Over-saturation. Slightly blurred imagery. Happy accidents laced with feelings of nostalgia. A whole "don't think, just shoot" theme has poured itself all over my today. It has felt like the outsider's view would be fixed on one big photo from a lomography camera; Like what is to our left. I could just slip into this photograph today and not have to change a thing. "We ♥ It" took my insides and my outsides, and fitted them into some indecipherable (by me, anyway) algorithm that stuck someone-else's bookmark on my page, clothing my eyes with image-to-mood perfection: the aforementioned photo, placed over there.
I feel like I have been la-dee-da'ing since I crawled out of bed. Humming about, reeking of some sort of wonderfulness. The smile simply a natural accompaniment to the evocations. Maybe I should have been carrying a big, yellow balloon.
Smiles, it seems, are free today. They have been flaunting themselves all over town. And now on this page. I guess they always are: All day; All night...if you want them. If you feel like taking some in, or handing some out. Even the mentally-unstable dude stomping angrily down Barton Springs Rd., waving a gigantic Texas flag, cracked one when eye contact was made.
Sometimes you can't help it.
After a night of collecting dreams and hours of good sleep, I awoke with one brewing. After a healthy brushing and a little face scrubbing, I released it to the world...or the man with the hard hat eating his sandwich on the back of his truck; however, I got my first one handed to me today at the Farmer's Market on 4th. (oh how I love that I live somewhere with a splendid FM, abundant w fresh vegetables, homemade tamales, flowers, music and jovial people) It happened somewhere around the first 'greens' stand next to the old dude with the ridiculously good organic goat's milk cheese. I was fondling some chard when a bold bunch popped out from its all-green siblings. I picked up the thick, leafy, emerald bunch that was bursting from magenta and blood-orange stems. It was magnificent. The closer I looked I could see further hints of these colors in the veins and ribs. "Splendid!" I thought, w the words staining my face with their meaning. The woman behind the table was elated as I gushed over them and their earthy, almost-peppery smell. We exchanged recipes. Smiles. $2 bucks and a bag; And let the instant-high continue as we went our separate ways.
You see, there is something inherently addictive about smiles. Something so satisfying when you pass them on and watch them take effect. Or when someone, seemingly out of nowhere, bestows one upon you. Even the act of putting one on fills up your insides with this magical, invisible substance that brings an instant glow to your being. Try it. Not now, but right now.
It's nice, right?
Spending time in colder climates can leave some faces, well, stone-cold. Getting a North Easterner to smirk sometimes is like pulling teeth. And if you can get one to muster it up, it often will be served to you with a side of bewilderment.
It's a shame really. I find the change as you move towards the warmth to be one that is refreshing...recharging. It makes you feel lighter, languid. It opens your eyes so much wider to your environment. Maybe it is just the lack of layers and the lack of weight from all of all the weather complaints. No matter what, I will take the latter over Mr and Mrs Grumpalots.
So yes, as suggested by some homefolk, maybe the hippie in me is coming out through the boombox sitting atop my body; blasting out dialogue about life's little joys and hinting towards peace and love and togetherness. So what. It is definitely trying to wax on about paying it forward in what is/has been a perpetual peak into Summer. My smiles are boasting about how good it feels to finally shed New England November-Jan. This voice, or these words rather, are dripping with glee...and have been as I wiggled excitedly on top of my barely dressed legs, taking myself through the tiny chapters of today that led me to here.
Next stop: Shangri-la.
I blame my excess of happiness on things other than the big bag ol' smiles....like... on an overdose of vitamin D. I blame it on my new freckles and my milky-mocha hue from the warm hug of the sun. I blame it on the beauty of the town lake that lays alongside grassy hills at the bottom of my street. Hills that provide a cushion for me to sink into after a long run, or when I don't feel like reading at home or at my local caffeine dealer.
I might even blame a little of it on a blue-eyed beauty's promise to treat me to her homemade raw chocolate and maca, that will get me "giggly high." Chocolate that I think may kick the sweet ass of the the raw fudge I had from Daily Juice. Think about a cylindric tin, pleasure- packed jar with two large organic pecans decorating dark, salty, sweet raw chocolate. No milk. No bullshit. No Lake Blue #4. PURE chocolate love... w a little coconut and carob. (The key ingredient to luscious, mouth-watering, unforgettable chocolaty treats is salt. Note this. Trust me.)
I blame all this cascading happiness on modern technology super-connecting me to all of my loved ones in what seems like an instant, turning any homesickness into vapor. Ping! Gone. As another message comes at me. It's as if you (my brother in this case) is having lunch with me, but I am accidentally kicking the table's leg instead of his, as I stretch and fold them underneath me; because even when alone, I am still quite fidgety.
