I stick loneliness
Your lips
And the two coins of your eyes
Into my pockets

5 Years

Prognosis: Feeling worse to feel better. Throat isn't on fire - but joints ache and body is sore. I think I beat this thing already. Usually the throat bothers me the most, so I think by tomorrow I should be on the upswing. Which means I'll get back to writing. Hell yeah.

So what do I have to present to you this morning?

How bout a damn powerful piece about the health of this current generation, not ours, but the one below us.

I won't go into details about the video - I'll let it speak for itself, since it has quite the voice, but I do have two quick thoughts about it.

1.) The kid who wants more hamsters? He's my kinda guy. How could you not want more hamsters if you had five more years to live? This little dude is a realist. I like his style.

2.) Dark matter? Seriously? That kid has so much shit on his nose it's ridiculous. Who at that age knows what dark matter is!? I'm pretty sure I wasn't even interested in girls at that point - with their awkwardly shaped bodies and cooties. Ew.  This kid is deff striving a little to much (Andrew Allen!?). Let's be honest, you're not going to find dark matter in five years.

But seriously, this piece is strong. It moved me. Kind of shocked me.

As it states - we're built to move, so lets get out there and do something about it - if not for us, then for them.

Big Love

It's that lovely time of season when everyone in the office begins to get sick and you can only pray that whatever is going around doesn't make it into your system.

Well, I'm battling. I can feel it. In my throat. Trying to grab hold and grow into something. But, I'm loaded up on cold medicine, robitussin, and vitamins. Hopefully I can nip this in the butt before it turns into a full blown thing.

So why do I bring this up? The blog will be effected. Sorry everyone.

But don't worry, posts will still come in - stories may just be on hold, depending on how I feel at night. I think by the end of the week I'll be on the upswing, so next week will return to normal.

So let's get into today's post.

I was at the store the other day and saw Fleetwood Mac's greatest hits album on sale and of course, had to buy it. I had forgotten how good they are. Specifically Lindsey Buckingham. He's extremely talented and looking back into the history of music, seems to be overlooked.

Point in case - I've had this song on repeat all day:




His style of finger picking is amazing. It sounds like he's playing more than one guitar. Oh right - let's not forget his voice and vocal range. He can go anywhere on the scale, nailing every note. Granted, this isn't actually Fleetwood Mac, but just Lindsey, you should appreciate this song, the band, and him.

Oh how I love stumbling upon a classic.

Lands Of Beauty

There is just something about time lapse videos that mesmerize me. Maybe it's the abundance of time - how you feel each minute as it passes by at hyper speed, never feeling quick, but heavy - even though the images are zooming by, each minute is there, and you know it.

Throw in some good music to groove to while the images are before my eyes? You got me. Hook, line, and sinker. I'm lost in the piece for as long as it runs.

So what is it about these two following videos that reach out to me? Well, this first one, by happenstance, if as if you threw my vacation back in July into fast forward. The whole state of California in under three minutes. It has a little bit of everything - the desert, San Francisco, Yosemite (you should be able to recognize the waterfall from some of my previous photos), and of course, Los Angeles. It really captures the wonder of the state, how we have everything at our fingertips - mountains ranges, deserts, plains, and vast metropolises. Simply, this video just bring a smile to my face - makes me proud of my state and leaves me in awe of its beauty.




Now, this second video caught me off guard. I've never had much interest in Iceland. I had heard it was beautiful - if not a tad bit cold (not as bad as Greenland though), and full of untouched nature. We all got glimpses of it this summer in Ridley Scott's Prometheus, but the following video really opened my eyes to how undamaged Iceland's landscape is. Consider this now on my list of places to go. The lush green grass, towering waterfalls, illuminated night sky, glaciers - it all seems so wonderful - almost too perfect to be real. I know I have many places on my list to go first, but hopefully this will be in my future.

