I don't do this very often, but I simply have to share the brilliance that is Ambling Alp by Yeasayer. I listen primarily to albums rather than individual songs, and rarely do I listen to a song over and over again, but such was the case with this song a week or two ago. As it has still not grown old for me, and is currently sitting at 23 plays in my iTunes (a lot for me in the span of a couple weeks), I would like to share the video with you, which is as entrancing and disturbing as the song itself. Enjoy the crazy.
Note: There's some nudity (nothing overkill) if that sort of thing offends you.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
The Gap in our Education
This is a question I've been unable to formulate since I've been here at Colgate and now it seems suddenly clear to me. With an education like the one I'm getting, at one of the top schools in the nation, with excellent professors and an excellent liberal arts learning environment, why does something still feel missing academically? Why do I still want something more? Certainly not more work, I have quite enough of that thank you very much. No, this flaw in the Colgate system, (and I think, to a greater or lesser extent at different schools, the American college system) is nothing the professors can do anything about. Now comes the part where I make a lot of generalizations which will assuredly not be true in all cases. Please bear with me.
The problem is extracurricular discourse and discussion. From all my reading, both historical and literary, I gather that at various points in the American past, college students passed much of their time in discussion and friendly debate with one another about various issues ranging from philosophy, to music, to religion, to literature, to politics, and so forth. Dissenting opinions were welcomed and even sought out, even among the best of friends. In fact, in some cases the friends who truly were the best of friends were those with the most diverging views, because it facilitated the most interesting discourse and maximized learning and expanded perspectives on both sides. The issues up for debate were, of course, different at various moments in history. Princeton in the 20's, for example, would have fostered significantly more debate on literature and philosophy, whereas the 60's saw a great deal more concern for political issues.
This is not to say these things are nonexistent today. However, a significant number of people I have spoken to not only find the idea of people spending a couple hours debating the existence of God, in a respectful and tolerant manner, "weird" or "unfathomable", they would themselves feel extremely uncomfortable in such a situation. The reasons for this are twofold: for one, people today do not like to have their beliefs challenged in one way or another, and for another, people frequently take any such challenge as a challenge to their character and shut out the other person entirely. What people do not realize is that academic fulfillment and true intellectual growth are most fully realized in these situations. Without true scholastic discussion, we are all merely running around with our hands over our ears and our mouths spouting inaudible nonsense while we cling to familiarity and condemn difference and dissent. Indeed, divergence from a popularly held opinion is the quickest ticket to a social and/or academic leper colony in this environment of intellectual conformity. Try offering a religious perspective in Western Traditions to see what I mean.
The unwillingness to listen to others is one reason the nation has become so polarized, politically and socially. How many times do we hear people say something we disagree with, but choose not to respond, for reason ranging from fear of being attacked or shunned for our opinions, to fear of having the other person mistake our disagreement for an attack on them, to simple fear of debate or tension or "awkwardness." If people listened to each other, and stopped for a moment to consider that everyone has something to say that is worth hearing, perhaps we could get to the real heart of the issues and recognize our common ground and go from there. We could acknowledge that nobody wants anyone excluded from health care and then sit down in respectful discussion to determine how best to attain this goal. We could cease arguing about things that have concrete answers substantiated by facts (by merely opening our eyes and recognizing that a birth certificate is, in fact, proof that one was born in the United States). If we could stop closing our ears and opening our mouths about easy issues like these, we could be less afraid to argue on more complicated and polarizing issues, like abortion and gay marriage and so on. People seem to believe a pro-life person and a pro-choice person cannot sit down and respectfully and rationally discuss the issue without tearing each other apart. Thus, rational discussion is almost nonexistent. The playing field becomes dominated by radicals and extremists on both sides, whose vitriol and verbal sparring (or worse) undermine both sides and cause the breakdown in communication so prevalent today, a breakdown which makes it taboo to discuss almost anything relevant. Thus, we talk about sports and our neighbors and TV and pretend to feel good about our unfulfilling consensus.
This is the world we will be entering in a few years. And how are we being trained to combat this? We aren't. We think ourselves intelligent and cultured and somehow better than everybody else, but what have we done, really? We go to class, we cram for an exam, we get good grades, and we all forget most of what we learned by the next semester. We enter the real world in some capacity and begin to live just like everyone else, earning money so we can buy cars and iPhones and jewelry. What have we learned that we can carry with us into the world? College is not a time to absorb all the minute details and facts that we can possibly cram into our minds and hope that they all stay there through our lives. College is about learning how to think, how to interact, how to challenge and dissent, how to respond to challenges and different points of view, how to be true intellectuals and true human beings. Yet here at this training ground for the rest of our lives, what are we really learning? How many people will really take these lessons out of college? When I walk through Frank Dining Hall or sit on the Cruiser, I do not hear people discussing Plato or health care or the existence of God or the merits of modern music. No, mostly I hear sordid tales of weekend misadventures and cliquish social intrigue. If this is what we're really learning to take out into the real world, is it any wonder that it is in the state that it is? Can one be an alcoholic at school and immediately become a sober family man thereafter. Can one make poor choices week in and week out and hope to be responsible in business, medicine, academia, or whatever one chooses to do after college?
