Its my fourth plane in 1 and a 1/2 days. My clothes are still damp from the last sprint to catch the 1pm flight from London-Heathrow to Norway. As I disrupt the lull of the settled passengers with my stubbled face, curly medusa hair, heavy breathing, 6ft presence; I imagine the thoughts behind their feeble attempts at feigning a blank gaze, "Oh God please dont let the monster sit next to me".
Because the moment is forever. The moment is forever and money is like the ocean tide it comes and goes... Because it means that much, because he needs a rep from the West Coast friends he coveted most dearly dearly to be present...
Because its been too long, since I've toasted to some dear loved ones utter joy and because its proof that the bonds we believed in yesterday were not/are not flukes and hold a sanctity if for no other reason than they shaped us...
Because I heard Norwedigan girls are...um... intelligent and hold good conversation... and whats better than that? Because running from plane to train and letting my eyes take snapshots of different landscapes and terrain is not as taxing as running form job to job and boxing my artistic ambitions into a 3 hour studio slot where I have no choice in creating magic that evening...
Because there are islands for me to lose myself in and water I havent bathed in. Where for 15 minutes of thrashing in their depths and coolness I can hope that when I emerge into the sun for another deep breathe; mom, dad, Dean, and Layla will be there with a cracked watermelon and our old bathing suites just simply existing together...
Because I met a Chillean who is traveling and spreading the ancient wisdom of Kabala, and a Yale graduate who likes poetry and hip hop. Because I talked music and sound with the young man who ran the audio shop at JFK and heard our new single "Hate on Me" on the Dre headphones. Because I almost lost my external hardrive with over 80 unreleased songs on a changeover in NY and was so happy I found it that I had a mini celebration with the NY cleaning crew, gave them all my second album, signed some autographs on my postcard, remembered why New York and I are sewn together like a long lost twin, and then I left for London...
Because I needed time, alone. Because the moment is forever.
Because I miss the feeling of dulling pencils, and draining ink. Because on this plane there is nothing else to do, no activity to turn to and hide in, only that which brews inside of me. Because I need to turn commas into periods and here I can waltz through my memories comfortably in the same fashion I visit a museum of pricleess art on a weekday during working hours.
Because I have stories to live and stories to tell...
Because memories are the band aids of lifes sorrow and often times the sniper that opens the wounds of our dimentia. Memories are made of the same magical fairy dust that sprinkels our dreams and at once the glass house that imprisons us. Memories are the circus, an enchanted place to visit, but poisonous when looked to often, and like the iron chain on the elephants mighty leg that binds us to our past. Because of her, the ex her, the ex ex her, and the ex ex ex her. Because of every single little thing and because the moment is forever...
Because there's still time to stop this wedding and I need to be here when the minister asks, "Does anyone see a reason why these two should not be joined on this day in holy matrimony", I can make sure no one dare raise a hand.
I wouldn't make the trip for just anybody. In fact there are few people for whom I would travel half way around the world-- simply to be present at their wedding. The trip is not cheap and its toll on my body comes at a heavy price. I started at 9am in Orange County, caught the 12 noon from LAX TO JFK in New York, counted the minutes as the flight delayed some 2 hours to leave at midnight and land at 12:35pm in Heathrow. From there, I needed to be on a 1pm plane and I still had to print my boarding pass. This prompted a 500 yard dash through security, ticketing, and 20 gates until I reached my wholly unsatisfied cubible of a seat, where I regularly turned to the gentleman on my left and the lady on my right to say, "oh, sorry...ah, sorry...ooh, sorry". All of this beckons us to revisit the nature of my friendship once more and ask, Why?..
Even with my current aroma mix of Funkology Volume 4 (I wish I was talking about the music). the answer is easy...
Even with my current aroma mix of Funkology Volume 4 (I wish I was talking about the music). the answer is easy...
Because its been too long, since I've toasted to some dear loved ones utter joy and because its proof that the bonds we believed in yesterday were not/are not flukes and hold a sanctity if for no other reason than they shaped us...
Because I heard Norwedigan girls are...um... intelligent and hold good conversation... and whats better than that? Because running from plane to train and letting my eyes take snapshots of different landscapes and terrain is not as taxing as running form job to job and boxing my artistic ambitions into a 3 hour studio slot where I have no choice in creating magic that evening...
Because there are islands for me to lose myself in and water I havent bathed in. Where for 15 minutes of thrashing in their depths and coolness I can hope that when I emerge into the sun for another deep breathe; mom, dad, Dean, and Layla will be there with a cracked watermelon and our old bathing suites just simply existing together...
Because I met a Chillean who is traveling and spreading the ancient wisdom of Kabala, and a Yale graduate who likes poetry and hip hop. Because I talked music and sound with the young man who ran the audio shop at JFK and heard our new single "Hate on Me" on the Dre headphones. Because I almost lost my external hardrive with over 80 unreleased songs on a changeover in NY and was so happy I found it that I had a mini celebration with the NY cleaning crew, gave them all my second album, signed some autographs on my postcard, remembered why New York and I are sewn together like a long lost twin, and then I left for London...
Because I needed time, alone. Because the moment is forever.
Because I miss the feeling of dulling pencils, and draining ink. Because on this plane there is nothing else to do, no activity to turn to and hide in, only that which brews inside of me. Because I need to turn commas into periods and here I can waltz through my memories comfortably in the same fashion I visit a museum of pricleess art on a weekday during working hours.
Because I have stories to live and stories to tell...
Because memories are the band aids of lifes sorrow and often times the sniper that opens the wounds of our dimentia. Memories are made of the same magical fairy dust that sprinkels our dreams and at once the glass house that imprisons us. Memories are the circus, an enchanted place to visit, but poisonous when looked to often, and like the iron chain on the elephants mighty leg that binds us to our past. Because of her, the ex her, the ex ex her, and the ex ex ex her. Because of every single little thing and because the moment is forever...
Because there's still time to stop this wedding and I need to be here when the minister asks, "Does anyone see a reason why these two should not be joined on this day in holy matrimony", I can make sure no one dare raise a hand.
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