I am talking about that one time

Because we all had that time, when we were fifteen, sixteen maybe, when Bob Dylan was our man.
He still is, but you know what I mean.

In the interest of being more honest here

Emotional upheavals and things, probably due to not getting my periods. More like emotional downheavals. I have been thinking about L.S. a lot. Not sad things. Not even things, just stuff that happened back then. But today more about V and things I know about him that no one else knows. People should always go for walks to get to know  each other better. All I worry about is my heart getting smaller. I need to not let it for my mother and friends I have grown to care about. Fucking hell. Never tell anybody anything. But it always happens. And as for me like Stephen Dunn, "I’ve had it with all stingy-hearted sons of bitches. A heart is to be spent. As for me, I’ll share my mulcher with anyone who needs to mulch. " Except the stingy hearted son of a bitch tends to be me, most of the time. But those days are over, ladies. And it happened without me knowing.  At least I can still look at poetry books I can't afford yet. Probably never, the way things are going. At least I can look forward to finding them in libraries.  I have thought some terrible things that I can't write about.  Things that mess people up start early when they haven't even got their guard up. 

Love is a Deep and a Dark and a Lonely

Carl Sandburg

love is a deep and a dark and a lonely

and you take it deep take it dark

and take it with a lonely winding

and when the winding gets too lonely

then may come the windflowers

and the breath of wind over many flowers

winding its way out of many lonely flowers

waiting in rainleaf whispers

waiting in dry stalks of noon

wanting in a music of windbreaths

so you can take love as it comes keening

as it comes with a voice and a face

and you make a talk of it

talking to yourself a talk worth keeping

and you put it away for a keen keeping

and you find it to be a hoarding

and you give it away and yet it stays hoarded

like a book read over and over again

like one book being a long row of books

like leaves of windflowers bending low

and bending to be never broken

I have to do tax. "Be a legal superhero in the business world". God.

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

Sixty, by Stephen Dunn

Because in my family the heart goes first

and hardly anybody makes it out of his fifties,

I think I’ll stay up late with a few bandits

of my choice and resist good advice.

I’ll invent a secret scroll lost by Egyptians

and reveal its contents: the directions

to your house, recipes for forgiveness.

History says that my ventricles are stone alleys,

my heart itself a city with a terrorist

holed up in the mayor’s office.

I’m in the mood to punctuate

only with that maker of promises, the colon:

next, next, next, it says, God bless it.

As Garcia Lorca may have written: some people

forget to live as if a great arsenic lobster

could fall on their heads at any moment.

My sixtieth birthday is tomorrow.

Come, play poker with me,

I want to be taken to the cleaners.

I’ve had it with all stingy-hearted sons of bitches.

A heart is to be spent. As for me, I’ll share

my mulcher with anyone who needs to mulch.

It’s time to give up search for the invisible.

On the best of days there’s little more

than the faintest intimations. The millenium,

my dear, is sure to disappoint us.

I think I’ll keep on describing things

to ensure that they really happened.

Fat lady

I would say I will say a thousand Hail Marys, but I have a feeling you don't work that way.

But please please let us win this one. 

The World is a Beautiful Place *sarcasm*

By Ferlinghetti

The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind happiness
not always being
so very much fun
if you don't mind a touch of hell
now and then
just when everything is fine
because even in heaven
they don't sing
all the time

The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind some people dying
all the time
or maybe only starving
some of the time
which isn't half bad
if it isn't you

Oh the world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't much mind
a few dead minds
in the higher places
or a bomb or two
now and then
in your upturned faces
or such other improprieties
as our Name Brand society
is prey to
with its men of distinction
and its men of extinction
and its priests
and other patrolmen

and its various segregations
and congressional investigations
and other constipations
that our fool flesh
is heir to

Yes the world is the best place of all
for a lot of such things as
making the fun scene
and making the love scene
and making the sad scene
and singing low songs and having inspirations
and walking around
looking at everything
and smelling flowers
and goosing statues
and even thinking
and kissing people and
making babies and wearing pants
and waving hats and
dancing
and going swimming in rivers
on picnics
in the middle of the summer
and just generally
'living it up'
Yes
but then right in the middle of it
comes the smiling

mortician 

Jesus he was a handsome man

Sometime during eternity by Lawrence Ferlinghetti: 

