I wanted to say something ruder but withheld myself.
I guess I like to swear, but I have a friend or two, mostly one, maybe a half somewhere, who frown on it a bit, and I sort of try and refrain... except for the casual "fuck" here and there. In quotes just to be safe. Use protection with your words people. They are bloody dangerous.
So...
Justin Bieber smells like poo. Like... I hear his voice and somehow I can smell shit. It's like Miles Davis hearing colors, I smell music, and Justin Bieber is a Turd. I don't even know how old he is. I hear his voice is breaking, egads, so is probably 14, maybe 15, maybe younger. I feel he is far too young to be prancing around whining about how he thought his love would last for ever.
This brings up two possibilities.
He is either lying, which makes him a big douche bag. Because fourteen year olds are running around thinking they are in love, and vampires. But they might have already been thinking that. I'm pretty sure there were some twits in my class who thought they were in love. Though I did like Daniel's comment in grade 8: "I'm just in to her body." Kids are sweet.
Which leads to the other option. Maybe Justin Bieber really does feel that way. He's dumb and mislead, but he might actually feel that way. Romeo and Juliet felt that way. It seemed like really really huge passionate love. It probably was. But immature and mislead. Who's to say Romeo and Juliet aren't responsible for Justin Bieber, and who is responsible for that story, or for inspiring Shakespeare to write it.
One thing does separate Mr. Bieber from Shakespeare though. Shakespeare smells considerably less like shit than Mr. Bieber. Justin may believe in his subject matter and really feel all those things he's singing about, but his songs are still terrible. The music is not good, and he may be ridiculous.
I'm glad lots of people are enjoying them and feeling better for hearing him. I don't know if they should really stop. But they probably should are likely dumber for it, though I think I may have boogied to an S Club seven song or two... and I am likely dumber for it... but perhaps happier.
p.s. totally unrelated word of advice. don't be afraid of saying fuck you from time to time.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Sunday, March 7, 2010
A day in the life
Today this is just an online diary.
I had been thinking of writing a blog loosely set around some of the songs by broken social scene, and focus on the ideas they present that appeal to me, or are at least challenging things in some way that I like. This first popped into my head with the song "Lover's Spit." Which I wasn't entirely aware of until my friend Mike started singing it with full rock involvement outside the music school we work at. Go Mike.
The body is... what it is. It's what you've got. And it feels a remarkable amount of things. Ranging from tiny little breezes, and things you ignore most of the time, so the orgasmic. The whole spectrum is to be appreciated. But it's... kind of dirty and strange and gooey, and I find it's just, not properly enjoyed sometimes. Something about a song about people kissing and swapping spit really symbolises something for me.
I think I'll come back to that and give it it's proper due. Really rant on about bodily fluids in a near embarrassing manner.
(Just to note, I'm quite enjoying writing this.)
Well... now I have to double back to my wandering train of thought and not let it go on its tangent right away. My head isn't really liking that idea though. It was enjoying the tangent.
So... let's go with that.
Why is the tangent so fun? Because that's where my head went. That was my head, being purely itself without concern for how what I think or say will affect someone else.
I find that concern very problematic. On the one hand, it seems that if you don't think about the things you are going to say there is a great potential for being mean and horrible to people, and in such a case you are a "douche bag", as the fella says. But! I don't know if this is exactly the case. I find the "douche bag"ness of such action comes from the fact that it conflicts with your normal restrained behaviour. Careful, considerate, generally boring behavior. It may be a harsh criticism but I feel it to be true enough that it warrants some form of simple statement. That behavior is BORING! Though, it is highly valued for being stable and helping the modern world go around in its clock work way.
So... you the conflict arises when you adhere to so called good behavior and then let your wilder personae go. You make yourself out to be a liar. You said you wanted A. and behaved in a manner to get A. but every now and then you did something that was very not A. seemed to totally contradict A. and you do it in a manner that seems completely honest and believable. You reveal parts of yourself, and people go... but wait... that's not really you, and well, disaster ensues. You find yourself trying to resolve the pain of the people who are hurt by your revelation, and might do so by putting on a certain showing of type A. behavior, while not wanting to compromise the validity of your other behavior. So... it see saws. People get emotionally weary and things just get worn down, get ugly, and stop.
The desire to fix the situation makes it worse, in my experience.