I blame it on the echo of Chris Rock as Chaka Luther King in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back.: "Do you think "Fat Albert" had an inker? No, Bill Cosby did the whole thing with a roller and it was EXCELLENT. " For the love of something good, watch this move. Please, it's hilarious.
This abundance of joy is definitely being influenced by M. Ward's "Hold Time" that is laying its earthy-tones and tales of sylvan charms and whipped-up heavy sounds, across the wood slabs that hold me, my patio chair and these words I drip slowly through my fingertips. The tone fits Austin today: slow-moving, almost crawling; cloudy; Olive and gray with sudden, unexpected bursts of light in various shades of yellow, peach and orange. You're not sure if you want to be up or down so you just hang amongst the pleasantries of the middle.
The wind seems to be speaking a lot over the music being carried away by it. It is saying too much. Too fast. Remixing my soundtrack. Today's is string-laden w hints of percussion. The vocals are soft and needy; It is elegant. The A-sharps and C-chords, simple. It's light and heavy. Like Neapolitan ice cream. Yeah, it makes the kids smile. And me, yes. Indeed it infects me with a smile. But the wind keeps trying to remix it. It is pulling it away and I can't quite hold onto its words as it whizzes by me; blowing my hair in my face; Taking my song to the arms of another. Wait- let me get that strand of hair out of my eye.
I continue on: breathing...thinking...typing...smiling. Listening to my music loudly. Louder so the wind can't win. Enjoying this little shangri-la behind the place where the caravan has landed. With this runt of a muppet-dog next to me, Hunee. Well, she is more like attached to me: downward-dogging against my calf. Begging me to scratch her neck.
This life, my life, has been given an added boost this winter. A mushroom to the head making my capacity to hold the old and the new so much more vast. It's given me something to go on about. And by "on," I mean babble about in this here blog. Babbling is a temporary cure for my currently insistent writer's block. In addition, all of this new plugging-in has been bumping up the gigs on my music library. Which, in turn, gives me more to share with you besides stacks of nouns and verbs and adjectives.
So let me share with you, since it is all about just that today. I posted bits below for you to take in where ever you like. Day, or night. If you like them, please, buy the entire album. Give something back to the one who filled your time with sonic-joy. It's kind of like the smiles, accept these you pass on by listening.
I feel like I have been la-dee-da'ing since I crawled out of bed. Humming about, reeking of some sort of wonderfulness. The smile simply a natural accompaniment to the evocations. Maybe I should have been carrying a big, yellow balloon.
Smiles, it seems, are free today. They have been flaunting themselves all over town. And now on this page. I guess they always are: All day; All night...if you want them. If you feel like taking some in, or handing some out. Even the mentally-unstable dude stomping angrily down Barton Springs Rd., waving a gigantic Texas flag, cracked one when eye contact was made.
Sometimes you can't help it.
After a night of collecting dreams and hours of good sleep, I awoke with one brewing. After a healthy brushing and a little face scrubbing, I released it to the world...or the man with the hard hat eating his sandwich on the back of his truck; however, I got my first one handed to me today at the Farmer's Market on 4th. (oh how I love that I live somewhere with a splendid FM, abundant w fresh vegetables, homemade tamales, flowers, music and jovial people) It happened somewhere around the first 'greens' stand next to the old dude with the ridiculously good organic goat's milk cheese. I was fondling some chard when a bold bunch popped out from its all-green siblings. I picked up the thick, leafy, emerald bunch that was bursting from magenta and blood-orange stems. It was magnificent. The closer I looked I could see further hints of these colors in the veins and ribs. "Splendid!" I thought, w the words staining my face with their meaning. The woman behind the table was elated as I gushed over them and their earthy, almost-peppery smell. We exchanged recipes. Smiles. $2 bucks and a bag; And let the instant-high continue as we went our separate ways.
You see, there is something inherently addictive about smiles. Something so satisfying when you pass them on and watch them take effect. Or when someone, seemingly out of nowhere, bestows one upon you. Even the act of putting one on fills up your insides with this magical, invisible substance that brings an instant glow to your being. Try it. Not now, but right now.
It's nice, right?
Spending time in colder climates can leave some faces, well, stone-cold. Getting a North Easterner to smirk sometimes is like pulling teeth. And if you can get one to muster it up, it often will be served to you with a side of bewilderment.
