Kevin Carrel Footer

Author: KCF

  • In search of song

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    by

    KCF
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    These days, what excites me is music. It is almost the only thing I care about. Making it. Listening to it. Living through it.

  • Warriors

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    KCF
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    We accumulate scars. Where once I fretted about losing my innocence, I now cherish the wounds and how they transfigure me. Each scar is a battle faced squarely, engaged and survived. I am still here. I have not run. In our scars I can trace our journey.

  • Solace

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    KCF
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    In the lonely apartment, where I sometimes take refuge, there is solace if you know where to look for it. It is not to be found in the emptiness, of course. It is to be found in the fullness that becomes evident when one listens.

  • Other people’s stories

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    KCF
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    I listen to other peoples’ stories and imperceptibly they become mine. It is as if I were compiling an encyclopedia of stories. I settle into a seat at the corner café, open a newspaper or begin a conversation with a stranger and their stories – whether I want them to or not – become a…

  • The journey to your ear

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    KCF
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    (published 28 March 2010 in The Buenos Aires Herald) In the old days, after the artist, it was about the instrument. That’s why people would go to such lengths to steal a Stradivarius. Today, in the era of amplified and recorded sound, much of the action takes place once the sound leaves the instrument and…

  • The other side of the night

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    KCF
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    My only salvation is the love of a woman who lifts me in her arms and wraps me in her perfume and carries me to the other side of the night.

  • Unkempt words

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    KCF
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    I wander in this forest of words. I seek. I squander. I unleash. These are my words: strong, guileless, unkempt, earnest. Sometimes they are the meaning of life; other times, the scrapheap. They can be the way forward or the exquisite distraction. Just so much hot air, the elixir of love or the blood of…

  • Perhaps

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    KCF
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    A life is an endless chain of perhaps. Perhaps — had I followed that scent down the dark alley — I would have met the primordial seductress and we would have wrestled lovingly amid the garbage cans and refuse until our bodies were shrunken vestiges of their former selves. Perhaps I would have passed through…

  • Storm gifts

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    KCF
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    On the waterfront here, every storm is cause for a party. Most of the adults I spoke to can remember the morning when, following several days of storms that kept all the fishermen in port, the sun broke through revealing a morning that looked like God’s first: all splendor and reflections and bathed in a…