Get on with being who you are and things take care of themselves. People who don't like you, will not spend time with you, which is nice. And people who do genuinely like you will stick around because you don't fluctuate erratically, and thus confuse them. You can have massive fluctuations of emotion, have very sad days, very mad, very happy, and bouts of daily contentment, and these might fit in to who you are quite nicely. People just don't like feeling lied too. And feeling confused about what they think about things. It's too tiring and eventually you just stop doing that thing. Or at least, there's a good chance.
Tangents... are me.
I don't like chit chatting politely.
I like talking...
I get bored quickly.
I become depressed when I don't do something about situations that are not as I want them. I don't like to compromise beyond a natural heartfelt desire to make someone else happy.
It's amazing to what extent I am struck by the force of moments where I am unwilling to act. Everything becomes total shit.
It seems like it should be, well... that kinda sucks... oh well...
but no, it's massive and terrible.
Which is horrible, and yet... does inspire me to do the things I really want quite a bit.
I wonder why that happens...
I'll think about it some time.
I had been thinking of writing a blog loosely set around some of the songs by broken social scene, and focus on the ideas they present that appeal to me, or are at least challenging things in some way that I like. This first popped into my head with the song "Lover's Spit." Which I wasn't entirely aware of until my friend Mike started singing it with full rock involvement outside the music school we work at. Go Mike.
The body is... what it is. It's what you've got. And it feels a remarkable amount of things. Ranging from tiny little breezes, and things you ignore most of the time, so the orgasmic. The whole spectrum is to be appreciated. But it's... kind of dirty and strange and gooey, and I find it's just, not properly enjoyed sometimes. Something about a song about people kissing and swapping spit really symbolises something for me.
I think I'll come back to that and give it it's proper due. Really rant on about bodily fluids in a near embarrassing manner.
(Just to note, I'm quite enjoying writing this.)
Well... now I have to double back to my wandering train of thought and not let it go on its tangent right away. My head isn't really liking that idea though. It was enjoying the tangent.
So... let's go with that.
Why is the tangent so fun? Because that's where my head went. That was my head, being purely itself without concern for how what I think or say will affect someone else.
I find that concern very problematic. On the one hand, it seems that if you don't think about the things you are going to say there is a great potential for being mean and horrible to people, and in such a case you are a "douche bag", as the fella says. But! I don't know if this is exactly the case. I find the "douche bag"ness of such action comes from the fact that it conflicts with your normal restrained behaviour. Careful, considerate, generally boring behavior. It may be a harsh criticism but I feel it to be true enough that it warrants some form of simple statement. That behavior is BORING! Though, it is highly valued for being stable and helping the modern world go around in its clock work way.
So... you the conflict arises when you adhere to so called good behavior and then let your wilder personae go. You make yourself out to be a liar. You said you wanted A. and behaved in a manner to get A. but every now and then you did something that was very not A. seemed to totally contradict A. and you do it in a manner that seems completely honest and believable. You reveal parts of yourself, and people go... but wait... that's not really you, and well, disaster ensues. You find yourself trying to resolve the pain of the people who are hurt by your revelation, and might do so by putting on a certain showing of type A. behavior, while not wanting to compromise the validity of your other behavior. So... it see saws. People get emotionally weary and things just get worn down, get ugly, and stop.
The desire to fix the situation makes it worse, in my experience.
Get on with being who you are and things take care of themselves. People who don't like you, will not spend time with you, which is nice. And people who do genuinely like you will stick around because you don't fluctuate erratically, and thus confuse them. You can have massive fluctuations of emotion, have very sad days, very mad, very happy, and bouts of daily contentment, and these might fit in to who you are quite nicely. People just don't like feeling lied too. And feeling confused about what they think about things. It's too tiring and eventually you just stop doing that thing. Or at least, there's a good chance.
Tangents... are me.
I don't like chit chatting politely.
I like talking...
I get bored quickly.
I become depressed when I don't do something about situations that are not as I want them. I don't like to compromise beyond a natural heartfelt desire to make someone else happy.
It's amazing to what extent I am struck by the force of moments where I am unwilling to act. Everything becomes total shit.
It seems like it should be, well... that kinda sucks... oh well...
but no, it's massive and terrible.
Which is horrible, and yet... does inspire me to do the things I really want quite a bit.
I wonder why that happens...
I'll think about it some time.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Life... as written and performed by Matthew James Cook, sometimes esquire.
This… will… ramble…
Each day is a bite, and it's sometimes a bit tart… but I’m pretty good with food.
This is a good start. It’s simple. That’s the point. If you can get it there, then you don’t have to read more, and can stop. Have you learned how to stop yet? I’m getting there on that one.
