Sunday, September 14, 2003

"2112"

I. Overture
Words and Music by Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson, and Neil Peart

"And the meek shall inherit the earth."

II. The Temples of Syrinx
Words by Neil Peart, Music by Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson

... "The massive grey walls of the Temples rise from the
heart of every Federation city. I have always been awed
by them, to think that every single facet of every life is
regulated and directed from within! Our books, our music,
our work and play are all looked after by the benevolent
wisdom of the priests..."

We've taken care of everything
The words you hear the songs you sing
The pictures that give pleasure to your eyes
It's one for all and all for one
We work together common sons
Never need to wonder how or why

We are the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx
Our great computers fill the hallowed halls
We are the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx
All the gifts of life are held within our walls

Look around this world we made
Equality our stock in trade
Come and join the Brotherhood of Man
Oh what a nice contented world
Let the banners be unfurled
Hold the Red Star proudly high in hand

We are the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx
Our great computers fill the hallowed halls.
We are the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx
All the gifts of life are held within our walls.

III. Discovery
Words by Neil Peart, Music by Alex Lifeson

... "Behind my beloved waterfall, in the little room that was
hidden beneath the cave, I found it. I brushed away the
dust of the years, and picked it up, holding it reverently in
my hands. I had no idea what it might be, but it was
beautiful" ...
... "I learned to lay my fingers across the wires, and to turn
the keys to make them sound differently. As I struck the
wires with my other hand, I produced my first harmonious
sounds, and soon my own music! How different it could
be from the music of the Temples! I can't wait to tell the
priests about it! ..."

What can this strange device be?
When I touch it, it gives forth a sound
It's got wires that vibrate and give music
What can this thing be that I found?

See how it sings like a sad heart
And joyously screams out its pain
Sounds that build high like a mountain
Or notes that fall gently like rain

I can't wait to share this new wonder
The people will all see its light
Let them all make their own music
The Priests praise my name on this night

IV. Presentation
Words by Neil Peart, Music by Alex Lifeson

... "In the sudden silence as I finished playing, I looked up
to a circle of grim, expressionless faces. Father Brown
rose to his feet, and his somnolent voice echoed
throughout the silent Temple Hall." ...
... "Instead of the grateful joy that I expected, they were
words of quiet rejection! Instead of praise, sullen
dismissal. I watched in shock and horror as Father Brown
ground my precious instrument to splinters beneath his
feet..."

I know it's most unusual
To come before you so
But I've found an ancient miracle
I thought that you should know

Listen to my music
And hear what it can do
There's something here as strong as life
I know that it will reach you

Yes, we know it's nothing new
It's just a waste of time
We have no need for ancient ways
The world is doing fine

Another toy will help destroy
The elder race of man
Forget about your silly whim
It doesn't fit the plan

I can't believe you're saying
These things just can't be true
Our world could use this beauty
Just think what we might do

Listen to my music
And hear what it can do
There's something here as strong as life
I know that it will reach you

Don't annoy us further
We have our work to do
Just think about the average
What use have they for you?

Another toy will help destroy
The elder race of man
Forget about your silly whim
It doesn't fit the plan

V. Oracle: The Dream
Words by Neil Peart, Music by Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson

... "I guess it was a dream, but even now it all seems so
vivid to me. Clearly yet I see the beckoning hand of the
oracle as he stood at the summit of the staircase" ...
... "I see still the incredible beauty of the sculptured cities
and the pure spirit of man revealed in the lives and works
of this world. I was overwhelmed by both wonder and
understanding as I saw a completely different way to life,
a way that had been crushed by the Federation long ago. I
saw now how meaningless life had become with the loss
of all these things ..."

I wandered home though the silent streets
And fell into a fitful sleep
Escape to realms beyond the night
Dream can't you show me the light?

