Wednesday, April 25, 2007


A few drops of rain were falling on my skin, as I was biking, biking, away from the office and back to town. A few drops fell on my warm skin and I wanted it to rain more, to rain hard, to pour down from the heavens. I was biking, biking, purging my energy from office politics, disappearing from a day of pretending, unable to accept 'The Office' is a reality other than a joke, not giving up on the truth of here-i-am-talking-to-you, to you and no one else, here i am communicating one mind to another, one soul with another, wanting to believe what CĂ©line said in that classic movie 'Before Sunrise':

"I believe if there's any kind of God it wouldn't be in any of us, not you or me but just this little space in between. If there's any kind of magic in this world it must be in the attempt of understanding someone sharing something. I know, it's almost impossible to succeed but who cares really? The answer must be in the attempt."

Blossom was raining down on me as I was running, running, away from town and back to campus. Blossom rain poured softly on my head and I wanted the tree to shake, to shake at its very core and cover me in its early-spring flowers. I was running, running, away from town and back home, to one of the myspaces in my book, to the familiar smell of buildings I lived in, to the mocking and laughing of friends and to their analysis of deeper darker motives.

Storm is in the air, is weighing heavily and is pressure on my temples as people are sniffing and whiffing and complaining that hasn't rained in weeks. Storm air is pressure on my head as I wait for the downpour that has to come, inevitably, as sober hard-working weeks are followed by a night of exquisite, exotic partying. It is weighing, weighing heavily on my conscience, this downpour that is about to come.

A downpour might come with the passion of the singer, singing with his heart&soul - at the concert I attended last weekend, after a little roadtrip to Strasbourg (another place called home). A downpour might come, as his songs fell on our heads and swept us away to a land of passion and activism and silver-silk movement. He sang with his heart and soul, wearing a t-shirt from the 'one'-campaign (Bono, Jeffrey Sachs, talking of standing up to militancy with peace (in a time, which is not the sixties, in a time when electronic music has us tripping, in a time when a certain US administration seems to have a never-ending monopoly on danger and idiocy).

The singer sang his song like a prayer for peace, played his music like an expression of a desire for what-is-not-now-the-case. The song here is without words, but his other song goes "Well there's far too many questions to ask,/to answer any of them tonight. /For I wear too many masks,/to tell if any of them are wrong or right. /And confusion casts a shadow up on me,/like a great big cloud in the sky. /And now I pray for rain, /cause it's been so long since i let myself cry. "
And we all sang the refrain right back at him.

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