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Organized ramblings, for your convenience.
I was pointing out to sayyes the other day I just don’t post much any more. My diagnosis for why? There’s just hardly a point for independent posts any more as they would all be the same.
I woke up today and went to work.
I woke up, went to work.
I got up, went me to work.
I woke up-
You get the idea. Oh, certainly sometimes there are variations:
I woke up exactly at 9 AM today, which is when I am supposed to be at my desk.
I ran out to the car today and fell into a drift of snow.
One of my only friends at work, my mentor, left for another job.
After my workout at the gym I walked into the bathroom and my nose exploded with blood.
Sometimes I have conversations like this at work:
Me: My throat just made a weird noise.
Pause.
Coworker: Wow. Thanks for sharing.
Me: I just wanted to include you on this incredible journey I call my life.
So, yeah, my life varies from day to day.
For instance today I had a harrowing drive to work in the snow. I pulled into my office to park and promptly parked in a giant snow drift.
I thought about the decision a moment and decided, “Hmm.”
By that point, however, I was already stuck.
I then spent the next 40 minutes at my desk, while working -WE SWEARS-, obsessing double-plus about going to a Bright Eyes concert.
I really enjoy Bright Eyes. I mean, hardcore. I mean, I think he comes off as over-pretentious; like he wholeheartedly believes his press and everything Rollingstone has to say about him (note: Rollingstone wants to have a million Conor babies), but he’s interesting. – and since he has been recording since the age of 13 and has been dubbed Indie Rock’s Genius, he never had a chance to not be a pompous ass, did he?
Bright Eyes: Oh no, my earlier work? Pshaw. I can hardly listen to it any more. It pains me.
He says wearing a black turtleneck sipping his latte.
Also, he’s Dylanesque, says RS.
Me: Dylan! Pinch me!
I am torn about this concert ordeal.
A. No concert actually happens, you know, in my city. It would be a good plane flight anywhere.
Memo to self: Why the hell did I leave Chicago again?
More importantly.
B. This leg of the tour, the one which is possible for me, features music from his album “Digital Ashes for a Digital Urn” or whatever the fork it is called, the sister album to “I’m Wide Awake It’s Morning.” Wide Awake is the album I love. Great work on it. Ashes? I don’t know. It’s his experimental electronica work.
Call me conventional, but I like the folk stuff which makes up Awake. I don’t know about electronica.
Note of Noninterest: he’s playing his folk tour in Australia. Why? It’s so not fair.
C. Some other third thing.
Anyhow. This obsessive quest of mine went on forever. I had my dad looking up flights via email. I looked up the theatre. Checked tickets. Read album reviews.
So much more fun than work.
When my work day finally ended (oh GOD did it take forever today), I went on a slew of fun-time errands, which included, though was not exclusive to- going to the store to check up on a DVD and accidentally purchasing two Bob Dylan cds.
What the fork, mates?
I bought Blonde on Blonde and Bringing It All Back Home for I am still riding high on my Dylan kick, but my current collection is running somewhat thin. I already own the Dylan masterworks- ie Blood on the Tracks and Highway 61, so now I am shooting for the second tier works.
Unlike the Beatles, who for the most part, were always on their game for albums and split just when Paul’s music began to suck eggs, Bob just kept going, from being good, genius, to mediocre, OMG what the hell?, to classic and beyond. So you really have to be careful with what you buy. You have raw, unadulterated genius on records like “Blood on the Tracks” but then you have things like “Knocked Out Loaded” – just listen to the name! – Like I needed that Bob visual anywhere NEAR my conscious mind, thank you very much. Then Bob had his glam phase (shudder), his Christian phase (SHUDDER)- though the latter apparently resulted in a somewhat decent work (Slow Train Coming, feature song, “You’ve Got to Serve Somebody.”)
I am so tired!
Anyhow, jury is out. I think I am liking “Bringing It All Back Home” better than Blonde. On Blonde, which opens with the song whose chorus runs, “Everybody must get stoned!”, Bob’s voice is particularly off. He sounds stoned/drunk/105 years old, to the X-treme, perhaps even, dare I say it?
Knocked Out Loaded.
Let me complain about the media for a moment. I am so sick of America’s news media. I am so tired of the Terri Schiavo case. It’s not to say my feelings for it have lessened, I think it’s terribly sad, but there was a 8.7 earthquake again in the Indian Ocean (approx. where ever). Do we hear anything about this on American news? No. It’s all Jackson trial (boring celebrity) or Terri (macabre media circus).
Earthquake tragedy, what?
No news station today plays any stories which matters, because no one will watch them. The news is depressing, people don’t like depressing. They like entertainment. So to keep up with the American Idols of the universe, we have to have JACKO! TERRI! SOMEOTHERTHIRDTHING! Stations need viewers to make their numbers. News isn’t about news, it’s about making numbers. How sick and how wrong and yet, how reflective is this of modern society?