I stand atop a spiral stair
An oracle confronts me there
He leads me on light years away
Through astral nights, galactic days

I see the works of gifted hands
That grace this strange and wondrous land
I see the hand of man arise
With hungry mind and open eyes

They left the planet long ago
The elder race still learn and grow
Their power grows with purpose strong
To claim the home where they belong
Home, to tear the Temples down...
Home, to change..

VI. Soliloquy
Words by Neil Peart, Music by Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson

... "I have not left this cave for days now, it has become
my last refuge in my total despair. I have only the music of
the waterfall to comfort me now. I can no longer live
under the control of the Federation, but there is no other
place to go. My last hope is that with my death I may pass
into the world of my dream, and know peace at last."

The sleep is still in my eyes
The dream is still in my head
I heave a sigh and sadly smile
And lie a while in bed
I wish that it might come to pass
Not fade like all my dreams

Just think of what my life might be
In a world like I have seen
I don't think I can carry on
Carry on this cold and empty life
Oh...noo!

My spirits are low in the depths of despair
My lifeblood spills over..

VII. Grand Finale
Music by Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson, and Neil Peart

Attention all Planets of the Solar Federation
Attention all Planets of the Solar Federation
Attention all Planets of the Solar Federation
We have assumed control.
We have assumed control.
We have assumed control
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Saturday, September 13, 2003

Yes, I love Radiohead

two jumps in a week i bet you think that's pretty clever
don't you boy

flyin on your motorcycle
watchin all the ground beneath you
drop

you'd kill yourself for recognition
you'd kill yourself to never
ever
stop

you broke another mirror
you're turnin into something you are not

don't leave me hiiiiiiiiiighhhhhhh
don't leave me dryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

don't leave me hiiiiiiiiiiighhh
don't leave me dryyyyy

dryin up in conversation
you will be the one who cannot talk
all your insides fall to pieces
you just sit there wishin you could
still
make love

they're the ones that'll hate you when you got the world all switched out
they're the ones who'll spit at you
you'll be the one screamin out

don't leave hiiiiiiiiiiiiighhh
don't leave me dryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

don't leave me hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighhh
don't leave me dryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

oh, it's the best thing you ever had
the best thing you ever ever had


it's the best thing you had
the best you thing you had has gone away

so don't leave me hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighhhh
don't leave me dryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
don't leave me hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighhhhhhhhhhh
don't leave me dryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

don't leave me highhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
don't leave me highhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
don't leave me dry





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Friday, September 12, 2003

Stress

I have been feeling stressed out nearly all week. And most of it I have pointed towards Newspaper.

At first I had a pretty nice and easy story about a teacher that won an award.

Then Colin, my Entertaiment Editor, ripped up the green paper I had that had the story all plotted out on it. He ripped it right in half, threw it away, got me a new sheet, and said I was to do a story on DDR Freaks, meaning Dance Dance Revolution.

I had a couple of sources that people had given me, people that I do not know, of course. Then Colin told me Danae (yes, the one I had done my column around) was big into it.

So today I finally got up and interviewed her. The interview was horrible. I had lost my questions, so I had to wing it. Not that te questions would've helped me much at all anyways.

I got about five minutes of some good notes which were still horrible, then she went off and tried to play Flash Flash Revolution. It did not work so then she left. As she left I told her again that I needed to set up to meet her at the Raging Rivers' arcade and get some pictures there, since it is the only place that we have a DDR machine here.

So basically I don't know at all how in the world I am going to make this story work.

In general I just hate the reporting process, and it doesn't feel like it's for me. I also think I am terrible at it.

I'd rather just sit in Newspaper chucking out a column a day or something. It's the only thing that I consider any fun and that I could see myself doing every day as a career.

I definitely couldn't stand having to interview people that I otherwise could care less about and writing stories about them that I otherwise could careless about. It's selfish, but it's true.

When I am writing for myself it is so much easier, so much more interesting, so much more powerful, and so much more better in my opinion. Writing for someone else's doing whatever I find boring mostly. I find that I am timid at using words and using narrative that probably isn't true, and that also is true.

