Sunday, November 21, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
The Death of Glory
Atticus Freyr understood the concept of disillusionment fairly early, long before he experienced it. He thought he was disillusioned when he was 10 because he knew about poverty and disease and genocide, but these things did not corrupt his fundamental view of the world. His belief in the power of will to change reality, his sense that all humans had freedom, had an unlimited range of motion - these things remained intact. And so he thought that, though he was trapped by the power of parents over children and by law in the bureaucracy and unrelenting schedule of his prison-school, someday he could be happy.
Real disillusionment forced itself on him in the form of gray files in a gray cubicle in a gray office. After college he got a job doing the filing for the company that makes the labels for soda cans, and became intensely unhappy.
What Atticus wanted was to experience the whole world, dig into it and scrape himself on it, come back up gloriously grimy and grinning ear to ear, to write a new creation story, to start a revolution. The ever-present necessities of food, water, and shelter thwarted his plans. He supposed he had always known these condemning necessities existed but had never really believed in them until he felt hunger in his belly and could not pay rent.
That was when he discovered that he hated work - a genuine, deep-rooted hatred that filled his body first with anger and then with despair. Every fiber of his being rebelled against necessity, and for a while he tried to ignore it, to let himself slowly die in order to be happy in life. But base animal pains overcame his will and, feeling the shameful weight of his weakness, he crawled back to work.
That was when he became deeply unhappy. Realizing his degrading emotional state, he sat down in his dim living room/kitchen/bedroom and retreated so far into his mind that the traffic noise could not reach him. Why was he unhappy? The answer came in stages, which he let build and evolve until he was presented with a final, certain answer.
He had, in fact, a severely limited range of motion. Atticus had inherited a bureaucracy just as bad as public school. It became apparent to him that the structure and form society took was made for one thing, and it did that one thing reasonably well: it provided for the longest lives for the most people. The problem was that in the process it destroyed everything else. As the child to the parent, he was a dependent who had to conform. Most people, he realized, lived their whole lives this way, doing work they despised, waiting out the dreary days. And for what? What could be the purpose if not happiness? Atticus knew that civilization's response to necessity made everyone it infected fundamentally unhappy. This was his disillusionment. Not the tragedy of death and destruction, but the slavery, the quiet desperation, of an office job.
Real disillusionment forced itself on him in the form of gray files in a gray cubicle in a gray office. After college he got a job doing the filing for the company that makes the labels for soda cans, and became intensely unhappy.
What Atticus wanted was to experience the whole world, dig into it and scrape himself on it, come back up gloriously grimy and grinning ear to ear, to write a new creation story, to start a revolution. The ever-present necessities of food, water, and shelter thwarted his plans. He supposed he had always known these condemning necessities existed but had never really believed in them until he felt hunger in his belly and could not pay rent.
That was when he discovered that he hated work - a genuine, deep-rooted hatred that filled his body first with anger and then with despair. Every fiber of his being rebelled against necessity, and for a while he tried to ignore it, to let himself slowly die in order to be happy in life. But base animal pains overcame his will and, feeling the shameful weight of his weakness, he crawled back to work.
That was when he became deeply unhappy. Realizing his degrading emotional state, he sat down in his dim living room/kitchen/bedroom and retreated so far into his mind that the traffic noise could not reach him. Why was he unhappy? The answer came in stages, which he let build and evolve until he was presented with a final, certain answer.
He had, in fact, a severely limited range of motion. Atticus had inherited a bureaucracy just as bad as public school. It became apparent to him that the structure and form society took was made for one thing, and it did that one thing reasonably well: it provided for the longest lives for the most people. The problem was that in the process it destroyed everything else. As the child to the parent, he was a dependent who had to conform. Most people, he realized, lived their whole lives this way, doing work they despised, waiting out the dreary days. And for what? What could be the purpose if not happiness? Atticus knew that civilization's response to necessity made everyone it infected fundamentally unhappy. This was his disillusionment. Not the tragedy of death and destruction, but the slavery, the quiet desperation, of an office job.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Alexander Wept (in progress)
These are the practice hands I drew before putting any pen on my actual drawing. As you can see from my first failed attempts, this was a very good idea.
Monday, May 31, 2010
The World is Worth my Time
I always wanted to be somewhere else, although when I got there I didn't want to be there either. It was like the air was pushing in on me. I shouldn't have been able to exist because the air itself didn't want me. That was how I knew that what I was waiting for could never come.
The truth is I don't know how to write about being happy. I've never had a need.