Sometime during eternity

                                                       some guys show up   

and one of them

                      who shows up real late

                                                       is a kind of carpenter   

      from some square-type place

                                              like Galilee

          and he starts wailing

                                          and claiming he is hip

            to who made heaven

                                       and earth

                                                      and that the cat

                   who really laid it on us

                                                 is his Dad

          And moreover

             he adds

                         It’s all writ down

                                              on some scroll-type parchments   

          which some henchmen

                  leave lying around the Dead Sea somewheres   

                a long time ago

                                       and which you won’t even find   

         for a coupla thousand years or so

                                                 or at least for

      nineteen hundred and fortyseven

                                                      of them

                            to be exact

                                             and even then

         nobody really believes them

                                                   or me

                                                            for that matter

          You’re hot

                         they tell him

          And they cool him

          They stretch him on the Tree to cool

                         And everybody after that

                                                               is always making models   

                                          of this Tree

                                                          with Him hung up   

          and always crooning His name

                                     and calling Him to come down   

                                 and sit in

                                                 on their combo

                           as if he is the king cat

                                                            who’s got to blow   

                      or they can’t quite make it

                      Only he don’t come down

                                                         from His Tree

          Him just hang there

                                       on His Tree

          looking real Petered out

                                          and real cool

                                                             and also

                   according to a roundup

                                                    of late world news   

             from the usual unreliable sources

                                                               real dead

Puthiya manithan

Njan intha naal muthal oru puthiya manithan aaha poren.

Believe it ladies.

Njan pathivilum ugranavan povukayanu ennu artham.

Why you should listen to Liam Gallagher

This is just to say here that I have finally finished reading "Brothers Karamazov". I was going to write a review of it but my whole brain is tired. From reading it and thinking about it, haven't been so knackered from a book in a long time.
Also it depressed the hell out of me. Maybe not depressed, just, I feel odd.
When in doubt kids, remember the wise words of Liam Gallagher:
"You're only gutted 'cos you was in bed fuckin' reading your fuckin' books."
My favorite brother was Dmitry. That's all you are going to get. And I fucking hate that fucking Ivan. 


 

മൂന്നാര്‍ പോയി. നല്ല സ്ഥലം. പ്രകൃതിയോ പ്രകൃതി.
മേതിലിന്റെ കവിതകള്‍ കൊണ്ട് പോകണമായിരുന്നു-

"മണ്ണില്‍ വിരല്‍ പൂഴ്ത്തിയാല്‍ ഒരു മിടിപ്പറിയാം
വിരല്‍തുമ്പില്‍ ചെറിയൊരു ചിറകടി അറിയാം
വിരലെടുത്താല്‍ തുംബത്തൊരു പൂമ്പാറ്റയുണ്ടാകണമെങ്കിലോ
വിരലിനെ പുഴുവിനെ പോലെ പരിഗണിക്കുവാന്‍ പഠിക്കണം
ആകാശങ്ങള്‍ പോലും ഭൂമിയില്‍ നിന്ന് പറന്നുയര്‍ന്നതാണ് 
അപാരതകളുടെയെല്ലാം പുഴുക്കളുണ്ടായിരുന്ന കൊക്കൂണ്‍ ഭൂമിയാണ്‌
അതിനകത്തൊരു ചെറിയ പുഴുവായി ഇരിക്കണമെന്നുണ്ടെങ്കില്‍
ആകാശത്തേക്കാള്‍ നിങ്ങള്‍ വലുതായിരിക്കണം "

ഈ വരികള്‍ സദാ മനസ്സിലോര്‍ത്തു കൊണ്ട് നടന്നു.

പുളുവാണ് ! തിരിച്ചു വന്നപ്പോളാണ്  ഇത് വായിച്ചതു. ഹഹഹ. അല്ലെങ്കിലും ഇങ്ങനെ കവിത ഉരുവിട്ട് നടന്നാല്‍ അവിടെ കൊക്കയില്‍ വീഴും. മനസ്സിലായോ ?
ഇരവികുളം വന്യജീവി സങ്കേതം കലക്കി. അവരുടെ ഒരു ടി ഷര്‍ട്ട്‌ മേടിച്ചു. വരയാടിന്റെ പടമുള്ള ഒരു ഉഗ്രന്‍ സാധനം. അവിടുത്തെ വെള്ളച്ചാട്ടം കണ്ടാല്‍ നമ്മുടെ ആത്മാവ് ക്ലീന്‍ ക്ലീനായി പോകും. അറിയാമോ?
പക്ഷെ രാവിലെ എണീറ്റ്‌ പുറത്തു വന്നിരുന്നു ജീവിതത്തില്‍ ഇത് വരെ കാണാത്ത തരം പുതിയ സൈസ് കിളികള്‍ "ശും" ശും " എന്ന് കൂടുകാരുടെ കൂടെ പറക്കുന്നത് കണ്ടപ്പോ മറ്റു രണ്ടു വരികളാണ് ഓര്‍മ  വന്നത്-
" പ്രകൃതിക്കെന്നെക്കുറിച്ച്
ഇത്രയേ അറിയാവു, അറിയേണ്ടു .
പ്രേമമല്ലാതെ പ്രകൃതിയ്ക്ക് മറ്റൊന്നുമറിയില്ല."

