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Saturday, December 31, 2011

So This is The New Year...

And that wasn't a boring title. It was a reference to a great song by a great band named after yet another great song by yet another great band. I will link to that song at the end of this post.

I don't have any resolutions. At least, not yet. I like the idea of New Year's Resolutions because it's a tradition and a healthy one at that. And I like traditions. Not necessarily tradition, but traditions. I might work on getting some resolutions together, but probably not. :) It's like what I told Ash. Usually when I try to adopt that kind of attitude, it turns out like this:



In hindsight, it's been a pretty excellent year. I've grown a lot. Maybe not physically, but in other ways. Yeah, unfortunately, I haven't grown any taller in like a year or two. I'm not complaining, because I'm 5'10, but I doubt I'll ever achieve my dream of hitting six feet. Unless I get that surgery where they replace all the bones in my legs with bones from the legs of a horse like from Pushing Daisies. Damn, that was a great show. I don't know why they ever cancelled it.

A lot of stuff has happened. I changed so much. When I was in third grade, my image of myself in high school involved skateboarding, wearing sunglasses all the time, being a spy part-time, playing basketball and baseball on the Varsity team, and dating a girl who looked like my current celebrity crush at the time...Lizzie McGuire. I'd honestly just love to go back in time and announce to my past-self that, well, I'm in high school, and I've joined the musical, the school's literary magazine, have NEVER been skateboarding, listen to classical music, and have a poster of Albert Einstein in my room. Then I'd like to punch him in the face, for being such an annoying little fuck face.

I got my first ever pair of Converse All-Stars today. I know people say whoever wears them anymore is just a wannabe, but I just think they're awesome shoes. My feet have never felt so classy.

I'm sleeping in a tent tonight in my backyard. It was just a sort of impulsive thing, but it worked out, because I'll be able to listen to the fireworks while I'm drifting off to sleep.

Do any of you use DeviantArt? I wanna get one, so it would help if there were some people already on it who I knew who could help me get settled. Just like moving! Ha ha. I just made what's called an analogy.

I think that's about all I have to say. Expect a guest post soon from Kat, who wrote the last fantastic guest post that blew all your minds.

Oh wait! One more thing! Have all of you still been reading The Toble Chronicles and promoting it to your friends? If it doesn't start making some ground, it's going to shrivel up and die like Nicolas Cage's acting career. I poured two grand into this. So SHARE IT ON FACEBOOK. Or TWEET IT. Whatever the hell you people do nowadays. But I would be ever so grateful. And I would definitely make an effort to return the favor somehow. I'll do whatever you want. Wink. Wink. Wink. Whatever. You. Want. Wink. Nudge. Wink. Wink.

(I'll have sex with you.)

So I guess, Happy New Years Eve, huh? Looking forward to another great year. Just hoping the world doesn't end, huh? Heh heh. (Nervous laughter.)

HAPPY NEW YEARS EVE!!!!



Here's that great song I was talking about, by the BTW.

Au revoir!

-Christopher

Thursday, December 29, 2011

The Mystery Train: A Poem

The sunset’s last rosy fingerprints have disappeared from the heavens
And the moon hovers in the air, an unblinking eye
Pale silver clouds hang limply above the roofs of little houses
Clouds spun from some celestial spinning wheel
A dark tsunami of silence comes crashing over the earth
Yet the trees grow restless and arch
Their creaking spines

Through the silence come the faint, wheezing gasps
The fast, tinny breaths—the muffled roar
Of some ghostly locomotive, gliding through the night like
A creature in the darkest depths of the ocean
I can hear it stumble over the terrain on its screeching wheels
As I listen to its heavy, metallic respiration from
Beyond my bedroom window—while I lie in bed tasting
The first glowing dew drops of dreams
I wonder where this mystery train is heading
I ask myself where it has come from
Perhaps from some fantastic land with winged beasts
And whispering ghouls, towering cities
Sculpted from ice or rock or consisting
Of smoking factories, clanking machines that cough and spit
Cities filled with merchant spirits and
Cantankerous sorcerers and scholarly wolves
That wear spectacles and have tea at midday
I imagine it’s heading to a place even more extraordinary
Woven from the sparkling fabrics of my dreams
I lie in bed listening to its ethereal whistle, its bellowing horn
Marveling at the wonders of this
Mystery train

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Capitalism: A Poem

It grows like barnacles on the sides of wood ships
Gnawing and sucking with its cold, flabby lips
It is a rust that corrodes a metal once sleek
A bacteria that blackens a once-youthful cheek

It's a clanking machine that coughs and vomits oil
An unearthly worm that resides in the soil
In the daylight it gleams and flaunts its parts
But in the darkness it wheezes and feeds on men's hearts

It grows larger and larger like some mutant swine
Grunting and licking the meat from men's spines
It wraps its tentacles around the earth
Drinking its life with grotesque mirth

From death and despair this monster was built
Under its shadow, the world will deaden and wilt
Yet we cling onto it like infants, disgustingly reliant
On this foul, vampiric creature--this bloodthirsty giant

Friday, December 23, 2011

Merry Christmas, Kittens

I love Christmas Break. I really do.

