•May 14, 2011 • Leave a Comment

“The usefulness of a cup lies in its emptiness.”

I Have a Couple Beer in the Fridge…

•May 10, 2011 • Leave a Comment

And it just starts off as the times when you really connect with people, and when the seed of emptiness creeps into your everyday you seek out those connections more forcefully, and you learn the ebb and flow of what seems like a world that has always been there, with people who know everything, and you can’t see that it’s a small world that’s always, always changing; the limits like the tides. And then after a while those connections don’t seem to happen as much, and you see the people who seem like they’ve been around forever, but haven’t been around as long as you, making connections in their slick kind of way with collared shirts and nice shoes, and then you start doing it just as a way to seek those connections, and you keep a healthy supply of the right things in your fridge and you have the right things in your living room and you create a whole world for yourself around trying to make these connections, but by the time you realize that whenever anyone disturbs that superficiality, the superficiality that you created merely to facilitate meaningful connections, you realize in your irritation that you had it backwards, and it was the superficiality of the idea of creating meaningful connections that allowed you to take the banality of having nice looking stuff to its full form and it is that banality that has become you. Such that when you meet someone who is actually wonderful and you invite her back to your immaculate condo living room and you open the fridge to perfect rows of the right amount of food to booze ratio, and as she takes a beer, mentally you have already left the success of the situation behind, because, mentally, you are now concerned with having to replace that beer to make the rows perfectly even again.

Things are not facts

•April 21, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Things are not facts.
Logic is a language game
The world is the totality of language games
Combinations of language games are language leagues
Pragmatics is a language game to bridge seemingly incommensurable language games
This is how the world is
This is how the mind is
Madness is the coexistence of conflicting language games
Madness is a fact
Madness is a combination of facts
Madness is never wrong
Art is a language game
Art is a language accessible in a madness language game that can’t access words
The rhizome is the creation of a language game
Language games spiral out infinitely
Language games are beautiful
Language games can produce ugly facts
Biology is a language game
Language games function biologically
Evolution is a language game
Sometimes a new language game merges what was previously two language games
This is what is called innovation
Innovation produces a fact from facts
This is a fact

Being Watched

•March 26, 2011 • Leave a Comment

They saw what happened and thought they could control it and what we got was a generation of people who for their whole lives have had it drilled into their heads day in and day out, day after long and boring day, that the days have to be long and boring because your resume needs to be whatever and you need to be able to say some bullshit and nobody will want to hire a total loser and basically for our entire existence we’ve been told that what all of us were going to necessarily turn into, that is to say flawed people, is the worst thing in the world, but there is a way to con other people into thinking you are perfect and you’ll supposedly get a job and an office and a car and whatever because that’s what we’re supposed to want because that leads us to relying on products and services that are cheap to make and sell, when if we don’t go down that route we end up realizing we don’t really need any of that bullshit and that it is really easy to live without a car, without a mortgage, on black beans, chick peas, rice and green tea and all that shit they told you your whole life was just flat out wrong, flat out fear for the unknown, They didn’t know what was going to happen, nobody knows now, you and me both, so fuck it we can at the very least make it interesting because we can be damn sure this idea of making it boring is horrible for all involved and didn’t achieve anything.

