EVERYBODY HERE WANTS YOU

There is a rock.

There is a rock, and on this rock I will build your monument. I will carve your eyes in thousands on that marble so you may see all that I see: the thundering lake of clouds and the busses puttering along like steam ships docking on your port - the mountain is your port, my love. The roads are the rivers rushing down the valleys far below from where I stand.

I see a bus coming now. Inside, an old man is fumbling for his camera to capture what his eyes will not remember once he's back in the city. To him, the pebbles are grey pearls; the boulders, teeth of dinosaurs long dead; the falls, a bank of emeralds and an occassional ruby. He cannot click fast enough to capture the stillness of the imagery to the screen. I hear his heart breaking, and I hear his yielding sigh. I hear his thoughts: he wonders what good he could have done to be granted the privilege of seeing all this, and from such a high throne on earth.

I wonder with him. Beloved, you can see everything from here! Everything! This is where the sun resides. This is where sons are offered, where daughters are sent. This is where we all are born, and this is where we all must go when we die: to walk the red oxide soil here; to speak to each other, peaks apart; to meet on its bridges. It is the scaly back of an animal, this heaving mountain. I turn my eyes upward and I see a great dragon of a cloud; and to my right is another, coiled around two peaks. I see the world below me and I cannot fathom the weight of what I have reached.

The red azaleas will grow at the foot of your monument. They will guide your thousand looks - they are the eyes of this mountain. When I finish, I will walk to the edge of this peak. I will take in as much of the wind as I can so I may last longer airborne after I leap into the open sky. The white, piercing sun will glisten on my back. This is how I will follow you to where you have gone. I am king of the earth in my ascent, and the world unfolds at my behest, below me. I would have wed you here. It is here that our son would have been born.

Oceans

Ocean liner 17 SS Bittersweet you're running So fast on the 7 seas it's against my principles to want any Kind of treaty and kind of tenderness or any kind of Handshake or a wave goodbye when you're so fast on your feet So if you stay but with... more

Previous blog entries:
Oct 13	-	Thorns
Dec 24	-	A letter to myself on a Thursday morning, 24th of December, year 2009.
Nov 5	-	A letter to myself on a Friday morning, 6th of November, year 2009.

Little Brother

I was coming home from a gig on the 25th of September when I noticed how large the swell was on the creek near my house. I realized that I hadn’t seen it rise like that in years and asked myself, “How long has it been raining?” The next morning I... more

Previous reviews:
Oct 26	-	Signos
Jul 9	-	To Ms. Acepcion [Senior Consultant - JobStreet Select]:
Mar 28	-	Drama Queen

moroccan chicken adobo daw, eh

todo-ly spiced and marinated

Previous recipes:
Apr 19	-	Spicy Cheese Mac
Dec 22	-	White Chicken Pasta
Dec 22	-	Fresh Tomato Pasta

2009 A_0001.wmv

This is to remind myself that I had a/an *insert all adjectives known to man here* year.

And this is to honor the people who have been generous enough to allow me the grace and the privilege of having known them in such a/an *insert all... more

Previous videos:
Jul 5	-	Tori Amos - Your Cloud
Jul 5	-	Tori Amos - Sweet Sangria - Live !
Jul 3	-	Broken Social Scene - Lover's Spit