this video needs no comment as it is clearly pure gold. However it is imperative to know that i am a Democrat, and that this is a legit political commercial. (What is this nation coming to??!!)
Friday, December 14, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Soyinka "Telephone Conversation"
The price seemed reasonable, location
Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived
Off premises. Nothing remained
But self-confession. "Madam," I warned,
"I hate a wasted journey--I am African."
Silence. Silenced transmission of
Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came,
Lipstick coated, long gold-rolled
Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was foully.
"HOW DARK?" . . . I had not misheard . . . "ARE YOU LIGHT
OR VERY DARK?" Button B, Button A. Stench
Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak.
Red booth. Red pillar box. Red double-tiered
Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed
By ill-mannered silence, surrender
Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.
Considerate she was, varying the emphasis--
"ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?" Revelation came.
"You mean--like plain or milk chocolate?"
Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light
Impersonality. Rapidly, wave-length adjusted,
I chose. "West African sepia"--and as afterthought,
"Down in my passport." Silence for spectroscopic
Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent
Hard on the mouthpiece. "WHAT'S THAT?" conceding
"DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS." "Like brunette."
"THAT'S DARK, ISN'T IT?" "Not altogether.
Facially, I am brunette, but, madam, you should see
The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet
Are a peroxide blond. Friction, caused--
Foolishly, madam--by sitting down, has turned
My bottom raven black--One moment, madam!"--sensing
Her receiver rearing on the thunderclap
About my ears--"Madam," I pleaded, "wouldn't you rather
See for yourself?"
This poem brought an immediate smile to my face when I first read it. I love the way it starts off kind of dismal. The reader thinks "the land lord is a racist pig, this poor guy will never get a room!" But at the end of the poem he gets the last laugh.
Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived
Off premises. Nothing remained
But self-confession. "Madam," I warned,
"I hate a wasted journey--I am African."
Silence. Silenced transmission of
Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came,
Lipstick coated, long gold-rolled
Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was foully.
"HOW DARK?" . . . I had not misheard . . . "ARE YOU LIGHT
OR VERY DARK?" Button B, Button A. Stench
Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak.
Red booth. Red pillar box. Red double-tiered
Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed
By ill-mannered silence, surrender
Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.
Considerate she was, varying the emphasis--
"ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?" Revelation came.
"You mean--like plain or milk chocolate?"
Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light
Impersonality. Rapidly, wave-length adjusted,
I chose. "West African sepia"--and as afterthought,
"Down in my passport." Silence for spectroscopic
Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent
Hard on the mouthpiece. "WHAT'S THAT?" conceding
"DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS." "Like brunette."
"THAT'S DARK, ISN'T IT?" "Not altogether.
Facially, I am brunette, but, madam, you should see
The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet
Are a peroxide blond. Friction, caused--
Foolishly, madam--by sitting down, has turned
My bottom raven black--One moment, madam!"--sensing
Her receiver rearing on the thunderclap
About my ears--"Madam," I pleaded, "wouldn't you rather
See for yourself?"
This poem brought an immediate smile to my face when I first read it. I love the way it starts off kind of dismal. The reader thinks "the land lord is a racist pig, this poor guy will never get a room!" But at the end of the poem he gets the last laugh.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Messy Room by Shel Silverstein
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or--
Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!
this poem reminds me too well of my dorm room, especially after the weekend. i always get a feeling of dismay walking into my room and seeing the condition it is in.
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or--
Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!
this poem reminds me too well of my dorm room, especially after the weekend. i always get a feeling of dismay walking into my room and seeing the condition it is in.
Anteater by Shel Silverstein
"A genuine anteater,"
The pet man told me dad.
Turned out, it was an aunt eater,
And now my uncle's mad!
The pet man told me dad.
Turned out, it was an aunt eater,
And now my uncle's mad!
The Giving Tree
This has to be one of my favorite childhood books of all time (well of all childhood). Also it was written by Shell Silverstein, who is undoubtedly my favorite childhood poet.
The books looks at all sorts of generosity and forms of giving that are much deeper than most children's books. I remember having this book memorized before i could even read the words. I haven't read it in the longest time, but i would love to see what kind of themes i could pick up on now that i am closer to adulthood.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
the charm of 5:30
It's too nice a day to read a novel set in England.
We're within inches of the perfect distance from the sun,
the sky is blueberries and cream,
and the wind is as warm as air from a tire.
