the fall

there's a lot of stuff that happens over the fall that just can't be explained because all that makes sense of it is the leaves turning brown and orange and red like they're on fire. a kind of quiet burning. the summer saying goodbye and turning into winter, etc. pumpkins getting carved up and lit under and kids kicking them across the yard dressed up as skeletons. things don't necessarily make sense. why do we dress up in witch costumes or dance around fires or drink our cider listening to creepy halloween music? what's universal about fall experience? not the cold. not the leaves. not halloween. it's just another time of the year. depending on where you're at, you may or may not even know the difference between fall and spring. fall's a dying time. it's when the trees shed their leaves and become hands grasping at the sky. it's when things quiet down for the interminable silence which blankets every little affair in winter. the last days when you can walk around outside without feeling used up. it's the tip of the glass for apollo or zeus before the grand moveable feast that wastes us every december--when the legions of corporate america assemble to pull, twist the arm of the american populace till it screams bloody mercy let me go.

exploitation, tired experience. all of it's vanity and striving after the wind. better to sprout fur and claws and run naked under the moon away from everything else if you can. but you can't. we can't. tired fancy. that's what life is. enjoy. it ages poorly, I hear. enjoy it while you've got it.

Gospel

I can't stop listening to this song by The National:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=esKU7wx2Iww

GOSPEL
I got two armfuls of magazines for you
I’ll bring em over
so hang your holiday rainbow lights in the garden
hang your holiday rainbow lights in the garden and I’ll
I’ll bring a nice icy drink to you

Let me come over I can waist your time I’m bored
Invite me to the war every night of the summer
and we’ll play G.I. blood, G.I. blood
we’ll stand by the pool
we’ll through out our golden arms

Darlin can you tie my string
killers are callin on me
my angel face is fallin
feathers are fallin on my feet
Darlin can you tie my string
killers are callin on me

Stay near your, stay near your television
Set it up outside
and hang your holiday rainbow lights in the garden
hang your holiday rainbow lights in the garden and I’ll
I’ll bring a nice icy drink to you

Let me come over I can waist your time I’m bored
Invite me to the war every night of the summer
and we’ll play G.I. blood, G.I. blood
we’ll stand by the pool
we’ll through out our golden arms

Darlin can you tie my string
killers are callin on me
my angel face is fallin
feathers are fallin on my feet
my angel face is fallin
feathers are fallin on my feet
Darlin can you tie my string
killers are callin on me
Darlin can you tie my string
killers are callin on me

The 2007 Oscar Wildes

The listing for the 2007 Oscar Wildes--that is, the songs that I got into that I couldn't stop listening to.

The Apocalypse Song St. Vincent
Bodysnatchers Radiohead
Changes Come Over the Rhine
Darkness Peter Gabriel
Full Circle Loreena McKennitt
Glorious Muse
I Don't Know How To Say Goodbye To You Sam Phillips
Imitosis Andrew Bird
Intervention The Arcade Fire
Little Bombs Aimee Mann
Overture Patrick Wolf
Psalm 69 {Looking For God} Sons Of Korah
Strays Hem
The Tourist Radiohead
Useless Desires Patty Griffin
Yesterdays Switchfoot

A Tank Full of Sharks

An excerpt from a piece I wrote for Novella Class.

Age 10 – Michael’s House

Michael and I went over to his house at about three just after school and he stopped just before turning the front door handle and told me to be quiet. I had a cold but I held it in the best I could and we snuck through the dark-wooded front hall. It had an old green shag carpet and Chinese vases but it smelled really strange, like plastic. The floor creaked which I guess happens a lot in big old houses like Michael’s and I heard a noise from the back room.

“Mikey? That you?” It was a scratchy woman’s voice and it pricked my ears like pine needles. It was weird. Michael looked wide-eyed at me and then shouted yes.

“Well, can you come back here for a second? I’ve gotta show you something.” Michael motioned me up the stairs while he shuffled through a heavy wooden arch with carvings like trees. I made my way up, trying my best not to let the stairs creak although it was very difficult being fat and walking up old stairs. I reached the top, keeping my eyes fixed on the stairs so much that I ran head-first into a large white belly. It belonged to an old guy who had grey hair and his face was painted like a clown. A sad clown who used to be crying. He burped and looked at me blearily. I saw a can of beer in his hand and tried to brush past. He groped at me and said in a fuzzy voice,

“Hey, boy, you gowat de pwa—” but his face looked like he lost interest and he stared funny at the can in his hand for a second, then tried to put it to his lips and missed, spilling foam all down his prickly grey chest. I brushed past him again and he didn’t stop me and I walked all the way down the hall until I saw a bathroom and went inside and closed the door.

Michael came up after a little while and we went into his room until the sun went down. He had some new army men figures and also a whole chest full of legos. I made a battle ship and we put the army men on it. It didn’t work because army men are too big for legos, but it was still a lot of fun and I won twice and let him win the last time so I could keep coming over.