You know, some high school students get out of school for the holidays and just sort of slump over like those fainting goats. Others take expensive trips and go skiing and wha wha wha wha. But I have a simple break, while at the same time a very productive one.

I wake up at 6 every morning and bike 15 miles to the nearest gym. I eat healthy, get exercise, write loads of poetry, and I speed read. Just in the past week I've already read Dante's Inferno, Milton's Paradise Lost, and a number of Shakespearean plays. I organize my room, then the rest of the house, and I garden. I feed the poor, pick up trash, and my smile ends wars. There's just no stopping me when I'm in my good, Christmas Break mood.

Then when school starts again I turn into a vegetable

But I'm enjoying myself. Like I said, we have a pretty simple Christmas. Right now I'm celebrating by eating a lot of mini-pretzels and listening to She&Him's fantastic Christmas album. Zooey Deschanel's rendition of "Silver Bells" is so pure it makes me blush.

I'm going to conclude this post with something that I'm sure will surprise none of you: a picture of a kitten in a Santa Claus hat.



Frohe Weihnachten!

-Christopher

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

My Superhero Alter-Ego

Okay, Lex, here it is: THE HEAD. Yep, that's his name. Just...The Head.



His body may seem small, and it is, but his head is large. And so is his heart. But also, his head is. And, in case you can't read, it possesses magical powers of sorcery.

So can I join the league now?

-Christopher

Monday, December 19, 2011

A Poem in Blank Verse and Iambic Tetrameter (In Case You Were Wondering)

Black holes form like stars in the air
The world spotted with unsightly
Unholy leprous blemishes
Drains away like cold bathwater
Heaven crashes through the glass clouds
And falls into oblivion

Monks chant whispered praises of God
The wealthy sink their marble teeth
Into the flesh of the lesser
Poets howl at the silent moon
Teachers teach and the singers sing
But at night all are wounded beasts

Raped by the deafening echoes
That deflect off the atmosphere
We wounded animals quiver
Whining against the icy ground
Begging—screaming for our mothers
Like orphans who dream of their past

The end is near—fresh on our breaths
We cling onto a sinking ship
Hurtling towards the cursed black sea
That flows around our island home
Monstrous eternity looms
Over we maggots of dust

One cannot hold onto moments
They dart away like beams of light
And life, sweet life, is fragile as
The tiny spine of a dead leaf
Fleeting, like the fall of rain drops
Destined to hit the rigid ground

So as our existence runs thin
We are dying sailors searching
With red eyes for some sign of land
Searching oh searching for some land
Searching, God help us, for some land
Searching, dear God, searching for land

Monday, December 12, 2011

Conclusions I Can Draw from Sad Movies and Old People

Today I watched Water for Elephants. I cried at the end.

I cry at some sad movies, but not all of them.

Why did I cry at this movie, for instance, rather than at Toy Story 3, which I expected myself to cry at, or during Seven Pounds, the saddest movie of all time?

I concluded that I cried because one of the elements in the movie was old people. Old people at the ends of sad movies always make me cry.

Why is that?

I think that, to me, it's because I have trouble coming to terms with the fact that one day I will be old.

Why does that bother me? Why does the thought of being old bother me?

I think that it's because being old means being closer to death, and above all I am having trouble coming to terms with the fact that I one day will die.

I'm scared of death. Not dying. Death.

Then again, I'm not sure which scares me more. The thought of disappearing into nonexistence to never emerge again. Or the thought of living forever. Eternity. What a terrible, terrible word.

It never ends. Although I guess that's the point.

Then again, maybe I just cried because this song was at the end:

I'm Coming Home

-Christopher

Newest Painting



I apologize for the shitty quality. I think the painting is decent, though. The assignment was just a modern art piece incorporating various media including something 3-D. All the blue and white forming a frame around the painting is folded up, painted strips of cardboard. The only other 3-D media I used was an empty CD to form the black circle in the upper right hand corner. I wanted to use something significant to me, like a Beatles CD, but who would let me ruin their Beatles CD like that? Ah well. I could always lie. What someone doesn't know won't hurt 'em.

Lisa Hannigan, Lille

Tchuss.

-Christopher

Friday, December 9, 2011

New Piano Pieces

I still haven't figured out how to load the videos directly onto my blog, so instead I'm going to post a link of each new piano video with a different one of the seven dwarves. Click on each one and you'll get a different piano piece! Isn't that cute?









"Come right here and sleep while I slip...poison in your ear..."

-Christopher

Saturday, December 3, 2011

The Mirror

He had come through the mirror. He could not speak, but I understood it the first time I met him. It was on a night when the moon hung so full and heavy in the sky that it looked as though if you pierced it with the tip of a pen, some icy, celestial water would come pouring out. As I lay pressed against my bed by the enormity of the night sky which peered at me through my window, I spotted his dark figure shivering from between the spindly trees of ink. Although it was black, it glimmered somehow, and the way he gazed at the sky above him intrigued me. I set out to meet him, slipping on my jacket and delving into the wintery night like a gray rain drop falling into a vast expanse of sea.

