late night reading

Music: Susanna and the Magical Orchestra: Melody Mountain (2006)

Given over to the dramatic and peering from a wishing window on the opposite wall my everyday, red-and-black cynicism (the panes face north, "a place of darkness"), a drink or two to help me see out to the land of what-ifs---and one drink shy of losing my balance---I thought I was Leonard Cohen for five minutes and fourty-six seconds. To write a song like "Hallelujah," walking between sublimity and sentimentality but not giving over to either, must feel like an accomplishment, like there is a God, especially and if only in the details (simple chords, a disjunction, a harmonic). And there are details---just a few to follow the edge of ecstasy in a kitchen somewhere, cut hair on the floor, a Platonic psalm.

I wish I was a musician. I think I understand that world's windows better than all the other walls. Editing, proofing, is a scourge on creation. Writing within the limit fucking sucks. But it pays the bills. Why did you go, Mark Hollis? Wither the joy of quietude, here in the maxed out flash flash flash of dicks and pussies? I think I'm done for the day.

I wish I was a poet.

No, no I don't.