in the light
I bought the Play-Doh I wanted, finally, but it sat on the table for hours before I got to it. When I did open the tubs, with Led Zeppelin's Physical Graffiti as the soundtrack to the night, I didn't even make anything. I just sniffed them, each color: Salmon, blue, purple, and pink. No doubt they spent hours in their labs making sure each one was just the right shade, and to think about that right now makes me sad. You might assume I'm talking about the dominance of corporate culture. I am. But it's so much more than just that. It's everything.
“Did you ever really need somebody? And really need 'em bad?” I sniffed that Play-Doh long and hard. Contains wheat, it says. Am I smelling wheat? It's a bit like bread being baked I guess, if you added vanilla to it. And maybe raisins? The keyboard solo at the beginning of In The Light is playing and settles the dust: The old structures are covered in rust. “You are never alone,” he says, as I remember all the times when I felt similar to how I do now, only epically more alone. No one can blame us. These chords are huge. Too big to carry when we're out on the town with our friends in our light and fashionable coats, talking the night away. The sea changes here, and much of what is true can't be seen.
This and everything else I've ever written is like a photograph. If I had snapped it a few seconds later it might have looked very different.
I start to weaken, because I've been devouring a tray of brownies to get me through this, and I just can't stop. Until Kashmir comes on, and even as I shovel in one last mouthful beyond capacity, I feel another page turning in my life, brown leaves washed away in cold rain.
~
2017 - 2021