Arcade Fire- Neighborhood #3 (Power out)
What brings you they ask
a simple answer I reply
The one’s I love bring me to this place
Where my heart feels at home
Comforted opposed to alone
We have all been alone
Even though often we’re not
In moments we seem to fear
There are days when we wish certain things were near
But in lengths of time passing
We are reminded that certain things are everlasting
Transcending space and time
Bringing us together- if only in heart and mind
Remember we have eachother
Even in the toughest times
Remember who would miss you
If tomorrow you were gone
Imagine your funeral
Packed with all those you thought you did not have
Imagine their faces- when your spirit didn’t last
It certainly isn’t easy
And that is why we have eachother
Believe in the choices you make
They define who you are
Believe in the life you have made
Without it- how easily we scar
The world will always breed doubt
We need not reinforce such a burden
Winter brings cold nights
Do not let it wear your soul
Let passion- and those who love- guide you to better days
Count the ways
Picture the faces
Comforted by your life
Offer your hand, even your heart-
Remind them, like they have reminded you
Embrace those who will always be there
Appreciate the goodness
Fight the despair
Truly good things- aren’t so rare
Apparent is hope
Present is relief
Only one life
No sense being consumed with grief
40 minutes to kill
this void to fill
never been able to find it in a pill
may have tried
may have died
maybe this is just punishment for another life
maybe I failed- maybe I fled
Left something that mattered- looking too far ahead
It seemed certain to be better
At least different
Run for miles to find you havn’t moved an inch
They told me it was the definition of insanity
But how could such clarity be suitable for the insane?
Nothing is insane- in-evtable- I’d believe that
35 minutes left
Exhault another breath from my chest
So long this heart has been at rest
Not a risk- hardly anything- hardly anything..
A different tune could beat
A different drum from different bands could be
Something unexplained- unexpected-
Even something beautiful.
Not like the beauty you know, that would be too simple
Hard to go there- this reality- our? reality- or just my, perception.
Good things seems to hide under the radar of perception- or maybe just appreciation
It’s different. Than what?
30 minutes. Until another tick tocks- this work days stops- and the part of my life that I enjoy resumes
Leave this part in the ruins
That is why I must write it out
Like walking out an injury
Get it out of me
Until there is no more
Out the door- minus the baggage
Leave it behind- never to find- never to care
That is what is different.
Different than you.
Yesterday you felt connected by a mutual hopelessness
hardly a connection
rather shared infection
the exception to the rule
the acceptance of lethargic rule
Sure it is easy to be passionate.
But what happens when the passion is for not- what have you got?
Feel the fire- need something to.. feel again
Seek the pain- test your thresholds
Dance above and below your limits- forget to resist- instead persist
challenge defiance- release your reliance on practical control
Lose the whole-
Why still be concerned with this end goal
Mutual burial in the hole-
In the earth
in the ground
only memory in sound
of Suits and overdressed crying
To themselves- to all in witness
For what? God. each other? difficult to say.
Bow their heads and pray,
maybe just think of the light they left on in the kitchen
or what they’re going to make for dinner.
Can’t blame them.
We are self sustaining creatures.
I am me- you you- nothing else.
Interrupted by the reminder that life comes and goes- takes and grows
Into, and out of- nothing.
Not a thing we can do to change it.
Change existence- or our need to define it?
To find meaning in questions. So many questions.
A trail of bread crumbs leading to the gingerbread house in Transylvania
A small cover…/ vast cover for our insecurity- fear of being/dying alone
There are no double coffins.
Only double beds.
Sleep in the ones you make-
especially the ones you take.
In death- in passing-
What does the obituary say?
He was loved? He had a good job, he will be missed.
Tell a story of the first time I tripped acid
Or got the shit kicked out of me by my older brother.
Give them/me something real.
An ounce/chance to be remembered, not like heroes/villians are remembered
This is hardly an ode to joy- ode to anything
A means to and end
My words shall lend
A compliant partner in crime
For the very first time
A man admitting he is healthy and insane
Keeps his straight jacket under his suit
Like Clark Kent
Waiting for you
Where is this army of insane and empowered?
When will it be our hour to leash out against the plain and uncorrupted?
Why must the religious and political and exceptional maintain such control?