Aiming high has always been my thing. The difference is now there are good things in this world for me. I credit Wellbutrin; I credit therapy. You I credit most of all. You make these sun-bleached sterile streets tolerable. In fact you make them shine. I always knew I would strive for greatness. You make it worth my time.
The truth is I don't know how to write about being happy. I've never had a need.
Aiming high has always been my thing. The difference is now there are good things in this world for me. I credit Wellbutrin; I credit therapy. You I credit most of all. You make these sun-bleached sterile streets tolerable. In fact you make them shine. I always knew I would strive for greatness. You make it worth my time.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Apathy
Sit around and talk about the things you'll do.
There's nothing you can do.
You're the victim here so let's hear a cheer for apathy.
When you're old and start to decay you'll be full of regrets.
It's okay, we'll complain until there's no one left to blame.
Let's face it, you're never climbing out of this hole so get comfortable with misery:
Commute and work and watch TV.
Oh, and don't forget to buy, buy, buy, it's only $19.99.
Does it make you feel better to know you're part of the machine?
This is Capitalism, the things our fathers didn't fight for in the Cold War!
Work 14 hours a day and buy the biggest house you can't afford,
You're living the American Dream!
When you're old you'll be in debt but it's okay, there's always someone to blame.
Nothing matters much. Nothing's gonna change. Your kids will be the same.
The planet's going down the drain.
So just give in, it's easier that way.
There's nothing you can do.
You're the victim here so let's hear a cheer for apathy.
When you're old and start to decay you'll be full of regrets.
It's okay, we'll complain until there's no one left to blame.
Let's face it, you're never climbing out of this hole so get comfortable with misery:
Commute and work and watch TV.
Oh, and don't forget to buy, buy, buy, it's only $19.99.
Does it make you feel better to know you're part of the machine?
This is Capitalism, the things our fathers didn't fight for in the Cold War!
Work 14 hours a day and buy the biggest house you can't afford,
You're living the American Dream!
When you're old you'll be in debt but it's okay, there's always someone to blame.
Nothing matters much. Nothing's gonna change. Your kids will be the same.
The planet's going down the drain.
So just give in, it's easier that way.
Alone, Together
I love being bored.
I love having nothing to do.
I love wasting all my time.
I love being online
Waiting uselessly for you.
Gmail says, "Riley is not available to chat,"
So I talk to his email account.
"I feel like I can sing right now. It's amazing."
The blind, deaf slate records it
For him to find much later
And know he wasn't alone.
I love having nothing to do.
I love wasting all my time.
I love being online
Waiting uselessly for you.
Gmail says, "Riley is not available to chat,"
So I talk to his email account.
"I feel like I can sing right now. It's amazing."
The blind, deaf slate records it
For him to find much later
And know he wasn't alone.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Paragon for the Wrong
Our young commander with scars on his face.
His armor gleams dull gray and bright gold.
Soldiers wait row on row, arms and legs
and sparkling eyes that gleam gray and gold somewhere deep inside.
He raises his hand. he gives the command.
We're not believers but well take a stand.
Our young commander, he has a plan.
Another fight, another win, another story to tell the kids.
So you want to rule the world?
In the morning light pale gray and gold
your flag's unfurled and we begin the fight.
Our young commander unmatched in strength and grace.
Deep in his marble palace he rules the human race.
The heretics outside these walls
They're just loud, snarling mouths without eyes or brains,
fingers or veins. Just running feet, pounding fists, gnashing teeth.
They have no faith.
Inside we're loyal disciples
Joyful hearts and sparkling eyes.
We know that we're right.
Until the fateful night the faithless filled the sky
With fire and smoke all gray and red and gold.
We all took a stand. We fought to the last.
We the faithful, row on row of arms and legs and steely eyes
We failed by sunrise.
My young commander died today.
He left me lost in smoke and flame.
His followers disperse and shrink;
Become shameful, hateful objects;
Limp arms and legs and dead, dead eyes
As his flag burns.
The ruins of his empire are gray and red and gold:
Gray smoke, red blood, gold crown
Blasphemous on a different head.
That's when it hits me my leader is dead.
My life's work is rubble.
My back's against the wall.
But I have one thing the faithless, the rebels will never have.
I'm still certain I was right.
His armor gleams dull gray and bright gold.
Soldiers wait row on row, arms and legs
and sparkling eyes that gleam gray and gold somewhere deep inside.
He raises his hand. he gives the command.
We're not believers but well take a stand.
Our young commander, he has a plan.
Another fight, another win, another story to tell the kids.
So you want to rule the world?
In the morning light pale gray and gold
your flag's unfurled and we begin the fight.
Our young commander unmatched in strength and grace.
