and i will keep on till you agree to come back over
or until
there are x's on my eyes

but the main difference between me and you is that i'm not on fire

"If it weren't for electricity we'd all be watching television by candlelight." - George Gobel


that killed me.

I'll never go to North Dakota



create your own personalized map of the USA
or write about it on the open travel guide

the life and times of an overheated car

the first was a cop who walked from the truck weighing station. I was drifting off to those smooth npr voices. The knock on the window shakes me awake. he's kind of young and he doesn't know what to do. I explain the situation to him, I can tell he doesn't quite understand but after I'm done he says "well if thats it than alright." and he walked back to the weigh station. So i try to go back to sleep and I watch the temp gauge slowly work its way down. After about 20 mins. I'm off again I only last a mile till i'm in the red again. This ones a bit difficult. its on a bridge and it has a slight curve with it. I try to relax like before but a story i heard about some trucker that fell asleep and plowed into a family that had stopped on the shoulder comes back to me and I can only watch the rearview window. I don't wait as long this time and I don't go as far when it gets too hot again. This time I'm right in front of the mitsubishi exit. After a while a guy in a pick up truck stops and gets out. I feel bad cause it took him a while to stop and now he has to walk all this way in the cold. I meet him halfway. He's older than I though he was and he wants to look at the engine. I kind of tell him not to worry about it cause he's not gonna tell me something i don't know anyways. after a while he tells me things i already know and walks back to his car. The nice thing about this one is that the time went by quick and suddenly i'm off the exit and trying to make it over a hill without overheating. I put it in neutral and turn the car off completely. It feels like i'm sledding down a hill as I gain momentum. I love how quiet it is. I can hear rocks pop under the weight of my tires. The road is completely abandonded. after a while of drifting i eventually come to a stop. I had to fight the wheel to get over though. no power steering is great. noone comes to help this stop, but thats ok cause this american life just started and some girls talking about how her mom wouldn't let her go to Disneyland. Just the hotel next door. its really funny. The next stop a cop car pulls right behind me and puts on his lights. he makes people think He pulled me over. He runs my plates for a few minutes and then comes over to ask me what i'm doing with my car along side the road on Sunday morning. His arrogance kills me. I explain it to him but he's not interested. He asks for my license and proof of insurance and runs that too. finally after hes convinced i'm not a murderer he walks back and gives me my I.D. back. "By the way," he says, "You need to get the address changed on your license. Otherwise I could write you a $75 ticket. No big deal this time " He leaves and I watch his car turn into a white dot on the horizon. to protect and serve my butt. My next stop is tough because I no longer have a shoulder on College. I look for a side street and stop it in there. A white sedan follows me in. An elderly coulple on their way to Church. (I gave up on Church an hour ago) They want to give me a ride somewhere but i decline, only a couple more miles. Two more stops left but these are not as easy, the funny disneyland story is over and some guy talking about fasting is on. its painful to hear and hard to sympathize with self enforced torture. anyways my last stop is almost here I roll into the jr. high and look across the street. There is my apartment, only a few hundred feet away. My epic journey is almost over. the usual 38 min journey is almost at the 3 hour mark. the fasting guy is way too much of a whiner so i change stations for a while and settle with an Irish sounding preacher. hes good. finally my car is just cool enough to make the mad dash for home and my car and i roll into our spot and crash with exhaustion. we both win.

recommended mp3 - phantom planet - california

Dear God,

It's weird to think of all the things that have not been keeping up with the times.

Some folks think we're better now. Social evolutions will keep us on a straighter path, as better men use brand new math with no wrong answers.

To tell you the truth I'm just a little bit worried. Do you have some sort of plan? Have you been finally defeated by the cunning of these fully evolved men?

I hear that you don't change. How do you expect to keep up with the trends? You won't survive the information age unless you plan to change the truth to accommodate the brilliance of men...

