Christmas Prognostication

So in the interest of continuing my mobile writing experience I received two new portable keyboards for me to use on the go.  I'm using one to type this up now, still on my phone (even though I could be writing on my computer if I had taken it out of its bag).  It's looking more and more to me like I'll be able to do writing on the go.  Merry There are a fare share of hitches that seem to come with this territory, but as I practice with it  some more I think I'll learn to work with them and be fairly proficient after all.  That being said I should stop blogging  and get back to enjoying Christmas with my in-laws.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Thoughts scattered in time

I guess one of the troubles I have with receiving critiques of my own writing is that it has a tendency to dash my hopes. Oftentimes I am trying to elicit a certain emotional response from the reader, but some other details get in the way or the reader first feel invested enough yet.

If I were to try and diagnose the underlying weakness in my writing behind such difficulties, I would point to my high degree of introversion, though the manifestations of it in my writing may be manifold. For instance the surface explanation may be that I simply don't have the same emotional makeup as many if my potential readers and so what causes emotional distress in me is not what arouses the same in them. Crowds of people as small as a score can make me fairy uncomfortable, but some people thrive in such numbers.

It goes deeper than that, though. Certain situations can render me almost paralyzed with something between fear and anger, and I have rarely if ever handled these times in my life with grace. I have several friends who have expressed confusion (if only with their faces) over my paralysis in these situations. Perhaps it's only my perception but I feel I come across as something more animal than human in those moments.

The time between the above and this paragraph is the space of a few days, and considering I have seven minutes of my break left it's possible there will be another gap before this post is made.

In some of my free time I have been re-envisioning the work of my youth. Most of my free time is sent watching Sword Art Online, playing Guild Wars 2 and Facebook games, or reading Homestuck and theories thereof. There's food consumption in there somewhere but that's more of a part-time job than a way to spend my free time.

And as predicted it has been another few days. Honestly I should just post this before the year ends and this becomes even more of an incoherent mess. So here you go, a post in which I ramble.

More Extended Breaktime Thoughts

The temptation when blogging on a phone during the breaks at work is to complain. Not necessarily to complain about work, but that doesn't excuse it. Instead let's talk about writing.

The books I've read and classes I've taken indicate a writer must most often make time for writing rather than merely discover it or act on inspiration. I am if the opinion that inspiration should be neither ignored nor depended upon. It is too fleeting and too picky. So I guess I agree with my education:  it is best for a writer to arrange for acts of creation to take place. 

The trouble is I am not acting on this sage advice. I spend much if my day gaming or reading articles when I am home from work, and at work I have an hour of time free to do my own bidding. As of yesterday I am trying to spend at least a large chunk of that time blogging, but this doesn't account for my hours if dereliction at home. For that, I think there are a few more hurdles to overcome than simply typing into a phone rather than playing Angry Bird Ninja Jetpack on it.

I have expressed both publicly and privately that I would prefer to stay at home and write rather than tire myself it and punish my joints for fifteen cents an hour more than minimum wage. The self-same poor home habits as I have now wouldn't go away if I quit my job.

So I guess the solution is to man up and type words into a computer whenever I get the chance. Here goes.

Breaktime Thoughts

So this is my first attempt at blogging from my phone, and it is probably not going to be super profound.  Mostly it is an experiment in what I can make work.  Now... What to talk about.

I could talk about my views on sex or alcohol but that would take a while so maybe I'll be more simple. 

November was a hard month for me, and December is passing at an unreasonably quick pace. I haven't been as grumpy as I was afraid I'd be, mostly because I have so much to be thankful for.  Mostly I co tinge to fight a battle with complacency--fueled by my exhaustion from work.  I have only had this phone fir about a week but I am glad I thought to check for a bloggers app because this is a better use of my time than playing silky games like Bad Piggies. Even if they're really fun.

If I am good you should see more mobile blog posts coming out in the next few weeks. Otherwise I'll  just be disappointed in myself.

Anyway have a good one.

Peace.

There Are Halloween-Theme Leaves All Over My Lawn

I've gone almost the whole month of October in silence, at least with regards to the awakening and the subsequent consumption of perennial Asteraceae that this blog proposes to be its subject.  It's a far cry from the business of the early summer, when every day I had something to say, even if it wasn't particularly noteworthy.  I haven't been whiling away in purposelessness.

Not quite.

I've made no secret that I'm working now.  It's full time, and I admit that for the most part I've made vegetative choices with my off-hours.  There's a strong attraction I find for that sort of thing.  Something to take the edge off, to give it a fitting set of connotations.

I've also recently discovered that I need something to take the edge off, because without it I'm kind of a nasty person (fun fact I almost spelled nasty "gnasty").  It may be that I need to hone one edge and dull the other.

A week or two ago I discovered that I'm short on time.  Graduate school applications are coming due around the turn of the year, and I've some ways to go to be prepared.  I keep telling myself and my family that if I'm going to do what "needs to be done" I will need to divest myself of distractions, but I never do it.  I keep the good ones and the bad ones, and my pile of non-job responsibilities just grows on my non-existent desk.  Too much non on the one hand and not enough on the other.

I won't turn this into a memorandum post for myself by listing the aforementioned responsibilities.  Suffice to say I have enough writing to do without writing this blog, but that's probably an excuse.  I'm writing it now, aren't I?

I'm working on some song reviews that may go up in the next weeks, depending on all that.  Should be an interesting diversion.  We'll see.  I like that expression.  Here's the plan guys.  Let's watch and find out if it actually happens that way.

Usually it doesn't.

Autumnal

I am affected by the seasons.  Profoundly.  The trees change their leaves then shed them (or at least the deciduous do) as things get bleaker.  I just get...

Bleak.

As I have mentioned before, this is my first fall not going back to school.  One consequence of this is that this is my first autumn not spent amongst my immediate peers.  Another is that it is a season of special change, the sort of change I have never known.

Things are being pruned away.  My hope is that with time new buds will form which will blossom into sweeter, more robust fruit than I have ever produced, but when I am looking at the present rather than the hope of the future the outlook is not so bright.  I can taste the entropy of the universe on my tongue.

"Winter," as they say, "is coming."

I am eating more food for lunch today than many people eat in a week.  It's only a bowl full of taco with a bag of tortilla chips.  Leftovers.

The Teacher says, "This too is meaningless."

I get "tired" this time of year.  Often I choose not to let myself speak, because what comes out is dreary or, sometimes, vicious.  Sometimes it is both.

Back when Facebook wasn't a thing, when I was a teenager and Myspace existed in the public consciousness, I wrote a blog called "the Penumbra of a Bitter Winter."  It consisted of many of the same thoughts as you see here, though at more length.

I'd like to think I've learned lessons in wisdom, in tact.  Then, sometimes, I cast a blanket over a group of people with the word "idiot" on it, not thinking or caring that I have friends beneath that blanket.  I do it because I am bitter with the brokenness of the world, but that is no excuse, and I don't make it as one.  After moments like that, I call myself a fool and it seems the boulder I've been pushing slips my grasp and tumbles back down the hill.  This, too, makes me tired.

I want to be good.  I want to walk blameless in the sight of God and men.  All the quibbles over the word "man," all the tearing down and building up of language, of humanity—this, too, tires me.

And now what I want is to write down some song lyrics.

Cannot Keep You
Gungor

They tried to keep You in a tent
They could not keep You in a temple
Or any other idols to see and understand

We cannot keep You in a church
We cannot keep You in a Bible
Or it's just another idol to box You in

They could not keep You in their walls
We cannot keep You in ours either
For You are so much greater

Who is like the Lord?
The maker of the heavens
Who dwells with the poor?
He lifts them the ashes and seats them among princes
Who is like the Lord?

We've tried to keep you in our tents
We've tried to keep you in our temples
We've worshipped all our idols
We want all that to end
So we will find you in the streets
And we will find you in the prisons
And even in our Bibles
And churches

Who is like the Lord?
The Maker of the heavens
Who dwells with the poor?
He lifts them from the ashes and seats them among princes
Who is like the Lord?

We cannot contain
Cannot contain the glory of your name
We cannot contain
Cannot contain the glory of Your name

We cannot contain
Cannot contain the glory of your name

Who is like the Lord?
You took me from the ashes
And You healed me from my blindness
Who is like the Lord?


