The title says it all. I have grown older, and I have realized the degree of my foolishness in much of life. Now, this old fool muses about the past and present, and how to have an impact in the world around him. *NOTE: Review the creative commons license on the site before sharing/linking.
So, I do enjoy music as a generally useful way for me to express and process emotion externally rather than succumb to the throes of it myself.
While I do enjoy it very much, I guess I'm also a bit cynical about it. I find different things to identify with, be it the mood of the music...the geometry of the melody...or even the lyrics themselves. But, rarely, do I find myself feeling much empathy with/for the actual artist composing the lyrics. After all, in my cynical worldview, most artists are quite self-serving exhibitionists - trying to demand the world share in their feelings. And yet, many of these "feelings" are magnifications of relatively minor life events, at least compared to the overall suffering in the world. Yes, you wrote an awesome song about heartbreak...when your 92nd girlfriend dumped you because she couldn't stand the celebrity spotlight and your coke habit. Sounds great, and even some good words...but not much empathy on this end for WHY you wrote it. I'll just enjoy it for what it brings to me, not what it brings to you. Not unlike the sick relationship between a john and a hooker - the john could care less why the hooker is doing it, or what drove her to it: he's here to enjoy himself, whether it be with a happy and well-adjusted individual living out a life of freedom and choice, or a wrecked emotional shell on last legs.
So, I admit...I love the music, but rarely the artists. I'm bad like that.
Anyway, a few artists have personally struck a chord with me over the years. I won't go into all of them right now, just the most recent one. I was watching a recording of a live concert James Blunt did this week, and I found out some more about his background and history of at least one of his songs. I must admit, I enjoyed his music, but never really dug deeper than that. Turns out he was quite the bright young man in school, coming from a long line of fine military men, and even did a stint in the service himself. He ended up in Kosovo in 1999 for part of his duties, and according to Wikipedia was the first British officer to enter the Kosovo capital. It was while in Kosovo that he penned the song "No Bravery" (see below).
Now, I liked this song to begin with. I thought it was good writing, and good music. I enjoyed his delivery of it on his album. But, to know the true depth behind the experience in the song, and specifically the event linked to the writing of those lyrics...made me enjoy the song that much more.
Not often that it happens, but when it does, it always makes me just a little bit happier for that week. :)
This one made me actually laugh...out loud....and heartily.
From: http://dilbert.com/strips/comic/2006-12-07/
I've actually sat in cubicles within earshot of the dreaded "person with a-hole significant other that MUST call incessantly every 25 seconds until their beloved...or object of their possessive obsession...finally picked up.
From: http://dilbert.com/strips/comic/2003-07-04/
I have actually attended this meeting:
From: http://dilbert.com/strips/comic/2004-01-18/
Hehehehehehehehehehe....liberal art's majors. :)
From: http://dilbert.com/strips/comic/2005-04-28/
From: http://dilbert.com/strips/comic/2005-04-29/
The true work-life balance equation at MOST places...
From: http://dilbert.com/strips/comic/2005-05-24/
From: http://dilbert.com/strips/comic/2005-05-27/
Reasonable - meet your natural enemy...
From: http://dilbert.com/strips/comic/2005-07-07/
This is no exaggeration. I've been in the meeting where the guy that wasn't there was given the same treatment in absentia...
From: http://dilbert.com/strips/comic/2007-10-04/
--
The Old Fool
“If liberty means anything at all it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.” -George Orwell.
Quotes by Scott Adams, either as himself or as one of his characters (many from "Stick to Drawing Comics, Monkey Brain!):
"Sad ness is just another word for not enough coffee." - Wally
"Science is a good thing. news reporters are good things, too. But it's never a good idea to put them in the same room." - Scott Adams
"If you think that offering excellent reasons for your thinking will change anyone's mind, you might be new on this planet." - Scott Adams
"It's important to agree with people if you want them to think you are a genius. For most people, the definition of smart is 'Thinks exactly like me, but even more so'." - Scott Adams
"My favorite conspiracy theory is the one that says the world is being run by a handful of ultra-rich capitalists, and that our elected governments are mere puppets. I sure hope it's true. Otherwise my survival depends on hordes of clueless goobers electing competent leaders." - Scott Adams
The visitor steels himself. Decided upon his unpleasant task, He braces and widens the breach. A peephole becomes a gash.
The piercing light dispels the gray, Dancing off the dry, dusty air. Illumination invading areas long dark, Exposing the gray drabness, dispelling dusk.
The Old Fool pauses mid-greeting, Interrupting the welcome of a guest long gone Something is not right, something's awry. Intruders, party crashers, personae non-gratae!
The visitor lowers himself into the room, Standing in the bright center of light Cast by the gash across the gray cocoon's walls. Backlight by the breach, his presence an outline.
The Old Fool stares aghast at this mirage, This ghostly intruder into the Ballroom's troupe Though milky eyes are no longer reliably sharp, The invader's presence looms unequivocally.
This unwelcome guest, his own Red Masque of Poe, Can bring no welcome news, no additional joy. Frozen in place by Prospero's fears revived, The Old Fool trembles as the apparition draws near.
The visitor approaches slowly, gingerly, gently, Not wishing more harm than will already be done. At last, face-to-face with the tired old man, The Visitor gently, kindly, sorrowfully reaches out.