Sincerely,
a concerned follower.

pedro the lion

one day i am gonna grow wings
chemical reaction
hysterical and useless

i think my favorite word in the english language is sycamore. its great.

One the way up the elevator to easter’s room, my eyes catch a brown stain on the floor. Its actually almost orange. Its like a huge tear drop stain, I try to imagine what caused the stain for a second and then tried to put out of my mind, bad idea. With the sights and smell of this place, its easy to gag. Clean thoughts. Clean thoughts. Look at the ascending numbers. I hate this place so much. I hate this stupid small smelly elevator, I hate the front desk lady with teeth too small and she never knows who I’m talking about. “Hmm. Are you sure that’s the correct name? Easter Soliday……Hmmm…...(long waiting – I wonder if she is even still looking….) Oh here you go; 8th floor, turn right, room 842. Have a nice day.” My eyes wander back to the stain. Has anyone even tried to clean it up? I bet its been there at least a week. It sicks me out, but I cant help but to stare at it. I was so mad when our mom put him in here. I felt like she was just giving him away to a crappy life. Funny thing is, after she put him here, she became a lot less satisfied with her own life. Nothing could make her happy after that. She had tons of time and spent all of it watching the home shopping network and complaining about the garbage men waking her up every Tuesday morning. Hauling away the crap she bought from the home shopping network - every Tuesday morning at seven. The elevator finally comes to a stop and the first thing I see as the door opens is an old man. He’s sitting right in front of the elevator his head cocked to one side; his lips have a blue tint to them. He eyes stare at me unblinking. I move out of his way but the eyes don’t follow. I wonder if he’s dead. Maybe someone was moving him and then forgot about him. Days ago. He has yellow bits of food or something on his chin. We stare at each other for a moment, and I move on. I hate this place.

recommended mp3 - flaming lips - fight test

the only girl i've ever loved
was born with roses in her eyes
and then they buried her alive
one evening 1945
with just her sister by her side
and only weeks before the guns
all came and rained on everyone


recommended mp3 - neutral milk hotel - holland 1945

when all the world becomes ones and zeros and there is nothing analog left, will kids still find the joy of unraveling a cassette tape or vcr tape? i know youve done this. everyone has. the brown thin tape gets lost in the wind, you throw it, unwrap it... for hours and it keeps on going. there must have been miles of tape in there. you kids of the future there are so many things you won't get to experience. i feel sorry for you.

recommended mp3 - low - closer

sometimes it moves so fast i can't feel whats even happening. the G-forces make you sick when combined with the dizzying height. and then its all over. we were the pain, we were the speed, we were the rocket.

each one in awe for they'd never seen a girl so sad and beautiful

recommended mp3 - yo la tengo - speedy motorcycle

even the moon has a darkside

here's the man with teeth like God's shoeshine. his skin is without blemish and the desired golden color. his hair could not be more perfect and his smile is yet to lose. his clothes are the latest fashion and his car is the most trendy. here's the man with teeth like God's shoeshine. he shimmers, sparkles, shines.

recommended mp3 - the long winters - stupid

yesterday i caught a bat.
i could feel it flying around the night before and i think i dreamed about it biting my head or something. its hard to sleep very soundly with a bat flapping above your bed but i was too tired to do anything about it. (read- too lazy). anyways the next morning it had hung itself above the stairs on the third floor. have you ever seen a bat up close? their dark and freaky. i grabbed two t-shirts and tried to catch it while it slept, but it was just a bit too high and when it felt me closing in it took off. it kinda freaked out for a while flying in circles, while i was trying to figure out how to catch a flying bat. (i did remember some chris farley movie, but didn't think it would work.) so i took my t-shirts and twisted them until they were pretty heavy and started swinging everytime it came close. after about 5-6 misses i hit that thing pretty hard and it crashed to the floor with a loud thunk. i wondered if it was still alive as i wrapped it in my t-shirts and took it downstairs. outside i unwrapped my present and the bat was still alive biting my t-shirts to death. i flopped him on the ground and he laid on his belly, wings spread to full length, teeth barred and just laid there. i watched it for a while and wondered how much damage i did to it. was it retarted now? did it forget how to fly? would it have to eat worms and crawl around or something? i left him for a while to pack the rest of my stuff up, when i came back it was gone. so i guess the end of the story is sorta unresolved. i hope he's out there flying around somewhere, eating mosiquitos, flying in girls' hair, having a great time, but maybe my dog ate him.

