Friday, July 30, 2010
Algunas veces
Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's great, sometimes you love, and sometimes you hate. Sometimes you laugh, sometimes you cry, sometimes you live, and sometimes you die. Here I stand and here I lie, I am me and me am I
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Banality
One of the things that causes the deepest depression is a lack of curiosity about oneself. Personally, I am a constant student - I am curious to understand how everything works; the machinations and intrigue of everything that exists fascinate me to no end. And of course, that "End of the Line" marker where one needs to know to stop delving. Beyond that barricade, there are things we just cannot understand.
However, I make the critical error quite frequently of thinking that I have myself figured out. I make the crucial mistake of thinking that I too am something beyond curiosity, beyond intrigue, beyond enigma. I think I have myself figured out, that I am not interesting.
But if I know that there are so many things out there I cannot understand - the stuff of gods, the stuff of extraterrestrials, the dark matter of the universe, the inner workings of the effervescent human soul - then how can I possibly misguidedly believe that I know myself?
The point is, I must continue to be curious about myself. I must continue to be intrigued by what I think I understand about myself. Because I am not a banal person, I am a complex - unfathomably complex - human being, just like everyone else is. We are too complicated for axioms. The point is to stand at a distance and marvel - to gaze and awe and be amazed, but to sit in a comfortable position doing so. And you must know when to pump the brakes and not fight it, to hit that road block.
However, I make the critical error quite frequently of thinking that I have myself figured out. I make the crucial mistake of thinking that I too am something beyond curiosity, beyond intrigue, beyond enigma. I think I have myself figured out, that I am not interesting.
But if I know that there are so many things out there I cannot understand - the stuff of gods, the stuff of extraterrestrials, the dark matter of the universe, the inner workings of the effervescent human soul - then how can I possibly misguidedly believe that I know myself?
The point is, I must continue to be curious about myself. I must continue to be intrigued by what I think I understand about myself. Because I am not a banal person, I am a complex - unfathomably complex - human being, just like everyone else is. We are too complicated for axioms. The point is to stand at a distance and marvel - to gaze and awe and be amazed, but to sit in a comfortable position doing so. And you must know when to pump the brakes and not fight it, to hit that road block.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Nuestra falibilidad
Creo que lo que me da miedo es simplemente ser humano.
Creo que la sensación de ser falible, de ser imperfecto o - de alguna manera - ser decepcionado, deprimido son los que me dan miedo.
Quizá no sea perfecto mi español pero ya sabes lo que te intento de decir.
Sin embargo, yo sé que no es realista desear ser perfecto, pero para mí es difícil cambiar mi punto de vista.
No obstante, sé que cosas así les cuestan trabajo a toda la gente del mundo, ¿no?
LA PALABRA ESCRITE ES INHERENTEMENTE FALIBLE, DEPRESIONANTE, DECEPCIONANTE.
Pero no me voy a fallar.
Creo que la sensación de ser falible, de ser imperfecto o - de alguna manera - ser decepcionado, deprimido son los que me dan miedo.
Quizá no sea perfecto mi español pero ya sabes lo que te intento de decir.
Sin embargo, yo sé que no es realista desear ser perfecto, pero para mí es difícil cambiar mi punto de vista.
No obstante, sé que cosas así les cuestan trabajo a toda la gente del mundo, ¿no?
LA PALABRA ESCRITE ES INHERENTEMENTE FALIBLE, DEPRESIONANTE, DECEPCIONANTE.
Pero no me voy a fallar.
Explorador.
Exploration is one of the hallmarks of expanding your line of sight. Whether it's staying up late to watch pandering commercials or hanging out in a place you don't belong, nothing shows you things like exploring. This means taking risks, putting yourself out there; it's all about trying to see the best you can what might be and/or what is out there. You need to try and figure it out the best you can even though completion is impossible. All the good and all the bad.
(3:15 AM)
(3:15 AM)
al Ghoul
al Ghoul
Somos nosotros
Y no somos nada.
I won't be afraid of their eyes any longer
And they won't be afraid of mine
Somos nosotros
Y no somos nada.
I won't be afraid of their eyes any longer
And they won't be afraid of mine
The Tyrrany of Bootstraps
Self-reliance is a myth. It was a fabrication concocted to serve the interests of the self-made-man fable. We are nothing without the millions of efforts exerted by millions of others every day. I couldn't be here at PDX if someone hadn't built it; I couldn't read this book if someone hadn't written it. I couldn't return a favor if someone hadn't given it to me first; I couldn't return a kiss without someone giving it to me first.
