For graduation I got new shoes, oatmeal cookies, and a digital camera. Today I look like this:
I visited Fargo this past week in pity-preparation for ureteroscopic surgery to remove my kidney stone. All those hugs from family and friends must have jarred it loose, because I passed it through my system Saturday night making unnecessary the operation and allowing me to see Dredg last night. They were excellent as always (someday, I promise, you will come to Minneapolis, and everyone will dance for you).
I meant to take pictures of my stone but forgot. It’s now being analyzed to learn why I form them, and I say “them” because I have more—they’re very small, but they’re still freakin’ stones, and they’re still inside my body.
While at home, I visited the Pits. And they’re gone. Demolished. Bulldozed into a mountain of jagged rubble surrounded by piles of torn up trees. I am indescribably saddened by this discovery. I’m sorry for those who never made it out there, especially the ones I promised a tour.
The above was my favorite slogan there, nonsensical-pieced-together but still giving meaning and now more true than ever. The photograph is on the wall near my computer, and we watch each other a lot.
On Tuesday I picked up Radiohead’s new album Hail to the Thief. Last summer I snagged several of the songs as mp3s from live dates they performed in Europe. So I was familiar. Or so I thought, but the lyrics are not what I thought I was hearing, and when are they? when listening to the more fascinating musicians.
I seem to have this… problem? try phenomenon, try opportunity, with Radiohead often, and I’ve decided to stop looking up Thom’s lyrics. What I hear is more interesting.
As for the “real meaning of the texts” and what the person meant, whatever. The duty of an author artist songwriter is to create a space for interpretation, and the only thing they should intend is to move their audience. And so. I will continue hearing I’m tired I’m tired I’m tired / divide those little children / there’s a devil in between, there’s a devil in me… where I end and you begin because that’s what pushes me around, and that is the beauty of art.
Hail to the Thief, indeed.