The Cut

Dino Jr. baby!

arende — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 20:11:14 +0000

Swirling, melodic guitar fun. Takes me back to college.

Ocean in the Way:

Everything that happens is from now on

arende — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 03:02:19 +0000

“We’re all here,” I said. Amazing. It was as much a question as a statement.

“Yes we are.” Mom’s voice was strong, emphatic. She smiled.

Dad continued with the story. “So I told him, the best way for a writer to live is carpe diem. I think he understood what I meant. The guy has 15 kids and you’ve got to say something to him, because clearly he’s picked a particular way to live his life. But I think he responded well to my carpe diem comment.”

Dad with his hand on my knee, like I’m a little boy. I relaxed, half-listened to my father, thought ahead to dinner that night. How great it will be, with my sister there as well, everyone drinking wine and telling funny stories. The circle unbroken, just as it should be. A forgotten surge of well-being seeped through me, an inarticulate sense that someone was looking out for me again after a hiatus beyond reason or compassion. And as the soft glow of familial communion settled into my limbs, I grew drowsy again.
….
And moved through water.
….
And the black crow with the wiry legs sat across from me, and screeched.
….
And I awoke, alone again.

Don’t got to worry

arende — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 15:56:08 +0000

Listening to the sublime Santogold on the way to work and plunged into 80s nostalgia with a Primitive’s-esqe ballad of beauty:

The jerkoff on my train

arende — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 00:39:11 +0000

Thinks that yelling into his cellphone in a self-important way signifies that he is a “mover” and a “shaker”. Actually it signifies his status of cog in the machine, since everyone knows the new standard of “made it” is 8 hours of sleep and no blackberry.

The cops

arende — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 14:02:07 +0000

I find that I like complying with the authorities. For example, when I enter the subway and the police have a station set up to search bags, I am only too happy to comply. Look, nothing here! Anything else I can do to help? And when they don’t ask to look in my bag, which is often, I feel some slight disappointment. As if the opportunity to do my civic duty just passed me by. What’s that about, I wonder. Is it because I’m first-born and have always felt some pride about being on the right side of authority, pleasing my partents, etc? Probably.

Come, oh Death

arende — Tue, 30 Dec 2008 20:41:36 +0000

Come, O death, you brother of sleep,

come and lead me away from here;

release my little ship’s rudder,

bring me to a safe harbour!

Here are some things that invariably invoke this Bach cantata in my mind:

Packing and unpacking large pieces of luggage;
Listening to that blowhard in extremis Lou Dobbs on TV;
Being forced to endure meetings with too many people and no agenda;
Interacting with incompetent / unfocused service personnel in Starbucks;
Thinking about General Motors;
Flying coach.

Life’s short enough, right? Jesus!

Subway to Hell

arende — Tue, 30 Dec 2008 15:11:33 +0000

There are two kinds of people who ride subways — those who allow the passengers inside the subway cars to exit before entering themselves, and those who don’t. Sometimes in the parallel universe of my daydreams, I imagine that this latter group, after rudely shoving their way onto the train, find themselves, lo and behold!, on a Subway to Hell. Not in the metaphorical sense of, I hope they have a really bad subway ride, but in the literal sense:

the doors close and lock with an ominous sound;
with a voice spanning 13 octaves, the conductor welcomes everyone on the Subway to Hell;
everyone laughs nervously, ha ha ha, what a funny conductor;
the train lurches forward, then straight downward for 45 minutes, while the temperature inside gradually increases to 150 degrees;
the train stops at what appears to be a lake of molten lava, where the wrathful fight each other on the surface, and the sullen or slothful lie gurgling just below;
the doors open, small demons fly in and carry all the passengers out, and thus commences 24 hours of hell, beginning with a 6-hour Liza Minelli concert.

No kids or elderly, of course.