recommended mp3 - denison witmer - simple man (some 70's cover)

after a few nights of sleeping on the floor, you start to appreciate beds. what a great invention. whoever thought of making some soft structure to permanently sleep on, i applaud you, thats a great invention. like better than the wheel or the hypercolor t-shirt.

this world was made for people who aren't cursed with self-awareness.

recommended mp3 - hayden - neil young song

if a scary huge giant bunny told me what to do, i wouldn't do it.

recommended mp3 - the white stripes - seven nation army

everyones replaceable. especially me.

things i'm starting to think are overrated:
sgt. peppers lonely hearts club band
the lord of the rings
mountain dew
not so cheap airlines
graduate school
Dell Computers
Taco Bell
keeping up on Blogs

recommended mp3 - songwriters llc - beach house

http://www.peoriayounggroup.com/pages/photos.html

some pics of my trip to NY,NY

(singing)
back to school. back to school. to prove to daddy, i'm not a fool.

one week of graduate school and i'm still alive. although I have to admit its tougher than i expected. two back to back three hour classes tend to suck the life out of you. Its not really that much different than normal college. people dress a bit nicer and my classmates are more competitive but its pretty much the same. one week in and i'm buried with work. 3 and 1/2 weeks from now i'll be a happy man. hmmm not too much else to say. still adjusting to bloomington. missing peoria.

recommended album - unwed sailor - the marionette and the music box

waiting in the drive thru line at wendy's yesterday a little yellow spider dropped down on my windshield and started running across it. without thinking i turned on my windshield wipers and in a few seconds the spider was a little mushed ball in the middle of the glass. now you wouldn't think this was a big deal, but suddenly i'm haunted by the idea that inside that mushed-up ball of spider parts is a brain that is still alive. its spending its last few seconds wondering what happened to its eight legs and eight eyes. its pain and agony is unspeakable. its hatred towards me knows no bounds and mixed in, is the overwhelming feeling of injustice. what a fair fight. it bothered me so much i used half a gallon of window spray and tried to wipe it off with my wipers. with each swipe the little yellow ball lessoned, but i could not remove all traces of my crime. this morning i noticed a little yellow dot on my windshield. a remant of a frosty run gone wrong. 

to all the bedroom rockers out there. keep playing. keep pretending your on stage and people actually care what it is your doing. keep experimenting. there is never ending possibilities. change music. try the chord that doesn't fit or make up a new chord that does. give me hope for something better than the best i've heard. there is alternate tunings you could try. play with passion. write with wit. and never give up.
to all the bedroom rockers out there we look to you. save us from ourselves.


recommended mp3 - sam cooke - cupid

My old man always swore
that hell would have no flame
just a front row seat
to watch your true love
pack her things and drive away

david bazan

leave me nowhere far out of sight.
the road of life is nothing like a road at all its more like a forest. you think you know where your going but really you have no clue just all these endless choices and directions. once you've got there you really don't know if its home... its just some spot in these never ending woods. should you move on? should you call this place home? if it was a road you could at least tell if your moving in some kind of direction.
and so i just wander around in the woods watching people move in and out of my area, quietly hoping that theres someway i'll know where i'm supposed to be.

recommended mp3 jets to brazil - little light

Easter and me. Me and Easter. Easter and I. yeah that’s correct. We checked into the hotel late in the afternoon. One of those weird places with only one level (on the ground), and it’s always taking verbal abuse from the highway. I talked the guy at the counter down to twenty nine bucks. He seemed to like the haggle; he probably doesn’t get people like us very often. Our room was clean but smelled like stale cigarettes. Fine. Just somewhere to rest. I crashed on the bed and flipped channels for a while. Easter dumped all his stuff on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. After a while I found myself in that pleasant place between sleep and consciousness. I heard Easter leave the room and found myself thinking that I should go get him or at least watch him, but right about then my sleepy state seemed too sweet and I put it off. ‘he’ll be fine.’

