I had forgotten about this song. But it came around on a random play on my music player.
I blogged it a few years ago (um, 7?). However, the video there has disappeared – “link rot.” I couldn’t find an official version, but here’s a performance of the song from the Korean TV show “쇼미더머니” which is a musical competition for amateurs where they perform famous musical bits. I decided to do a rare “re-posting” of some music rather than go back and repair the old blog entry.
배치기, “콩깍지.”
가사.
B.A.E.C.H.I.G.I 이제 나왔으니
모두 친구들에게 전하기
하던 일들 전부 stop 모두 집중 여기 spot
들어볼까 기묘한 그 이야기
뭉탁!
탁>
그 꼬라지로 나와 너네가 얼마나 버티겠냐고
그냥 하던 대로 가라고
가만히 서서 중간이라도 가는 게
두말하면 입 아프다라고 말하는데
배치기 배엔 기름이 꼈네
믿음 따윈 져버리고 지네끼리 건배
그리고 나선 도망가네 조만간에 절망감이란
포만감으로 휩싸여야 정신 차리겠네
무웅>
어떤 인간들은 내게 말하겠지
너 얼마나 잘되나 두고 보자고
완전히 Reset 된 배치기
이제 누가 아냐고 물어보라고
그나마 누렸던 인기의 맛만
본걸로 만족해 알잖아 만만
치 않은 이곳에 이미 한물간
니들이 발 붙일 곳 없을 거라고
무웅>
이거 정말 난리나 버렸지
아무런 생각 없이 전부 내쳐 버렸지
모든 게 다 뒤바뀌어 버렸지
배치기 인생살이 제 눈에 낀 콩깍지
무웅>
뜻대로 되지만은 않을 거다
그러다가 망한 애들 여럿 봤다
새로운 변화에 신이 났겠지만
장담하건대 넌 예전이 낫다
제풀에 꺽일 네 모습이 선해
반전은 기대마 알잖아 뻔해
더 신 나게 떠들어라 웃고는 있지만
초조함 숨기려 내 맘은 탄다
탁>
겁을 먹었냐고 천만의 말씀
거품 빼고 우리만의 길을 가고픈 것뿐
당차게 박차고 나와서
난 바로 이 네 박자에 몸을 실었음
내 길에 내기를 걸어봐라
내 미래엔 배짱부리며 배 내미네 째봐라 그래
내가 쓰러지나 봐라 부러지나 봐라
날이 지나 봐라 끝내 누가 남았나
이거 정말 난리나 버렸지
아무런 생각 없이 전부 내쳐 버렸지
모든 게 다 뒤바뀌어 버렸지
배치기 인생살이 제 눈에 낀 콩깍지
B.A.E.C.H.I.G.I 이제 나왔으니
모두 친구들에게 전하기
하던 일들 전부 stop 모두 집중 여기 spot
들어볼까 기묘한 그 이야기
탁>
서로 머리 맞대면서 많은 날을 고민했지
배부르면 봄날이냐고
까놓고 말해보자 우리들의 전성기는
언제부터 언제였냐고
몇 번의 박수로 우쭐거리며
살아나간 지난날의 우릴 반성하자고
죽이 되든 밥이 되든 피래미 시절
기억하며 아둥바둥 살아보자고
이거 정말 난리나 버렸지
아무런 생각 없이 전부 내쳐 버렸지
모든 게 다 뒤바뀌어 버렸지
배치기 인생살이 제 눈에 낀 콩깍지 예
This poem, below, was not written by a human being, as best I understand. It was written by one of those new “learning algorithm” AIs (Artificial Intelligences), where you give the AI a large pile of “training data” (i.e. in this case, a vast corpus of human-written poetry) and then say, more or less, “OK, give me a new one like that.” It works similarly to the way google-translate manages to make sense out of changing one language to another, without actually understanding a damn thing. It’s statistics, writ large.
Methinks I see her in her blissful dreams:
Or, fancy-like, in some mirage she lies,
Majestic yet majestic, and of seems
The image of the unconquerable skies.
Methinks I see her in her blissful dreams:
—Or, fancy-like, in some majestic cell,
Where lordly seraphs strew their balmy dreams
On the still night, or in their golden shell.
There, in the calm of some Platonic dream,
Sits she, and views the unclouded moon arise
Like a fair lady full of realms divine;
And, all at once, a stony face and bright
Glittering in moonlight, like the noon-tints of a night.
Two musical threads of my life have finally been knit together in an unexpected way. I found this entertaining, two ways to Tuesday.
What I’m listening to right now.
Merle Hazard, “Ol’ Atonal Music.”
Lyrics.
I dedicate this song to my father.
My dad was a composer,
Modern was his style.
His music always made you think,
It never made you smile.
