I was spending my time in the doldrums I was caught in the cauldron of hate I felt persecuted and paralyzed I thought that everything else would just wait While you are wasting your time on your enemies Engulfed in a fever of spite Beyond your tunnel vision reality fades Like shadows into the night
To martyr yourself to caution Is not going to help at all Because there'll be no safety in numbers When the Right One walks out of the door
Can you see your days blighted by darkness? Is it true you beat your fists on the floor? Stuck in a world of isolation While the ivy grows over the door
So I open my door to my enemies And I ask could we wipe the slate clean But they tell me to please go fuck myself You know you just can't win
Today marks one of those special, human moments of reflection. Another arbitrary milestone has been reached in an arbitrary measurement of an average rocky planet's journey around an average star. Our interpersonal communications are awash with greetings to mark the occasion and proclamations of how, this time around in our solar orbit, things will be different.
Me? I don't feel any different. I'm still buried underneath a mountain of debt. I still work at the same place I did when I started vacation just before Christmas, and I still don't have my master's degree. I'm still overweight and underlaid. People don't change, especially overnight. That resolution to save money or go to the gym three times a week will give way soon enough.
That doesn't mean we can't try, of course. To fundamentally improve our lot in life is as equally human a trait as is the need to reflect. I'm just saying don't merely reserve this self-examination and reassessment for one day on the calendar. Try each and every day to make a difference, or to set a reachable and tangible goal. And if you fail, don't stress about it at all; there's always tomorrow.
Tomorrow marks Election Day in the United States, and I fully intend to be part of the wave that will sweep Republicans back into a position of significant power at the federal and state levels. The sharp divide that will mark our government once its all said and done is perhaps the only way to ensure no further damage in the form of "historic" legislation, bailouts, or stimulus packages will wind up on the books.
My predictions? GOP takes the house easily, but falls a little short in the Senate. The "wish" races (Bielat, O'Donnell, Fiorina, Angle, Whitman) fail to pain out, but nearly every other race goes red. Statewide, Andrew Cuomo earns the NY Governor's mansion, but at least one major office (either Attorney General or Comptroller) winds up in Republican hands. Locally, Vince Tabone wins my previously Democratic Assembly seat in an open race, and all other incumbents retain.
Anyway, to mark the occasion, let's dig deep down into the most anarchic of the Pink Floyd catalogue and enjoy the tale of comeuppance that is Dogs. Checking in at nearly 20 minutes in length, it's perhaps my favorite of the Floyd "long" songs and, 30 years later, even this solo remake by Roger Waters hits the mark perfectly.
In case you don't want to sit through the whole thing, at least browse the lyrics:
You got to be crazy, you gotta have a real need You gotta sleep on your toes and when you're on the street You got to be able to pick out the easy meat with your eyes closed And then moving in silently, down wind and out of sight You gotta strike when the moment is right without thinking
And after a while, you can work on points for style Like the club tie, and the firm handshake A certain look in the eye and an easy smile You have to be trusted by the people that you lie to So that when they turn their backs on you You'll get the chance to put the knife in
You gotta keep one eye looking over your shoulder You know, it's going to get harder, and harder, and harder As you get older Yeah, and in the end you'll pack up and fly down south Hide your head in the sand Just another sad old man All alone and dying of cancer
And when you lose control, you'll reap the harvest you have sown And as the fear grows, the bad blood slows and turns to stone And it's too late to lose the weight you used to need to throw around So have a good drown, as you go down all alone Dragged down by the stone
Gotta admit that I'm a little bit confused Sometimes it seems to me as if I'm just being used Gotta stay awake, gotta try and shake off this creeping malaise If I don't stand my own ground, how can I find my way out of this maze
Deaf, dumb and blind, you just keep on pretending That everyone's expendable, and no one has a real friend And it seems to you the thing to do would be to isolate the winner Everything's done under the sun But you believe at heart everyone's a killer
Who was born in a house full of pain Who was trained not to spit in the fan Who was told what to do by the man Who was broken by trained personnel Who was fitted with collar and chain Who was given a pat on the back Who was breaking away from the pack Who was only a stranger at home Who was ground down in the end Who was found dead on the phone Who was dragged down by the stone Who was dragged down by the stone
Sunday, January 29, 2012 at 5:21PM