As I approached him, I saw that he was much taller than the average person. He was thin as well, and his skin was as white as snow, so that it looked as though he was woven from the moonlight. When I spoke, my voice sounded flat and muted in the presence of the whispering wind and the restless trees, and even I was not aware what I had said. He turned slowly to behold me, and looking upon him, I thought he must have been an angel. His eyes were black and glass-like, yet at the same time they resembled liquid. Looking into them was like gazing upon an entire Universe contained within a marble. He did not smile, but his face was gentle, calm and questioning, and his long, golden hair and silvery tunic billowed almost magically in the gentle breeze. He reached a long, thin hand toward me, making not a sound, and I embraced it. It was neither warm nor cold, and when I touched his fingers, melodic noises like piano keys sprinkled throughout the air. Then he smiled at me and returned his eyes to the night sky. I stood beside him for what might have been moments and what might have been years. Then we set off back to my home, and when he entered it, it was filled with an eerie, musical glow that danced upon the walls and ceiling. He strode swiftly and silently to an aged, noble mirror of mine mounted on a table in the hall, and together we stood before it, side by side, and acknowledged each other’s odd reflections. At that time, I understood that the mirror was where he had come from, and scarcely had this idea formed in my head before he reached a hand out to touch the mirror. The glass seemed to melt at his touch so that his hand slid easily through it, and after his hand had slid through it, the rest of his body followed. The mirror swelled and rippled, and the peaceful silence that proceeded seemed to murmur to me its quiet farewell. I hardly hesitated a moment before I plunged into the mirror after him.

I do not know how long I have lived in this new world, although sometimes it feels like a lifetime, but I do find it to be very strange and wonderful. The people here live in the sunset. They walk along the long, fiery wisps of cloud that stretch across the sky like strips of desert, and when you walk across the clouds, reds, oranges, yellows, pinks, and blues lap at your ankles like ocean waves. The people, who are all tall and pale—like my friend, carve their cities into the fiery evening sky, fashioning beautiful mansions and towering buildings that swirl and breathe like living things. Birds fly through the air like glimmering schools of fish, and small islands of cloud float peacefully just above your head or somewhere below your feet.

What would have been the ground arches far above our heads, forming a colossal, mountainous ceiling of solid green and brown. Hills and caverns and valleys and forests hang above our heads, just upside-down, so that the trees grow downward. People here look up at the ground and have wild dreams of somehow visiting it, imagining what fantastic creatures and extraordinary wonders must reside there.

They do not speak, these people, but somehow they do not need to. There is music, wonderful music, that seems to say everything for them. They are happy, I think, and why should they not be? What a fantastic idea, to live in the sunset. Sometimes, though, I glimpse my reflection in a pool of water or even in a mirror and I wonder whether I will ever go back. I do not know, after all, whether I will return, or if I even want to. But still, after all of this time, it is strange to stare at my peculiar reflection in the mirror and envision the many worlds that dwell from behind it. Strange to look into a mirror and to imagine all of those worlds, and to imagine visiting all of them. And I wonder: if I am living in this strange paradise in the sky—this mirror world, have I become the mirror me?

Sunday, November 20, 2011

A Post Involving Me Thinking Out Loud and Some Guy Named Demetri

As some of you may know, I'm in the process of ending my other blog, The Nerd Archives. It has had a long, full life. Now I think it's time that it burns to the fucking ground so I can parade around in its ashes and smear the fiery shreds of it across my bare chest.

I know this blog has been neglected for a while. It's gone through three name changes. I like this name. But I don't like this blog. I just deleted about 150 of my posts, because I read them and thought they were absolute monkey genitals. Honestly, it makes me sick to think that I wrote them.

I've kept the last few posts with some poetry and pictures that I'm okay with. But this blog still has a lot of bad connotations for me. A lot of bad juju. And I'm wondering if it would be best for me to get a whole new blogspot around the time when I end The Nerd Archives. Just to start afresh and stuff.

I'd lose all my followers, but I only have sixty anyway and I'm pretty sure not a single one of them still reads this blog. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who reads this blog anymore. And that's the thing. Getting a new blogspot would be me admitting that to myself. I could immerse myself in an entirely new blogging community, and I wouldn't have to be so caught up in whether or not people read it. I could just write and post and write and post and do whatever I want and no grownups can tell me when I have to go to bed.

I feel like I've changed so much just in the past few months or so. It's not even that a lot has happened, necessarily, although really it has. A lot happens every day. But I've only just started to become aware of that.

Also I'd probably be willing to post a lot more if I got a new blogspot. I don't know why. I just would.

I've been sort of convincing myself while writing this post and I think it's starting to sound pretty good.

