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unearthing subterranean media since 2009

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About 1 – Published until March 2011

So, you know how giant falcons are, right? Vicious. Deadly. Cunning. Their ferocity is particularly stunning when they are forced to protect their young. Protect their young from those seeking to steal, tame, raise, train, and harness their great strength.

Talons forward… roaring towards the ground, her fury rivaled only by her great speed, her cry shattering the very rocks upon which I ran… The time was upon me.

My life flashed before my eyes.

The time I told Johnny Skynyrd that I could beat him in a footrace, tripped on my stylish new shoes and fell flat on my face just before the finish line. Going all the way with Alicia the only redhead in class in her parents’ boathouse that hot, sticky summer (and the song that was playing, her giggling as I wiped sweat from my brow). I was nervous. It was the summer of firsts, and she was mine. Buzzing crickets strummed their perfect chords so typical of those steamy southern nights and added to the magic and mystery of our nightly adventures –  our exploration of abandoned coal mines and industrial rooftops. It was the South we loved, and it inspired us, and it was collapsing around us like a dying super nova.

She went to art school in Baltimore that fall, and we didn’t talk for years. That is, until we both moved to Chicago and started Tremble*. (*a blog.*) (*this blog.)

I was going somewhere with that story about stealing a baby giant falcon from its mother, but I got EXTREMELY sidetracked… an honest mistake to make after half your brain has been maimed by the razor sharp talons of a furious giant falcon hell bent on preserving the life of her last eyas.

My skull punctured, clutching the nestling, I tumbled over a sharp precipice and landed, the branches giving way a bit under my weight, amongst the canopy of the forest below on my back (my future falcon-weapon safe in outstretched arms.) I lost consciousness.

“This straw is so soft… so… nest like…. it’s so much like a … like… a nest…. a nest… a nest… A NEST!!!!!” I snapped from my sleep with a start, my eyes adjusting to the fading light, my fears confirmed. I had been returned to the scene of my crime. I was not bound. It was silent. I peered over the edge of the enormous nest. The distance to the ground was nauseating. Barely visible on the horizon, a dot at first, and slowly taking the shape of a giant falcon, she hurtled towards me at unthinkable speeds. I feared the worst.

She stopped in midair and hovered above the roomy and spacious nest. A fierce wind beat against my face as she flapped her wings. From my vantage point in the soft, soft straw, I could see the majestic falcon’s beautiful beady eyes, and her heart. Those eyes told me her inspirational story.

And so, since 2009, the Tremble Collective has sought to promote that which inspires.

Full circle, baby.

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