----

And I think I'll just leave it at that.

Words

Every morning I wake up before dawn to climb into a box made of metal and plastic and hurtle through what would be a seven-hour journey by foot in forty minutes so that I can spend the day cleaning machines covered in the coagulating, cement-corroding syrup which condenses from a mixture of soda and various alcoholic beverages.  I do this so that every Thursday an abstracted number will be added to the abstracted number "in my bank," said abstraction waiting there to be exchanged for physical goods necessary (or more often tertiary) to my survival and that of my spouse, who accompanies me on these daily adventures.  My spouse and I have aspirations for the abstraction building "in our bank," because this abstraction may serve to facilitate certain improvements to our quality of life, or more realistically the addition of more inscrutable objects by which we entertain ourselves or otherwise occupy our time.

When the determined time has finished, my spouse and I interact with a machine that manages an abstraction tangential to the one that will facilitate the exchange of goods.  Interaction with this machine permits us to remove our obligatory nominating placards and make a temporary exodus from the building where we toil, via the self-same plastic/metal box/machine that makes an otherwise prohibitive traversal trivial—barring the intrusion of Odocoileus Virginianus on the linear space maintained for box/machine travel, which could prove disastrous for the journey and perhaps the vitality of both occupants of our box.  We make such an exodus every day without fail, excepting the days we are arbitrarily given to rest from our toil.

On arriving back at the opulent shelter where our time is spent when not transported elsewhere by the miraculous fire-box, we exchange our (often soiled) work attire for more comfortable wear, and proceed to make use of smaller boxes crafted with the express purpose of connecting us to networks of other human beings through similar boxes, with the secondary effect of stunting our visual and auditory communication with the human beings who share the abode with us.

Which is what I'm doing now.

I'm also telling you about what I've been doing for the last couple weeks in nearly the most obscure way possible without losing everyone.  Though maybe I did lose everyone.

Anyway, that helped me survive a bit.  Don't have much else to say.  Later guys!

Jobness

I suspected having a job like the one I have now, working retail with two days off a week, and having only six hours of free time on the average day, would be soul-sucking.  Funny thing is usually work itself is fine.  It's getting up at five in the morning and going to bed at 9.  It's feeling like I don't have the time to do all the things I want to do.

Complain complain complain.  I know, I should just suck it up and work because that's what everyone else is doing.  Frankly, I'm lucky to have a job at all in this economy, considering my age and my education.  Especially, considering my experience.  People don't seem to want to hire someone who doesn't already have "ALL the experience."

More complaining.  Okay, I'm blessed to have a job, and I've been spoiled by the levels of free time I've had in my life up to now.  Now I have to learn to balance it all, and frankly that's gonna be rough.

Here we go, I guess?

Now With More Buds

I haven't blogged in a week, almost exactly.  That's not conspicuous at all, is it?  Don't worry, I might start blogging more frequently again soon.  I start orientation next week.  The pressing concern for the moment is this:

I'm standing in a wedding on Sunday.  I'm excited, but it's in Ohio, and my wife has to work, so that means I'll be apart from my wife for the better part of three days, and as jazzed as I am I'm going to be exhausted, because I know like... three people who are gonna be in the wedding?  I don't know how many Houghtonites will be at the wedding, and that's really the only group of people I know of the bride's, and I know even fewer of the grooms.

Still I'm honored to stand and witness the marriage of two good friends whose distance from me is yet another prod making me yearn to invent teleporters.

Graduating from college seems to have been a subtle shift in anxieties.  Some would say the stakes are higher now than they were, though monetarily I would say no way in heck are they actually.  Except that the high stakes from college have rolled over in the form of student loans looming over my head, demanding to be paid.

But I feel less like there's a single pressing project I need to finish to determine the course of my future, and more like every choice I make throughout every day contributes to the life I'm leading.

It's terrifying, but in the same way as a dull ache is agonizing.

Subtle, and always there, applying pressure.

I'm slowly making my way through The Hunger Games, to the pleasure of my family members who think it is quite good.  I have personal taste qualms about the first person present storytelling, though I think Collins executes it fairly well.  I am most impressed by the wells that go unmentioned in the story, one of things so often overlooked in first person stories.  The narrator is not always a stand-in for the author, and his/her flaws are rarely explicit, since it's hard to be fully conscious of your own failings.  The first person narrator in an active story is never (if the story is well done and the character well-fleshed-out) the unequivocal voice of truth.

Honestly, my personal voice choices have edged towards the third person omniscient, with the narrator having verisimilitude with the author.  It's an old-fashioned preference, but there it is.

At the same time as I wade into the strange coincidental cousin of the film Battle Royale, my wife is finishing up with The Wise Man's Fear, which means I can nerd out with her over a lot of stuff and we equally anticipate the third installment of the Kingkiller Chronicle.  I had some small ambition to review The Name of the Wind myself after reading a particularly aggravating review written by a professional.  I have since procrastinated and haven't done much that could be considered creative in the last week or so.

But I have played Guild Wars 2 like its servers are shutting down.  That's what you do when an MMO releases, right?  Play it eight hours a day for the first week?  That's pretty much what I did.

Now I sit and scoff at my own buffoonery and resist the urge to play the game.  It's hard, okay?  I love that game.  It's a mild obsession, and I'm doing my best to be an adult about it.

It's not going anywhere.

Time marches forward and more cool stuff is on the horizon.  Homestuck continues to be fantastic, a new season of Doctor Who approacheth, The Hobbit comes out this winter, and people have finally stopped harping on the "end of the world" that's supposed to happen before the year's over.  I probably jinxed it by saying that out loud on a blog that gets broadcast to... ten people?  I don't even know who all reads this blog, though you're awesome if you do, whether you agree with most of it or not.

One thing I've noticed about my life now is I don't feel like I'm in an environment where I can say, "All right, now I have to work on this" and have that be accepted.  That's probably just my bogus feelings, but it's true.  I feel like, since I don't have a grade waiting for the work that I do where the value of that grade is a condition of my earning honors that can get me hired better, any work I do is just frivolous head-in-the-clouds creative stuff.  I'm not saying my family doesn't support my art, but...

I need an art space.  A place to sit down that is the place where the ideas and the words are blended in an alchemical concoction meant to be administered to as many individuals as possible.  Okay, that got away from me.

-shrugs-

That's it for now.  Bye guys.

OMGW2!!1!!

So I started blogging daily last year with a blog about how I would probably be talking about Guild Wars 2, and now it is the eve of the headstart launch of the game.  Suffice to say, I probably won't be blogging quite so often as I was before, not that I have been lately anyway.

But seriously, I'm probably going to stop playing any games except this one for a long time.  I'll try to keep people updated about my life, especially since job is happening soon and all that comes with that.

If you're playing Guild Wars 2, I'll see you in game.  Otherwise, I'll see you around.

Peace.

A Silver Carthage

Cook up a narrative
For how we have been selfish
Dash it with spices
A Fancy Car
A Sword of Light

Dance in the ashes
When the words fall apart too soon
Tap on the motes
The scraps of metal
Heaping toward a void where the sky ends

Swim in the river
Running with obliging tears
Mourn what we had
It was already gone
Always belonged to someone

Else

Are we locked in a dance of attrition or is there something
Worse
At work here
A beast
Or even an angel
Whose purpose is less important than its effect

We forgot the fleshy centers for all the shiny bits
And with all that gleaming metal we lost our nerves
The ones that made us tender to the touch of life
We burned
Like Rome or London except no one ever bothered to
Rebuild
So maybe instead it was

A Troy of glinting steel
A necropolis of toys ruled by an angel of fire
Roaring in the night while the city smolders
And here we are, raindancing on the skeletons
Of the finer things we wrung from life

Just look at me wearing only our ashes
Is this what we meant when we swore forever
How I tried to run away when I saw the flames
To some silent haven from the heat

But the tether we made withstood the fire
And I am trapped here in sight of you
Remembering how we laughed because
The world was bright with polished iron

Discover the embers
Hidden under the bookcase
Don't heed the god
Those precious coals
Were once stars

Blow on the starlight
So we can see the world as it is
Stoke the hope-seeds
Prayers of challenge
Maybe this

Is Carthage and not Troy
Someday it will rise again
Never the same as it was
But blooming anyway

Flowers ensconced in the fires of a demon
Still dying
Still growing
Still beautiful

And we will feel it all and watch with tears
Like human beings with souls
With nerves that end at our fingertips
It will hurt like hell never could

Smile like you did
Before we made a junkyard of our hearts
Let it be a shadow
Never the same as it was
But blooming anyway

Somebody's Baby

Let's talk about this song.  The one that follows.  If you were there for Forget and Not Slow Down you'll know the deal.