Deep in his marble palace he rules the human race.
The heretics outside these walls
They're just loud, snarling mouths without eyes or brains,
fingers or veins. Just running feet, pounding fists, gnashing teeth.
They have no faith.
Inside we're loyal disciples
Joyful hearts and sparkling eyes.
We know that we're right.
Until the fateful night the faithless filled the sky
With fire and smoke all gray and red and gold.
We all took a stand. We fought to the last.
We the faithful, row on row of arms and legs and steely eyes
We failed by sunrise.
My young commander died today.
He left me lost in smoke and flame.
His followers disperse and shrink;
Become shameful, hateful objects;
Limp arms and legs and dead, dead eyes
As his flag burns.
The ruins of his empire are gray and red and gold:
Gray smoke, red blood, gold crown
Blasphemous on a different head.
That's when it hits me my leader is dead.
My life's work is rubble.
My back's against the wall.
But I have one thing the faithless, the rebels will never have.
I'm still certain I was right.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Wherever You Go (There You Are)
I moved away from my first love, far away from the smell of the sea.
I hoped I could return someday but my home went and changed on me.
So I ran all around the world and when there was nowhere left to go
I said I need to be alone, 'cause wherever you go, there you are.
You said, "You take everything too serious."
I rarely know how to cope with this friggin screwed up world.
If I could find a way to run away you know I'd run away.
Tried it three times, but I can't run away.
'Cause I ran all around the world and when there was nowhere left to go
I said I need to be alone, need to think things through, 'cause wherever you go, there you are.
You always thought life was a game to be won and for a while you were winning.
You're always in the tabloids, the cover of Harbor High Today.
You used to say drama blows away, but you're not saying that today.
Now you know you can't run away
'Cause you ran all around the world and when there was nowhere left to go
You said you need to talk things through, you need to know I'm here for you, 'cause wherever you go, there you are.
'Cause how do you run away when you're the villain in the play?
All I know is: your guardian is all I've ever been and if that's all I ever am then that's okay.
So please believe me when I say you can't run away.
I hoped I could return someday but my home went and changed on me.
So I ran all around the world and when there was nowhere left to go
I said I need to be alone, 'cause wherever you go, there you are.
You said, "You take everything too serious."
I rarely know how to cope with this friggin screwed up world.
If I could find a way to run away you know I'd run away.
Tried it three times, but I can't run away.
'Cause I ran all around the world and when there was nowhere left to go
I said I need to be alone, need to think things through, 'cause wherever you go, there you are.
You always thought life was a game to be won and for a while you were winning.
You're always in the tabloids, the cover of Harbor High Today.
You used to say drama blows away, but you're not saying that today.
Now you know you can't run away
'Cause you ran all around the world and when there was nowhere left to go
You said you need to talk things through, you need to know I'm here for you, 'cause wherever you go, there you are.
'Cause how do you run away when you're the villain in the play?
All I know is: your guardian is all I've ever been and if that's all I ever am then that's okay.
So please believe me when I say you can't run away.
Underwater
Kept underwater, though I still need air
Under a weight I know I cannot bear.
Because I need it was never a good enough reason
So I bear what I must bear
And I breath despite the water and I walk towards the air
Because the world's laws govern me despite what I can take.
Home is so far away and it'll never feel the same.
I need to replicate those few good days
The cool morning fog and the warm evening air
But that was never a good enough reason
So I breath despite the water
And I walk. And I fall.
And I can't get air to my heart and my brain.
The water and the world don't care what I can and can't take.
Under a weight I know I cannot bear.
Because I need it was never a good enough reason
So I bear what I must bear
And I breath despite the water and I walk towards the air
Because the world's laws govern me despite what I can take.
Home is so far away and it'll never feel the same.
I need to replicate those few good days
The cool morning fog and the warm evening air
But that was never a good enough reason
So I breath despite the water
And I walk. And I fall.
And I can't get air to my heart and my brain.
The water and the world don't care what I can and can't take.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Haven (Installment 4)
When I opened the door James' eyes sought out Jane and he said, "Do you remember that Twilight Zone with the aliens who promised to help humanity? Well, that's maybe not the perfect metaphor 'cause it turned out they wanted to eat us, but still, wouldn't that be great? I mean, Someone swoops in with all the answers, solves all our problems. The God Machine. And we can do it. You can. They can. Whatever." My slow, deliberate mind wasn't keeping up. Jane got it before I did.
"You want the Havinians to go to the Earth universe to help humanity."
"Yes!" James exclaimed with shining pride and happiness.
"No."
