I got in my car and plugged in my ipod. A melancholic tune came on, as it always does, some melody from a deep forgotten cavern belonging to my teenage days. She’s in drive now and I creep along as Dramamine by Modest Mouse plays…Red light, Stop. Im there at the lights and un-expectantly I enter one of those moments where everything outside of me becomes liquid clear, I am seeing the world for what it is - vivid crystal clear otherness. I see a random woman and know she is just like me. I turn my head and see an old man on a bench, he is just like me. I see a dog down the street sniffing a person’s front lawn. They are all just like me. We are all just going through this, this right here, this right now. Beautiful.
The most powerful arch in the universe is the one your back creates while looking over the railing of a bridge – eyes fixed on the flow, pupils perplexed by the rapids – the river running down the valley towards wide-open freedom. Fleshy white tears in the water seem violent and fluid while moving with elegance in a hurry yet making good time, and it is a good time.
I put my hand in the river. I interject my frame into nature and nature curves around me, endorsing my skeleton, welcoming me back home to the flow. I feel at home, I am mostly water after all. So the water makes a path around my fingers in the river, the cold goes around the bones in my hand because the flow is indifferent to my view of the world
I am not old yet but Id like to think that when I am grey I will become aware of the weather because the weather will be in my skin, in my cheeks from having felt so many winters and summers, from having seen so many leaves die and blow away
So the wind swings and sweeps through the hours while weeping babies cry out of confusion at the hand they have been dealt not knowing how new they are and what a precious perspective that is, soft sweet mellow and fragrant, clean and black, the blue marble twirls swiftly with the old fashioned ideas of some dusty skull
My body is covered in a cold soil document that reads death and I am beginning to feel the chill, there is an ach in my arch as the bugs and beetles begin to chew, they chew me up with autonomous vigor. The dirt flows around my bones like the river and carries on with autonomous vigor. So at the end of it all I propose a toast and request kindly that you knit me a tombstone made of love.
This is kinda sorta related but once my mom made me help her clean shrimp before she cooked them and it grossed me out so much that I cannot eat shrimp to this day But I know my mom hates chamomile tea because that is basically every Latina abuela's cure for everything and she always associated it with being sick
Shrimp is the bomb man, you should suck it up and get back on that horse :)
chocolate chip pancakes, with powdered sugar. ihop, year '98. i was 7... & after 4 bites, i threw everything up all over the table. apparently i had the flu & wasn't aware lol... just went to ihop yesterday and got chills from looking at the picture of the choc. pancakes. flashback! scarred for life...
I have never been to an ihop. When I hear about ihop I always think of this bit that Jim gaffigan does. Youtube: Jim gaffigan ihop
There is a war going on between who I am, who I know I am and who I know I should be.
IIII will sit in my room, this is where I am holy, this is where the universe is a hammock and when I lay in it, every fiber vibrates truth into my back and the reverberation passes through my organs and I can…