Listening to the Dead. "The Ripple." That's some great shit. I've been listening to the song "Pumped-Up Kicks" by Foster the People for the past like 72 hours, so it makes a nice change. Although...now that I mention it, I kinda wanna go listen to that song again.

I'll get back to you later. Maybe.



I'm learning German. Ja.

-Christopher

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Oodles and Oodles of Doodles

And also, Dr. Dog.

But first, the oodles and oodles of doodles. First, here's a bunch of stuff I just drew in the margins of my homework during class or stuff.















Here are some paintings. The first one is a still life we did in the first week or two of class, and the second is my modern art piece.




(See if you can tell what some of the things in the still life are.)





Finally, here's an unfinished one from the Advanced Painting class. (I'm just in Painting 1). Their assignment was to use all of the pages of a book and incorporate it into their painting. The person in that class who's using my easel is using Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret by Judy Blume. But here's the one I want to show you. I'm not sure what book they're using.



Pretty amazing, huh? I'm not quite there yet in regards to school, of course. But you know. Baby steps.

So, anyway, I think I'm about done here. Sorry it's been so long since I've posted. My grandfather died a little over a week ago, and that's been hard. I'm flying out to Texas for the funeral tomorrow. So it might be a while until I post again as well.

November's Blog of Specialness, as it happens, is Party Poison vs. the World. It can be found on the top of the page. Go click on it. Go on. Shoo.

But now, it's time for Dr. Dog.

Keep a Friend

Shadow People

The Beach

Thank you and good night.

-Christopher

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

A Poem

Weighing the stars in one palm
The heavens burning the side of my face
Looking through that little window
It’s like the eye of some great
Sea monster

The aloneness comes crushing down on me
Like the Red Sea on the Egyptians
I stare out the window and expect to see
A blue sky—clouds—trees—
The sun

Somehow it’s claustrophobic there floating in
The very middle of black eternity
It’s suffocating to breathe this
Icy air recycled from
Star dust

When up and down are just a figment of your
Feverish imagination and it’s hard to think
Of which direction heaven is
Then you’ll really understand
That from
Dust you came.
And to dust
You shall return.



-Christopher

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Stranger Than Fiction: A Guest Post by Kat

Brief Biography: Kat is a lemon. She's also a friend of mine from school who was so kind to share this piece with me to put up on this blog. Her favorite color is all of them and her favorite word is "beezlebub."

I think we can all agree that for something to be “real,” is must be a part of reality in the waking world, a thing whose existence can be proven. With that in mind, I have two questions.

Question One: Is your left ear real?

Question Two: Is Harry Potter real?

Now, discounting the possibility that at some point in your life you’ve had an unfortunate accident with a stray tiger, or you have the ability to warp reality into a state which allows you to attend a previously fictional wizarding school, the answer to the first question was most likely “yes,” while the answer to the second was most likely “no.” Here’s where I prove you wrong with my insane troll logic, see?

First we’ll tackle the Harry-er problem. See what I did there? Boy, I crack myself sometimes.

For as long as I can remember, Harry Potter has been a part of my life. When I was too young to read the books myself, my parents read them to me. I saw every Harry Potter movie when it was in theaters. When I was ten, I remember growing increasingly desperate as my eleventh birthday approached. I still hadn’t gotten my letter from Hogwarts yet, informing me of my magical potential. I knew Harry Potter and his friends weren’t real, but a little part of my younger self, the final part that hadn’t been corrupted with logic, still wished that they were. I don’t remember much of what happened on my eleventh birthday- I think I can safely assume that I had a wonderful time- but I do remember that feeling of bitter disappointment. I wasn’t going to Hogwarts. I couldn’t do magic. (And I also didn’t get a cat, but that’s another issue entirely.)

I know so much about Harry; his likes, his dislikes, his whole life’s story. That’s why, one day, when I realized I had no idea who one of my classmates was, I had an epiphany. I had been sitting near this person for the entire year. I had been attending Woodward with this person for multiple years. But, despite all this, if you asked me to tell you something about this person, I couldn’t.

I know more about Harry Potter than I do about this very real person, whose homework I may or may not have copied at some point. Hundreds of millions of people around the world could tell you who Harry Potter is. How many people could say who this one completely average, completely real person is? Unless there’s some major world event I am completely out of the loop on, not nearly as many. Does this make Harry Potter more real than my classmate? Maybe it does.

Think of your favorite fictional character. It could be anyone from Han Solo to Haruhi Suzumiya, one of the guys from The Mighty Boosh to the mighty Kamina himself. What would you do if you saw them in real life? Hug them? Ask them for an autograph? Fall to your knees and worship them as a physical god? Think of all the real people that you pass everyday; how many of them would you do one of those things for? You’ve probably never even talked to most of them, nor could you, without the help of a time-turner.

But hold up. How does this make Harry Potter more real? Here’s where your ear gets to play.

I’m thinking about my left ear right now, and so should you. I am not touching it, but I know it’s there, because it exists. But how do I know it exists? Because it’s there?

