http://youtu.be/HEluoeMLTCI

Music to make sense by, maybe.

The room was humming harder
as the ceiling flew away

I loved all your words and that image is perfect. Thank you.

Thanks Zanelle.

... borrowing moonbeams ... and ...
reading borrowed words ...
this is what holds me first ...
tonight ...
this ... and the most enormous ache ...

"...though closer, he had never felt further away..."
That's so sad, and so true.
I love your illustration - so striking!

he wrote to say though closer,
he had never felt further away.
It was as if he'd lost track, somehow.
Ended up here unexpectedly.

We act our parts,
borrow moonbeams to read borrowed words.
The spotlit actor bows, and dances up the aisle. Lights go out.

Hoping the moonbeams are always there to read by, and the mirror will always reflect the alternate side of the earth.

I like the music, and the ambiguity you left at the end. Where did he go? Which road did he take? One of life's great mysteries.

liked this,not sure why,but i did......
R

I remember this...the vintage art by SCJ (right?)

Thanks god for the moon, soaking up our hearts when they break, when they fly, when the song ends.

Struggling with a comment. Beautiful...sad? The illustration is wonderful. The words...contemplative. Indeed the world is a stage and we are all players.

Moody. Dreamlike. Prufrocky. Words and painting work well together. A sense of wistful magic in the air.

I don't understand this at all and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Maybe it's because you haven't posted anything in over a month and I forgot how you write in that crazy incomprehensible way that makes me scrunch up my eyes til they water while my skull pulses in and out.

Isn't LaPaz in Bolivia? How do you wind up in Bolivia "unexpectedly"? Oops! I meant to go to Poughkeepsie but here I am in South America instead.

I did a report on Bolivia in the fourth grade. I was really upset that I didn't get a better country like Brazil or Uruguay but there I was, stuck with impoverished Bolivia because I waited so long to make up my mind. The women wear those little bowler hats that look too small for their heads and that's the only thing I remember about Bolivia.

So why are you writing about Bolivians and their hats? And what is a "light fandango" - as opposed to a "heavy fandango"? (In Australia I think it's known as a "fandingo", btw.)

All I want to know is one thing: did the guy ever take off his tie?

I'm still figuring it out, but I like it.

My heart's racing a little. Thanks for that, Kim.

...feeling kinda' seasick...and a whiter shade of pale.

Not the lights, no, not the lights....rage, rage...

...feeling kinda' seasick...and a whiter shade of pale.

Not the lights, no, not the lights....rage, rage...

Sometimes when so little makes sense, we turn to music ... and poetry ... and the most exquisite art ...

Once I wanted to live within this room. Perhaps I always will ...

From the very first time I ever saw this ... as you were in the process of creating it ... your work reached out and drew me in. You allowed us to follow you ... as you continued on.

From the very first ... it called to me ... and that has never stopped.
I doubt it ever will.

For now ... even as I hear his words ...
I want to stand beside her ... in the moonlight ...
holding on to words ... holding on ... to hope ...
a moon upon a city ... a moon upon a sea ...
a window open ... light reflected ...

“She read the poem by moonlight, with all her heart, and danced.”
For now ... I want to be right here ...
 

[r] absolutely love this. our hero so not a grounded guy, but clearly lovable, ask the woman pining, eh? he'd love her if only he could love himself. best, libby

and now once more ... the most enormous ache ...
perhaps the ache of so wanting to hope ...
so wanting the song to never end ...
the lights to never go out ...
to always find the moonbeams ...
to always read ... words that hold ... our hearts ...
to always read them ... to the moon ...

Interesting song.

The wind in my heart
The wind in my heart
The dust in my head
The dust in my head

anna1liese I think the most enormous ache is when something once loved, dare-I-say taken for granted even, disappears, forever.

ccdarling, thank you.

See you in the mirror, Rita.

Hey, Phyllis.

Thanks, Steel Breeze. I like your voice too.

catch-22 no, not SCJ ~ me, I'm flattered. Thanks god too for the moon.

Hi Ande. It's a curly ball, this. I bring it out each year, around now.

Thanks, Chicken Maaan.

Hi Margaret. Either I write too much or I don't write enough, isn't it.
You're from Columbus, aren't you. I got an assignment on New Zealand ~ what can you say about New Zealand ? They have kiwis ... then what ? They have lots of sheep ~ who doesn't ?
I chose Bolivia to annoy you.
I don't know what you're talking about ~ tie ? What tie ?

