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.

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.

Risen Above

Over It
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)

I'll admit to who I am
The day I come to understand
I haven't got a clue
Been searching for a few years now

If I don't repeat myself
Then I'll change into someone else
Well I don't quite know who
Been searching for a few years

Now I'm over it
Yeah behind me now I'm just over it
Over it
Yeah I'm finding out I'm just over it
No I don't know what's over just yet
But I won't go slow
And time can let the mind forget
Don't tell me you don't know
Already

I'll protect your universe
Or make a mess to make it worse
Well time will only tell
You and no one else so

I'm over it
Yeah behind me now I'm just over it
Over it
Yeah I'm finding out I'm just over it
No I don't know what's over just yet
But I won't go slow
And time can let the mind forget
Don't tell me you don't know
Already
Don't tell me you let go
Oh

You say you made up your mind and you finally decided
But those that helped you choose
Haven't the slightest clue as to
The magnitude of what you're about to lose

I'm guarded and therefore I can endure
A little bit more
Just a little more
Than some people would
If I'm not misunderstood
It's still an attempt to be egoless while self-assured
If I'm still unsure that I'm pretty sure
That I am pretty good
Oh God you know I'm good and

Over it
Yeah behind me now I'm just over it
Over it
Yeah I'm finding out I'm just over it
No I don't know what's over just yet
But I won't go slow
And time can let the mind forget
Don't tell me you don't know
Already
Don't tell me you let go
Already
Don't tell me you don't know
(Already)
Don't tell me you don't know
(Don't tell me you don't know)

(the sound of a door opening and closing)

----

In case you never listened to a single Relient K song before you started reading my analysis of Forget and Not Slow Down, there's a strong theme of self-discovery in Thiessen's songwriting.  Even the very first Relient K album had songs like "Balloon Ride," in which Thiessen metaphorically takes a ride in a balloon from which "everything seems clear."  His search for new/fresh perspectives, which coincides with his walk with the Lord, has been present from the very first, and he's telling us at the start of "Over It" that he's still not done learning new things about himself.  I commiserate with this, because all my life I've been making observations about my own behavior in an attempt to understand myself, and to guide my own behavior towards something a bit more conscionable.


This explanation is further complicated, because as Thiessen reveals people change or they stagnate.  It's why he's still searching for who he is—and incidentally who he'll become—and the need not to stagnate is why he continues to change.  The line from "Therapy" about having a death grip on transitioning life should be read with this concept in mind.


But now, Thiessen says, he's over it.  He's over searching for himself?  Maybe, but as the chorus develops he admits he doesn't really "know what's over."  Not yet at least.  Either way, he's determined not to slow down, and retreads the idea that maybe he can ignore the problem and let time heal all wounds by making him forget.  This seems to contradict the therapy he was getting in the previous song.  Maybe this is a bit of arrogance coming through, or maybe it's a resurgence of the sort of apathy Thiessen sang about in his song "Apathetic Way to Be," which is more about not making a big deal about things he can't change to much.  Either way, he seems to think he's over it.  


Then there's what may well be the central line of the song, "Don't tell me you don't know already."  Don't know what?  Well, I think that's the main point.  This could be a prod at the audience to pay attention, or a lament that his ex-love is forgetting him quickly.  It's also interestingly placed right after the line about time letting the mind forget.  But have you forgotten already?  The way Thiessen sings this line, with melancholy and disappointment, makes it necessary to tie at least part of the meaning to that line about forgetting.  There's evidence here, then, that Thiessen is conflicted about this idea of just forgetting.  He doesn't want it forgotten just yet, like it never happened at all.  This is important, because it explains some of the connection between "Over It" and "Sahara."  As chill as this song is musically, I think the emotional core of it is a little more turbulent than narrator-Thiessen wants to let on.


Thiessen dwells a bit on his own part in the break-up in the second verse, admitting that while he could "protect [her] universe" he could also "make a mess to make it worse."  But apparently only she can know, so Thiessen lets it go and gets "over it."