I get it (the other thing), but I like to keep going anyways… that’s another point.
This might wander…
I, have not written… a long time…
I do not write.
Sometimes I don’t even speak. I feel, there’s not much to say.
There was so much nonsense to stop talking.
I play music, upside down, inside out, round and round, until I pass out.
That's what I do. In closed rooms. Though, I won't stop if you come in.
And will play if you ask me...
This is what I do, instead of speaking.
I sing on the bus.
It is... much later than last I was here, and much has changed.
Usually it is much later, and very little has changed, except for the time.
I haven’t noticed the time for a while now.
Time has sprawled and crawled, and lurched forward through a series of days.
And I along with it sometimes. Have crawled and managed, and things have been strange, and not strange, and generally… they are… just what they are.
And these are old words… past words… they're a bit confused...
While I am not
But, looking back... I see that much has been...
And they can only be described… in... confused ways…
Otherwise… they are not done justice… and still there are things that seem unresolved from all that confusion...
But my feet are steady. So are my eyes. I stare a lot, at all the things that just are. Nothing to say, apart from the odd overwhelming thing. Everything else seems… obvious.Almost… embarrassingly so.
This is new. Usually I’m confused, even when I know things.
Each day I care less and less…
(These are words that linger on the tips of the lips of my brain.
No longer quite my own. Words that I want to use, but don’t quite recognise.)
Maybe…Each day, I… worry less… (a bit closer to the right words)
And care, fiercely, about the things I really care about…
And really just don’t give a fuck, about the things I don’t give a fuck about.
And when you step into that area, I don’t give a fuck about you.
Apart from the rare few… who I might wade in after.
Because after all…
I Do Care
I’m still making my mind up about some of you. Sorry.
I might never do so. I don’t have the time.
Some of you I have forgotten about entirely.
I don’t feel bad. I don’t have the time.
I know what I know. Sometimes it’s a bit stupid and painful… but I know it more than Christmas… just because.
So… what is going on?
It is a quiet night. And in a pause between breaths…
I am writing.
Because, I am a writer, and always knew I was.
I just didn’t want to write.
I don’t really have anything to say. But I just felt like talking.
Each day is a bite, and it's sometimes a bit tart… but I’m pretty good with food.
This is a good start. It’s simple. That’s the point. If you can get it there, then you don’t have to read more, and can stop. Have you learned how to stop yet? I’m getting there on that one.
I get it (the other thing), but I like to keep going anyways… that’s another point.
This might wander…
I, have not written… a long time…
I do not write.
Sometimes I don’t even speak. I feel, there’s not much to say.
There was so much nonsense to stop talking.
I play music, upside down, inside out, round and round, until I pass out.
That's what I do. In closed rooms. Though, I won't stop if you come in.
And will play if you ask me...
This is what I do, instead of speaking.
I sing on the bus.
It is... much later than last I was here, and much has changed.
Usually it is much later, and very little has changed, except for the time.
I haven’t noticed the time for a while now.
Time has sprawled and crawled, and lurched forward through a series of days.
And I along with it sometimes. Have crawled and managed, and things have been strange, and not strange, and generally… they are… just what they are.
And these are old words… past words… they're a bit confused...
While I am not
But, looking back... I see that much has been...
And they can only be described… in... confused ways…
Otherwise… they are not done justice… and still there are things that seem unresolved from all that confusion...
But my feet are steady. So are my eyes. I stare a lot, at all the things that just are. Nothing to say, apart from the odd overwhelming thing. Everything else seems… obvious.Almost… embarrassingly so.
This is new. Usually I’m confused, even when I know things.
Each day I care less and less…
(These are words that linger on the tips of the lips of my brain.
No longer quite my own. Words that I want to use, but don’t quite recognise.)
Maybe…Each day, I… worry less… (a bit closer to the right words)
And care, fiercely, about the things I really care about…
And really just don’t give a fuck, about the things I don’t give a fuck about.
And when you step into that area, I don’t give a fuck about you.
Apart from the rare few… who I might wade in after.
Because after all…
I Do Care
I’m still making my mind up about some of you. Sorry.
I might never do so. I don’t have the time.
Some of you I have forgotten about entirely.
I don’t feel bad. I don’t have the time.
I know what I know. Sometimes it’s a bit stupid and painful… but I know it more than Christmas… just because.
So… what is going on?
It is a quiet night. And in a pause between breaths…
I am writing.
Because, I am a writer, and always knew I was.
I just didn’t want to write.
I don’t really have anything to say. But I just felt like talking.
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