I'm back!
Yes, it's awful, I know.
Hey! A poem!
P.S.
I reserve the right to publish this.

We walked along the edge of the pond

to see if we could spot any fish.

This is all new: the sidewalk

the lights.
You hold onto a tree

I stand where the grass

slopes down

is engulfed by the water

surrounded by it

grass

slowly merging and twining with other plants

more suited to their environment.

You watch

I look

and don’t see anything.

And then, there it is

big fish

not really that big, but bigger than expected

pale, white

a ghost

a cylinder

maybe I could kill it if I threw a rock hard enough

or maybe it would just dart away.

There it is I tell you.

Big Fish.

We watch it

swimming with other ghosts.

Sufjan Stevens and punk rock.
There. I said it.
Are there, maybe, some similarities between some of the British punk, around, you know, 1977, and ol' Suf, both especially and starting in the "Michigan"-era stuff? I mean, they're both coming out of economically depressed areas. Isn't "Detroit, Lift Up Your Weary Head" as much of a call to arms as, say, "Guns of Brixton?" They're both attempts to forge some sort of identity, to take control of national or regional identity, i.e, "God Save The Queen," "London Calling," naming two albums after States. Economic depression and the class system in Britain (I'm over simplifying, of course), and economic depression and a war with much of it's currency based on one idea of what America is.
Besides, aren't the Stooges from Detroit?

Callooh! Callay!

If your not listening to Callooh! Callay!'s album Sassprilluh Champagne, you're really missing out. It's not that it haunts you. That's not quite it. It just... follows you. Sticks with you. You find yourself singing it at odd moments, and puzzling over it in the middle of the night.

The Golden Compass

The Golden Compass is on USA, a great movie, very unfairly boycotted by Christians of all stripes. Philip Pullman, the author of the trilogy the movie is based upon does, indeed, say that the books are "non-Christian," and inversion of Paradise Lost. Be that as it may, the movies remove the theology from the books. It's not a vast liberal theology to attack religion; Hollywood isn't stupid, it's one vast open conspiracy to make money. They're not going to alienate a vast portion of their audience, unless there's money in it. And there's probably not (remember, this isn't an Oscar-bait movie). Especially after these midterm elections.
But, as I was saying, the movie is great. It's such a shame it failed financially. I'd love to see the take on the later books in the series.
The books, on the other hand, have always been morally problematic for me. Not the over-arching message. People can say whatever they want, and there's some good stuff in the books. No, the big problem for me is the death of Lyra's friend Roger. Lord Azrael kills him to get the other world, infuriating Lyra. Yet, in later books, the issue seems completely paved over. Azrael is one of the good guys, and Lyra decides to do all she can to help him. In order to achieve what he achieves, which, in the context of the novels is "good", Lord Azrael murders a child, tearing away his soul. This seems monstrous to me, far more than the end justifies the means. Yes, one may argue, Lyra and Roger are the true heroes of the story. And, indeed, fair enough. But Azrael is one of the heroes. Azrael's battle sets Lyra on her path. And Azrael is a monstrous murderer. Even after meeting her friend in Hades, or Sheol, or whatever miserable afterlife the books provide, Lyta seems to forget that Azrael is a killer.
It's always troubled me

Next time: Sufjan Stevens and punk rock!

just kidding in that last CrAppy post nothing is wrong Life is Lovely everyTHing is Excellent i love my Pleasant Only girLfrIend so much CostErnation would fall upon me if I didn't

I've been coughing up phlegm for the last couple of days. It's pretty cool, I guess, because it's coming from the dark, scary recesses of my lungs and I don't usually see anything from in there. It's also a little dangerous because sometimes one is not in an area conducive to spitting out a wad of phlegm. I suspect that if I swallow enough phlegm, it will cause me to throw up. So I let it sit in my mouth until it dissolves. Or I show my girlfriend. She says she needs a break. Usually I laugh but last time she got up, went to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and plunged into the couch about three inches from my leg.

I've finally figured out what's holding me back from becoming a hipster. It's these damn glasses.