There's a line added to the chorus that follows after the verse, with Thiessen pleading not to be told "you['ve]" let go.  Later, "already" is added to this line too.  This line can probably be read as meant for the lady, but it's of note because it has the same inner conflict that its companion line has.  


The bridge is reminiscent of an earlier Relient K song called "Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet?" which I've mentioned before.  There's a strong parallel between the lines about the subject making up her mind and having others help her "choose" who don't really understand, and the lines in "Which to Bury" that go "Make your decision and don't think twice/go with your instincts along with some bad advice."  I'll point out again how much differently Thiessen seems to be handling his emotions now as opposed to then.  


I've just noticed a stronger parallel, right about as old as the theme of self-searching.  You see, in the premier Relient K album there's a song called "Marilyn Manson Ate My Girlfriend," in which Thiessen's ex is lured away by an outside voice who Thiessen views as deceptive.  In Anatomy of the Tongue in Cheek there's a song, "What Have You Been Doing Lately," about friends slipping away from the narrow road.  Yet, Thiessen's distress has been tempered by experience, so that by now, in "Over It," he sounds completely level-headed when he says she's losing out on something huge because she listened to someone else.  There's a foreshadowing here towards the penultimate song on the album (counting the last two tracks as one song), "If You Believe Me," as well as a harking back to "Therapy," where God's the only one still listening to Thiessen.  It might have something to do with Thiessen's sardonic streak, which he anguishes over, especially in songs like "Bite My Tongue" from Five Score and Seven Years Ago and a little in "Curl Up and Die" from the Nashville Tennis EP.  


It's this sort of interconnectedness to Thiessen's music that fascinates me, especially since that aspect ramped up so much in Forget and Not Slow Down.  It's ironic to have all these allusions that require the listener to pay attention and remember what's gone before in an album named after trying to forget.


Maybe, just maybe, the sort of forgetting Thiessen's getting at is not the kind you usually think of when you think about forgetting.  Don't tell me you hadn't picked up on that, yet.  "Don't tell me you don't know already."


Wow, I've talked a lot, but there's still more to talk about.  We've got the next section, and the very end.  Just bear with me guys.


Thiessen tells us he keeps his guard up pretty much always, which is why he seems pretty chill about things, but he tries to keep this from sounding like bragging by minimizing it ("just a little bit more") and by pointing out that he's trying "to be egoless while self-assured."  Even so, he's not so sure of himself, but he thinks he's good, or at least he's "over it."


And with all the points he's been making and everything I've been pointing out, I'm pretty sure if you want to say "What, exactly, is he over?" that Thiessen would respond with a resounding, "Yeah."


The song ends with Thiessen echoing his incredulous, "Don't tell me you don't know" until the music fades, and we hear a door open and close as if someone is leaving (or coming in).  I have to admit that until today I thought the entry/exit sound came at the very start of "Sahara" and not at the end of "Over It."  Either way, the sound is a significant transition between the two.  It sounds to me like desolation, which is what Thiessen is trying to hide in today's song and what he admits to in spectacular fashion in the next.  It also reminds me of another significant Relient K song on a different album:  "Deathbed," a song-story about a man dying of lung cancer, which begins with the sound of someone opening a door and sitting down.  That particular sound image is interesting in retrospect because the narrator of "Deathbed" insists he is dying alone, but that sound suggests otherwise.

I hark back now once again to "Therapy," and God as the Listener.

With that thought, get ready for tomorrow.  I'm going to try to have even more interesting things to say about "Sahara" tomorrow than I did the first time, if I can help it.  For now, though, have a blessed day.

Ciao.

We Interrupt This Regularly Scheduled Blah Blah Blah

Before I can talk about "Over It" today there's a couple things I wanted to talk about
I just watched a brief R (or maybe X) rated art film starring Shia Labeouf.  It was about humanity on drugs, about things that make us tick and the great pain we cause ourselves.  It's definitely an adult work, and it's not for the faint of heart.  Also, it's heartbreaking.  In my mind it also cements Mr. Labeouf as a splendid actor who's been relegated to stupid roles for the better part of ten years.  If you're a full-blown adult and won't be totally put off by some nudity and sensual content (presented not as candy to the viewer, but starkly), I do recommend you find the piece and view it.  If you're not an adult, or if nudity, drug metaphors, and violence are too much for you to handle, let it be.

