of lavarocks and antiname

22 December 2009 § 1 Comment

The solstice has passed, but I have not. There was no sitting on a beach in Clam Gulch, watching the sun dip just below the horizon over the Alaska Peninsula – the fireworks were hired to play that night, and no one was disappointed – and there was no standing gloriously atop some mountain ascended by chairlift in the early afternoon darkness, waiting for the sun to touch the landscape so I could race it down, falling below the light before it had a chance to retract itself. The joke was not funny anymore, but I laughed to myself anyway. Failure was key, because the white torches were bound to flare up, or so I thought, and my dependence was disaster. Never count on the light. Never mention neversummer, everwinter faded into highlights – in memory of them, in memoriam.

Elements expose themselves daily, and still we are enamoured of them – to remind ourselves what we do not take for granted. Familiarity is a vast wasteland into which we cannot venture, but instinctive loyalty is required. Ambivalence reigns over kings and queens and those opposed will suffer the defeat of resolve, of confidence. The unicorn remembers your face, and will not forget that wistful tune we sang to lure it in, and she will not return to that place again, lest she loses herself in its beauty and is tricked by the jestering explorer.

If I could EQ the sound of fear, I would take away the high end and make it sound less like a snake’s whisper. I’d give it the tone of the music you close your eyes to, no matter where you are, and I’d amplify it into the valleys you’ve made your homes, and the earth would take care of the effects, the reverb tail and the compression into something tangible, understandable and self-explaining, because I magnify it and show it for what it is, and like that old man said, mystery is where truth exists. So cover in dust the instruction booklets and open up the maps – you’ll see where they lie in waiting, in anticipation of your arrival. The rooftop was just the beginning, your thought process the route we’ll take – just print it on the back of my hand and we’ll be forever ready.


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§ One Response to of lavarocks and antiname

  • Katie Bird says:

    I haven’t spent a winters solstice in Alaska in a long time either, it’s a magical thing to be so far north the sun stops showing up. I’m glad you haven’t passed, that would indeed be a shame.

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