Weblog Idylls, Vol 2
can be found here.

We'll see
you there.

Generation Divide V

Fiction has a way
of describing our
relationship with
generations, too.
Anakin to Luke
comprised two
generations, indeed
two eras, but again,
that was set in
the past. In the
future, Kirk to
Picard had a distance
of the better part
of a century, and
both captains
managed to almost
completely dominate
their eras, even as
they were pointedly
marked as generations.
When they met, Kirk
met his final fate,
and what was recently
described as an
illustration of
his legacy was framed
in two words: "Oh my..."

Wizardry might be
divided in three
generations:
Dumbledore to Voldemort
to Harry's family,
though the whole saga
might be understood
best all linked together.
The Justice Society
and the Invaders
marked out WWII times,
though their successors
are forever pegged
in whatever becomes
the modern age, because
creators didn't really
become inspired
until they created
the second generations,
the persisting era,
which everyone may be
agreeing can just about
subside, with the death
of Steve Rogers, the bridge
between traditions.

Times like these,
only Robert Langdon
can unite readers
outside Hogwarts,
but his movie can't,
times like these,
the Columbine Generation,
the 9/11 world where
only America and
the last man in the room
can be bold enough
to envision change,
can look past
"what's well enough alone"
to see things should
and can be improved
not just kept in stasis,
but the new terrorists
breed in the old institutions,
convince us there's
no right to action,
just a will to power,
born into politics
for their own sake,
just out of tradition,
like a mindless march
where ideals are kept
but never lived up to,
promises made because
they sound good and
opposite of your enemies,
while the terror of knowing
persists, for anyone
to bother seeing,
to comprehend.

Ours is a generation
bred for war.

Oh my...

Generation Divide IV

What I like about history
is that the concept
of the divide becomes
that much more blurred.
In our own time, we
seem stuck in with Boomers
and Generation X,
which have less to do
with events than general
understandings, eras.

Yeah, eras, that's
what it used to be
about. But we blurred
that something good,
that was our contribution.

Back in history, it
was far more amusing.
Homer wrote about
the end of the heroic era,
the great war at Troy,
where Nestor fought
in old age, to serenade
Achilles, who became
the most famous warrior
of any era, with tales
of Heracles, Jason,
and such legends.
Who can fathom the leap
from the two extremes?
Not today. Today
there are no legends,
just a sad lot of heroes,
all fiction, all who
struggle to keep
our attention.

In the time of eras,
perhaps before we started
to count world wars,
(and forever imagine
the next ones)
generations were within
families, and not much more.
They were far less abstract.

Generation Divide III

See, now I just
never got why
they put Jackson
on the twenty.

He was the guy
who said he
wanted to kill
the bank, right?
And that's not
even why I don't
like him. But
he posits some
interesting things
about generations,
such as that he
was ten years old
when the US became
a country, and was
thus probably
the first president
to have more of
an interest in 1812,
when Madison sort of
proved the country
was on its own feet,
than in the Revolution.

He also had a lot
to worry about
with the emerging
two-party system,
which has by now
all but declared
a new secession
(but no one
would ever say so!),
back when we
wore wigs, too.

Jackson, for whom
the vague concept
of Jacksonianism
was born (I always
need to research more),
was a sort of
transition, from
(and he had to
defeat Quincy,
the final Adams
of ignominy,
to get there)
a time of Founders
to a gradual
decline, from where
the world would
at last be opened.

You might as well
call Jacksonianism
a generation,
a generation divide,
from which would spring
the new world revolution

Generation Divide II

It's not at all
likely, but had
Lincoln not been
assassinated,
next year he'd be
two hundred,
about two years
from the Confederacy
reaching 150.

Lincoln ended up
being one of those
odd fellows. He
actually made his
name twice on
the issue of
emancipation,
once in debates
he lost to Douglas,
and again when
he actually
proclaimed it.

And yet, today
you can't get
away from the talk
that suggests
he didn't much
care about it.

Today, of course,
there are no
great men, not
since we conjured
one out of the last
guy to be shot dead
(somebody remind
poor Garfield's
ghost that he
lost out in that
lottery, too).

Reagan invented
Reagonomics, but
apparently
that's all he did,
after Nixon went
to China and before
Clinton bathed himself
in primary colors.