[The tyrannical myth of self reliance
keeps us in a cage
[We are nothing without our community
[I am nothing without my friends
[In a way we are all related.
[I won't be afraid of their eyes any longer
[And they won't be afraid of mine
Our thoughts are always in flux
The myth of stability makes us stagnant
The myth of function keeps us numb
WE ARE RIVERS NOT STATUES
WE ARE RIVERS NOT STATUES
WE ARE RIVERS NOT STATUES
AND THE MYTH OF EFFORT STRAINS US
AND THE MYTH OF SELF RELIANCE STRANGLES US
[And I won't be afraid of their eyes any longer
[And they won't be afraid of mine
(6 / 18 / 10 --- 9:47 AM)
[The tyrannical myth of self reliance
keeps us in a cage
[We are nothing without our community
[I am nothing without my friends
[In a way we are all related.
[I won't be afraid of their eyes any longer
[And they won't be afraid of mine
Our thoughts are always in flux
The myth of stability makes us stagnant
The myth of function keeps us numb
WE ARE RIVERS NOT STATUES
WE ARE RIVERS NOT STATUES
WE ARE RIVERS NOT STATUES
AND THE MYTH OF EFFORT STRAINS US
AND THE MYTH OF SELF RELIANCE STRANGLES US
[And I won't be afraid of their eyes any longer
[And they won't be afraid of mine
(6 / 18 / 10 --- 9:47 AM)
Moons
|||Waxing||
I care not about acceptance
She'll keep bowin' her neck
These ghosts are testing their limits
Of my already hoarse voice
They're gonna find me out by the dumpster
With orange caps at my feet like a bunch of confetti
And broken doors with death scrawl pleas
Submerged in the silence of twenty-two stifled screams
With the virus in my blood, I wane.
(This is about one of my friends' neighbors. He was an intravenous crystal meth addict who was dying of AIDS. One day, after defaulting on his rent payments to the point of warranting a dereliction notice from the City of Eugene, he left his apartment in the middle of the night to avoid being served with a subpoena. Before he left, he wrote some insane shit all over the walls: threats, pleas for help, other errata. I think it might have been written in blood. A lost soul if ever one existed.)
[[[[Waning]]]
Brackets, bracelets
My legs are braced
There'll be not another word
I left myself death alone on the tarmac
In Minneapolis
The skyline burns into orange and sinks
Behind the trees
We melt into the scorched earth
We wax.
(Sick on the runway in Minnesota.)
(6/17/10 - xx:xx??)
I care not about acceptance
She'll keep bowin' her neck
These ghosts are testing their limits
Of my already hoarse voice
They're gonna find me out by the dumpster
With orange caps at my feet like a bunch of confetti
And broken doors with death scrawl pleas
Submerged in the silence of twenty-two stifled screams
With the virus in my blood, I wane.
(This is about one of my friends' neighbors. He was an intravenous crystal meth addict who was dying of AIDS. One day, after defaulting on his rent payments to the point of warranting a dereliction notice from the City of Eugene, he left his apartment in the middle of the night to avoid being served with a subpoena. Before he left, he wrote some insane shit all over the walls: threats, pleas for help, other errata. I think it might have been written in blood. A lost soul if ever one existed.)
[[[[Waning]]]
Brackets, bracelets
My legs are braced
There'll be not another word
I left myself death alone on the tarmac
In Minneapolis
The skyline burns into orange and sinks
Behind the trees
We melt into the scorched earth
We wax.
(Sick on the runway in Minnesota.)
(6/17/10 - xx:xx??)
[\Alleys\]
I am a haemmorrhage
I am an astral plane
I am conviction
I am the driving rain
I am an eyelid
I am a new form of pain
I am confusion
I am untrained
I am despondent
I am the same
I am the driving rain
I am nothing if not the driving rain.
(6/17/10 - ??:??)
I am an astral plane
I am conviction
I am the driving rain
I am an eyelid
I am a new form of pain
I am confusion
I am untrained
I am despondent
I am the same
I am the driving rain
I am nothing if not the driving rain.
(6/17/10 - ??:??)
(Views)
I'll use this paper to wipe the dirt off my brain
I'll use this paper to make these crazy fucking walls sane
I'll use this paper to exorcise and excoriate all who have invited our ire
I'll use this paper before we change our minds and toss it into the fire
I'll use this paper to silence that buzzing hum of bugs
I'll use this paper to extirpate that florescent metal hum.
And then mind, we'll have some silent time.
One on one.
Hand is dead.
