Toys
I was going into my sister’s room today, because that’s where I keep my guitar. Since she has moved out, there are a few boxes of old junk that are being kept there. When I went to get my guitar, I looked into this box, and sitting near the top, there was this old toy there, and it made me smile.
Perhaps it has to do with my subconscious: I don’t remember ever playing with the toy, but I know the toy, and I know I must have played with it. I must have played with it lots.
It is two suns that are connected with each other and spin like cogs. It makes a rattling noise. Both of the suns are smiling and look really happy. Maybe that makes me happy. I think I just remember being happy around it, when I played with it and probably stuck it in my mouth.
For some reason, there is something markedly therapeutic about playing with it now.
A poem, and some thoughts.
While I have my suspicions that there are very few of my loyal readers left, that is alright. I suppose I’ve had a good run with blogging, and I also suspect that it will not be a constant habit of mine anymore. It is, however, always nice to have someone read your thoughts.
Something that’s been on my mind: a cousin of mine died a few weeks ago. This is a sad story, if you didn’t get that from the title. I don’t think I ever met her… my uncle married a woman to whom she was born in a previous marriage. Still, my parents drove down to Missouri for the funeral. They learned some things about her life.
My cousin used to have a husband who wasn’t a kind person to her. They ended up getting divorced. She had a hard life, apparently and it was pretty miserable in general. She ended up meeting a new man, who was in the military. She told him “I don’t care if you love me, I just care if you’re nice to me.” But he was nice to her and loved her too.
And they had a child, who is still very young. (I think my aunt is going to help take care of her, because it seems like the last connection to her daughter) But her husband, although he loved her and was nice to her, was away on a third tour of duty to the war. He was away for most of their marriage. After she had the child she got sick. I’m not sure with what. The doctors kept saying that she would get better and not to worry. But my aunt didn’t know if she would. She told the husband that she ought to come home. After a month or so in the hospital, she suddenly got worse over three days and died. Her husband was still at war. He got to come home for the funeral.
Here’s a poem. I don’t think there is very much to it, but I think it sounds nice. It’s a nice poem.
Communion At St Margaret’s, Winnipeg
I walk forward with my row,
Between the choir singing
And kneel before the priest
To receive the Eucharist
Voices shake the building,
I feel it in the wood
Christ’s blood warms my heart
And makes me mindful of my mood
Holy church seldom visited:
(the jouney is too far)
Did Christ really walk in England?
Would we be better if he were?
Old wood floors, cracked drywall,
Opulent stained glass,
The people shuffle softly
In our communion mass
But halfway through the lay,
the choir must have ceased
leaving only sounds
of slowly walking feet,
people’s lowered voices,
whispers, silly children’s shouts
In our sacred shuffle,
There was no greater sound.
Brother Peter sits there silently,
Frustrated with life
To want to break and burn the pews
Out of anger, out of spite.
But I kneel and pray and listen
in a manner not like before.
I neither yearn nor worry,
My heart has been made whole.
Junkie
I’m in a class about the beat poets. This post is titled this as a reference to a novel by Burroughs, which I read an excerpt from. There are other reasons too. Perhaps I was inspired.
For the last few months I’ve had this joke: that I’ve been a news junkie— and junkie is a surprisingly accurate description. Unlike junk, (opium or any derivative thereof) news is available for free. And often, when I have free time, I’m unable to stop reading it or watching it.
I’ve stopped drinking coffee in the mornings- at least caffeinated. I’ve switched to Yerba Mate. It reminds me of an old joke- “I used to be a herion addict, now I’m a methadone addict.” That applies to other things in my life as well.
When I moved my computer downstairs in an attempt to cut myself off from the internet, I mostly changed the mode of internet. I started reading news more and neglecting my blog.
So I’m trying to cut myself off from the news. It really doesn’t do much for me… I’d be much happier reading a book. And there are lots of things at home I’ve been neglecting- like how my room is really messy. Pretty much all I do there now is sleep. It’s kind of sad. But when I started reading news heavily, second semester last year or so, it was good, and definitely improved my reading skill. I didn’t read much at the time. I should really apply that to textbooks though.
I also read some posts by Garrison Keillor on Salon.com. I guess they would be considered blogs, or something like that. Plainly stated american naturalism, with a heavily leftist political slant. He describes what is going on in the world well, and quite matter of factly. I think he is the inspiration for this post.
