December 25, 2013 § Leave a comment
“Gimme shelter, show me heart.” – Ben Howard-Only Love
Show me love. It came easy today, all of it, just easy, all day. I just moved through it, smiling and laughing and falling in love with every moment. I could feel it so thick in the air at times it felt like I was swimming. Is this how normal people feel when they wake up in the morning? Those in high rise flats and estates and traffic jams and tube trains? Is this normal? I’m not sure I’ll ever know. But I know this, to experience something everyday is to see that feeling fade but not I feel with this. I could feel that a thousand mornings and not see that lenses flair dip into anything less. I could feel that feeling roll around and swim in my blood each afternoon with a permanent smile spread wide across my face so bold and part of me that people would not recognise me without it. I could lay my head to rest each night safe in the knowledge that I could lie there and just feel it, just be, and know that to sleep was to wake up to it again.
As it seems to be for everyone at this time of year I spent time with some younger family members. The sort of age where Christmas is actually pure gold dust. For them it’s the pinnacle of all living. It’s everything. One moment stuck in my brain. Even while it was happening I could feel the effect it was taking on me. A younger family member, around 7 or 8, wanted to show me his new slinky toy, at which point he took me to a staircase in his house. He told me that his record for consecutive steps that he had got his slinky to go down was four. Only four. But, despite this record, he took that toy to the top of that 12 stair staircase. As mild and unremarkable event this would be to almost anyone else I couldn’t help but notice it. To stop and stair at it. Despite the restrictions of his own personal best, he simply had to go to the top. Just in case. Because to start anywhere else would be to limit his potential achievement, and that’s something he was just not willing to do. We should all be so hopeful.
December 10, 2013 § Leave a comment
“Sounds so soulful, don’t you agree?” Jay Z – Otis
There’s grace in the moment. Take note to find it, enjoy it. Just as you start to slip under those bright lights, just as the faces start to twist and pull and become part of the same blur as the depth perception slip and turn everything back to two dimensions. While the air stays thick and heavy with the movement and the bass. It’s slipping and going now. It’s all become one under those bright lights. It all sits up and takes the attention. There’s no hiding any more because you’re removed, you are no more there than a person who sees what you are seeing on a canvas in a museum. It’s just a slideshow. It’s just a peep show. It’s just paint on canvas in a dark and rarely used room in the brain. Dusty, unkempt, an old projector plays the still onto the derelict wall and you stand and you see how it all twists together and yet you are unable to distinguish the noise from the sound from the people and the lights.
Then the morning comes. The sun crack through the dirty window and moth eaten curtains in the dusty brain room. You find yourself stood back amongst it in the sharp and piercing light of day. And it’s the same picture. But someone burnt a whole diagonally through the middle. All of a sudden it’s just dim light and twisted carbon paper. It’s on the floor and all around. You come to the conclusion that you did this. You took something complex, with many dimensions and much depth, you drank it flat, too it to dark room and burned it.
December 9, 2013 § Leave a comment
“They want you to whistle while you work your life away.” Kevin Devine.
To an extent I was there. To an extent. I felt the upper most, wide blood vessel of the whole operation. That is to say, I was there. That is to smile and laugh and sing. That is to be a present vessel in the whole operation, I was there. I found the internet and smiled and watch as Al Pacino’s eyes danced while those Solomon train tracks thundered. Then he whistled and he drew for what he knew. He didn’t want to come out of that toilet with just his dick in his hands. Bang. One down and pull to the left. One in the throat makes two. Napkin’s won’t save you. A second finds the forehead. It’s all eye contact and spilt table cloths. A whistle while I grab my coat, drop the pistol and head for the exit. Blood in Louis Italian American Restaurant. It’s all I wish I was. x