Tuesday, July 3, 2018

A Child in Court

"I prefer to make snap judgements with little or no information. My opinion is founded on impulses which are entitled to irrevocable rights. As a result, there is not much I can admit to not knowing." 

Wednesday, June 20, 2018

Townes Van Zandt - Rake analysis


I used to wake and run with the moon
I lived like a rake and a young man
I covered my lovers with flowers and wounds
My laughter the devil would frighten
The sun she would come and beat me back down
But every cruel day had its nightfall

- This is quite evident; an old beast who is nostalgic for wild times gone. If we take the moon and night as symbols of mystery and transcendent passion, and juxtapose them with the day, which would be self-awareness, doubt, and mortality, this song is much easier to profile. Larger, stronger than the devil, he lived as a rake - collecting experiences into piles of a divine and meaningful life.

I'd welcome the stars with wine and guitars
Full of fire and forgetful
My body was sharp the dark air clean
And outrage my joyful companion
Whisperin' women how sweet did they seem
Kneelin' for me to command them

- The line full of fire and forgetful is probably the most revealing in this song. Forgetful of what exactly? Full of fire, full of vitality and will - the feeling to be overtaken by the current of a destiny. But forgetful? Maybe forgetful of all the small insignificant things we hold onto; identity, opinions, hurt and trauma. Forgetful of a past seamed by pain and confusion. Whether right or wrong, outrage, a popular feeling nowadays, is only possible in the perceived clarity of some truth. And this truth he has is validated as women bow before him. Forgetful of the things which murk his mind and righteousness.

And time was like water but I was the sea
I'd have never noticed it passin'
Except for the turnin' of night into day
And the turnin' of day into cursin'

- The conceptual reality of time is 2 dimensional, flat, easily bypassed when aware of larger realities; the flow of it demands focus when living in the world of men. But he obviously chooses to get to the point of it, meaning he felt so much in tune with the vibrancy of life that time has been properly minimised and put into its rightful place. But then night turns into day, energy begins to wane, doubt resurfaces, probably the truth of his loneliness - and all he can say is “Fuuuuccckkk!”

You look at me now, and don't think I don't know
What all your eyes are a sayin'
Does he want us to believe these ravings and lies
They're just tricks that his brains been a playin'?
A lover of women he can't hardly stand
He trembles he's bent and he's broken
I've fallen it's true but I say unto you
Hold your tongues until after I've spoken

- These verses are aimed at the world of men. He knows he’s different, the eyes of people around him reflect his solitude. These people shoot words at him intending to rupture his glory, and since he is sensitive, naive enough to believe people are like him, he considers what they say. They tell him his visions are psychological, perhaps he needs to see a therapist. They tell him he is crazy. He considers what they say; this breaks him because they don’t exercise love through support.

I was takin' my pride in the pleasures I'd known
I laughed and thought I'd be forgiven
But my laughter turned 'round eyes blazing and
Said my friend, we're holdin' a wedding
I buried my face but it spoke once again
The night to the day we're a bindin'
And now the dark air is like fire on my skin
And even the moonlight is blinding.

- The experiences he raked up fill him with a pride that only he is a witness of; a true rebel, he revolted against the entire structure of what has been built by others. This pride satisfies the need for definition and purpose, but it is impossible to maintain. Like Icarus at his highest point. Townes decided not be a hypocrite, and to go as far as he could into what romantics dream of. But like Icarus, he found that all those dreams are as insubstantial as clouds. He thought he would be forgiven for this mistake, but we keep, collect, and judge ourselves off of every experience we have (even if we seem to forget them). Excessive living creates the highest highs and the lowest lows  proportionate to each degree, and when the new season of his life comes, the binding of day and night, of truth and reality, of the feeling and the world without heart - there’s nowhere to recover. The system dawns, enlightening mysteries, and the life-loving feelings he remembers he once had only serve to remind him of his failings to maintain them. This hurts, and he can’t tolerate this new truth. The moonlight now illuminates the limits he never knew he had, and unless he adapts to what he now sees, he will suffer as cursed as he once felt blessed.

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

Adam and Eve (song)

Where shall we go, with the storm coming near
we've got to find some place, beyond the clouds where we'll spend the next year.
Someday i will find, your shoes next to mine
and with your song in season, I can't compare, nothing more blessed under time.
And there is no reason to look behind with the road still ahead
and there is no reason to try and find those things better left unsaid.

There's nothing back there but pain stretched over time
dramatic illusions we'd soon forget everything will be fine.
Darkness gets dawned, the coldness gets warmer
I've seen your face before the dawn
and I've seen it in the darkest corner.
And there is no reason to look behind with the road still ahead
and there is no reason to try and find those things better left unsaid.

Adam and Eve, ours names shall inspire
our home will be the birth of laughter our lights getting brighter.
Where shall we go, and what shall we could we fear
our eyes are open the apple is bitten we shall keep what we hold as dear.

Sunday, June 18, 2017

Untitled Song in A

Everything dies and passes away shouldn't you know that it's true.
But since we are here and breathing today shouldn't we see it through.
Clowns paint tears on tracked faces the dancers aren't dancing at all.
Telephones ringing machines do the talking there's no one there to answer the call.

The music comes soft from the concert hall and and we don't have a care for anything at all
The angels are bitter but that how it goes, the saxophone player blows
a tune from the basement.

Your stack of cards makes a pretty house but you'd swear it's stronger than cardboard
Past meets future trivial here and nows, the present's an uncomfortable bore.
Jesus Christus, builds doghouses, he'll sell you one for a dollar
it protects you from the human monsoon, as long as you don't take off your collar.

Dodging traffic is everyone's business but the preacher's hoping that it's not endless.
Coloured schemed suits file in from the weather.
It doesn't get any better
always a coin away.
Visions are blurry but everyone talks, around the corner a dirty phone-booth walks
to an all night diner to ask for some change, people don't you think it's strange,
here you get used to it.

Your hair like a fire licks your face and you move with subtle grace.
Your eyes solve riddles, lips give solace
if you go it'll be a waste.
Flapping your wings against the chest of death, he holds you tightly by the heart
you've escaped with love for far too long now but you swear it's worth just a part.

Now you wait at the rendezvous
in your summer dress with a letter to
the stranger who made it hard for you
to stay inside your skin.
It's a tragic comedy.

And the voices of children echo through time
they are tinted with sorrow a particular kind
frozen but mobile dementia of love
we must be considerate of
the faces in the window.

Sunday, June 11, 2017

Coming to Terms

The night floats by in time like an escaped balloon explores and soars in the air.
Dreams rebound off the wants and the needs of the child that lives inside.
Drifting there through the early hours priming for the day,
when all desire meets an end by either coming true or flying away.