Hi scanner. Sorry I haven't been more around. You know how it is. Great to see you mister, & thanks.

Mine too. Thanks Emily.

Just Thinking : imagine when the lights went out, halfway down the aisle ...
Sorry if I seemed rude, at Jake's. It sure wasn't you.

anna1liese, I made this room up, from fragments & scraps, & that's how the post began, from memory, with a date looming large. All I can say is I think it's important we salvage bits & try to make something longer-lasting, hopefully beautiful too, from the pieces.

Hi libby. You just said more than you know with that ~ he'd love her if only he could love himself ~ second thoughts, I'm sure you know that too ...
& thanks.

m, drive them away,
.... drive them away ...

"imagine when the lights went out, halfway down the aisle ..."

I walked down the aisle alone at my first wedding, kept looking up to the groom who never once looked back at me the entire lonely, people staring, walk.
The lights did kind of go out right then. Still one of the most heartbreaking moments of my entire life even to think about it.

Different aisle maybe, different lights maybe, no skipping the light fandango or tripping the lights fantastic even, but I can imagine.

"There would be consequences - always there are consequences.
He tilted his glass and the ice tinkled. Tried to weigh which way.
" I do this," he thought, " And I'm home."
Knowing it was wrong. Knowing it would cost lives."

This rings familiar as well, although the context may be completely different.
My first thought when reading was (as far as home fires burning kind of home, not success at anyone's cost kind of home -- although those two can blend mercilessly): 'sometimes a sense of home can be worth turning the entire world upside down for'...

And sorry if I seemed rude at Jake's too. Grumpy at all the falling apart, certainly not your doing either.

Hi, Just Thinking,
Interesting where our minds go, reading another's words ...
Those images are poignant and entirely appropriate to what I'd been thinking ~ the aloneness, even between two people so close.

And yes, what we might do, to make it "home." You added another dimension to the page, thank you.

Not quite sure why I wanted to come back just now to this. I feel so terribly sad. A world of sad ... I think ... Keep being in too many places ... times ... with people I couldn’t any longer find ... and so terribly terribly ... flat ... alone ... impotent ...

am caught now by “...closer” but “had never felt so far away.”
Not a place I want to be ... yet maybe why I’ve come back here. I don’t want to see the mirror he sees ... cold glassy ...
no ... please no ...

Even in the trembling ... even in the fear ... the questioning ... the wondering ... I want to be near her mirror ... watching the curtains blowing in the breeze ... reading the poem sent to her ... to the moon above ... dancing ... in its light ...

I remember once before wishing ... that the cover here could be filled with only your work ... one piece of yours. I so wish that this cover ... this weekend ... could be filled with only this ... if i were editor ...
how many would open the door ... and simply stay ... entranced ... drawn within ...

My need alone ... perhaps ... but what a wish ... a powerful wish ... how many thoughts ... would come ... from your art ... your poetry ... that take us ... lift us ... as almost nothing else ever can ...

“... borrow moonbeams to read borrowed words.” ... before and until ... the light ... goes out ...

“ ... something longer-lasting, hopefully beautiful ...”
oh yes ... I think ... oh yes ...

May we always find a moonbeam here ... and may this be a light ... that never ... goes out ... for it is a light we so desperately need ...
I'm so glad ... you brought this piece back ... just when you did ...
I only wish that so many more might have found their way through all the fog ... I only wish ...
perhaps just know how the moonbeam here ...
always has ... helped me ...

I wonder what the fears are. It's all murky now, the sliding from the moon into think, into drink, wanting to float atop and creep over the glass, into a heart, her open window, but sliding back to the deep and beyond. Brilliant art. What magic lurks therein.

I adore the picture and I hate coming to the party late, but I also love the whole idea of the moonlight. I too have danced and read by moonlight. This leaves me with a feeling I can't quite describe though...which is a good thing, by the way. The key being it leaves me with a feeling.

anna1liese ~ thank you.

Sliding is the fear maybe, scupper. Nothing to hold on to.

Puddle Duck I'm glad, thanks.

I love this so very much. I think of you often, more than I want to admit. And this tells me why, over and over.

well there ya go kim. rita thinks of u.
she should.
this is good shit:
"We act our parts,

borrow moonbeams to read borrowed words.

The spotlit actor bows, and dances up the aisle. Lights go out.