I left a heavy book on top of my alarm clock last night, as I went to sleep.
I woke up this morning & the digital display was racing through the hours of the day.
I thought I might have woken up in a gap in the space-time continuum, but I think it's still 2006.
I believe, each morning, within minutes of waking up, we may have already (sub)consciously decided what kind of day it will be.
If I choose a defeatist mood, the day will defeat me. If I make the small effort to think positive, the day has no limits.
What colours the flames that burn inside,
And at times, to flicker black-red?
Sometimes the light is a warm glowing yellow.
But sometimes it's cold blue instead.
I can stoke it myself, if I desire,
Or others may throw on their shite.
But I decide, what goes into the fire,
And I'm grateful it still burns so bright.
I think it's natural to struggle sometimes, if we're doing things right.
Some people struggle against oppression, some struggle against convention. Some people struggle to make their lives better for their families, & I struggle at times, just to make the right choices.
(Like clicking 'Publish Post' on Friday night)
About Me
- Rob
- Life's pretty sweet mostly. I spend my days stoked, doing really gnarly shit. Sometimes shit gets really, really gnarly & I've scored some sick wipeouts, but I just get back on my board, & do something really gnarly.
17 comments:
Wonderful.
Your humor reminds me of Douglas Adams who is one of my favorite authors of all time. He was a genius. If only he was alive today!
Rob this is lovely!!
Last night I watched a live performance of Low C twice, before I went to bed. I fell asleep to that tune playing in my head. Then this morning as soon as I woke up, it started again. I couldn't get that song out of my mind, and frankly I'm glad I couldn't!!
This has happened to me on more than one occasion, and each time it has, I was in a good mood for the rest of the day. This seems to be more prevalent when I have to work. I find that people don't irk me as much as they normally do. So thank you Rob for making my day a little better!!!
Seeing SG in philly earlier this year, i cried like a LITTLE GIRL when they played "Low C". (You weren't there, Rob, but your little bruv. done you proud.) Wait, I am a girl.
As to that decision...would that I really believed that I, and I alone, decided what goes into the fire. It seems so many others have a claim to burn what they want, when they want.
Still, it's a good reminder of the theory -- Free will and all that.
Sunday nights are a gloomy time. There's always work in the AM. Seems that the choices are limited. But...just today, I was thinking that I could sell the house and jack my job in and live in a tiny place somewhere way out yonder. Would the pups like generic dog food, I wonder?
Perhaps if you leave your book on the clock again, you can mess with the space-time continuum and we can mess with time and all the attendant choices...
to kate,
I'm so glad that someone else has cried at a Supergrass show :)
What was the heavy book on your alarm clock? Mein Kamph? (Get it, My Struggle)
Dictatorship for Dummies?
How to Go Up Your Ass in Three Easy Steps, All The While Being Grammatically Correct?
Thanks for the comments.
Kate,
thank you for taking the time to empathize with how I was feeling on Sunday. You're right, it is Idealistic, but I was feeling a bit guilty (I didn't do anything REALLY bad), and trying to tell myself I have a choice in how to react sometimes.
Stephanana,
Actually, it was 'Bob's Big Bad Book of Ballads'.
And you WILL be sorry if I ever become famous.
xx
More 'crying at gigs' stories please.
beautiful words Rob ..
I understand what you want say. Also I sometimes think it , struggle ? . , yes .. I think that it's natural, and think that is one of the things that we often make therefore and noteven we render notice , sometimes for stupid things , sometimes for important , this doesnt import,because the important is possession the force for make it, if also inconsciously , because it's this that's it makes to feel us alive , and it makes us to go ahead
..i'm really sorry for my english :°\
bye
Roberta
Rob, I was wondering, are your days similar to those of Charly? (i saw his film on myspace, the film was art, but if it is representative for his daily life, then I can see why it was filmed in black&white)
It would explain the occasional struggle I guess...
But, then again nothing is wrong with an occasional struggle.. Personally I kinda like to struggle every now and then... I mean, without cold and wet autumn days you probably would appreciate a nice sunny summer day less...
Per your gig crying tale request:
I cry a little during Richard III because that was the first song that made me love SG and I always remember the first time I heard it.
I cry during Mary, it’s the way the music all comes together. (and it’s hot they way they sing fuck instead of shock. Not sure why that helps make me cry, probably just because it means I’m getting to see it played live)
I cried during Tales of Endurance because it feels epic.