Clinton sent us off
into a number
of international
conflicts, but he
still gets no flack,
possibly because
they ended in "ia,"
and that's acceptable.

Bush should've said
he wanted to go to
Arabia.

But Lincoln,
he was one of
those guys
we used to think
a great deal of.

Maybe not so much
anymore. But he'd
no doubt have
something great
to say about it.

Generation Divide

Each man is an island,

which is why
I never understood
the concept
of generations.

A generation
is merely a group
of people
who were born
at the same time,
who thus share
common experiences.

Other than that,
you can never
guarantee a similarlity,
even within a family.

I know,
I've got
two of each,
brothers and sisters,
and things
are not always
the same.

I think
a generation divide
occurs less literally
than people think.
A person who
can be understood
as unique
may be better
understood
in different context,
or your perception
of them
altered.

Some people
are said to be
ahead of their time.
Others may be behind.
Time is the constant
that defines
all our lives,
yet we don't always
understand how.

That's the question
of the generation divide.

Talking to Bullfrogs in the Middle of the Night

The status of the revolution
cannot be quantified.

The status of the revolution
cannot be studied in a lab.

The status of the revolution
cannot be a great concern.

The status of the revolution
cannot be denied.

The status of the revolution
cannot be quite understood.

The status of the revolution
is that we're looking right at it
and it is looking back.

Alone with the Myths

A long time ago,
my oldest brother
became a fan of
the Phillies.
We grew up in
Red Sox Nation,
but at the carnival,
he won a Phillies cap,
and so he became
fascinated with
the teams of Philadelphia.

A combination
of the color green,
a baseball card
(marked with ink
by my mother)
of Mark McGwire
on his USA team,
and the fact
that they were
winning a lot
and thus famous,
made me a fan
of the A's.

But really, most people
make their allegiances
based solely on region.

So when I moved
to Colorado,
the last thing
I was expecting
when the Patriots
reached the Super Bowl
(again) was for that
awesome support
to be missing.
These people
just didn't care.

Gaiman wrote about
migrating peoples
bringing their faiths
with them to new lands,
where a shadow of
the old gods would linger,
eventually replaced
by new ones.

That's what happens
in melting pots,
things are burned away,
but then again,
that's the belief.

The truth is,
the hold-outs are
always there, and
those are the individuals,
the ones who cling
where others dream,
who follow teams
out of region
for whatever reason.

They end up
alone with the myths,
the deadliest sport
there is.

Chaos Is Better Than Disorder

To all those who fixate
on the alleged failures
and outright lies,
let me tell you that
I am sick and tired
that there is
no end of sighs.

If the truth be told,
it's that you long ago
made up your minds
on the matter,
and not because
of anything you'd
heard in the news,
but for the endless
bickering you felt
necessary to maintain,
even on the last night
of the State, when
you said you weren't.

I'm tired of it,
and history will make
a fool of you yet,
and you're never going
to care, because
that's never
what you were
interested in.

Chaos is better
than disorder,
a true sense of progress
better than tyranny
left to go unchecked.
And yes,

some days are
better than others.

That will always be true.

No Country Day

Today is
No Country Day,
sanctioned
by no one,
celebrated
by anyone
who cares
to embrace it.

No Country Day
is an arbitrary
decision made
on behalf
of arbitrary
people, who
are young
and old, lost
and found,
who are not known
by many others
beyond themselves.

No Country Day
is celebrated
exactly as you like,
maybe on this day
and maybe on
any other.

Again,
No Country Day
is arbitrary,
to be enjoyed by
a fake somebody
for a real nobody
world.

That's the only
requirement

'Scapin'

Didn't think
I'd find it
again, but
here I am
and there'll
be no stopping
me, because
I strike like
there's no one
watching.

That may be
because
there isn't.

Things Be

That's all
there really is
to know.

God is in the Machine of War

Ellah knows...

The truth is,
sending off to war
is to invite a loss
of identity, a loss
of a sense of self.

War is costly,
that much
everyone
understands.
The French
risked and lost
everything
to give
the American colonists
a fighting chance.

A lot of things
haven't been the same
since.

Malick made
a Vietnam movie
set in WWII,
like a slap
in the face
to those
who still
believed
that war
wasn't a curse
to America.