They are the minority
How many people do you know that don’t drink or steal or burn or snort or go to church or school or work or or or or
there is no defintition of our kind
we are- everyone
Yet still we pretend to be that which we are not
Hindered by childrens stories in a book that should have been placed with Dr. Suis only lacking such intelligence
Pile into your pews
Please everyone sit for the news
They have all gathered
From every land
Just to see that they are not the only ones
I have told them yet they still demand more
Our american way
Our human way
the most dangerous game.
Passing by- passing time-just another silly rhyme
Words we say- words we phrase- pointless dribble, every day
What’s the point- what’s the reason- is there a single breath, you have believed in?
From thought to conception- creation to reception- ever think of letting go?
Sure they would know- but knowing is hardly caring, one less routine in which to be staring
Free them of your waste- let them forget the taste- no longer ask them to count the ways
Forget the fix- forget this- only romantics wish for a kiss
Fuck a wish- especially one for a kiss- imagine the reality that you’ll miss
Forget the well- farewell to the star- wish my ass- wish a scar
The romance is fading-
no more sweet serenade, emotion-elating
Just empty words- characters one through 26-
still nothing you will miss
Count nothing but the wasted seconds that continue to tick
another- and another-
there must be something out there to miss-
why won’t you click
what is it you expect?
the x is just a click away
yet you continue to stay
intentionally wasting your time-
like you have wasted mine.
how many seconds have gone by
punishing yourself with a drug that comes without a high
romanticism is but another ism-
of your own heart
your own soul
——- these words-
Tampa Bay Rays vs Philadelphia Phillies
Cole Hamels vs @ Scott Kazmir
Hamels has been lights out this postseason, 3-0 with an era in the low 1’s. The Phillies are hot coming off a 4-1 NLCS over the Dodgers, and are hardly phased that much of the sports nation has the Rays as the favorite. With consecutive mvps, and quite likely a third on the way in Ryan Howard, the Phillies match the Rays in team speed, power, and ability to defend. Hamels and Myers stand strong atop the rotation, but it falls off quickly giving the Rays the clear edge in starting pitching.
Vegas, in an effort to make up for the long shot odds given to the Rays back in April to win the world series, has made the Rays the Favorite hoping the sports nation would bet against them to dampen the severity of the finanacial blow which has been delivered this post season. The Rays have drawn striking comparisons to the 86 Mets. They are young, charismatic, and represent the emobidement of a collegiate team making a run at Omaha. With their mohawks, commradery, and fearless yet nurchering leader in Joe Madden at the Helm. The Rays have the best starting rotation in the Bigs, and as of late, with rookie sensation David Price emerging as a reliable late inning stopper- no longer surrender an advantage to the fightin phills in the pen.
Look for BJ Upton, who got shammed out of the alcs mvp, and Longoria to continue their torrid pace, and carry this long shot to the top. Upton is in contention for the most homeruns in a single postseason, currently held by Barry Bonds, with 8 in 2004.
This will be the best world series since 2003, when the Marlins defeated the Yankees. Philadephia has the 4tth largest television market, while Tampa/St. Petersberg is the 13th, resulting in low projections for ratings, but with a great chance at seeing six or seven games, I believe this series will prevail as one of the most viewed in the last 10 years. Baseball is America’s pastime, and each of these teams represent what is great about our country, the under dog, the transormation of impossible, to likely.
The Rays will win in 6 games. Look for Chase Uttley and Ryan Howard to struggle against the left handed Kazmir, and Rays Bullpen, yet still play key roles with success facing Garza, and Shields.
Game one will be the thesis statement for this series.
Tonight will be the stage for two of the games most promising young left handed arms.
Baseball will be played the right way. Expect a national league style of play, base hits, stolen bases, pitching, and defense.
The long ball will play a factor, but if either team depends on it, it will be their downfall.
Will Charlie Manuel and the Phillies bring the city of brotherly love their first title since the 76’ers in 1983?
Or will the Tampa Bay Rays do the impossible? Just one season removed from dead last. Last Sept. 4, a
“crowd” of 9,112 watched the Tampa Bay Devil Rays lose to Baltimore, 8-4, and fall 27 games behind first
with loss No. 82 that ensured an imperfect 10 — 10 consecutive losing seasons, most of them spent in the
American League East cellar.
