I just finished watching Cool Hand Luke which was filmed in 1967. Do they make movies like that anymore? Where allegory is clearly pointed towards the heartless behavior of authority and the no give a fucks attitude that seems required to deal with a bloodless authority with some sense of self dignity and truth with being alive. It warms my blood when I run into some creationists that go above and below the death sentence that greed and ego can condemn popular artists with in this day and age. These fellers from Dundee, Scotland rock.
The Mirror Trap caught my ear with Silent Men, a song or ballad to folks that give their lives to a company for a little free time on the weekend. I have worked 27 years in boxes. Boxes that make shit for people to use. If it weren’t for the people chaining themselves up in those boxes with me, I would of went insane much sooner than I did. Either that or I would of overdosed. But, the thing that I have learned after doing it for so long is that the chains get comfortable being balanced with the dignity in providing for your family’s sustenance. That old box can grow into a comfortable place of acceptance where your presence is worth something to the machine and that can give a fellow a sense of purpose. A sense of purpose that can give a man the sense of death when it escapes him. So this song really hit me in the heart. I have known many Georges and am I a George? Fuck, I want out, but the fucking chains have grown into my skin. That much I realize. This rock band is worthy of attention. Peace.
Just read their homepage a bit and the lead singer appreciates Fyodor’s work. I should of known…..
Links to the band
The song that caught my attention and my heart.
The second tune is much deeper than skimmers will realize. A beautifully written angry tune.
The third tune is a couple years old on Youtube, but it is worth a listen if you enjoyed the first two posted tunes.
Nothing else matters:
that is the only question.
If you would not feel
the horrible burden of Time
weighing on your shoulders
and crushing you to the earth,
be drunken continually.
Drunken with what?
With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will.
But be drunken.
And if sometimes,
on the stairs of a palace,
or on the green side of a ditch,
or in the dreary solitude of your own room,
you should awaken
and the drunkenness be half or wholly slipped away from you,
ask of the wind,
or of the wave,
or of the star,
or of the bird,
or of the clock,
of whatever flies,
ask what hour it is;
and the wind,
clock will answer you:
“It is the hour to be drunken!”