04 April 2008


It's important to remember how much you love cranes. It's important to remember that when things seem crazy and your third eye is swooping in and out of fantastic wreckages there is the ocean of noise to float on, like Max to where the wild things are. It's important to remember when you could get in your car, completely solid and intact, you and the car, and turn on "tangled up" and drive to your favorite graveyard. It is important to remember a time when you could write without keeping an eye on the clock for the time that you had to leave to teach thesis statements and five paragraph essays for what already feels like the fifth billionth time. It is important to remember feeling fresh and ready for a call to arms...arms on guitars, arms on notebooks, arms on paintings, arms on women. Seventeen seconds to remember. Life is good now for me and I am in no way refuting that or complaining. It is just that I feel like I am not myself, not the person I imagined sometimes, and I get lost in every body else's writing, every body else's goals and I scrape my economic teeth on the abrasive asphalt falling from my bike and I need to remember to dream, to float adrift, to get my mind off the dishes, the next class, the next appointment, the next book, the next paper, the next presentation and become myself, always already there, again, and the creations of cranes are a glorious raiment, like a perfect expensive suit for a different purpose, that help me feel that way. In cranes, you embrace being lost and use it to your advantage. are you gone? not yet, with your help, ali.

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