Somebody’s Baby

Jon Foreman

She yells, “If you were homeless sure as hell you’d be drunk, or high trying to get there, or begging for junk, when the people don’t want you, they just throw you money for beer.”

Her name was November, she went by Autumn or Fall.  It was seven long years since the autumn when all of her nightmares grew fingers and all of her dreams grew a tear.

She’s somebody’s baby, somebody’s baby girl.

She’s somebody’s baby, somebody’s baby girl.

And she’s somebody’s baby still.

She screams, “Well if you’ve never gone it alone well then go ahead you’d better throw the first stone you got one lonely stoner waiting to bring to her knees.”

She dreams about heaven remembering hell.  There’s a nightmare she visits and knows all too well.  Every now and again when she’s sober she brushes her teeth.

She’s somebody’s baby, somebody’s baby girl.

She’s somebody’s baby, somebody’s baby girl.

And she’s somebody’s baby still.

Ah.

Today was her birthday, strangely enough when the cops found her body at the foot of the bluff.  The anonymous caller this morning tipped off the police.  They got her ID from her dental remains, the same fillings in tack the same nicotine stains.  Her birth and her death were both over with no one to grieve.

She’s somebody’s baby, somebody’s baby girl.

She’s somebody’s baby, somebody’s baby girl.

And she’s somebody’s baby still.

She’s somebody’s baby still.

----

I don't have as much to say about this song as I did about the Relient K songs.  It's kind of really depressing, but it has this point that pretty much sums up how I feel about humanity.

It's bad, sad, and pathetic, but we still belong to someone.  Even if you disregard the thought of God, everyone has a mother, whether she was ever in the picture or not.  There's love somewhere.

And it'd be a whole lot better if we showed it to more people who need it.

There.  Nice and concise.  Now to live up to it.

A Few Scattered Thoughts

If I were a troll or a fool I could keep moving down the list of things I hold polarizing opinions about, but I found out a year or so ago that airing all my passionate beliefs is usually only good to make a whole bunch of people mad at me for silly reasons.  So instead of that—actually, not instead, since I had no desire of doing that again in the first place.

Rather, I wanted to talk about sad things.  Maybe I'll save it for tomorrow or some other day that I have more time and energy to discuss it, but I want to talk about Jonathan Foreman's "Somebody's Baby," because I think it says something important about humans and our worth, a worth not squandered by our decisions.

And maybe, why that matters as a philosophical concept.

I wrote a poem this morning after returning from driving my wife to work.  The concept behind it was something like a person who wants to be a hero, but ends up screwing up in the worst way and pretty much literally ruining everything.

Insofar as the speaker in a poem can do anything "literally."

I think "literal" is a problematic concept to deal with using language, given how heavily dependent on symbolism language is.  Our cultural definition of the word "literal" and therefore "literally" emphasizes the connotation that an act or event that "literally" takes place is stripped of most if not all of its symbolic meaning.  The thing itself transpires.  But if I were to tell you, using this data-based pixel medium in an Anglicized Romantic script, that "I literally just punched a beach ball right now," there's sort of this issue where your "right now" doesn't sync with my "right now," and that the transmission of the information "I literally just punched a beach ball right now" does not include the thing itself transpiring, just the idea that that's what happened.  Semantic space is a weird bunch of necessary hogwash we deal with constantly so we can get along being better than beasts.

Just to spite myself and my example, I didn't actually punch the beach ball, even though it is sitting on the floor and I could get up and "literally just punch" it "right now."

A while back (as in last year) I tried writing a poem every day, then just adding lines to a poem every day, and eventually that blew over because I don't have that much poetry in me unless there's a poetry class where my grade relies on me producing lines of verse, whether free or incarcerated.  Every once in a while I have a poem just kind of spill out of me, like this morning, but I don't know whether they're good until I look at them later.  That is what it is.

I've expressed this sentiment before, but I wish I could just spend all my time working on the various stories I want to tell.  It's hard to practice when I'm too busy consuming stories.  Yeah, that's definitely a familiar line of thought.  That apparently still hasn't stopped being a thing I'm working on.

What you've just read is what comes of this blog without direction.  Maybe it was fun, or maybe it was annoying, or maybe you skipped to the end to see if I had any news about something interesting.

Spoilers, there's no news.  Well, actually, I guess there is up there closer to the top of the post.  I... guess you could read this blog post in a non-linear fashion?  Maybe you won't get too lost.

I will now let you go and refrain from ranting about how I feel concerning non-linear storytelling.

It's a complicated mess.

Ciao.

I Just Wanted to Be a Hero

All I wanted
Was someone to say,
"There.  That's a hero.
Look at the people he saved."

All I wanted
Was just
A little glory
To share with my friends.

I never wanted
All of this—
The silence
Wrapping us in;

How the creaking
World-wheels
Grate
Against their splinters,

And some moments
If you're listening
You can hear
The whimpers of the dying.

Sway Ring

Hmm...
This soap box is getting a little creaky...
And...
Sudsy...

Anyway, I've got more stuff on my chest I'd like to slough off.  Maybe a shower would do it better, but hey!  What else is a blog for?  Today, let's talk about swearing.

I know what you're thinking.  "Man, eff that ess!  This is bee ess, and I'm not effing gonna put up with that noise, eff-wad."

Or, you know, not that.

I'll sum up my grievance with swearing about as briefly as I can.  It makes you stupid.

Now, there's an article on cracked out there citing studies that suggest maybe venting your frustration with vehement words can increase your pain tolerance and have other health benefits, but you know what?  That's a $%^#y way to deal with your problems.

Here's how swearing makes you stupid, and makes everyone around you more stupid.

At least in today's society, swear-words are words that are being pared away from their meanings, like skin off a potato.  This is because the words are used outside contexts they were originally intended for.

Like telling people to get their "S together," or saying that you "know your S."  These sorts of uses for a word that's supposed to mean "feces" equate the contents of a person's life with something as strongly negative as our solid waste.  And seriously?  You want to compare your life and that of others to useless waste products?  Constantly?

Dumb.

Or, you know, using "F" in its several forms as nothing more than extra syllables to nominally improve the rhythm of your speech.  Because that's really worth it.

Or asking God to condemn people and things into the fires of hell, when you don't believe that God or hell exist and thus what you've said amounts to a great big pile of vague maliciousness.

So maybe what I mean to say when I say "swearing makes you stupid" is "swearing effectively communicates useless, non-constructive concepts" like senseless anger and ill-will that if you're honest with yourself you probably don't really mean.

And you know what the prevalence of this is doing?  It's setting powerful precedent for stripping things we say of meaning, turning the sprawling and magnificent edifice of language into so much drivel.

Actually, I don't know if I have anything else to say about this.  Say what you mean.

I'll try to do the same.

There.  No more soap box.

So I got a job yesterday.  I am glad of this.  I'll start after I get the background check sorted out.  That means my wife and I both have jobs and we can start earning a good bit of money.

And maybe not stay in my parents' house anymore.  And, you know, start living something that resembles a normal life.

Because to be honest, where I was at this summer was a sort of limbo.  It'll be good to move on.

Peace out.

Taller Ants

I'm just gonna sort of...
climb up on this soap box...
and...

HI GUYS.  Tolerance is dangerous.  Ah—ah—ah!  Hear me out before you string me up by my uncivilized beliefs.  I've got stuff to say.

So let's say you have neighbors, and these neighbors are different than you.  No, they don't have different levels of melanin or denser muscle construction or a condition that leaves them with a height deficit—or rather, if they do have any of these things it doesn't matter for our discussion, because seriously?  They're different because they make different choices with their lifestyle.

Choices you disagree with.

Now there's a couple ways this can go down, depending on whether you care about the choices they're making.  For the purposes of this thought experiment, let's say these folks your neighbors are Meat-Eaters.  Shudder.  Or not shudder.  The experiment's flexible.  Now also for the purpose of this experiment you and your family don't eat meat.

