as love crowns you he crucifies you

Found out early this morning that my favourite uncle died. I can't find his obit.

He's "the uncle". The year was 1988. Gave me my first beer (PBR), handed me my first Playboy (LaToya Jackson) right off the rack.

I remember that night being so crisp and clear that the glowing ring around the moon practically touched the horizon. The smell of a wood burning stove always brings me back to that farm out in Pennsylvania.

I wouldn't be quiet the artist I am today if it wasn't for two books on his shelf. The Whole Earth Catalogue, and The Pin-Up Book. Both of them influenced me greatly, to the point I can still feel it today.

I don't think I've even seen him in 20 years. But I always think about him, just for a moment, every time I crack open a cold can of Pabst.

He died last year due to cancer, leaving behind two daughters and a wife. I didn't find out until this morning, due to... circumstances I don't feel a need to get into.

RIP Bob. Next beer's for you.

And I've dragged her away from all that has haunted her. And she's dragged right back to reality. A widow and a mother has called her.

The autopsy is wrong, the story never syncs up. Much like the stories from the mouth of the man and the people around him.

I'm drinking the wrong wine, and she's singing the right song. Do we have tobacco?

I've got the wrong ideas, and she's got the wrong plan. I'm looking right at her, and I'm seeing nothing, and I'm seeing everything she's got.

I'm a tree. The goddamned world tree. And my roots are deep and bloody, and my branches are whipped and torn asunder in a storm.

And I'm still standing. And the world I love is still safe beneath me.

"i'm just running with a fantasy world religious thing; but he embraced my goddess."

Thank god I'm here. Right here. There is no other place I would want to be. Giving everything, taking everything, accepting it all.

breathing, breathing, constantly breathing...

...

we are still alive. but right now, i don't know how to touch her.