Little known fact about me: I play a mean air guitar.
My burgeoning talent generally goes unrecognized–I only play for the most choosiest of audiences.
On Thursday, the spirit came upon me. And I played–like a man possessed.
Played with an outpouring of passion, like an avalanche running down a mountain–like an outburst flood, the crashing, pouring, scouring and lifting of a billion pounds of frigid water–an alpine lake descending at 100 mph, it’s rocky levies having given way.
I played Destroyer. I played Blitzen Trapper. I played Deer Tick. I played The Tallest Man on Earth. My chords gave voice to the music, the life, the rich vitality that courses through the veins of every man (and woman!) who stands atop 11,000 feet of bedrock and plays to an audience of precipitous stony escarpments–and sun, and snow, and pikas, damn little else.
Cast myself towards infinity.
Trust me, I had my reasons. …
Blessed doctor, do your worst.
Cut me open, remove this thirst. …
“All good things must come to an end.
The bad ones just go on forever.”
Isn’t that what I just said?
It is Now and it is Never.
It’s not the lyrics that are important–it’s the audience. This audience:
|From 2009.07.31 Wind River Pictures|
Which is to say, I spent five days in the Winds with my parents, brother, and Chester (my Dad’s English Setter). Fantastic time. Sun, snow, alpine lakes and flowers. View the full album:
|2009.07.31 Wind River Pictures|