Listening to the Grateful Dead

Listening to the Grateful Dead
Originally uploaded by all at once.

Pinning it down
is like trying to take the cat
to the vet.

I am not even sure what "it" is.

All I know is that it started on a fall day so crisp, reality had edges. A walk through the woods that day proved cinematic. I would later describe it as if I were in an outake from "Miller's Crossing." I am not sure if that made any sense.

I am not sure if "it" makes any sense.

I think it is safe to stay away from those for whom "it" makes the most sense.

The peak of it happened on a night when the edges of life seemed dull. Some kid from Cornell was out on a walk with his girlfriend and brought you back out of your gourd on you own addiction to despair. He didn't know what to do with you, so he tackled you and prevented you from diving off the bridge. Your girlfriend and I were just talking about how much we hated you. You'd think we'd be happy.

We put you to bed,
hit the bottle,
talked.

Then she kissed me.

It was a sloppy, drunken kiss and it tastes of the same despair that was dragging "it" down for everyone. "It" was dying, dying.

It was dead by the time I went home. Alone.

Thank God.