Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Rice Phase

For better or worse, I go through Damien Rice phases where I can't take my eyes off of floating cannonballs, and I strut around in pajamas for entire days stumbling through the work I have to do. These are not particularly gloomier phases than the rest of the anthill existence, nor are they particularly less motivated. I'm only as bi-polar as the next bi-polar bear, and he's so cuddly and cute.

If anything, they are definitely more poignant phases. Everything takes on a deeper meaning, more things are read into, more lines read between. You could say more thinking is done (therefore more am-ing accomplished?), more pondering.

I used to believe that my Damien Rice phases were triggered by you (plural, obscure, undefined). Now that you has many faces and none of them recent, I am beginning to run out of lightning for my blamestorm. You, perhaps, is a symptom of the phase rather than the other way around.

Be that as it may, I think these are possibly nothing more than a healthy balance for the unbridled optimism and enthusiasm of the high end of the see-saw. They help me to contemplate from my throat, sing from my diaphragm, and stare right through you. Tomorrow I will be back to Jack, Jude, Joe, Jason, Joshua, Justin, and Milow.

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Wednesday, March 09, 2011

Hot Chelle Rae - Tonight, Tonight

Listen to the video then check out my commentary.

Don't think you can ever outgrow punk music. It's older than you.

The happy-go-lucky emo is the new great trend in rebellious young music. When denial turns to optimism, which turns to could-carelessness, you have a feeling on your hands that is quite hard to describe (and they wonder why we use 'whatever'). Still, make no mistake: partying on the rooftop, top of the world remains one of the best solutions.

Oh, also, I don't know when it became cool to name-drop a chubby, bearded guy into your song but I definitely approve. And kudos to Mr. Galifianakis for having somehow embedded himself firmly into modern pop culture (if not quite yet modern spell checkers).

If words like heartcry and youth were still in my vocabulary I might use them here. I might also use buoyant. But 'don't know if I'll make it, but watch how good I'll fake it' pretty much sums it up how everyone in the entire world feels whether they admit it or not, so don't think you're so special. We live in a teeming anthill of egocentric, pity-absorbed worker bees with game faces on, so you can cry on my shoulder for a bit if I can cry on yours. But then you'll have to go back to faking it because that's how things work.

Oh well.

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Saturday, March 05, 2011

Moral Cliches

The people in a certain Home knew all the moral cliches so well that they'd just call out a number instead of giving the whole sermon. "One" was that money couldn't buy you happiness. "Three" was that faith could move mountains. "Seven" was that what everybody needed was love, and so on and so forth. Somebody would say, "Fourteen!" and everyone would be deeply moved. Someone else would say, "Seventy-two!" and everyone would be encouraged and inspired. Well, the newcomer listened for while and then called out, "Twenty-four!" but no one was touched. Then the guy in the chair next to him sighed, "I guess some people just don't know how to give devotions."

This slightly passé and easily misunderstood parody is what I feel like when someone tries to preach to me. Not that what they're saying isn't profound and true and the answer. It is. And it's simple. Take a number.

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