Creation is an echo
which can only be quieted by
the gradual discovery
of its origin.

The incremental rake of the pen, the
awkward first steps of a melody.

She wrote:
I will settle
for a fort made of blankets
and of pillows
and of chairs,
but nothing less.

The gentle spasm of her legs as she
flirts with sleep, eventually
giving in to the tempting senselessness
offered by the impossible promises of dreams.

As where in the coda
lies the entire story.
A thing can’t repeat
which has no end and
no beginning.

It just is—
no more for having been found
than for not.

Hello, you.

It’s been a long time. Have you forgotten me? Do you even care? Does it even matter? It’s in the past now, so get yourself some coconut water (do you still drink coconut water?) and have a listen to the first song I’ve written in a while. My friend Sean really likes it.

Admittedly, he was drunk and I was standing right there, so what else was he supposed to say?

Hey, you know what? That just got me thinking: instead, let’s grab some beer (you like Six Point, right?), I’ll come over and we can listen together. Because I don’t know how you feel, but I miss you. I miss this. Let’s never go this long without seeing each other again, okay?

Okay.

Yours in song,
Andrew Jimenez.

(PS: This player hates what we have together so it doesn’t always play the song correctly – or at all. If you’re having trouble, Click here to access the actual file.)