Even the headstones in the graveyard
Seem to stand up and say "Hello! My name is..."
It's enough to be sitting here on my porch,
thinking about Kermit Roosevelt,
following the course of an ant,
or walking out into the yard with a cordless phone
to find out she is going to be there tonight
On a day like today, what looks like bad news in the distance
turns out to be something on my contact, carports and white
courtesy phones are spontaneously reappreciated
and random "okay"s ring through the backyards.
This morning I discovered the red tints in cola
when I held a glass of it up to the light
and found an expensive flashlight in the pocket of a winter coat
I was packing away for summer.
It all reminds me of that moment when you take off your sunglasses
after a long drive and realize it's earlier
and lighter out than you had accounted for.
You know what I'm talking about,
and that's the kind of fellowship that's taking place in town, out in
the public spaces. You won't overhear anyone using the words
"dramaturgy" or "state inspection today. We're too busy getting along.
It occurs to me that the laws are in the regions and the regions are
in the laws, and it feels good to say this, something that I'm almost
sure is true, outside under the sun.
Then to say it again, around friends, in the resonant voice of a
nineteenth-century senator, just for a lark.
There's a shy looking fellow on the courthouse steps, holding up a
placard that says "But, I kinda liked Reagan." His head turns slowly
as a beautiful girl walks by, holding a refrigerated bottle up against
her flushed cheek.
She smiles at me and I allow myself to imagine her walking into
town to buy lotion at a brick pharmacy.
When she gets home she'll apply it with great lingering care before
moving into her parlor to play 78 records and drink gin-and-tonics
beside her homemade altar to James Madison.
In a town of this size, it's certainly possible that I'll be invited over
one night.
In fact I'll bet you something.
Somewhere in the future I am remembering today. I'll bet you
I'm remembering how I walked into the park at five thirty,
my favorite time of day, and how I found two cold pitchers
of just poured beer, sitting there on the bench.
I am remembering how my friend Chip showed up
with a catcher's mask hanging from his belt and how I said
great to see you, sit down, have a beer, how are you,
and how he turned to me with the sunset reflecting off his contacts
and said, wonderful, how are you.
This poem makes me feel warm inside, literally. The imagery used in it and the use of color leave the feeling of the perfectly sculpted summer day, not so much in a nostalgic sense, but in the here and now.
We're within inches of the perfect distance from the sun,
the sky is blueberries and cream,
and the wind is as warm as air from a tire.
Even the headstones in the graveyard
Seem to stand up and say "Hello! My name is..."
It's enough to be sitting here on my porch,
thinking about Kermit Roosevelt,
following the course of an ant,
or walking out into the yard with a cordless phone
to find out she is going to be there tonight
On a day like today, what looks like bad news in the distance
turns out to be something on my contact, carports and white
courtesy phones are spontaneously reappreciated
and random "okay"s ring through the backyards.
This morning I discovered the red tints in cola
when I held a glass of it up to the light
and found an expensive flashlight in the pocket of a winter coat
I was packing away for summer.
It all reminds me of that moment when you take off your sunglasses
after a long drive and realize it's earlier
and lighter out than you had accounted for.
You know what I'm talking about,
and that's the kind of fellowship that's taking place in town, out in
the public spaces. You won't overhear anyone using the words
"dramaturgy" or "state inspection today. We're too busy getting along.
It occurs to me that the laws are in the regions and the regions are
in the laws, and it feels good to say this, something that I'm almost
sure is true, outside under the sun.
Then to say it again, around friends, in the resonant voice of a
nineteenth-century senator, just for a lark.
There's a shy looking fellow on the courthouse steps, holding up a
placard that says "But, I kinda liked Reagan." His head turns slowly
as a beautiful girl walks by, holding a refrigerated bottle up against
her flushed cheek.
She smiles at me and I allow myself to imagine her walking into
town to buy lotion at a brick pharmacy.
When she gets home she'll apply it with great lingering care before
moving into her parlor to play 78 records and drink gin-and-tonics
beside her homemade altar to James Madison.
In a town of this size, it's certainly possible that I'll be invited over
one night.
In fact I'll bet you something.
Somewhere in the future I am remembering today. I'll bet you
I'm remembering how I walked into the park at five thirty,
my favorite time of day, and how I found two cold pitchers
of just poured beer, sitting there on the bench.
