zgodt
11-15-2008, 09:00 PM
It is a beautiful night, because the oldest of old technology still tells us how to ferment grapes into wine, which comes white or red, so there are still choices in all things, in markets, in democracies, and newer technology gives us pandora radio, where you can set your very own station based on "Hallowed Be Thy Name" and be constantly amazed at how much DC post-hardcore comes up, stuff like Faraquet and Q is Not U, and how many fantastic new bands you discover like Hot Snakes and Hella and The Joggers, and none of it metal, like maybe you'll hear something off Sad Wings of Destiny and rarely something off AMOLAD, and on a fairly regular basis that one fucking Foo Fighters cover of "Baker Street" that you love like mad but could never find on any of their albums or singles in stores, but here it is for the listening almost nightly, YES, and there's wine, and there was a whole day to spend writing, I mean you didn't have to spend it writing, maybe you spent your day raking leaves (which I gotta tomorrow or soon) or maybe you had to work at your shitty job or even your job you love, or maybe you watched college football or NBA basketball or maybe you played Magic the Gathering and wondered why you can never meet dames, the point is there was a day, a whole entire fucking day, and you could do with it what you pleased, and now it's night, or maybe when you read this it's the next day (as if anyone is reading this far -- don't flatter yourself jack) and you remember fondly what you did, or maybe you remember it shittily, because you didn't take full advantage of the beautiful things like wine and love and Pandora radio, but still you have a brain and in it there's a memory which is made of electric and chemical impulses splashing here and there among your neurons inside your very own skull which is yours and no one elses, and no one can take it away from you, and no one can feel what it's like for your thoughts and sensations to squirm around right there against the inside edge of it, only you can feel that and it's amazing, it's the most amazing sensation, and you get to feel it all the time, every second you breathe or shit or sleep you have that brain in there, even if it's hampered by tipsiness or temporary insanity it's still firing and you're alive and it's 2008, you'll never get to be a Roman Centurion or one of the Bronte sisters but then they'll never get to be you either, they'll never get to see an automobile or listen to an electric guitar, just think of that, they'll never get to hear that dual-guitar harmony riff at the end of "Hallowed Be Thy Name," which is one of the universe's most wonderful experiences, of which no one should be cheated, and aren't you fucking lucky because you weren't cheated of it, you got to hear it, whenever you wanted, maybe even live once or twice, and now you remember that, and you breathe, and wine exists in a bottle somewhere whether or not you're drinking it, you could be, and maybe sometime soon you will be or won't be, it's your choice, you can do what you want, and I love you for it but not half as much as I hope you love yourself for it and your life, and I raise my glass to you, and then I drain my glass, and then I hobble off downstairs to refill my glass and we can do it all again. Cheers.
(Thread title plagiarized from Wallace Stevens. If you don't know, go learn.)
(Thread title plagiarized from Wallace Stevens. If you don't know, go learn.)