stop counterculturalism now

The sun is always, always setting, somewhere, someplace. Visit Eternal Sunset to see a live image of a special sunset somewhere (via a network of webcams around the world).

"You realize the sun doesn't go down, it's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round..."

Austin blogger talking about a new Kurt Cobain documentary. The soundtrack is by Ben Gibbard of Deathcab and Postal Service fame. And the soundtrack "may be the best mix CD of the year."

The "Duchenne smile", after the researcher Guillaume Duchenne, is the most studied, and involves the movement of both the zygomaticus major muscle near the mouth and the orbicularis oculi muscle near the eyes. An example of the smile is shown in the girl's smile in the middle of the page. It is believed that the Duchenne smile is only produced as an involuntary response to genuine emotion, and is therefore what one could call the "genuine" smile. Due to the involvement of the muscle near the eyes, it is sometimes said that one can tell whether or not a smile is "real" by whether or not it "reaches the eyes".

The other day I wanted to write something about opening doors, closing doors, walking down pathways that were never meant to be taken and making choices with some sort of conviction that the ground under our feet is our ground. I sent messages to friends and ex-lovers hoping to capture them all in a web of security like I was a loving spider in need. What is a life without intimacy other than a prison? What happens when all is gone, even loneliness? What is beyond emptiness? What will make a man of me? Opening doors or closing them? And why must everything be perfect, even the punctuation? The stars in the sky are romantic and cause bleeding hearts but so do guitar strings, and the thump and sizzle of falling stars against the brilliant sky can kill.

Serenity kills (the spirit of an artist). A closed door can prevent a writer from choosing a theme. Writing, in the absence of a theme, is masturbatory. Can that be right? I do not know; the word fits the sentence and I am too lazy, with too many closed doors, to complete the metaphor.

I need to smoke a flower of ash and drink my coffee with cream if I am going to make progress. The devil told me so (and all of our modern heroes would have agreed). There is only one way to allow this to happen and there are many compromising opportunities of which to be wary. It is one thing to be charming and yet another to walk the narrow path. I want 'I Am' on my side and words to stop fumbling out of me. I want the purple on the horizon to knock me down following the cascading shockwave of the reformation. Prayers in the evening, prayers in the morning, prayers in the afternoon; the only way. I loved you when we sat in the intense heat of the silent film houses. I loved you in black. I dreampt of you in white. I loved you on the dawn of Color and Sound when we tried to cross the diamond sea.

Some things happen just to show us who we are. Insoluble chemistry. Yes, these are just phrases that I string together (of course) and I (never) censor myself to make sure the (true) meaning comes through. It should come clean in the wash. Brilliance should be translucent. These are arguments I have with myself when I really need to speak to my lawyer. He is grounded in the way that I am not. My brother, my friend, to battle we go (or perhaps to the bar, instead). To really fight the battle is to lose the way. And to lose the war is to regain oneself.

In between certain dreams I used to have, in the crawl space, in the nape of your neck, in the way the sun goes down on me, gently, I sit and read the warning labels in the red [sandy] sky above me. It's in between those soft, subtle behaviors that brighten our dusty mornings that it all really happens. When you come in through the door I left open, when you spit toothpaste in the sink, when you wear your head like that, when you blow it all away.

When I almost cry faintly, out of exhaustion, and sink into the good pillow, I feel you slide reach and fumble towards me. It still happens when I think about you. The clouds become objects and everything comes clean. The lime (on my lips) twists like the decorative piece in the center of every child's favorite marble. The cup overflows.

I know what it is. It's slow motion.

It's waking up next to you. It's those foolish thoughts like: this will never end (and you will never know). It's knowing that there is no mystery because all the walls have come down. It's walking, naked, in the twilight and accepting the ordinary moments in this extraordinary place. It's writing about blowjobs (in code) instead of love, because love writes itself. But mostly, it's one of those intractable tastes that can never be memorized.

It's (something like) an orgasm. It's better than the end of the world.