And to me it starts with the immediate halt of this bullshit motivation by fear that always starts the same way, if you don’t shape up you’ll end up pumping gas for a living. Well guess what, just because someone pumps gas for a job doesn’t reflect on how interesting and valuable they are as a person, that I started reading Tolstoy, and then literature in general, because one of the smartest people I’ve ever met who has great taste in literature, was talking about how Anna Karenina was better than War & Peace, and I couldn’t participate in what seemed like an interesting conversation, the kind of conversation I wanted to participate in, and I realized at that moment that despite my having gotten a philosophy degree that in itself was bullshit, it did not fulfil some condition whereby I would be seen as interesting by everyone everywhere I went because I wrote a couple papers rearticulating Spinoza and Plato and the like, not even realizing still then that Plato wrote tongue firmly in cheek and is in fact the greatest satirist to have ever lived, but they don’t even bother teaching you that at university anymore, I mean seriously, so despite my swagger I had nothing to contribute to this moment of interesting conversation and that was what it all really ends up being about anyway, it’s kind of like what Judd Apatow said once, that when you’re thirty no one cares how good you are at softball, so just hang in there. Well unfortunately for yours truly, that also works in the negative when you’ve been convinced that people do care how good you are at softball, or philosophy or whatever, when they will actually care how good you are at the moment. So anyway, the long and the short of it is that I was motivated to read Anna Karenina and War & Peace and in the end fully disagreed with the position presented to me by the guy who worked at a gas station, about a year and a half too late (did I mention I had to leave the continent and dry out before I could start reading anything, so it took a while before I could even start either book), and after 19 years of formal education the most motivating literary force in my life worked at a gas station and I started to question a lot of other values that have been drilled into my head and I am now terrified of our whole school system, that if it were in a culture outside our own we would scream bloody murder about the indoctrination of the poor kids, that they’re force fed meat and dairy, they are told the Government is trustworthy (do they still teach that, even after Harper?), that the world is fundamentally pure and honest and if we go about it that way we will eventually succeed, and at no point were we told what the crushing sadness of self-awareness can do to the psyche when you realize that everything they’ve told you has been highly manipulative for a purpose you may not believe in. I have no doubt kids would be better off if they got to play Catan for a couple hours everyday then sitting in their desks quietly for 19 years in a row. How much time across 19 years in the classroom do you think kids are 100% present in what they’re doing? Regardless of your ideals of what it should be or whatever, how much of their time do you think they’ve spent in the moment of the ideal you mean them to be in. To me the education system is the learning of escape. How can you mentally and physically escape the sheer mundanity of mandated sedation. And we’re living the consequences of a society that is well versed in escapism.

And I don’t give two fucks about your enlightenment, that the veil got lifted and you saw it for what it was and yes you went down that road and had all this superficial stuff and then you had your breakdown and found out that that stuff doesn’t mean shit and that it’s really about the people around you and the people around you are all the swarmy greaseball phonies, who in actual fact are all having this same realization about themselves in relation to you, but the “good” ones are the ones you happen to be able to communicate well enough to realize it together and then you can share the experience together, so pray this is the bilateral trajectory of your marriage or watch out, and then you hit this acceptance that you tried your best and you accept yourself and give yourself a great big hug and feel pleasant and get a cat or whatever and then you ride it out until you get cancer or whatever, but you’re super pleasant to your nurses and then death. I really don’t give two fucks because it all happened in your head and nothing of life consequence happened as a result, in fact what you presented was the biggest lie of all, the thought that by uncovering your prior misdeeds and having this turning point that you were now being honest when that supposed honesty was nothing more than an even bigger lie, because you’re actively talking about how real and honest you’re being, when it’s probably the most accurate to say that what actually happened, the unveiling, was the result of an inner death, the real you died on the inside, and you missed it. So, it’s more like the glorification of ignorance than it is honesty, not that there’s anything wrong with that in a way, but it definitely isn’t in any way more useful than my friend who like Tolstoy and worked at a gas station. You just own more stuff. That’s about as impressive as the lumpy white pimple on my forehead. Not to say I’m some fucking hero for having read a couple of books or whatever.

Somewhere in here is something about being watched. That we’re being watched, and increasingly so, and who’s watching is affecting what we do in a bad way, because essentially I’ve been convinced to constantly watching myself, and so I’m living life in the 3rd person, and this in itself isn’t always bad I guess except if for the long stretches when I hate myself and it feels like I’m getting my eyes clockwork-oranged open to be force fed my own life from a distance where actually taking control and doing anything about it is completely absurd. I’m pretty sure the thing to do, really and truly, is to go play frisbee in the park. That’s just me though. Unfortunately I don’t give two flying fucks about what I think about it all in my post-enlightened phase of bullshit that proceeded from my pre-enlightenment phase of bullshit and will be proceeded by my post-post-enlightenment phase of bullshit such that I might as well stop typing.

Waiting for tomorrow’s fiction

•February 2, 2011 • 2 Comments

Down in the basement, that’s all I know, down where all the hermits go. Down to where the air is stale, the smoke and dust and dark inhale a mighty breath of life and death, down in the ground the nightly dirtnap sounds of restless dreams and screams of all that is and was. Forget the will, forget the way, forget the gains of yesterday, now here today the darkness reigns, the jaundiced glow of candles casting only lighter shadows, the spines of books scattered across the shelves and floor below the ground, shadows dancing corpses on their graves. Knowledge is but frozen time, the frosty breath of what will never come to be but for these crippled shrines that live under the streets of time, these cold dark mines where fortunes found and told go unlived but for when the mind goes wandering up the stairs and out the door to find the stories left behind were truly real, and what I am meant to feel outside are empty shells, waiting for tomorrow’s fiction.

