Monday, July 2, 2007

Augury. Hip. Burn.

#1: Augury

In the middle of the night, when the moon begins to wane, turning its face from the chaos it has created, unabashedly looking elsewhere for trouble, you suddenly wake, sit up and say, something amazing is about to happen, lie back down and fall asleep.

The dreams give you two moves.

You do not forget them in the morning.


#2: Hip

You walk in to your studio and it's your old friends, the Originals in tight black jeans, taking too many varieties, it's in your blood, ooh darlin' let me in...that's what greets you, and through the window the caress of the gentle winter sun kisses your desk and the upturned teddy bear with the underpants that is your mascot looks at you, winks, and you wink back and there's laughter dancing on the suppressed eddies of a changing current. Hip.

Oh yes.
So Hip.

That's the first thing to go apparently, in old age.
The hips.

I'm looking forward to that.


#3: Burn

The Engine is alight, and you with your charcoaled face and quixotic ambitions can just reach out your hand and see the fires and flames, the whole damn explosion, the whole damn thing fit nicely within it, dancing blue, gold, red, rust and light. Your Universe. Your writing. Your eyes which frame the scene. It's all yours, if you want it. One smile, one flash, one dream, one yes, one moment and the differences come back, but this time you lay them out, the gilded robes of today's adventure.


It's that fucking easy.