2007/11/29
Dancing in the Dark
Completing the triumvirate of song posts, the lyrics to Bruce Springsteen's Dancing in the Dark parallel my current existence rather acutely. Deconstruct at your leisure:
Dancing in the Dark
Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band
off the album Born in the U.S.A. (1984)
I get up in the evening,
and I ain't got nothing to say
I come home in the morning
I go to bed, feeling the same way
I ain't nothing but tired
Man I'm just tired and bored with myself
Hey there baby, I could use just a little help
You can't start a fire,
You can't start a fire without a spark
This gun's for hire,
even if we're just dancing in the dark
Message keeps getting clearer,
Radio's on and I'm moving 'round the place
I check my look in the mirror,
I wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face
Man I ain't getting nowhere,
I'm just living in a dump like this
There's something happening somewhere,
Baby I just know that there is
You can't start a fire,
You can't start a fire without a spark
This gun's for hire
Even if we're just dancing in the dark
You sit around getting older
There's a joke here somewhere and it's on me
I'll shake this world off my shoulders
Come on baby, this laugh's on me
Stay on the streets of this town,
and they'll be carving you up alright.
They say you gotta stay hungry,
Hey baby I'm just about starving tonight
I'm dying for some action,
I'm sick of sitting 'round here trying to write this book.
I need a love reaction,
Come on now baby, gimme just one look.
You can't start a fire, sitting 'round crying over a broken heart.
This gun's for hire,
Even if we're just dancing in the dark.
You can't start a fire, worrying about your little world falling apart.
This gun's for hire,
Even if we're just dancing in the dark
Even if we're just dancing in the dark
Even if we're just dancing in the dark
Even if we're just dancing in the dark
Hey baby
I could do without the copious "hey baby's" but yea. Not bad for a 23 old song.
Video w/ bonus 80s cheeziness
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pk8VZgJkpeg
=//Turnquest
Teenage Kicks
Are teenage dreams so hard to beat
Everytime she walks down the street
Another girl in the neighbourhood
Wish she was mine, she looks so good
I wanna hold her wanna hold her tight
Get teenage kicks right through the night
I'm gonna call her on the telephone
Have her over cuz i'm all alone
I need exitement oh i need it bad
And its the best, i've ever had
I wanna hold her wanna hold her tight
Get teenage kicks right through the night
I wanna hold her wanna hold her tight
Get teenage kicks right through the night
=//Turnquest
Everytime she walks down the street
Another girl in the neighbourhood
Wish she was mine, she looks so good
I wanna hold her wanna hold her tight
Get teenage kicks right through the night
I'm gonna call her on the telephone
Have her over cuz i'm all alone
I need exitement oh i need it bad
And its the best, i've ever had
I wanna hold her wanna hold her tight
Get teenage kicks right through the night
I wanna hold her wanna hold her tight
Get teenage kicks right through the night
=//Turnquest
2007/11/27
Decades
Here are the young men, the weight on their shoulders,
Here are the young men, well where have they been?
We knocked on the doors of Hell's darker chamber,
Pushed to the limit, we dragged ourselves in,
Watched from the wings as the scenes were replaying,
We saw ourselves now as we never had seen.
Portrayal of the trauma and degeneration,
The sorrows we suffered and never were free.
Where have they been?
Where have they been?
Where have they been?
Where have they been?
Weary inside, now our heart's lost forever,
Can't replace the fear, or the thrill of the chase,
Each ritual showed up the door for our wanderings,
Open then shut, then slammed in our face.
Where have they been?
Where have they been?
Where have they been?
Where have they been?
- Curtis/Sumner/Hook/Morris
http://www.warpedrealitymagazine.com/Decades.mp3
* * *
Here are the young men, well where have they been?
We knocked on the doors of Hell's darker chamber,
Pushed to the limit, we dragged ourselves in,
Watched from the wings as the scenes were replaying,
We saw ourselves now as we never had seen.
Portrayal of the trauma and degeneration,
The sorrows we suffered and never were free.
Where have they been?
Where have they been?
Where have they been?
Where have they been?
