sharing Van Morrison

"expect them to rise for the occasion"

I'm sitting here, in my office, listening to Van Morrison, waiting for my Nike FuelBand to charge. It keeps showing a digital image of a battery becoming full and then deleting the three dots, falling back to incompleteness.

There is a stupid picture of me to your right. There it is, just there, you can see it. Wait. It is gone.

I feel different listening to one song, then listening to a different one. I expect silence to consume my soul, to have peace. And in relation to the Palestinians, I have peace. Peace is a relative thing. But I'm searching for a deeper peace, you might say. Or you might not. You might say, fuck you Anthony Leonard. Fuck you for all the bullshit that you've spewed throughout the course of your life. And I would say to you, well, that's a bit harsh. Let's sit and wait for the buffalo.

Of course, the buffalo, here, implies peace, between the two of us. You could run. You could bend over, hands on knees (you are tall and slender, so the triangle shape is grandiose and magnificent), and you could cry, cry so hard and so loud and so completely that you are lost and your anger is manifold and manifest except you can't catch it, you're crying so hard, the weeping wakes up tiny doves in a nearby nest.

Because different songs create different feelings, and I like to stick with one feeling when the feeling is right, I play songs on repeat. This allows me to stay with the feeling, for better, and certainly for worse. I have held you in my arms. I have lost you in the prison at Marseilles. I hope you are my brother from another mother. You black man in my arms, lost widget bird, calculated, short term, tender, deafening.

The thunder is deafening, the thunder of the waterfall in my imagination (I'm allowed to continue on because the song started again). It is the waterfall of the movies, the plot thickener, the tragedy or the tragedy averted. It is, after all, just the waterfall of my imagination. Nothing more. But certainly nothing less. You who hovered around this incompleteness and allowed me to persist.

What wakes me up in the morning? My job? What wakes me up in the night? My fears?

with a love complete,
Anthony

"Dweller on the Threshold"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Ln-H2HV6o0