don't stop. ever.
there's too much ground to cover
and too much to see
no time to take it in, except as it passes you by
in the distance, there's a clearing; you'll know when you've arrived.

*

some Kafka fragments:

a "running start for suicide"
"you have to earn your grave"
"Anyone who cannot cope with life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little his despair over his fate... but with his other hand he can jot down what he sees among the ruins, for he sees different and more things than the others; after all, he is dead in his own lifetime and the real survivor."
Despair has become "an enemy of life AND writing; writing was here only a moratorium, as it is for someone who writes his last will and testament just before he hangs himself."
"from a certain point onward, there is no turning back.
that is the point that must be reached"

*
http://www.whokilledwalterbenjamin.com

for her

Monday, May 19, 2008 3:15pm

Each step a life of language lived - words to fill pages, forcing myself to stop and take note, for I will forget.

A good day.

This is my life - a moment to kill - so I end up at Coney Island, accompanied by a wind that is either trying to fill my being with dust and sand, or an attempt to expurgate a freight train of aches and disappointment. I walk with my eyes and mouth closed, unfortunately my mind is open, like floodgates and the crashing waves - I allow peeks so that I may trace my steps - and her.

A few days ago, I had asked myself, for what is it I am after? That moment when one says 'I love you' for the first time and genuinely means it - that tension taut followed by it's release and requited response, a genuine sigh, relief - the truest sense of home. or when a song comes on and it encompasses exactly your emotional state in regards to a specific situation. - If anyone, it should be her to receive my mistakes. And I let another escape, aloud, unanswered.

I pass a man with white beard and hair that perfectly and quite impressively, match his all same shade of white attire. Through the fog of squinted eyes and dust blown fury, he's a spitting image of a cliched god. He's smiling, taking note of my taking notice. The sun further bleaches him out, nearly erasing him. I return my glance from the sea, he's gone. A welcomed distraction disappeared.

The sky is filled with huge luminous clouds - threatening, possibly promising a storm - yet the sun is blinding. A sight to take in. Salt for the wounds, sand for the eyes, ash on the tongue, dust on the day... Impatiently, the wind is trying to knock it all down. Erosion will not work fast enough.

I walk to the end of the pier. No diving or jumping. I will never be good at taking orders or following directions. I have made peace so many times here, this very spot - left with so many pieces amongst the bloodstained boardwalk, bullet holes, and broken beer bottles.

I have been accused of many things, and I'm quite certain this part isn't over - I have been guilty of most of them, but I am ALIVE and I am learning - living, letting go.

Kids trying to create chaos, helping the wind commit it's ruin - I see myself in them...
It's my last day of school, and I want to join them, set fire to the discarded.

I wonder if this is (living) dying.

revisiting (a memory of) an old friend

"Who would not hate you, you great binder, entwiner, temptress, seeker, and finder? Who would not love you, you innocent, impatient, wind-swift, child-eyed sinner?"
Friedrich Nietzsche - "The Other Dancing Song - Thus Spoke Zarathustra."

Music

After years of not being stoked on new music, I'm relieved to be into something that is new. I'm prematurely stating that music is finally getting good again.

Algernon Cadwallader, it's hard not to mention the obvious Kinsella family influence (Cap N Jazz, Joan of Arc, Owen, Owls, American Football, etc), but these dudes fucking rule at it and OWN it, and in my opinion do it WAY better and without the bullshit pretentiousness.

Morrow, so what if my best friend is the driving force behind this band? It's fucking good. I'm hearing Neil Young, Black Heart Procession, Pleasure Forever, Bruce Springsteen, and unmistakable midwest honesty. I'm excited for their full length to be finished.

Who Calls So Loud, everyone knows I love Matt Bajda and will always support anything any member of Portraits of Past will do (at least in theory). Very tight for such a young band, epic with interesting dynamics, one could argue they are picking up where Funeral Diner left off. The record layout is great and really beautiful, a double 10" that includes a cd.

and let's not forget about the Portraits of Past reunion shows August 1st and 2nd in San Francisco and August 29th and 30th in NYC. I will be posting more info on these in a few months.

I bought a new Music Man amp - 2x12 65, last night and am anxiously awaiting it's arrival (Tuesday 5/13).
Optics will start practice back up very soon.