HARVEST

I wrote this a couple months back when I had a bellyful of booze and a deep reverence for the genius of my favorite Canadian troubadour: Neil Young. I tipped my bottle, opened a fresh one, pressed play on the player, and set to it. It's like Philip Seymour Hoffman as Lester Bangs said in that movie, "just to fucking write." My tippy tappy typist fingers couldn't keep up with my racing mind but nonetheless, the following resulted.

“See the lonely boy out on the weekend.” A young man who “can’t relate to joy,” can’t express his feelings, “can’t begin to say.” Only one man could say it so eloquently, so curtly. That man is Neil Young. Accented with plaintive steel guitar and his ever present acoustic, strummed so subtly, Mr. young creates a sense of longing in his listener. Punctuated by harmonica solos, ‘out on the weekend’ remains a country-folk staple and a reminder to the youth that their dream may not always lay in wait around the corner.

“I was almost there at the top of the stairs.” Examine this line. What does it mean? The singer instructs us to “dream up, dream up with the promise of a man.” What, pray tell, are we to dream? A more prosperous future? Contentment? Peace and wellbeing, perhaps? Either way, one can’t help but tap their foot to this simple rhythm. Though “I see you give more than I can take, I only harvest some.” Yet again, more questions than answers as Neil’s song leads us to further analyze the lyrics we’ve just heard as the next verse presents itself. The feeling of loss and helplessness are further hindered by the driving beat, devoid of busy and hard-to-follow percussion and instead complemented by simple, cro-magnon beats that force the listener to give in to his inner caveman. Shun the cymbals, damn the hi-hat, and pay heed to the tribal thumping.

The old man, presented a view of his past through the eyes of a young man, is likely overwhelmed by the change in times. Such is the case of this banjo-permeated treasure from Mr. Young. We’re reminded that everybody needs somebody to love, old or young; love conquers all. The quest for companionship rules. Neil’s song reminds us that an old man’s death is never a tragedy.

A heavily orchestrated song fades out with the plucking of a harp and leads us to ‘Alabama,’ an electric guitar-driven number that calls to mind such forgotten institutions like confederacy and slavery. Bad mojo.

The applause gives way to a lone guitar, backed by a piano, a bass, and a set of drums. The guitar part itself is subdued, seemingly restrained from its full glory and withheld from its utmost capability. Following the first verse, which speaks of hard, agricultural labor and the struggle to survive, the instruments begin feeding off each other before climaxing in subdued glee. It’s as if a tired farmhand, weak from his toil in the fields, is letting loose his inhibitions, however weary he may be. Though the piano is the foundation of the song, the heavy-hand-picked electric guitar fuels the fire, cultivating the song’s crop and helping to reap what Neil Young has sown. This song made me cry once.

"my my," they sigh

So it seems that the number of requests for concealed gun permits has skyrocketed since the Virginia Tech shooting. Does this really make sense? One potential concealed gun owner defended his decision to carry a hidden firearm: 'I would've liked to see what would've happened if there were more guns in that school building.' I paraphrased that, but the gist remains unchanged. This guy, and many others, are saying that more people need guns in order to stop gun violence. That means your coworker or someone could be carrying a gun for your protection. Citizen cops--vigilante justice almost. It scares me more to think that people in a crowded public space could be carrying weapons and would be ready and willing to unload their clips in this crowded public space the minute they detect a real or imagined threat. On the flipside, more lives could be saved. But that's not necessarily what would happen. It just seems like a silly rationale; it makes no sense to me that more guns would do anything to help curb gun violence. The real solution, if there even is one, lies deeper than that. Unfortunately, I don't have the answer. I didn't invent the rainy day, I just own the best umbrella.

we all belong

Check it: there is a dude I work with who looks like Kip Dynamite and acts like Dwight Shrute. He is ripe for to make fun. I could tell stories for hours, nay days, about this dude and his quirks but something just happened that seriously made my day. Ok, so I'm blogging at work but I'd probably forget this if I didn't get it down now.

He's here in my office zone, talking about God-knows-what, when he offers this bit of advice: "Like Yoda said, 'there is no try, only do.'" I repeat the quote in the crappiest Yoda voice I can muster in the hope that it will incite him to do the same and thereby provide me with more fodder for future chuckles. By the way, recounting these incidents, both in my head and for others in the office, is a major source of amusement. Ok, so he comes back with his Yoda voice and it's seriously spot-on. His dedication to the delivery was hilarious. I'm stifling a smile as I tell him how good his impression was. Now he's beaming and clearly proud of himself; it's as if I just gave him the greatest compliment ever, the highest praise and the recognition he so desperately craved and, moreover, deserved after years of honing his craft. He thanked me graciously and told me that I too could gain this exceptional talent through "practice, practice, practice."

Wow, I just read that back to myself and it sounds like I'm really making fun of him. He's not a bad dude, just kind of quirky. Plus, he never fails to make me laugh [at his expense, though].

LISTEN TO THE LIBERTINES' WHAT A WASTER. HELL, LISTEN TO THE WHOLE DAMN ALBUM.

puertas a mi derecha

Some heavy heavy shit these days. Aside from the sullen outcast opening fire on his fellow students at Virginia Tech, we've got new anti-discrimination legislation working its way through the Oregon House on its way to the Senate. In other news, a veteran NBA referee was suspended indefinitely for singling out a player and tossing him from the game. But I could care less about that.

Sometimes I think about the future--my future. I wanna know what is to be. To see what life's cut out for me. I waiting for my fate, cause I know I've done wrong. I wanna know just what's in store for me.

PUT ANOTHER LOG ON THE FIRE FOR ME

you can't grow peaches on a cherry tree

FEMA just wasted $4 million in food. It went bad. So not only did the food spoil, but so did their hope of redemption. Dudes are slipping.

Hang up the Chick Habit

These two guys just got in trouble for selling stolen merchandise. They were employees of the school district selling school-owned televisions, camcorders and DVD players on ebay. The jig was up when the unwitting buyers reported to ebay that their newly-purchased items were labeled "property of West Linn school district." Oh man, those dudes were dummies.

LISTEN TO "THE LOVE YOU SAVE (MAY BE YOUR OWN)"