This marks my catching up with “the present”. Now writing in realtime again as opposed to transposing from other places…
Does anyone know the Texas Celtic act, Clandestine? They broke up a couple of years ago, but Jen Hammell represented all the beauty and grace that a performer could have and I was ferociously in heart-broken, adoring Love with her for a couple of years after we first met. Off and on of course, depending on where her CD was sitting.
She’s lilting through my speakers now and I wonder what happened to her after Clandestine broke up, but I’m not enough of a stalker to check it out. I thought I showed admirable restraint by not hunting her down while we were in Houston!
Incredible voice, and a grace of gesture that’s hard to describe. It was probably just stage persona, but there was a grin that she would get while she was playing that radiated a kind a kind sort of Love. Now THIS is the Cannonball that drove my blood.
I woke out of strange dreams last night. Swirling things that I don’t remember very well. I think I died. I do that alot. Burning in a car and smelling the leftovers of fellow travellers. Heather melted and ran and dripped on to me and seared and singed. All quiet though. I don’t always feel pain in my dreams, but when I do it’s extreme. Out of the dark on the outside of the car, in the snow that’s piling up and sleeting down, there are a couple of recognizable faces looking on. I won’t list them here because part of me’s dream-angry that they just watched us burn. There’s probably a metaphor singing through my brain about my own race towards self-destruction. There’s a romance to it and I frankly never thought I’d Live this long, though I’ve never been careless enough to Live out my death in anything but dreams like this.
There were other things too – not worth mentioning. I wake up cold.
