Like antennas to Heaven

In order to really really express ourselves we need the ability to invent adjectives. They just aren't vast enough or aren't applicable or accurate enough to properly prefix any given emotion. Like that sinking feeling you get in your stomach when the butterflies that used to flutter there wither and die. Like the lead feeling of sleeping feet when something comes full circle. Or even the cavernous hollow of chest-- like the heart's given up, closed its belfry wings, resigned to sicken and so live.

But that's why we have images. And that's why we have nouns. There are nouns no adjective can touch. Guilt. Regret. What is "guilt" when it's something deeper than "guilty?" And what am I if I'm relieved and at the same time so full of regret? Am I a baby born healthy to a single mother, a motorcycle and a magician for a father? I'm not. Or am I selfish because I got to say what I had to say to make the guilt subside[?]-- but I fucked up and you've moved on and we're learning that the recovery process isn't universal. Because what's out there is out there and is it wrong to hope that words alone can find host in opinion and create possibility? For second, third chances?

I'd hope that one day with all this rhetoric I'll finally say something that makes sense. But I hope too much more that with all this weight and hurt I'll finally forget figures and say something real. Or something beautiful.

You don't make friends by saying what is true. You don't get invited to parties or out with the cool kids by saying what is true. You don't get laid by saying what is true. You don't get by on facts. We don't get by on the true. We live on food and water and aethetics and when we can't find enough to eat or drink or love we create it-- and I think that maybe that's why the world is getting smaller. Because we all need to be in Paris to blow our loads. So to speak. And we want so badly to be have everyone else think we're beautiful.

[line deleted] because you don't find love by saying what is true.

Nothing hurts worse than regret, I'm convinced. And I've seen the mantras: "live life with no regrets." But you might as well be living without feeling in the tips of your fingers. So that even when you're subject to bites and cuts and burns and slammed doors-- you're groovy. Wouldn't it be nice to be numb? No. It would be so dreadful and lonely and false to never hurt and never regret.

Aside: Self-conscious ---> self-aware? Goal, maybe. /Aside

So again, sorry.

I'm still figuring this whole thing out. Really.


Bomb the Blogosphere,
Mike

With poise, with grace

"Chase This Light," the new Jimmy Eat World album, is hella good. Even though it sounds a little like a musical at times.

My mom is reading some "How to get published" book. I guess so she can give me advice or empathy or something when I hit the point of needing such a book. Anyway, I skimmed through it a little bit and the common advice seems to be what I already knew: write everyday. More of writing pages of shit for a line you love. So here I am.

Mark and I had our first radio show last Monday. It went pretty well for everyone... except whoever tried to call in. We could not figure that stupid phone out. We played some quality jams though, rocked out a little bit. It was fun and I'm looking forward to this upcoming Monday.

Spring break I'm roadtripping to Canada with Keith and Mark.

...

That right there was a pause for applause.

The Moon Red-Handed is coming along, coming together. I've never really been held to a practive regiment before when it comes to music, but everyone who wants to progress should be. Most of the recording equipment I ordered came in too. So big things are ahead, methinks.

Man, I wanted real bad to go to Six Flags tomorrow to see everyone. The weather is effin' shit though. Rain rain, GTFO.

Aside: I just got a text message that says, "Hey can you do me a favor and shut your mouth or I will do it for you okay? Have a great day" And all I can think about is what a terrible sentence it is. /Aside

But yeah. I only even really want to see 4 or 5 people. And I'll be alone in my visit because that's how it goes.

Aside: Nowhere people really are terribly dramatic. /Aside

And then there's the party. Do I even want to go?


Bomb the Blogosphere,
Mike

A soundtrack

Why the hell do these things work out so perfectly?

1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't try to pretend you're cool...

SOUNDTRACK TO THE LIFE OF: Me

Opening Credits:
"Wolf's Mouth" Kevin Devine

Waking Up:
"Kracked" Dinosaur Jr.

First Day of School:
"A View from the Afternoon" Arctic Monkeys

First Kiss:
"Roads" Portishead

Falling in Love:
"What's in Store?" Architecture in Helsinki

Fight Song:
"Killing a Camera" Braid

Breaking Up:
"I Don't Know How to Say This" The Early November

High School:
"The Ugly Organist" Cursive

Prom:
"Silver" Mineral

College:
"Katrien" Mogwai

Study Abroad:
"After O'Rourke's 2:10am" The Good Life

That One Drunk night:
"Bacardi" Nada Surf
(WTF.)

Life:
"In a Radio Song" Okkervil River

Mental Breakdown:
"Pull My Hair" Bright Eyes

Walking Down the Street:
"Blueside" Rooney

How your Husband/ Wife Feels about you:
"Cute Without the 'E'" The Vitamin String Quartet

Driving:
"Enthused" blink-182

Flashback:
"A Shot in the Arm" Wilco

Getting Back Together:
"Butterfly" Weezer

First Job:
"Harvest Moon" Neil Young

Wedding:
"Love and Some Verses" Iron & Wine

Birth of Child:
"Alone Down There" Modest Mouse
(Oh my.)

Vacation:
"All There Is" Rites of Spring

Retirement:
"Neon Bible" The Arcade Fire

Final Battle:
"Smith" Pompeii

Death Scene:
"Last Call" Elliott Smith

Funeral Song:
"I Hope Tomorrow is Like Today" Guster

Closing Credits:
"Voids" Paulson


Funny funny funny.


Bomb it,
Mike

The arc and the eclipse

Things come together and things drift apart.

And so seems the general operation of it all.

Really, a post a month wasn't what I was gunning for. But the whole apology thing is growing tired I'm sure. Perhaps I should be more concise and less ambling. More visual and less introspective. I can't scribe my chronology, but I can paint snapshots-- that kind of thing.

So I've finally got something cooperative and musical going on! The sixth, or thereabouts, saw the birth of The Moon Red-Handed-- and acoustic project of Sir Rick Marciano and myself. Judging by our first little jam session the other day, there is certainly something to look forward to. The only downside is that writing songs severely inhibits by ability to write poetry. Yeah, believe it or not the process is entirely different. But it is what it is and I'm glad to make the trade.

I used exclamation points in the previous paragraph.

There's electricity in the air.

I've been pretty down the last couple days(weeks?). The single life is one I'm accustomed to. But it's also one I feel like I need to outgrow eventually. Like wearing hand-me-downs. And it isn't looking so good on me-- especially not lately. Loneliness is a callous lover, let me tell you. Not that, I'm sure, you need telling. We all know the chill.

And I guess I'm just jealous of all the happy couples. I am. And it isn't worth it to pretend I'm not.

It's just that people are so fickle
they fall in love at different angles.

I haven't shared any poetry in a while. Here you go:

[removed]


Bomb the blogosphere,
Mike