Gravity Eyelids
For some reason, perhaps hunger, since all I've eaten recently consists of merely three small bags of Doritos and two Fig Newtons, I'm about to fall asleep; I'm yawning and the earth yearns for my eyelids. I need to write a two page paper with an unknown purpose and sketchy specifications, which shouldn't be hard, once I've eaten the pizza we're ordering. I love pizza, and I crave it now. I also crave pasta, garlic bread, a good hamburger, eggs, waffles, pancakes, et cetera. Thick pizza. I crave. Two words. Per sentence.
I was thinking recently how good some songs are when you take the words out. There's a song by Breaking Benjamin called "Blow Me Away" on the Halo 2 sound track that has no words in the game and sounds great, but is ruined by the lyrics when you listen to the actual song. The lyrics in songs that try to say something significant but end up failing completely ruin the experience. So I thought to myself, "Self, the best songs are instrumental then, right?" This can't be the case, though, since the best song ever written, performed, and recorded is "Sultans of Swing", by Dire Straits, and it has lyrics. There's a catch, though: it paints a picture. The whole song is just an image, including the lyrics. The words to the song, as well as the instruments (including the vocals), build the image. That's what songs should be like, unless the lyricist really has something useful or meaningful to say. So many songs have been ruined by a shallow artist who hopes to achieve depth. I found quite a few other songs that aren't ruined. "The Boxer", by Carbon Leaf, is one you, the reader, should listen to. It paints the picture. It's not static, like a painting, but it's still just a picture.
Hmm, I wonder how that sounds, and yet I resist re-reading the passage. It's a habit (good or bad? who knows) I can't or won't shake. Stubborn. This is going downhill. Time for work when the freedom of writing ends. Thoughts are in fragments, and I can't concentrate. Write later. Write later, I will, I mean it, after pizza and work. You can read it, too. I hope. Fragments get on my nerves, but there's no revision involved in freewrites.
Nat had this as an away message on the dreaded AOL Instant Messenger:
It's interesting. I can feel it. Time to finish some work.
I was thinking recently how good some songs are when you take the words out. There's a song by Breaking Benjamin called "Blow Me Away" on the Halo 2 sound track that has no words in the game and sounds great, but is ruined by the lyrics when you listen to the actual song. The lyrics in songs that try to say something significant but end up failing completely ruin the experience. So I thought to myself, "Self, the best songs are instrumental then, right?" This can't be the case, though, since the best song ever written, performed, and recorded is "Sultans of Swing", by Dire Straits, and it has lyrics. There's a catch, though: it paints a picture. The whole song is just an image, including the lyrics. The words to the song, as well as the instruments (including the vocals), build the image. That's what songs should be like, unless the lyricist really has something useful or meaningful to say. So many songs have been ruined by a shallow artist who hopes to achieve depth. I found quite a few other songs that aren't ruined. "The Boxer", by Carbon Leaf, is one you, the reader, should listen to. It paints the picture. It's not static, like a painting, but it's still just a picture.
Hmm, I wonder how that sounds, and yet I resist re-reading the passage. It's a habit (good or bad? who knows) I can't or won't shake. Stubborn. This is going downhill. Time for work when the freedom of writing ends. Thoughts are in fragments, and I can't concentrate. Write later. Write later, I will, I mean it, after pizza and work. You can read it, too. I hope. Fragments get on my nerves, but there's no revision involved in freewrites.
Nat had this as an away message on the dreaded AOL Instant Messenger:
Tell me that we belong together
Dress it up with the trappings of love
I'll be captivated, I'll hang from your lips
Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above
It's interesting. I can feel it. Time to finish some work.
posted by Andrew Hills at 8:55 PM
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