Believe me when i say now

Remember me July?  Like always we started off with a bang, thud my heart with a million colors of bright in the night sky.  In the rosy morning we rose, trailing hooking lines in the dirt.  In an outcrop of rocks we cast our lines tangential to the river, laying back in dappled sunshine drinking watermelon and talking about nothing you or I could care about.  We went to the movies and found the perfect rock to meditate on, in two completely different places.  We found new music in real life and recorded self-penned songs on the fly: in a crowded bus, an airport, in an open market.  We dragged our DVR to the dump and launched it via spring loaded cannon, watched it arc parabolic into a pile of computers.  We dumpster dived for our lunch, pretended to be a freegan for a day, discovered a goldmine of R.A.M., built a computer for $32.58 including tax.  I remember your smile, your radiant body, your soft spoken kisses said between moments.

Creativity comes from imagination; and there really are faeries and pixies splattering on the windshield, because they have no notion of cars.  All they know is that something is killing their loved ones, and they are making horror movies about it, and implanting them into director’s minds, after they give their sons and daughters ten cents for enamel, which they use to barter for gold on ebay.  People are awesome and weird and quirky and loving and hating and living without the knowledge that they are killing faeries and pixies.  I have no notion of this.

Forever 21

These new glasses are too strong of a prescription. I guess it takes some time for a paradigm shift like this to occur, like I have to view a roller coaster through them before they make sense, because right now they hurt, like any other new thing, like love, like first sex, like looking into eyes that hate, yeah, that hurts. I also lost my passport, or rather, it left the country without me. A postcard sized booklet can slip through security much easier than T.N.T., thank heavens. What does T.N.T. stand for? I'll need some to blow up this house if I don't find them soon. The glasses don't help either.

Later,

And there you have it; I thought you were a wave, to wash over me, then dissipate. But you are a wall, reflecting and rebounding all my thoughts and ideas, how stupid they are, how sickeningly imagined; why do I shout at bricks, useless in the limelight save for hiding against. Hide me; I am scared of what will become of me when the light hits the bedroom. Will I panic, run for the door, scream at my nakedness, or just stand up and make breakfast for the two of us? What will happen when you rip my cloak away, to reveal my naked enigmatic side? If I kissed you enough, would you forgive me, or will your blushing pilgrims brush aside, save for the crusade to find, a kindfull heart.

Later,

Well hello there sun, here you come, and blaze, and heat the atmosphere. My night is almost done. Almost time for me to sleep, just check in Southwest, and find that booklet that tells me who I am when I trip on life and forget. The soft spoken word is best received in lieu of anything better to do, or see, or hear. Silence: the music is playing. Cry out. It's good music. Tegan and Sara, Broken Social Scene, Animal Collective,

Whooo!!! The flaming orb of life is upon me, touching tendrils to the windowsills.  Manic.  I applaud.  Ridiculously easy to run the clock round the Big Bend; then again humans were born to run.  When was the last time I witnessed 24 hours at a stretch?: last year Toronto.  I made it as far as Niagra Falls, then fell off the edge.

I should not have leaned into the bend.

Somewhere out there I fell.  Somewhere out there is Atlantis.  And an endless supply of itunes gift cards.  You just have to find it, and live.  

"Hug fierce.  For if you don't, she will never know how much you love her.  Both of you will fall if you don't hold on tighter."

Colloquial Commadrie

It is the living, it is the dreaming, the loving, hugging, breathing.  The imagination life is better than reality most times out of ten.  Thus we read, watch movies, listen to music.  Unleash your inner escapist, throw the key off the bridge.  It will hit the waves and burst into inscrutable mist.  Do soft time on the road.  This is your penance for staying indoors.

The sun wiped beads of sweat off its forehead before dipping below the horizon.  The sweat drops fell to earth and transformed into beach fires, where people gathered to talk, swear and "dig dig dig" into the coals with their eyes.  In the real world this isn't "Ocean Avenue", but it is now.  If you can, once in a life, walk on the beach at night, into the wavery moonlight waves.  It is easy to live the moment then, so easy.  This scene reminds me of a Van Gogh painting, "starry night", the not-so-famous one, the one with boats, and a line of singular lights.

Eros and Psyche would love a night like this.  I can see them now on the beach; they turn towards; they kiss sweetly.  The only thing marring, are noble expectations, the eternal glare from L.A., life and reality itself.  Disillusionment sets in, remedied only by a hug something fierce.

It is the recognition and knowledge of life that I wake up to every day, and the color green, but only on the good sweet days, where the cut up watermelon is cold in the fridge, for breakfast. Damn. I'm still in the starting gate of life, just realized, or re-realized; I forgot the first time. I keep forgetting.  I have learned first-hand, the magic of canines.  Oh-my-god you're so cute!