Wednesday, January 28, 2004

Speak to Me--Breathe

If you've noticed, the subjects of all my posts have been Pink Floyd songs lately.

But then again, maybe you didn't notice that. And you should be assassinated for not knowing this fact, and knowing Mitch and not knowing Pink Floyd as well. Mitch lives with Pink Floyd, and breathes them. He also speaks to them. He has high hopes he will forever, even when he's said goodbye blue sky and even if he's gotten brain damage.

Hm.

All is fine, I guess. I do feel a little tired, a little this and that, but I'd say I'm fine. Or maybe I'm just saying that--I don't even know anymore. It's a lot like when someone IMs you, and the second or first thing they ask you is, "How are you?" and you're knocking upstairs thinking, "Well Mitch, how are you?" and the man upstairs isn't really answering--not at all--and you just guess you're okay.

That's what it's like. I don't know how I am--I also don't like people asking me how I am, much, either, unless they're a very very close person to me.

In real life, it's never been this case, even with my parents. I don't just turn and tell people how I am, because at this point in my life I'm all confused myself, so how can I even know how I really feel when it's just a slew of a million things I can't even finger on? Yeah.

The funeral was actually an okay experience. My only big complaint is, well, it's just too overplayed and too religious. I plan on doing some kind of post to this point. We'll see--maybe I could just use a floppy and move it over here to the school computer, thus posting it here. I have an idea. Let's just say it happens to deal with the Rosemary I had the oh-so-jovial chance to attend to. What a goddamned methodical experience; it made me wonder if Christians are Methodists or something.

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from hell?
Blue skies from pain?

Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

I've pretty much memorized this song. It gets to the point where you've listened to something enough that it just becomes you.

I think most can tell this is a filler post, and so on and so forth. Basically, anyone that hasn't heard a single Pink Floyd song, well, I believe this person deserves to redeem their lives by listening to Pink Floyd.

Think I'll end with some lyrics. These are the lyrics to the subject's title, which is "Speak to Me--Breathe." It's off of The Darkside of the Moon, an album that pretty much let Pink Floyd live on, and produce albums like The Wall.

Pink Floyd-Speak to Me--Breathe
"I've been mad for fucking years, absolutely years, been
over the edge for yonks, been working me buns off for bands..."
"I've always been mad, I know I've been mad, like the
most of us...very hard to explain why you're mad, even
if you're not mad..."

Breathe, breathe in the air
Don't be afraid to care
Leave but don't leave me
Look around and choose your own ground

Long you live and high you fly
And smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry
And all you touch and all you see
Is all your life will ever be

Run, rabbit run
Dig that hole, forget the sun
And when at last the work is done
Don't sit down it's time to dig another one

For long you live and high you fly But only if you ride the tide
And balanced on the biggest wave
You race towards an early grave

I'd like to also add that I read pretty crazily these last few days. The Dark Half is a very good book. The book has that small text in it and all, and I'm already on page 212 or something. It's only about 400-something pages long, so I'm already halfway done with it. Yay.

I also wrote the start of a new piece last night. I think it's going okay, we'll see where it goes. Hm.

I think I should be like Richard Bachman, Mark Twain, and all the rest of those pseudonym guys; I should get a pseudonym--that would be fun.

I mean, I do seem to have different ways I write. And the darker stuff, to me, is always my best stuff (even if others might say it's not so).
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