I tell you,
times are hard.
People are
surprised
that this man
called Petraeus
is achieving
results, a general,
because we
haven't known
true military prowess
since we trumped it up,
either set against
an American flag,
or with Schwarzkopf
and Powell, the man
who took the fall.
All the soldiers
in politics now,
fought in
ignominy.
The last one
to obtain office
was a celluloid cowboy.

***

We all have
our battles.
I suppose
as good a reason
as any
to walk,
is the thought
that I may
eventually
get run over.
It will be
a victimless crime,
the driver
won't have struck
another vehicle,
and I will have had
it coming,
just another vagrant
on the road.

***

It's hard to say
what war is.

War is
a means to
contend issues,
of whatever kind,
just a way
to act out
aggression.

War is
a melody,
the refrain
of civilization.

War is
no different now
than it has ever been,
and yet
at the same,
nothing resembling
what it used
to be.

War is
wrong
but
war is.

War is
an excuse
to say
give peace a chance,
even though
we would never
know it
if it came.

War is
not combat
but a faceless extension
of the basic intolerance
man holds against
himself.

War is
because
war has to be.

***

I would like
to think
the Metaphysics of Value
guarantee
all this
has been no big waste
of time,
but there is never
such a guarantee.

Clooney, Boy, You End That Strike

The worst thing
about the writers
striking
is that they're
fighting
for nothing.

I tall ya,
downloading
is the new
premium cable,
the thing
a bunch of
people do,
is a really
cool thing,
but eventually
is not going
to replace
what's already
there. It just
ain't gonna
happen.

Well, it will,
at some point,
just like
premiukm cable
will go
standard.
They'll probably
happen
at the same time.

So, Clooney,
just remind them
of that, so TV
isn't ruined
forever. The movies,
I say if they spent
some time
revisiting classics
in the theater,
that wouldn't
be a problem
for a while.

Still, I admire
the strikers,
because they stand
together
for something
they believe in,
for a generally
good cause.

The people
toiling away
in retail
would never
actually do that,
even though
they experience
the biggest
lunacy
around.

I work in
a bookstore.
Just tell me
the number of ways
it's not idiotic,
and that's before
I ever reach
the customer,
who's illiterate.

I'd love
to rally
the staff
around
smarter business,
but they'd
never
go for it.

Yet the writers
strike, just
like that,
for months now,
disrupting
Jack and his
lost friends.

I want to
join them,
writing,
that is,
but this
is just as
well.

Strike!

Make things fair!

And all that!

Then resolve
things, and
get back
to work,
because
we like
what you do
there
too.

Metaphysics of a Puppet Show

I think
I've figured
it out.

Pay them.

All the nations
in the world
can get in
on it.

The Third World
can be payed
for the thing
we already spend
so much on.

Do the numbers show,
we spend so much
on entertainment,
sometimes just
financing a movie
production, mostly
just enjoying it,
there's just
no longer an excuse
to say people
earn money
solely on the basis
of a hard day's
labor, on things
we need
to survive.

Pay them.
It doesn't
matter if they
entertain.
Stick a camera
in the Third World,
pretend they're
a reality show.

Pay them,
let them feed
themselves,
but let them be
and if the world
they have
has nothing,
then let's
not pretend
to give them things
anymore.

Just pay them.
They're in
a puppet show
just like
anyone else.

There's simply
no excuse
pretending we
can't carry
the load of humanity,
why we must take
ill-management
as the excuse.

We're
in the business
of management,
ourselves
and those around us.

So let's quit
dancing around it
and do it.

Charity is a thing
of the past,
certainly noble,
but completely
unnecessary.

Some people
will always be hogs,
but the rest of us
must do
what we must,
and let the show
continue.

Who Is Al Gore Anyway? (a note from the future found in a lockbox)

As far as
I can tell,
some kind of
lecturer, a
doomsayer
it would seem,
who kept
popping up
in Futurama,
possibly because
his daughter
wrote for it.


Oh, I know!
He was the guy
who made G's
election
so interesting,
and gave
the Democrats
an excuse
to revenge for
the 1990s.

Oh! And the guy
who played
Willy Wonka's
bureaucratic,
deadpan boss
on SNL.

Otherwise,
yeah! Clin Ton's
vice prez!