"What?" James looked baffled, and I imagine I did, too. It had sounded like a good idea to me.
"Don't tell anyone this ides, James, because it's not a good one, but they're gonna wanna do it, because they're good, and moral, and altruistic, and very, very naive."
"But... earth is your home, Jane."
"It's not."
"They need you. They're suffering."
"I don't care."
James looked bereft.
Jane's voice had risen and she had leaned forward in her chair, but now she leaned back and said, "That's not true... yes it is."
Pleading now, James said, "C'mon, you don't want to save the world?"
"No, I don't."
When Jane was a child she was made an outsider. Her peers rejected her, bullied her. So she rejected them in return.
One day when she was 10 her classmates got mad at her for for making them lose a kickball game and the rest of the day made their disdain for her intelligence and maturity clear. She kept a stony face all day and almost believed herself that she did not care about their opinions, but when she went home she cried uncontrollably into her mother's shoulder.
"Sports don't matter," Jane sobbed, hurt and outraged but surprisingly coherent. "Science matters. Science can save the world."
Stroking her child's shocking orange hair, Jane's mom said, "You're right. But do one thing for me, okay? Don't hate the world. Or what will be the point in saving it?"
"You want the Havinians to go to the Earth universe to help humanity."
"Yes!" James exclaimed with shining pride and happiness.
"No."
"What?" James looked baffled, and I imagine I did, too. It had sounded like a good idea to me.
"Don't tell anyone this ides, James, because it's not a good one, but they're gonna wanna do it, because they're good, and moral, and altruistic, and very, very naive."
"But... earth is your home, Jane."
"It's not."
"They need you. They're suffering."
"I don't care."
James looked bereft.
Jane's voice had risen and she had leaned forward in her chair, but now she leaned back and said, "That's not true... yes it is."
Pleading now, James said, "C'mon, you don't want to save the world?"
"No, I don't."
When Jane was a child she was made an outsider. Her peers rejected her, bullied her. So she rejected them in return.
One day when she was 10 her classmates got mad at her for for making them lose a kickball game and the rest of the day made their disdain for her intelligence and maturity clear. She kept a stony face all day and almost believed herself that she did not care about their opinions, but when she went home she cried uncontrollably into her mother's shoulder.
"Sports don't matter," Jane sobbed, hurt and outraged but surprisingly coherent. "Science matters. Science can save the world."
Stroking her child's shocking orange hair, Jane's mom said, "You're right. But do one thing for me, okay? Don't hate the world. Or what will be the point in saving it?"
Friday, January 29, 2010
Dumb Luck
We're all stupid we do what we're told
or we don't and we get in trouble even more.
We don't know what's coming but we keep walking anyway.
I'm stunned when the sun rises every day.
Danger wakes me up and tired makes me feel alive
So if you're restless let's run.
We'll try everything and if we fail we'll hop on the next train.
run with me just run with me run with me.
I don't wanna make a plan (jump jump)
I don't wanna make a plan (don't look)
I just wanna go (jump jump)
We'll see when we get there (don't look).
We're all stupid we do what we're told
or we don't and we get in trouble even more.
We don't know what's coming but we keep walking anyway.
I'm stunned when the sun rises every day.
We don't know nothin let's keep it that way
so we can have stupid dumb luck fun
and if the sun rises tomorrow we can always run.
or we don't and we get in trouble even more.
We don't know what's coming but we keep walking anyway.
I'm stunned when the sun rises every day.
Danger wakes me up and tired makes me feel alive
So if you're restless let's run.
We'll try everything and if we fail we'll hop on the next train.
run with me just run with me run with me.
I don't wanna make a plan (jump jump)
I don't wanna make a plan (don't look)
I just wanna go (jump jump)
We'll see when we get there (don't look).
We're all stupid we do what we're told
or we don't and we get in trouble even more.
We don't know what's coming but we keep walking anyway.
I'm stunned when the sun rises every day.
We don't know nothin let's keep it that way
so we can have stupid dumb luck fun
and if the sun rises tomorrow we can always run.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Sometimes it's Easy
My soul pours out my fingertips, dropping key by key.
My soul pours out my fingertips, onto glowing screen.
Silent template filling up with tiny scribbled things;
Black on white can mean so much when golden liquid enthralls me.
My soul pours out my fingertips, drains me key by key.
My soul pours out my fingertips onto glowing screen.
My soul pours out my fingertips, onto glowing screen.
Silent template filling up with tiny scribbled things;
Black on white can mean so much when golden liquid enthralls me.
My soul pours out my fingertips, drains me key by key.
My soul pours out my fingertips onto glowing screen.
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