reminded of years or summers past sometimes with the thought of what hasn’t even arrived in our lives; if you swim this summer in the lakes of all tears and walk the woods of all warmth, remember what has passed or never has and watch all stillness conquer you as if i was cardboard and you were cardboard.
the best album of all time is also the most sad one.. out now world wide and especially internet wide..
ever since then the skies fell’d down and breathed your name while the dogs in the economic chinese sang a song for all the nights we missed a goodnight to each other and the clouds in their soft grey ways move like the tundra of my mind for you, baby… well… of course.. uh, see it with someone you love!
i was at once filled with this feeling that things had become what i’d always wanted them to be - as small or large as they were to the outside dimensions that made me the smallest they ever could. contentment, dreams, instance were all contained outside as well. she just sort of would lie awake in the deadening silence outside and that made even more sense to me. when i stepped outside after she had left me standing at the doorstep she arrived at, i lost my mind. again and again and again.
there is this time. and instead of becoming anything else other than time or beauty you think back to the time by just letting that time remain so perfect in your mind and how good the memory or the fantasy feels. where you don’t have to be just dwelling on time, but where you are the dwelling. where time doesn’t just stop but where it actually exists. in thousands of charged moments that come back at you. its those reminders. its where the side of time lives with us. where circles never become circles. where i will always love you and always will.
another sad summer for this sad old dunngleberry. so sad that one did not even need to leave his boring foothills of foot fetishville for there is only one pair of feet he will ever love more than any..
his brave new song is available here for those many of you patiently waiting:
never mix anything with whiskey except schweppes ginger ale if you absolutely have to, and only in the summer months.
halifax is a town where you climb a lot of hills mostly drunkenly to get locals to buy you eight dollar beers and scrounge for serenity among those looking for bad music - it was nice to hear this lovely woman’s voice quietly grace the hall of massive ceilings and play to audience of misguided youths but one can only ask this drab bastard what he can possibly do next when he is so completely fucked that the sun only shines blackness upon him anymore.
i wish there was something i could do… I want to buy a small house in the wine fields I visited in the summer months and lie with the love of my life in the fields or on the beautiful shores of north beach and listen to her play cello as the sun sets and get drunk on near perfect wine into the darkness and near perfect solitude and quietude of the evening… watch each others eyes slowly close while gazing deeply into them… make the finest portabello mushroom breakfast sandwich in the world for her.. cook salmon on the beach for dinner… be lost in the nearby woods together..
you can’t imagine there will be a time as real or true to your soul or innermost feelings when such depth and true love is felt for someone.. everyday is a sad one, every moment feels as if it is lacking a higher truth or meaning, waking is becoming near impossible, extreme pains eating odd parts of my body away, all that can be done is nothing, and you know how absolutely impossible that can be.