Let's Clap

Margot and the Nuclear So & So's - As Tall as cliffs - A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

'I tell tales, tall as cliffs...'
I write. I enjoy it. Nothing that I can say I am particularly proud of, but everything is a process. Writing makes sense to me.

'...but i needn't be afraid of those devils on the wall...'
Though, I haven't written anything in quite some time...there are still attempts here and there.
Everything that I was proud of is now lost forever on a dead hard drive.
My blog...it's stale. Maybe I need something different to look at-real parchment perhaps. However, who uses real paper anymore? That's crazy to even think about. Maybe I need something real to write about; something worthy of telling or re-telling. Maybe I need to be inspired-Travel-What if I traveled? What if I traveled around the world and gathered as many tall tales as I could to combine into a reality television series-that would be truth. Ratings would go through the roof, I would be a celebrity and my biggest problems would be no more! Maybe I could go for twelve months without saying a word and then write about my experiences that I witnessed or experienced-like a monk. A code of silence. What if I went to France and sang with a terrific band while playing one of many percussion instruments...oh how grand that would be.

'You came well equipped...'
Maybe I'm fine. Maybe I can't write because my head is not clear. You know, that mugginess of summer.
Though it is summer and that heaviness is making itself disgustingly known throughout the air, there is still a hint of something fresh from spring that hangs about. Taunting me with the hope of a crisp and cool day. A day where everything is wonderful. A day where questions aren't even questions, but a slew of answers, where the pieces fit that you never knew were even out of place. One of those afternoons where, as silly and cliche as it is, you feel as though your life revolves around a song of 'ohhs' combined with voices in harmony. Maybe I have plenty to write about, but because there is so much hanging around in the air there is no way to choose just the ripest red apple to talk about. Maybe I need help to pick it...Oh how grand that would be.

'...but I'll tell you the truth, darling I'm tired, I should be leaving...'
Clapping. I like to clap. It's so...definite. It's loud and precise-and simple. Even in a crowd of applause, each-if you listen closely-has it's own loud and distinct sound. Which, then all together, makes an even louder sound generated by all of the, what seemed to be little and not important, claps of noise. It then, amongst it's crazy flutters of claps, almost makes it's own beat. The individuals have now formed a group. A group sometimes without a very steady beat, but because the claps are so distinct, I feel that in a crowd of claps that people next to each other acknowledge their own claps and those around them...Movement. Everything then begins to move in a lovely swaying motion. A sea of claps. Individual but in an odd way, a beautiful group. Perhaps if I clap loud enough everything will begin to fall into place. Each clap will bring another beautiful apple out of the stale air so that it can be examined and shared...Claps are unifying...and tiring. After a long period of clapping, the coolness and that feeling of importance amongst the group seems to fade away.

There are seasons. There are seasons for a reason and the process of transition happens because it is necessary. I strongly dislike summer-but it has to happen...because if summer did not happen, then there would be no fall. There would be no leaves to crunch, no air to breath deep, no twigs to swirl between two fingers and there would be no canvas of beauty. My days of 'ohhs' sung by a chorus would cease to exist and I would be a lump on a log waiting for mold to inhabit my body.

'And take to the streets...'
You know what though? What's so great about movement, especially movement or crazed clapping that sometimes doesn't make sense, is that it stops. Though the movement is great it is only a step-Through the waves and ripples- through the sea of claps and what seems to be continuous-it all pauses for a moment. What's cool about this pause is that it usually seems to be in a moment where you know that it is significant. A place where you know you shouldn't forget. A pause where the chorus of 'ohhs' is being sung while the claps are keeping time and in this moment you look up to find that the pieces are starting to fit together just nicely. The Trick: It's easier to clap in movement together.