Weary inside, now our heart's lost forever,
Can't replace the fear, or the thrill of the chase,
Each ritual showed up the door for our wanderings,
Open then shut, then slammed in our face.
Where have they been?
Where have they been?
Where have they been?
Where have they been?
- Curtis/Sumner/Hook/Morris
http://www.warpedrealitymagazine.com/Decades.mp3
* * *
2007/11/16
Faaaayyyyccceeeebuuuuhhhhkkkkk
Everyone knows or has heard of this site called Facebook. It's MySpace all grown-up; social networking with all the restrictions and computerized moderation that that immature upstart doesn't have.
MySpace is like the local pub where all the kids hang out and pitchers are 5$. Facebook is the snooty afterhours club that charges 25$ cover and has two angry Russian bouncers.
Anyway, I spent the 15-20 minutes it takes to look over the Facebook Privacy Policy, since nobody has as empty and dull of a life as I do, therefore skipping reading website privacy polices.
Here are some highlights I dug up that I wish to share to those of you who choose to use Facebook. Pay attention.
Excerpt One:
By default, we [Facebook] use a persistent cookie that stores your login ID (but not your password) to make it easier for you to login when you come back to Facebook. You can remove or block this cookie using the settings in your browser if you want to disable this convenience feature.Ok, so that's not terrible. In fact, I'm sure most users find it convenient. But consider this: the lion's share of Facebook's users and core audience are college students. College students have a habit of using public, shared labs with public, shared internet terminals (except the rich kids with their MacBooks). Those terminals are already bad enough in that most of them don't log you out automatically should you forget to do so.
In general, sensitive internet work like online banking and such should not be done on publicly-accessible terminals at all.
So by default, keeping your login ID (which inconveniently is your e-mail address) stored in the little box lets the next user know a key piece of information. Facebook says if you don't like it, change the browser settings. Yeah, try that on any college computer and you'll get a big fat "Administrator priviliges" warning. Moving on... Excerpt Two:
Facebook may also collect information about you from other sources, such as newspapers, blogs, instant messaging services, and other users of the Facebook service through the operation of the service (e.g., photo tags) in order to provide you with more useful information and a more personalized experience.This little idea reoccurs a number of times in the privacy policy. I'd probably have to send an e-mail to them or talk to my lawyer to know exactly what they mean by this, but like, ain't it sort of creepy that a website tells you that it might essentially wanna cyberstalk you?
Excerpt Three:
By using Facebook, you are consenting to have your personal data transferred to and processed in the United States.
Self-explanatory. Caveat emptor, my Iranian and North Korean comrades. Excerpt Four:
Facebook may use information in your profile without identifying you as an individual to third parties. We do this for purposes such as aggregating how many people in a network like a band or movie and personalizing advertisements and promotions so that we can provide you Facebook. We believe this benefits you. You can know more about the world around you and, where there are advertisements, they're more likely to be interesting to you.Oh God. "We believe this benefits you?" "You can know more about the world around you?" That's some f_ucked up stuff. I'm glad a corporation now owned partially by Microsoft believes that them making money off of selling my personal information is good for me. En plus, it will teach me about the world around me. That just sounds like a self-help video for autistic kids. Anyway, just to put this in perspective, pretty much every site does this. Including of course, Google. Then again, understand that Google doesn't ask you your full date of birth (publicly available on a lot of Facebook profiles) and Home/Mobile phone numbers, and other strange things.
Excerpt Five:
If you, your friends, or members of your network use any third-party applications developed using the Facebook Platform ("Platform Applications"), those Platform Applications may access and share certain information about you with others in accordance with your privacy settings.This one here's the real concern. All those terrible, highly repugnant apps that people pollute their profiles with (iLike, SuperWall, Graffiti, Zombies, EatMyDick etc.) are made by other companies aside from Facebook. For every user too careless to pick through their privacy settings (and there's a hell of a lot), a ton of companies and strange folk may be getting access to personal information about you, and doing God-Knows-What with it. And let me tell you, some of those companies may not be as friendly and smiley as Facebook.
Bonus Excerpt:
If you have any questions about this privacy policy, please contact us at privacy@facebook.com . You may also contact us by mail at 156 University Avenue, Palo Alto, CA 94301.So, now you know. You're all adults hopefully reading this
=//Turnquest
2007/11/10
Silence
To *hell* with Musharraf and all his peons, paymasters and allies.