He wrote for chamber orchestra,
Now and then, for voice
Tonality, in Daddy’s world, was just another choice.
Yeah, Poppa’s compositions came in rigid, twelve-tone rows,
There was no tonal center to the music he’d compose.
He was a lover of complexity;
Some have said pretense.
His music wasn’t joyful,
It was just abstract and dense.
Gimme some of that ol’ atonal music.
It lingers in my ears!
Schoenberg and Alban Berg were the genre’s pioneers.
You can keep yoru Bach and Chopin,
They’re melodic and passe.
Gimme some of that ol’ atonal music,
Like Daddy used to play.
Give ’em some, Alison!
[Banjo solo]
Aha!
That’s right.
Since dear ol’ Daddy left us,
Life has been so hard.
There aren’t enough musicians
Who embrace the avant-garde.
No one plays atonally at their home or on the stage.
I miss Igor Stravinsky, my Dad, and ol’ John Cage.
[“Piano solo”]
Gimme some of that ol’ atonal music.
Like my Daddy used to write.
It was hard sing if you rehearsed,
Impossible by sight.
Emotion is for simple folk.
Art should be arcane.
Some compositions feed the heart;
My Daddy’s fed the brain.
Gimme some of that ol’ atonal music.
How I love those random hops!
I’ve tried to write that way myself,
But I’m not as skilled as Pops.
You can keep your Brahms and Chopin,
They’re melodic and passe
Gimme some of that ol’ atonal music,
Like Daddy used to play.
Like Daddy used to play.
Like Daddy used to play.
PIEDRA
Lo que dice la piedra
sólo la noche puede descifrarlo
Nos mira con su cuerpo todo de ojos
Con su inmovilidad nos desafía
Sabe implacablemente ser permanencia
Ella es el mundo que otros desgarramos
– José Emilio Pacheco (poeta mexicano, 1939-2014) [daily log: walking, 3km]
Occupation
The soldiers are
hard at work,
building a house.
They hammer
bodies into the earth
like nails,
they paint the walls
with blood.
Inside, the doors
are locked, shut
like eyes of stone.
And the stairs
are icy, all flights
go down.
There is no floor,
only a roof,
where ash is falling —
dark snow,
a human snow,
thickly, blackly
falling.
Come, they say.
This house will
last forever.
You shall occupy it.
And you, and you —
Come, they say.
There is room
for everyone.
– Suji Kwock Kim (American poet, b 1969) [daily log: walking, 4km; driving, 500km]
EL INVENTOR DE LAS METÁFORAS…
El inventor de las metáforas
se parece al duende de los gatos
metiéndose a media noche
por la boca abierta de los niños
para fabricar sus sueños con pesadillas.
El inventor de las metáforas
saborea con su lengua pegajosa
cada llanto infantil
arañando las sábanas.
Y los niños sudorosos
se abrazan a la almohada
e intentan descifrar
la forma de su angustia.
El inventor de las metáforas
siembra una semilla venenosa
que germina en poema
o agoniza en locura después de muchos años.
– Ana Merino (poeta española, n. 1971) [daily log: walking, 2.5km]
보이콜드, “Youth!” This song is the most completely, fully bilingual bit of Khiphop (Korean hip hop) that I’ve run across. Completely at ease in both languages, with constant code-switching.
가사.
Yeah, alright, I’ll go…
I’m trynna keep it fresh like
헤엄치는 lil fish life
바다엔 없지 no finish line
구르다가 이제야 나 쉬는 time
그림을 그리려 해
어두운 도화지 위에
when I draw some milky way
아른대지 이리저리
어지러운 팔레트 위에
봐 무슨 일이 벌어지는지
따라 하진 말아 거울 보듯이
사랑하면 사랑을 줘야지
다 너인 듯이 대해줘 please
왜냐 finally 만물이
너와 같다는 걸 알게 될 터이니
we livin’ livin’ but ain’t dead fool
보았던 거니까 like dejavu
삶이란 건 쩔어 있기 너무 쉬워
눈 풀어 버리고 다시 함
swerve
썼던 거 꺼내서 다시 써
다시금 씹어 줬으면 해서
성원이 형처럼
boy and cold
내 목 풀어야해 또
on and on
큼큼 아아 음음 음음
let’s get it on
alright 몰라
that’s fine 정말
good life good life
높아 진짜
livin my life we’ll be so fine
tv sofa on my life
얼마 안남았지
전국에 발자국 마킹
옆엔 섭이 파피
toys-r-us 쓸어 담지
내 인생 life so flip
탈출했지 찐찌
rich kid like i’m franky
ocean
눈치보던 나를 모셔
이젠 보여 내 몸 보석
내 친구들 모여 light it up