Not that I don't write for the reader..but it's definitely not them I always have in my mind when I sit down and just clamor away at making something. Ah well.

It has been a really stressful week. Homework nearly every day. The demand of school. The demand of my parents. The demand of other things. The mental stuff.

But I've kept fine this week mostly. It's just that I am an easy going person. I don't like to be forced to do things when I could careless about doing them...

Ah well.
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Thursday, September 11, 2003

Just

Can't get the stink off
He's been hanging round for days
Comes like a comet
Suckered you but not your friends
One day he'll get to you
Teach you how to be a holy cow

You do it to yourself you do
And that's what really hurts is
You do it to yourself just you
You and no-one else
You do it to yourself
You do it to yourself

Don't get my sympathy
Hanging out the 15th floor
You've changed the lock 3 times
I still comes reeling through the door
One day I'll get to you
And teach you how to get to purest Hell

You do it to yourself you do
And that's what really hurts is
You do it to yourself just you
You and no-one else
You do it to yourself
You do it to yourself

You do it to yourself you do
And that's what really hurts is
You do it to yourself just you
You and no-one else
You do it to yourself
You do it to yourself

(You do it to yourself)
(You do it to yourself)
(You do it to yourself)
(You do it to yourself)
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Calls me on the phone tells me all the ways he's gonna mess me up if i squeal to the cops

dreamy spin
it is time to sleep it away
but i do not want to end it this way
tomorrow will be another passing haze
and i will have to go my way like a tree
blowing in the wind and i will have to awake

awake is alive like an ocean or a tide
the current in the electricity feeding the mind
it is so sleepy that i choose to be alert and alive
it is so driveled that i choose to be well and pumping time

wish i could just drink it all up and away
like wine
wish i could just dine my last meal
and that would end time

the sleepmonsters all love us
they have no hands but have no eyes
black-eyed black-handed black sheets
like the black sheep
they give us our darkness and make it pass
as the sun spins and the earth spins past
and too bad that wouldn't end time
wish i could just drink it up and away
like wine

it's not mine
it's sleep's
and if i had that
it would end time

it's not mine
it's the sleepmasters
and if i had it
i would cry
and sob and be all meek
like the black sheep

so it is time
to sleep
it all
away

so it is
time
to
sleep it all
away

walk into the jaws of peter pan
sail on the magic dust and sand
be in the desert beach and the cool clouds
in the volcano where it's hotter than loud

so it is time
to sleep
it all
away

go far
away
where nothing can touch me
but what has came
go far
where nothing can touch me
but my own face and my own self
and i will soon become a spinning sun
and a red mars that bleeds in the ocean of the sky
even an earth that is green and oh so blue
all will spin
go far
away

all will
spin go far
away
and i will be mars as i bleed in the horizon
and i will be rusty and vague
so far
away

take me to
the dreams
take me to
the
dreams

i will go
far away
all will spin
so rusty and vague
so red and so drained
i will be taken to
dreams
where nothing can touch me
but what came

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A Wolf at the Door

(It Girl. Rag Doll.)

Drag him out the window
Dragging out your dead
Singing I miss you
Snakes & ladders flip the lid out pops the cracker smacks you in the
head knifes you in the neck kicks you in the teeth steel toe caps takes
all your credit cards step up get the gunge
Get the eggs get the flan in the face the flan in the face the flan
in the face
Dance you fucker dance you fucker don't you dare
Don't you dare don't you
Flan in the face
Take it with the love its given take it with a pinch of salt take it
to the taxman
Let me back let me back I promise to be good don't look in the mirror
at the face you don't recognize
Help me, call the doctor, put me inside put me inside put me inside
put me inside put me inside
I keep the wolf from the door but he calls me up calls me on the phone
tells me all the ways that he's gonna mess me up
Steal all my children if I don?t pay the ransom & I'll never see them
again if I squeal to the cops...
Walking like a giant cranes & with my X ray eyes I strip you naked in
a
Tight little world & are you on the list?
Stepford wives who are we to complain?
Investments & dealers. Investments & dealers
Cold wives & mistresses.
Cold wives & Sunday papers city boys in First Class don?t know we're
born just know
Someone else is gonna come & clean it up
Born & raised for the job
Someone always does I wish you'd get up go over get up go over &
turn this tape off
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Wednesday, September 10, 2003

