Ventured into the Slipstream

Happy birthday, Van Morrison!

Slipstream

I love the word slipstream, to feel the soft s on the tongue, the hiss of air, hear Van Morrison's if I ventured in the slipstream and I thought about it, the slipstream, when I thought about Sophie tonight. Sophie is sleeping a lot lately, sleeping soundly and peacefully and while it might be because of the marijuana, it might be because she is resting, her brain is resting. She is resting.  A slipstream is defined as a stream of air forced backwards by a propeller or the area of reduced pressure behind a fast-moving object. I thought of Sophie when I read the word slipstream, and she might be in the slipstream or she might be the fast-moving object behind which we, the unknowing, the relieved (she isn't seizing!) stream, in the slipstream, an area of reduced pressure. I'm thinking these things and singing in my head, in silence easy.





Listen to Astral Weeks here.

Sweet Thing

 And I will stroll the merry way and jump the hedges first
and I will drink the clear clean water for to quench my thirst
And I shall watch the ferry boats and they'll get high
on a bluer ocean against tomorrow's sky.
And I will never grow so old again
And I will walk and talk in gardens all wet with rain

Oh, sweet thing, sweet thing
My, my, my, my, my sweet thing --

Van Morrison wails it here.