(6/17/10 - 12:30 PM - on a nauseous airplane)
I'll use this paper to make these crazy fucking walls sane
I'll use this paper to exorcise and excoriate all who have invited our ire
I'll use this paper before we change our minds and toss it into the fire
I'll use this paper to silence that buzzing hum of bugs
I'll use this paper to extirpate that florescent metal hum.
And then mind, we'll have some silent time.
One on one.
Hand is dead.
(6/17/10 - 12:30 PM - on a nauseous airplane)
States (a): Minnesota Nice
Grow tired of our airplane fame
A state of moral bankruptcy, foreclose the same
What happened to old fashioned politeness, good ol' boy?
You bring your state ill fame
You done brought your state ignominy
And I thought you guys were supposed to be nice
Motherfucking banality
Sad tattered old man, heart on sleeve
Don't like what you see?
Don't like what I say?
Then feel free to take up the issue
With me
Self-righteous goddamn Golden Rat proclaim
What's this I heard about acting nice?
Fuck your state, and I thought you are supposed to be nice?
Hey listen hear Abel and Cain
Hey listen here, Golden Rat proclaim
I hope you sink a hundred thousand times
In your bullshit ten thousand lakes
I hope you sink a hundred thousand times
In your goddamned ten thousand lakes.
(This is a fast, angry punk song I wrote after this sad, old man cursed me out on a plane landing in Minneapolis's airport. Fuck that sad ol' cocksucker. 6/17/10 - 6:15 PM, CST)
A state of moral bankruptcy, foreclose the same
What happened to old fashioned politeness, good ol' boy?
You bring your state ill fame
You done brought your state ignominy
And I thought you guys were supposed to be nice
Motherfucking banality
Sad tattered old man, heart on sleeve
Don't like what you see?
Don't like what I say?
Then feel free to take up the issue
With me
Self-righteous goddamn Golden Rat proclaim
What's this I heard about acting nice?
Fuck your state, and I thought you are supposed to be nice?
Hey listen hear Abel and Cain
Hey listen here, Golden Rat proclaim
I hope you sink a hundred thousand times
In your bullshit ten thousand lakes
I hope you sink a hundred thousand times
In your goddamned ten thousand lakes.
(This is a fast, angry punk song I wrote after this sad, old man cursed me out on a plane landing in Minneapolis's airport. Fuck that sad ol' cocksucker. 6/17/10 - 6:15 PM, CST)
States: Carolina
It worries me
I see every little ache and pain
As burdened proof of epic failure
Unite
Encouraging
I feel every delighted slight
As unencumbered news of surefire success
Bleeding
I missed my stop this time
And now the ferry's sailed
Across the marsh; not returning
So I've built a fire
And next to the dark I lie
Trembling
This is the state I'm in
This is the state I'll be
Carolina burning
Sink in the marsh off Gold Bug avenue
(7/13/10 - 3:51 PM)
I see every little ache and pain
As burdened proof of epic failure
Unite
Encouraging
I feel every delighted slight
As unencumbered news of surefire success
Bleeding
I missed my stop this time
And now the ferry's sailed
Across the marsh; not returning
So I've built a fire
And next to the dark I lie
Trembling
This is the state I'm in
This is the state I'll be
Carolina burning
Sink in the marsh off Gold Bug avenue
(7/13/10 - 3:51 PM)
The Owner Men
The bank is something more than men
I tell you
It's the monster
Men made it
But they can't control it.
Yet there is neither darkness or light;
Just an unbroken dance of shadows.
The bank is something more I tell you
It's the monster, men make it,
But they can't control it.
(Interpretation of a passage from "The Grapes of Wrath", 1939, by John Steinbeck)
(6/22/10 - 11:11 AM)
I tell you
It's the monster
Men made it
But they can't control it.
Yet there is neither darkness or light;
Just an unbroken dance of shadows.
The bank is something more I tell you
It's the monster, men make it,
But they can't control it.
(Interpretation of a passage from "The Grapes of Wrath", 1939, by John Steinbeck)
(6/22/10 - 11:11 AM)
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
A Drop in The Ocean
That is true. I am a drop in the ocean, but I'm also the ocean. I'm a drop in America, but I'm also America. Every pain, every confusion, every good and every bad and every ugly of America is in me. And as I'm able to transform myself and heal myself and take care of myself, I'm very conscious that I'm healing and transforming and taking care of America. Particularly I'm saying this for American cynics, but this is also true globally. And so as we're able, however small, however slowly, it's for real.
-Larry Ward
-Larry Ward
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