It's the last day of the school year, again, my sixth, and I am in a high place and filled with light. Good and big things afoot.
Barack Obama, despite facing six months of vehement rhetoric and underhanded machine-candidate opposition, is the nominee of the Democratic Party. Though last night was somewhat anticlimactic (I feel he actually clinched it on May 6), I was able to enjoy it. Can one fathom how truly unprecendented this is? That being said, I must stop watching six hours of pundits talking of nothing every night. I usually get mad and accomplish nothing.
The Cubs have won nine in a row, and have the best record in all of baseball.
Zahir Tales has just published one of my stories. "Roaring Seraph, Singing Thunder." It's available on Amazon!
Summer vacation starts tonight. Patricia and I are going to one of our favorite restaurants, an Ecuadorian place in north Chicago. And then I will sleep and awake into a world where I get paid to lie on the beach and read. We're going all the way to Germany (the trains and the cold, dark sea) and points beyond. I'd like to be a writer again instead of just telling people I am. I was once, and those were good times. I want to (and have been) reconnect(ing) with friends.
This has been a grand year, and I will miss these kids - they had me laughing almost every day - but I am ready to move away from the routine and into the clearing.
Eulogy
Words and Music: Daniel Brugioni (December 2004)
Part 1. (The slow road to nowhere)
I, an old man on the shore, feet in sand
Looking to the south I wait for rain
I can smell the end in the wind
The end to all the resonance of love and pain
I’m missing the rainstorms
I’m hiding in corners
The darkness falls away like dust
Upon the shoals and staves and rust
The ships at sea are blinking
The moon is red as blood tonight
It makes a trail across the sky
Feel my cold hand, make it right
I’m missing the rainstorms
I’m hiding in corners
The river is frozen
The nymphs are departed
Part 2. (A shadowless clearing)
Huddling by the embers
Trying to remember
The taste you had in the morning
The feel of deep contentment
The moon floats slowly closer
You were just a stranger
A face upon the lightning
A shadow on the evening
I still see you laughing
On the rocks above the river
There was promise in your glances
There were shivers in your fingers
I loved you most in winter
Our kisses seemed to linger
Your breath was warm and lonely
I was all you needed
But you never touched me
With the music of your longing
I can’t see you clearly
A cloud has come between us
Part 3. (Silence over Astove Atoll)
In the river the water runs fragrant with music
In the darkness of twilight I see the leaves folding
The acrid smoke rises to the dawn of the evening
The lanterns sputter on
The guitar is played
The chill of the summer compelled you to my arms
‘Cause you were alone at the end of the day
I was content to just hold you at sundown
My heart broke each time you looked my way
The chill of the summer, the thrill of your eyes
Humming a tune that rolls soundlessly by
The echoes of thunder, the spill of your smile
Thunderclouds swell in the gunmetal sky
I was content to just hold you at sundown
‘Cause you were alone at the end of the day
But now (I know) the summer’s ended
The air is damp, the nymphs are gone
The music whispers in fall’s suspension
I know our story’s run too long
I know our story’s run too long
But I loved the feel of your skin
And the way your arms would enfold me
I’m so sad you never let me in
I’m so sad that we’re left lonely
The chill of the summer compelled you to my arms
‘Cause you were alone at the end of the day
I was content to just hold you at sundown
My heart broke each time you looked my way
Part 4. (Finishing work in the pink light of evening)
And I wonder briefly
If this is really happening
You are still a stranger
Even after years of laughter
I stand upon the landing
And watch the story’s ending
I don’t even miss you
Or am I just pretending?
Part 5. (Prayers by gaslight)
The wind turns slowly in its dreams
My garden’s filled with wind and weeds
I ceased to move so long ago
I lie awake beneath the rain
And sip a cup, lie down again
I wonder what the tides will bring
I’m feeling the rainstorms
I’m laughing in corners
The river is crackling
The nymphs are awaking
Part 6. (Twilight in the City of Beauty)
I lie awake on the edge of the morning
Thinking of the times when we would drive alone
To the places where the wind and the thunder made their home
And your face floats like the haints on the dim early vesper
While I rise and shuffle through all my meaningless endeavors
I push your voice aside for the comfort of the wind
And the droning of the voices that say “Begin again”
And I cloud my swimming head with hazy images of trees
And bedrooms, and lanterns that swing out over the sea
The old way stations’ lights blink just beyond perception
Strangers’ voices sing with vacuous inflections
I walk along the shoreline in the company of ghosts
Beneath the sweep of searchlights that float in over the coast
And I watch it rain over coffee in cafes
And pretend that I don’t miss you and pretend that I’m okay
But in the spaces of the night when I lie upon the dark
I can feel your pretty smile and its weight upon my heart
So I wake again to thunder and I start the day alone
And the wind puffs in from somewhere and it makes my head its home
I feel the cold at evening and I toast the vacant stars
And I whisper of the hopeless and leave coffee rings on bars
I fill the air with breath, which falls like crystal on the snow
But I know that’s it’s warm somewhere and I know that there is hope
I’ve dreamt of you for many years and now I dream alone
It’s morningtime in Tana, the city of my home
Barack Obama, despite facing six months of vehement rhetoric and underhanded machine-candidate opposition, is the nominee of the Democratic Party. Though last night was somewhat anticlimactic (I feel he actually clinched it on May 6), I was able to enjoy it. Can one fathom how truly unprecendented this is? That being said, I must stop watching six hours of pundits talking of nothing every night. I usually get mad and accomplish nothing.