After a while I awoke to a screaming tv. And a groggy head. The sun was starting to set and the room was much darker than I thought it should be. No Easter. I walked out of the room with no shoes or shirt hoping he hadn’t gone off too far. I didn’t have to walk much. On the little bit of grass in-between the office and the rest of the hotel, Easter was playing with a little girl in a sun dress. The sun was finding its way home; giving everything a golden tint. It was still hot though. I sat on the curb and lit a cigarette. I could tell Easter was really enjoying this time with his little friend. He acts so different with kids, like this light goes on in his messed up head. I wish he acted like that with me; it sure would make this trip easier. I could buy some toys like the ones he’s playing with now, but that’s just one more thing to pack and keep track of. After a while the girl’s mom came out and smiled at me. I introduced myself and Easter but he didn’t look up. She said her name was Jeanie and Sara was her daughter. She spoke in a southern accent that bordered a little on white trash. It didn’t matter though; it was the sweetest thing I heard since I left New York. She said Easter was just playing in the grass when they checked in and her daughter just walked right up and offered her toys. They had been playing like that for well over an hour. I smiled and was appreciative she didn’t think him a mentally deranged serial killer. She sat down next to me and we watched our little family; her beautiful daughter, my retarded brother, and a pink toy Volkswagen beetle.

recommended mp3 - dashboard confessional - jamie (weezer cover)

these days rush on. weeks turn into months and my life passes before my eyes. literally. i'll be halfway through my twentys soon. i try to slow down the days. i look for four leaf clovers and take naps on the trampoline. i read books under trees on nice days. i talk late into the night with good friends and bad coffee. and time goes faster yet. the harder i try to slow down the faster everything goes. trips slow things down. NYC awaits me patiently. i'm excited. but i can't mistake leaving for living. i've made that mistake before.

recommended mp3 - herman jolly - windless

when the lights go down and the curtain goes up
our hearts raced with anticipations
wow us. make us forget. make us feel.

there once was a family with two brothers.
the older was like his father. he achieved much throughout his life. the younger achieved little. the elder had speech team finals and business degrees. the younger had pills and alcohol. and all the townsfolk said 'why can't the younger be more like the older?' and the townsfolk said 'he's just wonderful.' after a long time both brothers passed away. shortly after many things were revealed about both brothers. somethings were shocking. somethings were devastating. the townsfolk talked for years about the hidden life of the older brother. there was much speculation as to why he did such bad things. noone suspected themselves, but then again noone ever does.

then the curtain closed for the last time, never to open again.
the actors retired to their homes, the audience seeped into the night.

please save your applause for the end of the show.

my resting hope lies with the one who changes night to day
my resting peace the same
my resting hope lies with the one who takes my sins away
my resting joy the same

recommended mp3 - gary jules - mad world

a good person is someone who hasn't been caught.

recommended mp3 - aimee mann and michael penn - reason to believe (springsteen cover)

i read death of a salesman today. its allright. freaked me out a little, thats usually a good thing. not that it was scary but its characters and story haunt you a little. thats great if you can do that to the reader. if i ever saw the play i probably wouldn't like it at all since i have everything set in my head. some questions though.
1. Who names there kids biff and happy? those are the worst names i've ever heard, no wonder they're total failures.
2. I guess that was my only question. Biff and Happy????

today's recommended mp3 - damien jurado - windows

i will wait along time for you. see the boxes in the corner there? there holding ribbons you wore in your hair. will you remember to drop a line? nothing changes all the time. i will wait so long for you. i've got my face against the window pane. crying the tears that get lost in rain.

i think just once, id like someone to save me.

