Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

The earth laughs at a mountain—okay maybe not laughs, but plays cards with it for a while over lunch break or various epochs, or maybe hires it for a photo shoot before it’s too old and worn to hold snow. The people want snow on their peaks; they never know what to look for. And it all happened so instantaneously. They had bottomless inertia of millennia and empire in mind and constructed—naturally, since a single grain, perhaps one trod on by boots going into the forest or to war to plumb the bottomless ancient instant, holds the vastness of cosmos. We have no right, and we were given it. And the mountain farted millennia and empires in its sleep. We never knew what hit us.

I say this with ease because I never learned to compose music. I never grasped how to bridge time signatures properly. I got lost in some trance-inducing Rasta honky-tonk jukebox reverb like hazy Sunday under a towering steel gleam of truth. It all happened so instantaneously, over and over. I never learned to write music, to write a speech, to grasp the timeless distilled into meter. The way I see it, we were a storm that blew through the empty one time, and the mountain yawned the next morning.

you just keep nailin' it, mnaz, with a roaming honesty that can't hide in the solitude of nature... your words as raw as the deserts and lofty as the mountains.

Thanks Cec. ....fascinated by the life-span of rock and the enormity of nature in general, and that precarious balance that allows human consciousness to take it all in.