Memory of an Accident

It was a Saturday night after a long day of walking around the filthy holes of the city. I had a bottle of beer with a friend at one of the those run-down stalls that dare to call themselves bars. I decided to call it a night before the next unworthy indie band played. 

I went to the parking lot and started my car. A public utility jeep hit me from behind while I was backing out of the dark parking lot. I was shocked, I couldn't move. It was a hit and run. I drove a bit and pulled over to the nearest well-lighted spot. 

I stepped out and checked my car for the damage: the back bumper was bent and the right panel was dragging down the pavement. A guy was walking on the side-walk and saw the ruin which was my crushed back bumper. I said "hey" and asked for help. He said he'd come back. 

A few moments later he walked over to me with a thick plastic string. He helped me tie the bumper just enough so I could drive it home in one piece. When it was done, I thanked the guy and drove away. My hands were trembling all night, it was a wonder how it controlled the steering wheel. Adrenalin kept me going until I finally got home.  

This is what everyone knows about the accident. 

The Artist Inspiring Other Artists: Leonard Cohen

Leonard Cohen in the '60s-- he looks a lot like Pete Yorn here, don't you think?

Leonard Cohen is a poet, novelist, and musician inducted into the American Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2008. His song Hallelujah was originally released in 1984, covered by John Cale, and later on covered by Jeff Buckley’s haunting vocals in the ‘90s.

Baby I have been here before

I know this room, I've walked this floor

I used to live alone before I knew you.

I've seen your flag on the marble arch

Love is not a victory march

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah…

Maybe there’s a God above

But all I’ve ever learned from love

Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you

It’s not a cry you can hear at night

It’s not somebody who has seen the light

It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah…

Hallelujah cover by Jeff Buckley

In one of Tori Amos’ live performances, Leonard Cohen read a few lines of poetry before the song “Silent All These Years.” It is the 2^nd single from her debut album, and is, I believe, still the most outstanding Tori Amos song to grace the airwaves.


I've heard of a man who says words so beautifully that if only he speaks their name, women give themselves to him. If I am dumb beside your body while silence blossoms like tumors on our lips, it is because I hear a man climb the stairs and clear his throat outside our door.

Silent All These Years by Tori Amos, with words from Leonard Cohen

This Summer

let's see how this one goes

to the other side of myself

i'm having bouts of self-mutilation in my head again. most days i feel this lack of energy does me good only because it keeps me from destroying this body. the images come in succession when i'm trying to focus on writing, and mostly when i'm trying to find rest. it keeps me from sleeping. it's strange how one can be so restless and yet feel so weak. the restlessness sustains me with an illusion of control, while i feel weak when it finally becomes a kind of physical anxiety, as if i'm squirming for air in a tiny room. awful, this failure of not doing. the frustration arrives when i see how i've wasted so many days, months of my life, accomplishing nothing important. 

you see, it's hard to love yourself when you've been in conflict with it for a while. self, you keep searching for different ways to resolve concerns, even opt for temporary solutions, to find another way to live; anything but the ways myself has suggested. see, here. i have paralyzed myself. settling for the things i have and still managing to lose them isn't a favorable streak. and i know it will not work; what i want isn't always what i need. self, you might want to do yourself a favor while you still have the time. already i dread losing you to contempt. get out, and while you're at it, why don't you do some real talking?

If You Like Leaving

Back when Boeing 747 was the largest aircraft, a Swedish band composed a song titled 747. Its lyrics had nothing to do with aeroplanes.

In the late '90s, the song was number 1 in the NU107 radio countdown for weeks. Though the song debuted in English, I always preferred the Swedish version over the English one because of a slight difference in the latter's sound arrangement. Read the English translation of the lyrics below.


747

Silence, like a whisper
Maybe tomorrow it won't be here
So tomorrow we could teach them
Some new styles
You're such a killer
So shoot me down again
It won't hurt when the killing is done by a friend

Silence, like a whisper
So this is all we need
The fully air conditioned sound of speed
A violent whisper
And this time it's for real
So this day I made plans for us to leave

Silence, why won't you listen?
Maybe it's just me
But sometimes it's impossible to breathe
A violent whisper
Maybe this time it won't heal
Maybe this time it will bleed until I'm free

****

Listen to the original version below.

Don't just sit there.

Have you found love? Did you find love again?

As the Sparrow

To give life you must take life,
and as our grief falls flat and hollow
upon the billion-blooded sea
I pass upon serious inward-breaking shoals rimmed
with white-legged, white-bellied rotting creatures
lengthily dead and rioting against surrounding scenes.
Dear child, I only did to you what the sparrow
did to you; I am old when it is fashionable to be
young; I cry when it is fashionable to laugh.
I hated you when it would have taken less courage
to love.

-- Charles Bukowski