The Camera Eye

little paper origami flies
the explosion
the implosion
exploding exoskeleton of an implosion
the nebulae in my iris's eye
the beautiful little cries
the sickening whispers behind the lines

little paper origami flies
wide hopeless ragmans with open wings
hysterically, hysterically
broken down to chemical processing

the implosion the explosion the exploding
the imploding the nexus the beautiful little cries
the nebulae in my iris's eye
little paper origami flies
bended and ripped and torn and
hysterically, hysterically
the sickening gurgles of chemical processing
the sickening eating away
the sickening; the teethed; the headless stare
pointing of an explosions' crosshairs
pointing of an implosions' despair

little paper
little paper origami flies
little paper nothing crumpled and torn
and hysterically, hysterically and
broken down chains and broken down
and chained and broken down

the heart pumping
the heart pounding
the heart crushing
the heart twisted to cruel and steel
without blood going through

and chained and broken down and
hanging around and living it down
and exploding and imploding all around
the nebulae in my iris's eye
little paper origami flies and
living around and let down
broken down to chemical processing and
broken down hysterically
hysterically broken down
let down
hanging around
breathing through water drowned

the heart pumping
the heart pounding
the heart crushing
the heart twisted to cruel and steel and
the sickening whispers behind the lines
sickening paper origami flies
buzzing cruising driving down
hissing shouting pounding it all around
diseased and sick and violated sounds
hysterically broken down and
hysterically broken down
and hanging around

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Tuesday, September 9, 2003

Dyers Eve

halloweve
skeletons are white
in the endless abyss of the night
and they say it well they say it right
the skeletons are dead grey no matter the day
no matter what they say

the neon deathbirds flash my eyes
as i hold the steering wheel in my hands
and it is my course and i steer this land
this country that is called to us free and grand

democratic is a greeting skull
on the halloweens of every day that passes by
often wondering is the saddest face of them all
even seeing their gravestones gives me the crawls

the skeletons are white
in the endless abyss of the night
and what they say is what is right
evenly they squirm in the maggots' sight

a small fly in the corner of my rearview mirror
a smear and a smile that says to fear
seeking no truth is seeking no wrong
eating away at myself is what takes its time
the maggot weaves his grime

where there is truth there are skulls
underneath the poor soul of the earth
thralls crawl and make their dirt
where there is truth there are skulls
and absolution is what keeps us calm
absolute is what we want to have

the skeletons are white
they have gone; they have bled life

like spiders with their many legs
the spinning womb creeps to our heads
as soon as we exhale we inhale
another closer to dead
another glance to backwards
so close but instead

this neon deathbird flashes to my pupils
it dilates; and irate is my head
the largest is smallest in the fields
the skeletons have died to kill

how beautiful the way it goes
how beautiful and absolute these graves
only flies and only canes
crutches for the wickeds; the ones without names

democratic is a greeting skull
the skeletons so white so pale
and it eats at me; this halloweve
the calling of release and freedoms' ribs
how gaunt it is to live at times
how broken it is to crack my bones
squeeze every last crack to crushed groans

the calling of release and freedoms' ribs
the beating heart that is held and singed
so gentle but so wicked cruel
beasts undermine the petty fools
and too bad they are so untame
for ponies are beautiful when they cave
falling to crushed organs and chains
only crutches for the wickeds; the ones without names

the neon deathbirds flash my eyes
as i hold the steering wheel in my hands
and it is my course and i steer this land
this country that is called to us free and grand

yet the only release is through freedoms' ribs
the chains that close us so brokenly in
and to squeeze is to cough and choke
joined to skeletons where they roam
but to be so young and a pony in the fields
too early to say yet what to feel

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Monday, September 8, 2003

That has drained my life so low.

