All is Blog

At the urging of my dearly beloved sister Siobhan, and faced with the existence of my brother Will and Aunt Besty's pages, I have created this web log.

In it I intend to write each (more likely: the occasional) day's joys, sorrows, and banalities in an effort to do as a more industrious Kipling might have instructed: to "Treat those three impostors the same". There seem to be unending benefits to doing so, and i love to write. The plot thins.

Listening to Nick Cave's "Get Ready For Love" today I was struck by how much I identified with the opening line of the first verse:
"Well, most of all nothing much
ever really happens
And God rides high up in the ordinary sky
Until we find ourselves at out most distracted
And the miracle that was promised
creeps quietly by".

I then realized how much I disliked the idea that my current view on les affair de ma vie was so reflected. No matter how much truth there may or may not be in this lyric, I pride myself in my tireless ability to ignore truth and live in the glossy world I know. And so I was so bothered by how willingly I gospelized Cave's words. They are just words. He is just a man, an Australian none the less. Having recently thought about how terribly strange a person Baz Lurhmann is, I am particularly weary of Australians at large in any corner of the arts. Suffice it to say that much as I love and admire them, they stir a unique brew down under.

I wish I read more. Is it strictly an issue of time, as I often exclaim to Jessie? Maybe it is, but I am sometimes suspicious of my oft-stated pseudo-belief that if I only had all the free time my little heart desired I would read more. I just don't know, but I certainly hope so. More likely I would gleefully gridlock myself in a multi-hour setup involving the combined pleasures of watching favored movies, eating favored foods, reading from favored websites, and writing favored friends. This is of course, more pleasure than God intended me to have. I am absolutely convinced that the only reason that the laws of phsyics render it dangerous to A) watch tv, B) play guitar, or C) eat, while taking a bath is because people (translate as: Christopher Stewart) would simply stop doing anything else and become those blissfully vapid jello-people in Wall-E.

I ran errands today. I did the crossword (which continues to afford me more pleasure than most activities). I thought about going to work out. I listened to NPR. I watched the news extensively. I ate breakfast and lunch. I turned in homework. I participated in a conference call with actor Michael Chiklis about the upcoming film "Eagle Eye" which he is in. I spent time with Jessie. I picked out songs for the "High Brow, Middle Brow, Low Brow" event coming up at school. They are: Take it Easy-the Eagles, Redemption Song- Bob Marley, Smugglers-George cavanaugh+Browne Sister, Will Ye Go, Lassie Go-Clancy Brothers(the version I know). I called Siobhan and John Ganta. She and I spoke thoroughly and enjoyably. He never called back, the cad. I turned in homework. I had coffee in the loop. It was a good day, a nice day, a Saturday.

I spoke with a friend the other day who had recently been mugged. He told me that on the metro he had shared his woeful story with a fellow commuter who had replied, simply: "Hey man, the sun's still shining". And the moon still glows...As for my Nick-Cave-inspired excursion into gloomier philosophical territory, it goes into the file in my mind regulated by the following Vonnegut quote from "Cat's Cradle":

"Tiger got to hunt,
Bird got to fly;
Man got to sit and wonder, 'Why, why why?'
Tiger got to sleep,
Bird got to land;
Man got to tell himself he understand."

A suitable answer, and at the same instant a far warmer outlook. Could human (philosophical) nature be better condensed?