Two-Headed Boy

I've decided to stop posting consistently about the heavy topics that are weighing on my fragile mind as, more often than not, I am not even able to accurately put in to words what I am feeling. So, I figure a lighter subject could be my current obsession of gathering and pouring over my music collection in record format in the agonizing audiophile way that only a crazy person like me would do.

My current obsession is the lo-fi early 90s working of Jeff Mangum (yes, Mangum, not Magnum) in the form of the indie/rock/acoustic band Neutral Milk Hotel. Jeff's sometimes soft crooning, sometimes screeching, drunken-Irish voice fills the listener's ears with poetry (and yes I say poetry because I think that some words are too beautiful to be considered just lyrics to a song) that brings to life vivid images of a whole different world. In this world of endless possibility, the absurd becomes everyday life; lost loves are reborn as piano playing boys in Spain and children are fed tomatoes with radio wire by their caretakers.

Brother see we are one in the same
And you left with your head filled with flames
And you watched as your brains fell out through your teeth
Push the pieces in place
Make your smile sweet to see
Don't you take this away
I'm still wanting my face on your cheek

And when we break we'll wait for our miracle
God is a place where some holy spectacle lies
And when we break we'll wait for our miracle
God is a place you will wait for the rest of your life

I'd suggest for anyone with a taste for the different and a stomach for the strange to check out Jeff Mangum and all his works, for there's magic beneath those bagpipes.

The Dead Flag Blues

The cars on fire, and there's no driver at the wheel
And the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides
And a dark wind blows.
The government is corrupt
And we're on so many drugs, with the radio on and the curtains drawn.

We are trapped in the belly of this horrible machine,
And the machine is bleeding to death.

The sun has fallen down, and the billboards are all leering
And the flags are all dead at the tops of their poles.

It went like this, the buildings toppled in on themeselves
Mothers, clutching babies, picked through the rubble, and pulled out their hair.
The skyline was beautiful on fire
All twisted metal, stretching upwards
Everything washed in a thin, orange haze.

I said kiss me, you're beautiful, these are truly the last days.

You grabbed my hand, and we fell into it
Like a daydream, or a fever.

We woke up one morning, and fell a little further down
For sure is the Valley of Death.

I open up my wallet, and it is full of blood.

For Those Who Think They Are Still Free

Last week, Congress passed the Military Commissions Act which effectively dissolved many of the rights that we Americans believe that we still possess. The bill grants the Bush administration the power to detain, interrogate, and prosecute alleged terrorists and their supporters. The scary part is, anyone in the world (Americans included) may at any time be classified as an "unlawful enemy combatant", seized, and detained. The bill also appears to have dissolved all rights of habeas corpus as well, bringing to mind the Japanese internment camps instituted by our government during WWII in which 120,000 Japanese civilians (2/3 of which were American) were detained without trial in military camps located across the country.

Are we so naive to believe that mass internment cannot happen again? It is documented fact that the United States now holds more than 14,000 detainees in prison camps located in Iraq, Guantanamo, Afghanistan, and countless other locations. All of these prisoners can be held indefinitely without trial based upon secret evidence of which they have no access to. And, thanks to other various post-9/11 bills all signed by President Bush, these prisoners can all be legally tortured in order to uncover evidence which they may or may not have.

Of course, the mass practical joke that we call the media would not inform us of these matters, for why should the public be well-informed? If they were, the powers that be would no longer have the ability to slowly but surely reclaim all of "freedoms" that we still are so sure belong to us.

Jesus Camp

http://www.apple.com/trailers/magnolia/jesuscamp/trailer/

This is a fantastic example of people taking a good idea way to far. Something that, sadly, happens way too much in this world.

The basic teachings of the Gospels, I believe, are good things. But in the hands of human beings, who I do not believe that at the present time are equipped with the emotional understanding and the certain amount of detachment that is required in order to properly deal with religion, these teachings are taken to new heights that they were never meant to go. Loving your neighbor is good. Treating others as you would like to be treated is good. Not having respect for another person because they don't live and believe just as you do is not good. Taking young children who are at the height of their impressionability and teaching them that they are at the front lines of a spiritual battle is not good. The hairs of my arm were seriously standing on end when the one woman in the trailer compared these children to those who are trained to fight in an army. This is scary stuff people.

I believe that until people can learn to accept the fact that there may not be one correct answer to life and that the choices they make may not necessarily be the only correct choices, organized religion and movements and camps such as this one should be avoided. Spirituality is a personal matter and I think that it needs to remain one.

My Thoughts Are Misguided and a Little Naive...

lately,ihaventfeltquitelikemyself
andthedeeperanddeeperilook,
themoreirealizethateverythingithoughtwastruth

isinfactalie

Idon'tknowwhy?Ifeelsotongue-tied...

I Don't Want to be an Ant

"Hey.

Could we do that again?
I know we haven't met, but I don't want to be an ant.
You know?
I mean, it's like we go through life with our antennas bouncing off one another, continously on ant autopilot, with nothing really human required of us.

Stop.

Go.

Walk here.

Drive there.

All action basically for survival.
All communication simply to keep this ant colony buzzing along in an efficient, polite manner.

'Here's your change.'

'Paper or plastic?'

'Credit or debit?'

'You want ketchup with that?'

I don't want a straw, I want real human moments.
I want to see you.
I want you to see me.
I don't want to give that up.

