There goes another snowflake, said Blurtso. I like to watch things that fall—leaves, feathers, snowflakes—things just a little heavier than air. There’s something relaxing in watching them let go, something soothing in their acceptance and lack of direction, their trust in the cycle… of soil and stars.
Here are some songs I’ve written.
Audio PlayerCliffs of the heart
Audio PlayerYou can’t say yes
Audio PlayerThe best we can do
Audio PlayerThe snow is melting
Audio PlayerSlipping into stone
Audio PlayerOut of line
Audio PlayerKindness
Audio PlayerUndo what’s done
Audio PlayerDevil’s Sister
Audio PlayerLiar sun
Audio PlayerBecause I love you
Audio PlayerThe hope it is
Audio PlayerLetting go
Audio PlayerCrossroads night
Audio PlayerTake me there
Audio PlayerAll I want is a breeze
Audio PlayerThe beginning of you
Audio PlayerHell on the inside
Audio PlayerThe kingdom meant for me
Audio PlayerEight ounces of water
Audio PlayerGo around
Audio PlayerCatch, glide and shove
Audio PlayerToo late for you
Audio PlayerThis girl do
Audio PlayerSleeping where the rich people play
Audio PlayerOf all the gold
Audio PlayerEcho
Audio PlayerAfraid this time
Audio PlayerTenderness
Audio PlayerA safe place to go
Audio PlayerSeize the moment
Audio PlayerHaven’t had yet
Audio PlayerMy Michelle
Audio PlayerCruel shapes
Audio PlayerYou made him a promise
Audio PlayerSeventh day
Audio PlayerMy baby’s arms
Audio PlayerMore than the blues
Audio PlayerDrink beer on stage
Audio PlayerI’m in you
Audio PlayerSave me
Audio PlayerGiraffe
No, said Bonny, the stream never flows back.
I guess there’s not much snow in Borneo, said Blurtso. No, said Harlan, but there are many palm trees. I like palm trees, said Blurtso. So do I, said Harlan, there’s nothing like napping in a palm grove… listening to the wind in the leaves, and feeling the shadows on your skin. Yes, said Blurtso, a palm grove is a great place to nap, and so is a recliner, under a palapa next to the sea. Yes, said Harlan, there’s nothing like napping to the sound of waves, with a cap pulled down on your eyes. A Red Sox cap? said Blurtso. Of course, said Harlan. The snow is nice too, said Blurtso. Yes, said Harlan, there’s nothing like napping in a loft, with a cup of hot cocoa, listening to the slosh of cars in the street. Yes, said Blurtso, or napping under an oak, on a summer day, in an empty field in Maine. I still can’t believe, said Harlan, the Red Sox didn’t win the World Series.
I told you we could fit, said Blurtso.
The snow is collecting on the frame of the windows. Collecting, melting, and collecting. I wonder if my windows are laminated? It’s quite warm in here, so they must be laminated. I wonder how much energy I’ve stored from my solar panel? I’m glad I have straw. Straw is a good insulator. I could be warm in the straw even if my windows are unlaminated. I should make a thermos of chocolate while I still have power. I could be happy with a thermos of chocolate and straw even if my windows are unlaminated and I don’t have power. Hmmm… the snow is really collecting on the frame of the windows.
I wonder how long it will snow? Donkeys are desert animals. We shouldn’t like the snow. But the houses and streets and yards look like dunes in the waning light. And the snow-covered cars look like donkeys, quickening their pace at the end of a journey home.
There’s always tomorrow
Hey… footsteps in the snow. I wonder where they’re going? Maybe I’ll follow them. Doo dee doo dee dee, dee dee dee dee doo… hey, what’s this? No more footsteps. I wonder what happened to the person who was making them? How can a person just vanish like that, and make no more tracks? Hmmm, maybe I’d better go see Harlan, and make sure he’s alright.
Welcome to tonight’s discussion sponsored by “The Campus Institute of Political Seriousness for Enhanced Living in an Unenhanced World.” I’m your host, Jonathan Wellborn Truington III, and joining us this evening is Mr. Blurtso Lundif, a third-year diversity fellow at Harvard College, who has garnered attention in Cambridge as, “the donkey who stands in the snow.” Please tell us, Mr. Lundif, if you would, what is your opinion of the current political climate in our nation’s capital? The political climate? said Blurtso. Yes, said Mr. Truington. I don’t know anything about it, said Blurtso. Do you think, said Mr. Truington, that the politicians should all go stand in the snow? It couldn’t hurt, said Blurtso. And what have you accomplished, said Mr. Truington, by standing in the snow? Accomplished? said Blurtso. Yes, said Mr. Truington, what have you learned? I’ve learned to stand still, said Blurtso. To stand still? said Mr. Truington. Yes, said Blurtso. Anything else? said Mr. Truington. Isn’t that enough? said Blurtso. Well, said Mr. Truington, I suppose it is… and where exactly do you stand? Anywhere, said Blurtso. Anywhere? said Mr. Truington. Yes, said Blurtso, anywhere that’s snowy and cold. Is there something, said Mr. Truington, that inspires you to do it? Yes, said Blurtso, it’s compelling to stand in a public place that is empty… and where, if someone does appear, they move so quickly they may as well not be there. I see! said Mr. Truington, standing in the snow is an indictment of the modern world and its frenetic pace! Is it? said Blurtso. Does it bother you, said Mr. Truington, if others stand in the snow next to you? No, said Blurtso, as long as they don’t ask questions. Questions? said Mr. Truington. Yes, said Blurtso, about why I’m standing in the snow. Of course, said Mr. Truington, and apart from your scathing attack on people in a hurry, what other statements are you trying to make? Are you attempting to draw attention to a charitable cause? Are you trying to see how long you can stand before collapsing? No, said Blurtso, I go home whenever I want. And how do you know, said Mr. Truington, that it’s time to go home? As soon as I start walking, said Blurtso, I know it’s time to go. Remarkable, said Mr. Truington. Well, ladies and gentlemen, there you have it, neither ice, nor sleet, nor snow will stop this remarkable coed from making his stand. Please join us next week when our featured speaker will be Somerville’s own self-deprecating playwright and hairbrush salesman, Reverend Willy J. Loman.