Another author, I can’t remember who, said that a writer will kill for a good audience. I like writing here, and if they haven’t all picked up and forgotten about me, I think I have a pretty good audience. It’s small, it’s quiet, but this is what my writing calls home. I think that makes sense.
I went to Borders today and read though WANTED. It’s entirely different from the movie in terms of plot. About the only thing that they kept the same was that the main character shoots guns. It was interesting and entertaining though… albeit bloody and coarse. So was the movie. I saw it on Jon Stewart’s recommendation- that you go in expecting an action movie… but then you start watching it and are simply blown away by the craziness of the stunts. That sounds pretty accurate to me.
And I bought a book- The People’s History of the United States of America- which will apparently change my life if I get around to reading it. I really intend to. I’m turning over a new leaf. There are so many things to read though. Like textbooks. I really intend to be a better student this year. I was also somewhat inspired by looking at things for law schools— Not that I want to go to law school, but it helps me gauge what my GPA should be around. The median gpa to get into Lincoln is 3.64. I suppose that’s motivation.
When I was a kid, my mom used to gush about all the potential that I had as a student. I don’t think that she was just biased. She said that the only kid that she met that had more potential (or at least more wasted potential) than me was my best friend Joe. But now that we’re older, we’re disaffected college students. Sometimes I say that I’m as brilliant as I am lazy— and that is alot. Other times I say that “lazyness is next to godliness.”
Still, we’ve both grown up. We’ve transformed from balls of academic potential into smart, witty, eccentrics. We’re people. The type of people that make other people look at things differently. We make life more interesting. Maybe I say that to justify the strange things that I often do. Still, they make me smile and laugh when I think of them.
Sometimes I’m somewhat clueless. And this summer I had an identity crisis and I’m just beginning to find out who I am a bit. I have no idea what I want to do in life, although I constantly get good ideas of what to do. I’ll probably just end up living life until I die. I don’t have any further plans than that. (Looking over that last sentance, it seems rather obvious, but funny. I’m keeping it.) Maybe I’ll be a lawyer, a professor, a musician, a librarian or a communist leader. I’m really not sure yet. But at this point, with a lack of my feet on the ground I feel like I could be anything. Maybe even the wind.
Now I sound like a kid again- “When I grow up, I want to be the wind.” I think that’s an admirable sentiment.
Sometimes I look for identity in things- like my mom’s old bike. There is plenty to think about there. My chacos too, which are expensive hiking sandals. An old friend of mine said that chaco owners make friends with other chaco owners, just because of how chacos are. I thought they were cool, and I was bought the image. I don’t go hiking nearly enough, and I feel a bit hypocritical sometimes when I wear them. But they are also for pretty much everything.
But today, walking back from Borders, just as the heavy rains had cleared, it felt like a bit of a hike. It felt nice to get wet from the rain too, on the way to Borders. Then I walked back to UNO, and walked through the pep bowl. On the way, the sun came out, and it felt as humid as the tripics.
There’s another joke I tell- I was walking with a few kids at UNO and one said something about how people think he is weird because of something or other. I replied that people think I’m weird because I walk through the pep bowl.
And that is exactly what I did. I walked through the pep bowl, with my chacos. I thought about how when I was young I knew more about the types of plants than I do now, that I spent more time outside, and that now I don’t appreciate nature as much as I should. Meanwhile, the earth and grass, sopping wet, made a squishing sound underneath my sandals. I felt like a kid again.
Cheers.
A Woman From Georgia
Today at work, there was a woman who came into the library crying. She said she wanted to print something, so I went to help her. She went to login to her email—it was from a Russian site. That was when I realized why she was crying. I got a copy of the email that she printed. It talked about how the conflict in Georgia was quite different than what was being reported. Here are some excerpts.
“Let me be perfectly honest when stating that this conflict is a deliberate act of aggression towards the Georgian people. Russian airstrikes have hit several civilian targets many of which lie far away from any zones of conflict. Refugees are filling the streets of Tbilisi quickly creating a crisis of food and shelter in the capitol city.”
“Dear friends, I never thought I’d come to ask for this, but this is a desperate plea for help. As I write this Russian planes headed toward my beautiful hometown of Tbilisi, in Georgia. My parents, the nicest and kindest people on earth, are sitting next door, holding each other’s hands and I don’t know how else to protect them. There are 100,000’s of other people here who are defenseless against one of the world’s largest military powers. Three days now I watched scores of innocent civilians killed by Russia’s brutal expansionism. Please spread the word, ask your governments to act, spread this message, and perhaps you can save a human life today.”
