i think you're a contra

New York City.  It's big.  The big buildings throw punches at you while you're walking down the street.  You have to avoid them, the punches.  Last time I was in New York I listened to Vampire Weekend's latest album over and over.  It's a good new york album.  Now, my life is simple.  I'm no longer in new york and maybe I miss the buildings a little.  But I'm listening to Vampire Weekend so I'm going to write a poem.  hehehe.

the salty dog grabbed the waitress
and went for broke
exchanging his coinage (pennies) for her snatch
wealth.
I can't take it! I can't take it! she cried
and tears came like watermelon seeds
and I'm a happy teddy bear.
now we sit along the wall and watch the
facebook
open and close open and close open and close
sixteen figurines and a salty roof
mansard bastard and watermelon, too.
the beat box 80's rap star's wife's girlfriend
calls me on her cell phone
"it's ee and i'm cumming!!!"
"oh shit i'll be right over!"
"don't bother.  the damage is done."
inside the moma i see a klee and a honeybee
and a klee and a payyyyyyphone.
keep me captured she calls over the wire, through the can of tomato soup
mr. brainwash original
on the wall of the pristine palace of new commodities
rage against the artwallinfectednothing
mason commercials mediated psychologists open heart
surgery
climb the pole
feel the role
roll the scroll
read the bible
open the cabinet
smoke the smell
torah time open wine modern catapult your feelings into excess away from loving tender comfort
sleeeeeeeeeeep!!!!

but gosh.  it's got to be better than this right?

that's the end of my poem.

much love,
Anthony

Swashbuckler Blues

I like this song by the Theater Fire.  There's a lyric that goes:

"So it's strange how I am my old man
despite all attempts
to be Errol Flynn"

I've been feeling a strong sensation recently to let go of all the anxiety that goes along with the pressure i put on myself to be famous.  It sounds ridiculous, but I have a complex tendency to want to produce great works of art, maybe a short story or a personal essay or a novel or a screenplay or a song or a film.  I put a lot of pressure on myself to produce such great works of art.  But the reality is I'm not prepared and haven't put in the time.  I play the guitar like a beginner and my songs are more like proto-songs.  I haven't even been playing a lot of guitar recently because I've been focused on my "day-job"and I'm so exhausted with the pressure i put on myself.  I want to let it go.  Like water flowing over my shoulders, there's so much tension in my shoulders, and lately I have felt these moments of release, and I can feel the muscles in my shoulders relax.  I crave this feeling of being relaxed.  And right now I would rather "pursue" this relaxation than try be a creative genius.  That's what I expect of myself.  With some perspective, I realize this is crazy.  With more sanity, I'm working on not working.  I mean I still have a job and I want to do it really well.  But I don't want to carry the anxiety in my shoulders.  I want to let go of that.  I put this pressure on myself to do my job really well, which is at least 8 hours monday through friday, and still have the energy to be a great musician or a great writer.  The last few days I have just wanted to let go of the expectations and the anxiety.

The lyric above captures a lot of this for me.  There are parts of my dad that i really hated as a teenager and young adult.  To accept that, in many respects, I am my father is, well -- I used to think that was the definition of giving up. A lot of self-hate.  I too want to be Errol Flynn, the swashbuckling sword fighter, movie star, handsome hero (the song is actually called Swashbuckler Blues on The Theater Fire's Matter and Light album).  It's ridiculous, but it lives inside me.  And I am glad that the Theater Fire created this song and played this song and sang this song.  In fact, the whole musical arrangement of the song comes across as simple; it just kindof moseys along.  The music reflects the lyrics.  A band member plays the xylophone, a few simple notes repeated that produces a child-like simplicity and naiveté.  One acoustic guitar plays call and response with another acoustic guitar creating a simple melody.  The music and the lyrics, they're about acceptance.  About who we really are.  It's about letting go of the expectations and just allowing yourself to appreciate what you are actually doing.  To accept that you are your father.

I have friends who are truly musically gifted.  I wouldn't shy away from saying they have a kind of genius.  One friend in particular devotes his entire being to music, and the results are wonderful.  I am not him, I'm not George Clooney, I'm not Bob Dylan, and to be honest, this kind of sucks.  But I also  don't want to give up music or writing because at times they bring me joy.  But I want to do them free of the expectations and the ridiculous hope that I will create something genius and become famous or wealthy from it.  That's hard for me.  Acceptance is like the blues, at first.  But I think over time, if you can accept who you are, the fact that you are going to be a lot more like your parents than Errol Flynn, (a whole lot of your father's nature and nurture went into making you; not so much time with or DNA from Errol, unfortunately) I think this kind of acceptance can work to your advantage. You seek out and come to projects where you can pour your soul into them for the right reasons.

Without doubt, this stuff is complicated.  There's so many schools of thought.  For example, there are those that say, "push yourself to be great; rise above the average man."  But I think, for me, that's a bit elitist (I don't claim to be completely free from elitism), and more importantly, right now, that's not where my head is at.  I want to be free from the anxiety of expectations.  I would rather live momentarily in the swashbuckler blues.  Lay down on the floor with my head looking up, breathe, and relax.

Yours, fair reader, filled with love and hope.

Anthony