The Story of Stuff

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gLBE5QAYXp8

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn..." -Jack Kerouac

"If I thought that I was replying to someone who would ever return to the world, this flame would cease to flicker. But since no one ever returns from these depths alive, if what I've heard is true, I will answer you without fear of infamy."

and then there's those days when the tune of a song plays with your being. your heart. like strings. and it's nothing you can explain later. it's like a glimpse of golden hair wisping in the wind through a car window. or a small laugh on the other block. or how her hair always sticks to the wet on her lip. or how i can only write while i drive; shifting and penciling my thoughts all at once.

and this all fell down
the sweet slippery strain of love
it squeezes its way into my head
like the smell of the river, cool and mineral
or the feeling of wild asparagus flitting through my fingertips
the reflection of yesterday
golden light on one side of her face
and night falls
a crisp night when saturn nestles into the moon and sings
and it's clear like you've never seen it before