I don't want to be ant, you know?"

"Teacher Seeks Pupil: Must Have an Earnest Desire to Save the World"

Currently Reading: Ishmael - Daniel Quinn

The subtitle for this work of fiction reads "An Adventure of the Mind and Spirit" and an adventure it certainly is. Within the first few chapters, the title character raises a seemingly simple question but an incredibly complex one at the same time; what makes us believe that human beings are the final culmination of so many billions of years of evolution? Do we seriously think that the advancement of the universe and of the world we live in all ended when humans came onto the scene a relatively short amount of time (three million years or so) ago? We are brought up to believe that the planet we find ourselves on is here for the sole sake of us to take control and become the masters of. Everyday we are bombarded by stories of mankind "conquering" the seas, "conquering" the rainforest, "conquering" the atom, "conquering" space, the list goes on and on. But what right do we have to assume that the planet is even ours to conquer? We are just the current stewards of a fragile place that we seem hell-bent on destroying before we even have the opportunity to fully understand it. We have put ourselves in a very precarious situation and seem completely content to only continue worsening it for ourselves and our posterity.

What do we do to fend off this demise that we are bringing upon ourselves? The first step is to realize:
1.) that there is a problem and it is dire and
2.) it is in our hands to stop it.

For ideas and suggestions, visit http://www.climatecrisis.net/

How the Pope is Chosen

Any poodle under ten inches high is a toy.
Almost always a toy is an imitation
of something grown-ups use.
Popes with unclipped hair are called "corded popes."
If a Pope's hair is allowed to grow unchecked,
it becomes extremely long and twists
into long strands that look like ropes.
When it is shorter it is tightly curled.
Popes are very intelligent.
There are three different sizes.
The largest are called standard Popes.
The medium-sized ones are called miniature Popes.
I could go on like this, I could say:
"He is a squarely built Pope, neat,
well-proportioned, with an alert stance
and an expression of bright curiosity,"
but I won't. After a poodle dies
all the cardinals flock to the nearest 7-Eleven.
They drink Slurpies until one of them throws up
and then he's the new Pope.
He is then fully armed and rides through the wilderness alone,
day and night in all kinds of weather.
The new Pope chooses the name he will use as Pope,
like "Wild Bill" or "Buffalo Bill."
He wears red shoes with a cross embroidered on the front.
Most Popes are called "Babe" because
growing up to become a Pope is a lot of fun.
All the time their bodies are becoming bigger and stranger,
but sometimes things happen to make them unhappy.
They have to go to the bathroom by themselves,
and they spend almost all of their time sleeping.
Parents seem incapable of helping their little popes grow up.
Fathers tell them over and over again not to lean out of windows,
but the sky is full of them.
It looks as if they are just taking it easy,
but they are learning something else.
What, we don't know, because we are not like them.
We can't even dress like them.
We are like red bugs or mites compared to them.
We think we are having a good time cutting cartoons out of the paper,
but really we are eating crumbs out of their hands.
We are tiny germs that cannot be seen under microscopes.
When a Pope is ready to come into the world,
we try to sing a song, but the words do not fit the music too well.
Some of the full-bodied popes are a million times bigger than us.
They open their mouths at regular intervals.
They are continually grinding up pieces of the cross
and spitting them out. Black flies cling to their lips.
Once they are elected they are given a bowl of cream
and a puppy clip. Eyebrows are a protection
when the Pope must plunge through dense underbrush
in search of a sheep.

An Argument for Introspection

It has become too commonplace in modern day society for an individual to feel that they are perfectly fine just the way that they are. The desire to step outside oneself and to watch as that shell is stripped away to it's most essential elements is one that is rare today indeed. All great teachers, thinkers, and philosophers had this in common: they all treasured the process of becoming something greater than they once were. It is truly the weak-minded individual who takes offense at someone questioning the thoughts and ideals that they hold so dear.

I for one don't wish to be like that. I want to be ripped up, torn apart, and beat down until I can no longer tell up from down, right from wrong, or good from evil. And, only when I have reached this state, then can I begin the process of discovery; discovery, that is, of who I really am. I want every belief that I have questioned by others as well as by myself. I want every decision and every desire up for dispute. I no longer want to be oblivious of myself.

The Portuguese author Jose Saramago wrote in his short story "The Tale of the Unknown Island" that every man is an island, and, dangerous as it may be, every man must sail out into the open waters surrounding himself. The view from the shore is limited, and it is only from that vantage point in the ocean that we can see what the island truly looks like. From there, one can see every valley and every peak, every tree that grows and every animal that thrives. From there we can see our true value and true potential.

All this is useless of course without action. There are few people who have the courage to have all that they believe called into question. And still fewer who have the strength to take what they have learned and put it to good use. I am nowhere near the end of my journey to the waters surrounding my island. In fact, I would say that I have barely begun. But I believe that the rewards that I will gain will make the trip more than worth the hardship.

Two Lovers Unite

Two lovers stand at the edge of the road
An awkward minute or two
He remembers the evening past
When they shared their last kiss,
And spent the night in each other's arms
Each one silently wishing that morning would never come
But it did, just as it has for a million years
So they stand together, an ocean in between them
And they embrace for the last time
"I can't live without you," he whispers
"Nor can I," she says
And he gets in his car, and he drives away

In the early morning sun,
Two lovers are united in their emptiness