Under the lights

•January 30, 2011 • Leave a Comment

City finals, under the lights, beads of sweat dripping over eyes following the ball. Always know where the ball is. Always know where the man is. Darting eyes, back and forth back and forth, quick touch quick touch head up space through ball too far get back where’s my man what a shit dick quick sprint quick sprint, switch, cover, push the line, watch the corner fifty fifty shoulder first bad bounce quick sprint quick sprint cover between the ball and the man between the ball and the man too far steal it quick go go make a run find the space quick shout ball on the way big sprint ball’s too far get there get there scoring zone look to shoot look to shoot get there full shot PAIN. Shock. Mid-air, slow motion, upside down, ground. I didn’t see him coming from the side. He cracked me off on my fully extended leg at the knee. I flipped over and landed on its other side. I wouldn’t walk right for two years. He asked me if I was all right after the game. What a shit dick. I said I was fine. I fucking love soccer. It’s like life I guess, you never know when you’re going to get run over. That’s half the fun really.

Moments before the wind…

•January 29, 2011 • Leave a Comment

“Little solace comes

to those who grieve

as thoughts keep drifting

as walls keep shifting

and this great blue world of ours

seems a house of leaves,


moments before the wind.”


– From House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski

OwE It

•January 29, 2011 • Leave a Comment

I turned off the sidewalk into the narrow alley to get around back to my apartment, OwE It scrawled across the crumbling ochre bricks in perfunctory-black. Upper case Oh-how-clunky plastic framed glasses, a matted-brown sweater wearing lower case double-you, letter E combed hair, with a striped iceberg-blue collared I peaking out the neckhole, noosed with a useless-red lower case tee tie trapped and flapping in the wind.

The Back Step

•January 29, 2011 • Leave a Comment

The cop car came down and around the winding hill, tracing the snake on the mountain at the edge of the world, blue and red strobe lights flashing slaloms to the bottom, the ocean watching waves along the shore, the moon’s flashlight shining from twenty yards above, the city sleeping alibi but for me on the icy back step, my cigarette watching it all over top of the snow covered sheds and fences behind the houses on Prince of Wales Street, the great archer’s arrow finally pointing me back inside. I got in under two sheets, two duvets, two blankets, one sleeping bag, three sweaters and my beaten tan hand-me-down sheepskin coat, and I closed my eyes until I didn’t have to anymore.

The Oscars and the death of Hollywood

•March 8, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Maybe it was the economy, maybe it’s the new generation, maybe it’s reality everything, maybe it’s celebrity crotch shots and sex videos, but the Oscars was a stillborn and Hollywood died in the process, and I have gone for my morning cappuccino and was about to sit down in front of the tv with it, but I have no reason to.  There’s nothing there.  It’s so fucking boring.  Ads?  What the fuck is that all about?  “My thing is the best thing ever and you should buy it except I won’t do anything about my standing as a large corporation in a society who’s moral code is swayed by the market, and as the default leader in such a society I choose to do what is best for me, not society.”  I’m not playing anymore.  Can we get the old guard out and let in some people with compassion, like, all at once, revolution style.  Who’s with me?

They have sold us an awful lot of screens, but it’s time to turn them off.  Let’s be people again.  You really do have to turn off to tune in.  Dropping out isn’t a horrible idea either, depending.  Money owns academia too, and has been set up not to educate, but to create more job applicants than jobs, because the system must feed off of those who fail.  The monster has grown.

Wait, what was this about? Oh yeah, I totally need to do my laundry…

(brief timeout to have to go to two stores to find laundry detergent without perfumes or dyes that cost 11 dollars so I could then put my clothes in the wash)




It’s just life

•March 4, 2010 • Leave a Comment

They keep telling me I’m crazy,

for living in sin.

What I’m trying to tell you,

is it’s the same damn thing.

What time is it?

•March 3, 2010 • Leave a Comment

It’s so slow now. Before it was normal, but then we lived, we fucking LIVED…and now it’s slow.  If I live again, will it be slower?  A crawling death of a second as it becomes a minute of an hour of a day of a week of a month of a year of a decade of a lifetime in a flash.


•March 1, 2010 • Leave a Comment


Take 2

•February 21, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Sometimes words are only words,

One of those words is chance.