The fact is few can do these things. We can sit in a classroom and take notes every day and write our formulaic papers, and we will certainly learn. We may even pass with flying colors if we keep our heads about us. But even among the comparatively responsible and studious, academic discussion is less than prevalent. This needs to change if we are to go forth into society to truly make a difference in it. America does not need more businesspeople and politicians, teachers and artists. It needs thinkers and feelers, lovers and dreamers. It needs rational, respectful, conscientious individuals with some sense of integrity. And most of all, it needs dissent. America cannot function without healthy dissent. Dissent is not treason, argument is not a personal attack, rebuttal is not reprisal. When we can look someone whose views differ starkly from our own in the eye and say "I respect you as an individual and I will listen to what you have to say with the full knowledge that you will also listen to me, and I will attempt to find any common group that we can with you", then we can consider ourselves educated and cultured. Then, the college system will have done its job. Then, America can become truly great once again.
The problem is extracurricular discourse and discussion. From all my reading, both historical and literary, I gather that at various points in the American past, college students passed much of their time in discussion and friendly debate with one another about various issues ranging from philosophy, to music, to religion, to literature, to politics, and so forth. Dissenting opinions were welcomed and even sought out, even among the best of friends. In fact, in some cases the friends who truly were the best of friends were those with the most diverging views, because it facilitated the most interesting discourse and maximized learning and expanded perspectives on both sides. The issues up for debate were, of course, different at various moments in history. Princeton in the 20's, for example, would have fostered significantly more debate on literature and philosophy, whereas the 60's saw a great deal more concern for political issues.
This is not to say these things are nonexistent today. However, a significant number of people I have spoken to not only find the idea of people spending a couple hours debating the existence of God, in a respectful and tolerant manner, "weird" or "unfathomable", they would themselves feel extremely uncomfortable in such a situation. The reasons for this are twofold: for one, people today do not like to have their beliefs challenged in one way or another, and for another, people frequently take any such challenge as a challenge to their character and shut out the other person entirely. What people do not realize is that academic fulfillment and true intellectual growth are most fully realized in these situations. Without true scholastic discussion, we are all merely running around with our hands over our ears and our mouths spouting inaudible nonsense while we cling to familiarity and condemn difference and dissent. Indeed, divergence from a popularly held opinion is the quickest ticket to a social and/or academic leper colony in this environment of intellectual conformity. Try offering a religious perspective in Western Traditions to see what I mean.
The unwillingness to listen to others is one reason the nation has become so polarized, politically and socially. How many times do we hear people say something we disagree with, but choose not to respond, for reason ranging from fear of being attacked or shunned for our opinions, to fear of having the other person mistake our disagreement for an attack on them, to simple fear of debate or tension or "awkwardness." If people listened to each other, and stopped for a moment to consider that everyone has something to say that is worth hearing, perhaps we could get to the real heart of the issues and recognize our common ground and go from there. We could acknowledge that nobody wants anyone excluded from health care and then sit down in respectful discussion to determine how best to attain this goal. We could cease arguing about things that have concrete answers substantiated by facts (by merely opening our eyes and recognizing that a birth certificate is, in fact, proof that one was born in the United States). If we could stop closing our ears and opening our mouths about easy issues like these, we could be less afraid to argue on more complicated and polarizing issues, like abortion and gay marriage and so on. People seem to believe a pro-life person and a pro-choice person cannot sit down and respectfully and rationally discuss the issue without tearing each other apart. Thus, rational discussion is almost nonexistent. The playing field becomes dominated by radicals and extremists on both sides, whose vitriol and verbal sparring (or worse) undermine both sides and cause the breakdown in communication so prevalent today, a breakdown which makes it taboo to discuss almost anything relevant. Thus, we talk about sports and our neighbors and TV and pretend to feel good about our unfulfilling consensus.
