Here’s to my favorite runaway thoughts of his.
“I want to walk in the howling wind till it scatters all my thoughts. Sit all alone on that riverbank till I forget that I can talk.
“I’m blessed with a heart that doesn’t stop. My mind is a weather vane, it spins around just like a top”
“It’s lonely at the top of that upside down mountain. Watch the sunrise from a windowless room. If the paramedics stop the soul goes on without them, In a wicker basket tied to a balloon”
“There are no boundaries to love
The heart can’t comprehend the panorama...
...There is no dignity in love
Trade every scrap to get some absolution.
Till then I’m walking out the door
Till then I’m running through the airport
Till then I’m waiting round for no one.”
“Now the band shell got a band sounds like an arcade in Japan. Blew all my quarters trying to get that feeling back”
Now I’ve been trying to figure out why I should bother shopping my new collection around to agents and publishers. I don’t need the money, I know the epiphanies, I know the jokes, I love the one liners.
Then I listen to music like this and I thank Conor for releasing it. He already knew the songs, he smiled when he wrote them, it felt progressive, it felt like running, and if you’re running you would like to believe there is a finish line.
But there isn’t.
If there was, what of your legs afterward.
What of your brain after-words.
You can hear it in his voice, he can’t lie, he is paralyzed in these timeless struggles of wonder. And that sounds like what I want to write, what I want to read, what I want to think. Or just a commiserating comrade.
So I suppose I need to release the book for other commiserating comrades, even if there is just one out there, it’s worth it.
I owe it to a pool of thought I frequent, and the life savers of empathy that keep me afloat.
"I drift away, it’s night at Lake Unknown. I’m floating, I see it all for what it is.
Most anything can be forgiven
With what is left we’ll have to live
With what is left we’ll have to live"