentality of time.

This is what it means to be alive....

At least right now.