Tuesday, July 14, 2009


There should be rules about reading over old blogger posts. One never wants to be reminded what an idiot you were.

So i figure i'll start this off by explaining this solemn venture's given name.

Theres this man named Dave Eggers. He writes. You know, snippets, ramblings, novels. Stuff. There are plenty of people who do that. But the way the man writes. Like every sentence is of the utmost importance, full of glory and quiet contemplation, last words snatched from the lips of dying men.

He's pretty cool, so i snatched this title from him until I can come up with something better.

After finishing any of his longer works, he gets sort of stuck in my head. You end up thinking and feeling in his narration, like every moment spent in the sun in drunken in through your skin and every moment is something profound and wonderful.

Anyway in one specific text he talks about a tribe called the jumping people. The jumping people live somewhere in south america. Chile? Argentina? Take your pick. Picture green rolling hills, admist windy peaks, clear blue south american skies, white stone and brilliantly colored fabrics. They're scattered now, across the continent, blood watered down and running through the veins of thousand unintelligable descendants.

These jumping people had slightly different views on souls. We usually picture souls as light airy things, glowing and etheral. The Jumping People had souls like mountains. They believed that their ancestors all lived on in their souls, compounding and passed through the blood, until each person had giant boulders of souls, full of the collective knowledge, pain, and happiness of lifetimes. There were some who could climb or tunnel through their mountains and some who could not. Regardless all carried the weight.

The jumping people also believed that they were destined to fly. They would see the birds around their mountain villages and they knew they were supposed to do that too. But they couldn't, with such heavy mountains inside of them. So they thought and they studied and figured the trick was air. Birds were just always swallowing air which was keeping them up. Wings were just sort of turning things, like axels, but not the wheels. So they jumping people would run around jumping with their mouths open, leaping off cliffs, hoping that in two generations, maybe three, they'd have enough air in their mountains that they could float away too.

So when the people came, and there are always people who come, to fight wars and take their land, the jumping people weren't terribly concerned. They weren't to attatched to their stuff anyway. And from all that constant running and jumping they were fast. God were they fast. They just packed up and ran. And when the people got there, it is said there was a phrase carved into the living rock of the mountain where they lived. Now its been translated back and forth between the Jumping People language and spanish, finally back to English, so it may not be quite right, but its generally considered a good thing to leave carved behind on a rock.


So umm yeah. This blog is for Kiera. More generally for us. We're always running around from place to place taking care of our own things and I thought we should have a better method of keeping in touch. So I want you to post stories here whenever you want, snippets about your lives, pictures music anything. And when your sitting around procrastinating just sit down and read. I think we're so awesome, we're bound to churn out something pretty damn good.

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