She was afraid of driving fast through the night because of how much of could enter her car. Like ashen hands covering over her heart. An arctic breeze in this suddenly midwestern landscape. She screams ecstatic joy at the rising and falling cadence of musical notes. Planned intervals and crazy discipline. They casually talked of tours inside the mediterrean grill where I got myself a beer and committed to making a video of myself playing drums in the next week. Clever conceptual art on the walls. The whole area surrounding the venue pervaded a communal artistic pride. I heard a jazz band playing live through booths of bead necklaces and art of the statuesque gods we ignore... they played Chameleon and I hummed it alone in line with no heart in conversation...
She couldn't hear so well out of one ear. Half of a buzz kill. Some determined following. Some scented princess named immediate regret. A smile to stop bullets from firing. Or freeze frame and drop like disintegrating bodies in an atomic blast, there is no memory left of them.
I have entered the void of abstract, intangible wires.. they connect somehow in my wearied, troubled mind. There is some thread running throughout but I am not a quilt. Burn through the hand woven remembrances. They are not living things like the people who made them. Why people believe in crazy things you wouldn't believe!
