My Friend Mourns on a Coach

the out of tune guitar
hums angrily
forced to sing
by an unloved hand   
assisting to proclaim
the glories of the earth abroad
the honors of a name
that hurts my lips
to say right now
sitting next to those
sitting next to me
with their heavy
and their out of tune
and their loud
and their noise
and some say that.s the sound
of the saints and you.re
avant-garde

My First Rebellion

i've started writing poetry again
because what else is there to do
when you hang out by yourself at night
which is a really stupid question
because there.s plenty of other
things to do

(let.s remain close to the ground my poet friend said
which is not really a possibility
when you.re writing poetry
but i say sure let.s )

it.s taken me a year and a half to get
used to humble origins and my core
which has never changed despite
the many layers i.ve gained through
friendship and environment changes

when you dig deep into the layered self
the blood runs thick
when you reach the other side
theoretically because it.s not really a possibility
without serious damage to the self
you find that there.s no center and
are able to say with confidence everything is a layer
without sounding heavy handed
except when you say it to other people or in a poem

layers are a good thing
some people pay for them
and many of us put them on when it.s cold
good art has many layers
and this is not good art
this is a lazy diary entry
this is a letter to a friend

poetry was my first rebellion
from grammar and rules
against institution and structure
love of the common people
was half of a band name
whole of people i love
and the words of a tattoo i will get one day

my last rebellion
will hopefully not be a poem

My First Story

A man woke up and realized something was wrong.

He talked it over with his best friend, and they came to the conclusion that the world and people were imperfect.

Upon finishing the conversation, the man said to his friend, "You know, Fred, if we solved this, we could make a lot of money"

Hymns

"I'm not actually a Christian with a capital C. I'm still asking questions. But I had this time when I found myself singing all these old hymns in my kitchen and I couldn't work out why I was doing it. Then one Sunday morning I got up, looked at my watch, and thought, 'I wonder if I could make it to a church service?' It was so welcoming. It just felt like you were coming home. Twelve years later, I've never left."

-Stuart Murdoch

Can't get enough.

This song is so damn good...





Inspired me to go look for news on the infamous rapper and, to my sweet surprise, discovered a live performance of one of his new song that samples Billy Joel's Movin' Out!

Bolano, you have revived literature for me, however briefly.

"For a while, Criticism travels side by side with the Work, then Criticism vanishes and it's the Readers who keep pace.  The journey may be long or short.  Then the Readers die one by one and the Work continues on alone, although a new Criticism and new Readers gradually fall into step with it along its path.  Then Criticism dies again and the Readers die again and the Work passes over a trail of bones on its journey toward solitude.  To come near the work, to sail in her wake, is a sign of certain death, but new Criticism and new Readers approach her tirelessly and relentlessly and are devoured by time and speed.  Finally the Work journeys irremediably alone in the Great Vastness.  And one day the Work dies, as all things must die and come to an end: the Sun and the Earth and the Solar System and the Galaxy and the farthest reaches of man's memory.  Everything that begins as comedy end as tragedy."

Gold from Robert Bolano's Savage Detectives.

'Hm, good point,' I thought from my comfortable coach in my safe, suburban home...

"There are people who trust in the infectious power of nonviolence: sooner or later it will be crowned with success.  In this belief, however, one can smell a bit too much of the sweet aroma of a suburban ideology, entertained often by people who are neither courageous nor honest enough to reflect on the implications of terror taking place right in the middle of their living rooms.  The rood of nonviolence in the world of violence often leads to suffering: one can sometimes break the cycle of violence only at the price of one's life, as the example of Jesus demonstrates.  If history is any guide, the prospects are good that nonviolence will fail to dislodge violence."

From Miroslav Volf's Exclusion & Embrace