The only other thing I know,

Is Love’s more important than convenience.

Four grey walls and a door…part III

•February 19, 2010 • Leave a Comment

grey walls grey walls, the walls are everywhere.  I ran to the door, and for the first time saw the words etched on it.  “Everything is outside this door.  Everything is nothing.  Nothing is all things.  All things are one thing.”  I opened the door to the stars.  I started to float out the door and into the cosmos.  Saturn’s rings in all their glory holding tightly to the giant glowing orb.

I woke up on the floor.  The door was gone.  The walls were grey, but now somehow shimmering.  Waving, folding, bending in the waves of space and time, in tune with the vibrations of the all the little hearts in my heart, breathing with me.  I wasn’t alone anymore.  I experienced the crystallization of the oneness of all things in my beautiful grey world.  My beautiful world of four grey walls with no door.


Four grey walls and a door…part II

•February 12, 2010 • Leave a Comment

But what’s really out that door anyway?  A bunch of rich people who own a whole lot more poor people?  If it were one guy running the show he would be a tyrannical ruler like the ones we’re so intend on murdering, along with all their innocent civilians.  But since it’s a bunch of rich people who are all in on the joke, then it’s democracy and we’re obviously free.  Fuck them.  Fuck them and their money.  Fuck them and their promises.  They have enough money to convince enough people to do whatever it takes so that their position is never threatened.  They can be awfully convincing.  And it’s all just an extravagant magic show, layers upon layers of  misdirection in extravagance beyond our wildest imaginations.  Wars, economic meltdowns, medical emergencies, terrorism.  Just look at how threats to the power structure have been dealt with.  The best, I think, was the free love movement.  Free thinking people who are happy and capable of loving each other doesn’t work for the system.  Accessible drugs, a work force with job options, free love, that all had to crumble.  So they had a war, imported back heroin and created a reccession.  They killed some people, got drug users addicted to the worst drug to be addicted to ever, and killed off jobs.  And without proof but a gut feeling (wasn’t that enough for GWB?), I have a strong feeling that sexual diseases were a product of such scheming as well.  I think AIDS could be one of the worst genocides of all time.  I know it affects everyone, but you don’t think that there was a target, and that it was launched by a very very scared and homophobic group of threatened rich people who kill innocent civilians all the time all over the world?

Is this why they like family values?  Because people with families don’t have time to think about and organize opposition against how FUCKED everything is?  Fuck the people who think making extreme profits from pharmaceuticals and health care is more important than the health of the people.  Fuck the top 1% who get tax breaks, anywhere in the world.  Fuck the people who don’t believe the fix is in.  If it was fair, things would change over time.  BUT THEY ARE EXACTLY THE SAME.  Same wars, same distractions, same wealth disparity.  They have us believing in a system where a small minority of people have jets and mansions all over the world, who pay their way up to space, who have gold foyers and diamond phones, while others jsut don’t eat.  DON’T EAT!! NO FOOD!! It”s not like it’s that some people are a lot richer than other people, it’s that we have enough wealth to feed everybody, but some people would prefer to have diamond phones instead.  WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT???  I don’t care if they think they earned it.  They didn’t.  They didn’t earn the right to be so flagrantly inhuman.  Maybe when everybody has three meals a day, and somewhere to sleep, and don’t have to worry about their children being murdered in their sleep over an illegal war about wealth, maybe then we can talk about having the freedom to an open market.  But we need to FEED EVERYBODY first.

Four fucking grey walls and a door.  I went for the door again.  I saw my parents.  I yelled and ran again (have I not learned a lesson here?) to obviously wake up on the floor of a room with four grey walls and a door.

to be continued…

Four grey walls and a door

•February 10, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I awoke to find myself on the bare floor of an unfamiliar empty room.  The walls were grey brick, and while not perfectly symmetrical they were as boring as you might imagine.  I was inclined to be pretty upset about it, given that I didn’t know where I was, why I was anywhere different than where I usually was, moreover why I was anywhere different than the last place I remember being, i.e. MY OWN FUCKING BOUGHT AT WAL-MART GOOD OLD TRUSTY CAN FIT UP THE CRAMPED STAIRWAYS OF THE SMALL CHEAPLY RENTED APARTMENTS THAT I MOVED TO AND FROM WITH REGULARITY AND RELATIVE EASE BED-IN-A-BOX BED!!