Holding His Breath For Her

Since he was a little boy, it had always been a story he had always heard about, passed along between generations, whispered about late at night, in the shadows between buildings, lost amongst the winding alleyways - a tale a father would tell his son as he tucked him in, persuading him to go to sleep. Long ago, when ships were still powered by the wind, an ancient merchant vessel had come into port, looking to restock on supplies before heading out back into the sea. Rumor had it that on board was one of the most beautiful rings to ever be molded - a massive diamond accented with emeralds and sapphires, encased in the purest of golds. It had traveled between lands - never taking permanent residence on someone's finger - traded back and forth between those fortunate enough to possess it.

The seas on the night the ship had planned to leave port were turbulent, tossing the smaller boats tethered to the docks against the pilings, sending the usually present gulls into hiding, and taking away large swaths of the beach with every crashing wave. Regardless, the captain pressed on - unconcerned with the imposing weather. The ship hadn't made it far when the current pushed it out of the narrow channel and into the reef that surrounded the coast - shattering it's back like a twig, casting its content and crew out into the sea, to be lost amongst the swells. By the time the water had calmed the next morning, no one had washed up to shore and all that remained were splintered pieces of the vessel, strewn about on the depleted beach.

By this time in his life, years later, the boy, now a young man didn't know if the ring truly existed, but everyday the weather allowed, men went out into the bay and dove, searching for the precious jewerly. Hoping, praying, they would find it and alter their lives.

He had stayed down for as long as he could. Until his lungs felt like they were going to collapse, his ear drums burst, and his blood boil. His body had yearned for oxygen. The deeper he dove, the more his body wanted to drag him to the surface, make him take a breath - make him live. Every joint ached. Every muscle cried out - pleading with him to not stay down as long on the next breath.

But they wouldn't need to anymore.

As he broke through the surface, breathing deeply, he knew that it was still in his hand, wrapped up in the center of his first. He didn't want to look at it, reveal to the world that he had found it - knowing that others would come after him, try to pry it from his fingers. Although he didn't hold it up above the water, anyone watching had to know he had found something - whether it be from his wide eyes or the smile spread across his face.

He had seen it nestled in amongst two pieces of coral, covered by a fine layer of sand - but it spoke to him - yelled at him, grabbing his attention. It was the most stunning thing he had every seen.

Growing up, everyone in the community always referred to it as their treasure, as if they had found it already, speaking about it with puffed out chests, proud of their imaginary find. They wanted the attention, the fame - to be known amongst their peers.

But none of that mattered to him, all he wanted to be was known to her. And hopefully, when he gave the ring to her, she'd finally know how much she was worth.

She was his treasure.

Whaddup El Lay

Long night.

I'm posting this from work. Boo.

But anywho - I saw this little piece shot on a new kind of camera that is coming out in the near future and fell in love with it. No only because it is my current home, but because it is just damn beautiful.

Enjoy it and everyone out there, have a great weekend.

Beachside Whispers

It had been his routine for the last couple days. Once school was over and all the other kids had filed out of the school, he'd make his way down to the beach. Never in a hurry, for he knew his friend would be waiting there for him, nestled in amongst the tide pools, sitting patiently for him to arrive. It was by happenstance that they met. The boy had been walking down the beach one day, looking for shells and smooth-edged glass to add to his collection when he accidentally stepped on a shell. He lunged back in a panic, not because of pain or discomfort, but because he swore he had heard a little voice, commanding him to get off.

When he looked down - all he saw was a shell, lying there, depressed down into the sand. After a few moments, small spider-like legs emerged, cautious to the outside world, feeling around in the tiny granules of sand, looking for a solid grip. Next came the antenna. Just two - long and spindly. It only took a moment before the legs had propped the shell up and turned - revealing a tiny little face with two beady little eyes, perched upon stilts staring up at him.

Thats how they met. That's how their friendship began.

The boy wasn't exactly sure how they managed it, but he believed with all certainty that it was real. He could hear the crab that was tucked away in the shell before him and it could understand his words. Growing up, his elders had always spoken of the bond between humans and the animal kingdom. How humans needed to protect those creatures around them since Mother Nature and her children was always looking out for them. It was a cyclical relationship and he was learning about it first hand.

