an ode to peter doherty

marry me peter?

as the rain fell and washed away her face

as the rain fell and washed away her face
it left behind the only remaining features of an honesty
prepared to lay down and die
for these words and this love
for the slightest glint of a soul
so incredibly intense
a sour victory over the mind and rationalization
with unknown intentions
and sticky, biodegradeable nerves
with a gelatin-like touch
and plastic features
those big, bright eyes
need someone to marvel at them

Nostalgia

Nostlagia. What the romantic people of the world live in every second of their lives. Forever sparking imagination and art and creating a safe hideaway for those who are so unhappy in the present that they live in the past. The beauty of it is that you don't have to live in just your past and your previous experiences, you can choose any point in history to drown in. While nostalgia itself is an extremely romantic, poetic ideal, no doubt the people who live in it run the risk of having it influence their present in such ways as to become naive to reality. But being aware is overrated, I'm hopping on the Albion to search for my Arcadia.

Never too much to read, Always too little time

There can never be "too much" to read. Maybe we're so caught in petty pursuits that it seems that way. Go work. Go consume. Go home, sweet, dysfunctional home. Keep going and never stop to live. 

Just keep going. Our "energizer bunny" culture tells us not to stop; it's hard to feel pain when rushed.  If we slow down, will we feel unsatisfied? Frustrated? Exhausted? Will we feel at all? If emotion seeps in, will our ad-sized attention spans turn it off? 

Working isn't always progress; stillness isn't always idleness. Slow down. Slow down, and feel. Feel power-crushing wind gusts. Feel your chapped lips and sore knees. Feel Poe, Beethoven,  Morrison. Feel what your soul yens for, and follow. 

Astral Projection

Forever changed last year by reading Lester Bang's review on Van Morrison's album "Astral Weeks", I find the subject to creep back into my life. The title of the album was influenced by the Irish painter Cezil McCartney who was famous for his drawings of astral projection.

At first presented with the idea of astral projection again in a certain classroom that we all hold dear, I thought nothing of it, until the concept started to make my present life make sense.
Is it possible that the disconnecting of the soul felt in the last post was caused by some sort of astral projection away from the physical being? Is it possible that the surreal phenomena felt in our dreams and the strange deja vu of our daily lives are caused by our own souls traveling throughout parallel universes? Is it possible that ones soul can interact with anothers soul in ways that only explain extremely odd coincidences and somehow very deeply connects them?

The Disconnection

How do you explain something as complex as disconnecting from yourself to a shallow, simple-minded person?

You've been following someone else-a path so foreign and yet intrigueing from your own. Hopefully there is peace in the end, but not suprisingly it never comes. The more you follow, the more you get lost.

"The more you follow me,

the more I get lost."

-The Babyshambles

You've wondered so far off of your old path that you can barely even remember what is was like. But this feels like a good thing, you really don't want to remember it. Even though you aren't completely satisfied and content with it, it has to be better because its different. Somehow you're getting somewhere, somewhere new and mysterious. After all, whats better to live for than the mystery, the darkness, anything out of the ordinary from the boring and mundane.

Life is better inside the mind. There, its fresh, bold, an full of romantic and artistic ideals. Unfortunately, it's not reality, and as much as I would like to convince myself otherwise, that world is more painful. The pain comes from forcing your mind to overcome your heart. You must forget what you desire for and concentrate on what is real and what is really happening. Put up that wall, divide yourself from the others, never letting them fully know or see. See that (an extremely cliched, hackneyed line) you have "lost yourself" and have to pretend this new path makes you happy and made you who you are. Just swallow the lie and make yourself believe it. Finally, you come to the conclusion that your subconscience cannot accept this lie-and that is why you feel the disconnection.

Brick Wall

"We don't need no education
We don't need no thought control"

In Civil Disobedience, Thoreau implies that humans are innately good. Government should continue to bring order, but "the government that governs least governs best". Because, all in all, we'll all find the goodness within ourselves. We don't have to change the world...just ourselves.

What Thoreau doesn't address is how society makes this so, so difficult. Government, materialism, and the workforce impress reliance on the system. We live trying to keep the broken wheels spinning. Good is buried deep, deep down inside. But we just need to change ourselves, nobody else. Because, magically, everybody else will see the light.

"No dark sarcasm in the classroom"

Unless we are advocates for change, the wheels will never stop turning. People will not dig for gold. They will keep running into brick walls. And, no matter how many times they smash their bodies against the hard barrier, they will never alter their course. They are impaired by society's hard drugs. They will feel nothing. After all, how many times can you run into a brick wall before you grow numb...

"All in all you're just another brick in the wall"