On a happier note, I just stumbled on a new Missy Higgins album and am rediscovering my love for her music at the moment.  That means I'm a little distracted from my Relient K-based bloggery but I'll be getting to "Over It" in due time today.

It's funny, because I started up my computer today intending to jump right into Talas Ke and get some work done on that.  I'm not ashamed of what the internet presented to me instead, but I think it's a question of self-control that bifurcates my consumptive and productive habits.  Ah, well.

"Ah, sirs.  Is there none other grace with you?  Then keep yourself."  That, too, is funny, in the same way, because the littlest things can remind me of the strangest others.  That line is stated by Launcelot in T.H. White's The Once and Future King, before he battles his way out of the Queen's bedchambers.  The line is totally badaxe.  It's also distressing, because of the whole complicated, depressing thing with the King, Queen, and Knight in the Arthurian legend.  In a lot of ways, I based a character (named Lenn) from the manuscript I wrote in my last semester of college on the sort of tragic knot that holds Launcelot together in The Once and Future King.  Lenn's tragic knot is much different than Lance's, but not so far to be unfamiliar.  To be honest, White's great retelling influenced a lot in the novel I'm calling "The Faeries' Game," but I won't get too far into it.  Depending on how things go in the next few months, you might be hearing more about that book.

So I'm actually gonna do two blog posts today.  This is the end of the first one.  Catch ya later today!

Convalescence

I'll just sort of...
put this...

Therapy
(lyrics by Matthew Thiessen)

I never thought I'd be
Driving through the country just to drive
With only music and the clothes that I woke up in
I never thought I'd need
All this time alone it goes to show
I had so much, yet I had need for nothing but you
But you

This is just therapy
Let's call it what it is
With a death grip on this life always transitioning
This is just therapy
'Cause you won't take my calls
And that makes God the only one who's left here listening
To me

I'm letting it all sink in
It's good to feel the sting now and again
Hope is one less woeful thing there is to fight through
Getting it I'll begin
Fresh paper and a nice expensive pen
The past cannot subtract a thing from what I might do for you
Unless that's what I let it do

This is just therapy
Let's call it what it is (not what we were)
With a death grip on this life always transitioning
This is just therapy
'Cause you won't take my calls
And that makes God the only one who's left here listening...

Loneliness and solitude are two things not to get confused
because I spend my solitude with You.
I gather all the questions of the things I just can't get straight
And I answer them the way I guess You do.

'Cause this is my therapy
'Cause You're the only one
Who's listening to me

This is my therapy
Let's call it what it is
Not what we were
With a death grip on
This life that's in transition
This is my therapy
'Cause you won't hear me out
And that makes God the only one who's left here listening

This is my therapy
Let's call it what it is (not what we were)
With a death grip on this life always transitioning
This is my therapy
'Cause you won't take my calls
And that makes God the only one who's left here listening
To me


----


If I said that "Part of It" had Thiessen opening up about his feelings, then that goes at least as much as "Therapy."  This song is the most open yet about his emotional state (he needs "therapy") and his walk with the Lord.  Probably my favorite line in this song is the one about loneliness and solitude.


I will be quick to point out the return of the travel motif.  Driving "just to drive," as it were.  I also want to preliminarily mention the irony of the final line in the chorus, "That makes God the only one who's left here listening to me."  Considering he's singing this song to an audience of thousands.  This line, if anything, strengthens my argument that this album is a prayer, albeit one that Thiessen shares with his listeners through an album published by the band he fronts.  And in my mind that makes this album a testimony.  Better, a testimony that avoids heavy-handedness and drips with honesty.


The first verse reveals to us that, at least in the semantic space of this song, Thiessen never expected to be spending his time driving for the sake of it, or to be isolating himself.  It seems to me that the further we get in the album, up to a point, the closer Thiessen's voice (poetically speaking) gets to the event that sparked the work.  My other comment about this verse is the wordplay of ambiguous meaning for the pronoun "you."  He could have needed nothing but her, or he could need nothing but Him, and probably he's referring to both.