As the absolute spirit crushing feeling of being lost violated my inner sense of self fully and completely, I considered that I should probably put aside my rage, if only for a moment, to consider my options which would hopefully lead to a triumphant return to my oh so comfortable wal-mart bed-in-a-box.

The only option that I thought was worth considering was the only thing in the room that wasn’t a grey brick wall…the door.  I stood up, and with some weary trepidation and cautious glancing I slowly made my way toward it.

There was no window nor keyhole to give me any kind of glimpse beyond the doorway.  It was a grey door, like the ones in police station interrogation rooms on tv, with a spherical silver handle and dead bolt latch.  I put my hand on the handle, hesitated, and slowly turned it and pulled the door open ever so slightly.  I instantly recognized d_____ street, part of the core of the small downtown in the city I grew up in.  It was a sunny day, barely the faintest haze of a cloud hanging out in front of a so blue it was too blue to be real sky that you get in the height of summer.  I stepped out the door not really sure what the room was about or how I had gotten there, but it wouldn’t have been the first time a night getting liquored on g____ street didn’t find me waking up in an unfamiliar room.  The door slammed shut behind me and d_____ street disappeared.

I was instantly waking up again, and my eyes darted around suspiciously as I was a bit nervous to move, I deduced that I was in the same room I thought I had just left.

*                                                                                                      *                                                                                                             *

What the fuck is up?  If that had just been a dream, then this was also a dream, maybe?  I considered the possibility of it being a lucid dream.  I closed my eyes and focused as intently as I knew how, which probably isn’t very much, but how do you know that kind of thing?  She didn’t show up.  If it was a lucid dream it wasn’t going to be a good one.  I tried again and looked up at the door in the corner, half expecting the handle to start to turn as she entered.  But she didn’t, of course she didn’t.

I got up and went for the door again.  I didn’t really think about it other than I thought what had just happened was pretty weird, granted, but nothing stranger than what often happened to me.  I opened the door and looked out, and there she was.

Everything stopped.  I stopped breathing.  My eyes stopped blinking.  My mind stopped thinking….and I can’t be sure, but I’d put down strong money that my heart actually really and truly stopped beating because when she started to walk across the street and I had to snap back to reality I took on breath, beats and racing thoughts like a freshly cpr resuscitated drowning victim lurching up frantically from the dead.  I shouted out to her as I bolted from the door…

To find myself waking up on the floor of a grey room with four grey walls, a grey ceiling, and a door.

to be continued…

Wernher von Braun

•February 10, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I just started Gravity’s Rainbows by Thomas Pynchon.  He opens with the following quote by Wernher von Braun,

“Nature does not know extinction; all it knows is transformation.  Everything science has taught me, and continues to teach me, strengthens my belief in the continuity of our spiritual existence after death.” 

I thought this was interesting enough to find out who von Braun is.  As it happens, he was the most distinguished rocket scientist of the 20th century, and the U.S. would not have made it to the moon without him.  I’m just saying, for everyone I see claiming to be a religious follower of science, this dude is the Chuck Norris of scientists.  Just saying…

I need to be told this every day

•February 8, 2010 • Leave a Comment

It’s all a hilariously wacky adventure

Where is this place?

•February 8, 2010 • Leave a Comment

These are starting to sound like diary entries, so I need to get to the point.  Dear internet: I’m frustrated with life, or rather the political structures that guide our lives.  I want to live in a place that values people above money.  I want to live in a place that values personal freedom.  I want to live in a place that values justice.  I want to live in a place that values the laws of both science and spirituality.  I want to live in a place that values each and every person as the product of a life lived.  I want to live in a place that accepts the result of its people as its own responsibility.  I want to live in a place that values feeding all of its people above all other things.  I want to live in a place that considers people to be sacred, rather than a functional component of the economy.  I feel that a place that favours these kinds of things, ultimately fully respecting the individual, that the individuals in that place will respect each other.  I am frustrated with life, not because of the balance of chemicals in my brain, or because I’m not rich, but because I feel that there is nothing that I can contribute in a place where to contribute I need to enhance the economy.  I feel like I should have a meaningful thing to do in a place that matters; but this place we live in doesn’t matter.  We don’t need more stuff.  That new thing will soon be an old thing.  We need a radical shift from putting the big economic picture first, to the person first.  In a place that runs on greed, selfishness, individuality and excess, it will be reflected in the people.  I want to live in a place that runs on the things that makes people great.