I am also horrified by the Schiavo case, because, though 98 percent of people feel it’s time to let that girl die, the 6 dozen protesting pro-lifers, who apparently have nothing else better to do with their time but force their children into symbolic acts of defiance, get constant air time to the rest of the world.
Planet Earth: Not everyone here holds a sign which says “Obey Jesus and repent.”
I can’t even get started on the pomposity of religion eking its wary self into this case.
What I think of religion, synopsis: I don’t like religion. I don’t care for it. I have respect for faith and belief, - spirituality- but there’s a difference between spirituality and organized religion. You can’t organize spirituality. That’s hypocrisy at its best. Morality, belief, faith, none of these things can come from an organized system of belief- which all religions are, they are qualities from within. I rather be without an establishment telling me what is what and hearing everyone- all belief systems for myself, with only my inner heart of hearts to guide me to what I as a HUMAN BEING ONLY feel to be right. This said, I would never ever think poorly or against someone’s system of belief. Just as it is my choice to be peeved by religion, it is someone else’s to embrace it. If a church or temple or mosque or synagog is a place of comfort for someone, if a religion gives them strength or they need to believe in something, I say- power to them! – I only take issue when anyone tries to push their beliefs unto someone else; and this is across the board mind, from missionaries in Dayton Ohio to Bush’s freedom march into the middle east to Bible-thumpers outside Terri S.’s hospice. No one, NO ONE has the right to tell anyone else what to believe, ever. – And NO ONE has the right to condemn others for having different beliefs.
And this is why I take GREAT offense to posters claiming they know what god thinks about this pull-the-plug case. Zealots are so narrow-minded. They can’t even think two ways: If it is a sin against “God” to decide to end this person’s life, it was a sin against “God” to prolong it.
God is such an esoteric phrase anyhow. Like any mortal thing could understand an entity which is said to be able to create universes and life, let alone understand it enough to know what it wants in the case of one existing person.
I don’t even think there is a God like some of these people believe- but if, if, these people involved were so aligned with Jesus/God/Someotherthirdthing and the side of good and had such faith, you would think they would remove all extraneous means of support and leave this girl’s life “in God’s hands.”
P.S. As I have had my fill of News Media and Hollywood films, I have had my fill of the proliferation of religion in this current admin.
Returning to the case in point.
Don’t get me wrong, I do not belittle the parents’ plight. It’s horrid and you feel for them because you know they do as they do out of love, but it’s a selfish love at this point. Even IF their daughter had life before (which I don’t think she did, she existed, but she didn’t live- she was working organs, but not a sentient being) after 13 days of no nourishment? Then to reattach her? What? It’s cruel. They just can’t say goodbye. They love her so much, but they love selfishly. They want her here so they can hug her, kiss her, see- and who can blame them? It’s their baby, their sister, their friend; but they should drop this guise of “it’s what Terri wants, to live!” she doesn’t want it, they do, because they rather hold on to an empty shell of what she was than lose her physical presence.
I am so BORED out of my mind by this. I hope that poor, poor woman would just pass on so the rest of us can move on as well. She can finally leave behind that mortal casing and just-
Well.
Also, can you even begin to fathom the difference which people could make if there was this much protest and concern over real issues like: war, poverty, homelessness?
Today was the anniversary of America’s (read: Bush’s) declaration of war. Hundreds of protests everywhere took place today.
Did you see anything about any of them on your television? I sure the hell didn’t.
Whew. I could ramble forever, but I won’t. I am so tired. I just wrote this sentence: If people truly people it was people
So I think it’s bed time.
P.S. I love my community.
suddenly i was @ 02:15 am
(no feathers)
thursday, march 10, 2005
Aw, alas. I had this huge post planned last night (plotted in the shower!) about religion, which i felt i had to post for no other reason than it was 3 am and it was better than packing my toilet kit.Before I go however, I leave you a parting gift. Oh mine bleeding heart! Here. Yet some more song lyrics, because NO I did NOT just buy a new Dylan CD.
(Silence)
(Cricket)
But no, read these lyrics. If I wasn't leaving I'd upload the song for you guys. I listened to it so many times last night, I was this side of tears. Sara was the name of Dylan's wife, who eventually divorced him (probably rightly so) and Dylan took it hard- publicly. In 1975 Dylan's album, often considered his masterpiece, "Blood on the Tracks" (includes the song "Tangled up in Blue") quite vividly illustrated his emotional turmoil over the ordeal; the songs' emotions ranging from seething anger ("Idiot Wind") to something of wistfulness acceptance in "If You See Her Say Hello."