Here's some ways this can be the case.  Your family could have a pretty poor biological disposition towards meat, one that makes it either untenable or merely unpleasant to consume meat, so meat just isn't a thing you do.  Your family could also hold animals of any kind in such high regard that the thought of killing them and stuffing them down your gob leaves you in a case of the sweats.

In the former instance, it's unlikely you would have anything against the choice to eat meat, other than perhaps a lack of the perspective of those who can actually and literally stomach the muscle (and other organs) of beasts.  In the latter instance you have a choice to make.

You can disapprove of your neighbors' Meat-Eating, or you can shrug it away as just a different life choice than yours.  Someone who wants to make things simple would call these the intolerant and tolerant choices, respectively.

And yes, to make it clear, in our culture "tolerance" now refers to whether you disapprove of a life choice you disagree with or just impassively disagree.  If you didn't think that, reanalyze your definition.  It's fine to disagree with that definition of tolerance (and thus intolerance), but just know that—at least as far I as I read the culture—that's what people in a public mean when they're talking about tolerance.

So how is this "tolerance" dangerous?

Our cultural pressure is towards not caring what choices other people make with their lives, even friends and family.  We're not supposed to disapprove of things, except "intolerance."  So the only thing we're really supposed to disapprove of is disapproving of things.

When you don't care about the choices other people are gonna make, you're not going to do anything about it.  When you disapprove, it's entirely possible you'll at least going to say something to them.

But you're not going to go kill them, or cuss them out in their homes, because let's face it kids, that's just unconscionable behavior.  That isn't "intolerance," it's straight-up honest bigotry.

You know what's not bigotry?  Saying, "I think what you're doing is wrong, and I think you should stop."  And if they don't stop, but what they're doing doesn't warrant putting them under house arrest or some such, then you let it go, because that stuff can poison you.

You see, I hate homosexuality.  The lifestyle choice.  The lifestyle itself.  I think it's disgusting and wrong and sinful.  But it's just a different shade of the adulterous lifestyle, which I also hate and think is disgusting and wrong and sinful.  So yeah, there's a couple dozen million people in the US whose lifestyle choices I disapprove of.  And I don't mind saying it.  I also don't mind saying I think what you're doing is wrong, and I think you should stop.

And like other things I disapprove of, it sometimes makes me angry to see people making what I believe are dangerous, harmful mistakes.  But you know what, I'm not gonna kill you.  I'm probably not even going to get in a shouting match with you unless you press the issue with me, because I'd rather not have this get to be a big hairy mess that ruins the things we've got going.

I'm a middle child.  People pleaser and all that.

But okay, so you can get harassed for "intolerance" if you tell someone you think what they're doing is wrong and you think they should stop.  You know what that discourages?  Standing up for causes.

So let's say your neighbors are Meat-Eaters, but the meat they happen to be eating happens to be people.  And you really, really don't like that.  You think it pretty well desecrates the dignity of human beings, and that's just not okay.

But what if our culture says, "Eh, we've got a population surplus anyway."  Remember, this is a thought experiment.  I'm not saying our culture has espoused this unthinkable position, but I am saying that groups of people have decided to approve (or at least look the other way from) terrible things in the past, and it's probably going to happen again.  So culture's like:  "Let them eat their people, since they aren't actually killing anyone, they're just getting hobo meat from the morgue."

And you're still thinking not okay.

What do you do?

I'm gonna put my foot down here and say that cannibalism is never okay.  I've got really good, Christian friends who disagree with me—or at least I think they do.  There is a sort of debate about what happens in extreme conditions.  Now for me, if we're all caught in the wilderness and the only hope for survival is for a person to eat a person, I honestly believe it's better for everyone to die.  That is one quantification of the value I put on human life and the human body.

So in this hypothetical scenario, I'm gonna say it's definitely wrong for your neighbors to be eating people, and they need to stop doing it.  I don't care how old their tradition is or how well-ingrained into their cultural psyche it has become.  You don't eat people.  Stop it.  In fact, I think it's probably something they should be forced to stop doing.

I mean, I'm not going to go kill them in their sleep or cuss them out in their homes, because that's just unconscionable behavior.  But I might organize a group of like-minded people who are horrified by these neighbors' behavior, and we would use proper channels and social pressure to make the neighbors stop eating people.

Is that fair, whether or not we succeed?  Even though these people-eaters might be devastated by what happens—even though it ruins their way of life?  Or is that intolerance, and thus unacceptable?

Now you're probably thinking "there's a world of difference between people-eaters and homosexuals."  Yeah, and killing babies before they're born.  It's a great big world of difference.  Sure.

Not everyone agrees with how much distance there is between adultery and murder.  And if you espouse "tolerance" there isn't much room for you to disapprove of that disagreement.  I hope I've made clear that it isn't right to go campaigning against the rights of people for shelter and food, but I don't believe the pursuit of happiness gives you permission to do everything that makes you happy.

We're sick, humanity.  We like things that break our minds and our spirits.  We self-destruct as a force of habit.  It makes us "happy."  Especially when we don't know a better happiness.

I think the pursuit of happiness is a little more about the search, about weighing what is good and what is bad, and a little less about doing whatever you first think is good for you.

So yeah, you may not be convinced that tolerance is a dangerous thing to espouse, but that's okay.  I'll let you keep believing in the idea so long as you don't cram it down my throat.  In fact, let's just not cram things down peoples' throats, okay?

Feel free to comment either at the bottom of this post or on The Facebook, so long as you can keep a civil tongue.  Let's disagree, even disapprove, without resorting to maliciousness.

I'm probably gonna soap box about something else again tomorrow, in case this really wasn't your cup of tea.  Don't worry, this isn't gonna go on as long as Forget and Not Slow Down did.  I honestly don't have that much to rant about.

Okay that was a lie.  But I'm still not gonna go on about this kinda stuff too long.

Also, I have a job interview today.  Woo.

-shrugs-

Back?

I am astounded by how a single week away can throw a hitch in your carefully crafted schedule.  And by carefully crafted, I mean teetering on the edge of not actually a schedule.  Now I've got to build up daily blogging and morning runs all over again.

It will be worth it, though.  It was last time.

There's also job-searching to do.  Oh boy.

You know what's on my mind right now (other than super heroes)?  It's the fact that this will be my first fall away from school in about seventeen years.  Do you know how strange that is to me?

So strange.  I don't really have anything else to say.

My friends and I are coming up with superpowers.

There's that.  Good to be back.  By for now, folks.

Tales From Further Off

August 2nd, 2012:

I have had quite a bit of time in the last few days to work on my creative projects without the distraction of the internet, or the need to deal with dishes, trash, or bored little sisters.  It has led to some writing, some drawing, some reading, and admittedly some playing of Game Boy games and copious napping.  Nevertheless, I have had time once again chisel away at the ending to Talas Ke, my first great work of fiction, ten years in the making and filled with the changes a boy makes as he grows into a man.

I have time to make casual observations, especially about my writing style.  For a very long time I could only write from an individual character’s perspective, either because of pride or because I could not stand the tone of my writing when it was not written from the limited third person.  This has shifted since I did much writing of Talas Ke—shifted to the point where I am finding it difficult to write with the same hard-line limited third person perspective that in some ways defines the narrative that is Talas Ke.  I find myself backing away to offer a clearer perspective than one character can offer to the reader, especially now that so much is happening.  To be frank, I feel stymied by that old style, having learned the merits to an omniscient narrator and picked up a stronger love for the old fantasies that used it than ever before.  I have grown as a writer, and it’s a hard line to walk when you have to make choices about how to finish your story.

I could end as Kvothe threatened to begin his tale.  I could say, “They lose one for the sake of the whole, and though peace is claimed, it is a brief and bitter peace.”  Not so succinct as “I loved, lost, trusted, and was betrayed,” but you get the picture.  Neither of these really suits a story spanning hundreds of thousands of words, except as a sort of parody.

I could be stiff and brittle, playing judge to the complex emotions the characters are struggling through.

I could be florid, letting it all flood through the cracks in their masks.

What makes it more difficult is that I fear much will change about the tale when I rewrite it, and I’m conflicted as to whether I should finish the story before I start such major revisions or if I should rework it all from the beginning, and save myself the loss?

