Wednesday, July 29, 2009

You goin' west come May / just stay the same (tim barry, wait at milano)

frank o'hara said in,
'to the film industry in crisis':

in times of crisis, we must all decide again and again whom we love.
and give credit where it's due: not to my starched nurse, who taught me
how to be bad and not bad rather than good (and has lately availed
herself of this information), not the catholic church
which is at best an oversolemn introduction to cosmic entertainment,
not to the american legion, which hates everybody, but to you,
glorious silver screen, tragic technicolor, amorous cinemascope,
stretching vistavision and startling stereophonicsound, with all
your heavenly dimensions and reverberations and iconoclasms!

--------------------
my head has felt a lil all over the place lately. but, i have been thinking hard on what i love about art & writing & music & film. it's important to know what you like, exactly. i originally wanted to have a blog just to ramble on a bit about whatever was in my mind but haven't really done it too much. i wanna get to that more. i really love americana lately. the boss, whitman, ginsberg, something 'epic' feeling stretched, the very scope of experience stretched outwards. i love tim barry. i think along the lines of songwriter/subtle performer he is the next of the best, or is the best, or has been the best. below are the lyrics for 'avoiding catatonic surrender'--commentary on american experience pre-or at the cusp of war circa early-to-mid 00's. youtube has a bunch of his videos, but me being so bad with techn. i can't figure out how to load a video here. 'wait at milano' is superb. all of it, really.


Avoiding Catatonic Surrender, Tim Barry

It’s lonely in the Garden State, the place of no left turns

In a motel 6 in East Brunswick smoking till my lungs burn

I put ice in the trash can to cool down my beer

Breathe in the perfume in the room of the person last here

I can’t stand this singing

I can’t stand this song

I can’t stand being home, but I can’t stand being gone

My ears ring when it’s quiet and I ain’t hear a thing all day

And I’d call if I could but right now I ain’t got nothing to say

And so on

And so long

Can’t keep singing these songs

Too long

So on

First night we met we fucked on the couch in my living room

And spent the morning pretending it didn’t happen, searching for your lost phone

Which I found between the cushions below a pile of our clothes

You said you couldn’t leave without it, Lord, I should have kept my eyes closed

I left for work directly then for a fifteen hour day

Made just over a hundred bucks, none of which I ever saved

Didn’t hear too much from you before, never heard from you again

Cause as soon as this shit starts, boy it’s, it’s bound to end

And so on

And so long

Can’t keep singing these songs

Too long

And so on

I throw empty beer cans at the TV when I’m watching the news

I hate republicans, I hate democrats, I hate liberals too

I think pacifists are weak, and violence is wrong

But I go limp for police and I fight when it’s called for

The truth is I don’t know or care with who or where I fit in at all

But I keep on living simple, riding fast and living slow

I write standard boring songs with boring standard chords

Just like the best and the worst, verse chorus, verse chorus, bridge, repeat

And so on

So long

Can’t keep singing these songs

Too long

And so on

And so on

And so long

I can’t keep singing these songs

And so on

So on