The dude
was happening.

Pity he
never ran
again,
after he
figured out
how to be
a politician.
(He might have
spared us
the hat trick,
President Chelsea.)

Metaphysics of the Road

Being cut off
from the awareness
of history,
of context,
may be another
stumbling block
for man.

It's oblivion,
the art of being
oblivious,
the lack of a thing
which drives you
while you do not
know it, off the road.

Reconnecting,
knowing again
what we all know
but sometimes
choose to ignore
may be what saves us,
if we choose.

Knowing
is an art,
knowing
what there is
to know
and what you
may know
yourself,
about
yourself,
that is
the thing.

That is what
we should
advocate.

It is the spirit
of leaving
no child
behind.

Quit
making
excuses.

Metaphysics of Nick Callaghan, Danny Archer, and the Third World

There's something amiss
in the world, and sometimes
people pay attention to it.

Some people are living
just to survive.
Some people are living
as if there's no hope.
Some people are living
for that next meal,
just like your mother
always told you.

They're starving,
and I don't
understand why.

I get that their
governments, their
armies, are terrible
and all that.

I get that trouble
and need have been
in their way.

I don't understand
how even if we
make constant appeals
and adopt their babies
and just make a relief
for a day, it
continues.

What is it
that makes Ellah
forsake a continent?

Life began there, yes?
Must life persist
in misery
like a metaphor
to punish us all?

Their lives are our lives
and a reflection
and a distortion
and everything
that can go wrong
and nothing
that can go right.

Where is the culture?
Culture, as I
understand it,
is the way we
break through,
find our own reality,
and in that way,
lift ourselves up
from the things
we could not change.

I think if you want
to save a third world
(if they must be
removed, even
metaphorically,
and that first world found),
you help them find
themselves. They must be
reminded
they're human.

To be human
is to be divine,
the engine of creation,
which is the arts.

Ellah is a renaissance man,
he knows many trades,
made the wings,
calculated the smile.

Living like a refugee
can't be easy,
but you can sing
your blues away.

We must be at the point
now that if we can't join
politically, then we can
through the only
common language,
which is song,
which is story,
which is art.

I think if
there is
a New World,
it must be found
there,
the new Rome,
found in
the New Fade,
found in time.

We'll reach it.

Fuck You Bob Woodward

Cynics can be
a bad thing.

Bob is a cynic.
Bob believes because
he once brought down
a president, his
whole reputation must
follow from that day,
no more investigating,
no introspection or
thought.

That's what he does.
He writes books
people expect
from him, or as
he thinks they do,
because it makes
him feel good,
like the old Bob
from the movie.

After all,
nobody likes Nixon
but everyone loves Bob,
and as the nation goes,
so does Bob,
creating a President's Bob
out of G,
whether it's reality
or not, just because
no one actually
wants
to think about it.

There're some good
times to think
like that,
in absolutisms,
but there are
certainly times
when it's not.

Bob, you chose
the latter and
you staked your name
on it. So yeah,

fuck you Bob.

Guy and Ice

You and I both knew
and that's what
makes it so hard,
because now it seems
as if the past tense
should stay, that
you forgot when
you went away
and you don't have
much left to say,
and partly it's
my fault, because
I went, too, and
maybe that made
it seem like
I no longer cared, too,
but the trouble is,
I do,
but I'm starting
to wonder
if I should.

Or Have You No Taste For Conflict When You No Longer Profit?

It goes without
saying for everyone
except those who
don't speak it,
but yeah.

And we all know it.

It's just that,
in the history of
the world,
it might even be
that there was
more punishment
than crime.

Kintyre's Pipes

Such is the predicament
of music these days
that when someone
hears something
out of their ordinary
experience, they think
it's daft, an embarrasment
to be swept away,
even if it's in no way
something to be
ashamed of.

Paul was the only guy
who understood what
everyone was really
getting at, and
when he pointed it out,
suddenly everyone
realized that's
not what they meant,
and that sort of
explains why he's
not respected
like he should be.

He's an icon
and a joke
at the same time.
If John were still
around, people
would flock to him.
If George, still
to Paul, curiously,
because George,
in his reflective way,
always gave off the
same vibes Paul
unearthed, which
made George all
spooky funny,
if generally
respected, like
an elder, even though
he died pretty young.

