Living With War is just fucking incredible. Beuatiful, joyus and angry. This is moving, moving stuff. Listen: www.neilyoung.com I'm actually a little teary right now, but in a good way. There is hope.
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Here, are the lyrics to Neil Young’s "Let’s Impeach the President" from his new album Living With War : Let’s impeach the president for lying And leading our country into war Abusing all the power that we gave him And shipping all our money out the door He’s the man who hired all the criminals The White House shadows who hide behind closed doors And bend the facts to fit with their new stories Of why we have to send our men to war Let’s impeach the president for spying On citizens inside their own homes Breaking every law in the country By tapping our computers and telephones What if Al Qaeda blew up the levees Would New Orleans have been safer that way Sheltered by our government’s protection Or was someone just not home that day? Let’s impeach the president For hijacking our religion and using it to get elected Dividing our country into colors And still leaving black people neglected Thank god he’s cracking down on steroids Since he sold his old baseball team There’s lot of...
Saturday night, I took my dusty copy of Flaubert's Madame Bovary and rode the trains to the far north of Chicago, alone, to see the Handsome Family. There's something fitting in that - it's been so long since I've done something alone, and their music is so echoey and lonely and aching, that it added to the mood. I felt far from lonely, especially since I had a nice conversation with both members of the Handsome Family (about the story I sent them) and commingled with the fans (many of whom are loners like me) and talked with Patricia most of the way home. Tomorrow, it'll be six months with Patricia. I'm getting really tired of not being with her, but I'll see her Friday morning, and we'll make Seattle ours. The new Neil Young movie is opening there and we'll probably see that, and eat in several of the hundred or so vegetarian restaurants, and just wander around in the rain. Have I mentioned that she's awesome? Currently listening to the Ha...
I am quite convinced that The Handsome Family may well be the best band in the world. And , I am going to see them on Saturday (at the Old Town School of Folk Music)... and , I just finished a story inspired by one of their songs, and I asked Rennie Sparks (of said Handsome Family) if she wanted to read it - and she said yes. So I shipped all 19,000 words of it to her. There's something draining in writing like I did on that story ("Don't Be Scared'). I wrote in ferocious bursts, and got deep down where the characters breathed and I could smell their skin. Sometimes writing is just like that, a Roman Candle, a spangling, glittery detonation, that leaves one spent, conscious of a peripheral darkness (increased awareness perhaps?). I'm almost done with Kon Tiki and can't believe how good that is. This world is such an achingly gorgeous place, though we shit all over it. She's indomitable, though. She'll be here long after all us humans blow each o...
I just started a book called Kon Tiki that Jeremy bought me more than a year ago for Christmas. I can't wait to raft along with Thor Heyerdalh and his men, across the wide, windy sweep of the Pacific. I've mentioned that one of the things I love most about winter is that it allows an expansion of thought, departures to the great other. Spring, Fall, and Summer are jealous seasons; they make you feel guilty for taking a nap, or for dreaming of other places, because they are so comfortable, so inviting, so accessibly beautiful. Winter...She is as beautiful as any season, but part of her beauty lies in her humility. Is there anything better than watching a snowfall, sipping tea, and dreaming of pluvial steam, and harbour cities? Winter is beautiful through juxtaposition, through afterimages, through longing. I've turned inward - but not in a bad way. I love the quiet house after school. I've had to cut down my time with friends (and I'm sorry - there's nothing at a...
Here's a picture of me from February of 2001 (playing a song at Becky and George's wedding)...interesting how time seems to circle back on itself. :) Tonight I'm going to start work on another story - I love when ideas come my way rapid-fire; this one came to me on a long hike at the Dunes State Park (though the air was chilly, the sky looked tropical and my mind moved accordingly). And now, for something completely different: the War on Iraq has cost American taxpayers (estimates vary) between two and three hundred billion dollars. Imagine what could have been done with that money. As I was riding my bike the other night, I had a vision of covered, heated, lighted bike paths. Sure, they'd be expensive, but think of how cool they would be! We could ride anywhere at any time - and I think you could cover, heat, and light every bike trail in America (and police them) for less than it's cost us to invade Iraq. Too bad all the money is in oil. I still ride everywhere m...
Lit lamps at teatime. I think there will be a thunderstorm later in the afternoon. See how the clouds build to the west? I think there will be a storm. I awoke to snow and felt instantly happy - last winter was so awful, I just wanted it to die quickly and get warm and stormy, but now, I am ready for it. I love the way the days turn blue at twilight and the way I long for warmth when I'm out walking in the night. I love Chicago at Christmastime, when it's lit and windy (the light hovers). I'll be spending Christmas in San Francisco, where it'll be warm(er) and rainy, but I'm sure it will glow with lights as well. (I am looking forward to this trip SO much.) Winter also spurs my imagination - I always seem to write more eloquently of Spring when it's on the far side of the world. Africa looms. The night stars glint like mica in a riverbed. In the space between sleeping and waking, I hear the first echoless roll of thunder and know that soon the rains will come, a...
Way over yonder in the minor key - It's raining on my windows, and I am drinking coffee (remnants of my lunch break). Just thought I'd say hello to the online community (Hey yerself, Colleen!) and gather my far-flung thoughts together. Patricia came to visit earlier this month, and she got to meet many of my jackass friends. We stayed in the Allegro in Chicago again, and went to Navy Pier, and ate in a few nice restaurants, and just hung out with everyone. She got to see a thunderstorm (very cool). There was a great vibe to things. Jeremy and Meredith and Zack came all the way up from Purdue to meet us for lunch in the city, and Adam and Herbie got a room at the hotel and stayed the night, and Chris and Amy rode the train (something they've never been wild about). I have the greatest friends. Patricia was struck with how truly genuine and happy everyone was. And then we came home to Millsville - walked around Wicker Park and hung out with my family, etc... What a great week...