It's a shame really. I find the change as you move towards the warmth to be one that is refreshing...recharging. It makes you feel lighter, languid. It opens your eyes so much wider to your environment. Maybe it is just the lack of layers and the lack of weight from all of all the weather complaints. No matter what, I will take the latter over Mr and Mrs Grumpalots.
So yes, as suggested by some homefolk, maybe the hippie in me is coming out through the boombox sitting atop my body; blasting out dialogue about life's little joys and hinting towards peace and love and togetherness. So what. It is definitely trying to wax on about paying it forward in what is/has been a perpetual peak into Summer. My smiles are boasting about how good it feels to finally shed New England November-Jan. This voice, or these words rather, are dripping with glee...and have been as I wiggled excitedly on top of my barely dressed legs, taking myself through the tiny chapters of today that led me to here.
Next stop: Shangri-la.
I blame my excess of happiness on things other than the big bag ol' smiles....like... on an overdose of vitamin D. I blame it on my new freckles and my milky-mocha hue from the warm hug of the sun. I blame it on the beauty of the town lake that lays alongside grassy hills at the bottom of my street. Hills that provide a cushion for me to sink into after a long run, or when I don't feel like reading at home or at my local caffeine dealer.
I might even blame a little of it on a blue-eyed beauty's promise to treat me to her homemade raw chocolate and maca, that will get me "giggly high." Chocolate that I think may kick the sweet ass of the the raw fudge I had from Daily Juice. Think about a cylindric tin, pleasure- packed jar with two large organic pecans decorating dark, salty, sweet raw chocolate. No milk. No bullshit. No Lake Blue #4. PURE chocolate love... w a little coconut and carob. (The key ingredient to luscious, mouth-watering, unforgettable chocolaty treats is salt. Note this. Trust me.)
I blame all this cascading happiness on modern technology super-connecting me to all of my loved ones in what seems like an instant, turning any homesickness into vapor. Ping! Gone. As another message comes at me. It's as if you (my brother in this case) is having lunch with me, but I am accidentally kicking the table's leg instead of his, as I stretch and fold them underneath me; because even when alone, I am still quite fidgety.
I blame it on the echo of Chris Rock as Chaka Luther King in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back.: "Do you think "Fat Albert" had an inker? No, Bill Cosby did the whole thing with a roller and it was EXCELLENT. " For the love of something good, watch this move. Please, it's hilarious.
This abundance of joy is definitely being influenced by M. Ward's "Hold Time" that is laying its earthy-tones and tales of sylvan charms and whipped-up heavy sounds, across the wood slabs that hold me, my patio chair and these words I drip slowly through my fingertips. The tone fits Austin today: slow-moving, almost crawling; cloudy; Olive and gray with sudden, unexpected bursts of light in various shades of yellow, peach and orange. You're not sure if you want to be up or down so you just hang amongst the pleasantries of the middle.
The wind seems to be speaking a lot over the music being carried away by it. It is saying too much. Too fast. Remixing my soundtrack. Today's is string-laden w hints of percussion. The vocals are soft and needy; It is elegant. The A-sharps and C-chords, simple. It's light and heavy. Like Neapolitan ice cream. Yeah, it makes the kids smile. And me, yes. Indeed it infects me with a smile. But the wind keeps trying to remix it. It is pulling it away and I can't quite hold onto its words as it whizzes by me; blowing my hair in my face; Taking my song to the arms of another. Wait- let me get that strand of hair out of my eye.
I continue on: breathing...thinking...typing...smiling. Listening to my music loudly. Louder so the wind can't win. Enjoying this little shangri-la behind the place where the caravan has landed. With this runt of a muppet-dog next to me, Hunee. Well, she is more like attached to me: downward-dogging against my calf. Begging me to scratch her neck.
This life, my life, has been given an added boost this winter. A mushroom to the head making my capacity to hold the old and the new so much more vast. It's given me something to go on about. And by "on," I mean babble about in this here blog. Babbling is a temporary cure for my currently insistent writer's block. In addition, all of this new plugging-in has been bumping up the gigs on my music library. Which, in turn, gives me more to share with you besides stacks of nouns and verbs and adjectives.
So let me share with you, since it is all about just that today. I posted bits below for you to take in where ever you like. Day, or night. If you like them, please, buy the entire album. Give something back to the one who filled your time with sonic-joy. It's kind of like the smiles, accept these you pass on by listening.
M. Ward
Off of Hold Time
Off of Hold Time
Outro :
Shangri-La :
For Beginners :
2 comments:
Caleb enjoyed every word of this. Next time make it longer!
really, every SINGLE word?
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