Wednesday, April 16, 2008

I got music

Last Call. The barman rings his bell, the eighties cover band continues on to the end of the set, day is done and gone the sun, into the mysterious creeps and creaks of the world at night. The soothing lullaby of the house settling into the hillside, the strains of raucous laughter wafting up from fraternity row, the shatter of glass in the alleyway, reckless and joyful peals of humanity unquiet.
The chorus of tom cats rehearsing for the ritualistic wooing of the feline under the full moon. Neighbors fighting, or the television of the neighbors giving voice to an argument they can not pronounce, years of small talk building a wall of inanities that now shuts in the silence of all that was intended to be said. I love you. You burnt the pot roast. You are my sunshine. I lost my job. You are the light of my life. I've been arrested on drug charges.

The ambulance siren screaming past. Somewhere, a child cries out. The monster was almost to his toes. A radiator knocks.

Hear the call of the poker game, the change given ring of the register, the seductive plays of the insomniac concert violinist.

The earth creaks on its axis, the weight of a world that cannot be calmed propelling it onward through the deaf vacuum of space.

       A tree falls.

       One hand claps.

       The blind man sees.

       The deaf man hears.

There is evil. There is injustice. There is pain. There is death. There is misery. There is hunger.
This is the BBC News, reporting to you live from the playing fields of Eton.

The crackling of the wireless and the stutter of the shortwave radio sharing the sounds of the remote corners of the world with the neighbors, the enemies, the great aunts, the restless teens, the soldier the sailor the tinker the tailor

The alarm goes off: the urgent uncompromising harsh call of the electronic urban rooster.

Day has come.



reading little of note
weather replenishing the depleted vitamin D reserves