(no subject)
i think this is my first post in a while. i keep meaning to write about things, and then get caught up in the experience of them.
Something/everything in our generation/country/zeitgeist is making me more and more uncomfortable. i feel as though my actions, my voice, really do nothing to stem the movement of our government, of various governments and groups, towards violence and hostility. i want it to change. it? the way in which we resolve conflicts? the way in which we live? in which we choose our leaders, our futures, our jobs, our homes... ALL OF IT. and i can imagine you, sitting there reading this (maybe) with that half-smile of condescension at my vagueness, at my language which echoes the drugged ethos of previous generations. i am sober, and i will say, i want it to change. i don't know how yet. i don't know how to get there.
and i am indeterminately longing. there is a yearning somewhere in my gut, for something i feel when i listen to jeff buckley's gorgeous plaintive wail, and the cresecendo of sound of my beloved noise rock, and john darnielle's harkening heralds of shattered loves and broken bottles, and... and... and... maybe its just for love, or maybe the whole package that i think love brings... a tangled knot of wild-eyed passion and living life and soft-quiet-late-night tenderness. i wish i could strip away all the tired grit that clings to words describing emotion. i wish they could be fresh. i wish my breath, my utterance would be their birth.
Something/everything in our generation/country/zeitgeist is making me more and more uncomfortable. i feel as though my actions, my voice, really do nothing to stem the movement of our government, of various governments and groups, towards violence and hostility. i want it to change. it? the way in which we resolve conflicts? the way in which we live? in which we choose our leaders, our futures, our jobs, our homes... ALL OF IT. and i can imagine you, sitting there reading this (maybe) with that half-smile of condescension at my vagueness, at my language which echoes the drugged ethos of previous generations. i am sober, and i will say, i want it to change. i don't know how yet. i don't know how to get there.
and i am indeterminately longing. there is a yearning somewhere in my gut, for something i feel when i listen to jeff buckley's gorgeous plaintive wail, and the cresecendo of sound of my beloved noise rock, and john darnielle's harkening heralds of shattered loves and broken bottles, and... and... and... maybe its just for love, or maybe the whole package that i think love brings... a tangled knot of wild-eyed passion and living life and soft-quiet-late-night tenderness. i wish i could strip away all the tired grit that clings to words describing emotion. i wish they could be fresh. i wish my breath, my utterance would be their birth.