Legacy.

"I promise you not a moment will be lost as long as I have heart & voice to speak & we will walk again together with a thousand others & a thousand more & on & on until there is no one among us who does not know the truth: there is no future without love."

[andnot just that romantic kind, either.]

on being joyful&content.

I am a minimalist when it comes to running. [Please note, I said running, not writing.]
Not the actual running part, but just the "gear" that is brought along with me. Apart from my trusty sneakers, old teeshirts, &swishy shorts, I am a lean, mean...uhhh, well, you know the rest. Sometimes my wrist carries a watch, but as of late, it has not. Summer evenings are good for jogs with no deadlines, nothing to race home to, &only the slowly sinking skyline to remind you that dinner should be ready soon. &ever since I made the jump to no ipod, my runs have become more feather-finding, less oblivious to dirt packed under my soles. I scrawled a page in my journal one morning, after a particularly freeing frollick through the hills of Santa Barbara, &it was simply this:
running brings joy.
that`s it. because on that day, those few hours spent exploring&thinking&praying&singing&living, my heart beat not blood, but joy through my veins.
I have tried many a time to mimick that run, &all the things that came along with it, but of course, joy runs come when least expected. Today was a day like any other. I awoke &attended church &did other sunday things, &then, like those old Nike commercials, I "just did it." I laced up my grey nb`s with my special socks from dad, &I was off! [not streaking, mind you, I just didnot mention the rest of my clothing...] It was hot today, &I have a talent for sweating in even mid seventies weather. &I don`t mean the cute "glisten" type sweat; I mean soaking wet sweat. Now you know. On my way past the Presbyterian Church, I spied a feather, &I knew that it was a joy-run-sort-of-day.
&my heart has been indecisive, &unsettled &restless these "passing sunrises &sunsets," but today,
today was a day like no other.
Hallelujah, Jesus.

a smothering poem breathes in a breath of prose.

i think that perhaps, what if, oh, nevermind.

You dance as eloquently as you speak, I said, but it is time now for you to go under the hill.
Thank you for the waltz &teaching me the two-step.

Happy Camper

"What if we all got along &people loved each other &sang songs about peace? he said. Would that be a good world? &I said I didn`t know about that, but it would be a good summer camp &he looked at me &shook his head &said; it`s no wonder you`re leaving us with such a mess."

if you have the time...

Try a Little Tenderness,
by Alex V. Cook, Music Editor

"I find that tenderness often goes underestimated in this world. We try to channel our wolf nature to accomplish things, believing that its our howl and gnash that get business done in this world, but truly, it is the meek that inherit the earth. Wolves , without fail square off against each other and while the melee has its fireworks and sexiness, you end up with 1 or 2 dead wolves. The real power is wielded by those that keep it in check, their resolve quiet but unflinching, requiring no sense of combat or bombast to accomplish a goal. They aren`t fighting the thunderstorms, they are talking to he wind, and in the long run, they will get a better return on investment. It`s this quiet resolve that attracts me to spooky delicate acoustic music. Its parts are immediately recognizable, its structure ofter pared down to the minimum , making every element crucial. And I`m not talking Belle and Sebastian mellow here, I`m talking the spook folk of Will Oldham and Current 93 and Ben Chasny and now a new couple of forest dwellers Mi and L`au. She (Mi, Finnish) and and he (L`au, French) met in Paris where she worked as a model, he a soundtrack musician, did the bohemian flat-hopping thing and then bolstered by the warmth of their love made off to a cabin in the frozen woods of Finland, and their music reflects this spares essentiality. The music supporting their small voices consists of carefully picked guitar and the occasional mandolin. They trade off vocals, with Mi`s whisper and L`au`s clipped delivery making you listen closer, as if a ghost is telling you a secret.

The opening track "They Marry" picks and ticks like a clock, detailing the cycle of lover between lovers, with a feathery dizzying merry-go-round twinkle and swoon supporting it, while a later song actually title "Merry Go Round" sounds as if the contraption of the opening number has been drugged and is slowly winding itself into hibernation. It`s heavenly stuff, the slow orbits it creates. It`s in the sparser tracks like "Philosopher" however, where the real magic lies. The gentle acoustic guitar and light harmonies are akin to watching a candle flicker. "I`ve Been watching You" with its slow Nick Drake fingerpicked development shows the group to have a sinister side amongst all this sylvan filigree. "Burns" which highlights Mi`s voice the best, offers a solution for all those soft voiced women who are looking to sound powerful but end up sounding cutesy. Her vocal style is almost like a bamboo flute, simple but direct, cutting though the various ambiance that has been attached to the recording. "Older" languidly rolls out like a Quaalude sunset, while the string laden "A Word in Your Belly" has the deep grandeur of a John Adams or Arvo Part string piece, no doubt coming from L`au`s experience scoring for films. The way slight rain drops or something like that sound like they are falling on the strings themselves is just sublime.

This album is rife with twists and turns, toy pianos and zithers and who knows what else crop up here and there, but it`s in the voice and the palpable connection between the two that centers this most gentle and elegant of records. It reminds me of the earlier Damon and Naomi albums or maybe Dome (I think that`s what it was called, one of those lesser known Mute groups that only resurfaced in compilation albums) but with a decided hermetic cast about it. Like This Mortal Coil and Dead Can Dance with none of the bombast and twice the embers. Like the moon reflected off a frozen lank. Like a tree swaying in the wind. Like two people in love. It is sweet deep stuff that yields ever unfolding rewards as you spend time with it.
That is the power of tenderness."

jubilee.

I found a favourite commercial! I believe it is an advertisement for Sprint.
&also, this:

closer to my age.

I like that when two people enjoy one another, nay, love eachother, perhaps even more than themselves, they wed.
I truly do.
I also like that with a forehead covered in salty sweat and hands pricked by grass clippings, I could not love my father more.

Critics, beware! Dare to stand up & shout, "hooray!"

Yes, sir, you have let me down.
&i do not understand the sincerity in your ambiguity of shadows & silhouetted promises.
Your words of charm vapourized like the steam above my mug of tea.
I find it fitting to confess that it was my fault in part:
&even though it has been thundering&lightning&raining, [all at once!?]
Look! The forgiveness that has drenched my bones,
Has dampened your feet too.


Happy Birthday, friend.