song of the week: deep purple, soldier of fortune
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ya2Ix9JoHG8
boy, a grand old rock song with footage from my favourite game. this is so good it should be illegal.
i have often told you stories about the way
i lived the life of a drifter, waiting for the day
when i'd take your hand and sing you songs and maybe you would say
come lay with with and love me, and i would surely stay
my head's in a mess. besides that, calm. i figure i'm waiting, but for what? i guess it's a keener kind of waiting, which is to say i think it's closer. again, for what? and this time i can't answer. i can't say. impossible to say.
i accept it as the price to pay for liking someone. to call it hidden costs would over-simplify the idea, but it's no less correct from a bemused point of view. dismay, at a moment's notice.
so i am not so steady after all. it was probably, certainly, easier when i didn't entertain the idea of girls. it was then an illusion to think that i was, okay.
and that is not to say that my foundations are not built on solid rock. but it is accurate to say that i saw the wind and began to sink. nor is it to say that i left home with my share, but it is accurate to say that thorns grew with me. neither would i agree that i worried or ran after things (as a pagan), but i would say that my heart was not always with the treasure in the field.
so help me, Lord. take this cup away, yet not my will, etc.
but i feel i'm growing older
and the songs that i have sung echo in the distance
like the sound of a windmill going round
guess i'll always be a soldier of fortune
i'm not ready to quit. but i was hoping it would be easier. i guess it's not a strategic patience but a tactical patience i'm for.
and i think you could see it in my eyes.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
LXVIII - why couldn't we drive it out
When they came to the other disciples, they saw a large crowd around them and the teachers of the law arguing with them. As soon as all the people saw Jesus, they were overwhelmed with wonder and ran to greet him.
“What are you arguing with them about?” he asked.
A man in the crowd answered, “Teacher, I brought you my son, who is possessed by a spirit that has robbed him of speech. Whenever it seizes him, it throws him to the ground. He foams at the mouth, gnashes his teeth and becomes rigid. I asked your disciples to drive out the spirit, but they could not.”
“You unbelieving generation,” Jesus replied, “how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you? Bring the boy to me.”
So they brought him. When the spirit saw Jesus, it immediately threw the boy into a convulsion. He fell to the ground and rolled around, foaming at the mouth.
Jesus asked the boy’s father, “How long has he been like this?”
“From childhood,” he answered. “It has often thrown him into fire or water to kill him. But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”
“‘If you can’?” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for one who believes.”
Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”
When Jesus saw that a crowd was running to the scene, he rebuked the impure spirit. “You deaf and mute spirit,” he said, “I command you, come out of him and never enter him again.”
The spirit shrieked, convulsed him violently and came out. The boy looked so much like a corpse that many said, “He’s dead.” But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him to his feet, and he stood up.
After Jesus had gone indoors, his disciples asked him privately, “Why couldn’t we drive it out?”
He replied, “This kind can come out only by prayer and fasting.”
A man in the crowd answered, “Teacher, I brought you my son, who is possessed by a spirit that has robbed him of speech. Whenever it seizes him, it throws him to the ground. He foams at the mouth, gnashes his teeth and becomes rigid. I asked your disciples to drive out the spirit, but they could not.”
“You unbelieving generation,” Jesus replied, “how long shall I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you? Bring the boy to me.”
So they brought him. When the spirit saw Jesus, it immediately threw the boy into a convulsion. He fell to the ground and rolled around, foaming at the mouth.
Jesus asked the boy’s father, “How long has he been like this?”
“From childhood,” he answered. “It has often thrown him into fire or water to kill him. But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”
“‘If you can’?” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for one who believes.”
Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”
When Jesus saw that a crowd was running to the scene, he rebuked the impure spirit. “You deaf and mute spirit,” he said, “I command you, come out of him and never enter him again.”
The spirit shrieked, convulsed him violently and came out. The boy looked so much like a corpse that many said, “He’s dead.” But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him to his feet, and he stood up.
After Jesus had gone indoors, his disciples asked him privately, “Why couldn’t we drive it out?”
He replied, “This kind can come out only by prayer and fasting.”
