Why Syndney! How Grown!

Why Syndney! How Grown!

Rush into smoke and
where are the feet and growing?
The body’s contained at the shoulders—
they turn like they do.
Little child sparking at the mouth.
No one noticing, all his guts
spitting flash things out.

Here is brown spot. London
burning up: prop a ladder at.
I’m very wondering. What.
That is one point.
I call it spirit.
Your mouth-spittle, good drip.

There are long waits and songs. Don’t
use French. It is called alarm.
We been chased— this spit at the moat
and we put formats on. Fat is
if we put on chansons, sounds—
I cannot deny good wonder.
O could I say a word against!
Not on it with what it was.
Soot; soot and pitch.
What part of you would wish to grow that way?
You groom you such good wish gone south.

Found in the Rain

I went walking yesterday with a friend I hadn't seen in years and we encountered a box. There was rain in it and books.

I opened to this page:

"I know why
your belly's soft,
because so many men
have pressed against it
and into it. [. . .]

I shove my life
. . . . . . . . . deep into yours
until the melting
and the melding
brings us both so close
that cross or crowbar
will remain unable
to divide us."

from and to each season . . . , Rod McKuen

Horror is all around us, waiting to be opened up and exposed to the air.

Memorial for a Piece of Graffiti Painted Over, #2.

Blue Velvet, acryllic.

Another World

The not-so-new Antony track and title of his new EP is a fantastic expression of fiction. The song comes across as a quiet, but seriously powerful spell, an incantation brought into being through the repetition of phrasing, verbal and musical and the listing of objects. The song starts gently and calmly, the fingers on the piano are sure and confident. We hear almost immediately beneath and behind the clear chords the sound of a whining feedback which runs alongside and counter to the beauty of the struck notes, an alien thing beneath the human made. He sings: "I need another place" and once the speaker decides to speak, to sing, there is no way away from his words and what they unleash. The speaker must carry it through to the end. The need for this new place (hopefully peaceful) has transformed his world and he cannot go back. The need for this safety overrides regret. He lists all the things he loved (the sea, the snow, the animals, the bees, the birds, the wind) and in naming them gives life to them briefly one more time. The words fall away and the little creatures fade. He seemingly moves forward, and again that whistling, whining wind, (the [absent] lover he was kissing "so long") rises up and sweeps his previous position away, leaving only the vanishing world and the wind and the silence all around it. I think about The Nothing in the Neverending Story. The Infinite Sadness. The song never falters. Step by step, chord by chord it advances through the fear and into something completely new and hopefully better.

As a counterpoint: "Asleep," by the Smiths and lovingly covered by Xiu Xiu. "There is another world / There is a better world / Well, there must be" The desire stated in this song is for vanishing of the self, for something more than and beyond sleep, more than waking up alone, again, day after day. The idea that the speaker is incomplete never being allowed gladness and joy and how much that makes one a faliure. The quietness of failure and what terrible solitude there is in not being able to escape failure.

A to B

I try to keep personal effects or mopings off the blog-- it just seems like airing dirty laundry. Maybe this isn't true that I do this, but I like to think that I do, that these trivialities are not interesting to anyone except myself. But this is not triviality.

I may or may not have lost one 14th of my music library through an annoying iTunes guerilla attack. Specifically all music from A-B. That includes but is not limited to: All Antony, Bjork, Built to Spill, Beyoncé, Bahamadia, Art Brut, Bonde do Role, ABBA, Aretha Franklin, Anna Oxygen, Bronksi Beat. Also, any and all collaborations between Bjork and Antony. It may or not have been through my own dull headedness, but I think not.

Watch for me in a black armband, and with ashes in my hair in addition to the already scarred forehead. I feel numb. I need (myth of) closure.

The World Sent Me 3 Things to Make Me Feel At Ease. (Don't Let Me Die At All.)

There must be something ordering these things this way.

Hi, Joachim

I am writing to you this letter to say that I want very much to meet
you in real life and to get acquinted with you.
But it is impossible at present day that is why let's start from romantic
letters to each other.
I do this first step because i don't want to miss a chance to loose
acquintance with such man like you.
Tell me, please, what is this life without love? it is dull, unbearable and
useless. You live, but you don't know why; you work, but don't know the
sense of it; you come at home, but you don't feel comfort and cold bed
makes you feel disgust... do you have the same unpleasant feelings and
need love in your life as I need?
The whole life is wating for me and you in future. But it is died if you are
alone and you can't share a new day with beloved person. Do you agree
with me?
If I don't give love, if I can't share passion and romantic feelings with
beloved, I feel that I am dying every moment, every hour, every day.

Don't let me die at all, write me, please, and just say 'hello, a stranger
beauty from Ukraine! yes, i want to get acquinted with you too!" and after
it, let me do the next step and you will see that I will change your life
and wave you in the cradle of my love.
I close this letter now, but i am waiting for your reply, Dear Stranger whom
I liked and I hope that you will like me too

Kisses
July P

I can't be the only one finding these clues to joy and hope and wonder . . .right? right?

Three Objects

I saw you (and Him) walking in the Rain. You were holding hands and I will never be the same.