I am remembering how my friend Chip showed up
with a catcher's mask hanging from his belt and how I said
great to see you, sit down, have a beer, how are you,
and how he turned to me with the sunset reflecting off his contacts
and said, wonderful, how are you.
This poem makes me feel warm inside, literally. The imagery used in it and the use of color leave the feeling of the perfectly sculpted summer day, not so much in a nostalgic sense, but in the here and now.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
emergency room part I
this man is hilarious, or at least i think so, but then again this is my common place so i guess that is all that matters. i saw him in ithaca new york at the state street theater. i loved the show, but my two friends (from long island go figure) didn't crack a smile. i was going through conniptions however.
Harryette Muller' "Land of the discount price, home of the brand name"
my large magnetic flag proudly displays Old Glory
as i drive to Family Dollar for the makings of a Fourth of July picnic
I pledge allegiance to my MasterCard
that is honored in more stores than America Express
Oh beautiful, those spacious aisles stacked high with seasonal items!
My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of Lipton instant ice tea!
I've clipped a terrific recipe from Sunday's paper. A Betsy Ross
rectangular cake covered with strawberries, blueberries
and Cool Whip,
with a coupon for the Cool Whip.
On Independence Day, our all-American front porch shows our true colors
with patriotic bunting and bows, only $3.99 a yard (reg. $4.99).
Our backyard guests relax at our holiday picnic table,
thematically decorated with 10 oz. Stars and Stripes plastic tumblers,
matching table runner, paper plates and napkins from Dixie.
as my hubby grills the red meat and toast the whit buns under a
blue sky.
our son shows the neighbor kids his World Peacekeepers
Patriot Soldier,
a twelve inch fully posable action figure that plays the
national anthem
I love the way that this poem pokes fun at the American view of patriotism, and how shallow and worthless it is. "So what if things are all red white and blue? They were bought with cheap money at cheap stores. It means nothing." is what Muller is trying to say with this witty bit of prose.
as i drive to Family Dollar for the makings of a Fourth of July picnic
I pledge allegiance to my MasterCard
that is honored in more stores than America Express
Oh beautiful, those spacious aisles stacked high with seasonal items!
My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of Lipton instant ice tea!
I've clipped a terrific recipe from Sunday's paper. A Betsy Ross
rectangular cake covered with strawberries, blueberries
and Cool Whip,
with a coupon for the Cool Whip.
On Independence Day, our all-American front porch shows our true colors
with patriotic bunting and bows, only $3.99 a yard (reg. $4.99).
Our backyard guests relax at our holiday picnic table,
thematically decorated with 10 oz. Stars and Stripes plastic tumblers,
matching table runner, paper plates and napkins from Dixie.
as my hubby grills the red meat and toast the whit buns under a
blue sky.
our son shows the neighbor kids his World Peacekeepers
Patriot Soldier,
a twelve inch fully posable action figure that plays the
national anthem
I love the way that this poem pokes fun at the American view of patriotism, and how shallow and worthless it is. "So what if things are all red white and blue? They were bought with cheap money at cheap stores. It means nothing." is what Muller is trying to say with this witty bit of prose.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Power Thirst = AWSOME
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SrPIRYhdnqs
HEY THIS IS THE FUNNIEST VIDEO I HAVE EVER SEEN. I TEARED THE FIRST TIME I SAW IT. I LOVE THE FAST SPEED AND RANDOM POP OUT PUNCHLINES. I HOPE YOU ENJOY, AND IF NOT THAT'S OK BECAUSE IT IS NOT FOR EVERYONE.
and if you really do like it there is a second one (originally and aptly named power thirst 2 on you tube)
HEY THIS IS THE FUNNIEST VIDEO I HAVE EVER SEEN. I TEARED THE FIRST TIME I SAW IT. I LOVE THE FAST SPEED AND RANDOM POP OUT PUNCHLINES. I HOPE YOU ENJOY, AND IF NOT THAT'S OK BECAUSE IT IS NOT FOR EVERYONE.
and if you really do like it there is a second one (originally and aptly named power thirst 2 on you tube)
Monday, November 26, 2007
DISTURBIA: a well thought out mix of a thriller.
