I can gather all the news I need on the weather report.
Hey, I’ve got nothing to do today but smile.
Da-n-da-da-n-da-da-n-da-da and here I am
The only living boy in New York

Half of the time we’re gone but we don’t know where,
And we don’t know here.

—Simon and Garfunkle, The Only Living Boy in New York

Every day, we get caught up in our lives.

We adopt pets to give us a sense of family. We eat breakfast at work or in the car to save ourselves time so we can work some more. We scorn those who express emotion, we avoid eye contact with strangers on the street.

Everything we do — the food we eat, the movies we watch, the home team we cheer for, our coffee shop romances — they’re just trying to fill that hole, that gap that’s missing, the only way we feel alive.

We don’t slow down, we don’t figure things out. We don’t reflect and appreciate what we have.

Like strawberry cheesecake ice cream with a thick graham cracker swirl. Like the serenity of the snow that falls around us, when heaven decides to bless the earth.

Life gets in the way of living.

And now I realize just how guilty I’ve been of this. I’ve been looking for love, but never recognized it when I found it. All I ever wanted to do was lie in bed, look into your eyes, and go through my favourite albums with you. But I never did. And now I wonder. Why can’t we just live? We can’t we just love?

Sometimes you have to stop. You can’t capture everything. You need to throw yourself in.

A thousand kisses deep.

(This took four months to write)

I was kicking back on the couch with John
with the lights out and the music on.

Wut wut.

Anyway, we were stoned out of our skulls and it was Naked As We Came by Iron And Wine. We sat there, listening to the dulcet notes of a lone guitar lead into Sam Beam’s sugary voice, soon to be gently rounded off by his sister, Sara, as the harmony. A summer-morning-during-harvest song, or dancing in the middle of a cool rainfall.

She says ‘If I leave before you darling
don’t you waste me in the ground’
I lay smiling like our sleeping children
one of us will die inside these arms

Eyes wide open
naked as we came
one will spread our
ashes round the yard

And we sat there, listening, remarking to each other about how morbid it all was, yet so beautiful.

Even John was moved, but how could he not be? One of them would die but there was solice in the fact that it would be in the embrace of the other, as if neither one would want to die any other way, doing anything else.

And it felt like, for the first time in my life, John could understand a completely different side of me.

It wasn’t a great day for landings, but it was perfect for hanging out on the hill, soaking up the winter sun, and goofing around.

If I’m introduced to a good song at a moment in time, I associate it with a specific memory. At Sandbanks last year, it was Eric blasting Yellow Ledbetter by Pearl Jam before the park warden stopped by to gave warning. This time it was 93 Till Infinity by Souls Of Mischief, a track with a true 90’s beat. It’s easy to deduce the general age of the group from the music; the songs that Eric plays on his stereo are the ones that the Bancroft group grew up listening to.

It was the middle of winter for us, but on that one weekend, it felt like the beginning of spring. We donned our vests, hoodies, and sweaters for runs down the hill. The temperature was just under 10°C, and there was no need for heavy down-filled coats. The scenery is beautiful. No one around, no authority telling us what we can and can’t do. The perfect weekend gettaway.

As Aaron noted, Matt’s ability to jump on a board and naturally carve up the hill after an extended snowboarding hiatus is telling of his board experience in general. The one successful landing I got of Aaron seems tiny compared to the jumps that Matt and Eric do, but he assures me that it’s a lot steeper (and scarier) from the top of the hill than it looks at the bottom.

I haven’t been able to get into anything in the last little while. Keeping myself occupied has been difficult. There are distractions everywhere, and I don’t think this will end until I move.

I’d really like to get into a book, but I’m never in the mood for what I have available. I’ve decided to take a break from Thus Spoke Zarathustra, which is why the Zarathustra sessions are on hold. I zealously read it when I was searching for a greater meaning to the problems I was going through at the time, but now I’d prefer to read something that’s easier to get through. I still have my copy of Doctor Zhivago that Christie gave me, but I would need to be in a certain cultural mood (i.e. Russian) to enjoy it, and I’ve read enough Russian literature in the last five years to keep me satisfied for the next little while. I’d like to start Moby Dick again (and possibly even finish it this time), but I want to be a little more settled in my life before I try reading such an epic again. I’d try to finish the Story Of O, but I generally try to stay away from hardcore erotic literature when I’m on the bus or before I go to sleep. I’m not in the mood for sci-fi right now, which is too bad, because John got me a copy of The Butlerian Jihad a few years ago at Christmas, one of the only thoughtful gifts I’ve ever recieved from him. After reading Tigana I can’t get into any other fantasy books, because they all seem shallow and cheesy in comparison. I’m in the mood for something modern, so maybe I’ll go to Chapters and pick up a copy of The Stone Diaries.

There aren’t any decent games to get into at the moment. I don’t completely agree with the new matchmaking policies introduced in the 1.17 patch of Frozen Throne, so I don’t play on battle.net anymore. Usually it’ll be a tower map against John, or a big free-for-all with Trolley and Aaron, but nothing compared to how addicted I was to Starcraft or TFC. I also know better than to get into something like World Of Warcraft if I want to retain any semblance of an actual life. It’s tragic to not be able to play what could easily be one of the most significant games of the next decade, but I’m not willing to take that risk.

There isn’t any TV I can get into lately either. I’m waiting for the fourth season of Trailer Park Boys to come out on DVD. I’ve watched the first seasons of Arrested Development and Clone High over and over again. I’m waiting for Trolley to recieve the first three seasons of Six Feet Under to come in through Zip.ca before watching it. I got half-way through the second season with Louise, but it started to get pointlessly depressing. Maybe this is just in contrast with shows like Trailer Park Boys and Arrested Development, where people who are placed in the worst situations still manage to keep their chins up and their hopes high.

The only thing that has been able to keep me occupied is music, which has been coming in at a regular pace. After hearing Cochise by Audioslave, I wasn’t too impressed with what has become the aftermath of both Soundgarden and Rage Against The Machine breakups. Perhaps this is due to the fact that I’ve always been on the Nirvana side of the Cobain vs. Cornell debate. Some may think that grunge died with the dissolution of Soundgarden, but Nirvana fucking started it all, mock Pixies band or not. In any case, my first impression of Audioslave’s sound was that it was flat and repetitive. What else can be expected from a bassist known for mimicking the main guitar riff in flagship songs like Bulls On Parade and People Of The Sun? I had been listening to Audioslave’s Shadow Of The Sun from the Collateral soundtrack for two weeks now, but it was only two days ago that it really hit me. And yet I’ve been going through so much music lately, that the song becomes as significant as any another I’ve decided to keep.

I was listening to Manson’s second album, Antichrist Superstar, for the first time after a several year hiatus on the bus to work this morning. I was reminded of how much I went through with this album, for most of high-school and nearly two entire relationships. How comforting this music was for me, on the journey home from my exhausting classes and elitist classmates. It’s the only good album Manson ever put out, and also happens to be the only album that Trent Reznor produced for him. I’m willing to bet that it isn’t simple coincidence.

I never really get a chance to listen to these songs; even though I consider the music to be metal, the songs are too dark and moody to fit into my metal playlist. It’s the same thing with Tool. Aside from Opiate, which was just an EP anyway,Tool’s music has never fit into any specific genre to me. They have a metal feel and progressive rock elements, but are never enough of one or the either to fit into any of my playlists.