Grape Expectations

Oh Rearry.... Alabama lets one build their own six pack of desire. With great grape expectations I chose the Blue (blueberry)ale.  My pal Claude went with the Samurai. That's Exacarry what a ninja needs to drink. 

The Music That I Want...

Is Cheaper Than Therapy. 

Mr. Sam Beam is better known for his stage name, Iron & Wine.  The name Iron & Wine is taken from a dietary supplement named "Beef Iron & Wine" that he found in a general store while shooting a film.  The sheer sound of his voice puts my spirit at ease, and I often seek the company of Iron&Wine to combat sleepless nights. 


I share my love for Iron&Wine with an old co-worker of mine, Davina. "He makes me want to grab an easel and paint some crazy things" as she describes it.  Though our appreciation for him is comparable, for me, he appeases those brain waves that like to keep me awake at all hours of the night.


Those same brain waves, that like to keep me up most nights, also love the loop button. Often they choose to play  "The Sea and The Rhythm" over and over by Mr. Beam.


Opening my eyes yesterday morning, and realizing the date, it dawned on me that my main man Mr. Beam released a new album!  It had been four years since this lyrical genius had put out any new material. 


Yesterday felt like a holiday in my musical world.  It was like an old friend re-appeared after being on a four year hiatus.  And, I was not disappointed of his new perspective on this crazy world, while he was away those four years.


Davina and I shared our elation over text messages yesterday, and both decided number seven is the best track on the album.  So I'm going to pay it forward and share this gem with all of you!

My Bohemia

And so off I went, fists thrust in the torn pockets
Of a coat held together by no more than it's name.
O Muse, how I served you beneath the blue;
And oh what dreams of dazzling love I dreamed!

My only pair of pants had a huge hole.
-like some dreaming Thom Thumb, I sowed
Rhyme with each step. My inn was the Big Dipper.
-My stars rustled in the sky.

Roadside on warm September nights
I listened as drops of dew fell
On my forehead like fortifying wine;

And there, surrounded by streaming shadows, I rhymed
Aloud, and as if they were lyres, plucked the laces
Of my wounded shoes, one foot beneath my heart.

- Arthur Rimbaud

Droid Life.

"Excuse me while I kiss the sky"- Hendrix.

 

 

Re: No Subject

"You'll never see my face again," I said. And I actually meant it. This time.

We had been discussing my idea of moving for a few weeks, but that night, as I tried to draw comfort from him, he pushed me away. In my studio apartment, there was no place to go. Isolated, I felt more alone with him being there. Privacy from my own isolation - how ironic. It was assaulting me in my own apartment. Unable to indulge myself... Am I leaving him? Am I leaving this apartment? How will I get there? To Florida? But I love Denver.  Do I really want to leave? Am I ready? I missed my family, though I knew this would mean saying goodbye to him once and for all. But it's the logical thing to do.  I'm logical, right?

Heading to the bathroom to be alone with my handful of reasons to relocate my life, I couldn't help but see the poetic justice in my final goodbye that Thursday morning at 5:00 am. Surfacing hours after my departure into the bathroom, with the realization...this is my apartment, who are you to lay in my comfortable bed in your peaceful slumber, as I tried to find comfort on the tiles of a bathroom floor with a book in my hand.  Bed time is over:

"Ya' gotta go" I said, as I ferociously flipped on the lamp.

 His fits of rage pierced my apartment as I stood next to the door. I let the feeling of this will never happen again saturate my body.  Holding my breath while focusing on those soothing words, I deprived him of his declarations of warfare. There was no need.  The battle was already over.

Delivering him to his own sleep haven, I sat motionless, as the car door slammed in those closing moments. Watching him climb the stairs to his apartment, I knew this was our ending to a once sort of fairy tale. You'll never feel this way again, I reassured myself and my feeble car doors. Making my way back to my now serene apartment, I embraced my angst about future plans with the lights on.

Ripping the posters off the wall, and moving the boxes out into the hall, I allowed my own words to fuel me. "You'll never see my face again."

His reply of "this better be the last time" has been contradicted by his recent texts: "I love and miss you, and I want to see you... and you don't even care to respond.".

Though he didn't realize I had actually moved my life halfway across the United States, I did mean it this time.