Nude, June 1, 1999
Track Listing: Electricity, 2. Savoir Fare, 3. Can’t Get Enough, 4. Everything Will Flow, 5. Down, 6. She’s in Fashion, 7. Asbestos, 8. Head Music, 9. Elephant Man, 10. Hi-Fi, 11. Indian Strings, 12. He’s Gone, 13. Crack in the Union Jack
While neighbors wake in sync with the first beaming rays of the morning sun, my day struggles to rise and shine. Daybreak cannot brighten the darkened hollows of a solitary man. Thus, an idyllic life together is imagined, far from trepidation.
“See the blue suburban dream
Under the jet plane sky
Sleep away and dream a dream
Life is just a lullaby”
-from “Everything Will Flow”
Withdrawn from fear of rejection, we are emancipated. Conversations last for hours, as each of us explores the verbosity of silent thought. Throughout invention, happiness engulfs our being in an uncontrollable torrent like wildfires scorching the beauty of California’s coastal hills, and the mind rescues our union from the burn of reality. Escaping temporarily, I stumble out of bed to regard what truly kindles outside.
“Hey, you draw the blinds and
Blow your mind away”
The same scenery as yesterday scalds with neither a trace of smoke nor you. I recoil from the window, reminded that change most easily declares itself in imagination, where contemplation purges consciousness.
Breakfast begets lunch begets dinner, and the single constant over a day is that every meal greets isolation. Look around: Empty chairs stack in proximity. At the kitchen table. In the living room. At a movie theatre or in the car. If only one of us had the fortitude to invite the other to sit for a while. . . .
You continue with your doings, your friends and interests. How closely does your introspection mirror my own from sunrise to sunset?
An attraction keeps us in sporadic communication. In periodic flirtation. The hope to cast a dynamic future excites our words, laughter and subtlest expression. Something surely exists beyond the ordinary.
“Oh, it’s bigger than you + me
We got love between us,
and it’s like electricity”
The longer an articulation of deeper feelings is delayed, the less likely the chance for a revolutionized tomorrow. Status quo strives to hold steady forever; precious moments needlessly fall into ruin. In the interim, at least dreams foster emotion and the silliest notions play in melody, which makes saying what should be said magnificently possible.
“And it feels like the words to a song”
-from “He’s Gone”
I am not alone.