Who am I kidding?  There will be a loss, whether I finish this story now or never finish it at all.  It is that kind of story, I am sad to say.  I’m not sure whether I know how to tell a story that isn’t about loss.  Not one I would consider good, anyway.  To lose, to have broken, is to be human.

To hope is also to be human, but a certain sort of human.  A stubborn one, one who breaks and fades but simply will not end.  It is this character that engages me, the broken-but-not-gone, whether the breaking was their own doing or not.  Perhaps especially the ones who broke themselves.

As I have said before, I find that I am my own antagonist.

Aside from that knot of life-threads that is Talas Ke, I’ve also done some work on my Hearthstead comic, which is depressing in its own right.  The subject matter was my choice, if that reveals a particular bent I may have.

I may have said I don’t like stories that end without hope, but I never said my own writing isn’t filled with hardship.

The emotional atmosphere of my drawing is a little more relaxed than all that, when I’m not trying to tell an explicit story through it.  When I’m working on my drawing—techniques, representation, all that—the intensity is a quieter one.  I am silently pressuring myself to improve, to become something better than a scribbling amateur so that I can take more joy in that art than I do now.  

I would say that music brings me the most joy, but even then my drive to improve (both composition and performance) makes me critical and obsessive.

Maybe all these things I’m admitting to reveal that I am an artist, or more likely they reveal that I am a perfectionist who suffers because my passion lies in places that cannot easily be perfected.  Don’t expect every creative person you meet to sound such dark notes about their artistic lives:  I have always believed myself a bit of a freak, and you are perfectly entitled to be an artist who feels vastly more joy in your work than consternation.

Perhaps I should stop listening to this cello quartet play a song called “Oblivion.”  It couldn’t be affecting my mood in the slightest, though.

You may have noticed in all that ranting that I made a reference to The Name of the Wind.  Well, I’m re-reading that book this week while at campmeeting.  On a related note, I probably ought to have brought The Wise Man’s Fear with me as well, since I seem to be plowing through the first Day rather quickly.

If you haven’t read the first two thirds of Patrick Rothfuss’s Kingkiller Chronicle, do so.  Unless you despise fantasy (I ask again, why are you still reading my blog?), or have that same sort of qualms that keep you from reading Homestuck, since their content is roughly similar in maturity level (that is, Homestuck has oodles more swearing, and the Kingkiller Chronicle has lots more sex, and both have lots of violent deathiness).  The best part of the storytelling is that much of it is done by the protagonist, in a framed narrative sort of way that makes the story that much more delicious.

And emotive.

Now, I have taken this long break to present you these words, which you are nearly finished reading.  It is time I returned to the task at hand, involving a certain character trying to redeem his entire race before they can [spoiler].

God bless.

Back For a Sec

That was kind of a long break for me to take, but I think, for the most part, it was worth it.  I'd love to say I was really busy getting up to all the things—I'd love to claim I had all the irons in the fire, as it were—but honestly I didn't do much except hang with family and chill out and stuff.

Here's the thing, I'm probably taking a huge break again, because there's likely not going to be reliable internet at camp meeting, where I'm going for a week.  If there is internet I'll blog, if there's not I'll blog and post it later.

I went and saw the Batman movie today.  I think what made the biggest impression on me was the quote near the end, where [a character] reads from the final words of A Tale of Two Cities.  It goes something like: "I do a far, far better thing now than I have ever done, and I go to a far, far better place than I have ever known."

And it fits so well with the story of the movie.

And that's all the spoilerificness I have for that movie, other than that, you know, there's Batman in it.

Sorry for spoiling that for you.

I recently watched a bunch of My Little Pony and it's growing on me.  Especially since the actor who played Q in Star Trek was the voice of the wicked spirit Discord.  Every moment of that character was splendid, though I dread to think that some day some kid is going to be watching old shows and say, "Hey, that funny god-man is Discord from My Little Pony!"

But still, the awesomeness is undistilled.

I've been working on Hearthstead comics in the last week.  Got some panels done.  It's hard work, drawing.  Even when you're not very good.  I won't say especially.  I'm not sure the amount of work changes.  Maybe the quality.  But don't take my word for it.  I'm not a visual artist.  Or, not an accomplished one.  Eh, I don't know, but I'm trying.  But anyway, the comic's not far enough along for me to show it off on the internet yet.  It's coming along, though.  So there's that.

My wife has a job and I'm making comics.  Our anniversary's coming up.  Married for a year.  That's awesome, and I'm excited.

But yeah, there's what's going on lately, and I'll talk to you later.

Gone North to Slay Dragons, BBS

I took care of my nearly two-year-old nephew today, and that was a ton-load of fun.  There isn't much else to say about the day, except that I did some Skyrim too, and it was fun continuing the game and slaying some dragons.

I think the best part of that experience was finishing off a boss undead with a slow-motion firebolt before my flame atronach could do it for me.  Or a similar experience shattering a skeleton up against a wall with the same means of destruction.

Oh, and my wife has a job.  Just waiting on a background check and the end of vacation stuff.  That's the most exciting thing, really.  It's good, and I'm happy.

That's it for the day.  Have a good week peeps, maybe we'll talk later.

It's Over (Or At Least It Can Be)

Okay, so I didn't blog yesterday.  Here's my explanation:  in the morning, my wife and I got up to go to a meeting that lasted till around noon (including driving time), after which I said good-bye to a good friend till Christmas and to my parents until about a week from now.  Then, really soon after that, we headed over to my cousin's, where we hung out all day and I marathoned Guild Wars 2 with him for most of that time.  So, I could have done my blog then, but I was kinda busy having an insane amount of fun.

But I intend to finish today.  So here we go.

So, this is the end, whether you want it or not.  And actually, bombshell, I might take a few days off of blogging again, both because this has actually been a lot of work and because I'm still probably going to be really busy in the coming days.

Unlike the other songs on the album, these last two aren't "afterthoughts" or "tags" to each other, they're really kind of two versions of the same song.  The first, though it starts off slow, primarily on the piano, breaks into a frenetic song and just keeps building until the sudden cut off into "(If You Want It)."  The second song is longer, with more esoteric lyrics, where the first, faster song is a bit more direct.  Let's take a look.

This Is The End
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)

I can't keep a straight face
And say this is not the end
Not if you want it it's upon us
And I wanna say it's sinking in.
Oh

This may sound crazy but I wanna come back home.
That's it I said it now I'm sailing off to Neverland and then Japan.

So think real slow
Don't forget that yes is yes and no is no
About the way you wanna go
'Cause I may forget the way to get back home

This is the end if you want it
This is the end

You're not the first thing in my life I've loved and lost
Yeah I've thought worse things
that I might be less inclined to merely just shrug off.
I took the fire escape and made it out alive.
Yeah I still burn from time to time
But I've a healing hand against my side.

So think real slow
Don't forget that yes is yes and no is no
About the way you wanna go
'Cause I may forget the way to get back home

This is the end if you want it
This is the end if you want it
This is the end

(If You Want It)
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)


I can't keep a straight face and say this is not the end
Not if you want it it's upon us and I wanna say it's sinking in.
If I was hasty maybe I was rushed along
I won't move into little boxes and then not get the itch to move on.

So think real slow
Don't forget that yes is yes and no is no
Melting prints of grass and snow
Means I may forget the way to get back home

This is the end if you want it
This is the end

You're not the first thing in my life I've loved and lost
Yeah I've thought worse things that I might be less inclined to merely just shrug off
You'll take me home
Like my family did my father did I know
You'll think real slow
And don't forget the speed that I can go
Away

'Cause this is the end if you want it
This is the end—

I've been convincing myself
That I'm worthwhile
'Cause I'm worth what I'll convince myself to be
Been convincing myself
That I'm worthwhile
'Cause I'm worth what I'll convince myself to be—

I met the devil and I stared her in the eyes
Her hair has scales like silver serpents
I a statue stood there mesmerized
I took the fire escape and made it out alive
Yeah I still burn from time to time
But I've a healing hand against my side

Blisters on my feet I crawl back home
Frozen from the sleet, burned sand and stone
Nourished back to life by life alone
With one shake of the mane regain
The throne.

