Friday, July 22, 2011

how he spent the intervening years away from earth

I am writing to you tonight from another planet. The planet that I am on features, among other amazing and colourful attributes, trees that bear cold cans of Tecate as their fruit.

¿Absolutamente una tentación, eh?

Besides my observation of the absolutely strikingly and beautifully efficient means with which the blossoms progress from small bright metallic orbs into cold and frosty containers of liquid refreshment, there are many reasons why I am fascinated by this current location.

It is, among the other translucent and weightless things, calm and peaceful here. It is dark at night. Polillas covered in the iridescent mourning gowns of a fast life flutter by, seeking out the orbs of light that float just about everywhere. Occasionally, a bat swoops down, upon them.

Es maravilloso estar aquí.

Other notable features include rain that never stops (hence the constant fruition of the noble and fruity cans); grass that grows inward, toward the center of the planet; a feeling of utter surrender and tranquility described by the motions and shapes of the clouds overhead; the smell of electricity and burning in the air.

Interestingly, the telephonic devices used by the inhabitants I have so far encountered are joined by strings, which symbolize some sort of connection that I have not been able to quantify at this point in time. Those strings son significados, I am certain of it.

There is also a large moon covered in hopeful starlight, floating overhead.

There are some drawbacks, however. The wind seeps through the doorways and makes a dour mist in the twilight hours, the government has banned mirrors and all the buildings have been painted white.

¡Ay, como fregas!

When morning comes and while the sky turns the color of the creamsicles the ice cream man on your world, driving down your street (with ersatz calliope blaring) is selling, I will make my way past the remnants of a once great civilization to an ultra-secret location where I may transported back to Albuquerque, New Mexico – a location on the planet earth symbolized roughly by the coordinates 35° 6′ 39″ N, 106° 36′ 36″ W, but actually comprising some 469.5 square kilometers in and around that area.

I like it here, but I am told by reputable and unimpeachable sources that where you are, dear reader, that summer has ineluctably returned, is at its decalescent apex, all sublimity and fleshy flowers.

The sky there is still and unceasingly blue.

Pienso que quisiera eso.

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