Drew's adventures

I climbed a mountain. 

Sweating, grunting, seething, snorting, sand in my teeth, wind in my eyes, pain in my back, I climb. Too high, and I kept climbing. Too tired, and I kept climbing. Too far, too hot, too weak, and I kept climbing. I'm dying but I'm climbing. And climbing. And climbing.

And then I'm atop the mountain, exhausted, feeble, trembling, sweat peppered with sand congealing in the cool evening breeze on my face and neck. I am all bruised knuckles and thin wheezing but it is worth it. The sun begins it's final dip behind the ocean and the city explodes in violent golden lights, a litter of gems strewn at the base of the mountain, glittering, eager to be found. From my vantage point, I watch the last of the shadow play against the side of Table Mountain, stark, long reaching, smothered in a rolling fog cascading over the edge. The diminishing sunset stains the hem of the horizon with deep rusted golds and lusty fugitive reds before surrendering to the sea. A sea breeze nearly knocks me off my feet and I cry out unexpectedly. My lower back is in knots. And it's time to descend. 

And then I am in a smoky room, the clinks of glass-against-glass mingling with the subtle anonymous din of a thousand conversations, the low lights casting sepia shadows like smeared honey, my fingertips trembling at the edge of a microphone, a sea of disinterested strangers. And then the music begins and I forget. The words come like an incantation. I get out of it's way and let it happen like dreams do. It is a rising, a raising, an ascension, a surfacing at long last with flailing arms and great gulps of air. And then it is over and I am vibrating, my beard dripping with beer and laughter, contributing to the cacophony. I belong here, if only for now, and it is wonderful. 

The word for it is something like home but I do not know, and dare not say.  

I am living. 

Drew @ The Great Wizoo: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mcuDLkuq580&list=UUjFXDa_UtXlZTplGGYfCGRA