പ്രകൃതിയ്ക്ക് തന്നെ ഈ ഭാവമാണെന്നു മലയാളം മാഷ് ഫാദര്‍ കുട്ടനാടന്‍ എന്നെ പഠിപ്പിച്ചിട്ടുണ്ട്, സര്‍വകലാശാലയില്‍ . മനസ്സിലായോ? ഇല്ല. എന്റെ പൊട്ട കോളേജില്‍ അല്ല- Father kuttandante class ഇല്‍ 

ഞാന്‍ മലയാളം പഠിച്ചിട്ടില്ല?

At home

I am back home and I was so happy to finally get here that I thought there must be some sort of psychotropic drugs in the atmosphere. It's been just two days but I have already gotten used to the new house. Its quite an open house and even smells like the old one.
Furthermore I have also come to the conclusion that the key to happiness is good bowel moments.
I have been reading my old diaries again, and the last ones were full of my notes on Marxism and stuff. I was quite surprised to read them. My opinions seem to be so much clearer and intrepid then.
I have been reading and playing the flute mainly. It's been very nice.

So the Luthra thing is over.
And I have now stayed up all night watching comedy shows.

Comedy duos, man. I like them.
I mean I think that's the test really, if you can stay up till 5 in the morning watching/listening to something then you like it.

And if it sounds good to you, it's bitchin'

I should write that on a t shirt

Also how much do I want to go home

I have thought a lot of profound things in Delhi, I will post once I get home and get some time.

It's five in the morning.

Faiz and "The unbearable lightness of being"

आनेवाले दिनों के सफीरों के नाम

वो जो खुशबु-ए-गुल की तरह

अपने पैगाम पर खुद फ़िदा हो गए हैं

The last lines of Intesaab reminded me of Milan Kundera talking about kitsch in "The unbearable lightness of being"

Faiz

Aaj ke naam
Aur
Aaj ke gam ke naam
Aaj ka gam ke hai zindagi ke bhare gulistan se khafa
Zard patton ka ban
Zard patton ka ban jo mera des hai
Dard ki anjuman jo mera des hai

In other news this is the worst I have felt in my entire life

The Arctic Monkeys are coming

I can sense it.

I mean I obviously always liked them, but I think they are coming for real now.

"Expect us" they whispered as she clicked on her fourteenth Youtube video...

Regardless of all the other things that are transient favorites

....I will always maintain that "Imagine" is the best song ever written obviously but what I wanted to talk about is "Brothers in Arms" which is the best song ever written that really does find deep resonances within my soul and permeates the spirit of my entire life and also future lives (if any).

Anti-war hero.
Mark Knopfler is the best person.

Buddha in Glory, Rilke

Center of all centers, core of cores,

almond self-enclosed, and growing sweet—

all this universe, to the furthest stars

all beyond them, is your flesh, your fruit.

Now you feel how nothing clings to you;

your vast shell reaches into endless space,

and there the rich, thick fluids rise and flow.

Illuminated in your infinite peace,

a billion stars go spinning through the night,

blazing high above your head.

But in you is the presence that

will be, when all the stars are dead.

My father is such a jerk
But Joe Strummer said the heart of the matter is "Forget about your parents, and deal with this". And I am twenty two, so to hell with that.

No more Blur after Hyde Park says Damon

WELL DID YOU JUST DECIDE THAT BY YOURSELF DAMON

WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT IT, DAMON ALLBRAN
THAT'S RIGHT. NOTHING. 
SO SHUT UP AND RECORD "UNDER THE WESTWAY" BECAUSE YOU ARE DUMB

But, okay fine. I have been thinking about how,2010 (s (?)) was becoming the decade of reunions of nineties and early 2000s (great) bands- this time in music was just getting really really desperate in the calling up old girlfriends and stuff way, you know?
Okay  fine. Don't reunite. But if you're going to do music anyway you might as well do it with Graham. Because you two have got something and that stuff is fucking precious you know?