The following year, 1976, "Desire" was released (this album includes the song "Hurricane," for those of ya who saw the movie). In all of "Blood on the Tracks" the emotion is raw and near the surface, but no one is ever mentioned by name. Everything is strung up in imagery and phrasing. In "Desire" the last track is "Sara" and plainly recalls personal memories and calls to his ex-wife by name. It is so sensitive and so sad and so full of regret when the first "Sara" of the chorus is sung, it is done in such a manner, so drawn out, you can barely understand what name is being sung. I can't believe someone could be so confessional in something so public. Everything is lay to bear and the singer sounds like he's dying.
As Allen Ginsburg says in the leaflet cover, "who woulda thought he'd say it, so everybody'd finally know him, same soul crying vulnerable caught in a body we all are? enough Person revealed to make Whitman's whole nation weep."
And that concludes our 8 am lesson for today. Now, I should I don't know. GET DRESSED or something. Love to the cousbian!
suddenly i was @ 10:18 am
(no feathers)
wednesday, march 9, 2005
I am on a bit of a Bob Dylan kick.
Because you know you want soundfiles. Bob has the best nasal voice.
Bob Caruso
The only point in the film when Dylan just goes too far in the name of rebel without a cause. Really. You imagine TEH BOB to be this quiet sensitive poetic genius, then throughout “Dont Look Back” Dylan comes off as the most nasty person. You’re thinking, “ouch.” He’s full of himself, arrogant, flaunting authority, but it’s slightly humorous, because it really is this grand façade. I mean, the man was good friends with George Harrison, the kindest person in all rockhistory, right? So ya know he’s good on the inside. See George’s song for Bob here .During this soundclip this poor near-toothless his teeth are so bad, balding English reporter for TIME magazine, does something (like sit there? Whatever it is, is off camera) to get on Dylan’s bad side (not a good place to be). Dylan really rips the guy apart. Making perfect sense mind you- but needlessly cruel. Saying only a certain class of people read TIME and take it seriously. It’s not real, he says, the people writing it have too much at stake to write the truth. It’s a good plane read, but it’s useless (at this point the reporter looks like he’s about to cry). Dylan goes on to say despite what others want to peg him as he’s entertainment and nothing he writes has any meaning. This is the final snippet where the reporter makes a feeble jab muttering something about Dylan being a pop star, this is the result.
Who’s this Donovan?
Dylan has this weird preoccupation with Donovan (often considered the over-the-seas Dylan, the author of the song, “Mellow Yellow”) throughout “Dont Look Back.” I think it’s because he’s afraid Donovan will be better than he is. He has his picture on the wall, puts his name into songs at concerts, wonders if he’s come to shows… eventually the two meet and have this little music showdown. Donovan plays a song, then Dylan does. Hoo, Dylan doesn’t take any chances and really out-shines Donovan who looks like a fish out of water thinking, “Oh Jesus, take me now!”
This snippet is Bob first reading up on Donovan in the Daily Mirror. The loud laugh at the end is Joan Beaz, aka the most annoying person in the entire film (takes herself very seriously, goes out of her way to be a free spirit, sings about roses EVERY scene). Dylan is the one really excited about the word, "bloke."
Bob Gurls
If I had been a girl in London in 1965, this would have been me.
Anarchist
Dylan upon learning the papers are calling him an anarchist. Actual cause for pause. Oh, also; it's cool to be a Communist in England.
The Real Truth
I want you to listen to this. This is what Dylan’s “Real Message” is. Listen to it and take it to bed with you. I’m sure it will change your life.
To end, look at this song. They don’t write stuff like this anymore, do they? Say what you will, but as far as song writing goes, no one can quiet create the simmering painting of visual imagery as good ol’ Bob.
They're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row
Cinderella, she seems so easy
"It takes one to know one," she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets
Bette Davis style
And in comes Romeo, he's moaning
"You Belong to Me I Believe"
And someone says," You're in the wrong place, my friend
You better leave"
And the only sound that's left
After the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up
On Desolation Row
Now the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The fortunetelling lady
Has even taken all her things inside
All except for Cain and Abel
And the hunchback of Notre Dame
Everybody is making love
Or else expecting rain
And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing
He's getting ready for the show
He's going to the carnival tonight
On Desolation Row
Now Ophelia, she's 'neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday
She already is an old maid
To her, death is quite romantic
She wears an iron vest
Her profession's her religion
Her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Noah's great rainbow
She spends her time peeking
Into Desolation Row
Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood
With his memories in a trunk
Passed this way an hour ago
With his friend, a jealous monk
He looked so immaculately frightful
As he bummed a cigarette
Then he went off sniffing drainpipes
And reciting the alphabet
Now you would not think to look at him
But he was famous long ago
For playing the electric violin
On Desolation Row
Dr. Filth, he keeps his world
Inside of a leather cup
But all his sexless patients
They're trying to blow it up
Now his nurse, some local loser
She's in charge of the cyanide hole
And she also keeps the cards that read
"Have Mercy on His Soul"
They all play on penny whistles
You can hear them blow
If you lean your head out far enough
From Desolation Row
Across the street they've nailed the curtains
They're getting ready for the feast
The Phantom of the Opera
A perfect image of a priest
They're spoonfeeding Casanova
To get him to feel more assured
Then they'll kill him with self-confidence
After poisoning him with words
And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls
"Get Outa Here If You Don't Know
Casanova is just being punished for going
To Desolation Row"
Now at midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
Then they bring them to the factory
Where the heart-attack machine
Is strapped across their shoulders
And then the kerosene
Is brought down from the castles
By insurance men who go
Check to see that nobody is escaping
To Desolation Row
Praise be to Nero's Neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
And everybody's shouting
"Which Side Are You On?"
