Thursday, January 26, 2012


The branch upon which the blossom hangs may be long or short, rough or smooth, strong or weak according to our expectations, but the redness of the blossom is irrevocable, and the word "red" tells us next to nothing about it. There are thousands of colors in the world and only a few hundred words to describe them, and these include similitudes like teal and peach and turquoise. So, the names we put on colors are hardly more than proper names, like Smith or Rodriguez, denoting vast, swarming, diverse families of living experience. Thus, when color signifies anything, it always signifies, as well, a respite from language and history- a position from which we may contemplate absence and death IN THE PARADISE OF THE MOMENT..

Air Guitar
Dave Hickey

Flying into the city that watched me grow up, I´ve passed through you briefly since my return to Mexico, never in such lucidity as today. I don´t think words suffice to describe internal expansion, they never do. Color might do it justice if you could only see with my eyes.

You still smell and sound and taste exactly the way you did twenty-three years ago. Like cold air on sunny days, turkey sandwiches and messy sundaes, alternative 90s music and oldies but goodies. I love you for so many intrinsic reasons a lifetime could nearly describe. You are my happiest childhood and ignorant bliss. A home built by love on Cielo Vista Rd overlooking the city that beheld it and also watched it fall apart.

Your territory majestically unfolded to create foundations, you are a great deal of the map.

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