At first it was small talk. Where he came from? The sea. Did he have a family? Yes, a long time ago, under the control of another tide. Why was he here? It really wasn't up to him but rather wherever the current took him. He was old - he had seen most of the world throughout his years - epic naval battles, great reefs grow from the tiniest of spores, the nets dragged behind oil spewing boats decimating the balance of the oceans.

But now that he had found this spot on the beach, he wasn't sure if he wanted to leave. He was content in amongst the tide pools. His own little paradise. Self sustaining and protected. For the last week or so, the boy had come down every evening with a new book and taught him of the dry world. How those that lived on the land breathed, ate, slept, grew. The boy read him hymns and poetry - all of the best verses put to paper. He'd just sit there, curled in his shell, staring back up - listening, eyes never wavering from the boy. Absorbing it all. He had so much to learn of this place above the waves. The boy kept reading.

Then one day, without warning, his friend was gone. The boy searched the tide pools and sprawling beach. All he could find was the shell, resting on it's side - empty. The boy couldn't understand what had happened. The tide hadn't yet come in, there were no bird tracks around - it was as if he just wandered off. Maybe he had left in order to find a new, larger home - leaving his old one behind as a souvenir.

The boy had every urge to pick the shell up and add it to his collection - so he could remember his friend always, but he fought that urge. Held back against it.

Maybe someday he'd come back, wanting to relive old memories. And if he did, his home would be exactly where he left it - waiting for him.

Barstool Condolences Pt.8

By the time he had heard the noise - he had been walking for what felt like hours. And it had to have been. The sun had set and the wind had begun howling, picking up the loose snow and casting it into the air like a holiday ticker-tape parade, thrown just for him. His cheeks were raw, covered in the tears that had frozen against his bare skin, his toes were numb, curled at the front of his boots, huddled together, trying to squeeze out any remaining heat. The cold had worked through his hat, into his mind. It was now as vacant as the air that was swirling around him - hollow and emotionless. Cold.

He didn't know how he had ended up here. Walking along the path suspended above the waterfront. It wasn't a place that had brought forth happy memories. The last time he had wandered down to this part of the city was with her by his side - long ago, arms interlocked, smiles on their faces. When he was happy. She was happy. They were happy. Now it was just him, walking over the packed down snow from the couples that had come before him. He could make out the different shoe sizes - how the woman walked closer to the man, snuggled up against him for warmth. What he left behind was nothing special, barely noticeable. Without another pair tracks beside his own, it wouldn't last long - covered up by the snow, a journey taken alone.

At first he couldn't tell if the noise was coming from behind him. It was faint - lost in the gusts of wind that bellowed off the frozen water. Small little crunches that echoed around him. As if the ice out on the lake was cracking under some unknown force. Whatever it was, it was coming towards him. Getting closer. Picking up speed.

Turning around, he squinted, trying to see through the cascading snow, but it was no use. All he could see was the faint funnel of light from the last lamp post down the walkway, like some waining beacon in the storm. It had to be his mind playing a trick on him. The wind was so loud, beating into his ears, making them ring, but when he stopped and listened, he swore he could hear it. Approaching.

Footsteps on the path.

He gave another look over his should and saw the outline of another person, hunkered down, shoulders dropped against the swirling wind, making their way down the path vigorously, undeterred by the lashing snow. He was curious who it could be, out in such weather, clearly determined to continue on to their final destination. Once they left the dim cone of light, they were gone, lost within the grey. He'd just have to wait until they reemerged before him.

It wasn't long until he could make out the figure again - only this time much closer, within a few feet. Whoever it was, they still looked like a shadow, hidden by the wall of white. It wasn't until they were right on top of him that he recognized the color of the jacket and the person's height. It was her. She almost bumped into him before looking up and smiling, cheeks rosy and eyelashes sporting little chunks of ice. Even now, mind barren, body numb with pain, the world around him a complete haze, he was lost in her beauty.

Thats when he noticed the duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

Looking down, she was standing right next to his footprints, closer than any of the other pairs littering the walkway.

Maybe their journey together wasn't over.