And I looked at the Big Picture section from the Boston Globe. It is always well done. This one is rather disturbing in parts.
It made me remember an interview with an ex KGB agent that I listened to on NPR once. He talked about how after the fall of the Soviet Union, he felt that he could no longer work for the FSB because it went against his ethics. Essentially because the organization no longer had accountability and was a bad place to work.
He also said that the cold war never really ended from the Russian perspective. However, they were forced to take a break because of the economic conditions at the time. Russia’s economy is much stronger now…
I suppose, I don’t really have an definite point to what I’m writing. Just some things I’m thinking about. I’m entirely skeptical that timing the invasion to coincide with the Olympics was accidental. Both sides accuse the other of ethnic cleansing and breaking the ceasefire. The Georgians accuse the Russians of looting, bombing civilians and setting up concentration camps. On the other hand, I don’t believe that Russia recognizes Georgia as a country.
We live in a world that is often sad and seemingly always incomprehensible.
And now, a very good quote. It’s good enough, at least for me that it makes me feel optimistic about life. And this is only part of it:
“The aeroplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me I say “Do not despair”.
The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress: the hate of men will pass and dictators die and the power they took from the people, will return to the people and so long as men die liberty will never perish.”
Internet addiction.
One reason why I haven’t written here in a long time is that I’ve come to the conclusions that a) I am addicted to the internet and b) that there are better things to do than spend my time on the internet. I’ve also been fairly antisocial lately, which causes me to think about how I spend my time.
I reached the first conclusion when I would wake up in the morning, turn on the internet, go to work, and spend the probably eight or so hours on the internet, (or at least in front of a computer, depending on how busy I was) and then come home and spend another hour or so on the internet. I was reading news mostly, and while it is good to be informed, due to the bounty of things to read, it’s easy to become excessive. Actually reading news on the internet helped me to start reading things again for recreation, but there are better things to read.
So I mean to reform— I haven’t written here in a while anyway, because most of my attention has been focused on news, but I think I’m due for an announcement. I think I may even remove this desk and computer from my room in the name of liberation.
I also find the internet to be a stressor, and I find myself obligated to explore it. I think I need a more relaxed lifestyle. More contemplation, less television. Less music too. I find that I have too much of it.
And I haven’t made much progress on the album for a while. There is still faint hope for it. I was planning to release it for free via the internet. I just haven’t put the effort into it (see: time consumed on the internet) and so now I might. But on the other hand, there are plenty of good things to listen to even without me writing songs. But I do think I have some good ideas. We’ll see how that goes.
For a long time I’ve decided that I shouldn’t have the internet if I move out, but here it is free, so I’m conflicted. There is no shortage of public outlets to the internet anyway, so I would still be able to communicate. But I mean to direct my time to other things-books, physical activity outside, etc.
I’ve been fixing up an old bicycle we had in our attic, and I mean to ride it more often. Right now I’m too out of shape, and so it is making my body hurt when I ride it too long, but I intend to get in shape. I’ve been riding it most days. My goal is to be able to ride it from here to UNO (roughly 8 miles each way, through hilly, bicycle-hating Omaha) and use it to commute instead of a car. I just think it would make things simpler. I don’t like the idea of cars.
Today I was watching The Birds on TCM (TCM is okay to watch because they often show really great movies, it’s in letterbox, and there are no commercials) and they mentioned the name of the town that they were in-Bodega Bay. This is significant because I am going to a wedding which takes place in Bodega Bay in yet a few weeks.
And someday, after I graduate, I think I will move out West, and probably do school. While this is widely impractical, I think I should buy a kayak, take what I can fit, put it on the the Platte River, and follow the Louis and Clark trail to the ocean. It’s mostly just a cool idea, and something I’ll never do, but you never know!
So yes, I’ll still be around, on email and facebook, but I think I may quit blogging, and maybe even close these blogging accounts in a few months. The current lawsuit against youtube, (in which the judge ruled that over four terrabytes of data be turned over to the court, which includes records of I/P addresses, account names, and every video that account has ever watched) (again, an example of how much news I read) should be a reminder that every piece of information ever put out by you onto the internet is still available and accessible. This includes things such as AIM/MSN conversations and emails. I use gmail because it’s convenient, and while it’s TOS is somewhat more invasive than other providers’, it’s irrelevant because records are still kept of such things, and people can still access them. But perhaps an attempt to limit myself, and remove information about myself from the public sphere isn’t a bad idea.