hive so high 내 사비로
다 쏠게 있는 일 다 미뤄
질투 시샘들은 다 뒤로
이젠 살지 않아 간 보며
living good times like 팔로형
좋은 일밖에 난 안보여
계속 난 달리지 만보 yuh
imma go do that right
바뀌지 switching side
imma go do that right
바뀌지 switching side
여전해 한 손에는 글라스에
만드네 좋은 track
boycold가 callin 해
공을 채워 통장에
계속 ballin 해
alright 몰라
that’s fine 정말
good life good life
높아 진짜
livin my life we’ll be so fine
tv sofa on my life
boy cold boycold on a beat
쩌는게 들리는데 넌 어디
내 인천 동생 성원이와
퍼즐 히트 칠 땐 넘 어렸지
친구들과 다른 길을 걸었지
보란 듯이 증명해 버렸지
목표에 닿긴 아직 멀었지
헛되 보이는 꿈을 꾸자 철없이
꿈은 이뤄져
근데 왜 친구는 잃어져
요즘은 이런 일이 잦고 잘 지내냐는
질문은 싫어졌다가도
다시 듣고 싶어져
뻔한 물음이어도
구름이 어둡게 해도
그저 어린 내가 나는 좋대도
오늘이 내 남은 날의 첫day고
부디 넌 내 목소릴 기억해줘
삶이란 건 너무 엄청나
허나 고생은 다 거쳐가
그래서 축복이 넘쳐나지 우린
하늘이 될 거야 거처가
that’s right goes
around comes around
축복하며 살자 하온아 성원아
성원하자 모두 서로가 서로와
잊어버려 지나가버린
summer night
alright 몰라
that’s fine 정말
good life good life
높아 진짜
livin my life we’ll be so fine
tv sofa on my life
She Walketh Veiled and Sleeping
She walketh veiled and sleeping,
For she knoweth not her power;
She obeyeth but the pleading
Of her heart, and the high leading
Of her soul, unto this hour.
Slow advancing, halting, creeping,
Comes the Woman to the hour!—
She walketh veiled and sleeping,
For she knoweth not her power.
– Charlotte Perkins Gilman (American poet, 1860-1935) [daily log: walking, 4km]
Thou silver deity of secret night, Direct my footsteps through the woodland shade; Thou conscious witness of unknown delight, The Lover’s guardian, and the Muse’s aid! By thy pale beams I solitary rove, To thee my tender grief confide; Serenely sweet you gild the silent grove, My friend, my goddess, and my guide. E’en thee, fair queen, from thy amazing height, The charms of young Endymion drew; Veil’d with the mantle of concealing night; With all thy greatness and thy coldness too.
Finaliza septiembre. Es hora de decirte lo difícil que ha sido no morir.
Por ejemplo, esta tarde tengo en las manos grises libros hermosos que no entiendo, no podría cantar aunque ha cesado ya la lluvia y me cae sin motivo el recuerdo del primer perro a quien amé cuando niño.
Desde ayer que te fuiste hay humedad y frío hasta en la música. Cuando yo muera, sólo recordarán mi júbilo matutino y palpable, mi bandera sin derecho a cansarse, la concreta verdad que repartí desde el fuego, el puño que hice unánime con el clamor de piedra que exigió la esperanza.
Hace frío sin ti. Cuando yo muera, cuando yo muera dirán con buenas intenciones que no supe llorar. Ahora llueve de nuevo. Nunca ha sido tan tarde a las siete menos cuarto como hoy.
Throw away thy rod,
Throw away thy wrath:
O my God,
Take the gentle path.
For my heart’s desire
Unto thine is bent:
I aspire
To a full consent.
Not a word or look
I affect to own,
But by book,
And thy book alone.
Though I fail, I weep:
Though I halt in pace,
Yet I creep
To the throne of grace.
Then let wrath remove;
Love will do the deed:
For with love
Stony hearts will bleed.
Love is swift of foot;
Love’s a man of war,
And can shoot,
And can hit from far.
Who can ’scape his bow?
That which wrought on thee,
Brought thee low,
Needs must work on me.
Throw away thy rod;
Though man frailties hath,
Thou art God:
Throw away thy wrath.
- George Herbert (English poet, 1593-1633)
Marcho día y noche como un parque desolado. Marcho día y noche entre esfinges caídas de mis ojos; miro el cielo y su hierba que aprende a cantar; miro el campo herido a grandes gritos, y el sol en medio del viento.
Acaricio mi sombrero lleno de luz especial; paso la mano sobre el lomo del viento; los vientos, que pasan como las semanas; los vientos y las luces con gestos de fruta y sed de sangre; las luces, que pasan como los meses; cuando la noche se apoya sobre las casas, y el perfume de los claveles gira en torno de su eje.
