The Moment (Hammered)

Let me preface this with the fact it is 3:05am on Thursday night/Friday morning, Lisa Robin Myers and i Broke up again... and I am, needless to say...Hammered.... I was thinking back to my last significant post where i wrote on W.H. Auden's epic poem "mussee des beaux arts" and thought of its implications to our everyday life.... After being all emo and reading a couple of my favorite poems aloud to Dr. DerDer and Flower Child Jimmy I came up with a realization... that the beauty and brevity of life are constantly missed out on....This brings me to Phillip Larkin (1922-1985) maybe the hoodest poet I have ever read... This guy can take a half second moment of life and turn it into an epic poem..."Talking in Bed":

Talking in bed ought to be easiest,
Lying together there goes back so far,
An emblem of two people being honest.

Yet more and more time passes silently.
Outside, the wind's incomplete unrest
Builds and disperses clouds about the sky,

And dark towns heap up on the horizon.
None of the cares for us. Nothings Shows why
At this unique distance from isolation

It becomes still more difficult to find
Words at once true and kind,
Or not untrue and not unkind.


This poem more or less is about a one night stand, and how talking in bed should be the most fundamental moment of love making, yet with a stranger, makes an ever so intimate moment... well Alien.... the last stanza:

It becomes still more difficult to find
Words at once true and kind,
Or not unture and not unkind.

What the fuck do you say?? here you are in the most personal of exchanges of human (bodily fluid) and it's easier to give out then words... What this has to do with the rest of my post... I have no idea, I think i just want you to read Phillip Larkin (Aubade, This be the Verse)....

The actual poem that hit me at home was by Stevie Smith entitled "Not Waving but Drowning"


Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been to cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.


BTW I personally love this poem, so my analysis is over thought and over read, but it rings true to everyone around us. We live in a world of people crying out for help, yet we let it slide, we take it for what it is, and let drugged out nights bleed into hungover mornings. The idea of waving not drowning is so simplistic in thought yet prevalent in life. There are always signs, there are always people saying "Ya, we should have seen that coming" but rather than act on it we live with it, hoping that this mornings tragedy avoid our mornings consciousness... I am as guilty as any... like always, no rhyme nor reason, just stimulation... if you see someone in need rather than 'wave' back, save them... the morning news is no place for a friends name... I love you guys and I wish you all the best....


DK and Mitro, stoked to see you in the house again tomorrow!! God (whoever he may be) bless


GuzzNa$ty