The catch-all for items related to and/or inspired by the music that shaped me.
Whaddup y'all? Man, it's a beautiful thing when everything works out the way it should...when you're putting something together and all the pieces just snap into place with minimal effort and the end result looks exactly as it's pictured on the box. Today's blog entry, brought to you by Burger King , is absolutely about that not happening.
After seeing today's images, I was fairly set on which one I would use for a poem, and then build a blog entry around it. Things began falling together nicely; I even started making notes in my physical "Also Mutants" notebook as to what I'd discuss (that's how I know I'm back back: making blog entry notes...that's like the 2013 shit right there). I had some websites of goofy stuff, I had the song picked out (which Charlie 🌈 would say he'd be disappointed if I didn't include if I wrote something about hands ), and I was good to go. All I needed was a new poem to go along with an old poem ("Purgatory" ) I wrote a couple years ago after a dream I had based kinda on that song.
So the new poem came. And- surprise!- I hated it. Didn't like the title; didn't think it wound up being right for the piece. Thought the body was too dorky. Maybe too science-y (although some of you much smarter people will be all confused and say it's not science-y enough, and ya got me there). So I took a quick break and tried to reset the image in my mind...and wrote something else I promptly decided was also not good enough. Corny, cheesy, lame, Disney Channel, Junior High feel-good pep rally nonsense. If you're keeping score at home, they're poems #17 and #18..."Some Kind Of Ancient Ruse" and "What We Bring" .
Disappointed but undeterred, I turned my focus to the alternate picture for today. I thought about ego, and the one residing in a person who maybe was once good or perhaps the best at whatever he or she did a generation or two ago, but has been replaced due to age and cheaper/better labor and technology, and the best that person could do now was to hope to get by on name recognition alone but was struggling. I'd like to think I channeled my minimal anger and disappointment at having struck out twice today into a bit of cynicism and joy at this fictional person's demise .
I guess you could say that when I was finished with it, I felt that satisfaction of being done...took a little longer and the instructions weren't all in order and the language wasn't always readable, but it pretty much almost looks like it shows on the package, even if there really wasn't a package to begin with .
Silver At Sleep
What's it feel like to be a
post-modern industry, dying?
You jumped to one too many conclusions;
now you can't fall for standing.
These days that many shades of blue
will never look good on you
unless it's beside the sea
of self-pity you've relaxed in
after a steady diet of yourself.
And I love that you're too proud
to say you're stuck when
we all know the wheels are turnin'
but there's no place to go.
You can't just be.
You can't let it be.
"Silver At Sleep" from "Also Mutants" .
Woulda been far too easy to plug in The Tragically Hip's "Silver Jet" in this space and been done with it, but I feel like I've used them in so many entries in my blogging history already...and that's much closer to a love/romance song (although it's kinda not, actually), so let's move to a different part of Canada and go with a slightly more cynical song.
"Silver" - Moist
"Everybody wants...everybody says...everybody begs...in time.
You will be the first to fall. Every feeling will dissolve. We are silver."
From the "Don't Think We Forgot About You, Motherfucker" file: Apparently, it's ok to forgive Bill Cosby for all of his worst transgressions if you write for a newspaper and liked his tv show . Yep, this is part of America in 2017. We're still normalizing rape, sexual assault, and drugging women to commit both. And to think I've been worrying so much about not having flying cars in the 21st century ...yet caveman behavior remains in style. Damn.
Yes, the world is still a terrible place and will probably always be, and in addition to individual mental health therapist sessions I also take a group therapy DBT class (Dialectical Behavior Therapy) on Wednesdays (so I might be a little late with the Image IDs) so I don't go off and strangle fools or cut bitches or run my mouth to the point of getting the shit kicked outta me. And since we all need to laugh to fight off the world's terribleness, here's some tweets about group therapy .
But, ya know, in case you're interested in the not terrible things the world has to offer (and there are pockets of that goodness here and there, despite my best efforts to prove to you otherwise), you can show the world your romantic side and enter my friend Petrified in Purple 's contest, "Write From the Heart - Story Contest" . You have two days to get your entry in, which is, like, no problem if you, like, love and stuff, or something.
And finally, it's important to remember that not all heroes wear capes...this fine gentleman went to today's sponsor, Burger King, after a long hard day. He may have walked out spending much more than he planned, but it was entirely worth it and I would've done the exact same thing because fuck your spoiled bratty kid, and fuck the shitty parent who lets their kid act like a little rotten Trump while waiting in line at a busy fast food restaurant. I say to this man bravo in my deepest, most sincere voice.
Alright all you fine, lovely individuals who've made it this far...it's time for me to move on to other things this evening. I've wasted spent far too much of my day thinking about this entry, and I'm afraid that if I don't quit soon it may consume me the rest of the night...that's not good for anyone, and it inhibits my ability to care about making more of them in the days and weeks to come. Peace, come touch and feel and lick and smell, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!