Monday, October 23, 2006

drinky drinky makes you stinky stinky

Sorry that it's been a while since I've posted. I know all 4 of my readers are woefully upset. But I'm back!

The last 2ish weeks as been strange.

Here's why:

I can't figure out if I should be writing more
or less

and that's that.

Remember the robot angel that I hung outside my window?
It was just a robot drawn on a piece of lined legal paper.
It lasted through rain, snow, wind.
And then, just as the leaves all around this neighborhood are falling, the robot too fell. Hung out on the window sill for a few days and then, just kind of floated away.

Here's a rough little thing:

Let's consider, for instance, the death of trees.
Or just of the leaves.
Survival requires suffocation. The days turn cold. The sun scarce. And the ornamentation of the trees, once a channel for nourishment, become burdens. Chlorophyll drains from the veins and the reds, oranges, and yellows that had before been cloaked by green are now a show for postcards and tourists. In the last hours of significance they are on display and then they are let go.
Or do the jump? Do the leaves, with the knowledge that winter can be an angry neighbor, surrender and choose to fall? To become a compost for a new green. To wait to be recycled in the spring. Do the leaves choose to be mutilated an mangled by the worms that rustle the dirt and the nearly frozen earth? And do the trees mourn them? Their sacrificed children. Or do they simply concede that these leaves have made room for new faces, new blossoms, and new leaves? Do the trees resign themselves to dreams of the future of seasons and all of the possibilities of spring? And do they hesitate the letting go in that moment when the wind blows cold and the sun hides behind months of overcast skies?

Usually, this is where I add a link to a nifty song, but my computer is being wonky today. So I shall direct you to a myspace page for a band called "Best Actress"

Click on "Touch the Ground"

and dance around your bedroom in your stocking feet using a comb or hairbrush as your microphone.

Bup bup butta bah

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