Touching the withered, dusty shoulder, the Visitor says, "Friend, you don't know me, and I know you not. But I looked in your Ballroom, and was compelled by this sight. I am ashamed to admit, I fought the urge to take flight."
The Old Fool flinches, this touch though gentle and light Feels repellent, repugnant, dangerous, and unwelcome. He hears the words, but cannot understand how this intruder Could consider the splendor surrounding them a plea for succor.
But even as the Old Fool opens his dry, dusty mouth to retort The shimmer and glow seems to take on a pallor, The epicenter of this grayscale shift centered on the visitor The Old Fool closes his mouth, and reels at the unfolding sight.
"No!" the Fool finally gasps. "Whoever you are, whatever you want, Please, leave me tonight. Let me welcome the rest of my guests. Let me dance to the music, let me enjoy the kitchen's delights. Whatever you thought to say, I beg...stay your tongue - at least one more night."
The gentle grip becomes firmer, a grasping motion by the visitor. He centers himself before the Old Fool, looking straight in the dusky eyes. The voice of the visitor, thought firm, sounds gentle and filled with sadness, "No, my friend. I cannot leave you here, not like this, not tonight."
"Condemned only by your own heart, but condemned nonetheless, I cannot leave you here to toil through another fruitless excursion through limbo. It is time to awake, to accept, and yes - even to suffer, my friend. Together we will walk out of this farce, this lie, this facade and welcome life again."
As the visitor continued to speak, the milky eyes darted about in growing horror, As the glittering room seemed to shimmer at an increasing rate, Yet growing grayer and dimmer with each pass of the eye, like approaching a desert mirage, The shimmering waters always receding, at each step being replaced by dry, dusty sand.
"NO!" The gasp becomes a plaintive wail. "Mercy, mercy I beg! Leave me be, Leave me be, you menacing beast, you Masque, you Gray Death! Stop changing the room, stop casting your spell, just leave me to my guests. Go! Go! Go, and let your dusky mirage follow you on out and back down to hell"
With tears in his eyes, the visitor draws the sobbing man close, Though the Fool pushes away, the strength has long gone from these old, dusty bones Leaning in towards the ear, the visitor whispers as he cradles the frail body, "They have gone, long ago, my friend. And now it is time for you to let them all go."
The sobbing Old Fool's last strength sweeps away, stopping his futile struggle. The sobs slow down, and the Fool speaks again, though hushed and low - nearly a whisper. "I tried, long ago...I tried, and I failed. Now, please let me return to my failure. Let and old man spend his days with those cherished and dear, those loved and admired."
"Look up, my friend, look up and see me. See me, and see the real, do this, I beg." The Old Fool hesitates, pauses, delays - unwilling to take the next step, And yet, consumed by a morbid desire to know the face of his tormentor, the Fool slowly complies. As his eyes rest upon the shape of his torment, the proximity sharpens the features once gone.
The Fools eyes widen, his surprise naked and evident, as the countenance comes into focus. "No! You cannot be..." the Fool blurts out, but the visitor interrupts quickly, "I am not the person you think of. At least not quite. I am his son, his only progeny. And when I was a child, he would tell me stories, but the saddest of all he kept from me."
"But when he passed, I discovered his letters, and came across your own correspondence, And then his subsequent notes about what he believed had once transpired. Worst of all, I discovered a clue as to your fate, but could never surmise a location. I searched far and wide, and have found you at last, and I'm here to free you from your nightly repast."
By now, the Fool's gaze is focused solely upon his unwelcome guest with the face so familiar, And as he does, the sounds of the music fade, the scents of the kitchen vanish, And finally the true pallor of gray settles over the rest of the area. As the Old Fool looks into the familiar, yet new, face...the room comes back into focus.
With a cold shiver, the Fool slowly looks around the unmasked room, it's truth now denuded. And the horrible reality of that truth takes grip in his heart. With a low moan, so horrible and painful that the visitor starts and then trembles, The Old Fool confronts the true scope of the loss - the one loss most unbearable.
"No! No! No! I cannot...I cannot. Please, please, please...do not make me remember..." "But you must, my friend. Remember, and be free." "I cannot, I must not. Don't do this to me, I beg you, grant mercy and kindness, in the name of your father!" "This is the mercy, this is the kindness, and this is done in the name you invoked."
"They are gone, my friend. Gone one by one, they have moved on to rest and peace. All but one. One who has chosen suffering, despair, and delusion as a prison. And yet, a prison built by his own two hands, condemned by his heart to an infinite term. The time has come for you to let them go...free them, and free yourself."
The Old Fool returns his gaze to those kind, blue green eyes...
A wandering old fool. See the blog's title and description.
George Orwell: “If liberty means anything at all it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.”
"But if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought."
"Each generation imagines itself to be more intelligent than the one that went before it, and wiser than the one that comes after it."
"People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf."
"Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past."
Albert Einstein: “The world is a dangerous place, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing.”
"Most people say that is it is the intellect which makes a great scientist. They are wrong: it is character."
Ayn Rand: "Government "help" to business is just as disastrous as government persecution... the only way a government can be of service to national prosperity is by keeping its hands off."
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