Saturday, December 10, 2016

Circa 2004

Unknown, talk to unknown
Ever, lasts forever

Well it's a sharp shock to your soft side
Summer moon, catch your shut eye
In your room
In my room
In your room
In my room

Louder, lips speak louder
Better, back together

Still it's a sharp shock to your soft side
Summer moon, catch your shut eye
In your room
In my room
In your room
In my room

What's the time?
What's the day?
Gonna leave me?
What's the time?
What's the place?
Go and leave me
What's the time?
What's the day?
Gonna leave me?
What's the time?
What's the place?
Go and leave me out
leave me out
leave me out
leave me out


Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs, "Soft Shock"
(rec by K)

Friday, December 9, 2016

Great Writing

"At one point, tacking out of Annapolis, [my father] said, "you've got the habit of leaving things unsaid, of shoving things under the rug."

I was startled, unnerved.

"Maybe it's inherited," he added.

I wondered what things he had in mind. He seemed to mean resentments. Did I have so many?

Once upon a time, I'd secretly blamed him for my miseries, for the anguish that plagued me through my college years after Caryn left me. My notion was, that his devotion to my mother -- his emotional dependence on her -- had set me a bad example and given me a model for love that ended up devastating me. But I had abandoned that idea, that ludicrous resentment, long ago. There were plenty of things I was actually glad I left unsaid. Still, the comment haunted me. It haunts me today -- all the things I wish I had said, when I had the chance."

- William Finnegan, Barbarian Days: A Surfing Life

Monday, November 28, 2016

"Writing felt like it justified, barely, my existence -- this extremity of obscurity I had perversely chosen."

William Finnegan, Barbarian Days: A Surfing Life

Sunday, November 27, 2016

The Pale Blue Dot



"That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there -- on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, that delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in this great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity -- in all this vastness -- there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves."

- Carl Sagan
1994

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Catholic School Kids

"Evidently it took Catholic school to turn young kids into fearless, hardened apostates."

- William Finnegan, "Barbarian Days: A Surfing Life"

Friday, November 11, 2016

At 7:00 p.m. the main hatchway caved in, At 7:00 p.m. it grew dark it was then, He said "Fellas it's been good to know ya"

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright, because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear my cry
But that's alright, because I love the way you lie

I can't tell you what it really is
I can only tell you what it feels like
And right now there's a steel knife, in my windpipe
I can't breathe, but I still fight, while I can fight
As long as the wrong feels right, it's like I'm in flight
High off of love drunk from my hate
It's like I'm huffing paint and I love it the more that I suffer
\

Thursday, November 10, 2016

IOWA

And I don't want you and I don't need you
Don't bother to resist, or I'll beat you
It's not your fault that you're always wrong
The weak ones are there to justify the strong

The beautiful people, the beautiful people
It's all relative to the size of your steeple
You can't see the forest for the trees
You can't smell your own shit on your knees

There's no time to discriminate
Hate every motherfucker
That's in your way

Hey you, what do you see?
Something beautiful, something free?
Hey you, are you trying to be mean?
If you live with apes man, it's hard to be clean

The worms will live in every host
It's hard to pick which one they eat the most

The horrible people, the horrible people
It's as anatomic as the size of your steeple
Capitalism has made it this way,
Old-fashioned fascism will take it away

There's no time to discriminate
Hate every motherfucker 
That's in your way

Marilyn Manson, "The Beautiful People"