WOW GIFs!!

Paul and George in India. Hee hee.

(I got this from tumblr ages ago, so I don't remember from where exactly.)

tenacitee

This semester has been the worst semester ever. I haven't read much, not listened to new music, and generally not tried to think about anything that has not been presented to me- I have lost all intellectual curiosity- and I have not really loved anyone better. I haven't done any "heart's work". My soul has become smaller. I haven't been patient or open in my heart. 

And I don't have any tenacity or anything, which Amba says I do. 

If I die now I will die the worst version of myself. 

There. Now onward to the things that have never been.

I am believer in Stephen Fry. Fucking Hallelujah

Anybody who tells me what happens after I'm dead is either a liar or a fool, because they don't know. 


-Stephen Fry

Graham on BBC Breakfast

I just realised through this interview that Graham is actually a really sensible 43 year old man. Not that I didn't know, I just I mean him talking about something other than music, about media over reporting stuff and sensationalism about the youth and drugs thing just made me think about how absolutely weird it is that there are 15 year old girls all over the world calling him their precious bb and such when he is actually a person like the person that he is.
Not that I am going to refrain from such behaviour in the future.
Not that I am fifteen years old (either).

Every fucking time

Article: Transparency and openness go hand in hand in ensuring blah blah
Brain: ...hand in hand go their PARKLIFE

The real question is

Do you have to wear a bra when you go to the library.

And also, EXAM TIME and the general situation now is:

Just this once Gandalf I will be good I sweeeaaar

OK bye

In which actual people kick inanimate objects' butt

I went to Shiv Sai with Vasudha and now I feel better about life.

This is why you shouldn't spend all your time on the internet, kids.
This is why you should shut up about your phone. 

God Bless that weirdo Adam

Remember when he posted a series of pictures of his willy on his blog?

God bless him.

Danks you guise

So that was fun. 


I've got to do stuff now so I don't feel like a jerk. 
I mean, work and stuff. 

Alarming developments

I tweeted Johnny Marr.
Which means in some sense of the word I said things to him.
I am deeply regretting this life decision that I have made.
To illustrate, if you were some really Christian fellow, and you tweeted Jesus, telling him silly things. Such is the situation that has happened. 
The internet is bad for you. 

Book review: Khasakkinte Ithihasam

ഖസാക്കിന്റെ ഇതിഹാസം കലക്കീട്ടുണ്ട്.
ലാസ്റ്റ് ആ രവീനെ ഒരു ചവിട്ടു ചവിട്ടാന്‍ തോന്നി എനിക്ക് ചില സമയത്ത്. ഒരു വല്യ outsider വന്നിരിക്കുന്നു. വല്യ വാറ്റുചാരായം കുടികകണ ആള്. എന്തെങ്കിലും ആയിക്കോട്ടെ. പുസ്തകം നന്നായിട്ടുണ്ട് വളരെ. പിന്നെ എല്ലാവരും ചില സമയത്ത് ജാട ആണ്. അതും പറയണല്ലോ.
പിന്നേ എന്താണ് ഈ സാലഭന്ചിക ആരെങ്കിലും പറഞ്ഞു തരുമോ
നാട്ടിലെ ആള്‍ക്കാരുടെ കഥ ഒക്കെ പറഞ്ഞത് നന്നായിട്ടുണ്ട്. അവരെ മഹാന്മാരാക്കീട്ടില്ല. മനുഷ്യരാക്കീട്ടെ ഉള്ളു. 
അല്ലെങ്കി എപ്പളും ഗ്രാമത്തില്‍ മൊത്തം മാലാഖമാരും നഗരത്തിലെപ്പോഴും ചതിയന്മാരും കള്ളന്മാരും. അതില്ല. 
പക്ഷെ ഈ മിത്തും ശരിക്കെ ഉള്ള സംഭവവും ഇങ്ങനെ ഒരു പട്ടുതുണിയില്‍


