Thursday, May 3rd, 2007
In other news, it appears that R. Kelly was so moved by the Virginia Tech tragedy, he wrote a song and is dedicating 100% of the profits to the Hokie Spirit Memorial fund. While I initially found this commendable, I was then treated to a sneak peak at some of the lyrics in his tribute song: “Rise Up.” “Rise up, when you feel you can’t go on, rise up, and all of your hope is gone, rise up, when you’re weak and you can’t be strong.” I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait for the next verse, in which he will undoubtedly rhyme “fire” with “desire.” The victims and their families deserve better than this trite, cliche’ ridden publicity stunt.
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Thursday, April 26th, 2007
whatever became of local radio?? what has the loss of local radio to clear channel and the like – what has that done to the fabric of the country? has the death of local radio, fueled by big business and the internet… what has that done to community? Friday, April 20th, 2007
10 reasons to forgive Cho Seung-Hui I have been trying to get my arms around this tragedy all week. I think this is the best I can do. So I now post this open letter to the misguided soul whose place in the world will forever be remembered by his inability to come to terms with it.
If you can do a half-assed job at anything, you're a one-eyed man in a kingdom of the blind.12/21/2012 Thursday, April 12th, 2007
‘Be careful what you pretend to be because you are what you pretend to be.’ ‘Call me Jonah. My parents did, or nearly did. They called me John.’ ‘Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.’ ‘I really wonder what gives us the right to wreck this poor planet of ours.’ ‘I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don’t let anybody tell you different.’ ‘I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can’t see from the center.’ ‘Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.’ ‘People have to talk about something just to keep their voice boxes in working order so they’ll have good voice boxes in case there’s ever anything really meaningful to say.’ ‘Still and all, why bother? Here’s my answer. Many people need desperately to receive this message: I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone.’ ‘The universe is a big place, perhaps the biggest.’ ‘The year was 2081, and everyone was finally equal. We could have saved the Earth but we were too damned cheap.’ ‘To whom it may concern: It is springtime. It is late afternoon.’ ‘What should young people do with their lives today? Many things, obviously. But the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured.’ ‘Who is more to be pitied, a writer bound and gagged by policemen or one living in perfect freedom who has nothing more to say?’ –Kurt Vonnegut Wednesday, April 4th, 2007 Are you sure that's him? the cop asked. He was a real cowboy, this one. Snakeskin boots. Sure I’m sure I’ll never forget that face. It was true. The stark, wide eyes of fear like amazement. A bewildering sense of power and control within them And the terror of wielding it Chaos and consequences cracking like thunder. Just a squeeze away. Scott carried the bank-drop in a brown paper bag Cash and credit card receipts from the store A mild December morning The city yawned. 2 blocks to go. Past the bagel shop The subway The newsstand The bodega The Church Christmas trees lined the sidewalk As we walked past we laughed about our boss Whom we dubbed: the Grey Ghost He was always materializing out of nowhere When we least expected it. And suddenly a man with a gun materialized out of the Christmas trees. We didn’t expect that either. Bright eyes of fearful determination; afraid. There was a pause as silence rolled over us like a wave. I remember thinking: This isn’t really what it appears to be. Give me the fucking bag. The man waved the gun like a crucifix In an arc as if we were vampires. First towards me then Bernardo. My eyes locked on the weapon. Vertical ridges Blunt tip Carbon blue Criss-cross pattern on the handle I tried to find a flaw, but it looked real. Heavy with the weight of bullets. Let go of the fucking bag. Benny’s face was drawn tight. I could see the seriousness of all of this in his flat gaze. The spark of mortality glittered like a diamond out of the blackness of his eyes paralyzed in the moment of uncertainty. The gun then settled on Scott. Eye level. Before it moved to his chest, then found its way to the slight dimple at the base of his throat. The Gunman shouted for the third time. We heard him but for us, time had stopped there was nothing for us to do but float in the limbo of disbelief Give me the fucking bag. Scott didn’t care about the bag or the money in it. We were all shocked into astonished immobility. Fear clenches. Both of Scott’s arms were locked tight around the bag. My jaws, Bernardo’s small fists, Scott’s arms. The gun moved again Now just under Scott’s chin. Beneath his close-clipped salt and pepper beard. His head tilted back under the pressure. Its movement seemed to say: The gun is real. Feel how real it is? Your life is the distance between this hollow barrel and a pointed copper tip. It’s waiting in the chamber. At that moment I thought: Scott is going to die today. I saw the deep brown of Bernardo’s imploring eyes Over the outstretched arm of the gunman A flannel sleeve of brown and beige and cream. Benny spoke softly and with a calmness that defied. Scott. Give him the bag. In a swift motion with his free hand, the gunman tore the bag away out of Scott’s arms. It took him three good pulls to free it. The