I just bought Conor Oberst's, of Bright Eyes, new self titled and have probably listened to it twenty times thru already. It's beautiful.
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My life has changed drastically in the last few weeks, even days. I'm not sure how it all will work out. Can one ever really know that?
No one knows anything. I just feel like there's so much left to chance.
In the Death Cab for Cutie song "Bixby Canyon Bridge" Ben Gibbard writes about his experience of chasing the end of Jack Kerouac's rope trying to figure out life. There's a line that says:
I want to know my fate,
If I keep up this way.
By the end of the song he's realized that you can't know your fate - not even Kerouac did.
I've identified with that song specifically because I've been in that spot for awhile. I'm at a point where I'm trying to figure out what to do, what I want. Really, we're always figuring out life; never knowing what's just around the bend. And the beautifully sad part about it all is that the world goes on no matter what happens to us. We're only here for just a blip of time and think of how long the universe has gotten along without you? I think it's only human to want to make a lasting mark. I don't want to be just a blip. I'm starting to believe that once someone stops trying to make a mark and begins to simply live life for others rather than themselves that they have grown up; once they come to terms with the fact that they'll be dust in the ground.
And like the moon doesn't mind if the sun doesn't shine,
The sea doesn't care if you're lonesome tonight...
Many messengers and rebels have come and gone without a trace,
And many more will come tomorrow and many more will be erased.
Man O' War - Eric Bachmann
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I've thought of death a lot lately. Not as a morbid fascination but as a part of life. This past weekend I lost someone that I respected immensely. I wish that I had known him better - isn't that always a feeling after someone dies?
The other day I had a thought, while thinking of a line from a Beulah song that says:
I sit at this table and I stare at these hands.
Everyday they grow to look a little more like my dad's.
And I trace these veins that run up and down my arms.
From where I'm sitting, I trace sixty more years.
The thought was the only man I have in my life now is my father - and I won't have him forever. And once he is gone, who will be there to teach me? There are so many things that I still have to learn. I've missed so many opportunities to learn from people that are now gone. I don't want to miss those times with my father. I want to know his dreams and opinions, what makes him tick. What kind of person would I be to not know my family - the people who came before me and care for me? And just as much, I want him to know who I really am. In the last couple years I have gotten to know him more. I've read his writings, seen his pictures, and held the treasures from all over his years. I am grateful for that - for the chance to know my father.
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These are some lyrics I've written lately that have been in my head and heart:
Here comes the rain, I can feel it in my legs
With each pop washing cartilage away.
Feeling older with each drop upon my shoulder,
Not sure how much more I can take.
I don't know how much time I've got,
But I know that it can't be a lot.
I won't spend it with my head in my hands,
Wondering what could have been.
All I can hope is to wake in the morning,
And watch the sun rise again,
And to stare into your eyes,
And see a new day begin.
I could live with "What if"'s and "If I could I would of"'s,
But that won't get me very far.
If I spend my time looking at the past and not the road ahead,
Well, oh my darling, I'm sure to fall.