Enter my code here to see my ACL lineup: ACL2332907

My complaints:

1) Muse and Arctic Monkeys (two of the best modern British rock bands) are playing at the same time on Saturday evening. A genius idea. They should sack those responsible, and not in a good way.

2) Sunday, STS9 is playing at the same time as my new Brit rock find, The National. There is not an sufficiently angry emoticon for this but I am going to go with >:[

3) Later Sunday evening, Wilco and My Morning Jacket are playing at the same time. I imagine fans of either band would probably like the other if they were exposed to them.

W.T.Fuck?™ Oh wells, I'll still have a blast.

Interpol, Wednesday, Sep 26th @ Stubb's. Doors at 7:00p. Who's with me? Who's with me?

Interpol is both quiet and loud, with massivly understated lyrics. And a great bass player. Verily.

We marshal in the days of longing
We tremble like anyone's children
And wink towards the fire
I am erring on this side of caution
Betraying no other symptom
But girl you shake it right
I will bounce you on the lap of silence
We will free love to the beats of science

...but you can sell advanced weaponry to opposing groups who are entrenched in massive regional conflicts.

Just in case you aren't paying attention to these types of things (You aren't paying attention), the U.S. just approved $30 billion in military aid to Israel to smooth over the $20 billion in American weaponry we aim to sell to Arab states in the region. Our goal?: "to assist moderate Sunni Arab states that, like Israel, oppose Shiite Iran’s reach for regional supremacy and nuclear weapons." (NYTimes link)

I'm not really an alarmist, I just think everyone should know where the weapons are coming from... I think these deals have implications for our image around the world and I assume it must effect our diplomatic efforts in the region as well. As such, I think the sale of armament should be more prominent in the public discourse about foreign policy in our country.

Why does it seem like no one is paying attention?

"Where have you been hidin' out lately, honey?
You can't dress trashy till you spend a lot of money."

I think Ralph Waldo Emerson has convinced me of the virtues of Self-Reliance. I have edited his writing a good deal to compensate for our modern American attention span (still, you are welcome to read it in full some later day when you have access to a double espresso--we must, after all, remember to be kind to ourselves).

"To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men,--that is genius... A man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within, more than the lustre of the firmament of bards and sages. Yet he dismisses without notice his thought, because it is his. In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts; they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty...

Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept the place the divine providence has found for you, the society of your contemporaries, the connection of events. Great men have always done so, and confided themselves childlike to the genius of their age, betraying their perception that the absolutely trustworthy was seated at their heart, working through their hands, predominating in all their being. And we are now men, and must accept in the highest mind the same transcendent destiny...

Whoso would be a man, must be a nonconformist. He who would gather immortal palms must not be hindered by the name of goodness, but must explore if it be goodness. Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind. Absolve you to yourself, and you shall have the suffrage of the world... I am ashamed to think how easily we capitulate to badges and names, to large societies and dead institutions. Every decent and well-spoken individual affects and sways me more than is right. I ought to go upright and vital, and speak the rude truth in all ways...

...The great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude...

But why should you keep your head over your shoulder? Why drag about this corpse of your memory, lest you contradict somewhat you have stated in this or that public place? Suppose you should contradict yourself; what then? It seems to be a rule of wisdom never to rely on your memory alone, scarcely even in acts of pure memory, but to bring the past for judgment into the thousand-eyed present, and live ever in a new day. In your metaphysics you have denied personality to the Deity, yet when the devout motions of the soul come, yield to them heart and life though they should clothe God with shape and color. Leave your theory, as Joseph his coat in the hand of the harlot, and flee."
Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance

Warren Ellis, regarding Philip K. Dick, on the Suicide Girls site. Thanks be to Jeff for this interesting, if very strange, summary of PKDick's later, more insane, years.

I finally added More small town Germany, Luxembourg, and Bruges to my flickr photo album. No more until next month when I can upload again. I still have more Bruges, Amsterdam, and my return to London to add.

I also learned that Chris Martin of Coldplay wrote another of their songs that I like, Gravity. But if you liked either of those, their best song is Ashes.