What we have now is an example of petritio principii, also known as circular reasoning, a logical fallacy in which something is assumed to be true, but the proof for its truthfulness depends on that initial assumption. Think about this; people believe God exists because it’s written in the bible, but those same people believe in the bible because God wrote it. Granted, that’s immensely simplifying the biggest philosophical debate ever, but for a large number of people that is essentially true.

As long as you don’t touch it or look in a mirror, your left ear is in the exact same situation as God. Sure, it was there the last time you checked, but anything can happen in our universe of infinite possibilities. There’s no way you can know it’s still there, just like there’s no way you can know God exists. Atheists can deny the existence of your ear, and it will be just as valid as all their other arguments. Do you even know what your ear looks like? If I gave you a pencil, could you draw it? Okay, now you can touch it if you want, just to check, but keep in mind that the moment your finger moves away from it, we’re flung into the same debate all over again. Your ear is Schrödinger’s cat, the famous thought experiment, except in ear form. By extension, I suppose that means Schrödinger’s ear is also Schrodinger’s cat, which I believe is a different logical fallacy entirely.

But what about poor Harry? What about that guy you sit next to in class? The same situation as your ear, aren’t they? This would also work as an excellent pick up line, “Excuse me, Miss, can I grab those right quick to make sure you’re real?” She’ll probably smack you, you see, but if she’s a philosophy student and/or Harry Potter fan, there’s a chance you’ll hit it off.

So what do we perceive as real? That’s the very key; our perceptions. Your perception of the world’s concrete facts is what you accept as true. Essentially, everyone really does live in their own separate universes. That’s why we go to school; to literally broaden the scope of our little worlds with knowledge. In theory, Harry Potter could exist. Millions of people perceive him, in some form, making him real in their worlds. In theory, that person you see every day couldn’t exist. In theory, your ear could be God, Harry Potter, or not exist at all. In theory.

You see, theories are weird, and reality is stranger than fiction. Maybe this is why I don’t do to well in science.

* * *

That was Stranger than Fiction, by Kat, the lemon. I found it almost as hilarious as it was insightful, so I just thought I'd go ahead and share because I have such a big heart.

I'd also like to mention that while The Nerd Archives is indeed coming to the end of its relatively short but happy life, Death is like a lemon will continue to be in existence, like it or not. So that means you have to stay.

Finally, this month's Blog of Specialness is Left Alone With a Full Moon, and it can be found at the top of the page.



Monster Mask, by Pomplamoose

-Christopher

Sunday, October 9, 2011

From the Night Sky: A Short Piano Piece by Myself


video


Thank you and good night.


-Christopher

Friday, September 30, 2011

A Thought

When it comes to the end, I'd like to think that the Grateful Dead will be playing.



-Christopher

Saturday, September 10, 2011

17 Songs I'll Never Forget: The Soundtrack to My Life

1) The Call, by Regina Spektor. I first heard this song three years ago while visiting my aunt for the summer in San Angelo, Texas. She and my family went to see Prince Caspian in theaters. I had read the entire series over twice, so I couldn't wait to see the movie. As it turns out, I hated the movie, but they played this song by Regina Spektor when Susan kissed Prince Caspian, and I remember my heart stopping when I heard it. That was when I was first introduced to Regina Spektor, and my love for her music has only multiplied since then.



2) Eleanor Rigby, by the Bealtes. When I was little, my mom used to put on her Beatles records, and she, my brother, my sister, and I would dance around the room while listening to it. The first time I remember listening to the Beatles, though, was when I was in about fifth grade. My parents bought me my first iPod, and on it they downloaded a CD of classical music as well as a the Beatles CD 1. "Eleanor Rigby" was my favorite song on that CD. I probably listened to it a hundred times that year.



3) Dog Days Are Over, by Florence + the Machine. Just last year, there was this event at my school called "Experience the Arts Day." All of the visual art students sat outside of the school theater and drew or painted or sculpted. I was in the process of drawing what would later become the most notoriously bizarre piece of artwork of the day, when one of the school's dance classes came on to perform. This was their first dance. My twin brother and I were sitting right next to each other, and when this song came on, we both stopped drawing and looked straight at each other. After a few seconds of paralyzed amazement, we turned to look at the dancers. They were all absolutely beautiful. The dance was beautiful. And this song was unlike anything I had ever heard.



4) Perpetuum Mobile, by the Penguin Cafe Orchestra. This song was, coincidentally, from yet another dance concert. This one was my sister's dance class. I wasn't so taken with the dance itself this time, but this song was beyond belief. It was so beautiful. I also saw it shortly after in the claymation film Mary and Max, a very touching movie with this song repeating throughout much of its sountrack.



5) Ambling Alp, by Yeasayer. This song was suggested to me by a girl I really like who moved away. If anyone else had suggested it, I would have been instantly frightened away by its undeniable bizareness. But I instantly fell in love with it, and now every time I listen to it, I think of her.



6) Fanfare for the Common Man, by Aaron Copland. I first heard this song in music class in fourth or fifth grade. We were all sitting or lying on the hard wood floor, listening to the music that was playing on the stereo, taking notes on the emotions they aroused in us. When this song came on, I didn't write a single word down. I was transfixed.



