Thursday, December 31, 2009

time doesn't exist. clocks do.

New year's resolutions?

but there is a crossroads
and i know which road i'm taking:

and it's okay if i, as i tend to do,
attach more importance to something
than it's really worth - i just have to say

but if i do, that's ok too,
and obviously fated.
if something hurts,

when fatuous and impossible things
are scripted in glowing text...
maybe they're not so impossible.
when life looks beautiful
(and even when it doesn't)

again with the cliches,
(I saved Latin!)
always, always always:

and make it count.
every moment.

of course:

and it won't,
because right now
life is like the view from the fiftieth story
of sunlight cascading over rooftops
in a golden European town
to a Beirut song about possibility
and i know

it's all about perspective.
(stop writing poems about the moments i lost,
start living poems about the moments i keep)

forget regrets.
make playlists for rainy days
and blazing glorious nights
and stay awake til dawn
the way we do.

and finally,
remind myself
with insistence,
and blazing certainty

the end.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

or, why i need to go to amoeba relatively soon

Code red cola war conformity crisis
Perfunctory idols rewriting their bibles
With magic markers running out of their ink
Lives in white out-
Turn the lights out-
Fax machine anthems get your damn hands up!

- Beck, "Hell Yes"

(necessary vinyls)

- neon bible arcade fire
- girls girls
- yankee hotel foxtrot wilco
- summerteeth wilco
- mixed up the cure
- the hazards of love the decemberists
- visiter the dodos
- up from below edward sharpe & the magnetic zeroes
- censored colors portugal. the man
- random spirit lover sunset rubdown
- sky blue sky wilco
- a brief history of love the big pink
- baby darling doll face honey band of skulls
- third portishead


used to being controlled by consumerism (and not entirely averse to this fact) i find myself at a peculiar loss to desire things this christmas and realize, for once, maybe i am perfectly content.

it's bizarre and totally counterintuitive, but i'm not complaining.

(Oh, but these would be nice to unwrap
come bright and shiny Christmas morning.)

Friday, December 18, 2009

faded from the winter

"What makes the voice pathetic
is that it doesn't know
what kind of people it's reaching.
No one hears it, except us.
This Age wanted heroes.
It got us instead:
carefully constructed, but
Subtle but,
to take up
the burden of the times.
It happens.
A whole generation of washouts.
History says stand up,
and we totter and collapse,
weeping, moved, but not
- Tony Kushner, A Bright Room Called Day

"A whole generation of washouts."

I mean, maybe.
But the hope outweighs the tragedy;
It has to, or we perish.