It's the same thing
that's happening
with Bob, and
the reason Jack
and his lost sheep
are no longer
so favored
in the culture,
because they have
struck on what's
really going on,
rather than what's
cool. They would never
leave on a blank screen.

Maybe it's because
I've been amazed at music
for most of my life
that I can still
appreciate what Paul
does, what he's been up to
since the band broke up,
even though I haven't
followed it all along
(granted, for some of
that time, I was't
actually here).

Music, I think,
ought to be something
we don't have to follow
to know. Some of it
is the public consciousness,
but some of it we need
to find, because
it should be found, like
buried treasures of history.
Not evertything of value
is out in the open.
The Metaphysics say
Value can be found,
even when lost.
Some things are
overlooked,
but they're
still there.

Out there,
on a mull.

God Part 3

If there's
a good reason
for everything
I almost think
I'd rather not
know. The reason
cannot possibly
be better
than what I imagine,
what I'm able
to make of it.

What if what
I thought
was worse
or better?

Like I said,
I think
I'd rather
not know,

so it's a good thing
that we can never
really know
if there is,
it makes us
who we are
rather than
what we should be,
because that person
would be
a stranger
and not
ourselves,
and we really
should know
what we know,
and not
what should be.

It keeps you
on
your toes,
honest
at least with
yourself.

Passengers' Original Soundtracks

Would you stand up
and walk out on me
if I chose to
do it again,
be another band,
be another song,
another melody?

Was it so wrong
for me to carry a tune
when all the rest
were at it as well?

Sometimes I don't
understand, but
there's also the divide
between the coasts
to consider,
where Robbie drowned
and the world's
biggest band
joined the fate
of everyone else
from their time,
especially Hootie.

That's just the
times we live in,
mates, the grand old
time, where daddy's
going to find your
blue room
and give it
a libretto,
and hope it's
forgot,
because that's
just what happens
these days days days.

Prospekt

I try to protekt
but that's not really
who I am,
what I mean,
what I stand for,
protekt and serve
epiphanies,
the coming of
wise men
who know not
what they do.

I try to protekt
and it all comes
alive and I feel
electric and
ready to take on
the world
like it wasn't
already mine.
I do what I can
and sometimes
it's enough.

I try to protekt
and it goes
like a rush
and feels better
which is what
I was going for
and hoping to
throw my hands
around the whole
world, like a
glove.

The Americans Are Due to Invade

The Roman circus
is in town,
and it's being led
by Uncle Sam.

Well, that's
someone's
sentiment, and I
don't buy it.

The world is led
by countries
that feed it,
and that's true
throughout history.

If America is Rome,
then so be it,
but it's no
empire
and those
who believe the myth
of its perfect past,
are the real fools,
the barbarians at the gate.

True, the Greatest
were at the beginning
(not last century, Tom),
but that's because
we allowed their
vision to be born,
before we began
a systematic effort
to dismantle that
engine
and allow
mediocrity and mistrust
to rule, as it has
for most of the last
two centuries.

The American barbarians
rant and they rave
like true imbeciles,
and they fail
to appreciate
what it is
that's been
happening.

That's a much more fun story
for another day.

But in the meantime,
look out, it's we
who invade.

Procol Harum

Oh, Dawkins,
the passion you
place
in your athiest
beliefs
makes me wonder
what it was
beyond science
that
got Douglas
so enamored
of you.

Maybe
a great sense
of humor?

Lots of people
read stuff
just because
the writing's
good.
And that's
all
they read,
like a waste
of their time.

Maybe it's because
I prefer
buried things,
or words said
once more,
with feeling,
that I wish
everyone
saw beyond the surface,
understood why
some things are tough
when they should be,
when they have
to be,
how they can never
not to be,

in contrast
to those
we make tough
for no good reason
at all.

What's So Great About a Fence?

Seriously,
it's been
confusing me.

Here,
they love them,
sometimes for
no reason,
and with signs
that have
no purpose.

My childhood
was splayed
by a fence;
it was a big deal,
then I think
they moved away,
leaving the fence.

So what happens
when something
like that
is left
and its
original purpose
gone?

Maybe
you could
tell me.

Make it
in small words,
so we both know,
or in big ones,
so someone
may be
amused.