ഒരുമിച്ചു നെയ്ത പോലെ  ആക്കിയത് അടിപൊളി ആയിട്ടുണ്ട്‌. 
പിന്നെ ഇങ്ങേരുടെ എഴുത്തിന്റെ രീതി നന്നായിണ്ട്. അപ്പൊ ഇതാണല്ലേ ഈ കുറെ ആള്‍ക്കാര് കോപ്പി അടിച്ചു കൊണ്ട് നടക്കുന്നത്. എല്ലാം plural ആക്കിയാല്‍ മാത്രം പോര. അതിനൊക്കെ creative genius വേണം. അത് ഇങ്ങേര്‍ക്ക് ഉണ്ട്. നിങ്ങള്‍ക്കാര്‍ക്കും ഇല്ല. "എന്തിനോ വേണ്ടി തിളയ്ക്കുന്ന സംബാറുകള്‍"" " എന്ന് പറഞ്ഞാല്‍ കോമഡി ആണ്. അല്ലാതെ ഇങ്ങേരുടെ പോലെ ആവില്ല. കേട്ടോ. 
അത് പോലെയല്ല "അപ്പോഴും അസ്തമയത്തിലൂടെ പനതതതകളുടെ ധനുസ്സുകള്‍ പറന്നകുന്നു കൊണ്ടിരുന്നു" എന്ന് പറയുന്നത്. 
ആഹ. ഇത് ഞാന്‍ ഇപ്പൊ ചുമ്മാ തുറന്നു നോക്കിയപോ കണ്ട ലൈന്‍ ആണ്. അപ്പ എങ്ങിനെയുണ്ട്
പിന്നെ ഈ പുസ്തകം വായിച്ചിട്ടാണോ എല്ലാ ഇപ്പൊ മധ്യവയസ്കരായ ആള്‍ക്കാര് ഗ്രാമത്തില്‍ സ്കൂള്‍ ടീച്ചര്‍ ആകാന്‍ പോകുന്നത്? അവര്‍ വയസ്സാങ്കാലത്ത് ഖസാക്കിന്റെ ഇതിഹാസം  കളിയ്ക്കാന്‍ പോവുകയാണോ? 

Stop looking at my blog Shriti

And stop posting pictures of food on yours

This yellow thing

I just really like this yellow shirt
I just feel really nice in it
I have just spend fifteen minutes berating my other shirts why they can't be more like this yellow thing

#inwhichistarttalkingtomyclothes

Also where is my one legged bird.
I want to tell him about the Lurkers. And this coal scam, what about that eh

Can I also just tell you that I went out to buy my big bag of chips and I saw this person who had GOTHIC written on his shirt in glitter, and it really looked like he had written it himself.
And then there was this girl with this really nice pair of non skinny jeans
And there were two girls buying ice cream with a really nasty look on their face that seemed to suggest that they really hated buying ice cream or something but they had to because somebody had to do it
And all this made me feel nice and happy. 

Hey Hey Let's all go to a show like this

Oh wait it doesn't exist.

Exam time is here again all rejoice

If the intention of the person who wrote this article in World Trade Law was that this weird combination of words used make sense to earthlings then I am sorry to say that he has failed in a most miserable fashion.
Better luck next time monsieur.
Come back when you learn some English and not this space people talk that you have here on GATT 1994. 

Reasons life does not make any sense

1. I am not Graham's best friend.
2. I am not allowed to go back in time and punch Damon in the face, repeatedly.
3. I cannot teleport. (WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THAT ANYWAY)
4. Amba sux.
5. I am not Batman.
6. I am not a golden guitar godlike genius
7. I am starting to like Graham's solo stuff better than blur WHATSHAPPENING
8. I have to do a CCR presentation in the evening and I am making this list.
9. According to legend, in the early days Peter used to answer his phone with "Hello, Albion Services"
10. Fleas can jump higher than 130 times their own height
11. Peter and Carlos have not made a sex tape together and put it up on Albion Arks yet.
12. I am dumb and everybody else is smrt
13. Nobody understands that I am funny and cool and just generally the sex I mean where are my groupies

Can I just say

...that the stuff you are interested in does not make you cool.
It's what you are like that determines whether you are cool.
This is simple and can be illustrated by simple facts of life:

1. You may like the Smiths but that does not make you Johnny Marr. 
2. You might be Christian but that does not make you Jesus. 
3. You might like sex but that does not make you Led Zeppelin. 

This is the tragedy of everybody's life. But you know, it's true.
So don't think, I like this stuff so I must be cool, because if you are a jerk you are still a jerk.

And being a jerk is for chumps. Be nice: Listen to Hugh Laurie:

That was an important life lesson that you could have gotten for free, but if you hadn't figured out this yourself before I told you gimme 750 bucks I need to buy something. 

