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fourtheenth, mar sighing hoarse sighs, sleep-dry eyes, i walked downtown to see explosions in the sky and despite the beautiful sounds lapping against my ears in waves, i still had all this space to think, as if within the viscous noise i had found a hiding place where the dead quiet before a storm waited for me. thinking, ah god, i got caught up thinking. why are people recording this experience on their cell phones - aren't they missing it! fooling around with the tiny buttons, come on, it's right in front of you and you're watching it through a digital screen! this shit's like flowers blooming in the spring and shriveling up in the winter and you think you can hold on to that? your grip that tight, yeah? no, you'll just crunch the dry petals to dust. the secret to where the beauty lies is in its passing. i wish i could erase it all. i wish i could erase all your talking, all your looking, all you. no offense - i'd erase myself too, just to be the sound alone, no distractions, not even the weight of my own body. and fuck man i think people would say i was the crazy one. this worries me somewhat: already out of touch with this young generation and i'm still apart of it. but while the bass guitarist looked like he was mopping the floor with his instrument this chain of white-haired old ladies holding each others hands passed me in the dark and by god that put me at peace right then and there. |