May 29th, 2006

On Fire

The Man Who Sold the World

Those of you that are bi...lingual that is, should try to take one of your favorite songs and translate it.  Good times.  

Let me explain, my mom likes Nirvana, go figure.  Anyway, two of her favorite songs are the covers of "The Man Who Sold the World" and "Jesus Doesn't Want Me for a Sunbeam".  So I figured I'd try an online translator, but that did it half ass, I basically ended up doing it myself.  That was hard enough, but then to try to "explain" what the song is about.  It's subjective you know, personally I usually think it's him and Jesus/God.  She thought that it could be that, or him looking back on his life.  That's also a common interpretation, either way, I ended up getting the Bowie version and the cover by that chick that was on the INXS show.  Whoever sings it, it is still a hell of a song.

The Man Who Sold the World

We passed upon the stairs,
We spoke of was and when
Although I wasnt there
He said I was his friend
Which came as a surprise
I spoke into his eyes -- I thought you died alone
A long long time ago

Oh no, not me,
We never lost control,
Youre face to face,
With the man who sold the world

I laughed and shook his hand,
I made my way back home,
I searched for form and land,
Years and years I roamed,
I gazed a gazely stare,
We walked a million hills -- I must have died alone,
A long long time ago.

Who knows, not me,
I never lost control,
Youre face, to face,
With the man who sold the world.

That's about it, there's drama 'round here as usual, I'll get into that later.  At least it's keeping my mind off whatsherface, oops, guess I just f'ed that up, hahahaha.  Eh, it's all good in the neighborhood, I'll just throw some gangster rap on that always cheers me up.

~G. Money
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Who knew?

Possible Paths Possible Paths
I wrote/drew this in one of my journals back in 1998

I'm just working on one of my many projects, pfft.  Anyway, waaaaay before I was so internet savy, I kept a journal.  Like a real life journal, I used it with pens and everything!  I still have one but I haven't written in it for years since LJ is so much more convenient.  Anyway, I'm working on transferring everything I have written unto my LJ, I probably should be doing the opposite, making a hard copy of my LJ because God knows what'll happen if Livejournal, Six Apart or whoever, ever goes out of business or is hit with an EMP or something.  But I digress, I just thought this was kind of funny, there's nothing on there about education or coaching, it's fucked up how life works sometimes.

It's kind of hard to put this in writing so I just scanned and threw up on here.

Hope everyone's BBQ'n or at least taking it easy today.

~Gil
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Awake.

"I'm not happy unless I have some kind of pain in my life."

-Carey Hart

“Sometimes it still hurts. You know how it is. Every day it hurts a little less, and then one day you wake up and the pain is gone. But the funny thing is you learn to miss that pain because, like her, it was a part of your life for so long.”

-Mike Peters (from Swingers)

*********

It's going to be a busy week.  Prom's on Friday, I still need to pick up a tie and/or shirt.  Thursday's probably going to be crazy as well.  I won't have a lot of time this week, which is why I wanted a lot of things to get done this past weekend.  Of course most of it was spent watching movies, (watched Memento and 2 Fast, 2 Furious today) listening to music, and lamenting.  Eh, watching Memento was interesting, especially after reading that little article I posted about.  Do we exaggerate our memories?  Weren't those feelings as good as we remember them?  That is, if you remember them at all.  Some people forget things that seem so memorable.  Nothing is trivial, yet...

I guess I sometimes get the feeling that things, events, moments, mean more to me than they do to others.  Does the alcohol make them forget?  Were the good times just chemically induced?  I'm rambling, I know...

Oh, check out www.fenyxrising.com when you get the chance...heh.

But back to Memento, (which is a must see if you haven't already) this was particularily relevant...

Memory can change the shape of a room; it can change the color of a car. And memories can be distorted. They're just an interpretation, they're not a record, and they're irrelevant if you have the facts.

A few more...

We all need mirrors to remind ourselves who we are.

I can't remember to forget you. 

You don't want the truth. You make up your own truth.

Do we?  Do we make up our own truth?  I mean, we've got other people to confirm or deny life's little moments?  Don't we?  Or, when we look back, longingly, at a time, at a person, are we feeling more than was actually there?

I think way too much for my own good.