7) The Hill, by Marketa Irglova. Any of you who have ever seen the award-winning film Once will know that it has the best movie soundtrack ever recorded--and all of it is original music. It was hard to choose just one track from this film, but I finally decided on this one, because as much as I love Glen Hansard, Irglova's solo voice accompanied by the piano here is just celestial.



8) Another Town, by Regina Spektor. While this isn't actually my favorite Regina Spektor song, I will always remember it for the beautiful, surreal refrain that appears three times in the song, where she sings "I love you" over and over again. The first time I heard this song, I loved it and listened to it again. Then again. And again. And again.



9) Le Festin, by Camille. I'm not ashamed to mention that this song is from the Ratatouille soundtrack. Ratatouille is one of my favorite movies of all time, and this song literally made the movie. Camille is an amazing singer. You wouldn't believe what things she can do with her voice. While I usually listen to her weirder music, I'll always remember this one because of the movie Ratatouille.



10) She's Leaving Home, by the Beatles. This isn't my favorite Beatles song. Sgt. Pepper's certainly isn't my favorite Beatles album. But it possesses a certain beauty which I think distinguishes it from pretty much any of the songs the Beatles has ever recorded. The harmonies they use during the refrain are just out of this world. I close my eyes every time I listen to it, so that all I can see is the music.



11) I Will Follow You Into the Dark, by Death Cab for Cutie. This is one of the few cases where the most popular song recorded by a band is actually my favorite song by them. This song is so beautiful to me. Both the message and the music. I went to see Death Cab for Cutie perform in Atlanta in August, and I thought I would die when Ben Gibbard played this song. And I did, a little bit. It's an amazing song.



12) Disney Girls, by the Beach Boys. You may laugh at me for this one, but I had no choice but to put it on this list. I went to see the Beach Boys just last night, (or what's left of them), and they were fantastic, even at seventy-years-old. The music was great, Bruce Johnston and Mike Love were hilarious, and when Bruce sang this song--which I had never heard before--everything stopped. The world stopped spinning. I don't know what it is about this song. But now it's my new favorite by the Beach Boys.



13) Credo, by Mark Hayes. My school choir performed this in Carnegie Hall in New York in sixth grade. We practiced for three hours every day in the week proceeding the concert, but I had the time of my life in New York. I remember singing Credo very well, because I loved the piano interlude that comes in somewhere around the beginning. (It comes in at 46 seconds in the YouTube video I just posted.) That's one of the reasons I learned to play the piano.



14) Karma Police, by Radiohead. I actually don't remember where it was that I first started listening to Radiohead, but this song is the one that really stands out to me. One of the main reasons I like Radiohead so much is because they have so many different faces. Anyway, I like this video too, especially the ending.



15) We Shall Overcome, by Pete Seeger. I'm an Episcopalian, and we sing this hymn at least once or twice a year at Church. It's a Civil Rights song, and I think it's just so powerful and profound. Pete Seeger sings a great version of it, and I like the fact that he has a bunch of people singing along. I tear up everytime we sing this at Church.



16) Don't You (Forget About Me), by the Simple Minds. The Breakfast Club is probably one of my favorite movies of all time, and this was undeniably the most memorable song from the soundtrack. I saw the movie first about four years ago, and I instantly fell in love with it. This song seems to sum up that whole movie for me, and it helps that I have had an undying obsession with the 1980's since I was 10-years-old.



17) Hoppipolla, by Sigur Ros. I discovered Sigur Ros a year or two ago. I intentionally put this song last on the list because this is the song I listen to whenever I feel going to bed and not getting up. Both the song and the video are probably the most touching, heart-warming pieces of music I have ever experienced.



If you're reading this post on 9/11, I hope you can take the time out of your day to say a prayer, write a poem, write a letter, or just do anything that shows that you care.

The Blog of Specialness for the month of September is Like a Tapir, which can be found on the top of the page. Swing by, say hi, and then come back here and read some more!

Au revoir,
Christopher

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

A Surefire Way to Get in a Good Mood

Sitting inside on a rainy day, with the fan turned up high even though it's already chilly, sipping on Diet Ginger Ale, listening to OK Computer, and typing a poem on a borrowed typewriter.

It makes you feel...

Infinite.

A line I definitely did NOT borrow from The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

For those of you who don't read The Nerd Archives, here are some sketches I did a while back which I'm only posting now on Death Is Like a Lemon because I've realised that I haven't posted any of my art here for several months.







Thank you and good night.

-Christopher

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

A Poem and an Aardvark

Where It Leads

I’m hiding the Universe in one eye
To keep the ghosts away
But I stowed the sun in a diamond ring
To wash away the gray

This morning I saw a bicyclist
In black trench coat and top hat
I chased him and begged to hear his name
But then he turned into a bat

I took a swim in the midnight sky
But found it far too cold
I shook off the sparkling stars
And found my skin was shining gold

At dawn I thought I saw a face
In the swirling, cloudy sky
But then it melted away and
I cried and waved goodbye

Just today I met a tree
That claimed it had a soul
I stared and thought and wondered
Then I fell up the rabbit hole



Ha det bra,
Christopher

Saturday, August 27, 2011

I Get These Headaches

These awful fucking headaches.

