Sifting Through The Snow

Think about death. I did, those moments when I was attempting to hurl myself out the second story window in Amagansett. Think about all the things you've ever heard making sense. They did, for those moments. Think about the meaning of your life, and the universe, and those thousand times you stared into the sun until it burned. I saw it all come together in the faces of my friends. Think about everything meeting nothing in sheer panic, and nothingness exploding into a thousand prophecies too quick to scream or whisper. I saw it all that night. When I Can Fly does drugs, there's no recovery.

We saw it all, and wandering back through the bloody Island sunset, it all made sense in stillness. Jumping police barricades on New Years. Pissing on a cop. Watching the ball drop while ten billion voices drowned out the lure of the future. Rockclimbing in the dark under the Montauk lighthouse, together in the moment. Stickering and stenciling all of Broadway from 116th down to the Battery in one mad march. Collapsing at the end of it all, unable to move, or face the day. When I Can Fly lives, it's with a passion that destroys.

I wish you had been there, and maybe some of you were. Feeling it with us in your own ways. ODIE, NZ, ARCS, BIG ANT, and EVAONEZ have since returned to higher education. LIZROCKER has fled to London. The FIXER maintains his nefarious enterprises in New York. We've got ten thousand plans, and maybe some will come true. Recognize and Repent. A new sticker, productions up and down the East Coast. Leaving for Europe in May. Then decisions, and finding the real that really lasts.

And me, I'm tired and beaten and more hopeful than I've ever been. Do you hear those muffled drums? The slow rattle of a thousand cans tapping themselves? You're listening to the revolution. Live it well.