This film was unreal. I usually do not like scary movies which is fine because this isn't exactly a scary flick, just very intense. It combines a perfect amount romance, humor, teen angst, and emotion for any good movie. All of these elements are then combined at the end with numerous plot twists and turns, as well as edge of your seat suspense for a block busting cliffhanger. It is about a kid who is put under house arrest for hitting a teacher after he (the teacher) insulted the memory of his late father. Since he is cooped up the entire summer turns to spying on his neighbors for fun. What starts off as a joke to keep him entertained becomes too real when too many coincidences add up between news casts about an at large serial killer/ kidnapper, and his mysterious next door neighbor. Yhis is a must see movie that had me going the whole time.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Power Of Equality
I've got a soul
That can not sleep
At night when something
Just ain't right
Blood red
But without sight
Exploding egos
In the night
Mix like sticks
Of dynamite
Red black or white
This is my fight
Come on courage
Let's be heard
Turn feelings
Into words
American equality
Has always been sour
An attitude
I would like to devour
My name is peace
This is my hour
Can I get
Just a little bit of power
[Chorus]
The power of equality
Is not yet what it ought to be
It fills me up like a hollow tree
The power of equality
Right or wrong
My song is strong
You don't like it
Get along
Say what I want
Do what I can
Death to the message
Of the Ku Klux Klan
I don't buy supremacy
Media chief
You menance me
The people you say
Cause all the crime
Wake up mother***ker
And smell the slime
Blackest anger
Whitest fear
Can you hear me
Am I clear
My name is peace
This is my hour
Can I get
Just a little bit of power
[Chorus]
I've got tapes
I've got c.d.'s
I've got my Public Enemy
My lilly white ass
Is tickled pink
When I listen to the music
That makes me think
Not another
Mother***kin' politician
Doin' nothin' but something
For his own ambition
Never touch
The sound we make
Soul sacred love
Vows that we take
To create straight
What is true
Yo he's with me
And what I do
My name is peace
This is my hour
Can I get
Just a little bit of power
[Chorus]
Madder than a mother***ker
Lick my finger
Can't forget
'Cause the memory lingers
Count 'em off quick
Little piccadilly sickness
Take me to the hick
Eat my thickness
I've got a welt
From the Bible belt
Dealing with the hand
That I've been dealt
Sitting in the grip
Of a killing fist
Giving up blood
Just to exist
Rub me wrong
And I get pissed
No I can not
Get to this
People in pain
I do not dig it
Change of brain
For Mr. Bigot
Little brother do you hear me
Have a heart oh come get near me
Misery is not my friend
But I'll break before I bend
What I see is insanity
Whatever happened to humanity
The Red Hot Chili Peppers are my favorite band of all time, and this is one of my favorite songs by them. this is one mad dude who wrote this, and it is a great kick off to their Blood Sugar Sex Magic album. Although the song was written in the late eighties/ early nineties it is even more powerful today with all of the questionable things that our Bush administration, and other such right winged things are doing.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Anthem
This is one of those books that you base your life values on. I have never been moved by a piece of literature like this one, and I think that everyone should read it. It was recommended to me by two very important people in my Jr. High School career upon my graduation from Sr. High.
It depicts an Earth that has been torn apart, and that all people are considered one body, mind and soul. There is no love, no progress, and no sense of individuality. The words I, me, and mine have been eradicated, but one man speaks out against this, and becomes an individual. He saves himself.
This is a celebration of the individual. A concept that should never be lost.
JABBERWOCKY
Lewis Carroll
(from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872) `Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.
`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
the windhover by Gerard Manley Hopkins
| To Christ Our Lord | |
| I CAUGHT this morning morning’s minion, king- | ||
| dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding | ||
| Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding | ||
| High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing | ||
| In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing, | 5 | |
| As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding | ||
| Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding | ||
| Stirred for a bird,—the achieve of; the mastery of the thing! | ||
| Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here | ||
| Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion | 10 | |
| Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier! | ||
| No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion | ||
| Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear, | ||
| Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion. This is a very interesting poem, and when read at a glance it seems almost Louis Carrollesque. But it's not. Ithacappella is doing a song to these words, and the song is written by Earnest Backus, our director. It should be a stunning piece, very dissonant, and syncopated. I hope the audience enjoys | ||
Faithless
I've got my own moral compass to steer by A guiding star beats a spirit in the sky And all the preaching voices - Empty vessels of dreams so loud As they move among the crowd Fools and thieves are well disguised In the temple and market place Like a stone in the river Against the floods of spring I will quietly resist Like the willows in the wind Or the cliffs along the ocean I will quietly resist I don't have faith in faith I don't believe in belief You can call me faithless I still cling to hope And I believe in love And that's faith enough for me I've got my own spirit level for balance To tell if my choice is leaning up or down And all the shouting voices Try to throw me off my course Some by sermon, some by force Fools and thieves are dangerous In the temple and market place Like a forest bows to winter Beneath the deep white silence I will quietly resist Like a flower in the desert That only blooms at night I will quietly resist
This is a very powerful song written by the trio of Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson, and Neil Pert. They are known as the power trio Rush, the most influential progressive rock band from the 70's and 80's. This is off of their latest album Snakes and Arrows, which I was lucky enough to see the tour for. This song is a rebellion against fundamental religion. "A guiding star beats a spirit in the sky" this line is saying that it is better to rely on tangible things for guidance and strength. The rest of the song, if you look closely goes on tho rebuke the forced teachings of preachers, and false profits.