Tomo asiento, como el canto de los pájaros; es la fatiga lejana y la neblina; caigo como el viento sobre la luz.
Caigo sobre mi alma. He ahí el pájaro de los milagros; he ahí los tatuajes de mi castillo; he ahí mis plumas sobre el mar, que grita adiós.
Caigo de mi alma. Y me rompo en pedazos de alma sobre el invierno; caigo del viento sobre la luz; caigo de la paloma sobre el viento.
That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by-and-by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by. This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
Being in the US again is weird, sometimes. I have a bit of reverse culture shock. Seeing US television and flipping through radio stations as I drive my rental car can be slightly disorienting.
This song was on a radio station as a I drove around Eagan, today. It's a song one of my students found and prepared for one of my "CC" classes, at Karma. Is it possible to feel nostalgic even though I'm only two weeks removed from being there?
What I'm listening to right now.
Taylor Swift, "Delicate."
Lyrics.
This ain't for the best My reputation's never been worse, so You must like me for me We can't make Any promises now, can we, babe? But you can make me a drink Dive bar on the East Side, where you at? Phone lights up my nightstand in the black Come here, you can meet me in the back Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you Oh damn, never seen that color blue Just think of the fun things we could do 'Cause I like you This ain't for the best My reputation's never been worse, so You must like me for me Yeah, I want you We can't make Any promises now, can we, babe? But you can make me a drink Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) Is it cool that I said all that Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Delicate Third floor on the West Side, me and you Handsome, your mansion with a view Do the girls back home touch you like I do? Long night, with your hands up in my hair Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share 'Cause I like you This ain't for the best My reputation's never been worse, so You must like me for me Yeah, I want you We can't make Any promises now, can we, babe? But you can make me a drink Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) Is it cool that I said all that Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it? Delicate Sometimes I wonder when you sleep Are you ever dreaming of me? Sometimes when I look into your eyes I pretend you're mine, all the damn time 'Cause I like you Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) Yeah, I want you Is it cool that I said all that Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) 'Cause I like you Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate (delicate) Yeah, I want you Is it cool that I said all that Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate Delicate
[daily log: walking, 2km; moving stuff around, a lot]
Me registro los bolsillos desiertos para saber dónde fueron aquellos sueños. Invado las estancias vacías para recoger mis palabras tan lejanamente idas. Saqueo aparadores antiguos, viejos zapatos, amarillentas fotografías tiernas, estilográficas desusadas y textos desgajados del Bachillerato, pero nadie me dice quién fui yo.
Aquellas canciones que tanto amaba no me explican dónde fueron mis minutos, y aunque torturo los espejos con peinados de quince años, con miradas podridas de cinco años o quizá de muerto, nadie, nadie me dice dónde estuvo mi voz ni de qué sirvió mi fuerte sombra mía esculpida en presurosos desayunos, en jolgorios de aulas y pelotas de trapo, mientras los otoños sedimentaban de pálidas sangres las bodegas del Ebro.
¿En qué escondidos armarios guardan los subterráneos ángeles nuestros restos de nieve nocturna atormentada? ¿Por qué vertientes terribles se despeñan los corazones de los viejos relojes parados? ¿Dónde encontraremos todo aquello que éramos en las tardes de los sábados, cuando el violento secreto de la Vida era tan sólo una dulce campana enamorada? Pues yo registro los bolsillos desiertos y no encuentro ni un solo minuto mío, ni una sola mirada en los espejos que me diga quién fui yo.
– Miguel Labordeta (poeta español, 1921-1969)
[daily log: walking, 7.5km; carrying heavy box to post office, 0.5km]
This heartwarming little video appeared in my facebook feed the other day (h/t my own dad – heh). Given that I'm recently returned to facebookland, despite ambivalences, right?
I was curious about the song's provenance, because it seemed a good, positive song for my CC classes at Karma. So I did some google-fu, and found it.
What I'm listening to right now.
Matisyahu, "One Day."
Lyrics.
