i have a million things

i have a million things to say, but i am mute. sitting in my room listening to the new Sigur Ros record which i believe after the first few listens, is the most beautiful collection of songs that i have ever heard in my life.

all things i write of

all things i write of become so small in the wake of the world. immeasurably large mountains of water, crashing through the land. george w. bush has finally done it. the world is his for the moment. his to destroy if he wishes. his to thrust into the great sadness of human tragedy. oh george, please be kind and filled with love. i am frightened. frightened of his all encompassing power and his lack of compassion and wisdom. his nonexistent clarity of truth. today i will go to work. a lonely man coasting his path along the earth. swallowing the wonder of trees. water and sky. i think of the people i love and the hearts that suffer. i am not ready for this george. i cannot watch the world crumble and fall upon broken knees. ribs torn out through skin. my life has much further to go, and i am too sad at the moment to let this be the end. we are all too sad george. or too happy. or too poor or too rich or too aliveor too young or too old. i beg of you, find peace within, so that we may carry on lighting the fires of joy. there are too many things left undone. incomplete. it has been too long since i've seen kristina. too long since i've laughed with my mother and father. too long george. too long. i am not alone.

thursday night, a moment before

thursday night, a moment before the turning of clock. here i sit. ron and i tinkered with things for i am not in spain, but found only silences. like the quiet in my room at the moment. the world seemed to grow dark earlier today, and i was bundled in sweater and hat. when there is absence, there is silence. and great loudness, but nothing inbetween. the screaming of throats punched and dry. unlike eyes. i will read and sleep. i am tired. tired in so many ways. but i have stickers to place on 250 discs tomorrow. i do not look forward to that. it is a great pain in the ass, especially when the little applicator tool that i use doesn't work with these labels. it involves laying the sticker upside down on my lap and placing the disc just so. fuck. yes, i am running still, but my fuel has expired. it is but fumes my love, fumes. i am a continent. a large boat on the sea.

rocks you've collected

the tide is low and you are free to wander amongst the sea creatures. crabs scurry into their clandestine hiding places and you giggle. the laugh of a young boy. arms and pockets full of rocks you've collected. someday, your house will be a mess of stone. completely overwrought with pieces of the earth. the skies are grey and filled with the weight of fog. it is perfectly cold. you walk about trying to gather the torn and tattered pieces of your life to no avail. you build rock sculptures for an hour or so, and think of the last time you did that. missing. you are sad. you remember the last time you were here. two young children, your best friend, and you. you cry. sad. lonely. depressed. missing.

sometimes, your morning doesn't work.

sometimes, your morning doesn't work. the happenings in the book you are reading are quite depressing. you go for a ride through the hills, but your blood sugar drops and you ride home slowly, feeling defeated. you are so fucking tired of doing the booking, calling the radio stations, writing the press, emailing other bands, printing the labels, etc., that you throw arms to the air. wouldn't it be grand if you had help? someone else made those dreaded calls for three hours several days a week. someone else walked to the post office and mailed off the packages. someone else spent their friday night putting stickers on discs. and why oh why oh why oh why oh why won't people book above the orange trees? i am confounded beyond my wildest imaginations. so you shower and move on through the day. the sun is out again, and it is hot. you wish you could go sit at the beach, and watch the waves curl in upon the shore. but joy is in you nonetheless, and you will let it breathe. breathe. breathe.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez and i

Gabriel Garcia Marquez and i have become close friends. We spend our mornings and nights and some afternoons together. my world has turned in on itself, and once again become a tangled mess of tattered hearts and sorrowed eyes. Answerless sighs ringing through the warm october air. last night it was so beautiful that i felt compelled to sit outside somewhere. anywhere. gabriel and i went to the pub and he told stories. he steals me away into his magical world, and i think less about mine. about how i'm finding it more and more difficult these days to carry on with music. how hiding my guitars away in closet doesn't sound as terrible as it used to. i need love from the universe. a miracle. a gypsy named melquiades to sweep me away with his magic. up with the leaves as they change color. through the endless sky. blue.

"Wandering properties of death. Arresting

"Wandering properties of death. Arresting moons within our eyes and smiles we did rest amongst the granite tombs to catch our breath. Worldly sounds of endless warring were for just a moment silent stars. Worldly boundaries of dying. Were for just a moment never ours, all was new. Just as the black horizon's blue."

oh Rufus.
oh.

today she grows older. just

today she grows older. just like all days. still breathing and moving. squinting from the light of the sun. ignoring the fumes of large trucks as they lumber by. a magnifying glass upon the world, showing the wings and torn legs of even the smallest of the insects. a warm bed in the morning, cold at night. a dizzying sky of blue to remind that as we grow older, it and all other things remain. a wild horse, charging through an open field. crest of dust swelling up behind it's powerful hips and thighs and hooves and magic. but today is the birthday of a brilliant woman, so today must be a great day i think. that's how the universe works doesn't it? i am a goddess of joy whose wings may grow dark from time to time. i am sleeping peacefully. i lie awake and pray. i want the sun on my skin as fall is here and she wil leave soon. tea coats my throat. a dove in my belly. it is october now. again.