She just opened her heart and threw her cares away

I have been worrying about this bird all day and I am done now. I have left my window open and I am going to sleep. 


And all the insects have come in and they're biting me and IT HURTS AND THEY ARE FUCKING ANNOYING and also this bird has already pooped in my room but I AM STILL GOING TO SAVE ITS LIFE how do you like that for 'cold and unfeeling' Alphonsa you BASTARD 

Meanwhile in England

...Alex has started naming blur songs after cheese


Cheese so high


Quarklife


SEND HELP I CANNOT DEAL WITH THIS LOUCHE MAN


He just also said "Bit of a Bleu"


Tell my mother I love her


*dies*

St. Ernesto

There are some things I haven’t made up my mind about.

And one of the things came up in conversation the other day and I can't think and talk at the same time, so I couldn't articulate anything.I have thought about it since and I have been back and forth and it still hard to say. Anyway, in my own confused and unorganized way, I'd like to write down my thoughts. 

So the thing was Arun said that he hated Che for what he did after they overthrew Batista in 1959. That he killed all those people and everything. And I said, "but he went and got himself killed as well" which is not what I meant to say and isn't really any moral ground to kill people at all (is there really a moral ground that lets you kill people? 007) Anyway, what has always bugged me is whether he sort of hardened up when he got power and started pushing his Marxism down dead people's throats and stuff. But then I always think, he could have stayed in Cuba and enjoyed it(all the power and all) a bit more, but right after the coup he said, "The battle is over, the revolution begins now" and everywhere he was talking about the common history and sameness of the American countries and he left being a minister and went to Bolivia because he really wanted to free those people and it was pretty evident he didn't really have a chance. And it wasn't very nice to be in there, I have read the Bolivian Diaries. He left and got himself killed. So it may not be that he was blinded by his authority and power. Maybe he thought of the whole thing as an ongoing war against imperialism, do you know what I mean? However at the same time, the fact that he was the minister in charge of executing Batista sympathizers  and stuff still really makes me uncertain.  I am a pacifist and I don't believe in killing people whatever the reason (John said that). But the thing is, they did the coup, right? And there were only a few of them. And I dunno, maybe sometimes violence is the only answer? I mean, I think otherwise, but we are such little twerps, how do we know what it is like to live under such a regime? Maybe "A revolution without guns, Mial? It will never work."  I just can't bring myself to believe everything the (western?) media says about Cuba and it's revolutionary leaders. But that's about it really. If Che really killed 2000 anti-communists at La Cabana, then it's a NO from me. Just NO. No matter how much poetry you have in your pocket[1].

I don't think that freedom should be given more importance over all the other stuff that is there, like equality or something, I mean, maybe it is not the topmost ideal above all others, like Camus says,  but it is quite important. Hard to envisage one without the other. And anyway, killing anti-communists isn't communism. I read this book at home which talked about this phrase "Aadyam manushyan, pinne Marxism" which in translation means roughly and less beautifully "First Man, then comes Marxism", or something like first comes humanity and then comes Marxism. I agree with that.

But the fact remains that my views will always be colored by the fact that Che Guevara has always been sort of like I dunno Jesus or something for Communists, which everybody is at home. The fact remains that my conclusions and views will always be colored and narrowed down because I read poetry about the jar in which they sent Che's hands to Cuba, after they hacked them off after capturing and killing him.

The fact also remains that my views on communism will always be colored by images of that soldier playing Russian roulette with Victor Jara in Chile in September.

(I am not saying this is a good thing.) 

It's all 'kitsch', I suppose, like Milanku says in the "Unbearable lightness of being".  I try hard to keep my mind free. Again, it may be because I believe that conformity does not belong on the Left. I think I agree with what Camus says in "Socialism of the Gallows" that it is on the left today (whenever that was, at that time) :

"To be sure, the Right is not brilliant. But when the left is in complete decadence, a prisoner of words, caught in its own vocabulary, capable of merely stereotyped replies, constantly at a loss when faced with the truth, from which it nevertheless claimed to derive its laws.The Left is schizophrenic and needs doctoring through pitiless self criticism, exercise of the heart and clear reasoning.[ ….] Meanwhile the intellectual's role will be to say that the king is naked when he is, and not go into raptures over his imaginary trappings."

If I go by my favourite definition of an intellectual, which is Peter's, when he said that:

"I don’t really know what “intellectual” means, but if it means you’ve got a desire to learn, you’ve got a desire to look for things that haven’t been presented to you, then, maybe. "(on being asked whether he considered himself and Carl as 'intellectuals')

…then that (the intellectual's role according to Camus) becomes my role too, at least I want it to be, and I try hard to free my mind.