He's by far the best salesman i've ever seen. His techniques are flawless, i've seen him crack the customer so many times its almost funny now. his pressure is subtle but demanding. you can't resist once he's used all his ploys. sometimes we laugh about it on the car ride back. He makes more in commission in a couple of sales than i do in a month. His wife and kids and house are beautiful. i would love to end up like him in a few of years.

on the way home yesterday his eye caught a pretty girl in a black dress. His neck strained to sustain the view. i watched the lines deepen on his face and neck. he looks at me looking at him and turns his attention back to the road. i can feel the tension for a while. He tried to break the ice by mentioning the girl. "Pretty, huh?" i didn't know what to say for a few seconds. If i would have known about the angry kids and strained marriage i would have shut my mouth. but instead i said "yeah, but aren't you married?" I immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say. the rest of the car drive home was silent. the tension was almost unbearable. when we arrived at corporate south he dropped me off at my car. before i got out he looked at some point in the horizon and said "the comfortable life ain't all its cracked up to be."

recommended mp3 - josh rouse - directions

i'm tired of snow and cold and my bones desire the warmer changes. the weather hints at the warmth to come. the old lady across the street lives everyday in her night gown. no need to change. i wonder if the winter is longer for her. i saw a squirrel this morning, i thought they hibernated but i guess this one got tired of it. it must be boring. i thought for a while what squirrels think about when they are all alone in their trees for months at a time so cold. i can't imagine a winter with no central heating or electric blankets. i look for robins and the color green. its been a long winter.

recommended mp3 - clem snide - messiah complex blues

once when i was ten my mom set up some deal where if me or my brother got ten "A" papers we could buy a five dollar toy at toy'r'us. i can't remember if i tried harder because of this or just kept on trying like i always tried. but eventually i got ten "A" papers and we went to toys'r'us. i bought a transformer that was a robot/car. it cost nine dollars. it was pretty awesome. you didn't have to do too much transforming or whatever, when the robot bent over it would just click in and become a car. you could wind it up and it would go. i loved the new toy smell. i played with it all day. about a week later i found it on the back of the toy shelf and i couldn't figure out why it i didn't like it as much. like something changed. all the fun was used up. the newness ended. i put it in the toy box where all the junky toys go and went to the neighbors to play with his wwf wrestling figures. he had the full ring. my friends' toys always stayed new.

recommended mp3 - zwan - settledown

nick drake sings softly over the whine of the engine. i've never seen a pink moon. i open the window and crank the volume. soft warm air blows in and around my car. the night is trying to tell me something but i can't be bothered to figure it out. i turn the music louder. the feeling and music permeate me further. all the lights are green and cars move out of my way. i watch the street lights reflect off the car. they move systematically down the hood and over my head. little blue houses whistle past. this is the night. the moon shines brighter further from the city. it grows stronger. sometimes i can feel its pull. the ocean never gets tired of its fruitless pursuit - and i can understand why. its a poem so epic and true...this place it is cursed with a beauty so great. i'm sure that its hard being you.

recommended mp3 - coolidge - trapped

not all who wander are lost. - j.r.r tolkien

recommended mp3 - california stars - jeff tweedy

I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.