Your days are numbered, President-General.
That's all I have to say about this.
=//Turnquest
Your days are numbered, President-General.
That's all I have to say about this.
=//Turnquest
2007/10/18
Pakistan on the Precipice
Pakistan's well-liked, populist leader Benazir Bhutto's return to her native country was the stuff of history. The word "triumphant" is a good start in describing the events of Thursday morning October 18. Greeted by hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of elated supporters, the Muslim world's first female leader stepped off the jet on to her native soil for the first time since being exiled 8 years ago. The streets of Karachi were jam-packed, the entire nation of 160 million (and millions abroad) discussing the event unfolding as if this little figure was about to miraculously solve the nation's myriad problems with a wave of her hand.
The miracle never happened. Instead, there came a disaster.
In the wake of the double car-bombing, while corpses still lay on the street at this hour and the irrelevant death toll statistics climb, emotions flare and the naked truth of the situation this country finds itself in is laid bare for the entire globe to see.
Extremism is not the right word for what happened in Pakistan late this evening. Jihad is not correct either, nor its many variants and derivatives like terrorism or fundamentalism. This was the act of psychotics, of animals and savages, of beings who deserve no mercy and shall receive none from God or us vicegerents of His on Earth.
Those amongst the mujahideen in Iraq, Palestine, Afghanistan, Chechnya and elsewhere who claim that civilians are legitimate targets in their war are wrong. They are so wrong in fact, that they believe that God Himself is on their side. They believe somewhere in their minds, honestly believe, that their God wants them to machine-gun mothers, to explode vests amongst crowds of factory workers, to assassinate children and grandmothers for the right to ascend to Paradise.
These are not Muslims, nor Jews, Christians or Hindus. These are not even human beings.
And yet, of all the nations who have a fundamental responsibility to promote and defend a faith from aggressors, and to rescue it from incompetents and mushrikun, the United States of America has taken upon itself to save Islam.
No, I won't blame the U.S. for this decision. There are enough valid things to blame it for. Nay, I condemn the leaders of the Islamic states. I condemn Mubarak, al-Assad, Abdullah and Musharraf. I condemn Abbas and Abdullah II, al-Maliki and Zayed and al-Maktoum, and Aziz. These are the creatures who claim to be men and leaders while they sit in their palaces and estates as rivers of blood flow around them. These will all meet their Creator in the end.
This is it, oh sons and daughters of Jinnah and Iqbal, oh Children of the East. The last line's been crossed. Your fate lies at the end of two polar opposite paths, either salvation and glory or failure and anarchy. How you decide will affect your children and the children of every nation that shares your faith, your opposition to evil and your hopes for something better than the status-quo. Choose wisely.
The miracle never happened. Instead, there came a disaster.
In the wake of the double car-bombing, while corpses still lay on the street at this hour and the irrelevant death toll statistics climb, emotions flare and the naked truth of the situation this country finds itself in is laid bare for the entire globe to see.
Extremism is not the right word for what happened in Pakistan late this evening. Jihad is not correct either, nor its many variants and derivatives like terrorism or fundamentalism. This was the act of psychotics, of animals and savages, of beings who deserve no mercy and shall receive none from God or us vicegerents of His on Earth.
Those amongst the mujahideen in Iraq, Palestine, Afghanistan, Chechnya and elsewhere who claim that civilians are legitimate targets in their war are wrong. They are so wrong in fact, that they believe that God Himself is on their side. They believe somewhere in their minds, honestly believe, that their God wants them to machine-gun mothers, to explode vests amongst crowds of factory workers, to assassinate children and grandmothers for the right to ascend to Paradise.
These are not Muslims, nor Jews, Christians or Hindus. These are not even human beings.
And yet, of all the nations who have a fundamental responsibility to promote and defend a faith from aggressors, and to rescue it from incompetents and mushrikun, the United States of America has taken upon itself to save Islam.
