Home > you and me > you and me POSTCARD #34

you and me POSTCARD #34

It’s been a dark month this one. But one of the brightest lights I’ve ever experienced was my co-collaborator, Jessica Tremp‘s wedding a couple of weeks ago. The glow was simply that intense I think every guest went home cocooned in it for good. This postcard is of course Jessica and my collaboration. But I’m sure she won’t mind me dedicating it to her and Michael.

Oh and I’ve got a bit of a thing for Leonard Cohen. When I looked at Jess’s word and image, the song Everybody Knows insisted on being part of the story. So I’ve included the Youtubey thing at the bottom so you can listen as you read if you like.

And if you haven’t already read about how easily it is to fall in love with Jessica Tremp’s work go check out and buy her art at http://www.jessicatremp.com/.

brontide

.

My friends say this trek will be good for me. That I’m too much of a city girl. That I drink too much and fuck stupid men. We laugh over that because it’s a good one.

But I catch the plane without the whiskey and the sleeping pills. Without the heavy blue blankets and the stranger beside me and his hands beneath them. My clothes are crumpled and bathed in my scent by the time I reach the group. The leader is fervent. Bloody Americans.

I groan my backpack on and don’t make eye contact with any of the others. I shy away from the familiar accents the most. My boots have already been worn in because I’m prepared like that. We walk across the plains with the mountains in the distance. We stop and camp. We sleep. I look at the ground as I pass over it and listen as the distant rumble I’ve heard my whole life roars to a crescendo. I stop and the Swiss girl behind bumps into me.

Can you hear it too?

She asks with her hands to her ears and I nod and kneel in the dirt pushing small mountains around my knees. My teeth vibrate as the rest of the group walk on and a group of nomads pass us.

I want to warn them that the ground is about to open up and swallow us whole. How it’s going to take everything. But a man with a ram draped over his shoulders smiles as he passes and whistles a shrill note that pierces through the bass tearing through me.

I stand and the sound is different. I want to say thank you but he already knows.

The animal he’s carrying knows.

The Swiss girl grinning beside me knows.

Everybody knows.

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  1. holly
    August 19, 2010 at 7:00 pm

    staggeringly good, yas. dark mutated into glowing good.
    i loved every word.

  2. August 21, 2010 at 8:43 am

    Love the story. Love it. And thanks for linking to Jessica Tremp. I was amazed — her work is outrageously good.

  3. August 21, 2010 at 3:58 pm

    I love making mountains around knees. Thank you! xxx So much x

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