Sometimes I lay Under the moon And thank God I'm breathing Then I pray Don't take me soon 'Cause I am here for a reason
Sometimes in my tears I drown But I never let it get me down So when negativity surrounds I know some day it'll all turn around
Because All my life I've been waiting for I've been praying for For the people to say That we don't wanna fight no more There will be no more wars And our children will play One day (one day), One day (one day) One day (one day), One day (one day) One day (one day), One day (one day)
It's not about Win or lose 'Cause we all lose When they feed on the souls of the innocent Blood-drenched pavement Keep on moving though the waters stay raging
In this maze you can lose your way (your way) It might drive you crazy but don't let it faze you, no way (no way)
Sometimes in my tears I drown But I never let it get me down So when negativity surrounds I know some day it'll all turn around
Because All my life I've been waiting for I've been praying for For the people to say That we don't wanna fight no more They'll be no more wars And our children will play One day (one day), One day (one day) One day (one day), One day (one day) One day (one day), One day (one day)
One day this all will change Treat people the same Stop with the violence Down with the hate One day we'll all be free And proud to be Under the same sun Singing songs of freedom like
One day (one day), One day (one day) One day (one day), One day (one day)
All my life I've been waiting for I've been praying for For the people to say That we don't wanna fight no more They'll be no more wars And our children will play One day (one day), One day (one day) One day (one day), One day (one day) One day (one day), One day (one day)
[daily log: walking, 7.5km; carrying heavy box to post office, 0.5km]
As mentioned before, we have this thing at Karma called "CC" class – a somewhat opaque name for what are essentially focused listening exercises using English-language pop songs. Mostly, these days, I can proudly say that my initiative to have the students prepare and present their own choices of songs has gone quite well, and 90% of the time, the students do their homework and they lead the class. I love sitting in a class where the students are leading, and even using English fairly successfully to manage the class.
But sometimes a student forgets his or her homework, or some miscommunication causes there not to be a prepared song for a given class. So I have some "backup" songs prepared. One of the "CC" songs that I've been using for this is "Whatever It Takes," by the group Imagine Dragons. Like many of the CC pop songs, I was fairly neutral about the song at first, but with repeated careful listenings and presentations of the song, it's grown on me.
Last Saturday, I presented the song to my HS2-T cohort, because they were returning from their month-long "naesin" hiatus and the song that the student had prepared was one it turned out we'd done before. As usual, I was deeply impressed with these students' amazing listening skills, quickly identifying missing words in the Cloze passage of the song that even I struggled to hear. So we made our way through the song.
As we wrapped up the class, I told the students that I'd grown to like the song.
One of the girls asked, "Why do you like it?"
In fact, I couldn't think of a reason. But I always have to say something, right? That's what I'm known for, and that's my reputation: Jared always has some opinion on anything, and he'll present his reasons in little coherent, organized paragraphs, like a good debate teacher should, right?
So I had to think fast on my feet. Offhandedly, I said, "Because the song has lots of long words in it." This is more or less true. It does have some unexpectedly sesquipedalian vocabulary, which the singer rattles off in rock-rap style quite amazingly.
"For example," I added, spontaneously, "it has the word apostrophe. I never heard a song with the word apostrophe in it, before." This is true, as far as it goes. But then I elaborated, "'Apostrophe' is one of my favorite words." That was pure confabulation, but it supported my argument with a subjective, emotional appeal. Anyway, it satisfied the girl's request for a reason why I liked the song.
But then the girls started saying, "Apostrophe, apostrophe," over and over. "Is that good entertainment for you?" one asked.
Indeed. Good entertainment.
What I'm listening to right now.
Imagine Dragons, "Whatever It Takes."
Lyrics.
Falling too fast to prepare for this Tripping in the world could be dangerous Everybody circling, it's vulturous Negative, nepotist Everybody waiting for the fall of man Everybody praying for the end of times Everybody hoping they could be the one I was born to run, I was born for this Whip, whip Run me like a racehorse Pull me like a ripcord Break me down and build me up I wanna be the slip, slip Word upon your lip, lip Letter that you rip, rip Break me down and build me up Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do whatever it takes 'Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains Whatever it takes You take me to the top I'm ready for Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do what it takes Always had a fear of being typical Looking at my body feeling miserable Always hanging on to the visual I wanna be invisible Looking at my years like a martyrdom Everybody needs to be a part of 'em Never be enough, I'm the prodigal son I was born to run, I was born for this Whip, whip Run me like a racehorse Pull me like a ripcord Break me down and build me up I wanna be the slip, slip Word upon your lip, lip Letter that you rip, rip Break me down and build me up Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do whatever it takes 'Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains Whatever it takes You take me to the top, I'm ready for Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do what it takes Hypocritical, egotistical Don't wanna be the parenthetical, hypothetical Working onto something that I'm proud of, out of the box An epoxy to the world and the vision we've lost I'm an apostrophe I'm just a symbol to remind you that there's more to see I'm just a product of the system, a catastrophe And yet a masterpiece, and yet I'm half-diseased And when I am deceased At least I go down to the grave and die happily Leave the body and my soul to be a part of thee I do what it takes Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do whatever it takes 'Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains Whatever it takes You take me to the top, I'm ready for Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do what it takes
[daily log: walking, 7.5km; carrying heavy box to post office, 0.5km]
Untitled
Dear Empire, I am confused each time I wake inside you.
You invent addictions.
Are you a high-end graveyard or a child?
I see your children dragging their brains along.
Why not a god who loves water and dancing
instead of mirrors that recite your pretty features only?
