Sunday, September 27, 2009

Not Quite a Church, Maybe a BathHouse.

Suckin' too hard on ya lollipop,
Oh love's gonna get ya down.

Mika is a true guilty pleasure. He's painfully happy and bouncy but infectious. Even his serious more somber songs don't annoy or seem trite. Sadly he only makes it to NY once a year. This year it is on October 16th and I will be there. If you can get yourself a ticket, he is the best performer I have ever seen, and that is saying a lot.

This is one of my favorite Mika songs. He just released a new album and I was sure this would be one it,(mostly because in concert he announced it would be.) However, it isn't. It makes me sad and annoyed, so this live version will have to do.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Dum Vita Est Spes Est

The universe takes care of me.

I stumbled on this poem a few years ago, and have been trying to remember it all day. I finally found the text, so here it is.


Tonight I Can Write

I can write the saddest lines tonight.

Write for example: ‘The night is fractured
and they shiver, blue, those stars, in the distance’

The night wind turns in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
I loved her, sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like these I held her in my arms.
I kissed her greatly under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could I not have loved her huge, still eyes.

I can write the saddest lines tonight.
To think I don’t have her, to feel I have lost her.

Hear the vast night, vaster without her.
Lines fall on the soul like dew on the grass.

What does it matter that I couldn’t keep her.
The night is fractured and she is not with me.

That is all. Someone sings far off. Far off,
my soul is not content to have lost her.

As though to reach her, my sight looks for her.
My heart looks for her: she is not with me

The same night whitens, in the same branches.
We, from that time, we are not the same.

I don’t love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the breeze to reach her.

Another’s kisses
on her, like my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body, infinite eyes.

I don’t love her, that’s certain, but perhaps I love her.
Love is brief: forgetting lasts so long.

Since, on these nights, I held her in my arms,
my soul is not content to have lost her.

Though this is the last pain she will make me suffer,
and these are the last lines I will write for her.

Pablo Neruda

Wednesday, September 9, 2009


Nothing endures but change.

Things do not change; we change.
Henry David Thoreau

Heraclitus would have us all in the flames, and Thoreau would have changed his mind already, but would claim that was the point.

Either way, they're both right. As far as I'm concerned the world is our own perceptions. The way we interact with our lives dictates the path, and finally the outcome. Even if a piano drops on your head, you made some choice to put you under it.

I'm no good at change. It scares me. But, it is when I am making changes that I am the happiest. I think it may be time for something to give. What, I don't know, but something.