So maybe in a year or so, if whoever reads this has a bungalow along the Platte, there is the possibility I might run into you. But for the moment, this may be my last entry. (If I do finish the album I’ll make a note of it!)
This is my bike, which I think is cool. It has some problems, but I really like it.
Cheers! Good luck and much love to all of my faithful readers!
Poemtry!
Considering the rave reviews that my poetry has gotten on my blogs (see: zero comments for any of the poems I have posted before), I decided to post some more! Maybe these will be more accessible. The first one is quite obviously about Warren Buffet. The second one is a rough draft that I wrote last night of a song that will be on the concept album “The Unstopable Force and the Immovable Object” that I’m recording this summer. The whole thing still needs lots of work, but that’s alright, maybe it will keep me busy.
“The Richest Man in the World”
I walked by his house today.
On the cusp of a neighborhood
Like a village,
Where everybody says hello,
Next to a busy, meandering road.
It, like a blue barn is tame; restrained.
It is quite modest compared to his worth.
It is no orgiastic display of wealth.
Neither bright nor gloomy castle,
Mired with forest in the countryside
Nor places upon measureless caverns
Upon which the world heaves in and out.
It is simply a home.
There was a man working outside,
Spreading mulch around a birch tree.
I can’t help but stare whenever I walk by.
As if someone’s head might explode
And I could grab the money gushing from his spine.
And why not? There’s only bushes for a wall.
“Moral Being”
A kid was tearing apart a seawall
And dropping the rocks upon crabs.
I walked up and tried to stop this senseless killing.
He pushed me down,
But his mom came and stole him away
To punish him
I was on my hands and knees
I was on my hands and knees
I was on my hands and knees
I was on my hands and knees
And God’s a kid whose mom gave him fireworks
So that he could destroy the anthills
He chased me stomping with his shoes,
And a magnifying glass called glory.
I was running on my feet
I was running on my feet
I was running on my feet
I was running on my feet
In my mind a cosmic battle unfolds,
With God, and “truth.”
But I have a moral core, which believes in him
So I flee from the burning eye
I am on my hands and knees
I am on my hands and knees
I am on my hands and knees
I am on my hands and knees
Oh, and when I went to a Toys’ R Us recently I saw an Indiana Jones action figure that came with “The Ark of the Covenant.” It was hilarious. It reminded me of a parody toy image contest I saw where the winner was “Melting Wax Nazis.” I couldn’t find that though, so this will have to do!
Punk is Dead
About a week ago, I was looking up videos on the CBC archives about punk rock. It was really interesting to see what punk rock was like back in it’s heyday. Here are the two best videos I saw. One is an interview with Iggy Pop, and the other is a report on Canadian Punk. It’s really interesting to see the reporters biases, and funny to see how the punks act. I guess it gives me a better idea of what punk was about. I like the part of the Iggy Pop interview near the end, when he is talking about the meaning of his music. I like the report best when the lead singer from the viletones is talking about violence: it’s just funny.
http://archives.cbc.ca/arts_entertainment/music/topics/102/
Watch the first two videos. Those are the ones I mean.
Coincidences?
One of my friendships here started off with a coincidence:
I had decided to go and see Shane Claiborne speak, because I had randomly read some things about him on some of my friend’s walls. (I know someone who is doing an internship associated with the simple way.) That event was random enough. I also decided to ask Eric from my English class to come with me, knowing little about him. Perhaps I just had sized him up correctly. But oddly enough, he had read about the event and in fact had Shane’s book in his bag when I asked him. He had just finished reading it. We ended up not going because I had a scheduling conflict, but it was quite strange.
We went out for pizza yesterday, and were talking about pizza places that are good. We also talked about Casa Bonita, but it’s hardly a coincidence that we’ve both been there because it’s a tourist trap. Anyway, he was talking about one in Lincoln, where he is from, and I was like “Hey I think I know a pizza place with a similar concept, I went to this place called “Fat Boy’s Pizza” once in San Diego.”
There was a bit of a pause
“Wait, is that on Mission Beach?”
“No… I think it’s on Ocean Beach…”
“The beach with the amusement park and all that?”
“Wait, yeah, it was Mission Beach!”
So what the heck? We’ve both been to Fat Boy’s Pizza on Mission Beach in San Deigo. It’s also kind of strange because I have an odd attachment to that place anyway. That is such a random thing that I have no idea how to react to it. Also, we were both there with Church groups.