You wear a different face to each atrocity.
You are un-unified and tangled.
Are you just gluttony?
Are you civilization’s slow grenade?
I am confused each time I’m swallowed by your doors.
- Jesús Castillo (American-Mexican poet, born 1986)
Poem in which I have wisdom. Poem in which I have a father. Poem in which I care. Poem in which I am from another country. Poem in which I Spanish. Poem in which flowers are important. Poem in which I make pretty gestures. Poem in which I am a Deceptacon. Poem in which I am a novelist. Poem in which I use trash. Poem in which I am a baby. Poem in which I swaddle. Poem in which I bathe. Poem in which I am a box. Poem in which its face is everything. Poem in which faces are everywhere. Poem in which I swear. Poem in which I take an oath. Poem in which I make a joke. Poem in which I can’t move. – Paola Capó-García (American poet)
This is a scheduled (automated) blog post, which will go through in the event I'm lacking an internet connection tomorrow when I might normally post.
What I might be hypothetically listening to – I'm really into that oldschool Mexican hip-hop lately, especially Control Machete, so this is a good guess, and a really amazing song, with a lot going on in it, from jazz riffs to Cuban politics, and a nice collaboration with the Mexican alt rock group Cafe Tacvba.
Control Machete, "Danzón - (feat. Café Tacuba)."
Letra.
Si crees que se le está acabando el vuelo, no Esto está comenzando El danzón ya empezó a tocar (pararara) y no ha terminado, no El paso del tiempo va imponiendo el respeto y la calidad va mano a mano con la cantidad, viene (Viene) viene marcando la pauta y el sentimiento Mi vida empieza desde adentro Siempre brota lo que siento Es verdad lo digo y me comprometo Responsable soy y lo lamento Pero creo que es el crecimiento Por ahora está en el mejor momento El amanecer siempre aparece corrigiendo al anochecer y las cosas que se ven nacer Hay que verlas madurar y crecer Viviendo por suerte y clandestinamente Más no estaba muerto solamente ausente Si paré de pronto, nunca indiferente No acabó el danzón y sigue igual que siempre Si continúa el corazón Ritmos unidos sobre ilusión Noche a noche se escucha la voz Los de tambores, acordes y son Mandar obedeciendo en el danzón Songoro cosongo songe be Songoro cosongo de mamey Que se está bailando en cada rincón Que está sonando en tu corazón Suena que suena las cartas sobre la mesa No hay quien detenga esto nadie se mueva Así es, todo tiene su tiempo y si estás dispuesto A sembrar y cultivar hay que ver el fruto madurar Hasta donde puede llegar sólo hay que desarrollar Ampliar, solamente crear es inmenso el lugar Espacio suficiente como para cohabitar Escucha mi tierra hare eco Entre las montañas se hare camino el concreto Señales de humo que van creciendo cada día más Tratando de comunicar Exponiendo los adentros a la luz como van Sin borrar nada sin tapar nada sin ocultar nada Se presentan testimonios reales El sentimiento no es más que puras verdades Reuniendo por suerte y discretamente Más no estaba lejos respectivamente Si lo que se mueve proviene del vientre No acabó el danzón y ha de seguir pa' siempre Si se ha dado la ocasión Ciertos sonidos de imaginación Día a día que visita el sol Los de tambores, acordes y son Mandar obedeciendo en el danzón Songoro cosongo songe be Songoro cosongo de mamey Es guardar silencio de movimiento Ayunar de color y sonido Ser mujer viejo y niño y dejarse llevar…
Control Machete – De Perros Amores. The video is weird, creepy, and borderline NSFW. That said, it's a scene from the eponymous movie for which this song is the title track.
La calidad de las letras disponibles en línea no es muy buena, e hice varios cambios y ajustes, pero todavía no son exactos. Parece que probablemente había mal entendido por lo menos algunas palabras. Específicamente, yo siempre he oído la línea del coro "atardece en ti" como "harta de sentir" – frase que igual incluso tiene su propio sentido dentro de la lógica de la canción. Tal vez la ambigüidad es intencional.
Letras.
Suficientes son los problemas de un solo día Como para preocuparse del futuro (¿Cual?) Olvidamos que para poder llegar al otro lado Hay que empezar derribando el primero de los muros Nos pasamos la vida viendo triunfos y fracasos Conseguidos en tiempo pretérito ¿Cuantas veces se ha detenido el sol a mediodía? (¿Cuantas?) ¿Por que ya no quiere vivir más atardeceres? (¿Cuantas veces?)