In any case, I can be a communist and still not approve of everything communist leaders did in their lifetime. Anyway it isn't all about individuals. What about Unamono? He "looked upon Marxism more as a moral and humanitarian ideal compatible with Christian values than as an economic theory or blueprint for violent revolution."

These are the things I have been thinking about. Among other things. 

---

[1] 69, incidentally. Che’s green notebook that they found among his personal belongings after his murder had 69 poems of poets like Neruda, Vallejo and Felipe, written in his own hand. 

NME your gay is showing

The NME has such a hard on for Peter all the time it's embarassing. Here on their blog they've posted thirty three pictures of Peter on account of it is his thirty third birthday, with such rabid fangirl captions such as "Pete flashing his nipples again in this one". I have no reason to lie to you. 
http://www.nme.com/blog/index.php?blog=147&title=pete_doherty_1&more=1&c=1&tb=1&pb=1
Stop it NME, you are a music magazine. (And 60 years old) (Keep it in yer pants) 

From Peter's Journal

One day somebody sent plain old Peter a postcard. 

Was saving this for your Birthday Monsieur Peter

You know how much I love Peter? Its not a worshippy love. Its not a rockstarishmy love.  Its an everyday love that permeates my entire waking hours- like whenever I see a movie that looks nice I want to call him up and ask him if he thinks I should watch it. I trust his judgment, about toothpaste as well, you know? Although I half expect him to be sixteen years old and thirty years old at the same time, coming in to the house after playing football with Emma Frogg with two 'g's but no teeth, with his top-hat full of cats.  Stupid love of my stupid life.  (And a goddam poet if I ever saw one)

Oh here he comes with his raspy drug-addled voice screaming "Pipey McGraw" and I can't find it in my heart to hate anything anymore. 

(Filed under: Journal entries about people who I half made up.)

Good things happened to me on March 12

I was sitting in class thinking about how Peter's birthday was in early March too, then I came back and realised that it was today. 
Happy Birthdae Peter Doherty.

Happy Birthday Graham!

I stayed up and played Coffee and TV for you in the general direction of England. 


Going to sleep after an emotional performance of "You're so great and I love you". 


<3


I TWEETED GRAHAM ON HIS BIRTHDAY NO GOOD CAN COME OF THIS
I THINK I AM GOING TO GET A HEART ATTACK SEND HELP 

Quality blogging sponsored by JDawg

Now that I have left tumblr it has never been this quality- there are new Libertines pictures, gifs and and the funny people have returned in millions.

I feel personally responsible- where is my thanks? Do I ever get any? No. 

And fuckyeahhippysson has returned. Yes miladies. 

Also you have no idea, it must be withdrawal symptoms, because today I literally had to wrench my hand from the reblog button and tell myself to calm down, IT'S ONLY DAMON. 

Damon. If I ever get that urge again please just punch me in the face and never speak of it again. 

Dance music for old people

I had a Libertines day after so long, man. My heart feels lighter. I mean, I watch their shows everyday and wallow in misery about how they broke up and write sorrowful ballads to their great romance but I haven't had the urge to put their first album on and just lose it, you know?
That was a good fifteen minutes. Now I gotta go for flute class.
I have been really busy lately. It's weird and I don't like it.
Bye bye.
P. S. Also I had this nagging doubt in my mind that I was maybe too old for them now. CODSWALLOP. Right? Right?
P. P. S. Thin ice, mademoiselle.

East of Eden aka My mother is a whore: Book Review

Not going to be spoiler free. But it isn't some goddam mystery novel, so there.

John Steinbeck said "One book to a man" and if this isn't his "one book", I mean, if "Grapes of Wrath" or something is better than this one, then humanity is so fucking amazing I don't know what went wrong with the whole thing, I mean, it would just be completely inexplicable. 

I liked Cal best in this book, Cal Trask. I know that in the end he kind of becomes the one you are supposed to like as well, but I liked him from the beginning( *puts hipster glasses on*). I liked him from when he was born and he looked meaner and shrewder than his brother and everybody automatically liked him less. I feel you, man, I said. And all that rejection lark. And your parent being a whore. And all that nervousness about whether your 'mean' is inherited or your own 'mean'.  And all his prayers at night going "Don't let me be mean". And I knew that brother of his was going to get himself killed that golden haired sonuvabitch. These blonde angelic types are always fucking martyring themselves. It's so fucking annoying.