The chorus is certainly an interesting beast.  Like most good choruses I encounter, it doesn't stay rigid throughout the song.  For example, the behavior Thiessen refers to in the first verse shifts from "just" therapy to "my" therapy.  He owns it as time moves forward, and he admits he really needs it.  This highlights the reason he's "call[ing] it what it is," because he doesn't necessarily want to need help.  Like he said at the start, he'd rather just "forget and not slow down."  The word "therapy" also implies he feels like it's helping.


There's an echo that happens in the chorus. "Not what we were."  The first instance is another singer entirely, a quiet parenthetical aside (which I have presented as such in the lyrics).  But in a slower version of the chorus, Thiessen himself sings the words.  After that, it's an echo again, but louder, and more sure of itself.  The statement itself is of interest, as it refers to "calling it what it is," the titular therapy of the song.  But in typical Thiessen wordplay fashion, the meaning of calling it what it is doesn't stay exactly the same between lines.  "What we were" was a relationship aimed at marriage—a parallel strongly invoked in the Christian concepts of the Bride and the Bridegroom.  But Thiessen is clearly saying this isn't the way he's communing with his Father in this context.  It's in the context of the Great Physician.


Yet another portion of the chorus is ripe for discussion.  I think Thiessen hits the nail on the head by saying that life is "always transitioning," and I think he's right to take a death grip.  Don't mistake this for meaning Thiessen is holding on too tightly—remember forgetting and not slowing down—but rather that the death grip is just to stay alive in a world that's always changing around you.  I've had a few conversations in the last couple days about how life is always a transition from one state to another.  Right now I'm in a pretty weird place and trying to figure out how to transition to the next state—and out of the house.  If you let go in a time like this, you can lose yourself.  My grip slips sometimes, and I lose a few days or a week to the sort of apathy that reflects idiomatic sofa vegetables.  


There's not too much to say about how Thiessen's female "you" won't take his calls.  It's part of a semantic piece of the puzzle, and obviously part of why he's driving just to drive, with music and God to keep him company.  It comes to the heart of his difficulty:  she has parted from him.


The bridge, which I've already referred to, details more specifically the sort of emotional work Thiessen is doing.  Out on the road alone, he wrestles with his questions and presents them all to God, playing the sort of guesswork game that comes with the faith.  Again, it's really honest.  Thiessen's walk with God isn't a series of questions and answers, or of deals made and bargains kept.  God in "Therapy" is almost the Great Psychiatrist, listening to His son talk about his experiences, and guiding him rather than giving direct instruction.


I've said that Thiessen "seems to think the therapy is working."  I put that in quotes because by that I mean the narrative voice of Thiessen telling us this emotional story thinks, during "Therapy," that it's working.  And he seems to continue to think so, because the next song on the album is called "Over It."  Tomorrow we'll talk about how that title might be a little deceiving, and how the narrator-Thiessen may be deceiving himself at this point in the album.


As a final note, I'd like to point out that even now the music is bright and moves forward at a brisk pace, and so does the inflection in Thiessen's voice.  Yes, he's hurting, but he's still not slowing down.  I point this out because we'll see whether he sticks to this or not as we move into the last half of the album, as indeed we are doing.  "Therapy" and "Over It" form the track-number center of the album, sandwiched between "Part of It" (and "Outro") and "Sahara" on the other side.  There's a radical shift in tone coming up.

Listen to "Therapy."  In fact, I'd suggest you listen to everything up to Therapy around now, if not the whole album.  I don't really want to encourage maintaining suspense moving forward, because the album is really much better as a whole, but if you've never heard the whole thing and you want to hold out, I guess you can do that.

This was one of those days where stuff happened and visitors appeared, thus the later posting than most of these recent blogs have been.  I'll make no apologies.  Another reason for the delay was a need to chew on this song a bit.  I always feel the need to chew on it, maybe more than any of the other songs on the album.

Get some good sleep, peeps.  Ciao.