Then I want to cry some more when the show is over.
If you ever played Mama and Papa I might break down like a ninny girl.
…kate’s right, there’s nothing more incurably depressing than Sunday nights.
Well, maybe not cry.. but got a little teary eyed
I've only been to two shows (psst.. come to Canada more often) so the second one, which was last year, I'd been dying to see
But if you come to Toronto again and play Late in the Day, I will for sure cry like a little girly girl.. and then some
I am just going to embarrass myself, aren't I?
I have cried with delight (Danny saying "hi" to my friend, who was in New York at the time, on the radio at the Maida Vale session -- although it was v. brief), depression ("this is the last SG gig I am going to be going to in a while" -- after going to 4 in a row), loss (particular songs make me think of things in my own past and lead to gagging, snot-drenched tears -- an example was the "Low C" moment, when I was filled with this sense that having once turned heads is no guarantee of continuing to do so), regret (a particular song makes me think of what I haven’t done and why), frustration (SG aren't in Madison Square Garden and I don't really care about Radiohead, but I have pit tickets which I stayed up all night to get, so here I am thinking about what it would have been like to see them here (instead of "Low")), more delight ("dear god, this chord change/harmony hits me in a place that is transformative"), etc, etc, etc. I've cried at live gigs as well as sitting on the train listening to them or sitting in a hotel room (in the instance I was thinking of, I remember that I was listening to "Shotover Hill" although there are plenty of SG songs that can tip me over the edge) or, you know, doing my grocery shopping.
SG gigs are the whole hog for me. They make me la lunatic extraordinaire. They rip my guts out and fill me with utterly wild pulsing LIFE. (I am going to regret saying all of this in a pulic venue, aren't I? Rob, you may need to cut this later if I freak out.)
I have floated on air, walked on water, danced through snow, crossed the country (and the ocean -- literally), walked MILES (Philadelphia, after the huge snow storm that shut the city down), stood in the blazing heat for hours, stood in the freezing cold for hours, almost got my friend arrested (when she fell asleep in a car waiting for me, while I waited after a gig to get signatures), and just generally made a complete prat of myself because of what this band does to me.
Funnier by far are the "and then I was a dork" stories. You can imagine -- me standing outside the stage door and then BOOM! there they are and I am a dummy and speechless and sort of fumbling (yes, I actually have a video of my SHOES because I hit the button on my camera and then dropped it one time). First picture I ever had taken with any of the illustrious SG was with Rob. I look like a MORON and he looks faintly amused. He was, as he has always been, completely charming and kind to me as I dribbled onto my shirt, saying nothing in particular. As he and them other boys got into the car and away they went and I WALKED INTO TRAFFIC waving after them. In real life, I am a full competent, functioning human being. When I am anywhere near a SG gig, I become a drooling (but pretty happy) idiot. I have many, many of these very embarrassing stories. I am not ashamed of any of them (although, from time to time, I have wished that at least a LITTLE of my brain would kick into gear as they sweep past the stage door, so that I wasn't quite as boring as the last time). I feel guilty that I am this boring. Somehow, I feel a genuine responsibility to be a better representative (on their behalf). I am working on it.
Kate, I suggest that you contact the pope or one of the other men in dress asap. Your gifts to float on air and to walk on water are rarely seen, it could very well be some religous thing. (while typing these last three words, I take in account the rest of your post as well).
Cheers!
Yesterday, I heard "California Dreamin'" by the Mamas & Papas on the radio, & it made me want to weep like a girl.
Of course, I woke up in the night thinking, "Oh, I did NOT hit "post", did I?" Sadly, it appears I did.
The men in dresses know that these feelings are pagan and dangerous (something to do with freedom of the spirit and all that) and they want me outlawed.
Now I am just going to go and hide in a corner with a cat-o-nine tails and punish myself for speaking this all aloud.
But, as is usual in my daily life, I WILL NOT SHED A SINGLE TEAR.
I don't have a good habit in my life,i always sleep too late at wee hours.So i often have a confused day if i wake up so early.
I still do that,although i know it's a bad habit.
Sometimes a song in memory could make me want to cry...
Kate asked me to post a gig-crying story to balance out hers (for some reason she's embarrassed about it but I think it's gorgeous) - so I confess that I already posted one and for some reason it ignored my name and said I am anonymous.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
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