Matter Over Mind
Thursday, September 20, 2007
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Saving this blog from atrophy, one naive observation at a time!
When a blog goes dormant, it is due usually to one of two things—a dearth of things to say, or a goddamn glut. Currently, I fall under the latter, far too busy picking bits of my brain off the floor from the past few weeks’ events. This morning, for instance, I learned that thieves (the same group or brand new bastards, we can’t tell) had paid us a visit yet again and, their pickings limited by the new iron grills and alarms clamping our house down, made off with my cousin’s bicycle. The Bicycle Thief, you say? Hah-hah. Hah. Now go jack off, film freak. (But please, please, give me your number before you go.) This latest theft has brought on another round of fear and frustration for the household, obviously. Now watch me scurry off for that bit of brain. It has slid to a corner and is wriggling with glee.
But I am generally fine. In between this month’s mindfucks and their corresponding aftermaths, I am able to write, read, and work as usual. It’s just really difficult or inappropriate for me to make my thoughts public recently. But I knew I’d have to put something in here eventually.
Hence, a song!
This baby has gotten me through a good deal of shit the past two years. One of those remedial “speeding down the highway after a particularly strange night/hideously early morning” songs, because I’m such a cliché that way. Download and enjoy.
Forget Myself
Elbow
They're pacing Piccadilly in packs again
And moaning for the mercy of a never come rain
The suns had enough and the simmering sky
Has the heave and the hue of a woman on fire
Shop shutters rattle down and I'm cutting the crowd
All scented and descending from the satellite towns
The neon is graffiti singing make a new start
So I look for a plot where I can bury my broken heart
No, I know I won't forget you
But I'll forget myself, if the city will forgive me
The man on the door has a head like Mars
Like a baby born to the doors of the bars
And surrounded by steam with his folded arms
He's got that urban genie thing going on
He's so mercifully free of the pressures of grace
Saint Peter in satin, he's like Buddha with mace
He's so mercifully free of the pressures of grace
Saint Peter in satin, he's like Buddha with mace
No, I know I won't forget you
But I'll forget myself, if the city will forgive me
No, I know I won't forget you
But I'll forget myself, if the city will forgive me
Do you move through the room with a glass in your hand
Thinking too hard about the way you stand
Are you watching them pair off and drinking them long
Are you falling in love every second song
Do you move through the room with a glass in your hand
Thinking too hard about the way you stand
Are you watching them pair off and drinking them long
Are you falling in love...
Are you falling in love...
Are you falling in love every second song
posted by marguerite @ 6:43 PM
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