From now on I am going to believe everything John Steinbeck tells me. Through the internet, I mean, since he was from so long ago. And he wrote this book in 1956 or something, I mean, the stuff, the underlying stuff is the same. All the stories, and all the stuff are the same. In life and in literature. All the good stories. Anyway, how come people know so much about human beings? I mean, you know, authors like John Steinbeck. How come they learned people so well? And how do they still love them even though they have seen them at their weakest, most cowardly moments? Maybe that is why. Maybe if you've seen them, seen right through them in their most unarmed self indulgent moments then you sort of can't help it. Maybe all these authors who know everything are like timelords who have seen so much and are so old that they can't help being hopelessly in love with everything that is human.

This didn't really turn out to be a book review but it is three thirty in the  morning. Read this book. I am not kidding around. If you don't read anything else, read this. And Mice and Men and Steppenwolf.

I should make more lists on this blog.

A top hat full of cats

I never liked this song, but he does break my heart.

Him and his cats. 

When I grow up I want to be the Beatles

I am becoming really nervous all the time about the person I am becoming. 


I mean, this is it, isn't it? "When I grow up I want to be the Beatles" and all that stuff. This is when you know, right? 
I am relying on Marc Bolan at the moment. Ride it on out like a bird in the skyways, ride it on out like you were a bird.  I mean, I don't want to be a wus. As in, I always maintained that it was Bob Dylan who described the Beatles most perfectly in his book: 

"The radio was on from beyond a wall and the sound was coming through the static. The Beatles were singing “Do You Want To Know A Secret.” They were so easy to accept, so solid. I remembered when they first came out. They offered intimacy and companionship like no other group. Their songs would create an empire. It seemed like a long time ago. “Do You Want To Know A Secret.” A perfect 50’s sappy love ballad and nobody but them could do it. Somehow there was nothing wussy about it. The Beatles blasted away."

Solid and intimate and just in general blasting away through the static, you know? But the thing is, John said:


"Don't you think the Beatles gave every sodden thing they had to be the Beatles?"


I just want to give every sodden thing I have, you know? Why fucking beat around the bush?

Note to self

“If you end up with a boring miserable life because you listened to your mom, your dad, your teacher, your priest, or some guy on television telling you how to do your shit, then you deserve it.” 

― Frank Zappa

Who also said such faith in humanity affirming things like: 

"Without deviation from the norm, progress is not possible" 

“If you want to get laid, go to college. If you want an education, go to the library.” 

And he also said that writing about music is like dancing about architecture. So there.

'If it sounds GOOD to you, it's bitchin'

"If a person wants to write music and lyrics, he has a perfect right to express his views on a certain subject. I would feel wrong if I were to express anything that I didn’t believe in. I write what I like to write. Those who like to listen to it, listen to it. And the ones who don’t, watch football and drink beer, jog, go to discos and so forth. I never claimed to be a man for all seasons."

-Frank Zappa

Don't be cool

"Somewhere along the line most people pick up the desire to be a cool person, which is just another way to make them buy things. Once you’ve decided that you need to be a cool person, it makes you a possible victim of anyone whose products are the equivalent of bottled smoke. Somebody tells you to buy this particularly useless item and you’ll be a cool person. No matter how stupid it seems, you have to buy it. Pet Rocks. Pringle’s potato chips. whatever it is — the newest, the latest. Since the cool-person thing is something you learn in school, and since the school business is pretty suspicious and definitely tied up with the government, it makes you wonder whether or not the desire to be cool is part of a government plot to make you buy stupid things."

-

Frank Zappa

Blink and you'll miss it

Keats died from tuberculosis when he was what, 25? What is the deal with that, man? I mean, Marc Bolan, John Lennon, Federico Garcia Lorca, all these poet types that made you feel like they were something else, something not quite real life, something like the ancients, just die so fucking young, you know?
I mean can you guys just hang around for like five minutes before you do your kickflip over the stars.
This modern world has need of thee etc. 


P.S. Also Rimbaud and Pushkin both died at 37. 

All too human, aliens pls ignore

But this is human life: the war, the deeds, 
The disappointment, the anxiety,
Imagination’s struggles, far and nigh,  
All human; bearing in themselves this good, 
That they are sill the air, the subtle food, 
To make us feel existence, and to shew 
How quiet death is.


- John Keats, From Endymion