third pull ripped open the paper sack as it came loose. Bundles of cash in rubber bands bounced on the sidewalk The remainder of the bag and its contents were in the arms of the gunman As he turned and fled down 79th street A flap of brown paper waving loosely behind him as he ran. Sound erupted around us The world reeled us back into its noisy vortex A passing taxi’s tires jarred a manhole cover Pigeons fluttered up to the sky from the steps of the church The squeal of breaks and the smell of diesel as a bus slowed Car horns bleated in the distance down Broadway Subway trains rocketed through the station below and shook the sidewalk under our feet. Bernardo knelt to collect the bundles Scott yelled something and then gestured for me to follow him. Jesus. I thought. We chased the thief. There were two of them now: gunman and accomplice Another had come out of the Christmas trees to slow us down. But he had no gun. His empty hands waved to us not to follow. It made all the difference. I heard Scott continue to yell something But I could only make out bits of it. ...at least see what direction he’s... I reluctantly followed. The image of the gun was still fresh in my mind. I was much faster than Scott But I ran behind him anyway. A red Lincoln screeched to a halt at the end of the block Then raced away. Scott was out of breath He turned and we began running back to the store This time I was ahead of him. As we ran Scott repeated a set of numbers and letters I scribbled them as best as I could on my hand with a grease-pen from the front pocket of my deli-coat Twenty minutes later we observed the red Lincoln from the back of a police car In a crowded intersection of flashing red lights from police cruisers and unmarked cars pulled up on the curbs and sidewalks in disarray. We identified the gunman. Yes. That’s him. That’s the motherfucker. Then on to the precinct in Washington Heights. Reports were typed and filed by the cop with the slight drawl and snakeskin cowboy boots You’re lucky, he said. ...if you had been armed, or in this neighborhood, they would have just shot you and taken the money. The cowboy could see our satisfaction Glaring at the gunman in the cell Head down Ashamed and foiled. I often wonder if he wished he had pulled the trigger or was happy he had not. It feels good when you get them doesn’t it? The cowboy said. You know what? It feels even better when you get them after they’ve fired a few rounds at you. Back downtown, the store was busy with the Christmas rush. There was much to be done But I needed a moment. I sat in the basement on a cardboard box of canned lima beans. I flipped through the pages of my book trying to make sense of it, to escape into the pages of Faulkner, but I could not stop the cinema of scenes. No matter. It was going to be the best Christmas ever. Tuesday, January 23rd, 2007
i remember the first time i went to cbgb’s. suicidal tendencies headlined. i can’t remember the other bands. but walking in it was really packed. it was dark and smoky and scary and as i looked to my left and saw joey ramone and jim jarmusch sitting at a table. up to the front there were no tables, just that dance floor and lots of mohawks and i think a slam dance pit had already formed. i was scared but i kept walking as the music was hitting my straight on. i got to the where the slam circle was and I saw the people at the front not slamming were picking the slammers up as the fell down. I looked around at all the “scary” punks and realized they weren’t so scary after all. they were all like me and were just there to hear the music and commune with their fellow punks. i suddenly felt part of something. Friday, January 12th, 2007
ATLANTA (AP) — A body was found in an airplane wheel well after a Delta Air Lines flight from Africa landed in Atlanta on Friday morning, airline spokeswoman Betsy Talton said. The flight had left Dakar, Senegal, more than nine hours earlier. It landed at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport. No additional details were available pending an investigation by federal and local law enforcement. Friday, December 29th, 2006 This one is fitting.. Back to Ian MacKaye for some more words of wisdom from Revolution Summer era (1985) Washington, DC…
 End of a Year by Embrace I don’t like parties They avoid the truth People lying In search of a good time We smile avoid Unpleasant situations Put it off, maybe It will go awayCome together, divide by ages We’re always talking thought But nothing changes It’s the end of a year… There’s another one coming There will be no victory No progress made If we do not stand apart From the enemy Oh weak foundations That we’ve laid Melt with the years You are nothing We don’t move forward But away We distance ourselves from Our history We justify it with cheap cliches We’re just scared of dying Words are not enough Thursday, December 21st, 2006
its been quiet on the active listening front lately… here are the lyrics to the best christmas song in recent years, the song ‘if you were born today’ by the minnesota band low. merry christmas! if you were born todayif you were born today we’d kill ya by age eight never get the chance to say: joy to the world and peace on the earth forgive them for they know not what they do blessed are the meek and blessed are the humble blessed are the ninety and nine deny the flesh deny all that’s evil tonight you’ll deny me thrice if you were born today we’d kill ya by age eight never get the chance to say… ooooo…. |
AuthorTime, I absolve myself of your vow to vanquish me. Archives
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