I've been listening to this song so much lately, and for a lot of reasons. First of all, remove the lyrics and you have one of the best zombie theme songs possible (in my opinion). Secondly, with the lyrics, the song serves as a sort of nostalgic memoir, taking me back to about two years ago when I was "madly in love" (which is to say being a stupid and silly boy) with a chick named Sarah. Damien Jurado's passion and lyrics mirror the ocean of thoughts and feelings which I swam in daily back in those days. Certainly my perspective on "true love" has changed since then, gone more of a cynical route; and the whole event added countless "red flags" to my dating bag-o'-tricks. In hindsight, looking back on those days (as I did late last night perched in bed with my new Wal-Mart lamp illuminating my journal pages), I can only smile and shake my head at the foolishness of this boy, a foolishness repeated in more recent times, a foolishness which remains intrinsically connected to an over-arching dream that refuses to die and/or be killed (more on that next week!). As much as I've matured (i.e. become hardened in my cynicism and passing it off as wisdom), this foolishness is something easily-repeated. For as cynical as I am, this much I've learned about myself over the past two months: for better or worse, hope remains an integrated facet of my life, and any attempt to disintegrate it is nothing short of a self-inflicted evisceration.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
in memoriam
I've been listening to this song so much lately, and for a lot of reasons. First of all, remove the lyrics and you have one of the best zombie theme songs possible (in my opinion). Secondly, with the lyrics, the song serves as a sort of nostalgic memoir, taking me back to about two years ago when I was "madly in love" (which is to say being a stupid and silly boy) with a chick named Sarah. Damien Jurado's passion and lyrics mirror the ocean of thoughts and feelings which I swam in daily back in those days. Certainly my perspective on "true love" has changed since then, gone more of a cynical route; and the whole event added countless "red flags" to my dating bag-o'-tricks. In hindsight, looking back on those days (as I did late last night perched in bed with my new Wal-Mart lamp illuminating my journal pages), I can only smile and shake my head at the foolishness of this boy, a foolishness repeated in more recent times, a foolishness which remains intrinsically connected to an over-arching dream that refuses to die and/or be killed (more on that next week!). As much as I've matured (i.e. become hardened in my cynicism and passing it off as wisdom), this foolishness is something easily-repeated. For as cynical as I am, this much I've learned about myself over the past two months: for better or worse, hope remains an integrated facet of my life, and any attempt to disintegrate it is nothing short of a self-inflicted evisceration.
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