Either way,
I just don't see
what's so great
about a fence.

I think
it just gets
in the way.

If you wanted
privacy,
theoretically
the building
already gives
that,
with its walls,
unless you have
glass walls
or like
to strut around
in the nude,
or play baseball.

But that
can be done
in the street.

Fall of the House of Bush

They stoned him
before he did no good

They stoned him
just because they could

They stoned him
like you knew they would

Yeah, it was just the time
to stone the man.

In a time when the Culture Wars
rage on, the last remnants
of the aborted efforts
to rewrite history,
the misplaced radicals
who live on and cast
the first stone,
will finally get their wish,
the man will be gone.

Trouble is,
he'll be walking away,
walking away
and he'll be fine,
once history
makes sense
of everything,
all his mistakes
and blunders
and justifies
his paranoia,
the mad fight
in the War on Terror,

begun long before his time,
back during previous wars,
before it became
so obvious,
with a few planes
and all the efforts afterward.

In the 25th hour,
things aren't so clear,
and that's where
he is now,
waiting,
making his way,
living his own illusions,
joining the fray,
little by little,
no one traveling with him,
and everyone,
who just don't know it,
the past and the present
and the future.

Everything falls,
every house crumbles,
all the legacies burn
but the mind remembers
and the good remains
long after the bad lingers.

Metaphysics of the Modern Pirate

I had been trying
to argue about
Bob Dylan and
his current state
of affairs,
and said he
made music
rather than songs
now.

There is,
in his case,
no real
distinction,
and let me
make this
perfectly clear:

Bob has always made music.

He made music
when he made songs
and music when
he made songs.
In his current phase,
as I discovered,
he became
Stevie Ray,
after the
other one
moved on,

but nothing
has really changed.
Bob is still Bob.

This is
the difference:

For most artists,
what you hear
are songs,
and on their
albums,
filler,
and as such,
the argument
about Internet
piracy
is probably
accurate
for modern music.

There is no
distinction
between
albums
and
tracks,
no new order,
just a
new order,
a personal radio player,
an iRadio,
if you wlll.

Bob, even when
he blew them away
in Newport,
strumming away electric,
was following his heart,
that's all he did,
followed the music,
followed the heart,
which knew best,
and not the people,
what the music wanted.

He started out in folk,
and made his way
to the blues.
He's the Blues Brother,
brother,
a friend to you and me,
but mostly
to music.
Those who don't dig it

can't hear.

But man,
you listen to
the music today,
and you hear
how bad it's
going to get,
that we're all
going to be
surfing the iRadio,
and you think,

well, that was
always
going to be
the future,
it's just
some idiots,
the wave
of the future,
the youth of America
and elsewhere,
channeling their powers
not for good,
but for their ease,
saying we don't have to pay it,

but not for
anything meaningful,
but for their own
selfish means,
for music,
for the tracks,
for the song,
for their own private radio,
the iRadio, the Ellah of culture.

They have
nothing better
to do? No
greater cause?
The Pirates of the Modern Age
steal music?

Tell me
another one.
Please, I need
a laugh, I know
how the culture
treats itself,
like an unworthy parent.

Bob, he does
what he does,
he makes music,
folk or blues
or whatever
you hear,
modern times,
right?
Maybe the album
becomes extinct,
maybe everyone
makes rainbows
and supports
themselves, make
their names,
by playing live,
by tapping back
into the reason
musc came about
in the first place,
and maybe someone
wants to remember
that performance,
the whole thing,
not just a song,
and so dives
into the Community Web
for that collection,
because there was
more than one song
worth keeping.

I don't know,
I'm a fossil,
a relic,
a luddite,
what have you,
I don't believe in
Ellah, I don't hear
the iRadio,
I'm not that selfish,
even though I'm
more isolated
than the culture
that is,
that does.
I never heard Bob
strike it in Newport,
but I think I understand
the man so many
consider our poet.

Yo ho ho, Mr. Tamberine,
go play the music for me,
all with a bottle of rum,
because there's the waters
we plow, the great
and raging sea.

A Wish in the Wash

Continue on dreaming,
for that is what you can do
when things keep working against you

Try to keep up,
run to stand still,
little white noises are going to ruin your day

and then have that happy new year!