I’ve made the long voyage home. The feeling of home, toes warm carpet, window squared still, room hug corners, know it so well. I’ve made the long voyage home and left only glint behind me. This morning was had on the shores of hurried gathering of things together, a hurried clompety clompety to the railway pssshhhco! pssshhhhco! And countryside rolled slightly in a way I will miss when I’m future. Curled on of my few comfortable horizontals, that know me, I am drying after a session of splashing and washing and stretching. I’ve made the long voyage home.

What have I left to give?
I still have something of a live moment I experienced about a week ago now, a live moment in my place of this morning’s departure.
That something is difficult to articulate, it’s natural to expose, so let me expose myself. in strands, like the texture of something palpable, the voice has the texture of a face I know, the face touched like sacred slightly rough skin, thickened yet so intricate, so true, the voice levitates but also stretched and placed kinetically, a sound of sensitive looks, a sound of hurt, registered, then unleashed in opened fists upon the vast air of an attentive ocean-coloured mind.

I’m listening to the audio, the voice, I’m not watching the video, I’m typing, I’m scrolling, I’m here, perched at home, yet internet still, I still dangle myself exposed in the irksome ink of in-between realms, contentedly, where I belong, and I feel a sense of belonging to this song as well.

The live moment? In York. My university town, my 80% of the year, I know York a lot partly through the live performance of and organised by Sam Griffiths. Sam is one of the few artists who deserves more than just a plug, and since I’ve forgotten how to do plugs without simultaneously pouring out my soul, it’s only a matter of time until this particular plug sucks me up into the dark for my reducing a  sensational song-writing talent, Sam, into a few slightly confusing sentences amidst a post about someone who played a gig that he put on.

The live moment had this mentioned song called Salmon Run, by Amy Ellis, another artist in York.

It’s up there with the best of 2014 and today is along with the late December archives, the best kind.

Gggiven & out

Comments are closed, but trackbacks and pingbacks are open.