Believe it or not the bulk of this was written October 21st, 2010 by 11:23 PM.
There is a heaven in other people. There are few things more sublime than a stupid grin, a drink in hand, and a loud cheering song borne from sober recollections, drunken all the while. The room is wheeling as the song comes back and forth; the scratching sound of aural overload, someone riffle-shuffling a pack of playing cards as people talk in a register you can feel but not parse. The purest love for my fellow man comes in the swirling depth of these human moments of celebration.
This is a kind of music. It becomes poetry when passed into memory, but in the moment it is melodies and harmonies of happenings. A good vibe—for what is music but a good vibe—is an action in the living moment.
This music is—I don’t enjoy it piping into my head like tightly packed ear-tobacco meant to smolder all day. It’s gotta take me somewhere; the highs and lows of the hero’s journey through the garden of madness, or a mythic summerland that I imagine where there exists a damp shore, a long river, and an eternal sunset that slips into a long night only to awaken to another twilight, in endless succession.
“I try to imagine a careless life
a scenic world were the sunsets are all
breath-taking.”
In many ways, this is all I have wanted for years and years now.