Cloud

I thought I saw the future in a dream.
But perhaps the dream just pushed me toward the future.

My America.

The red-faced politician screaming his beliefs, they are the only way out.

The pale, white faced kids, tapping at keys and ruining their ears.

The blue faced criminal, hanging from a noose in your grandfather's garden.

Too Much Sleep

I need to cut the strings. Real people can not be imaginary friends. I'll never be satisfied until it's past(passed), so why bother striving for satisfaction? When someone asks me "what's wrong?", I seldom have the ability to answer. I think, above all else, the problem is as follows:

I WANT STABILITY.
I HAVE STABILITY=MONOTONY.
I HAVEN'T STABILITY=DEPENDABILITY.
I HAVE EVERYTHING NEEDED, BUT FEW THINGS WANTED.


I need to meditate. I need to sort things out. There is no appropriate metaphor for how my life is right now. Maybe a swamp. Maybe not. The few rays of sunshine are fleeting. Shut the fuck up, because I am tired of getting caught in the middle. I wonder if, come December, I'll look back and laugh at how foolish and unhappy I've been. I had a dream, we were on a roller coaster, and we went down into some pit, and everyone dropped their valuables into a net. I guess it was just a haunted house, but I never did get out. I woke up wrapped in a spider's web somewhere down there. You lived in a cabin, and I loved you then. Maybe I will forever. Until something better comes along, that is.

A guy can hope.

Another crook.

We're so offensive, defensive.
Worthless pieces, piles.
Puzzles, grains of sand.
The same pattern, repeated.
Day after day, waltz through the songs.

Stale thoughts, stale affections.
Let the water rush on,
Your commands can't stop it.
The sky grows light, then darkens.
What makes you think you can change it?

You cry "this is unjust!"
But, The Jury brushes it aside.
You plead insanity, you swear it.
They can see through it.
They see the scared boy underneath.

The trees whisper fabricated secrets,
As you complain to your cell mates
"I just needed ____, I shouldn't be here!"
They laugh, They all tried being crazy, too.
"Even I tried that", says the demon in the corner

Every path is just a dead end.
The faces we wear are false.
Every hour that ticks by,
Reeks of hate and boredom.
The faces we wear are not our own.

"You came to take us, All things go, all things go To recreate us"

Bland day off. Oh well, what would I expect. Nothing too good, and nothing too bad. Sums up this point in my life. I seriously think nothing has changed since October started, or maybe even since school started. Nothing has changed. Or at least, nothing for me. I'm still waiting, and looking. Two of the people I care most about seem to have stopped caring about me (to varying degrees, of course). Fuck this year, and I don't care that my blog has just been complaining lately. Ever since swine flu that's all its been, really. One good entry, and the rest is this. Maybe some poetry will come to me soon.

Music for the night: Sufjan Stevens- Illinoise: Been meaning to check this out for about 3 years now. Finally did. Really great stuff. Worth the praise.

Refresh

I used to press a cell phone to my head for hours.
I divulged secrets. I loved, I lost, I won.
I got out of it. It's what I'm best at.
I sit here with my music, as if...
As if it proves my worth, my existence.
I had great moments, I had bad ones.
I know, I hope, I still have many of each.
They all tell me I have low hopes.
I guess, I just think it is reality.
But what is reality? Why would I know?
I get through every day like trudging through...
Wet sand, or some other fucking metaphor.
I have fun, I laugh. I have friends.
One, maybe two, things keep me down.
I'm fine. Why do I end the day feeling
Well, FEELING, man FEELING incomplete.
When does the good have its turn again?
And what the fuck does this..
Does this have to do with real life?
Where is God? WHERE is salvation?
Don't get.me.wrong. I have no illusions...
That my problems matter. I just, wash them away.
What do my complaints have to do with the poor
Man in China, in India, in Africa?
I bet he wishes he had my problems.
I bet he'd kill his neighbor for them.
We all think we have so much time ahead of us.
I'm not even 17. I should be fine.
CHANCES ARE. But, If I, if WE, HAVE SO much time...
Why do I feel like I'm done?
SO GIRLS, SO GUYS, SO LADIES, SO GENTS:
I know this is just a vertical list of complaints,
I know it's no poem.
Leave it be.
Refresh.

"You're pretty good at forgiving what hasn't happened yet"

So, Homecoming sort of sucked. Mostly my fault, I was acting awkward. Plus, I just don't like dancing. After the dance was really fun though, so that makes up for it. I finished my review of Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson- Summer of Fear, so let me know what you think. Day off Tuesday. Excellent.

Yes, the man has a long name. The first thing anyone will say when you mention the Brooklyn based singer/songwriter is “What was his name again?”. So, for the sake of convenience, we’ll just stick with “Robinson” or “MBAR” for the time being. After falling into a drug and alcohol induced depression, Robinson made some important friends in the indie rock community (Kyp Malone of TV on the Radio and Chris Taylor of Grizzly Bear) who, fortunately, saw a great amount of talent in the struggling musician. In 2008, MBAR’s eponymous debut was released, amounting a Vampire Weekend sized amount of hype in the New York indie scene. Shortly after the debut was released, Saddle Creek records (home of giants such as Bright Eyes and Cursive) came a-knockin’ at Robinson’s door, and the deal was settled. Summer of Fear, an album that Miles had been working on even before his debut, was released digitally on September 22^nd, 2009 as his sophomore release.

Where the debut had only 10 songs, Summer of Fear has 13, and runs over an hour long. If one had to choose an adjective to describe the mood of Robinson’s songs, “depressing” would be a top contender. However, Summer of Fear seems to have a few strands of hope that the debut lacked. The album begins on a somber note with “Shake a Shot”, which introduces the electric piano that becomes a staple throughout almost the entire album. Summer of Fear takes MBAR in a direction that seems to make sense, but also comes as a surprise. One would have thought that the somber acoustic numbers that populated about half of the debut would reappear; however, it seems that the young song-writer delved into his rock history and used the influences of artists such as Bob Dylan(most obvious on the eleven-minute epic “More Than A Mess”), Tom Petty, and, in some instances, Bruce Springsteen.

The production, courtesy of the aforementioned Kyp Malone, gives each instrument on the album the perfect amount of room to breathe. The use of multiple vocal tracks also add to Robinson’s charm, although his voice is, without a doubt, a love it or hate it sort of thing. Unlike his 2008 effort, Summer of Fear finds MBAR using various vocal styles; at one moment he could be speaking and a second later he could be belting out soulfully. Tracks such as “The Sound” and “Trap Door” showcase both Robinson’s pop sensibility and his bleak lyrics (“Why should I try to hang onto anyone else, it’s a hard enough time just trying to hang myself” or “There’s a trap door in every rock bottom”).

Each and every song on the album adds to the overall effect, and I couldn’t imagine the record being the same if any of the songs were to be removed. The tracks often seem to reach a climax towards the end, and choruses are not present in every song. Miles does an excellent job of keeping every song interesting, and Summer of Fear is sure to keep even his fans guessing upon their first listen. “The 100^th of March” and “Always an Anchor” are in close competition for my favorite track, but in reality, any song off of the album could be considered a favorite track. Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson has released one of 2009’s best records, and, if he keeps it up, deserves to go down in history as one of our generation’s best songwriters.