Salt Lake City

Yesterday C. surprised me with a birthday trip into the mountains, and I spent most of the flight gazing out the window, wondering how I could have ever taken this view for granted: the tiny winter trees and miniature snow-covered houses, the rivers of headlights and taillights. The mountains out there in the dark. And later at night: a car drifts down a highway like a ghost, and there’s a perfect pool of light from a lone sodium lamp in a parking lot. I find so much peace in the electrified grids of cities. From this altitude, our civilization looks so safe and orderly, even sane.

Nine years sober today. There were times I couldn’t even dream of nine days. Or hours. Proof there’s such a thing as grace. If you’re struggling, please reach out to someone. (I’m here.)

Programming note: I’ve resumed my monthly newsletter, which stitches together bits and bobs of this journal to create a rough portrait of a month.

Vainqueur – Elevation

Elevations | Chain Reaction, 1996 | More Vainqueur
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