El negro dejara de ser negro sin el blanco El bueno dejara de ser bueno sin el malo
Rutina repetitiva que constantemente termina Puede empezar de nuevo da fruto la semilla ¿Por que envejece por que tu piel se va arrugando? El paso del tiempo una broma te está jugando ¿Sabes que la codicia puede dejarte en la ruina? ¿Quieres solucionarlo? ¡borrarlo de tu vida! de perros amores ¡borrarlo de tu vida! de perros amores ¡borrarlo de tu vida!
si alguna vez si alguna vez si alguna vez si alguna vez
Amanece el alma atardece en ti
Amanece el alma atardece en ti
acción es en real voluntad sensación, la velocidad fé e ilusión orgánica coincidencia armónica
No existe ningún borrador mágico para borrar todos los errores cometidos ¿Que pasaría si las flores solo se marchitaran? ¿O solo se quedaran como botones? Duele la realidad, duele la fantasía solo se queda en los sueños ¿Que pasaría si nunca muero? ¿y no tuviera la oportunidad de nacer de nuevo?
Amanece el alma (vuelve otra vez, aparece) atardece en ti (desapareces, te vas y vuelves)
Amanece el alma (vuelve otra vez, aparece) atardece en ti (desapareces, te vas y vuelves)
Amanece el alma (vuelve otra vez, aparece) atardece en ti (desapareces, te vas y vuelves)
Amanece el alma (vuelve otra vez, aparece) atardece en ti (desapareces, te vas y vuelves)
We were doing short-speech responses to speaking questions. The question was, "Do you like your family, or not? What are the best and worst parts of your family?"
6th grader Jaehyeon, incorporating a very long pause as he groped for a possible answer, said, "The best part of my family is… me!"
"I see," I said, mildly amused. "So, what's the worst part of your family, then?" I prompted.
"The worst part is… not me. The other ones."
At that, I laughed. At least he was being consistent.
What I'm listening to right now.
Imagine Dragons, "Believer." This was a song recently chosen by one of my students for a CC class. It's grown on me, as tends to happen when I teach a song to several classes over as many days. I like how it's structured like a good debate speech: "First things first… second things second," etc. I pointed this out to the students and they just groaned.
Lyrics.
First things first I'ma say all the words inside my head I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been, oh ooh The way that things have been, oh ooh Second thing second Don't you tell me what you think that I can be I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea, oh ooh The master of my sea, oh ooh I was broken from a young age Taking my sulking to the masses Write down my poems for the few That looked at me, took to me, shook to me, feeling me Singing from heartache from the pain Taking my message from the veins Speaking my lesson from the brain Seeing the beauty through the … pain You made me a, you made me a believer, believer (Pain, pain) You break me down, you build me up, believer, believer (Pain) Oh let the bullets fly, oh let them rain My life, my love, my drive, it came from (Pain) You made me a, you made me a believer, believer Third things third Send a prayer to the ones up above All the hate that you've heard has turned your spirit to a dove, oh ooh Your spirit up above, oh ooh I was choking in the crowd Building my rain up in the cloud Falling like ashes to the ground Hoping my feelings, they would drown But they never did, ever lived, ebbing and flowing Inhibited, limited 'Til it broke up and it rained down It rained down, like … pain You made me a, you made me a believer, believer (Pain, pain) You break me down, you built me up, believer, believer (Pain) I let the bullets fly, oh let them rain My life, my love, my drive, it came from (Pain) You made me a, you made me a believer, believer Last things last By the grace of the fire and the flames You're the face of the future, the blood in my veins, oh ooh The blood in my veins, oh ooh But they never did, ever lived, ebbing and flowing Inhibited, limited 'Til it broke up and it rained down It rained down, like … pain You made me a, you made me a believer, believer (Pain, pain) You break me down, you built me up, believer, believer (Pain) I let the bullets fly, oh let them rain My life, my love, my drive, it came from (Pain) You made me a, you made me a believer, believer
El viento es un caballo: óyelo cómo corre por el mar, por el cielo.
Quiere llevarme: escucha cómo recorre el mundo para llevarme lejos.
Escóndeme en tus brazos por esta noche sola, mientras la lluvia rompe contra el mar y la tierra su boca innumerable.
Escucha como el viento me llama galopando para llevarme lejos.
Con tu frente en mi frente, con tu boca en mi boca, atados nuestros cuerpos al amor que nos quema, deja que el viento pase sin que pueda llevarme.
Deja que el viento corra coronado de espuma, que me llame y me busque galopando en la sombra, mientras yo, sumergido bajo tus grandes ojos, por esta noche sola descansaré, amor mío.
All essences of sweetness from the white Warm day go up in vapor, when the dark Comes down. Ascends the tune of meadow-lark, Ascends the noon-time smell of grass, when night Takes sunlight from the world, and gives it ease. Mysterious wings have brushed the air; and light Float all the ghosts of sense and sound and sight; The silent hive is echoing the bees. So stir my thoughts at this slow, solemn time. Now only is there certainty for me When all the day's distilled and understood. Now light meets darkness: now my tendrils climb In this vast hour, up the living tree, Where gloom foregathers, and the stern winds brood.