However there is something very important about this song that must not be over looked. the narrator insists that although he has little faith in God he still believes is hope and love and that he is not bleak in his faithlessness.
Also this song was written after the death of Geddy's wife, and daughter.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
I Am McLovin
"Prepare to be f***ed by the long d**k of the law"
This quote essentially makes the movie Super Bad. Or at least it think it does. I love how it is a completely obscene parody of "the long arm of the law", and the delivery right after the "I assume you all have GUNS and CRACK" line is simply perfect. Both verbal vulgarities follow what is called a comedy beat, which is the rhythm that jokes or punch lines are delivered which make them funny.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Fleas
Fleas. by Ogden Nash
Adam
Had'm
You may think it a joke to put this silly poem into my common place, but there is quite the many things that could be said about it.
First look at the structure. it consists of two feet, two lines two stanzas and, most notably, two words. It is also written in iambic DIameter. The poem is also neatly rhymed, so in two words, Nash has constructed the perfect poem. It is short, it easily rolls off the tongue, and it conveys a deep and ponderous message. That Adam (who soever he is) had fleas.
This may be seen as a slight on the story of Genesis. Perhaps Nash is attacking the Bible by saying that the "first of all men" had fleas. Seeing as how Nash is a poet for children, and most of his works are of no deep consequence, I am to disregard this angle, I think the name Adam was used because it so conveniently rhymes with had'm. George had'm would not work at all, neither would Jack had'm. No other name but Adam would fit into this scheme. Take for instance a girl's name like Mary. Mary had'm fist just as well as Jack and George. Not only that but it is unpleasant to think of a girl having fleas, it simply won't do.
Thus I conclude that this is the greatest poem ever written by a human being and that one would have to be a sheer nincompoop to think contrarily.
Adam
Had'm
You may think it a joke to put this silly poem into my common place, but there is quite the many things that could be said about it.
First look at the structure. it consists of two feet, two lines two stanzas and, most notably, two words. It is also written in iambic DIameter. The poem is also neatly rhymed, so in two words, Nash has constructed the perfect poem. It is short, it easily rolls off the tongue, and it conveys a deep and ponderous message. That Adam (who soever he is) had fleas.
This may be seen as a slight on the story of Genesis. Perhaps Nash is attacking the Bible by saying that the "first of all men" had fleas. Seeing as how Nash is a poet for children, and most of his works are of no deep consequence, I am to disregard this angle, I think the name Adam was used because it so conveniently rhymes with had'm. George had'm would not work at all, neither would Jack had'm. No other name but Adam would fit into this scheme. Take for instance a girl's name like Mary. Mary had'm fist just as well as Jack and George. Not only that but it is unpleasant to think of a girl having fleas, it simply won't do.
Thus I conclude that this is the greatest poem ever written by a human being and that one would have to be a sheer nincompoop to think contrarily.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
a contemptable standard
"He had not only a dislike, but a sort of moral mistrust, of uncomfortable thoughts, and it was both uncomfortable and slightly contemptible to feel obliged to square with a standard. "
The American Chapter Five
by Henry James
The character of Henry James' Christopher Newman is an excellent one. He is a devout capitalist, and a self made man. Not only that, he is a compulsive thinker, traveler, and optimist. He demands the best for himself, yet he is not uppity or hard to get along with; he just fails to see why anyone should agree to second rate.
The above quote, I think, embodies a lot of his ideals, along with a lot of mine, the most important one being non conformism. I vehemently despise the popped collar Abecrombie ideals of today's pop culture. It is far better to be known for your own tastes then how good you look in others.