----

One thing I'll mention is that the official lyrics for these two tracks are listed as one song.  Both songs start with the same line, "I can't keep a straight face and say this is not the end," and they continue to have lines in common (like fire escapes and thinking slow).  After the first line, "This Is The End" bursts in with guitars and drums in a faster, almost punk rock rhythm, though Thiessen's singing style retains some of its reflectiveness despite its passion.

There are themes of lostness here at the end that were mostly just foreshadowed in other songs on the album, except the wandering into the plains during the bridge of "Sahara."  This theme seems tied to the theme of travel in the album, and reflects Thiessen's struggle to be "certain the steps of left and right don't fight the direction of upright."  He admits that he wants to go home, but then says that he's going to two fantastic locations, one invented (Neverland) and one real (Japan).

Then he commands his subject to "think real slow" "about the way you wanna go," perhaps suggesting that this is the true last chance Thiessen is offering to his love.  He's saying, "Okay, I'm going this way.  You can come with me, or we can part ways."  And they do.

Thiessen reflects that he's had losses and heartbreaks before, and that he's "thought" of  "worse things" that could happen—there's that thread of "things could still be worse" again.  What comes next in "This Is The End" is Thiessen escape by fire escape—a desperate method, and an interesting metaphor considering what's happened to him.  I think this metaphor is intended to refer to the fire we hear in "Sahara," one in part "ignited" by himself to combat his desolation.  The metaphor extends to a physical injury, a burn (but only an occasional one) which is being helped by a Healing Hand.

Then the admonishment to think slow—and now I point out the irony considering Thiessen's stated policy of the album to not slow down—and the statement that this is the end are repeated, rising in intensity until Thiessen bites of the word "end" at the end of the track.

The transition into piano and voice alone is immediately, without an interlude between the "end" of the first track and Thiessen cutting in again with "I can't keep a straight face..."  I say there's just piano and voice, but as I listen through more closely there are also strings filling in the sound.  What you won't hear in the final track are guitars or drums.  You might say that Thiessen's bandmates have backed away for this song, so that he can finish it himself.

I think I might make a parsing of meaning between the two songs.  The first one is pretty clearly aimed at Thiessen's now-ex, but the second one has references that I think fit a You rather than a you, if you take my meaning.  I can't say it's all for Him, though, because the addition after the shared first line seems pretty well aimed at her.  However, it could easily be read that Thiessen is talking about the situation now with his Father.

There's some more ammunition against this, because at one point Thiessen refers to his "father" in third person while talking to someone else.  I think there are too many doubled meanings in these songs to say for sure it's meant to be just one thing over the other.  Especially in the quieter track, where more practical lines are replaced with images like melting snow contributing to Thiessen's inability to get home, the meanings are rather ambiguous (but still present).

It may be that there is a dark note to be read in this final track.  When I first saw the title for these last two tracks, I was worried that this might be Relient K's final album, or at least a threat of it.  I no longer think it was anything quite that superficial.  However, there seems to be more to this end (if you want it) than just the end of a relationship, and I think it ties back to my discussion of "Sahara" and Thiessen's revelation of his tendency to desert even as he has been deserted.

It's also hooked into the way we use some language about leaving this life, like "moving on."  I don't want to read too heavily into any idea of Thiessen wanting to kill himself, because I don't think that was ever something weighing too heavily on his mind.  However, there is still that thread, if we read Thiessen as also saying to God, "This is the end if you want it."  I think a clearer reading might be that if God wanted to be done with him, Thiessen would accept that because of how he's been.  In that light, Thiessen is having a conversation with one person who we know wants this to be the end, and another Who isn't giving up on him yet.

So Thiessen talks about wanting to go home, but not going (heading instead to Japan), about forgetting the way, and losing his tracers.  Then he says:  "You'll take me home, like my family did my father did I know."  To me this means that God will guide him because he can't guide himself, and that Thiessen's own family nurtured him while he was struggling with the desolation.  Saying that "You'll think real slow," is a reprise of the thought from the first track, but also a reference to God working on His own time, and not ours.  Thiessen warns him, though, not to "forget the speed that [he] can go away," that he can wander off into the plains again.  He's still asking not to be turned loose, even if he turns his back.

In a bridge of sorts, Thiessen tells us that he's convincing himself that he's worth it.  There is a blow to the self-esteem you get when you're rejected, and it can be a delicate matter to rebuild it and keep a state that might be described as "egoless while self-assured."  It takes guidance.  This bridge is both a cut-in and a cut-out, where Thiessen's first word of it cuts off the "end" of the chorus-ish line, and the last word is cut off by the next section.

We get a strange sort of perspective of Thiessen's relationship here, right at the very end.  It seems he compares his former love to a Medusa-devil—a sort of succubus.  More accurately, he calls the Devil a woman with attributes of Medusa, and that it struck him.  It wouldn't be fair to say that this is his description of what his relationship with the lady was really like, but I think this had something to do with the end or it wouldn't belong here.  It's here we also get the return of the fire escape.  Whereas in "This Is The End" we aren't given an idea of what Thiessen is escaping from, now we have the image of him stumbling away from the Devil after recovering enough from being turned to stone, and now he's still recovering from that encounter with some Help.

Then, the end comes, as Thiessen crawls home with blistered feet, with images of weather-blasted condition, but that life (or Life) alone has saved him (as opposed to hiding under a rock, dwelling upon and slowing down).  The very last line returns to the lion metaphor of "Sahara," as a mane is shaken and a throne is taken.  In some ways, it's the Thiessen-lion stepping back in control of his life, and in others it's the Lion of Judah taking back His rightful place on the throne of Thiessen's life.  In all ways, the end of Forget and Not Slow Down hits a note of restoration with intent to carry on.  Now, this may not be in the same totally vibrant spirit as expressed at the start, but we know the strength is there to not "go slow."

I don't know that I have much else to say.  The album ends on a suspended chord that isn't the tonic of the key—which renders the effect of an ambiguous ending.  I think this is meant to say that in very, very important ways, this is not the end.

And I'm glad of that, because if Thiessen takes the sort of art from this album and applies it to the one Relient K is working on right now, it's going to be superb.  To be honest I'm a little afraid, because I hold this album in such esteem I might be disappointed.  Still, I trust Thiessen to be himself with his music, and he and his bandmates to make that music shine, so even if the next original Relient K album isn't as good as Forget and Not Slow Down, there's still tons of space for it to be a really good album.

And that's that, guys.  A week or so of blogging and I've analyzed a whole album of lyrics for you guys.  It's been suggested to me that I do more song reviews like this, and the idea is appealing, but like so many things in my life and my work, my word on this is "we'll see."

Peace out folks.

In Case Of Credulity

One of the first things I noticed listening to this song today was that the opening guitars riffs remind me of the melodic line of the verses in "Therapy."

So there's that.

Actually, I'm not done talking bout the musical aspects of this song.  Because they're amazing, frankly.  I don't have the modern musical vocabulary to explain to you what exactly about the blend of guitar and piano with right-on drums works so well, but it does.  There is one thing:   throughout this song there's a piano part running arpeggios at a brisk pace under the guitars and drums, and then at the end of the song that part comes out again, ending "If You Believe Me" on a reflective note—which is perfect to transition into the albums final two tracks.

I talked about how the end of Forget and Not Slow Down quiets as it comes to a close, but "If You Believe Me" is anything but quiet.  It's got some of the fire left over from Sahara, blended into a return of the more typical Relient K energy from the first few tracks, as if Thiessen is showing us that if he did slow down for this album, it's not because he's gonna stay that way.  I think, looking to the future beyond Forget and Not Slow Down, having this song here, with the energy it has, is essential for the message of the album.  Relient K isn't turning into a sad bad with extinguished fire.  They're still going strong.

This is in a bit of contrast with the words of the piece, but I'll let you take a look for yourself first.


