11.03.2004

'Love and mercy that's what you need tonight. So, love and mercy to you and your friends tonight'

I just arrived back to my home from seeing Brian Wilson. So my breath has been taken from me and the words are just as good as moans and grunts. Brian Wilson is pretty much a prophet, a beacon, and my cure for this disease. Disease. Dis-Ease.

I went to bed last night thinking there are 50 million people out there that agree with me, and a little more than 50 million people that don't. There is no way 50 million people are this dumb. A voice deep inside me found the way out, there are not dumb, they are simple. They are mundane, and shunning any pluralism. Down Home Folks. Most voters voted with their morals and values, their wrecking-ball traditional values. Traditional = Simple.

John and Yoko said 'The war is over....if you want it to be' I guess people really don't want it to be.

I awoke in distress. Is this the karma for an apathetic society? A distracted society driven by fear ?

Where is my cure for this disease?

I found a cure in the voice and mind of a troubled man who's life was a struggle, and after all that heart break he can back come with this heavy, emotionally rescuing music. It fills me with hope.

I need to thank my friends and family. I come to this cure in your solace.

"The arc of history is long, but it bends with justice"
- Martin Luther King Jr.

1 Comments:

Blogger hyman? said...

Yes yes, let us downtrodden and questionably defeated individuals find solace where we can....I took it out on the road, and let me tell you that thank god there was a good three hundred miles of it for me to run around on the day after the election, or else certain Los Angeles health clubs and other known self-improvement establishments might have found their front windows broken and their ominous machinery defouled by pieces of rotting fish. I personally voted, I did my part, and so did the rest of the country, and I realize how much I love this new voting system where all I had to do is lie in my sarcophigal bunk and have the microchip in my brain scanned by a giant floating government issue red eyeball sentry. I don't even remember picking a candidate, but I'm sure the microchip accurately expressed all my wills and desires to the concerned robot pollsters.
Ah well. The desert looks the same, just as the Mad Dr. Wilson's music sounds the same, and hopefully that won't change, hopefully there will remain some things that they just can't touch. And let them not forget, that they may have taken four more years now, but they've also added another couple hundred horsepower and a fresh simoniz to the steamroller that is our generation, and next time there's gonna' be little that won't be flattened in our wake. If there is a next time.

11/05/2004  

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