It comes about that the drifting of these curtains Is full of long motions, as the ponderous Deflations of distance; or as clouds Inseparable from their afternoons; Or the changing of light, the dropping Of the silence, wide sleep and solitude Of night, in which all motion Is beyond us, as the firmament, Up-rising and down-falling, bares The last largeness, bold to see. – Wallace Stevens (American poet, 1879-1955)
I recently learned that the famous classic rock song, "Smoke On The Water," by British rockers Deep Purple, was written about events at Montreux, Switzerland, which took place there in 1971 at the same time that the famous Russian-American author Vladimir Nabokov was resident there. It's interesting to imagine Nabokov and the members of Deep Purple interacting in a small French-Swiss town. Nabokov was of a different generation, but he might have been interested in rock music, given his fascination with other aspects of emergent pop culture.
What I'm listening to right now.
Deep Purple, "Smoke On The Water."
We all came out to Montreux On the Lake Geneva shoreline To make records with a mobile We didn't have much time Frank Zappa and the Mothers Were at the best place around But some stupid with a flare gun Burned the place to the ground
Smoke on the water, fire in the sky Smoke on the water
They burned down the gambling house It died with an awful sound Funky Claude was running in and out Pulling kids out the ground When it all was over We had to find another place But Swiss time was running out It seemed that we would lose the race
Smoke on the water, fire in the sky Smoke on the water
We ended up at the Grand Hotel It was empty cold and bare But with the Rolling truck Stones thing just outside Making our music there With a few red lights and a few old beds We make a place to sweat No matter what we get out of this I know, I know we'll never forget
Smoke on the water, fire in the sky Smoke on the water
The mad girl with the staring eyes and long white fingers Hooked in the stones of the wall, The storm-wrack hair and screeching mouth: does it matter, Cassandra, Whether the people believe Your bitter fountain? Truly men hate the truth, they'd liefer Meet a tiger on the road. Therefore the poets honey their truth with lying; but religion— Vendors and political men Pour from the barrel, new lies on the old, and are praised for kindly Wisdom. Poor bitch be wise. No: you'll still mumble in a corner a crust of truth, to men And gods disgusting—you and I, Cassandra.
Well I guess I'm having a hard week. No further comment.
What I'm listening to right now.
Taylor Swift, "Begin Again." She's really quite a talented lyricist, in my opinion. Her language is both contemporarily authentic yet still meets a lot of the traditional criteria of poetic language.
Lyrics.
Took a deep breath in the mirror He didn't like it when I wore high heels But I do
Turn the lock and put my headphones on He always said he didn't get this song but I do, I do
Walked in expecting you'd be late But you got here early and you stand and wave I walk to you
You pull my chair out and help me in And you don't know how nice that is But I do
And you throw your head back laughing Like a little kid I think it's strange that you think I'm funny cause He never did I've been spending the last 8 months Thinking all love ever does Is break and burn and end But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again
You said you never met one girl who Had as many James Taylor records as you But I do
We tell stories and you don't know why I'm coming off a little shy But I do
And you throw your head back laughing Like a little kid I think it's strange that you think I'm funny cause He never did
I've been spending the last 8 months Thinking all love ever does Is break and burn and end But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again
And we walked down the block, to my car And I almost brought him up But you start to talk about the movies That your family watches every single Christmas And I want to talk about that And for the first time What's past is past
And you throw your head back laughing Like a little kid I think it's strange that you think I'm funny cause He never did I've been spending the last 8 months Thinking all love ever does Is break and burn and end But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again
I don't have much to say. I'm going through a rough spot, in terms of lack of creativity and overall poor affect. I'll just plug along with work, which is busy enough.
Meanwhile, what I'm listening to right now.
Neko Case, "In California." The video, incidentally, was directed by a Korean director. There seem to be a lot of those operating in L.A.
Lyrics.
In California I dream of snow And all the places we used to go With the night falling down With the night falling down Now I'm living in Korea Town Waking to the sound of car alarms
I remember your face when I showed you the ticket Said you were happy for me, your heart wasn't in it Just a phone call away Now there's nothing to say As the days roll by, disconnected
In the land where the sun is always shining I'm crying alone, palm trees they laugh at me Another fool playing songs that don't matter For people who chatter endlessly
Another suicide on the 405 The Black Dahlia she smiles and smiles It's the same old town that bled her dry One more starlet one more time Bound to make it do or die Talk a walk to Bonnie Brae Try to wash these dreams away They try to tell me L.A is beautiful when it rains
