Sometimes I remember the Austin sunlight and the dizzier sawdust auras and quickly warming beers. I remember never blaming anyone for anything, never being particularly perturbed by sadness or duty, never needing America to straighten her shit out... I remember the dirty jeans of not needing to wait for love and the freedom offered by believing in a post-world world; too painfully beautiful to bother chasing surreal butterflies.
Sophomore year boots with Trey's vomit. Grass in my beard and blood on my shorts: so elegant in waste. Standing slanted waiting for the sprinklers glide to return, laying on the trampoline squinting for a heaven we'd laugh at again and again. There's no violence in the darkness- only peace and impartial memory, only the weeds and bluebonnets, only pictures of dead guitars and rusty fences, only the universal unstressed pilot's seat, only little boys pointing at their parents in the stands.
I can't believe all these songs are unafraid to be about our every lifespan. So many people to be, so many nominal happy hours to buzz about or mourn. Is there strength enough to really lift life to the level of living?
Maybe 'almost' is why we still have 'glad'. Maybe 'wish' is responsible for 'sad'.
Maybe it's just the Wednesday desk or workday riot.
That's it. I'm gonna pet this cat and head out front.
Shout out to one of my favorite blogs SPACEROCKMOUNTAIN. They're all about these bastards.