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Anada 001
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A A N N A A D D A A
A A N N N A A D D A A
A A N N N A A D D A A
A *** A N N A *** A D D A *** A
A A N N A A D D A A
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A "Another Night and Day Alliance" aNAda #1 A
A A
A by Phairgirl 02/01/00 A
A A
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So many things to do...
So little time to do it all...
Whine whine whine.
I have more dreams than I could possibly IMAGINE trying to live out.
And that's fine. I think everyone needs something like that... an
unattainable goal, a land of make-believe, a place to feel utterly miserable
within onesself. There's nothing wrong with being a miserable failure; I'm
an apt student, and I've learned well.
So little originality is left for us, such a tiny amount of true
innovation left. It's all been done, so we've been told, and we've believed
it all along. They are probably right. What can we do? Hell, reduce,
reuse, recycle, I suppose. We could always just toss everything we already
have and know away and pretend it never happened. Stress relief. Big
smiles for all, right? No more plaigarism--won't let them fill me with
fatalistic remedies. Yeah, that's what I thought.
Of course, we've got this whole reality thing going on, this whole
Life Experience bullshit we're supposed to know, love, whatever. Look!
Things happen every day, we're supposed to be INSPIRED, yo. Hahahaha,
funny. Never mind that if you're feeling pissed off, someone has already
been pissed off first. Someone else has already written the angsty rant.
Someone else has already been looked upon as the Grand Master of Emotions,
Inc., and everything you think makes you a wanna-be, a "scenester", a tired
cliche of days gone by. Okay, fuck, it's true. So now what. So now what.
*** Now that I've established the traditional "cynical outlook", I ***
*** will now attempt the flipside. Please watch for keywords, such as ***
*** "hope", "happiness", and other uppity, proactive bullshit ***
*** motivational speaking that will attempt to bring some twisted change ***
*** of heart. And given that innovation is completely out of the ***
*** question, be prepared to wallow in the muck that just sounds like ***
*** Something I've Read Before. Of course. ***
"Maybe I'll die, maybe I'll learn how to fly."
Explanation. What's so crazy about that? Definition, words of
character, blah blah de freakin blah. I suppose we could run around and
grab the Brittanica off the shelf and accomplish the same thing (or, for
those of us who can't comprehend anyway, a World Book would do). But look
up "emotion". Look up "compassion". Look up "feeling like shit and
wanting to shoot myself in the head". Yeah, that's right. That's the
dictionary's job, and that doesn't explain a goddamn bit of good, either.
Where do we go, now? Depending on who you ask, you could end up
spending hours staring at a giant white field, splattered with red and
orange paint, or you could read some Kerouac or Vonnegut, or possibly even
sit with a pen in your hand yourself. I have decided, in my infinite quest
to resolve this problem, to narrow down the search a little bit and see if
I can't help anyone else lost in this predicament.
Art in any form is inspiring. But one does not nead to be create to
be creative, one does not need to define to be definitive. I have always
found myself turned back to music, in all of its many forms and
incarnations. Such an artistic state so completely devoid of innovation
and inspiration; such a cash machine full of waste and image in so many
aspects. One can only imagine from where my philosophies stem. However,
once every so often, something can sting and bite back right in the cyncial
keister.
"Words falling into my life what should I write?"
Have you ever woken up? Not as "in the morning" woken up, of course.
Have you ever found your raison d'etre without trying, only to have it slap
you in the face? Have you ever sat in an empty void, pondering your
existence, your reason for life, your complexity of emotions? Have you ever
explained yourself to someone in one fleeting thought? Has anyone ever
spent their time explaining their thoughts and emotions, only for you to
discover that they just defined YOU, all that you are, and everything you've
always hoped you would become?
"Last night I just stayed at home alone
I was tearing out the pages from my diary
When a bird flew past my head
So I put them back again 'cause I know
It's alright to like the way I feel."
And now I'm just crying at the thought of it all. There's more than
any words could ever explain... there's this chunk of the universe dubbed My
Life, and it's all mine to share with whom I please. But someone discovered
me... someone has taken care of me and kept me with them, without either of
our knowledge. Something in this universe joined us together. Then I found
out. Then, I woke up.
How can words, how can music say so much? How can the complete
absence of true innovation--simply the presence of an abstract explanation--
fill the void I've felt ever since I can remember? It's the sheer
hauntingness of it, the raw power and emotion, the helpless feeling that
someone else knows you much more intimately than you've ever been honest
enough with yourself to realize on your own.
"There's no one to take my blame
If they wanted to
There's no one to keep me sane
And it's all the same to you
There's nowhere to set my aim
So I'm everywhere
Never come near me again
Do you really think I need you?
And I'll smile and I'll learn to pretend
And I'll never be open again
And I'll have no more dreams to defend
And I'll never be open again."
Fuck me, fuck... Damn you to hell, Kevin Moore, for writing these
words, for forcing my mind to become obsessed to epic proportions. Damn you
for making me face my life. Damn you for seeing who I am. Damn you
everywhere, because I love you, and I don't know where I'd be without your
explanation, your insight, your understanding of night and day and all that
is inbetween. You read me. You see me. You don't know me, I don't know
you, and that's the way it has to stay. There really only needs to be one
of us, but I'm struggling to be my own voice, too. Maybe I'll just repeat
everything you say. There's no more explanations needed, are there?
I really can't help but give credit where credit is due. And with
that, I have to dedicate this existence, this emotion, this life, to
explanation. I'm continuing the exploration here, Kevin, I'm going my own
way now. I'll still listen to what you have to say, but I'm me again, don't
you see? I am another night and day alliance. I am slowly discovering
these things that you've already spelled out for me.
Screw innovation. There's no such thing. I can't wait to explain it
to everyone.
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{ (c)2000 aNAda e'zine * * aNAda001 * by Phairgirl }
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