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| The great grand north is a curious place, a land of fire and green
Though you may not see the blaze's tongues, You can be sure to see the sheen
When tumid saplings and timid fawns
graze together in the dawn
the dewdrops hide and the flowers ope wide
To greet me with a yawn.
All credible notions are out on the wire, strung up in view of the stars
Imbibable potions and juicy emotions cannot begin to describe
the sentiments' filaments, greedy and still remiss, the terrible red tinted vibe
That courses in every vein, shouts at me through the rain, urges me just to survive.
So, say the prophets, the arc-headed lockpicks, and all the milling crowd
When you come a-calling we'll all just be falling, forever down into the ground
but I don't believe them, those nattering she-hens, because they are blinded by fear
The fear of a new day that says come here what may, and freezes their every last tear.
When gazing at starlight, or taking in sunrise
remember the dewdrop, the moisture that unties
and tell me where you've seen
the grandest of all things
a convocation of small wings
that cry out their perennial keen.
There is a light in the wings, it is still a system of strings
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| Well I have had a bad day.
If my life were like a pocketwatch, today, every gear, every spring, every perfectly tuned mechanism had its teeth lengthened by a quarter of a millimeter. Everything works, the clock ticks, but time isn't kept, all the springs get wound too tight, all the gears eventually start to jam, and there's a great cacophony.
I looked out at the world today, from a tree branch, and then from the grass, and I saw swaying branches and dancing leaves, and I saw the sky, dim, grey, subdued, neath a layer of gauzy cloud. Then I played jazz, and I missed an opportunity to sit and talk to a pretty girl, and I was haunted by fatigue and the dolorous everything. School is this great leviathan, all devouring, all destroying, all suffocating in its tentacular magnificence. We can do NOTHING to conquer this abominable foe, this scary demon, this fiery shadow of malice, apathy, regret, scorn, delight, confusion, misanthropy, misdirection, misapprehension, malfeasance, mannerism, and monotony.
My pots are ready for pick up at the Northern Clay Center. Oh to be a gentleman and a potter!
THERE'S A LIGHT IN THE WINGS HITS THIS SYSTEM OF STRINGS
He said one and one and one is THREE
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| I am a salmon in a stream, facing a dam without a staircase.
To speak in metaphor: Silent scares, the effect of lightning, and the knowledge of continuity, these are the plagues of man, the haunting fowls, the aggravated embraces. When the candles dim, and the table is swept, there is only a murmur of the night before, of the brilliant green flash. Like wax, like flies, like porridge, like snakes, she is a thing.
I will make an announcement one day, and the holes of the world will be torn wider, and the skies will cry in wonder, and the sun will never set for joy, and the fabric of my clothes will turn to leaves, and I will lie in the grass, and the world will turn softly, and the universe will hum, and the silence will descend, and the lives of men will be altered imperceptibly forever, and the moon will eat the stars, and all will swell.
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| Isn't the world just beautiful?
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| wayyy back in March of 2006, when I first got my wonderful new iPod nano, I heard or read a rumor that iPods break after the one-year warranty is up, almost on queue. I now know that rumor to be true.
R.I.P. Eddie Junior, I might just have to replace you.
At least I've got about seven new albums and a few seasons of scrubs to keep me company...
Edit:
An open letter to Arcade Fire:
Rawk on wit yo bad selves!
-Mark
Edit 2:
iPod works! It was the high-speed USB Stuff!
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