I was depressed for the earlier part of today. Why I can never say, it just hits me and I just get in the mood that is so.

History cheered my up. I love my teacher, and I love learning in that class. It...the teacher makes it fun.

His name is Greg (to gs?) Schimdt. Heh. He's so cool.

In his room he has all these interesting posters and stuff.

One affectionately says, "Where's Waldo, the Anarchist," and it has this goofy picture of Waldo. Heh.

I still remember those books. They were so pointless but so entertaining.

"Oh, oh, there's Waldo!"

"Oh, oh, wait, that's not him, that's a fire hydrant! Damn!"

Heh.

His fire sign has fire brushing on it, then, bold letters, "HAIL SCHIMDTLER."

Below that, smaller, "Holy Schimdt."

Great stuff. Laughing is the only thing that makes all else seem worthwhile.

Also he just has this way with himself...it's sort of dorky, geeky, which is something that I can really understand. I mean, being King Dork the III should let me know this much.

Geometry is actually okay because I have a good teacher in that class as well. But it makes it harder for me to actually follow along with him as he teaches.

His name is Mr.Kosse. The first day of school, he put steel into our bones, fixed us with poison, and made us scared scarecrows feeding on corn.

Heh. Not really.

Entering Kosseland is like entering some place where you know where it's going, but you don't know why it's going and when it will stop.

I say Kosseland because that is what affectionately calls his dwelling. And he looks just like what I think a mathmetician would appear to look like. He has that fuzzy beard, those pointy glasses, the wide but pleasant face.

Yeah.

He's really funny.

As he was drawing a line segment, he said, "We've got our line segment here."

And then, someone else in class was all, "You mean crooked line."

Then another said, "A string."

Kosse started laughing, as did a lot of other people in the class. "That was just cruel," he said. "Just cruel. I'll get you back, you just wait."

Then, on an earlier day, he was asking what other things a rod was used for. Someone in class said a fishing pole. I was thinking the same thing. Heh.

Hm. So yeah. Day was fine and all, depressing at times, good at times.

After school I went with Chelsea from my Journalism class out to sell ads. That was pretty fun, just being around someone new, I guess.

The first place we went was Sta-mart. I walked up, asked for the manager, they told me she was there, then they called her.

She was this snobbish fading woman. You know how women look at their 40s, they look faded and losing their beauty. That's what she looked like.

I came over, did my song and dance.

"Hello. I'm from the Century Star, the newspaper at Century, I'm wondering if you'd like to buy some ads to put into our paper."

She laughed at me, and it wasn't a kind laugh. It was a mean laugh.

She of course didn't buy shit. She asked for my brochure, I gave it to her, and me and Chelsea were off.

Walking out, I smiled, sort of smirked at Chealsea. "I still can't believe she laughed at me," I said. I meant it in a humorous way. Chelsea took it like that. We laughed together about that.

Then we went other places. Target. Wal-Mart. This store called Journey's. Denny's.

At Denny's, as we left, Chelsea walked out in front of me, then let go of the door. It slammed me right in the elbow. I walked over to her, laughing, saying, "Well thanks for holding the door open for me."

Heh. That was fun times selling ads. I kept bringing up how that manager had laughed at me like I was such a loser, and we kept talking about other stuff.

I had forgotten to call my parents nearly the whole time. They didn't know where I was or what. So I called them, got the usual.

"You're in serious trouble," was what my Dad said, all terse and sour. Like he always does.

After that Chelsea soon dropped me off, and I was off to home.

I ate some Ramen Noodles, then took my brother swimming again. I kept swimming back and forth through the pool like last time. I still feel tired from the chlorine.
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Sunday, September 7, 2003

I quickly type up this.

When I came home from Ryan's house, I was told that we were going to eat at The Speedway restaurant in Mandan. I said fine, I did not care.

