Friday, September 12, 2003

Johnny Cash: 1932-2003.

another era has ended. my words, all our words, are meaningless.

anyways, this has been a strange week musically. the Pixies reunite and Johnny Cash departs.

Johnny Cash, what can be said? he was possibly the most important, influential, and honest man in all of music. in his 50 year career, he's left behind some of the most beautiful, depressing, and intense music ever recorded.

yes, INTENSE. intensity is more than just speed riffs, blast beats, and screaming vocals. it's the honesty, the candidness of the song, of the person writing the song, the person singing the song. Johnny Cash was intense because he meant what he said. he wasn't some pretensious wanna be poet or some ego manical guitar virtuoso. he understood that simplicity was often times best. all you need is a guitar, a voice, the words, and the heart. he had it all.

he lived through some stormy weather and provided the soundtrack for himself and others who shared his lows but didn't have the skills, or the guts, to put it to use creativley. so many people just live day to day in the shit that surrounds them, doing nothing to try and better their situation. they point fingers, shift blame, and go on living in this pathetic microchosim while wishing for something better. Cash never let the stench of shit slow him down.

he always will be The Man In Black. he will always be amazing.

Rest in Peace. no one deserves it more than you.

Thursday, September 11, 2003

"I hear that, Renegade."
i never want to be happy again.

Tuesday, September 09, 2003

i'm going to do something a little different now, COMPLAIN.

i'm am so fucking bored with all of this constant melodrama. one "earth shattering event" like someone dropping a soup bowl unravels an entire web of past grievences, broken promises that you can't remember what they were and why they were made, hurt feelings, then moping and brooding. it's driving me crazy. See? it leads to more melodrama.

than it all goes away when a Neil Young song comes on the radio. then it falls back to sleep, waiting for a hair on your steak to spark up that flame that is your misdirected anger so more trivial turmoil can take your life asunder. after every breakdown one more nerve is twisted, one more feeling is hurt, and you're left just a tad more jaded and mysanthropic. than you watch Family Guy and it's briefly amused, than you take a shit and leave little skid marks in the toilet and suddenly the manhole covers burst forth into the sky and big black couds begin to rain down sulfur and expired breast milk.

and then you get mad, and everyone tells you to "chill out. you're so angry. you need to relax. you fly off the handle at any little thing". the good ole' switch-a-roo/guilt trip combo.

i don't trust anyone anymore. everyone seems to have some sort of perverse, self serving agenda. they want you to love, sypathyze, pity, fear, and defend them. they want to be all things to you, not all things for you. they pull at your heart strings and then strangle you with them. it's happend to me one to many times in my short life, and it's too much to take. we're all paranoid lunatics who exist to violently tap dance on the rib cages of others, never expecting, perhaps never recieving, a healthy dose of karma in the form of a baseball bat to the cranium.

i'm going to let the violin collect dust.