Waking from the dream
Too much time has passed by to
lament that we were deeply in love
The wind keeps blowing, while my heart
cannot heal all the tears in it
Watching tomorrow with one eye
while keeping the other on yesterday
If only I could peacefully sleep
in the cradle of your love, again
Someone, cry for me with parched eyes
The real folk blues
I only want to know what true sadness is
Sitting in muddy water
isn't such a bad life
if it ends after the first time
Despair filled with hope
and this chance with a trap set
What's right or wrong?
It's like two sides of a coin
How long must I live till I'm healed
The real folk blues
I only want to know true happiness is
All that glitters is not gold
The real folk blues
I only want to know what true sadness is
Sitting in muddy water
isn't such a bad life
if it ends after the first time
Greg, you must append your "badass" list of Rico and Vash the Stampede with Spike Spiegel. Although I have yet to see all of the episodes of Cowboy Bebop (a few towards the beginning and the first half of the last episode), I am firmly convinced that it is one of the finest forms of art/entertainment produced by any culture in the media age and is more than worthy of its being honored in the annals of television excellence. I remember I had initially been repelled by it somewhat, seeing the wide acclaim it received and some seemingly blind defense of it, but after having finally succumbed to its appeal, I can certainly it's the real thing. Every stylistic device, from stellar soundtrack to numerous international allusions to artistic rendering, every plotline, whether of frivolity like in "Mushroom Samba" or whether poignant drama like in "The Real Folk Blues Pt. 2," every character, from exuberant Ed to intelligent/highly expressive Ein to stoic Jet to tormented Spike to emotionally battered/femme fatale Faye to the score of other rich personas the Bebop crew encounters, every element flat out works and creates a panoramic display that encompasses virtually the entire spectrum of human nature (banality unintended) in 26 episodes and a movie. The noir, the music, the tragedy, the love, the Bebop dynamics, the gratuitous scenes of Spike kicking ass with martial arts and gunmanship . . . to use a quote from my Heritage class, "a place for everything, and a thing for every place." I highly recommend this show, even to those who despise anime, for, as I've widely read, it is the "anime show for those who hate anime." From the high-spirited opening theme song "Tank!" to the slower, more reflective ending piece "The Real Folk Blues" (whose lyrics I have posted above in English since the song has been stuck in my head for a few days), every episode is downright fun to watch.
In other news, I ran across two puppies this morning on the way back from breakfast. One had frizzled fur while the other had short, straight fur. Both were rather friendly and ran up to my legs but then were diverted to another passerby. I don't want to do Chemistry homework today. That really is the only class I just don't like. I didn't like it when I took it with Mrs. Lively; I still don't like it now. As I told Grant a while back, Chemistry seems to me almost incommunicable in a classroom unless a person has a distinct passion for it. I cannot be said to boast that passion. I find Biology much more fascinating anyway. We're doing dimensional analysis, and while I understand the worth of the skill in light of my (hopefully) eventual occupation, I don't care how long it would take to pump water out of New Orleans if pumps can remove 9.9 X 10^5 ft^3/s when 80.0% of the city is submerged in at least 20 ft of water and the city's area is 4191 ft^2 (a quiz question from yesterday). Bah. Leonardo da Vinci's On Painting is amazing in terms of his ability to pinpoint human measurements in relation to relative distances on the body itself, but his arguments for the worth of painting double back on one another and make for ponderous reading. Eh. Blasted Chemistry.