Mystery Solved

Yesterday I had dinner with my mom. At one point in our conversation I brought up something that had been bouncing around in my mind for some time.

"Mom, people tell me I'm a mystery. I don't get it."

Without batting an eye she countered, "Denny, maybe that's because you speak in riddles."

"huh. thanks mom"

Call Me Kerouac

On thursday I drove to Orange County to join in the company of friends in watching what I deemed as a significant and unfortunate milestone in the waning of my childhood... the end of Harry Potter.

The next morning I drove to Phoenix where I enjoyed time spent well with another dear friend over ping pong and air conditioning and beers and family friends and bananagrams and poolside conversations.

Between Orange County and Phoenix and San Diego were many hours spent in solitude. It was time for new music to be discovered and old songs to be sang to no one but myself and long searching prayers and way too many pee stops.

Somehow I ended up with nothing but driving pictures. Which, by the way, is probably more dangerous than texting and should be outlawed immediately.

On The Beauty Of Broken Time

On top of my bookcase I have three watches sitting on their display stands. The hands of each watch read 5:41.

            

It’s 10:33.

While I was in Spain all three of these watches drained their batteries. At first I simply added “watch batteries” to my to-do list … and then I wore one. I strapped the wristband on and left the house with a watch that was only accurate twice daily.

            

I’ve been home for over two months now, and the watches still have dead batteries. After wearing them for a while I was enlightened to their ironic beauty. They are a reminder that humanity takes time, a construct of our own minds, much too seriously. They remind me to not worry about the days slipping by. I’m growing old, but it has less to do with mechanical gears ticking in circles and more to do with the summer sun kissing my skin and the wind from the sea whispering, sometimes roaring, its love to me. The wrinkles on my face aren't from the spinning hands of clocks, but rather from deep, belly-aching laughter and honest smiles and sharp tears.

            

It’s a reminder to stop thinking about there and start focusing on here. There is only here, and there is only now.

            

A broken watch means you can stop time and live in this moment forever. It reminds you that this is the only moment that exists. There is no future. There is no past. Now is all that exists. There is only today.

           

            

The only moment in eternity is this one.

My God, It's Lonely Out There

Perspective

Fourth of July, from the outside looking in.

You Are a Tourist

Death Cab For Cutie released their new album, Codes & Keys, not long ago. The whole album is really good, but You Are a Tourist really struck a chord with me.

Listen and feel it too.

You Are a Tourist from Denny Moody on Vimeo.

"And if you feel just like a tourist
In the city you were born
Then it's time to go
And define your destination
There's so many different places to call home

Cause when you find yourself the villain
In the story you have written
It's plain to see
That sometimes the best intentions
Are in need of redemption
Would you agree?
If so please show me"

Surf Thugs

On Monday we got bored, so we decided to take the ski out to the point to see if we could find some surf. 

Before we left we thought a thug picture was in order.

When we got to the dock we realized three grown men on one jet ski is about as far from thug as you can get.