This is the world we will be entering in a few years. And how are we being trained to combat this? We aren't. We think ourselves intelligent and cultured and somehow better than everybody else, but what have we done, really? We go to class, we cram for an exam, we get good grades, and we all forget most of what we learned by the next semester. We enter the real world in some capacity and begin to live just like everyone else, earning money so we can buy cars and iPhones and jewelry. What have we learned that we can carry with us into the world? College is not a time to absorb all the minute details and facts that we can possibly cram into our minds and hope that they all stay there through our lives. College is about learning how to think, how to interact, how to challenge and dissent, how to respond to challenges and different points of view, how to be true intellectuals and true human beings. Yet here at this training ground for the rest of our lives, what are we really learning? How many people will really take these lessons out of college? When I walk through Frank Dining Hall or sit on the Cruiser, I do not hear people discussing Plato or health care or the existence of God or the merits of modern music. No, mostly I hear sordid tales of weekend misadventures and cliquish social intrigue. If this is what we're really learning to take out into the real world, is it any wonder that it is in the state that it is? Can one be an alcoholic at school and immediately become a sober family man thereafter. Can one make poor choices week in and week out and hope to be responsible in business, medicine, academia, or whatever one chooses to do after college?
The fact is few can do these things. We can sit in a classroom and take notes every day and write our formulaic papers, and we will certainly learn. We may even pass with flying colors if we keep our heads about us. But even among the comparatively responsible and studious, academic discussion is less than prevalent. This needs to change if we are to go forth into society to truly make a difference in it. America does not need more businesspeople and politicians, teachers and artists. It needs thinkers and feelers, lovers and dreamers. It needs rational, respectful, conscientious individuals with some sense of integrity. And most of all, it needs dissent. America cannot function without healthy dissent. Dissent is not treason, argument is not a personal attack, rebuttal is not reprisal. When we can look someone whose views differ starkly from our own in the eye and say "I respect you as an individual and I will listen to what you have to say with the full knowledge that you will also listen to me, and I will attempt to find any common group that we can with you", then we can consider ourselves educated and cultured. Then, the college system will have done its job. Then, America can become truly great once again.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Gargoyles
I promise this blog isn't going to be entirely poems. It just happens that that's what I've had time to write.
Gargoyles
Introspective stone figures grace a sea of light
Spectral demons of time immemorial
Raking their thoughts over gulfs of the soul
Regurgitating the past, and emptiness, and the paranoia of fools
Overcome by the moonlight
The vitriol of a thousand vilified men crashing like waves
Upon those absent, and those too near
The spirit is aching, the will is failing
In the lapse of the madness, a profusion of ink
Blotting out the fecundity of experiences
A war fought only in peace
A frozen stalemate in the midst of thoughts
An icy wind brings the mist of Lethe
Retreating once more to impassive brooding silence
Lurking in evanescent realms of nonbeing
To again crash on the crags of despair
And elicit a cascade of fears and nothings
They, cruel gargoyles of the lonely.
Gargoyles
Introspective stone figures grace a sea of light
Spectral demons of time immemorial
Raking their thoughts over gulfs of the soul
Regurgitating the past, and emptiness, and the paranoia of fools
Overcome by the moonlight
The vitriol of a thousand vilified men crashing like waves
Upon those absent, and those too near
The spirit is aching, the will is failing
In the lapse of the madness, a profusion of ink
Blotting out the fecundity of experiences
A war fought only in peace
A frozen stalemate in the midst of thoughts
An icy wind brings the mist of Lethe
Retreating once more to impassive brooding silence
Lurking in evanescent realms of nonbeing
To again crash on the crags of despair
And elicit a cascade of fears and nothings
They, cruel gargoyles of the lonely.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
A new beginning
I mean it this time. I really do. I'm going to start updating this again. What?! you say? Mike is actually going to update a blog? Yes. Yes I am. Lately I've been musing a lot and giving silent mental dialectics to nobody at all on a host of different subjects which have crossed my mind. Every time I think to myself, "I could write a blog post about that." Then I think, "I don't have time and nobody will read it anyway." Well I've got news for me. It's a vicious cycle, and if I don't post anything worth reading, nobody will read it (thank you Captain Obvious). So I will try to bring this closer to the original point of the blog, a combination between my random thoughts and observations, and my creative output. Which brings me to the second reason I'm resuscitating my blog: I just produced my first creative work since January.
I know that so far, this blog is primarily dominated by my writing (which was supposed to be the purpose of the other blog), but it should begin to balance out soon. Enough rambling though, I'll get to the poem now.
