and hear his glorious voice, sing

every three months or so a certain someone from past calls me up and while i not without some guilt dance around the subject of emotional investment, i find myself spinning the same record for the next couple of days in, mmm, not exactly his memory, but the memory of every troubled dharma bum from the deep south that ever existed. the record is 'prayer of death', by entrance. at its best it reminds me of watching the sunset from a mountaintop overlooking lake austin as lights in the opposite hills quietly flickered on like fireflies. leaning my head against yours, talking about nothing at all, feeling something wild in the wind enter through my face and into somewhere deeper than my bones. i wonder what my fellow angelenos think of me when, windows rolled down, i fly down the highway with my speakers avowing, "i want to die without no fear".



p.s. today is the anniversary of something whose meaning for me has been an incredible work in progress.