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life stream
subscribeTuesday, September 18
because blog posts about storms and anger are boring, dull, and impersonal...
Don't bother saying you're sorry / Why don't you come in
Smoke all my cigarettes again / Every time I get no further
How long has it been? / Come on in now, wipe your feet on my dreams
You take up my time / Like some cheap magazine
When I could have been learning something
Oh well, you know what I mean, oh / I've done this before
And I will do it again / Come on and kill me baby
While you smile like a friend / Oh and I'll come running
Just to do it again / You are the last drink I never should have drunk
You are the body hidden in the trunk / You are the habit I can't seem to kick
You are my secrets on the front page every week
You are the car I never should have bought
You are the dream I never should have caught
You are the cut that makes me hide my face
You are the party that makes me feel my age
Like a car crash I can see but I just can't avoid
Like a plane I've been told I never should board
Like a film that's so bad but I've got to stay till the end
Let me tell you now: it's lucky for you that we're friends.
Like A Friend by Pulp
Don't bother saying you're sorry / Why don't you come in
Smoke all my cigarettes again / Every time I get no further
How long has it been? / Come on in now, wipe your feet on my dreams
You take up my time / Like some cheap magazine
When I could have been learning something
Oh well, you know what I mean, oh / I've done this before
And I will do it again / Come on and kill me baby
While you smile like a friend / Oh and I'll come running
Just to do it again / You are the last drink I never should have drunk
You are the body hidden in the trunk / You are the habit I can't seem to kick
You are my secrets on the front page every week
You are the car I never should have bought
You are the dream I never should have caught
You are the cut that makes me hide my face
You are the party that makes me feel my age
Like a car crash I can see but I just can't avoid
Like a plane I've been told I never should board
Like a film that's so bad but I've got to stay till the end
Let me tell you now: it's lucky for you that we're friends.
Monday, September 17
The best new invention of ACL 2007:
Creme de Cacao and Dr. Pepper
Call it a 'Strange Delicious'
It is reminiscent of a Milky Way
Creme de Cacao and Dr. Pepper
Call it a 'Strange Delicious'
It is reminiscent of a Milky Way
Sunday, September 16
Yes, I am drunk on rum and old stories. But beyond the keystrokes, I want to tell the truth to someone who knows something about old myths and parables.
On Existentialism: "The purpose of of fiction isn't to entertain, it's to to tell the truth in a way that people may understand." -Me
On a tangent from a digression: "All I do is loaf and fish, and still I make money" -Jeremy quoting Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman
On Existentialism: "The purpose of of fiction isn't to entertain, it's to to tell the truth in a way that people may understand." -Me
On a tangent from a digression: "All I do is loaf and fish, and still I make money" -Jeremy quoting Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman
Video of the Week
Wednesday, September 12
Anyone excited about Muse being at ACL again?
Tuesday, September 11
A Wrinkle in Time author, Madeleine L'Engle, Dead at 88.
If you are out of Harry Potter books, you should pick up her stuff. Much more intelligent with just as much magical storytelling. I picked up AWiT about three years ago and loved it just as much as when I was eight.
If you are out of Harry Potter books, you should pick up her stuff. Much more intelligent with just as much magical storytelling. I picked up AWiT about three years ago and loved it just as much as when I was eight.
Monday, September 10
Strange events.
A drunk angry individual, which I think of as more of a Toblerone than a Butterfinger or Baby Ruth, bruised my arm following a series of events where I tried to prevent a fight and just-help-people-to-chill-out. Movement has returned to my arm even though it still hurts, but it got me thinking about times when I am angry. It's so wasteful. It fills up your mind. It's tragic. It's circular. I have contempt and I'd rather be thinking about that-look-in-her-eyes.
I think these are strange events. But perhaps they are very normal. But something is amiss.
Before the Toblerone experience, I completed round one of my search for What-Comes-Next after this year of school. Along came a feeling of peace and serenity. Then came the urge to obsess and do more work towards my future goals. Anxiety comes and goes and I need to get back to the gym. I went last week. It was great.
Other than that I've been piling daisies on daisies in the hopes of achieving something special. And I've been thinking too much and too little.
A drunk angry individual, which I think of as more of a Toblerone than a Butterfinger or Baby Ruth, bruised my arm following a series of events where I tried to prevent a fight and just-help-people-to-chill-out. Movement has returned to my arm even though it still hurts, but it got me thinking about times when I am angry. It's so wasteful. It fills up your mind. It's tragic. It's circular. I have contempt and I'd rather be thinking about that-look-in-her-eyes.
I think these are strange events. But perhaps they are very normal. But something is amiss.
Before the Toblerone experience, I completed round one of my search for What-Comes-Next after this year of school. Along came a feeling of peace and serenity. Then came the urge to obsess and do more work towards my future goals. Anxiety comes and goes and I need to get back to the gym. I went last week. It was great.
Other than that I've been piling daisies on daisies in the hopes of achieving something special. And I've been thinking too much and too little.
Public Service Announcement
Thursday, September 6
Ewww... popcorn lung.
Monday, September 3
I feel intense and cumulative, additive, expanded but not expansive. I am the frayed black t-shirt you love, a child connecting to a new touch, an adult stretching, excited (like a child) about new possibilities.
I feel like I might explode. My heart strains toward the thunder and rain coming from the coffee house window. I think my soul might break. Any moment a new reality may penetrate the horizon and flood me with a torrent of novel experience.
Reaching out, I know I can touch the rain. I am lucky, I am privileged. The rain is everyone and the rain is everywhere, connecting the mineral nitrogen in the earth to the photosynthetic plants (reaching for the missing sun).
The rain is clean. It is composed. It knows what it wants to be in the future, it knows where it is going (down, mostly, but sometimes sideways), and it knows why: to feed the earth, to fulfill and intensify all life on earth.
All that matters now is that it is raining. All that matters is that my mind wanders. All that matters is where I stand, what I touch, where I go. All that matters are the moments when you break free and touch the rain, alone or in my sight. The waves continue long after you leave the current. Remember how they move through you.
The forceful rain is now taking a turn, lilting upward towards the sky. I am not solid, not today. Something has changed. I am formless and nameless. Give me a name. Bridge an ideal and hold apart all perfection. Hold me and contain me. Tie me up, anchor me, feed me, or I may float away with the tiniest raindrop penetrating and extending the poetry in my soul.
I feel like I might explode. My heart strains toward the thunder and rain coming from the coffee house window. I think my soul might break. Any moment a new reality may penetrate the horizon and flood me with a torrent of novel experience.
Reaching out, I know I can touch the rain. I am lucky, I am privileged. The rain is everyone and the rain is everywhere, connecting the mineral nitrogen in the earth to the photosynthetic plants (reaching for the missing sun).
The rain is clean. It is composed. It knows what it wants to be in the future, it knows where it is going (down, mostly, but sometimes sideways), and it knows why: to feed the earth, to fulfill and intensify all life on earth.
All that matters now is that it is raining. All that matters is that my mind wanders. All that matters is where I stand, what I touch, where I go. All that matters are the moments when you break free and touch the rain, alone or in my sight. The waves continue long after you leave the current. Remember how they move through you.
The forceful rain is now taking a turn, lilting upward towards the sky. I am not solid, not today. Something has changed. I am formless and nameless. Give me a name. Bridge an ideal and hold apart all perfection. Hold me and contain me. Tie me up, anchor me, feed me, or I may float away with the tiniest raindrop penetrating and extending the poetry in my soul.