Seriously though

•February 7, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I’m doubting my value as I go to bed after a saturday night of watching tv and playing video games by myself.  What exactly is my worth to anyone or anything on a day by day basis?  When I do try and accomplish things it is usually self-improvement only.  What’s the point?

The fucking world and stuff…I guess

•February 4, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Well, I finished The Dancing Wu Li Masters, by Gary Zukav, and had my mind blown, but I also quit smoking, which is making me want to blow my head off.  Somehow those two thing didn’t counteract into me, I dunno, succeeding…at something.  Ok, so particles can go back in time and also communicate without being connected, so, like, long distance telepathy, among other things.  Zukav gets into this stuff, but then at the end he subtly backs off and calls it all random.  Random??!!! Are you FUCKING kidding me??  After the levels of complexity and NECESSITY that he demonstrates for the whole world to even EXIST, he says it’s based on randomness…I quit smoking at the wrong time because the whole world’s fucking nuts.  Is he scared some physicist is going to call him religious or something if he says that all the crazy interconnected stuff that makes sense when put up against the wisest shit ever transcendentally meditated about is…interconnected?  Your mind is only limited to what you limit it to.  Your mind is the world.  The world has infinite possibilities, if we let our minds go there, but it will take the community.  So we’re fucked.  Maybe I’ll be less cranky tomorrow.  “I said TWO PIECES of carry on!!”

One of those days

•February 1, 2010 • Leave a Comment

All of this being said, I’m really questioning the point of it all right now.  I can moan about the state of all things and wallow in self-importance/pity/loathing, but for what?  I’m looking for meaning, and wondering if I had my eyes closed for too long, and I’m wondering what road signs I missed, and as I’m stuck trying to find out in near desperation I think I’m just another good-for-nothing narcissist who thinks there’s something wrong with the world because they’re not in control of it all.  It’s completely irrelevant.  Once in a while, in the height of summer, on a warm sunny day when there’s nothing that needs doing but to lie in the heat among a few good friends, that those days even exist, maybe that’s it.  And to want more is just greed no better than the greed I’m whining about.

The veil

•January 31, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I was just watching the moon, barely over the horizon.  It was a brilliant mystic yellow, veiled by thin black clouds, and nine power lines.

The thing is, you do know

•January 30, 2010 • Leave a Comment

You know everything, you just aren’t conscious of it.  To clear the conscious mind is to get access to the infinity of everything.


•January 30, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I’ve been keeping this as a writing exercise, and I find it blatantly obvious when I feel like writing, and when I force myself too.  I apologize for you have been reading some really mediocre posts.  I love you, not because you’re here, just because you are.  On a side note, Einstein says we are three dimensional in a four dimensional world.  This has been proven.  Yikes.

Once upon a time

•January 27, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Swirling colour ghosts twisting through orchestral waves

Rolling, crashing on the jagged cliffs we know

Misting, floating, free and falling

Explosions of what is

Into what isn’t

In a breath.


An eternal all knowing tear of perfection

Still, hanging, hovering in the space between time

Until you unfreeze, exhale, turn on the lights and smash the slit of reality into oblivion

On will

•January 25, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Anyone can.

To have never written at all

•January 24, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Sometimes I read these posts and I really don’t like how some of them ended up.  That being said, I guess it’s better to have written badly than to have never written at all.

Sun Kil Moon

•January 23, 2010 • Leave a Comment

If you have anyone in your life with whom you drop ALL of your defences, you accept entirely, and they accept you, not so much consciously as just what happens as a product of your togetherness? Well for one, you’re lucky, if you believe in things like luck.  Nothing in life has to do with the pretense that goes on ninety eight % of the time and it’s these kinds of experiences that can snap a person into seeing the horizon of life.  I have this, but I don’t, if you know what I mean, so find myself feeling bleak a lot of the time knowing I’m without it, wandering the hilarious cold blue alleys of every other kind of relationship.

Anyway, there’s a point to this.  I had all of my Sun Kil Moon deleted months ago in a tragic external to laptop file sharing disaster.  Well, I’ve just been reunited, and I realized that I have the same reaction to them as mentioned above.  It’s not that I think they’re literally the best, there are better guitarists, better songwriters, better hooks, breaking it down in categories.  It’s just as a whole I love it, I accept it, I know there are flaws but I can’t actually hear them.