Monday, April 25, 2005
East of the sun, west of the moon
My blog entries are not flesh and blood anymore. The guts are gone; I'm more tame and peaceful these days. Or plain cowardly. Now it seems like my blog is my commentary on music or what's going on in the world. But it's not really an original commentary. It's rehash from news channel or radio personalities. I have a rough idea of who's reading my blog and who's there with a critical eye. I can't cross that line b/c I have to be responsible for what I say. Even some take it personally, or literally, or have no sense of humor at all.
Jeffrey Conlin is my new hero. Truly! His new blog entry is all flesh and blood. It's all that I've been evading in the past few months. That's how I first started my blog. Why should I even care about offending anybody? Who cares if the Pope actually reads it (the new Pope, I mean)? So this blog entry goes out to Jeff Conlin, the new Buster Keaton. The guy who plays the 'i can't live without you, but I can't be with you, you're too good to me, blah blah blah' role oh so well.
Been there, done that. Not a good feeling. But what can I say? The nice guy role is too tough to play. You get sick of repeating yourself. Help you with furniture, picking you up from the airport. We're all selfish animals. We do things for a purpose. Anything you do you want someone to be impressed or return the favor. Usually you do it for the opposite sex. Or someone you care about, hoping that they'll care about you back. The world doesn't work this way, my friend. People use you, take advantage of you. The nice guy doesn't get respect. He might, in 30 or 40 years when someone realizes why didn't I go for it back then? It's too late, baby, it's too late. Carole King says something meaningful for once.
The Chet Baker mood attacks awfully early this year. Could be the weird weather. Could be the unwelcomed return of moodswings (like Star Wars III). I sleep so well these days. Partly because I have no regrets. But mostly because I am tired.
Life goes on. An occasional cup of Latte at Starbucks could solve some problems. Take a long walk, breathe some fresh air. There's more love in the world that we realize. But it's there. You just need to go find it.
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Jeffrey Conlin is my new hero. Truly! His new blog entry is all flesh and blood. It's all that I've been evading in the past few months. That's how I first started my blog. Why should I even care about offending anybody? Who cares if the Pope actually reads it (the new Pope, I mean)? So this blog entry goes out to Jeff Conlin, the new Buster Keaton. The guy who plays the 'i can't live without you, but I can't be with you, you're too good to me, blah blah blah' role oh so well.
Been there, done that. Not a good feeling. But what can I say? The nice guy role is too tough to play. You get sick of repeating yourself. Help you with furniture, picking you up from the airport. We're all selfish animals. We do things for a purpose. Anything you do you want someone to be impressed or return the favor. Usually you do it for the opposite sex. Or someone you care about, hoping that they'll care about you back. The world doesn't work this way, my friend. People use you, take advantage of you. The nice guy doesn't get respect. He might, in 30 or 40 years when someone realizes why didn't I go for it back then? It's too late, baby, it's too late. Carole King says something meaningful for once.
The Chet Baker mood attacks awfully early this year. Could be the weird weather. Could be the unwelcomed return of moodswings (like Star Wars III). I sleep so well these days. Partly because I have no regrets. But mostly because I am tired.
Life goes on. An occasional cup of Latte at Starbucks could solve some problems. Take a long walk, breathe some fresh air. There's more love in the world that we realize. But it's there. You just need to go find it.
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