Seaside Halloween Tree.

Large Dead Leaf No. 2 (1966) by Eliot Hodgkin

Autumn reclaimed.

(RMS, 11-3-21.)

Autumn isn’t the same without you.

(RMS, 8-21-2018.)

The Courtroom Funeral: April 16th, 2021

“You, I did it all for you. Do you know who I am? Do you know just what to do? Now you're all that I have, Is it fair to love me, too?

You, it hurts because of you. And I'll kiss you through a hazmat suit, That's what I'll do if I have to.

You seem to know who I am, As though you know just what to do. Now you're all that I have, Is it fair to love me, too?

And you, I did it all for you.”

--“If I Don’t Have To,” Keaton Henson

A group of incredible beings created something amazing in mid-May of 2023. I was lucky enough to get to see it all flourish and flow at Public Records in Brooklyn, New York.

How I received this unbelievable opportunity I will never know; I couldn’t believe what the Universe placed in my hands. Which is a given—Sigur Rós is the sound of our Universe breathing. True beauty is in everything, and their warm vibrations remind me of that daily.

When I turned my closed eyes to the sky in this photograph (and film poster), my atoms threaded with the sacred, loud, quiet, endless, dark, shimmering, blindingly bright world outside the walls and the glowing cathedral @katya_gimro and her team had created inside the studio.

My being exploded, boundless. Listening to such powerful sound for twenty-one years accumulated into a melding of air and skin, sound and senses, unhinged vulnerability, elation, and, of course: exponential joy.

Thank you, Sigur Rós. Endlessly. You’ve shown my soul true peace. You stayed right beside this exhausted, grieving child down her path of finding uncontrollable vibrancy and her true spirit.

“There’s something sacred and holy about what that does on the inside. And to share that experience with others is just so beautiful.”

—Steven Ezra Riley

The Universe will hold you. You just have to find a way to hear it.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=qEw--v19WyI

If you find someone who can forgive all your bullshit, the least you can do is try to forgive them.

Saga, Vol. 4, Chapt. 23

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Finally got to thank them for saving my life after twenty years.