Ah but there is a point to this: I used to “not believe” in coincidences, that everything that happens happens for a reason. But now I see things like that as a random series of events, with no inherent meaning. I think this has partly to do with the movie I <3 Huckabees. In that movie, the main character consults some existential detectives to investigate a coincidence, and is assured that his coincidence is probably meaningless. He continues to investigate throughout the course of the movie and discovers that everyone is connected to each other, like they are stitched together in some kind of cosmic blanket. As in, you can’t tell where one ends, and one begins. But sometimes coincidences feel like that: a person is able to find your roots in an unexpected way, and you realize, ultimately how similar you are. “Everything is the same, even if it’s different.
Anyway, here’s my question, feel free to bite: Are Coincidences meaningless or meaningful? Also, if you have any coincidences that are significant, feel free to post them, and perhaps we’ll conduct an existential investigation.
This is my profile picture now on facebook. It is awesome, and oddly appropriate, I think.
Singer Lady From "Ipod Nano" Commercial to do Free Concert in Omaha
Really, the World Herald writes articles on such things, they should at least be courteous enough to say “Feist” in the title, rather than “1234 singer.” I think that’s one of the reasons I like Pedro the Lion. One time, when they did a concert in Omaha, apparently they didn’t play their hit that was out on the radio at the time. The crowd wanted them to play it, but they refused. You’ve got to get tired of singing a specific song after a while. It makes me respect them as artists. Still, I’m already pretty excited for this, even though it’s not until July.
Where have I been? I’m not really sure myself. Wait, maybe I am!
Now I’m even more confused.. At any rate I guess I haven’t felt like I’ve had much to say lately. Or maybe I have. Wait what?
If you also want to be confused, you should listen to half handed cloud! I’m going to see them on the 21st! Here, I’ll even give you a link! http://www.myspace.com/handycloud They’re on the same label as Sufjan Stevens, which probably explains quite a bit. If you don’t know who Sufjan Stevens is, your life probably a meaningless void. And don’t judge him by half handed cloud.
One of the things I’ve been reading lately is a blog called “overheard in New York.” Just lots of random, funny quotes. For example:
They’re Not Going to Be One-Upped on the Surrealism
Guy #1: You know that Anton Webern’s Quartet for the End of Time was performed in a concentration camp? Crazy.
Guy #2: Yeah. He died real weird. I forget how. I think the Nazis shot him.
Total stranger: Actually he was shot by Allied soldiers. He was breaking curfew smoking a cigarette, and they mistook him for his brother-in-law, who was an alleged Nazi spy.
Guy #1: Oh, I see. Thanks.
Total stranger: Any other questions? I just ride this train all day waiting to answer questions on twentieth-century music composition. The next car has an expert on Chekhov, and the conductor studies philosophy.
Guy #1: So anyway, Slavic girls are pretty hot.
Guy #2: Yeah, for real.
I liked this one too.
Deli girl: So is that your girlfriend?
Guy : No, just a roommate.
Deli girl: What about that other girl you were in here with last week, the other blonde one?
Guy : Nope, just a friend.
Deli girl: And that brunette that came in with you the other day?
Guy : I’m actually gay.
Guy to roommate: Dude, did you see that? That girl is freaking stalking me, she knows every girl I come in here with. I had to tell her I was gay so she would stop with the questions.
Roommate: Why didn’t you just tell her Jess was your girlfriend?
Guy : Cuz the way she was grilling me, I would’ve had to bring Jess in here and make out with her in front of this psycho to make her believe me.
Roommate: Right, so now all you have to is bring a guy in here and make out with him. she’ll believe you.
Guy: I’m not sure the sandwiches in here are worth that.
Here’s a picture that was my profile picture on facebook for a bit. It’s from a zoo in Colorado springs, from when I was a bit younger. I really like it.
Smile
When I was a baby, maybe two years old or so, I had the habit of doing something somewhat strange. Whenever my family went to a restaurant, I would find the saddest looking person in the room, like a grumpy old man or something. Then I would sit there, and stare, and smile at them. I would smile for minutes and minutes. I would smile until they noticed me. Then, when they did notice me, and looked away, I would keep smiling. I would smile and smile. I would only stop when they smiled back.
This is to say that the world isn’t an awful place. There are always people who smile, and others who smile back, and that make me happy. It’s something quite simple, but one of my favorite things in the world is making people smile. No matter how much people change, it is incredible how much they stay the same.
Now here is a video from an old BBC show called “Look Around You.” There are lots of episodes on Youtube, and it’s hilarious. Basically, it is a parody of educational films.