The American Chapter Five
by Henry James
The character of Henry James' Christopher Newman is an excellent one. He is a devout capitalist, and a self made man. Not only that, he is a compulsive thinker, traveler, and optimist. He demands the best for himself, yet he is not uppity or hard to get along with; he just fails to see why anyone should agree to second rate.
The above quote, I think, embodies a lot of his ideals, along with a lot of mine, the most important one being non conformism. I vehemently despise the popped collar Abecrombie ideals of today's pop culture. It is far better to be known for your own tastes then how good you look in others.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Incubus's "Dig"
The video isn't the original, but I like it a lot better. It is very symbolic and very subtle (notice how the pieces of head being dug away are hearts). The artist does a very good job portraying emotion as well in the faces of his characters.
"Dig"
We all have a weakness
But some of ours are easier to identify.
Look me in the eye
And ask for forgiveness;
We'll make a pact to never speak that word again
Yes you are my friend.
We all have something that digs at us,
At least we dig each other
So when weakness turns my ego up
I know you'll count on the me from yesterday
If I turn into another
Dig me up from under what is covering
The better part of me
Sing this song
Remind me that we'll always have each other
When everything else is gone.
We all have a sickness
That cleverly attaches and multiplies
No matter how hard we try.
We all have someone that digs at us,
At least we dig each other
So when sickness turns my ego up
I know you'll act as a clever medicine.
If I turn into another
Dig me up from under what is covering
The better part of me.
Sing this song!
Remind me that we'll always have each other
When everything else is gone.
Oh each other....
When everything
Else is gone.
This is a great song, and I am sure you can tell why. I love how moving the lyrics are, as they deal with apology and how the singer is so dependent on his friend to help him when he does something stupid, or at least be understanding. I feel very attached to this song. there have been times when i get ahead of myself and do or say things that i don't mean, but my friends are still there to help me get back on track, and they remain close to me just the same.
"Dig"
We all have a weakness
But some of ours are easier to identify.
Look me in the eye
And ask for forgiveness;
We'll make a pact to never speak that word again
Yes you are my friend.
We all have something that digs at us,
At least we dig each other
So when weakness turns my ego up
I know you'll count on the me from yesterday
If I turn into another
Dig me up from under what is covering
The better part of me
Sing this song
Remind me that we'll always have each other
When everything else is gone.
We all have a sickness
That cleverly attaches and multiplies
No matter how hard we try.
We all have someone that digs at us,
At least we dig each other
So when sickness turns my ego up
I know you'll act as a clever medicine.
If I turn into another
Dig me up from under what is covering
The better part of me.
Sing this song!
Remind me that we'll always have each other
When everything else is gone.
Oh each other....
When everything
Else is gone.
This is a great song, and I am sure you can tell why. I love how moving the lyrics are, as they deal with apology and how the singer is so dependent on his friend to help him when he does something stupid, or at least be understanding. I feel very attached to this song. there have been times when i get ahead of myself and do or say things that i don't mean, but my friends are still there to help me get back on track, and they remain close to me just the same.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
I'm the ORIGINAL iron-jawed, brass-mounted, copper-bellied corpse-maker from the wilds of Arkansas! Look at me! I'm the man they call Sudden Death and General Desolation! Sired by a hurricane, dam'd by an earthquake, half brother to the cholera, nearly related to the small-pox on the mother's side! Look at me! I take 19 alligators and a bar'll of whiskey when I'm in robust health , and a bushel of rattlesnakes and a dead body when I'm ailing! I split the everlasting rocks with my glance, and I quench the thunder when I speak. Stand back and give me room according to my strength! Blood's my natural drink, and the wails of the dying is music to my ears! Cast your eyes on me gentlemen- and lay low and hold your breath, for I'm 'bout to turn myself loose!!!
This text is possibly the most bad-a** thing i have ever read. It appears in chapter XVI of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn By Mark Twain (Sam Clemens). This part of the chapter never actually appeared in the book until after Twain's death, when editors decided the passage was important. the whole scene barely includes Huck and Jim, but deals heavily with life as a raftsman on the Mississippi river.
The above quote is a preamble to a fight which is contested with an even more long winded, but not nearly as powerful, retort by a character who calls himself "the child of calamity"
I love how powerful the threat is yet it has no swearing, just well selected verbiage.
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