Last night I was at the Barge, and as is my custom whenever in an establishment of coffee production, I purchased a (large) latte. Fast forward 3 hours. It's 2 AM and I'm still awake. Hell, the thought of sleep has not even begun to cross my mind yet. I ran out of mindless distractions earlier in the day, so what could I possibly do to delay getting in bed and tossing and turning from caffeine? Then a flash of inspiration! I was listening to Jimmy Eat World and a bunch of other music with good lyrics whose poetry I had appreciated back in the day (which was a Wednesday) and it made me long for those days once more. If I'm serious in my ambition to write, I reasoned, then it follows that il faut que j'écrit! Preparing myself, I opened up a blank Textedit document and positioned my fingers over the keys. Nothing. Inspiration=zero. Disappointed, I nearly gave up. Then I decided to just write and see where it took me, whether I could develop any themes, any meaning from the detritus of my mind. I started slowly at first, and then it just started to flow. When at last it felt ended, I looked back on it. Though I had no plan, no special meaning in mind when I wrote it, it just seemed to work somehow. The meaning was there. But now I leave it to the reader to interpret it (and even to decide if it's any good, it truly may not be, but as this was not painstakingly crafted, I will not be offended). It has no title as of yet, and it may not even be truly finished. But here is the first draft of my new poem.
Fifteen tons of bricks from the tower
Which is the one upon which to rest my head?
I saw two dead, but all was grass.
Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of love and war?
Have you seen the dead bird on the hill?
It stirred briefly, I think its wings were burned
I felt a kinship with it, his eyes were mine
I too have flown
I too am singed
Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of birds and fire? Of salt and light?
Have you seen the weight of the world?
It lies sullen and scorned
I think I recognize it
Today the ether was poured out
I knew not what ecstasy was before
This blissful immersion, sublime effervescence
I too have been poured out
Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of the spheres? Has the dome been polished?
Whence comes this figure all in grey? His mantle is frayed
He is bent and careworn
He might have been me one day. His eyes were mine.
I do not believe he noticed.
Tomorrow there will be ephemeral spires
Reaching ever higher, their spirits ever lower
Bricks all around, bricks in my head, bricks on the ground
Twenty thousand tons
How does one weigh a life? Show me the balance
Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of murder and rape? Of rings and the end?
He has one eye. It is not mine.
Summon the lanterns. Extinguish the dark.
I think I recognize it.
I know that so far, this blog is primarily dominated by my writing (which was supposed to be the purpose of the other blog), but it should begin to balance out soon. Enough rambling though, I'll get to the poem now.
Last night I was at the Barge, and as is my custom whenever in an establishment of coffee production, I purchased a (large) latte. Fast forward 3 hours. It's 2 AM and I'm still awake. Hell, the thought of sleep has not even begun to cross my mind yet. I ran out of mindless distractions earlier in the day, so what could I possibly do to delay getting in bed and tossing and turning from caffeine? Then a flash of inspiration! I was listening to Jimmy Eat World and a bunch of other music with good lyrics whose poetry I had appreciated back in the day (which was a Wednesday) and it made me long for those days once more. If I'm serious in my ambition to write, I reasoned, then it follows that il faut que j'écrit! Preparing myself, I opened up a blank Textedit document and positioned my fingers over the keys. Nothing. Inspiration=zero. Disappointed, I nearly gave up. Then I decided to just write and see where it took me, whether I could develop any themes, any meaning from the detritus of my mind. I started slowly at first, and then it just started to flow. When at last it felt ended, I looked back on it. Though I had no plan, no special meaning in mind when I wrote it, it just seemed to work somehow. The meaning was there. But now I leave it to the reader to interpret it (and even to decide if it's any good, it truly may not be, but as this was not painstakingly crafted, I will not be offended). It has no title as of yet, and it may not even be truly finished. But here is the first draft of my new poem.
Fifteen tons of bricks from the tower
Which is the one upon which to rest my head?
I saw two dead, but all was grass.
Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of love and war?
Have you seen the dead bird on the hill?
It stirred briefly, I think its wings were burned
I felt a kinship with it, his eyes were mine
I too have flown
I too am singed
Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of birds and fire? Of salt and light?
Have you seen the weight of the world?
It lies sullen and scorned
I think I recognize it
Today the ether was poured out
I knew not what ecstasy was before
This blissful immersion, sublime effervescence
I too have been poured out
Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of the spheres? Has the dome been polished?
Whence comes this figure all in grey? His mantle is frayed
He is bent and careworn
He might have been me one day. His eyes were mine.
I do not believe he noticed.
Tomorrow there will be ephemeral spires
Reaching ever higher, their spirits ever lower
Bricks all around, bricks in my head, bricks on the ground
Twenty thousand tons
How does one weigh a life? Show me the balance
Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of murder and rape? Of rings and the end?
He has one eye. It is not mine.
Summon the lanterns. Extinguish the dark.
