Deep Love

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on October 27, 2009 by kerzy

The tree, the sea and me (me not pictured)

I am displaced, rehomed, immigrated to warmer lands beyond my dreams. Here the sun shines from January 1 to December 31 with nary a snap inbetween, and the seasons fade into one wonderful forever-summer.

Here the sybarite sun plays free and dances its exhausting way to thunderous heights, and underneath its endlessly wish-fulfillingly-wicked gaze we wilt and play at equal measure. The seas, too, hold delights of multitudinous hue; here, coral of magical fragility – there, swimming friends of rainbow colour. Sharks, tigre, angel fish, Nemo, some other weird fucking shit that I don’t know the name of, et cetera, and that: all smile, serene and splendid in paradise.

Eternal, pacific, clean, fresh; it is easier to create or believe in a god here. Not vengeful, not angry, but an artistically-gifted god. A god whose days, months, eternities were and are spent in creating such utter gorgeousness of species, of sand, of clear-eyed sea that it is nearly enough to make one weep in admiration, in humility, in thrall of the wonders of the deep. Awesome poetry writ in protoplasm, the greatest love delivered through life, through forms; a god who read Immanuel Kant because He was the one who created formalism just for amusement in the first place. The perfect manifestations of the states and objects of the world so that man may have both reference-ambition and reverence. A god who knows that beauty is its own reward, because within perfection lies the imperfect and ultimately-futile-wonderful quest to understand the same.

These are the days of which I dreamt, once, when I dared so to do.

When I dared to dream.

To dream of hese days I thought I never could, or would, see. These wonders, these marvels, these phantasms of purity. To share these days is to be born anew, wide-eyed and full of knowledge of the infinite and infinitely varied aspects of life, and thus of love.

Fuck all that hippy shite though.

The important question is this:

What are the goddamn crisps like here?

2012 update: There are more crisps than I thought. Snackily special. It was clear that it was silly to restrict it to Caribbean-originating snacks – which of course take priority. But there is room for all races and all creeds (of crisps) here and just as the Cayman Islands has over 100 nationalities, so crisps and snacks land here from all over the world. Whether I travel or the crisps travel to meet my gob, the main thing is that we find each other.

Love ever was thus; beware the naysayers for their palates are weak and their arteries suspiciously furless.

2013 update: Operations have returned to the homeland. And yet the quest for Caribbean snacks continues…