If You Believe Me
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)

I got a chill and I wanted to say it was you
Be still because what I'm about to say is the truth
Unless we stretch until the point of nearly breaking in two
We'll never find our weakness coming unglued

A cracked sculpture I wanted to say it was you
Feeding vultures are why I feel the way that I do
I fell in love and I wanted to say it was you
I wanted to say it was you

If you believe me
We could stand the test of time like no one else
If you believe me
It means you'd have to disbelieve yourself

A sudden wind and I wanted to say it was you
I've never been so confused about who knows the truth
Where to begin well I wanted to say it was you
Because you swore you had your hand in this too

If you believe me
We could stand the test of time like no one else
If you believe me
You know it means you'd have to disbelieve yourself
If you believe me

'Cause I'm here wondering what could you be thinking?
Though I know you're there thinking that I wonder that all the time
I can still invade your thoughts when you're not with me
Yeah don't mind me I'm just a parasite on your mind
Yeah don't mind me I know you're wondering all the time

If you believe me
We could stand the test of time like no one else
If you believe me
It means you'd have to disbelieve yourself
If you believe me

----

Before I dive right into my lyrical analysis, I wanted to mention that this particular song is that hardest for me to decipher when it comes to what words Thiessen is actually saying.  So hard, in fact, that I actually dug out my cd case and consulted the official lyrics.  I've not done that for any of the songs before this one.  So this one has exactly the right lyrics, whereas the others might be a little off.  Now to the analysis.

He's talking to her again, clearly.  This song's placement after "Savannah" is important for another reason than just as a demonstration of good energy at the end of the album.  Yesterday I talked about the sort of flight of fancy "Savannah" entailed.  In it Thiessen both reflected on the relationship that was lost and told a sort of story about how it could get better again.
Now, Thiessen is addressing that story.

The thrust of this song is that the relationship Thiessen and the lady had was better than she thought it was, But he knows she's not going to have any of that.  This starts in the first verse, where Thiessen flat out tells her (with a warning to "be still" or pay attention) that if they got back together (thus the glue) it would take something very huge to break the relationship again.

Then, before we get to the chorus, Thiessen moves into another verse/stanza.  I think the cracked sculpture is a reference to the metaphor of the previous verse, that something damaged can still be beautiful.  The vultures I think are a call-back to "Sahara" and that song's theme of desertion and dying, and are probably why there's a bit of bite in Thiessen's voice and why he feels that, though the relationship could work, she's not going to give it another shot.  Still, he "fell in love" and he "wanted to say it was you."

The chorus just makes this feeling more explicit, because he says that if she believe him, believed the story he told in "Savannah" and what he's saying now, their life together would still be completely awesome, but she'd "have to disbelieve [herself]" because she, clearly, believes the opposite to him.

In the verses, Thiessen mentions that there are things he wants to pin on his ex, like chills and cracked sculptures and sudden winds.  He explains the reason for this at the end of the third verse, when he "begin[s]" with her swearing she "had her hand in this too."  I take this to mean she had promised to do her part in the relationship, but the way Thiessen says it makes it pretty clear he thinks she's not actually doing her part by bowing out.


And in the bridge, Thiessen reveal that, while he seems to do what she will decide, he doesn't know what she's thinking.  There's also the second meaning of "what could you be thinking:"  Incredulity that she's making the choice that she is.  This, and the line after it about her knowing that he's thinking about what she's thinking, are a pause in the song, which kicks right back up when Thiessen says he can "invade [her] thoughts" even "when [she's] not with [him]," that he's sure she thinks about him often, though she probably finds it unpleasant ("parasite").  And with a sort of triumph, Thiessen declares that the decision isn't so easy for her, that she's trying to decide if she believes him.


In this way, I think that this song is also narrator-Thiessen giving her another chance to be with him, even after what she did to him.  And we'll see what happens with that tomorrow, when I finish up my review/analysis of Forget and Not Slow Down with the final tracks "This Is The End" and "(If You Want It)."


See you then.

Serengeti

I guess the first thing I should mention about "Savannah" is that it actually takes up three tracks on the album, which I had forgotten about.  Not only does the song have a tag-track at the end of it, but it has a preamble to come before it.  That's a pretty good chunk of the album there, so I guess, maybe "Savannah" is important (that was sarcasm)?

It's a calmer song than "Sahara," as I've mentioned before, but it has its moment of strong emotion.  The emotions are different, too.  Here, read the lyrics.


Oasis
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)

Savannah (repeated lots)


Savannah
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)

Savannah
I hope to be there by the morning
And see this pining all transforming
Into the arms of the Georgia sun.

Savannah
I'd love to feel the heat—the sunrise
Brushing rays across my windshield
As if one dries the streams from off my face

Yet I know you'll be there
'Cause you'll know I'll want you to be there
And we'll say hello
As you're smiling in love
And we'll sigh, so relieved
I believe because we will both know by tonight
We'll feel normal again
But until then

Savannah
Our backs supported by a hammock
We sum up perfection like a handbook
And God knows it all too well.

Savannah
We'll take a walk to find the gift shop
Who would have thought the book that you bought
Would never come off the shelf.

Yet I know you'll be there
'Cause you'll know I'll want you to be there
And we'll say hello
As I'm smiling in love
And we'll sigh, so relieved
I believe because we will both know by tonight
We'll feel normal again
But until then
Until then
Until then

Baby
I spent my life wondering
Wondering when I'd find you
I searched for all these years and now you're right here
I need you to know that
Everything makes sense when you're with me.

Savannah
Walk out into the sultry evening
Cotton breathing when the sea winds
Brush the hair down around your neck

Savannah
You hold my hand like it's the first time
And all the feelings that are hard to find
Will be just what we expect

Yet I know you'll be there
'Cause you'll know I'll want you to be there
And we'll say hello
As you're smiling in love
And we'll sigh, so relieved
I believe because we will both know by tonight
We'll feel normal again
But until then
Until then
Until then

Baby
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)

Baby
It's all that I can do to thank you
'Cause every time you wrapped those arms around me
I felt I was home 'cause
Everything made sense when you were with
Me

----

If there's a song on the album where Thiessen first forgets not to slow down, it's "Savannah," but even then the song strides forward on plucked strings (guitar and cello both).  Musically it reminds me of Candlelight in the rhythms of the music.  One of the aesthetic choices Thiessen makes in "Savannah" is to repeat the title at the head of (almost) every stanza aside from the choruses.  The one exception is the stanza that begins with "baby," which is incidentally reprised in the same-titled afterthought.  This repetition adds to the effect of pushing the music forward.

When this song begins, narrator-Thiessen seems to be going to meet his lover.  This is an interesting choice for subject after a song about desertion and desolation.  Thiessen's language throughout the song is lush with strong mental images (feeling the sunrise like a hand brushing tears from his face,  personifying the sun, the perfection of relaxing in a hammock, etc.) that create a sort of aura of quiet joy—the joy after a great sadness, or maybe before it.

And in the chorus Thiessen repeats that he knows his love will meet him, and that things will be well, will be better again.  Yet the chorus ends with "until then," and you can tell in the tone of Thiessen's voice and in the way the silence of the song plays out that "then" is never going to come.

In the second verse, lines like "God knows it all too well" and "who would have thought the book that you bought would never come off the shelf" remind us that something has ended between Thiessen and the one he's singing to.  And still he insists that she will be there.

And then in the stanza begun by "baby" (but still in "Savannah") Thiessen makes it sound as if he's found the One, and that they're meant to be together, will be together.  Even in the end, he says that "the feelings that are hard to find will be just what we expect."

So what does all of this mean?  Well, let's look at "Baby," the tag-song to "Savannah."  When this track starts, its with heavily distorted guitars, as opposed to the plucking cello of its parent song.  Thiessen's voice is also filtered, and there's dripping sarcasm in his voice when he says, "It's all that I can do to thank you."  Then, the distortion suddenly cuts away as he tells her, "Everything made sense when you were with me."  You can hear the sadness of heartbreak in his voice for that line.  "Baby" is a mockery of "Savannah," present because it's more honest than the pipe dream Thiessen presents in "Savannah."  And though it mocks the sentiments in "Savannah," "Baby" is in some ways more honest, especially in that final moment, which reveals why Thiessen would choose to sing Savannah.

I'd like to think that this set of three tracks is a sort of microcosm for the whole album.  The pre-track foreshadows what is coming ahead (as "Forget and Not Slow Down" and "I don't Need a Soul" do) literally, by repeating the title in almost whispered tones.  The song itself is beautiful, but not entirely honest, though we catch glimpses of the truth inside.  Then, as the set of three ends, more of Thiessen's bitterness and pain comes through, only to end with a profound sweetness and sadness.

