Nobody's creekbed

songs, prayers, poetry, stories, art, photographs, moving pictures, fondnesses, tall-tales and meditations

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The Anterior Insula and Hwy W

Thursday, October 07, 2010

Elvis Presley, Insanity, and Glen Campbell
5th Anniversary Party for Justin Stone's creekbed

The creekbed is five years old.

It has not been all of the writing, nor has it been great writing, but it has been writing. It has been a thing. You have to understand that, despite the tired template, this was never a blog. It has been meant a repository. A small museum. Private cavern library. Tiny, bright shots in the dark. Embers.

A fifth anniversary party was held at Dead Shirt's semi-infamous Swimmy Lounge. We were grateful for those that showed up. 'Twas a small, warm-heart'd gathering. Lights were shone, butts pinched. People told tall tales and hearty laughs were had by all. The laugh, you know, is the holiest thing. And we have sought to laugh, even when the jokes were not funny. And let us be honest -- they were not always funny. But gosh be danged if there weren't some good, real laughs, some ecstatic hilarity.

The candles were blown across the room.

Here's to it. Here's to song. Here's to key changes. Here's to the quiet parts, and to swelling crescendos. Here's to circles coming complete. Here's to windblown qualities. Here's to pictures of you at a thousand meters. Here's to being up on bricks in the yard. Here's to every day as a beginning. Here's to the highly sensate. Here's to the b-roll footage. Here's to letter. Here's to breaking up, and to gathering in transit. Here's to cats perched in tree houses. Here's to the dog in his sighing bed. Here's to my beloved father's new knee, to the always getting by, big-eye'd and smile'd. Here's to grace. Here's to a mother's endurance. Here's to amorphous qualities. Here's to wishing. Here's to the morning, the night deep, and to every in between. Here's to diddly squat. Here's to tired cousins. Here's to making oneself laugh. Holy things. Here's to any two meeting again. Here's to long looks. Here's to falling quiet. Here's to listening. Here's to many founded colonies on distant shores, countless thousand years. Here's to being there when. Here's to home.

Here's to life.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for sticking around.