Is that all there is?
Is that all there is?
If that's all there is, my friend
than let’s keep dancing
Let’s break out the booze and have a ball
If that’s all… there is
- Peggy Lee
There were a few nights where the passage from dusk to dawn was something like an elemental journey… where situations, emotions and actions could change tenor on a dime… slingshot from joviality to mayhem to fear to calm... these were nights where nothing much happened in the world beyond the playgrounds of music, weed, beer, etc… but among such common elements there was a dare of sorts — all teetered on the edge of an abyss.
These nights ended with the light of dawn creeping over a fatigued face. A face at the tail-end of a spectacular bender. The face of a figure awash in that moment, hangover incipient, where one is witness to an edge between realities. A moment which arrives drunk on itself and dizzy with a will to maintain.
This face is not unlike the face of some early primitive, staring up at the night sky. Defiant of the endless canopy stretched high above his brief gesture. His is a face that is bloodied-but-unbowed. A face giddy at the terror of an open possibility: of an infinite moment. On his face I place a harlequin-death-mask to best show his emotion in its raw being. In its elemental grace. He lives in the Frozen Moment. A moment that arrives like a single frame of film.
It clatters toward the dawn, fumbles dizzily at the edge and rallies stubbornly...
Neither looking back nor forward.
