here's to the nights

WE FELT ALIVE.
Mayday and Aran get into some crazy weird shit. Sometimes it's random and awesome. Sometimes it's stuff we'd only repeat drunk. But we're best friends. It's how we do. ...And then we wax poetic about it.

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More Mayday: under long island skies
And More Aran: like sinking sands

Posted on Sunday, 31 May 2009

it’s always been my opinion that if “god” is anywhere, it isn’t in the clouds. but something parted them for us that day. maybe we did it ourselves. eighty miles an hour down a florida interstate- ten times faster in ourselves. twenty in our mouths. and beyond measurement itself in our determination. loops in the road carried us closer than farther from that shaft, that promise, that light. we never made it. never found the spot the sun (or our hearts) pointed to. but we had a hell of a time trying. |Aran|

it’s always been my opinion that if “god” is anywhere, it isn’t in the clouds. but something parted them for us that day. maybe we did it ourselves. eighty miles an hour down a florida interstate- ten times faster in ourselves. twenty in our mouths. and beyond measurement itself in our determination. loops in the road carried us closer than farther from that shaft, that promise, that light. we never made it. never found the spot the sun (or our hearts) pointed to. but we had a hell of a time trying.
|Aran|

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