Thursday, May 19, 2011
LXVII - mopeying
song of the week: matchbox 20, if you're gone
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=clKAdQnwJ7A
last week was beautiful. i didn't write about it, or even write it down, so i've forgotten most of what happened. but i didn't really want to write about it either - to quote one of my favourite pianists, mutatis mutandis, the music played was improvised on a certain night and should go as quickly as it comes. and i think i'd like to live a little more like that. life is fleeting, and the present might be sufficient if i let it. the things that are imprinted (fondly or not) on our memories will eventually return.
i keep seeing things around me that remind me of scenes in norwegian wood. in those moments, i always want to ask people if they've read the book; i want to talk to them about the thoughts i've drawn from it, that mean so much to me. i don't think i've ever had a favourite book before this one.
one of my favourite parts is when the girl the main character (Toru) loves talks about the boy she first loved (Kizuki, their childhood friend, killed himself). the three were usually always together, and toru always thought kizuki was charming and brilliant. but she tells him that when toru wasn't there, kizuki always felt inadequate and frustrated with himself, and was ashamed to be with her at those moments. and she tells toru that she always loved the weak side of kizuki as much as his strong side, but he never realised it. i love this idea.
the unbearable lightness of being is incredible. i don't think anyone could get it from reading it once. it's the thinnest but hardest-to-grasp book i've ever had. the author is incredibly gifted at creating scenes and interpreting them, and each scene is quite remarkable, each explores the human condition so brilliantly. it's so melancholic and despairing, but it's also so filled with understanding and empathy. we are all deeply flawed, yet capable of compassion. a quote from part 2 chapter 11:
i get the feeling it won't be, again. and that is really, really terrific.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=clKAdQnwJ7A
last week was beautiful. i didn't write about it, or even write it down, so i've forgotten most of what happened. but i didn't really want to write about it either - to quote one of my favourite pianists, mutatis mutandis, the music played was improvised on a certain night and should go as quickly as it comes. and i think i'd like to live a little more like that. life is fleeting, and the present might be sufficient if i let it. the things that are imprinted (fondly or not) on our memories will eventually return.
i keep seeing things around me that remind me of scenes in norwegian wood. in those moments, i always want to ask people if they've read the book; i want to talk to them about the thoughts i've drawn from it, that mean so much to me. i don't think i've ever had a favourite book before this one.
one of my favourite parts is when the girl the main character (Toru) loves talks about the boy she first loved (Kizuki, their childhood friend, killed himself). the three were usually always together, and toru always thought kizuki was charming and brilliant. but she tells him that when toru wasn't there, kizuki always felt inadequate and frustrated with himself, and was ashamed to be with her at those moments. and she tells toru that she always loved the weak side of kizuki as much as his strong side, but he never realised it. i love this idea.
the unbearable lightness of being is incredible. i don't think anyone could get it from reading it once. it's the thinnest but hardest-to-grasp book i've ever had. the author is incredibly gifted at creating scenes and interpreting them, and each scene is quite remarkable, each explores the human condition so brilliantly. it's so melancholic and despairing, but it's also so filled with understanding and empathy. we are all deeply flawed, yet capable of compassion. a quote from part 2 chapter 11:
"... human lives are are composed [novelistically], ... like music. Guided by his sense of beauty, an individual transforms a fortuitous occurrence (Beethoven's music, death under a train) into a motif, which then assumes a permanent place in the composition of the individual's life. Anna could have chosen another way to take her life. But the motif of death and the railway station, unforgettably bound to the birth of love, enticed her in her hour of despair with its dark beauty. Without realising it, the individual composes his life according to the laws of beauty even in times of greatest distress.
It is wrong, then, to chide the novel for being fascinated by mysterious occurrences (like the meeting of Anna, Vronsky, the railway station and death or the meeting of Beethoven, Tomas, Tereza, and the cognac), but it is right to chide man for being blind to such coincidences in his daily life. For he thereby deprives his life of a dimension of beauty."anyway, this week has been dreadful. typically, it's been the doldrums of any good holiday - being bored of doing nothing. it makes me wish for last week, which is superficially ironic: einmal ist keinmal. been thinking and wondering about stuff too much, which makes me mopey and unlikable (a great detraction).
i get the feeling it won't be, again. and that is really, really terrific.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
LXVI - after wistful
i find myself drifting, detachedly, into a reflective reverie. and i wonder if i miss you. i wonder why i'm lost without you. or rather why i hide. unwilling to allow the effusive sides of myself to appear. withdrawn, restrained, distracted. faraway.
and i guess that i don't know what i want. i guess that if i knew i'd be alright with and without you. but i'm not really there now, and for awhile now.
you make me want to be me.
and i guess that i don't know what i want. i guess that if i knew i'd be alright with and without you. but i'm not really there now, and for awhile now.
you make me want to be me.
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