doubtless ive described the same night sky untold times but it never ceases to amaze me. tonight something new came to mind. want to hear it? shut up. it appeared to me as the sistine chapel did post-michelangelo. the moon (blue) nothing more than a spotlight hanging in space like some hallucinagen recurrance highlighting myself instead of the art. yeah the ceiling itself a collection of stars and the occasional cloud. clouds dont show up that well at night... typically anyway. i thought about comparing them to scars but it didnt fit so, in conjunction with the motif, picture unfinished or old-worn sistine ceiling. blank spots. rubbed clean. nah it wouldnt really be logical would it? the clouds only mask the art behind it. a mold perhaps? blech. odd that i thougt about this exact same extended metaphor a while back... perhaps the only reason its come to me tonight?

last time i was sitting (slouching...) on the white front right cushion of my family friend's '99 sea striker (with a '98 johnson 175 mmm...) heading out from atlantic beach through the infamous (to our family anyway) shifting channels to the hook and cape lookout lighthouse. far as i can figure a six-year old was at the wheel (no joke). as a prequel to tropical storm alex (femme), the storm clouds were doing a dry run (hah, pun) around the area. basically this equates to gorgeous ominous breathtaking clouds in every direction. not some hazy shit you would expect to find around here but starkly naked, defined, beautiful powerhouses. they filled the sky, individual menaces and eventually dropped a torrent (in their direct vicinity as you can tell from the water) on us at the hook. well, as i stood on the hook i could look in three cardinal directions (north, west, and south) and see seperate rain showers all heading our way. picture the garbage compacter in that original star wars movie except with three walls (yeah im having trouble with it too). and with no monster. the only downside to a storm like this, once we got back to the sea striker anyway, was that we had to enclose (3/4) the cabin to seal out (right, hah) the rain. cruising back to the lighthouse meant the vacuum created by the canopy sucked in all the lovely monoxide filled exhaust gasses from that old johnson 175. it started to bother some people and myself for a bit but was alleviated when i realized what it was and started to appreciate it for its steely ability to painlessly kill. yes, i can respect that. tangent concluded, that was the first and last time i came to use the sistine chapel metaphor.

clearly other things have happened since that continue to shape my life in every single way but nothing that i feel like explaining tonight. i could write a song about it but then again... so does everyone eventually right? as for tonight ill be content with my mojo rising. love you all (but some more than others). goodnight.