Im grateful for the way Japanese whisky settles and spreads an old friend warmth through my chest after a lengthy shacking up with the back-alley flower hipster, gin. Yamazaki--she doesnt care where Ive been. Im thankful for all those songs with the same chords, each one an aching cousin with a different take on a restless, melancholy family of sweet, jangly riffs. Kamsahamnida for long curbside and doorway embraces that dont let go even when I start to pull away, that maybe mean more than I know in the moment. Cám ơn for the sugar cubes still in my cabinet, reminding me of the Czech absinthe that never found its way to my apartment and the butane toast that never was. Na zdraví to all my beautiful almosts. My appreciation is eternal for a lazy eye, turned-up nose sequel, its perfect soundtrack synchronicity, and all the memories and their moon-tide sidekick, pain. Sometimes October boys got it bad, too, but that keeps me honest. Im thankful for all the stories I stumble into like a drunk into passing strangers and all my sisters and brothers who listen to the words that shake out of my best and worst moments. From that childhood day when it rained next door to the unsurpassable Summer of Sake, I am grateful for all my seasons and scenes--both pretty and painful--and the entire beautiful, mad, brilliant cast. And if Im granted a final moment of clarity, Ill spend it and the last of my money on a goodbye cocktail to toast all the questionable choices I made and how sweet they tasted. Ill think of the near kisses and 3 AM breaths and road trips to nowhere, runway lights and the neon of cities breaking through clouds beneath me. Ill remember how a hand held brought the same flutter and hum in my chest as experiencing someone from the inside out, body and energy, for the first time. Ill remember it all with a lingering, last taste of cinnamon, chemicals, and all the spirits of my seasons, and Ill smile because everything was top shelf.
Posted on: Thu, 28 Nov 2013 12:55:51 +0000
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