Wednesday, September 11, 2019

Post Malone - Better Now



Personally I am of the opinion that one should not be a slave to one's own expectations because finding extraordinary treasure in unexpected places happens more often than not.

Just like this picture.

You already know that I am especially fond of  finding male stories about relationship dynamics
(http://derzafanistori.blogspot.com/search/label/On%20Relationships),
and this story is one of the loveliest narrations.

Although Austin Richard Post
(whose nom de plume mention perhaps gives you the hives)
is famous for his laconic brevity,
his contagious presentation (covered in this wonderful exposé: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O2ZsYPWpGBA) has not overshadowed absolutely wonderful selection of motifs and
flawless narration
which in the demonstration of simplicity hides in plain sight
the most important of importants.

As the song progresses,
it grows from impressionism into hyper-realism,
and as it reaches the bridge before the last chorus dumps on the listener,
while not addressing the listener at all but rather the subject of the declaration:
Promise.
Warning.
Synopsis.

I promise
I swear to you, I'll be okay
You're only the love of my life (love of my life)

It is wonderful to find #RelatableContent in somebody else's experiences
and this content, before it turned relatable, was Austin's personal truth from which he could not run away
- so he wrote 'er a song

Above text is my Facebook post published on 06/May/2019 - translated from Croatian

Wednesday, June 12, 2019

War






Morning.
I'm emerging from a dream.
The cat jumps over me, onto me, into my arms,
happy because the change in the rhythm of my breathing translates to a full food bowl,
but my thoughts are filled with fresh memories and in my auditory cortex there is still ringing of the Grandson's interpretation of the Haile Selassie's address to the United Nations in 1963.

In the dream, I remember... that I am aware it is a dream and I'm letting the dream flow, for hours! Dream - that ersatz life, un-real, un-actual, but I WANT it to flow and I permit it for my thoughts and my arms and my heart.
In a dream,
I encounter him again after a long time, in the circumstances no less unpleasant and prickly than reality, with all his wonderful flamboyant uniqueness
And silence.
In the dream there is no silence, in the dream there is civility and cooperation,
No differences to patch, just the open undeclared partnership;
and it is hard to overstate my satisfaction.

It is strange and magnificent
How much a person can be made happy by means of one's own neural substrate,
And stranger and more magnificent still
To see memories create new memories. 

Photo source here.

Thursday, May 30, 2019

Interpol - All The Rage Back Home


It is dark. We are driving; I AM driving, and she is traveling on a passenger seat because she is a big girl already,
my daughter,
she is talking and waving her arms and meters go by, and kilo-meters, semaphores, street lamps and parking lots guarded by dogs,
we are driving
and the radio is on.

There is a song on the radio.
She is listening to the song and I am not because I am driving and because I am a thousand miles away from that car and from that radio and from that song,
but she is happy and she's waving her arms and she yells:

"Why don't we have more songs like this?"

and I have no clue who we are listening to but the question is a lead ball starting the Rube Goldberg machine in my head and after a stream of clicks and whirls and cubes and falls
in the time span shorter then two blinks of an eye
my brain comes up with:
"But we do! We have complete Interpol discography."

After we come home we look into Interpol, we ask for recommendation where to start - because I do not know their discography but rather their sound - and we listen to, recommended,
All The Rage Back Home.

I keep falling, maybe half the time, maybe half the time
I keep falling, maybe half the time, maybe half the time
But it's all the rage back home
It's all the rage back home


She claps her hands, ecstatic to stand in front of one more door leading into the room filled with treasure,
and I sit there motionless,
my insides cut open,
while wondrous hypnotic rhymes avalanche me with powdery whiteness of emotion.
Each wonderful snowflake feather-light mathematical jewel.
All of them together crushing weight of existence.

I keep falling, maybe half the time, maybe half the time
I keep falling, maybe half the time, maybe half the time
But it's all the rage back home
It's all the rage back home


(Above text is my Facebook post published on 05/Dec/2018 - translated from Croatian)

Wednesday, May 15, 2019

The Mountain Goats - No Children



The child fell in love with No Children by The Mountain Goats so that is what we are listening to every morning before facing our day.

She gets up first.

She pushes the wet cat food from the tiny bag into the cat bowls and puts the oatmeal into the microwave while Philly D. is still summarizing yesterday's news, and then she sits to eat and lets Darnielle tell us again (but usually at least three more times) this story of hope and despair and fatality and loss and alcohol and love and the moment trapped in the amber of poetry.

Having it before breakfast makes me a little bit sick,
but,
later on I go to work, I live life and on the brink of returning from work to life I sit in a car full of girls I'm driving home, across the street from Velesajam, while the wind is howling and the Park is waving to me with its lovely long fingers of branches full of fresh leaves
and in my head I hear John listing stuff
and the words shared with us by Andrija Škare about that song during the first Slušaj me.

Behind the eyes, in the dark space, the thoughts are billowing 
and the arrhythmic ticker softly progresses through its numbers. 
Life is beautiful. Pain is a trove. Be happy for this moment for this moment is your life.

Volcano Choir - Comrade



Recently
the world is like a treadmill:
if I'm not running fast enough then I fall
and break my head open.

Living dangerously!
...And yet...
this on-the-border life also holds the particular beauty of continuously being just one sigh apart from an orgasm.
Pain is so close to pleasure.

When the Repave was released, in 2013.,
I was not Vernon's fan because his work with Bon Iver felt too pretentious and poser-like
but Volcano Choir has completely thrilled me.
Today a friend reminded me of a recent listening through new Lambchop album
(The December-ish you is a fcukin masterpiece!),
and to remember Volcano Choir was just a tiny step forward.

Repave is growing old so nicely
and Comrade
my wonderful favorite
is lovely and lovelier than in 2013.

Everything in it is wonderful;
Auditory abundance
Vernon's jagged lyricism
Rhythm of coitus mixed with the context of military and of brotherhood...

                *             *             *
They say you ain't a comrade

Still, I'd know you'd come back

For a folly-ridden Romeo, you break down a fortress now Standing out in public Stained with your conscience



I know that you love me

You are just lawless, son