But this kind of hurtin' won't heal

I can not accurately begin to explain what it was D.C. Berman meant to me that hasn't already been more adequately expressed by so many other more qualified writers. It's somewhat ridiculous when you consider he was a person I met briefly one time. But the perspective and companionship his writing and music offered me is not quantifiable in terms outside of wishy-washy prosaic speak; the kind of language I will spare you of at this time. What I will share with you is the aforementioned one time I met David. He gave a reading in the town where I live: Gainesville, FL. Some lovely soul had the forethought to record this event and upload it to youtube. For which we all are richer. Thanks to that person.

Hokey rhymes on the day DC Berman died

Ice cubes melting in my glass
why is everything such a pain in the ass?
I want to smoke a million cigarettes
And be buried in the ash

The sound of my own steps endlessly retracing
The droll mediocrity I'm forever facing
Never giving up hope to make something good
I'd do it, I swear, if only I could
Always trying to take this feeling that is so god damn old
and spin it into lines of shimmering gold
I have to put on my sunglasses so all the callous passersby
Won't have the satisfaction of seeing the tears in my eyes
I'm afraid what will happen to me under my own influence
Living a life of unearned affluence

Can we just go on a bike ride forever
And never come back?
Ride our puny minds into the void
and disappear into the black


bcfl
8.7.19