Sometimes I have a dream that I'm in a barren, gray field and that I start running. As I'm running, lightning bolts begin to strike my head over and over again, and pain surges through it. After the storm stops, I lie on the ground and cringe, as every time I move my head, bolts of pain run through it.

When I wake up, I beg God to make the pain go away. I'll do anything at all if you just make the pain go away. Please. I'll do anything.

Then I go to sleep, and it's like I've just died. It's the end. It's all over.

And then I wake up, and it's like I've been reborn. And the world smells fresh again.

Those awful fucking headaches.

-Christopher

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Stories from a Night of Dreams: Day 5

Jumping Off

I watched as the man plummeted from the
Top of the building, under the silent
Watch of the pensive full moon
His coat flapping furiously in the wind
He looked just like a leaf falling from a tree
I couldn’t see his face but I imagine he
Closed his eyes as he was
Swallowed by the silky darkness
Plunging into the depths of
Some other world.

-Christopher

Monday, August 22, 2011

Stories from a Night of Dreams: Day 4

The Mirror

I stood looking at myself in the mirror this morning
Tracing my eyes over the skeletal face staring back at me
With such a curious expression on his face
After a while I reached out a hand and pushed it through
I just couldn’t help myself
I passed through it like liquid, exchanging places
With my bemused, lamp-lit, mirror self
I turned away from it and walked into
The world behind the mirror.

-Christopher

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Stories from a Night of Dreams: Day 3

Where the Ghosts Come to Dance

Music fills every hall, every room
The chandeliers sparkle with little flames
Laughter ripples in pockets of air
Voices float upward and stain the ceiling
The quiet tinkling of champagne glasses
Hovers in the halls like mist
I’m dressed in my best suit
Smiling and enjoying this fine party
Although there is not a soul in sight
And although the house is empty
Except for me and the piano music
And the tinkling of champagne glasses
You see, this is the house where
The ghosts come to dance.

-Christopher

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Stories from a Night of Dreams: Day 2

The Elevator

Alone in an elevator
I sit on the cold floor that is
Cast in an icy blue light
Avoiding the stare of the
Stainless steel doors
I have already tried
The emergency escape hatch
I stuck my head out only to
Find myself gazing at an
Eternity of dark nothingness
That continued to infinity
I went back inside and
Closed the hatch
Safe in this island but still
Alone in an elevator.

-Christopher

Friday, August 19, 2011

Stories from a Night of Dreams: Day 1

Man on the Roof

Gliding through the woodland trees
Blurred by the milky sunlight
I chase a figure that flickers and darts
Around the winding trail
He leads me to a house with an
Orange-red roof and pale windows
I almost think I’ve lost him but
Then I see him standing there by the chimney
On that orange-red roof
Smiling before the fiery sun
I look up at him and think that
He wants me to follow.

-Christopher

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

My Castle in a Tree

As the sweet rain smears the watercolor world
And the beams of sunshine are stirred into it
As the trees ripple and splash around me
And my knees melt into the ground
The enormous trunk looms before me
My castle in a tree

Roots run in muscular veins down the mammoth redwood
They are the perfect staircase for me to ascend
As my swollen tears float off to space
The castle doors open to greet me
And my face is bathed in lamplight from within
My castle in a tree

The walls breathe a sigh of welcome
Flames leap onto every white wax candle
I take off my sandals so that my ancient feet
Warm the polished wooden floor
The world, it shivers before me in
My castle in a tree

The leaves, they let the sunlight in
But guard me from the things that lurk
Just beyond the edge of the earth
So that he can’t see me
And there aren't any memories

My castle in a tree

At once it evaporates into the golden sky
My hands and legs enflame before me
All the world is drowned in blackness and
Leaves not a single silver bubble
This is the death, the murder of
My castle in a tree



This MONTH'S Blog of Specialness is Beauty Like a Kaleidoscope. Which I hope I spelled right. Also, you may have noticed that I am altering the Blog of Specialness from a fortnight to a month. This is for two reasons. 1) This blog is dying and I can't be bothered to post a new Blog of Specialness every two weeks. 2) I really love this new blog and I want everyone to check it out or else they get a whooping.

I've been listening to the song Shine On by JET a lot because it makes me think of a certain person who I really miss. Well, is it possible to miss someone you never really knew? If so, then yes, I miss them. If not, then no, I do not miss them.

Simple as that.