The Cubs have won nine in a row, and have the best record in all of baseball.
Zahir Tales has just published one of my stories. "Roaring Seraph, Singing Thunder." It's available on Amazon!
Summer vacation starts tonight. Patricia and I are going to one of our favorite restaurants, an Ecuadorian place in north Chicago. And then I will sleep and awake into a world where I get paid to lie on the beach and read. We're going all the way to Germany (the trains and the cold, dark sea) and points beyond. I'd like to be a writer again instead of just telling people I am. I was once, and those were good times. I want to (and have been) reconnect(ing) with friends.
This has been a grand year, and I will miss these kids - they had me laughing almost every day - but I am ready to move away from the routine and into the clearing.
Eulogy
Words and Music: Daniel Brugioni (December 2004)
Part 1. (The slow road to nowhere)
I, an old man on the shore, feet in sand
Looking to the south I wait for rain
I can smell the end in the wind
The end to all the resonance of love and pain
I’m missing the rainstorms
I’m hiding in corners
The darkness falls away like dust
Upon the shoals and staves and rust
The ships at sea are blinking
The moon is red as blood tonight
It makes a trail across the sky
Feel my cold hand, make it right
I’m missing the rainstorms
I’m hiding in corners
The river is frozen
The nymphs are departed
Part 2. (A shadowless clearing)
Huddling by the embers
Trying to remember
The taste you had in the morning
The feel of deep contentment
The moon floats slowly closer
You were just a stranger
A face upon the lightning
A shadow on the evening
I still see you laughing
On the rocks above the river
There was promise in your glances
There were shivers in your fingers
I loved you most in winter
Our kisses seemed to linger
Your breath was warm and lonely
I was all you needed
But you never touched me
With the music of your longing
I can’t see you clearly
A cloud has come between us
Part 3. (Silence over Astove Atoll)
In the river the water runs fragrant with music
In the darkness of twilight I see the leaves folding
The acrid smoke rises to the dawn of the evening
The lanterns sputter on
The guitar is played
The chill of the summer compelled you to my arms
‘Cause you were alone at the end of the day
I was content to just hold you at sundown
My heart broke each time you looked my way
The chill of the summer, the thrill of your eyes
Humming a tune that rolls soundlessly by
The echoes of thunder, the spill of your smile
Thunderclouds swell in the gunmetal sky
I was content to just hold you at sundown
‘Cause you were alone at the end of the day
But now (I know) the summer’s ended
The air is damp, the nymphs are gone
The music whispers in fall’s suspension
I know our story’s run too long
I know our story’s run too long
But I loved the feel of your skin
And the way your arms would enfold me
I’m so sad you never let me in
I’m so sad that we’re left lonely
The chill of the summer compelled you to my arms
‘Cause you were alone at the end of the day
I was content to just hold you at sundown
My heart broke each time you looked my way
Part 4. (Finishing work in the pink light of evening)
And I wonder briefly
If this is really happening
You are still a stranger
Even after years of laughter
I stand upon the landing
And watch the story’s ending
I don’t even miss you
Or am I just pretending?
Part 5. (Prayers by gaslight)
The wind turns slowly in its dreams
My garden’s filled with wind and weeds
I ceased to move so long ago
I lie awake beneath the rain
And sip a cup, lie down again
I wonder what the tides will bring
I’m feeling the rainstorms
I’m laughing in corners
The river is crackling
The nymphs are awaking
Part 6. (Twilight in the City of Beauty)
I lie awake on the edge of the morning
Thinking of the times when we would drive alone
To the places where the wind and the thunder made their home
And your face floats like the haints on the dim early vesper
While I rise and shuffle through all my meaningless endeavors
I push your voice aside for the comfort of the wind
And the droning of the voices that say “Begin again”
And I cloud my swimming head with hazy images of trees
And bedrooms, and lanterns that swing out over the sea
The old way stations’ lights blink just beyond perception
Strangers’ voices sing with vacuous inflections
I walk along the shoreline in the company of ghosts
Beneath the sweep of searchlights that float in over the coast
And I watch it rain over coffee in cafes
And pretend that I don’t miss you and pretend that I’m okay
But in the spaces of the night when I lie upon the dark
I can feel your pretty smile and its weight upon my heart
So I wake again to thunder and I start the day alone
And the wind puffs in from somewhere and it makes my head its home
I feel the cold at evening and I toast the vacant stars
And I whisper of the hopeless and leave coffee rings on bars
I fill the air with breath, which falls like crystal on the snow
But I know that’s it’s warm somewhere and I know that there is hope
I’ve dreamt of you for many years and now I dream alone
It’s morningtime in Tana, the city of my home
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Herbie