Sunday, 25 February 2007


Turn your head from the microphone, sacred mumbler. Rattle and hiss like rolling the dice at the back of your throat and then tilt back and yell a yell so huge it might just gather rain and flood us all with a deluge of your innocence. "I'm dizzy from all this spinning..."

The opportunity arose and finally I said yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Last night - an acoustic evening with Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds. Bought my ticket a few hours before the show - 10 rows from the front, smack in the middle, a direct line of vision to watch the man squirm with the rhythm of so many apparations.

"Grave digger...when you dig my grave...could you make it that I can feel the rain."

He sang Crash and then it all went violet for Where are You Going. More than two hours went past and it was a dream.

It's all a dream I tell you. Spending all those hours perched against immortality like wedging the car against a hill in San Francisco and just walking away, leaving the whole scene to fate.

I believe in everything. It's written in the sand; the sky took a photo before the sea washed the proof of us away. Always and forever.


your new best friend said...

were you high?

your new best friend said...

hey! my logon finally worked! i want to join you on the 26 mile walk, or norway...pack me in your bag please.

Anonymous said...

I wish I was high. And I can't go in the marathon now because it's full up. I'm really disappointed but I'm getting over it.