(I actually wrote this Monday, but my computer was being a jerk.) My heart has begun to long for Madagascar again. Yesterday, on a long walk through the new-blazing trees, I caught the leeward edge of a fantastic image…I was wearing my Blu Blockers (which make everything look somehow both old and profound) and gazing up through sunshafts to huge towering thunderclouds, marveling at how such a hot-weather sky could roof such a cool and breezy afternoon. I sat and looked out over a line of distant oaks and maples and hickories to the bulging domes and turrets…and began to think of vast, dry expanses (the road through the Horombe) and the thrill of sunsplashed villas on the sea, and of gazing upward to unimpeded sprays of stars, and candlelit cafes in the City of Beauty, and excited nights in hot, clanking airports. I began to think of my gestating novel, The Lamplighter , and I knew how I would finish it. I listened to the music of Gamana on the way home, feeling as though I could burst ...
On the cusp of morning, I dreamt of the lowforests. Friday. Tired. Tonight I shall sleep for a long, long time. Last night, I rode my bike to the train station in East Chicago, took the train to the city, walked around downtown, ate at Elephant and Castle, saw the Art Institute and the changing trees of Millenium Park, took the train back to my bike, rode home, talked to Patricia until one, slept, woke up tired. I've been riding everywhere, at all hours - it's become a compulsion. I saw Jeff and Erich and Adam this weekend - 'twas cool to hang out with the Purdue nerds again - and they got to at least talk with Patricia. Then on Sunday, I accompanied Jeremy and Meredith and Zack to their awesome hotel room by O'Hare and then to the Chicago Diner. Chicago has assumed an odd importance to me lately - I love it in the fall. The wind keeps blowing me back there. This week, I've been riding and writing and reading and all of that crap. I've been somewhat exha...
Light rises high over darkened hills/ Ghosts of summer flit and flicker still. Just a quick update. I have to ride home, eat, and then ride back to school to judge the homecoming parade. I had a fantastic weekend with Patricia. We stayed in a four star hotel (the Allegro) in the heart of the Loop Friday night, and walked around Michigan Ave. in the wee hour hush of Saturday morning. The next day we slept very late and lingered about the city, for she hadn't been there since she was four. We ate brunch in a British bar and grille and then made our way into the mysterious north, listening to radiohead and the fantastic new Neil Young album (amongst other things). Patricia loves Neil Young, laughed a lot at the Sol Rosenberg Jerky Boys skits, wants to go backpacking, is gorgeous, loves cats, and is a nerd. She is definately the girl for me. We spent the next two days at Governor Dodge State Park in western Wisconsin, where the panoramas were autumnal even if the weather was not. It wa...
We're not living in our heads, but on the shore of muddy rivers. Let's see if I can, for the moment, get out of my head and write something. It's been a day of creative introversion, but it's not been bad at all. I'm just a bit tired. I went to Farm Aid yesterday with Chris and Herbie and had an all around marvelous time. I went to hear Wilco and Neil Young, both of whom played gorgeous yet tragically short sets, but actually enjoyed everyone (though Kenny Chesney, whom the bulk of the crowd seemed to adore, went on for a VERY long time). We laughed a lot. It was one of the nicest concerts I've been to, in fact. There was a good, positive energy about things. Just got home too late. Let's see...Saturday, I awoke to fantastic news. Patricia called to tell me she's coming out next week. I had mentioned my last post to her and told her I wished we could go camping when the autumn was at its peak, and she got the weekend off and bought tickets. So...
I'm immersed in such a desperate, melancholic beauty right now. The sky is cloudy and profound, so lovely and sad that it makes my heart ache. I'm listening to the soundtrack from The Village , looking ahead to the dawning of autumn, the season of light, a time of camping and gloaming hikes, of Glo Balls and cabins, of profundity, of magic so great it can't really be pinpointed, only felt. I miss Patricia. I want to share the autumn with her. We had such a magical weekend together - I've never felt such a deep connection. We listened to Brazzaville and looked out her window at glowing Mason Street, at the shimmering bay, at the broad hulk of Alcatraz, and held each other in twilight, and awoke in the wee hours and embraced, and ate chocolate cake for breakfast and walked through the city at dusk and lay for hours just talking and laughing. We marvelled at how right everything felt, how everything could feel both so relaxing and so exciting - it really seemed we ha...
Passed out in an asteroid field... I'm sitting here, in my sweltering classroom, listening to Hastings Street by Brazzaville, perhaps the most beautiful album I have ever heard. My, has it been an intense time! I have been riding every day. I hate the idea of funding the oil companies, the greedy fucks - 4th quarter profits of 35 billion dollars for Exxon-Mobile alone and they raise gas prices in a time of crisis. To me, it's a bloody industry, on par with pornography. I'm trying to support it as little as possible and have not bought gas in two weeks. Last night, I rode in the darkness to the Laundromat in Griffith and did a load of clothes. Take that OPEC! I think I need to buy some padded weiner shorts, though, for my ass is singing a sad little tune today. Let's see...teaching's going well, very well. I have the nicest students and have already established a great rapport. I feel like a burnt torch at the end of the day (such energy) but it's been fun. I a...