Tomorrow

“Tomorrow, is the first blank page of a 365 page book. Write a good one.”

~ Brad Paisley

It occurs to me, as the mental radio is of my own making, then the songs played on it are also mine to choose.

Tomorrow

If I turned off my mental radio and stopped, just stopped… If I stopped and really thought about it all, I would most likely burst into tears.

crying-girl

I would burst into tears like some sort of overly pampered priss, while flailing about in an impotent rage. Rage in all that has passed, and in all that has not. All that has fallen apart, and all that has stubbornly stayed put. I would mourn the death of innocence in two young lives, and the two open doors that I could not walk through alone and, as such, could not walk through at all. I would weep over the pile of bodies that 2012 is leaving behind, and the swath of aborted dreams that were mowed down throughout its three hundred and sixty five days and nights.

So to avoid this, I will not turn my mental radio off. I will instead keep the cacophony at ear-deafening volumes, while I snuggle my mind deep within the distraction and cool warmth of its noise. I will keep my rage directed towards nonsensical things, things hardly deserving the sort of hate to be bestowed upon them. And I will do so in the hopes that in so doing I can slowly bleed it out, run it dry. Empty myself of the stuff in order to fill the newly open void with something better. Something positive.

Before I do so however, I would simply like to add:

2013, I am ready for a fresh start. Please Jesus, please – I am ready for Tomorrow.

“You say there’s a horse in your bathroom, and all you can do is stand there naming Beatles songs?”

Still in search of that “special something” for the “special someone” in your special life?

Well, you’re a tad bit screwed if you haven’t found it by now.

OR,

You could still save the day, by simply purchasing for them the gift that everyone on the planet – young and old alike – would simply adore: a book written by Douglas Adams!

Don’t believe me? Click here for my latest 1001 Books To Read Before You Die review, and then run out and buy a box load for the entire family to enjoy!

Please click here to check out all my reviews for the 1001 Books team.

Dirk+Gently+Holistic+Detective+Agency

Merry Christmas Eve everyone.

Here’s hoping that 2013 will be kind, and wholly unlike the year that preceded it.

Now, without further ado, the second bestest Christmas song ever:

Briefly… The December the 22nd, 2002 edition

“Nothing in the world can take the place of Persistence.
Talent will not. There is nothing more common then unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not. Unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not. The world if full of educated derelicts. Persistence and Determination alone are Omnipotent.”
~ Joe Strummer

RIP Joe.

Picture 1August 21st, 1952 – December 22nd, 2002

•••

Post 300: Stranger Things…

ed. note: this was originally slated to appear on Monday, as that was actually my 300th post. Sadly, unforeseen events precluded this from occurring; but I’ve no regrets about the decision to postpone, nor the post that took this one’s place.

Picture 2

•••

“Douglas?”

“Yes Clive?”

“He’s forgotten about us, hasn’t he?”

“Clive, my friend, no. It’s worse than all that – he’s given up on us.”

“Why’d he do that?”

“I don’t know, my friend, I do not know. I suppose it could be said that it’s because one of us just struck too close to home, and the other, well not nearly enough to make a lock-tight and firm connection. Then again my friend, it might have just been that he never did have a real story formulated in the first place – no game plan to speak of, ya dig?”

“I suppose. But it was coming together Douglas! Well, somewhat any way. I mean there were ideas there – seeds. He even went so far as to research the proper name to be used for Tia; you know, in order to set up the ending. All that had to mean something, right? Right?”

“Clive, it only ever means anything if the writer doesn’t give up. He gave up, plain n’ true. Leaving you, me, Tia and all the rest in the dust. Just another amateur hack job story, collecting dust on the interwebs my friend, that’s all we are now.”

“But I could see how it was going to play out. How I was going to win in the end. How we were going to figure out exactly what you actually were.”

“But do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you know what I actually am?”

“Ummm, no.”

“See, neither did he, Clive. Neither did he.”

“So he gave up?”

“Clive, my man, I suppose he did.”

“Douglas?”

“Yes Clive?”

“Will I ever see you again?”

“You might. I mean he does have a daughter, right? And she’s a true and gifted writer. She may just someday find us, dust us off, and give it another go. Who knows, my friend? Stranger things have happened before.”

“Yes Douglas, stranger things have…”

Picture 1

•••

Listen, I don’t really “do” numbers. All but two of my forty-three birthdays have swam past with barely a notice. But for whatever reason, in Blogsville I’m always attentive to the “00” posts. I’ve no idea why, but they always seem the hardest to write, the easiest to muck up – evidence as to whether I’m an actual writer, or just some sort of “wanna-be housewife” with too much time on my hands, and a hollow dream in my head. As you can see from the above conversation, I have always felt fairly bad about running out on the boys, and decided to take the opportunity of using Post 300 to sort of apologize to them for doing so.

As with the other “00’s,” I want to thank you for coming along on my ride with me. It has been possibly the single most expanding experience I have had in learning just who in the hell I am, and I’m glad to have been able to share it with you all here =)

•••

PS: sometimes the most marvelous things can be found by simply throwing a random phrase into the Youtube search bar. As such, here’s Local Natives with – strangely enough – “Stranger Things.”

Briefly…

In keeping with the season, here’s my rather mopey entry for this week’s 100 Word Song.

I really do wish that you would play along.

See what I did there? How I made a sort of Christmas-like rhyme just now? That’s pretty cool, right?

Oh, and here’s the BEST version of this song EVER…

is Love alive?

O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear

Please, appear. Just appear. It’s time.

Israel is so much larger, scarier than it was before, and we have become a disease upon ourselves. We rape what we can’t have, we steal instead of earn, we lord over each other with wealth, and possession, and finery. We chase success instead of satisfaction, we ravage instead of grow. We hurt instead of heal. We hate instead of love. We turn everything that is blessed into a sin. Simply because. Simply because the two basic rules you gave us, rules that even a small child understands, we have decided we can not – will not – accomplish. We will NOT love you above all else. We will NOT love our neighbor as ourselves. We will not, damn You. You, in Your wisdom, offered us a choice. We, in our willed ignorance, have made it.

Please appear. Please. So that we might finally be able to…

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

•••

ARGYLE: Mind if I play some tunes?

MCCLANE: How 'bout some Christmas music?

ARGYLE: That is Christmas music.

This is Christmas music… As “Christmas” as I’m able to provide today.