sacred worlds

the choruses on the new blind guardian album
are stacked several dozen voices high
not crazy sevenths & thirteenths brian wilson style

but minor chords and towering fifths
like enormous crystal sculptures
in far-flung fields

where the wind blows
and the rain turns to ice
and the traveler squints

but continues on
the solos meanwhile on the new blind guardian album
are cleaner than ferraris

yes
the singer still sounds like he's afraid of a monster
and yes

his subject matter still comes
from science fiction and fantasy books
and there's a dragon on the album cover

and then what's more get this
this dragon, flanked by two dudes with axes,
is emerging from a fucking pyramid

you've seen that bumper sticker,
"real men worship jesus"
go ahead

keep telling
yourself
that

new dance

went out tonight
to see the new paul taylor piece

along with esplanade
which remains among the most beautiful things I've ever seen

phantasmagoria
brings half a dozen different things into the frame

and lets them sort of collide
except collisions break things

whereas what happens here
is an absolute harmony

in which the old yeats question
becomes totally incomprehensible

it's tremendous
but esplanade

man
I'm pretty sure that's one of the greatest things ever attempted by anyone

I've seen it twice now
and I like vivaldi & all

but I think you could perform this piece
without any music at all

and I'd still end up in the same condition
awed

wrecked
shouting with joy

I knew but didn't know
a guy who shot himself last summer

I feel like somewhere in esplanade
is the truth that would liberate the suicides

we all grow up
and endure partings that separate us from more things than one

our younger selves
our sense of play

the spectre of some internal divorce
from the self that makes us who we are

looms
and threatens to capture us in spreading shadow

we can't let that happen
we have to feel everything as deeply as we can

let it run through us
and then having taken in

as much as we can
leap into the air

with our friends by our sides
and if not with friends

then with the audience before us
knowing they're there

whether we can see them or not
in the often

blinding
glare of the footlights

the temple at the end of the cosmos

gonna go out on a limb here and say that somewhere out beyond the final star in the universe there is a building standing on a grassy hill suspended there in the final iteration of all seeing like the cover of some trippy science fiction paperback and since I am feeling emboldened to describe things seen by few and remembered by fewer let me further speculate that there is a record player inside the building and speakers in the windows on the second floor the speakers point out toward the small field whose terminus is the void; the turntable to...

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