And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot
Fighting in the captain's tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers
Between the windows of the sea
Where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much
About Desolation Row
Yes, I received your letter yesterday
(About the time the door knob broke)
When you asked how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they're quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can't read too good
Don't send me no more letters no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row
suddenly i was @ 01:27 am
(no feathers)
sunday, march 6, 2005
This Saturday was the most productive day. For starters, I woke up before it became single PM digits. I had to get my hair cut and my appointment was at 10 am. So as I was gathering myself I ran upstairs in something of a flurry before darting out the door thinking, “I need Bob Dylan music for the car” when I ran into my cat playing with a little dark… something.DIGRESSION:
I rented two movies which I think should terrify anyone when seen being rented with each other. I rented, Bob Dylan’s “Dont Look Back” (the sans apostrophe spelling there is correct, by the bye, that’s what the movie is called) and “Spongebob the Movie.”
I’ve seen “Dont Look Back” a few times, it cracks me up. You imagine Bob to be this quiet genius or something, then you see him in this film being the biggest arse all the time. my favourite is when he HAS A SPAZZ in London because someone threw a glass out the window of some hotel room he was renting.
BOB (with stuffed nasal voice): Where’s the cat that threw it?
PERSON: I don’t know.
BOB: Is he here?
PERSON: I don’t know.
BOB: Can you get him?
PERSON: I can-
BOB: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Is he here?
PERSON: … Well, no…
I am totally getting a sound snippet for you guys.
Spongebob the movie was wooo- on crack! Now I can see how all the “omg gay” hubbub surrounding the film came to be; there was so much subtext it was almost frightening.
ME: This isn’t like the television show!
I don’t like it when adults conceptualize stuff which will flies over children’s heads. Spongebob was kind of the new Mickey Mouse. He’s just happy and cute why attach any real world theology to him?
On the other hand, if the subtext was intentional it must be praised because the message of the film was A. you are what you are, you cannot change it and there’s nothing wrong with that and B. Just as you should accept yourself for what you are, the rest of the world should accept you as well.
It’s a good message and if I wanted anyone to teach it to mah chillens, I would choose Spongebob.
BEST LINE OF THE MOVIE
“We’re kids! We blow bubbles, we like icecream, we worship a giant peanut for corn’s sake!”
I think the first half of the film was hilarious. I laughed way too hard with the pirate theme song and Spongebob getting “drunk” off icecream after losing the promotion to manager.
Oh. And David Hasselhoff now wins the prize for best sport in Hollywood. Up until last night, that prize belonged to John Malkovich for “Being John Malkovich.” But yes. David. You go girl.
/ DIGRESSION
After renting et al, I went and…
Are you ready (kids)?
(Aye, aye Cap’n!)
bought an iPod!
I can’t believe the frivolity of this purchase, but well, whatever. I figured I had a large bonus which I did nothing with so… yes.
I haven’t done anything with it as of yet, but its name is Ornshaw. Dylan Ornshaw. After Bob and Jack Wild of course.
In fact, I should start playing with it now, eh?
Anyhow, that was my highly active Saturday. I came home after the iPod purchase (I oh, I also purchased "Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow" the hell?), I watched my movies and wrote my script. Not bad at all. I should get up before 2 PM every Saturday. Today I was back to my old ways: sleeping in, going to gym, proofing writing (read: wishing for death).
Tra-la! I want chocolate.
suddenly i was @ 09:26 pm
(no feathers)
tuesday, march 1, 2005
The scene snippet (sans character names).
Coming down the street a group of PEOPLE carry a large statue of the Virgin. It is the procession of the Madonna. The statue is decorated with trinkets, which sparkle in the sun. People throw flowers and stand in awe of her presence.
“He” watches, when, through the crowd and procession he notices someone: the girl from the sunset. He can just barely catch glimpses of her eyes through the glinting decorations of the Virgin. She laughs and smiles and keeps glancing over, though whether she looks at him or just in his general direction it is unclear.
I can't believe I just shared that.
Today I think something really neat happened. Not sure.
suddenly i was @ 01:52 am
(no feathers)