recommended mp3 - aimee mann - wise up

at least my watch is right two times a day

recommended mp3 - long winters - carparts

and we waited.
its amazing that sometimes you can get a ride in less than a minute and other times it can take almost all day. today was just not good. the sky clouded over and threatened rain constantly. the cars were seldom and snobbish. i looked at easter. his hair was blowing in the wind and he looked off into the woods by the road. maybe it was a bad idea to try to do this. its always harder with two people. i don't know how well he would do if we waited all night. i feel barely in control.
so far so good though, weve made it to pennslyvania. i worry constantly. we might not make it. more cars pass us by not even slowing down as they pass. easter gets tired of standing and sits where the shoulder meets the grass. he starts picking pebbles up and putting them into his pocket. i wonder what he's thinking. or how he thinks. what on earth would you want rocks in your pockets for? i wondered what we looked like at 60 miles an hour. would i pick us up? probably not. i wondered if i was starting to smell now on the third day. two hours pass and its almost noon, easter is close to the woods now and catching grasshoppers. he tears their wings off. my arm and thumb are getting tired. what's wrong with this state? the clouds were looking even worse as noon passed us by. everynow and then i was almost sure i felt a drop. i just wasn't ready for this. not rain, not waiting, not worry. now what? easter asks if i have any watermelon. 'no.' i can't figure out why he would ask for such a random thing, but once i think about it i really would love a big piece of watermelon right now. cold just from the fridge... and that first bite is always the best. no seeds and so juicy right at the point. as you keep eating the flavor dies away with the color when you get close to the rhine. another couple of hours pass and we eat our little debbie snake cakes. the staple thus far on our journey. fudge rounds, zebra cakes, granola bars (extra nutrients) all for a quarter. cars just keep on passing never stopping. we find a soda can in the ditch and throw rocks at it. easter falls asleep when we get bored of this game... i'm always amazed at his sleeping position. sometimes i'm jealous that he can just fall asleep, it usually takes me hours. he sleeps face down on the grass for a couple of hours. when he wakes up he puts his pack on like we are going somewhere and looks down the road. i take a long look at him and then look where he's looking. down the road a white station wagon is speeding toward us. i put my thumb out. sure enough the guy slows down. he passes us because of his speed but stops just up the road. i jog down to him and after a bit of talk we are packing our bags in the back seat. as soon as we drive off the shoulder and accelerate down the road rain pours down on the car. the driver looks at me pushes his glasses back and says "perfect timing" i smile and look back at easter. he's already asleep leaning against his pack mouth open.

today's recommended mp3 - pedro the lion - i'm always the one who calls

Oh, I'm sailin' away my own true love,
I'm sailin' away in the morning.
Is there something I can send you from across the sea,
From the place that I'll be landing?

No, there's nothin' you can send me, my own true love,
There's nothin' I wish to be ownin'.
Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled,
From across that lonesome ocean.

Oh, but I just thought you might want something fine
Made of silver or of golden,
Either from the mountains of Madrid
Or from the coast of Barcelona.

Oh, but if I had the stars from the darkest night
And the diamonds from the deepest ocean,
I'd forsake them all for your sweet kiss,
For that's all I'm wishin' to be ownin'.

That I might be gone a long time
And it's only that I'm askin',
Is there something I can send you to remember me by,
To make your time more easy passin'.

Oh, how can, how can you ask me again,
It only brings me sorrow.
The same thing I want from you today,
I would want again tomorrow.

I got a letter on a lonesome day,
It was from her ship a-sailin',
Saying I don't know when I'll be comin' back again,
It depends on how I'm a-feelin'.

Well, if you, my love, must think that-a-way,
I'm sure your mind is roamin'.
I'm sure your heart is not with me,
But with the country to where you're goin'.

So take heed, take heed of the western wind,
Take heed of the stormy weather.
And yes, there's something you can send back to me,
Spanish boots of Spanish leather.
-bob dylan

today's recommended mp3 - damien jurado - medication

building bridges between the cities of truths
sad simple chords
slightly out of tune b string echo's down dusty wooden stairs that creak painfully at night
my memories record
and ideas come and go like stories never told and minor chords can take you to the chorus
sad is my happy
and hope is my joy untold but it never feels right. it never felt right.



have you seen my drunken angel.

today's recommended mp3 - clem snide - my moment in the sun

if you move. never go back to the house of you childhood. you'll be sorry you came.

