Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Manic-Depressive Self-Perception

Shirt off, deep in the mirror
chest protrusion, washboard abs
chiseled face, tanned Adonis
Ain’t nobody looks as good as me

Pimple-poppin’ scavenge
face all ravaged
body like a chicken
with Harry Potter glasses
ain’t no geek like a geek like me

Ideas flow
a river of genius
eloquent articulation
a gigantic penis
When Carlin needs a joke
he calls on me

My brain is dead
as I blunder through stutters
can’t find a joke
I’m a cigarette butt
ain't no loser like a loser like me

Look at all these losers
knots all tied
round their little minds
talkin’ all crap
obvious blue skies
oh how I wish
I had something to say
more interesting
than what I lost today
ain’t no bore like a wimp like me

Look at me now
top of the mountain
do you know what courage
it took to go here?

Let them have their safe little jobs
Steady cheques and benefits
I left all that behind me years ago
Couldn’t cut that 9 to 5
Too brain-dead to keep my body alive
Too courageous to be safe
Too ridiculous to be sane

All the girls here love me
The women too
The boys are mostly jealous
The men don’t have a clue
Me I’m not horny
or I’d surely score
That chip-dip looks good
and I’m no conversation whore
I’d rather be alone
in lonely creation
and loner cool
When you’re cool like me
alone is the rule

Who else is good enough to keep me company?
Who would wanna spend time with a loser like me?
with the tunes running through my head
Nobody knows the tunes like me
Each word triggers a new melody
Ain’t nobody can rhyme like me:
outrageous contagious perfection erection
Even the drummer don’t love music like me
and I’m too busy singing inside for conversation
Why can’t I get these tunes outta my head?
ain't no obsession like obsession like mine
dashin’ fast after breakfast to write my lines

Perfectionists obsess over inane detail
My edges rough like toughs from the Bronx
Poetry in the gutter
Artistry in jagged lines
Who needs right angles anyway?
Right angles are for squares
I never built a house
or wrote a perfect book
I don’t have the patience
for that measured editing
no discipline

I tell the truth
when I exaggerate
to make the points
of my own bias
run-on sentences
lists are my style

I look down on you all
I look down on me
Nobody else changes their mind like me
ain't nobody steady as a rock like me

The future’s mine
Infinite possibility
If I only had the strength
to make a home just for me
but oh I’m too generous
what generosity!
I share myself with the world
Repressed agility
The world is my clamshell
You can’t predict me
If I could just live in the present
I might stay happy

I got the power
Ain’t no power like power like mine
I humble the sun
Humble the redwood I never seen
Humble my admirers
Oh but I feel so weak
Too many temptations
Inability with creations
So much I don’t know
but I know all you have to tell me
My intuition is that good
Ain’t no instincts like instincts like mine
Don’t know how I’m wrong all the time

Ain’t nobody self-conscious like me
but sometimes I feel fine
Forgetting myself sets me free
ain't nobody free like me
Ain’t nobody free like me

Labels: , , ,

Are you looking in through my ears?

I often feel like this.

Nice rhythm!
I happen to be a great singer. Most of my songs are about space travel though. Some of my best include:

Wish upon a Starfleet
Federate (good times)
Fly me to the moon (on impulse power)
Is there a prize for making your web clicker hit 777?
Good stuff. I don't mean to take sides on the whole matter but I'm with UTMG. Yes, yes. Many influences to be spotted, all leading to the same conclusion: me likes.

BTW, know thee of The Arcade Fire? I believe they are of Canadian extraction.* If not, seek out their music at once. Boredom shall be little more than a faint pin-prick in the memory of time.

* An assumption more than anything else.
They are, Andy.

Their music is excellent.
UTMG: Thanks for compliments! I wrote this back in 01 when I started wondering which version of me was real. I've since balanced out a little, learned to be confident yet humble. But I still like the poem because it seems to be an almost universal feeling.

With the notable exception of Captain Berk, who has no reason for self-doubt or humility. My king.

Anon: I was quite excited when I hit 666. Now I've got a bucket under my computer to catch all the change when triple 7s roll around. But I think I'm far from winning any traffic awards just yet.

Andy, my main lunatic, Arcade Fire is all the rage here. They're from Montreal and they do indeed chase boredom like water chases cheap scotch. But I'm the last kid on the Canadian block to buy their debut best-seller, mainly because I hear it everywhere I go anyway. If you like AF I recommend Modest Mouse from the good ole u s of a.
humble the sun, that's so gay.
Shame about that. The only place I hear them is through my computer/CD player/car stereo because they're the only places that play them.

I know what you mean, though, about music becoming tiresome because it's heard everywhere.

They've been the source of my musical salvation over the course of the past two months.

Lately my musical jesus has been a little disc called 'Eccentric Soul: The Deep City Label'. It's a bunch of B and C-side cuts from the heyday of American soul music. Shazaam!
Morri, so gay?
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