I think I recognize it.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Dreamwriter
Today I realized that despite my intentions at the beginning of the summer to keep writing (since I now have time), I haven't written anything since summer began! The last poem I wrote was in May, and my primary goal to continue writing the book I started for my graduation project, called Dreamwriter, has been forgotten about.
I started writing it after several scrapped attempts at other storylines sometime in October of last year. The idea is a combination of two pieces of inspiration, one from a couple years ago when running through potential story ideas in my head, and one while I was listening to the Air cd Talkie Walkie and let my imagination wander through a series of perfect images during the song "Universal Traveler." These images led to a quickly typed prologue which I decided I would build into my story. The only problem is that I wasn't really sure how to follow up the prologue, so I simply wrote nothing for quite a while. It wasn't until February that I actually began to write again. Sporadic bursts of writing culminated in a 25 page product to show to the judges of my project in early May. Still, just because I finished the project didn't mean I didn't want to finish the story. I will refrain from giving story details here because I'm still not sure if I like Part 1, which could change the outcome of the rest of the story.
I started writing it after several scrapped attempts at other storylines sometime in October of last year. The idea is a combination of two pieces of inspiration, one from a couple years ago when running through potential story ideas in my head, and one while I was listening to the Air cd Talkie Walkie and let my imagination wander through a series of perfect images during the song "Universal Traveler." These images led to a quickly typed prologue which I decided I would build into my story. The only problem is that I wasn't really sure how to follow up the prologue, so I simply wrote nothing for quite a while. It wasn't until February that I actually began to write again. Sporadic bursts of writing culminated in a 25 page product to show to the judges of my project in early May. Still, just because I finished the project didn't mean I didn't want to finish the story. I will refrain from giving story details here because I'm still not sure if I like Part 1, which could change the outcome of the rest of the story.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Blood and Honey
This poem I wrote and submitted for the April/May anonymous poetry contest at Café Poetica and as the contest just ended, I can now post it here. This one won the contest and my other one written at the same time came in second, but I'll post that one later. Blood and Honey won with a perfect score, as every person who rated it gave it a 5/5. So obviously I'm pretty proud of this one. It's a sonnet, but I combined both the Italian and English forms.
Blood and Honey
The pages strewn across the desk of time
Shall quake before the writer's gilded pen
The likes of which no prior age divined
And nevermore will grace this world again
In infancy, yet born to wield the words
To shatter cities, to turn the tide of wars
To wash the heart with melodies unheard
From poet's pen shall blood and honey pour.
So fragile human hearts and minds do prove
And wind-swept words erased before they're writ
By apathy, incumbent on the throne.
These scattered skeletons shall never move
No blood nor honey shall his pen emit
And soft and gentle melody unknown.
Blood and Honey
The pages strewn across the desk of time
Shall quake before the writer's gilded pen
The likes of which no prior age divined
And nevermore will grace this world again
In infancy, yet born to wield the words
To shatter cities, to turn the tide of wars
To wash the heart with melodies unheard
From poet's pen shall blood and honey pour.
So fragile human hearts and minds do prove
And wind-swept words erased before they're writ
By apathy, incumbent on the throne.
These scattered skeletons shall never move
No blood nor honey shall his pen emit
And soft and gentle melody unknown.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Sunrise
I wrote this poem a little while ago when I stayed over with my friend Jon and we stayed up the entire night watching movies and drinking Mountain Dew. We wanted to watch the sunrise, so when it came, we got our coats and went out in the near-freezing morning (possibly below) and sat on his swings and waited. It was cold but completely worth it. So many thoughts and emotions went through me and they seemed contradictory. So when I wrote this poem the next day I don't really feel like I captured it accurately but I never edited and now I cannot do so. But I think it stands alone fairly well. The poem is obviously about more than just the sunrise itself.
"Sunrise"
Sleeplessly awaiting the dawn
I blink away the temptation
And emerge into the world of in-between
No longer dark, yet cold and dim
Breathlessly anticipating the portrait
Of man's destiny, written in the morning sky.
I do not speak a word, but swing gently
Back and forth to the sound of the sunrise
Complete serenity, restless uncertainty
And the in-between.
Stuck in a world between light and dark
No glorious transition
But a time of neither
And as the sun breaks the horizon
I cannot help but stare.
"Sunrise"
Sleeplessly awaiting the dawn
I blink away the temptation
And emerge into the world of in-between
No longer dark, yet cold and dim
Breathlessly anticipating the portrait
Of man's destiny, written in the morning sky.
I do not speak a word, but swing gently
Back and forth to the sound of the sunrise
Complete serenity, restless uncertainty
And the in-between.
Stuck in a world between light and dark
No glorious transition
But a time of neither
And as the sun breaks the horizon
I cannot help but stare.
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