The sky is green and when we collaborate it turns blue or red (indeed, yes, it does). Still, no matter what my day brings the moon continues to move the oceans around with it's steady, steamy, undeniable pull.

How can I regret the lash of the whip or the burdens of the endless reflections of time when birds surround me and dive deep, cocking their head to the side and watching as college students rush or able by...

We share one mind, one heart, one vision. We are loved despite great faults even as tensions build despite great opportunities for justice and change. We must adapt and, still, we must fail. For in the end, the only quality of virtue we must cultivate is to open ourselves to the awkward uncontrollable roughness from our past. To open every door, to let the holy spirit in, is all we can do.

Whether to war, or to peace, we will spin and shake every step of the way. It is undeniable. It is true. At this moment in time, who do you belong to? Who touches your heart? You were made of magic before your mother's first smile and you were made of love before your first kiss. Come down from heaven for us, you are more than merely the perfection of movement. Come home. Come back to what you know.

Never mind the title. Pipes, water balloons and rainbows are not on my mind. I have been sifting through websites related to educational training I will be experiencing a year from now and trying to decide which programs to apply for. I am sure this is a good thing, in a way, but it makes me double-think my career path and future goals. The problem isn't figuring out what I want to do (this has been clear to me for years) or even deciding what paths to avoid (this has become crystal clear in the more immediate past). The problem is that there are opportunities available for training and education that interest me but appear to lead down a dark path toward the places I do not want to go. I really should not isolate myself to only opportunities consistent with that which I surely know I want in the future. However, my desire to take risks and stretch my comfort zone is hindered because few programs in my search that will challenge me in that way appear to be a good fit.

I should probably relax a bit and remind myself that this is a year of education (or perhaps two at the most) and I'll continue to shape my career for the rest of my life. But I do really want to make the most of this opportunity. To transition from the student I am to the actual professional being I will be is a good thing. It just takes so much damn planning.

(One never has to plan for a rainbow.
-- Ultimately, I had to tie that in.
---- I have no self-control.
------ Also, I think I am procrastinating again.
-------- I better stop. Okay, stopping... wait for it... now!)

I've added Prague, Venice, and Munich to my flickr photo album. You could also view as a slideshow, if you like.

I'm starting to wonder why I blog on here. I should be outside with the trees, sunshine, and bier gardens. I should be learning how to use a crossbow and discovering when it is appropriate to light the arrows on fire. Or I should figure out what the secret is of flaming arrows and how they never burn up before they reach their target. Also, I would like to know what Cupid uses on the tip of his arrows of love. Is it natural or supernatural and would it turn out to be poisonous if placed under the tongue with a medicine dropper? Are there really nine love potions or only one?

And why do I toss and turn at night? What is creeping into my dreams when all I remember is something about swimming? And when my arms fall asleep when I lay on them at night, why do I have to rub my shoulders for the feeling to return? My shoulders must block the blood flow. Am I really that tense at night?

If my feet are touching the ground then I know I am able to reach up, up into the sky...


Why does Shiva dance?

Goofy Smoking: via youtube or somewhere

And, Oklahoma now offering Global War on Terrorism license plates:Nice eh?

Words crowd around in my mind and bump into each other
These words have been away, or I have been away
Wandering and stretching my legs and thinking of you
All of you with your dreams and burdens and small hands

Appropriately, I was away walking on cobblestone sidewalks
Snapping pictures of cathedrals and castles
And washing myself in curious closets
The Europeans polite and annoyed by my tourist questions

But now they are back, the words, moving me left and right
And distracting my eyes like a warship on the horizon

~~~

And in my dreams you're alive and you're crying,
As your mouth moves in mine, soft and sweet,
Rings of flowers round your eyes and I’ll love you
For the rest of your life (when you’re ready)

Brother see we are one and the same,
And you left with your head filled with flames
And you watched as your brains
Fell out through your teeth,
Push the pieces in place,
Make your smile sweet to see
Don’t you take this away
I’m still wanting my face on your cheek

Neutral Milk Hotel