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Last 15 Articles

14-5-2008 - Was R.E.M Right?

Is it the end of the world as we know it? Michael Stipes was most prescient when he came up with those speedfreak lyrics. As we know it. That's the key part. The planet's population is going mad. The great global conspiracy is well under way. I'm not just talking about the wild, weird weather and typhoons, hurricanes, orgasming volcanoes, and earthquakes, but other things of urgency.

Earthquakes rang a bell and I began hearing the song in my head and I'm sure it begins, "That's great, it starts with an earthquake". Confirmed. The rest of the lyrics had to have been written while on an intense go-fast drug. They're cool, though. I focused on this:

Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn -world serves its own needs, regardless of your own needs. Feed it up a knock, speed, grunt no, strength no. Ladder structure clatter with fear of height, down height. Wire in a fire, represent the seven games in a government for hire and a combat site.

Hurricanes are setting a decade old record. The typhoon in Myanmar, the quake in China, the spewing volcano in Chile. Fires in Florida. It's raining here, strangest May I've experienced in 13 years. Every night and up until about 10 am or so, it rains and the like the in eensy weeny spider, out comes the sun and dries up all the rain. Sun it go down, rain drift into town, sticks around until the dark clouds have dropped their load. The process repeats over and over.

Ok, I've gone on about the weather. The fiction writer in me wants to go on about weather warfare and how none of these are natural events and were done using Tesla's inventions. I'm not going there, not when there's more pressing things occurring and it's happening to our most precious commodity and also becoming the most dangerous. The youth. Maybe we've reached the final stage of evolution and they're adults trapped in kids' bodies. It angers them that their parents and teachers don't understand this and treat them as if they're 5 years old.

I'm not surprised anymore when I read or hear of an 8 year old or an 11 year old getting busted for having a gun at school. I'm not shocked by anything they do. Search Google using "teens arrested" in the news section and find 3,648 entries. I understand where they're coming from, having felt the same when I was their age, but my peers were nothing like me so I tried to feign innocence.

The worst thing I ever did was throw a firecracker under my Algebra teacher as she talked with a parent. The weirdest thing I was ever caught for was pitching pennies in the boys' room in the 8th grade. I've been busted for traffic tickets, but that's it. If I were a kid today I know I'd be one of the wild bunch. I never felt like a kid and the only fear I have is after I shed my skin is I'll come back as a baby. Nofuckingway. If I took an ever-present MySpace ad to heart, I'd think I could come back as a bird.

There's a reason for this. I don't want parents. I don't want anyone telling me what to do. I don't want to sit in my own poop. What if my parents beat and tortured me or did things so horrid I won't write them? Bad parents are the common denominator in all these kids gone bad incidents. Americans better wake up and fast or the next blast they hear will be from their kid who's got Morrison playing -- the killer put on his boots, walked on down the hall, father, I want to kill you -- talk about being blown away. That didn't come out right but it stays. It's part of this transmission.

Transmission? Yeah, something like that. I don't pre-think this stuff. I don't know where it comes from or why it pops into my head and exits via my fast moving fingers rhythmically striking the keys. I feel better when it ends, no matter how bad or good it comes out. I'm ready to face the day with an empty head, ready for a refill I can spill again tomorrow unless something comes along that's worth writing about. That's what I wait for.

I don't have the attention span today to get into anything specific. I have no focus, except this. The times I pause for a drink or refill of coffee, I'm aware my arm hurts. I begin keypunching again, crank music and I forget. There is a method to my madness. Seemingly madness. I'm not as crazy as I come off. I make myself that way for amusement because I need the endorphins.

R.E.M. takes this out:

Team by team reporters baffled, trump, tethered crop. Look at that low plane! Fine then. Uh oh, overflow, population, common group, but it'll do. Save yourself, serve yourself. World serves its own needs, listen to your heart bleed. Tell me with the rapture and the reverent in the right - right. You vitriolic, patriotic, slam, fight, bright light, feeling pretty psyched.

I'm feeling pretty psyched myself right now. I neglected to mention the last part of the song title -- "(and I feel fine)". Finally! I'm as close to fine as I'm going to get and that's fine with me. I wish I could say the same for the rest of the world. Hmm, that's what the world needs -- a rest. You're under a rest. Send me to The Rest of Your Life, the home for the world weary. I only wish to rest in peace. No, I don't mean by dying. Sheesh.

Brenda Stardom
Portugal - 6h19 GMT +1