Memorial Day

Dulce Et Decorum Est

Wilfred Owen (1893 - 1918)

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!-An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

Oh Yes--Happy Mission Accomplished Month!!

This one's for you, Red Scare!!

Air Guitar

Red Scare took me up on my "Rex Saxi, Your Way" blogging challenge; here's my post:

Like all guys who love music but can't really play, I love the air guitar. Even though I can't play, I consider myself pretty musical (I was in the church choir in Catholic grammar school) and I can still carry a tune and identify chord changes when I listen to music.

My parents, unlike the parents of most of my friends, didn't believe in forcing musical lessons on us. While my friend Ivan took piano listens (which he hated), I spent the time outside.

Even so, whenever I listen to music, I try to identify the different parts as I listen.

My favorite air instrument to play is actually the drums--I like Ringo's fills on I Feel Fine and A Day in the Life. EVERY time I hear Our Lips Are Sealed by The Go-Go's, I MUST do the little drum roll between 1:48 and 1:50. Always.

Because I like the backbeat so much, when I DO play air guitar, it's usually the bass. The bass line is my favorite part of a song; I love the way that a good bassist will weave in and out of the drumming. I even taught myself the blues scale 15 years ago on a real bass, but quit when my fingers started getting raw and sore!

For me the coolest songs to play bass to are 1966-era Beatles (the guitar songs on Revolver, Paperback Writer, Rain, etc.), and any song from any era with a booming and heavy bass line.

But I like the bass because bassists are SO cool! Think of how they present themselves to the world--Bill Wyman, John Paul Jones--as calm as calm could be while managing the chaos around them. (OK, OK, Paul McCartney is an exception, but he was a Beatle and had a lot to smile about for goodness sake!). My technique?? I play my air bass (a Hofner, of course), with the first two fingers of my right hand pointing downwards (I'm right-handed), in a moderately funky style while fingering the fretboard with my left hand. I RARELY play chords when I play my air bass.

When I hear a song by The Ramones, it's rhythm guitar, and it's all about the chords and the changes, and strumming as hard and as fast as I can. For me the hardest (and most gratifying) songs to play air guitar to are Led Zeppelin's; Jimmy Page plays both lead and rhythm and he's hard to keep up with. My favorite song to play is Bring It On Home. When I play lead, I pick each note with the thumb and first finger of my right hand, and fret with my left.

As for other kinds of music, I have to admit I can't really play.

Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration. When I was in school, I transcribed Rock Box (by Run-D.M.C. (rest in peace, Jam Master J!), and lip-synched to it in a video I created. There is a scratch solo in the middle of the song which I did, so I guess I know how to be an air rap DJ.

A LOT more to learn...

Rex Saxi, Your Way

A challenge to the four or five loyal readers of this blog (I know you are out there)--I will blog on a topic of your choosing!

The first, non-spam, non-natural enhancement commenter will get a blog entry of his or her choosing within a day of the comment.

First come, first serve!

Who ARE These People???

Tristero on the 28%:

"Five drivers are hurtling your way every ten minutes that are so batshit crazy they actually approve of George W. Bush. Five drivers every ten minutes who can't (or won't) meet the most basic requirements of consensual reality - such as evaluating the performance of the worst president ever, let alone agreeing to drive on the right side of road! Five drivers every ten minutes whose cognitive and moral judgment is so impaired they might create a head-on collision just for kicks."

Yikes!

The Moral Obligation to Lose The War

"The problem with the Iraq War is not that we are losing it and that we need a better strategy. The problem is that we have no moral right to win it. As bad as the colossal mismanagement, greed and corruption are, they are not the true issue. Betrayal of the public trust is the issue. Pre-meditated murder is the issue."

He's right, you know.

The rest.

I Will Be Actively Blogging Soon

...just wanted to let you all know!!

The Neutral

Sonic Youth

He's not a dreamer or a schemer,
running away from me
He's not a singer, an entertainer
with no follow thru
He's not a poet or a mystic
with his cgarette unglued
He just neutral, and he's weary
not even brand new.
It's a perfect sin
close yr eyes and loose the rest
It's a perfect sin
close yr mind and feel the best
Everyone has a headache
imprecise , hard to cure
Got a shake it, what ails you
the lines are a blur
Is it a pain in her heart
dark and gray from the start
You won't seduce me, or attract
just cause yr a stray
It's a perfect sin
close yr eyes and loose the rest
It's a perfect sin
close yr mind and feel the best
Why won't you tell me what's inside yr head
Why won't you show me yr secret bed, secret bed?
he's not a dreamer or a schemer
running away from you
He's not a singer, an entertainer
with no follow thru
He's not a poet or a mystic
with his cigarette unglued
he 's not a cowboy or a loner with nothing to do
he's neutral yeah he's weary,
not even brand
he's neutral yea he's weary
and he's so in love with you.