Lebewohl,
Christopher

Friday, August 5, 2011

Will

Will's my friend and that's for sure
He's the nicest guy I know
He's really fun and really nice
Will is as perfect as friends go

He's got dark dark eyes and white white skin
And a messy head of hair
Will is skinny as a stick
But always hungry as a bear

Will never ever moves a muscle
I've never seen him blink
He just likes to sit and smile
Stare ahead and think

Will is my best ever friend
Yes, he's as perfect as friends go
Will is my friend--he's been my friend
Since he died a year ago.



-Christopher

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Well, Life

Life is so confusing, you know. Here we are, trapped on this little rock of a planet in a Universe that is larger than we can possibly imagine. All alone.


We ask ourselves the question, why are we here?

What's the point?

What's the meaning behind life?

And it's so easy to answer that there is no point. That there is no meaning.

And maybe that's true.

But life is so beautiful. What we have, here on earth, is so beautiful. And if we keep asking ourselves that question over and over again, we might just miss it.

So why ask?



-Christopher

Friday, July 22, 2011

Observations of a North Carolina Lake: A Poem Series

Early evening:

A sailboat drifts across the lake
Like a solitary puff of cloud
It cuts through ripples in the water that are
Like a million tiny sand dunes
As it floats under the peaceful blue sky so it looks just
Like a painting

4 o'clock or so

Red ants scale my feet, which must looks like mountains
As they rest against the warm, coffee-colored boat dock
The lake moves in a thousand directions
Yet somehow it is still

Half an hour later

An idle motor boat slides by me
Not thirty yards away
A party of angelic aristocrats sit inside
And chuckle at some tasteless joke
But a girl, clad in black, sits
On the boat's nose, in the sunlight
She's in her late teens, with sandy hair
Flying behind her like a flame in the wind
I see the sky reflect in her eyes
And I want to wave, shout, swim after her
But I also know that I fall in love with every girl I see
Sitting on the nose of a boat in the sunlight
And it strikes me as I watch her
That she's probably a bitch

Around 6 o'clock

As my skin breathes the cool air
The water tickles my feet
I sit on the rocks on the lakeside
And look into the sky
Where the clouds tell stories

Before Breakfast

Wiping the silver orbs of sleep from my eyes
I suck the dew drops off my lips
And steal a glance at the lake through the window
It's been singing while I slept, you know
And drinking in the quiet whispers of my dreams

Morning Swim

We leap off the boat dock like birds
And shatter against the lake like ice sculptures
I look up at the sky and smile as I see
Where the strawberry lips of dawn
Kissed the faintly yellow sky
Swimming is so wonderful
Strange to think that you can stand up
Without your feet touching the ground
Although I imagine that that's the case
More often than we think

The Lake at Noon

The risen sun burns holes into the lake
And the solid wall of trees bend over
To look at their smoky reflections in the water
There's a whole world to be found behind a mirror
And there is one beneath the lake surface as well

Evening Swim

The setting sun sets off fireworks in the sky
Oceans of color above our heads
The lamps ignite on the lake side
And locusts screech their melodies
Red, orange, and purple waves lap at our skin
My brother says it feels just like
Swimming in the sunset

An Hour Before Noon

The air rustles like dry leaves
As we wade into the hot, shallow water
Where the lake is golden
Sand settles on top of our feet
So that our legs look like ancient statues

After a Storm

The rain has found cracks to settle into
And sunlight peeks through the clouds
The cool, moist air has suddenly become self-conscious
And everything feels so much more real
Richer and fuller and healthier
Looking at the mountains kneeling in the distance
Almost like gods
And hearing the slap of the lake against the bank
I can't help but
Feel infinite

Midnight Swim

You and I plunge into the black water
And it's as though we're swimming in the night sky
Fragments of stars glinting on the surface
We are both the sun and the rings of ripples around us
Are the maps of our orbit
The tiny glass bubbles floating on them
Are the atmospheres of little planets
As you glide over to me like a shooting star, smiling
Your pale body so ghostly under the water
As you kiss me, floating there in the night sky
I know that I am where I'm supposed to be



This fortnight's Blog of Specialness would have to be Lemons Don't Make Lemonade which can be found, as usual, on the top of the page. It's delightfully lewd, and I think you'll find it amusing. I can only hope to one day grow up to be like her.

Massaging my temples,
Christopher

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Some thoughts on the mindset of the human race...

After spending several weeks reading the works of Friedrich Nietsczhe, and after observing the world around me on a park bench while smoking Parliaments, I came to ask myself the question, what gave human beings the idea that they are the rulers of the Universe?

How did they come to adopt this massive ego? What makes them think that they are superior to all animals on the planet? That they belong in a different category from the other creatures of this earth? What makes us think we have the right to pump chemicals into the earth and burn holes in the ozone? Why are we under the impression that the world revolves around us? So those are all of the questions I've been wondering about. And I came up with this answer:

The toilet. And indoor plumbing.



I'm going to be gone for the next week to stay at the lake house of one of my dad's friends. I'm going to go ahead and keep Stars and Boulevards as this fortnight's Blog of Specialness. But remember to come back and check up on me! Keep posted! Don't leave me to die here. Please.

Trying to figure out what the word "voluptuary" means,
Christopher