there once was a train engineer who took a load of coal to the same city everyday. and everyday at the same time he would pass a quaint little house up on a hill. in the summer it had blue-green grass on all sides and a young oak in the front corner of the long yard.

there were no fences.

the soft grass would just wander down the hill into the trees or stop harshly at the brown gravel road. the house itself was too inviting. white wood exterior with a gray shingled roof. a small porch too. the porch always had three or four chairs set up were people could spend the summer evenings watching america until the cool air from the west blew gently in. and almost without fail there would be a woman and a small girl outside. always in some activity. putting up clothes to dry in the wind, playing some game, making snowmen, sitting on the little porch woman reading child drawing. and everyday they would wave at him, the train engineer. and everyday he would wave back to his beautiful little family.
and everyday he would pass this perfect house in the perfect yard. and everyday he would look forward to passing the perfect house in the perfect yard. and everyday he would be a bit happier after passing the perfect house in the perfect yard. it was painfully beautiful.
then one day his employer told him he would change routes and he instantly thought of his beautiful little family on the beautiful little hill. i'm going to visit them he said to himself. he would explain who he was and tell them why he's here. tell them how much their waves meant to a lonely old engineer on a lonely old train drive. he practiced his conversations with the family all week.

then on a cold Saturday he drove to the house. it took him much longer than he expected, all the country roads were frustratingly misleading and he only knew the route by the train tracks. eventually he found the house, but when walking up to the porch he thought maybe it was wrong. the grass was patchy and it was more pale than it should be. the porch itself was too small and the chairs looked cold and uncomfortable. he knocked on the door. he heard movement inside and eventually a girl came to the door. but this wasn't 'his' girl was it? she seemed bored. he didn't know what to do for a few seconds then asked if her mother was home. the girl went to get her mother. while he waited his eyes wandered onto the screen door. its screen was curling up at the bottom left edge, it had been ripped slightly years before and now it was starting to rust. the door itself needed paint. when the mother finally came to the door he realized he was sorry he came. she was older than he imagined and poorer. she looked at him untrustingly as he explained himself. when he was done there was no look of enlightened joy like he wanted. she seemed a bit confused and invited him in, the girl laid on the couch watching a brown television turned up too loudly. she never took her eyes off it as he came in. the house was not clean and too warm. he struggled through a conversation with the mother all the while wanting to leave. he wanted to drive away quickly and forget everything. and only remember the perfect family from the railroad tracks that waves at him every afternoon.


todays recommended mp3 - the pernice brothers - 7:30a.m.

Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.
-gibran

this passage from 'the prophet' says what i always suspected but never seen this clear or so poetically put. the deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can obtain.

today's recommended mp3 - denison witmer - rise and fall

"it was the summer of 1950. but before i left denbigh road i saw the end of an era, the death of a culture: television arrived. before, when the men came back from work, the tea was already on the table, a fire was roaring, the radio emitted words or music softly in the corner, they washed and sat down at their places, with the woman, the child, and whoever else in the house could be inveigled downstairs. food began emerging from the oven, dish after dish, tea was brewed, beer appeared, off went the jerseys or jackets, the men sat in their shirtsleeves, glistening with well-being. they all talked, they sang, they told what had happened in their day, they talked dirty--a ritual; they quarrelled, they shouted, they kissed and made up and went to bed at twelve or one, after six or so hours of energetic conviviality. i suppose that this level of emotional intensity was not usual in the households of britain; i was witnessing an extreme. and then, from one day to the next--but literally from one evening to the next-- came the end of good times, for television had arrived and sat like a toad in the corner of the kitchen. soon the big kitchen table had been pushed along the wall, chairs were installed in a semi-circle and, on the chair arms, the swivelling supper trays. it was an end of an exuberant verbal culture..." --doris lessing, "walking in the shade, 1949-1962"

today's recommended mp3 - jurassic five - what's golden

if theres a right thing to say, i probably missed it by a mile