No, I won't blame the U.S. for this decision. There are enough valid things to blame it for. Nay, I condemn the leaders of the Islamic states. I condemn Mubarak, al-Assad, Abdullah and Musharraf. I condemn Abbas and Abdullah II, al-Maliki and Zayed and al-Maktoum, and Aziz. These are the creatures who claim to be men and leaders while they sit in their palaces and estates as rivers of blood flow around them. These will all meet their Creator in the end.
This is it, oh sons and daughters of Jinnah and Iqbal, oh Children of the East. The last line's been crossed. Your fate lies at the end of two polar opposite paths, either salvation and glory or failure and anarchy. How you decide will affect your children and the children of every nation that shares your faith, your opposition to evil and your hopes for something better than the status-quo. Choose wisely.
2007/10/12
Soul on Ice
September 5, 1965
...I feel impelled to express myself to you extravagantly, and words, phrases, sentences, paragraphs leap in my mind. But I beat them down, refuse to write them, because it all seems so predictable and trite. I feel humiliated by the words you inspire me to write to you. I refuse to write them.
You have tossed me a lifeline. I have changed tremendously over the years. But I had always had a strong sense of myself and in the last few years I felt I was losing my identity. There was a deadness in my body that eluded me, as though I could not exactly locate its site. I would be aware of this numbness, this feeling of atrophy, and it haunted the back of my mind...a certain intimation of emptiness.
Now I know what it was. And since encountering you, I feel life strength flowing back into that spot. My stride, which was tentative and uncertain, has begun to recover.
Emphatically Yours,
Eldridge.
///
September 15, 1965,
...I place a great deal of emphasis on people really listening to each other, to what the person has to say, because one seldom encounters a person capable of taking either you or themselves seriously. I had a profound desire for communicating with and getting to know other people, but I was incapable of doing so, I didn't know how.
Do you know what shameless thought just bullied its way into my consciousness? That I deserve you, that I deserve to know you and to communicate with you, that I deserve to have all this happening. What have I done to merit this?
I seek the profound. And it is not a fraud, forced out of desperation. We live in a disoriented, deranged social structure, and we have transcended its barriers in our own ways and have stepped psychologically outside its madness and repressions. It is lonely out here. We recognize each other. And, having recognized each other, is it any wonder that our souls hold hands and cling together even while our minds equivocate, hesitate, vacillate and tremble?
Peace. Don't panic, and don't wake up.
Dream on, I am
Yours,
Eldridge.
Extract from "Soul on Ice" by Eldridge Cleaver. 1968.
...I feel impelled to express myself to you extravagantly, and words, phrases, sentences, paragraphs leap in my mind. But I beat them down, refuse to write them, because it all seems so predictable and trite. I feel humiliated by the words you inspire me to write to you. I refuse to write them.
You have tossed me a lifeline. I have changed tremendously over the years. But I had always had a strong sense of myself and in the last few years I felt I was losing my identity. There was a deadness in my body that eluded me, as though I could not exactly locate its site. I would be aware of this numbness, this feeling of atrophy, and it haunted the back of my mind...a certain intimation of emptiness.
Now I know what it was. And since encountering you, I feel life strength flowing back into that spot. My stride, which was tentative and uncertain, has begun to recover.
Emphatically Yours,
Eldridge.
///
September 15, 1965,
...I place a great deal of emphasis on people really listening to each other, to what the person has to say, because one seldom encounters a person capable of taking either you or themselves seriously. I had a profound desire for communicating with and getting to know other people, but I was incapable of doing so, I didn't know how.
Do you know what shameless thought just bullied its way into my consciousness? That I deserve you, that I deserve to know you and to communicate with you, that I deserve to have all this happening. What have I done to merit this?
I seek the profound. And it is not a fraud, forced out of desperation. We live in a disoriented, deranged social structure, and we have transcended its barriers in our own ways and have stepped psychologically outside its madness and repressions. It is lonely out here. We recognize each other. And, having recognized each other, is it any wonder that our souls hold hands and cling together even while our minds equivocate, hesitate, vacillate and tremble?
Peace. Don't panic, and don't wake up.
Dream on, I am
Yours,
Eldridge.
Extract from "Soul on Ice" by Eldridge Cleaver. 1968.
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