What follows tomorrow is "If You Believe Me," a more energetic reflection on Thiessen's relationship, containing the sort of honesty that wasn't quite there before.  But we'll talk about that tomorrow, when the time comes.  For now, you should listen through the album so far.

Seriously, what other reason is there for me to do this big hairy analysis thing but to get people to listen to Forget and Not Slow Down a lot?

None.  There is no other reason.

Mohave

Things are gonna go a little differently today.  I think, for the sake of it, I'm still gonna post the lyrics to "Sahara" in this blog post, but I'm also linking to the post back in May where I first talked about the song at length.  It's right there, in that link that's all bolded and hopefully colored, so click on it to read what I've already said about Sahara.  Again, my plan is to repeat myself as little as possible.

Somewhat tangentially, I've been listening to the corresponding song on repeat for the last several days while blogging about them.  Which means that today I get to listen to "Sahara" over and over and over again.  Excellence.

Read the lyrics.  Catch you on the tail end.

Sahara
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)

Lying on my side knowing of thirst is how I'll die
Chalk on my tongue
Relying on the night
Beneath the dunes is where I lie to block the sun

Trying to ignite
Some sort of passion from inside to overcome
This feeling of desertion
Can't be worse than never having anyone

So I'll ask one thing
Just one thing
Of you
Don't ever turn me loose
Even when I turn my back

A lion on his side was it the lying
Or his pride which brought him down?
Once the king of beasts but
Now they feast on the thoughts beneath his vacant crown.

Trying to decide was it the lying
Or the pride which brought it down.
To be alone
To be dethroned
Believe me I know all about it now

So I'll ask one thing
Just one thing
Of you
Don't ever turn me loose
Even when I turn my back

I never told you then that I'd be easy to love
Supposedly I'm a man but I felt like a cub
I wandered into the plains further and farther away
Not ever knowing that I'd never come back the same

As my organs gave way I swear I felt something burst;
It's been thirteen days and now I'm dying of thirst
As for the birds of prey I pray that
Someone else will get here first

I am not alone
I'll be all right
Just take these bones
And breath them back to life

So I'll ask one thing
Just one thing
Of you
Don't ever turn me loose
So I'll ask one thing
Just one thing
Of you
Don't ever turn me loose (so I'll ask)
Don't ever turn me loose (one thing)
Don't ever turn me loose (one thing)
Even when I turn my back.


----


Right away we have that tone shift I mentioned a post or so ago.  "Over It" is pretty darn chill, and then all the sudden Thiessen's gonna die of thirst, and it sounds like he's actually pretty ticked about it, you know?  There's no song on the album that's as raw-voiced as "Sahara" is, that has so much bite and emotion colored on the rage end of the spectrum.  Part of this is the back-up voices behind him.  All the other voices in this song bring the energy too, and then there's the scoops.  Much of the chorus has subtly sliding notes with a dissonant effect.  This song ain't no pretty love ballad.  There's also the riffing guitars and pounding drums to contend with.  I've mentioned a few times how chill Thiessen has been till now.


Yeah, that doesn't apply to "Sahara."


You'll notice that even in this explosion of raw emotion Thiessen never directs ire at anyone in particular.  The subject of conversation here is the sense of dying alone in the desert, and a powerfully human defiance of this sense.  The first verse speaks of his knowledge of the coming end and the shelter he seeks from the sun, then it goes on to say that now he's "trying to ignite some sort of passion from inside to overcome this feeling of desertion."  This is a radical shift from the forgetting he seems to have been going for until now, and I say its an admission that while "time can let the mind forget" there's still the emotions to be dealt with, and all the bravado in the world can't hide how much a broken heart hurts.


This is a song about a man in pain, and it doesn't pull any punches.


Forget and Not Slow Down needed this song, or I don't think Thiessen would have written it.  Without "Sahara," I'm not sure the listener would realize what all the other songs were for.  And it's only now, more than halfway through the album, that Thiessen drops this bomb on us.  "Yeah guys, it hurts like hell.  More specifically, it hurts like I'm dying of exposure in the Sahara desert."  That's not literal quotes, but you get the idea.


Even so, Thiessen doesn't wallow.  There's work to be done, even when you're drying up in a blasted wasteland.  That's why he says "this feeling of desertion" he's fighting "can't be worse than never having anyone."  He still believes love is worth it, despite how it feels right now.  I have to point out, like I did the last time I talked about Sahara, that I love how he communicates his fight with "this feeling of desertion" and asserts his belief that it doesn't ruin the benefits of love without separating the clauses.  I should also talk about the other possible meaning of "never having anyone" as not necessarily referring just to romantic relationships (as it does idiomatically) but also to the idea of spending life utterly alone, as opposed to having loved ones and losing them.  Even now Thiessen's saying "things could still be worse."


And in the chorus, Thiessen makes an apology to God.  He asks God not to "turn [him] loose," even when he admittedly sometimes "turn[s] his back."  Thiessen knows himself well enough to know that he's not just a victim of desertion.  He does it to God himself.  So this song is layered again, as Thiessen knows firsthand now how desertion feels and so asks for forgiveness from the One he turns his back on.


The second verse, as I discuss briefly in my other post about "Sahara," introduces the metaphor of Thiessen as a lion.  This metaphor is important for a couple reason.  One, lions are close to the Sahara (geographically located on the same continent) and live on the Savannah, which is incidentally the title of the next song on the album.  And another, the metaphor comes back again explicitly in the end game.  We'll talk more about it there, but I wanted to point that out again so you have some foreshadowing (or maybe forewarning's a better word).  Again, I talked in my previous post about how Thiessen distances himself a bit from his "lying" and "pride" by placing them in the lion metaphor.  Incidentally, Thiessen also creates another metaphor for himself and his life, which turns the lion metaphor into a Narnian allusion, because he gives the lion a crown and a throne.  This does make it kind of sound like Thiessen is giving himself delusions of godhood, which is a sort of issue I've wrestled with on this album for a while.


But I think I get it now, in light of the chorus of "Sahara."  Now, Thiessen isn't saying that the Lion of Judah had lying or pride to bring Him down, but he is acknowledging both the imago dei and the desertion and desolation Christ suffered for our sins.  Thiessen sees this a little more clearly than he had before this break-up which has discombobulated him, as he says "to be alone, to be dethroned believe me I know all about it now."  


I've always taken the bridge's opening line "I never told you then that I'd be easy to love" as meant for Thiessen's ex, but the line also reminds me of one of his earlier songs, "Getting Into You," at one point in which Thiessen asks God if He knows what He's getting Himself into.  Funny that I thought of that, because of the many parallels I could find between the chill "Over It" and more angry prior songs like "Which to Bury," and this frenetic song has a parallel in a gentle song of worship.  


Thiessen extends his lion metaphor when he says he's supposed to have been a man but he felt like, not a child, but a cub.  He then admits that he wandered astray and that the journey changed him irrevocably.  He's dying, he's desolate, the scavengers are coming, but the bridge ends of a note of redemption.


"I am not alone," Thiessen says.  He's not the only one who's desolate.  He's not even abandoned in this desert like he feels like.  The Listener is there, and the line "to be alone, to be dethroned, believe me I know all about it" could easily have come from His lips.  Thiessen acknowledges this, and with this knowledge he knows he'll "be all right" so long as God "take[s] these bones and breathe[s] them back to life."


So he'll ask one thing of You.  Don't turn him loose, even when he turns his back.


Don't let me go, Daddy please don't let me go.  I'm sorry, don't let me go.


I think it's the child's pleading buried within the anguished rasping of a deserted man that make this song for me.  Or any number of things.  But that?  Oh man.

I don't think there's really anything else I can say about that right now.


I think Thiessen wasn't really honest about the content of his "therapy."  I think this song makes those car trips a little clearer to us.  I think it's also good that Thiessen's told us he's "over it" already.  We may be tempted not to believe him, but we know now that he's facing it down head on without slowing, just like he's been saying he wants to do all along.


"Savannah" is a bit slower paced compared to this one, and I've always viewed it as a breather to come down off the intensity of "Sahara."  We'll talk about that and it's "afterthought" "Baby" tomorrow, and after that there will be two more posts for Forget and Not Slow Down.  


I'm... not gonna think about that right now.


Catch ya later, folks.