My money’s on the raise- but a great series is a safe bet.
She falls from a tree- like an autumn leaf
Limitless and free- dancing to the ground
Moving with the sound of the howeling breeze
She make’s me tremble- right down through my knees
Dancing without hesitation- bound by no reservation
She blows in the wind- traveling this way and that
Free from burden- if I have a say in that
Her hair wild- bronze and weightless
How life does change- yet somehow I still wait for this
Without certainty or determination
Maybe just a simple fascination
I’d rather believe in something great- even if in time it will dissapate
Perhaps the days passing will make such romanticsim out of fashion
But with the sun’s rise- the opening of my eyes- I know this smile is not a disguise
Like a child- like a feather– silly, unburdened, something to treasure
Destiny is nothing more than happenstance- but belief gives any long-shot a chance
Reach for a hand- if only in the distance
Ask once more- does she dare to resist this
We reach- we seek- our hearts- they meek
A game we play- these words we say- perhaps just a house made hay
No end in sight- or certainty tonight- hard to say if any of this is right
A leaf you are- a leaf you fall- maybe I can catch you after all
Without reason– without cause- I chase and hope, you are not lost
Seasons will change- like your colors
But a leaf’s a leaf- and I may always admire
Perhaps without reason- perhaps without chance-
Content knowing, I reached for your hand to dance.
This is a story I like to call Packey Bush.
Packey, or Patrick Bush grew up on the culdesack on Windmill Lane, roughly five houses down from mine. In our neighborhood child community of Willow Farms, we frequented to such games as kickball, pickle, football and night tag. Packey had been a friend of mine for as long as he lived in the former household of my current roommate Dave. We were close friends, often sleeping over at one anothers house, trading baseball cards, and naturally bickering over the trivial things that almost youngens seem to but heads over.
The commons were the backdrop for our usual night’s consumption of capture the flag. We divided into two teams, with no man’s land as a neutral ground connecting each border. Often there were arguments resulting from the judgment call of whether an individual was on the opposition’s boundary, or in no man’s land. In this particular instance Packey and myself were disputing this very scenario. The argument grew heated and turned into a shoving contest. We were in middle school at the time and such behavior was only natural with our growing testosterone levels, and hardly isolated to this particular incident.
Cursing feverishly I shoved Packey for the third or fourth time, only this time rather than responding with a push, he used the flashlight in his hand otherwise deemed for flag finding utility, to smash my glasses and face in. Without a moments transition our shoving match had me laid out, glasses shattered, in shock over over the transpiring events.
Before I had a chance to respond- Packey moved in for the second violent flashlight bearing blow to my face. While processing the moments events, blood poured from cuts throughout my face, and I was ready to make an attempt at self defense. Placing hands on ground, while in an effort to stand, Packey delivered a swift kick to my kidney, halting my rise to defense. IN the process I was able to land a right handed hook to his eye- before collapsing once more to the earth.
Without another moments passing- he bolted off into the distance. By then the remainder of the group, our friends had gathered and come to my assitance. The event happened so fast that many were still flag seeking- unaware of any altercation.
Packey ran to a nearby neighbors house where our collected parents were enjoying the evening. Unaware of the nights events- my parents witnessed a tear filled Packey with a soon to be black eye desperately seeking his parents comforting.
One of the witlessness’ house was parallel with the commons. He ran and got his father to tend to my aid.
The following Monday morning I walked with slightly more anticipation to the bus stop with vengeance on the agenda. I haven’t mentioned it but I am not a little guy. Today I am 6’7- and It didn’t all come over night. In an honest fight between Packey and myself, let’s just say it wouldn’t be very honest. This is why it came as no surprise that the cowardice asshole didn’t ride the bus on that particular Monday, in fact- he didn’t even come to school.
Needless to say Packey’s and my relationship did not extend passed this particular night of capture the flag in the commons. I slightly hesitate to make this connection- but I think it strongly supports that you get what you give in this lifetime, otherwise known as karma. Years later Packey was in a terrible car accident- summoning him to a wheel chair for several months thereafter. He was not permanently handicapped, but without a doubt irrevocably touched by the hand of fate.