The restaurant is okay. The thing that is really horrible about it is the service. They have about two waiters working to a room full of people. It doesn't work, of course.

On the way there my brother was complaining about having to go eat there.

"Red Lobster is so much better," he'd say, and other things. My Dad would just stare ahead, his unshaven face bobbling like a balloon as he stared outside of his windshield and drove.

At the time I wasn't feeling too well at all. I had only eaten about five cookies and a bowl of Honeycomb cereal in the morning.

I'd also taken my brother swimming, more or less forced.

At the swimming pool I kept going under the water, and swimming back and forth to the beginning and to the end sides of the pool until I was exhausted and my face felt hot and my lungs felt like they were going to burst. A lot of the time I'd push myself even harder as I was nearly suffocating more and more. It felt kind of good though.

That and not eating food had tired me out quite a lot. I was in one my really quiet, somewhat depressive moods. I was just drained. It felt like everything was passing onward and that I'd just faint before it all caught back to me.

When I mumbled under my breath nearly that Steak Buffet sounded a lot better right then, my Dad turned and yelled at me. I just looked at him, saying, "I wasn't complaining. I was just saying that I'm hungry and I know the service is slow at this place. Why are you yelling at me when Kellan's been complaining the entire time there?"

But I already knew why. It's just the way things usually went. I was older, and therefore I was supposed to keep quiet and not say one thing. Not to cause any disrespect. It was unfair but I have been living with it as long as I can remember.

When we got there, I sat down and waited for us to get a table. Once we were set down, my parents and my brother began talking. I just put my head down for a while, and when I did sit up I was pretty lifeless and quiet.

My brother kept drawing his attention to me.

Recently he had gotten his Playstation 2 taken away, along with his recently bought Grand Theft Auto Vice City game. He was inevitably blaming me as the one who had gotten it taken away.

He kept grinning and laughing and staring at me.

My mom asked my why I was so friendly sarcastically, and I just made noise from my throat. Then she asked me what I did today. "Nothing," I said.

Then she got all mad and said she couldn't take this anymore, and left for a while. Then my Dad yelled at me, saying I shouldn't be so disrespectful.

I continued to say nothing.

My Mom returned, they began to talk more. Then my brother came in with one of his wonderful catch phrases. "I know why Mitch isn't talking!" he proclaimed proudly.

He paused for effect, then, "Because he has too many zits on his face!"

My Mom bowed her head comically, and I just laughed at my brother.

More time passed, more of my brother saying random things to me. Then we finally got our food.

I had ordered a cheeseburger. I cut it in half, and then put loads of ketchup on each bun, then loads of ketchup in a puddle on my plate.

Then I ate my hamburger like I always had. I dipped it deeply into the puddle of ketchup, then ate it. I was done nearly as quickly as I had begun, and then I took my brother's hamburger, which was too crispy for him, so he had ordered a new one.

After that I ate my fries, and then my parents started in on my again.

"You're so immature for your age," he said, after thinking near the same of Kellan. He rolled his eyes as he said it, like it was as sure as anything.

"You are," my Mom said as well. Then they told me that they shouldn't have to tell me to clean my room daily, and other things. I just took it.

Then my Mom said that when she had walked into my room last night that it had smelled horrible. That she had almost fainted.

"You know that bag of popcorn he had in his room? That was a week old. That was what had been smelling," was my Dad's response.

My Mom also said that it smelled all sweaty and that it smelled like male hormones in my room. I just took that as well. Perhaps it does, I mean I am a guy, aren't I?

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, my brother asked "what breast feeding is."

I laughed, and my parents explained.

Then my Dad brought up that earlier as they were at the mall and Kellan had gotten a pretzel that Kellan had pointed to a girl sitting, proclaiming, "Look Dad! You can see her underwear!"

Then my Dad ended this story with, "And there you could see her wearing a big old thong."

I rolled my eyes at that.

After some other stuff, we finally left.

Probably the most productive thing I did all day.
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