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Monthly Archives: May 2015

Man in the Box

When it comes to “Seattle Sound”, I am firmly in the Ed Ved as minor diety crowd. I have always felt a pull from Pearl Jam. 

Nirvana and Alice in Chains are in serpentine contest for number two. Both bands are guilty “pleasures”. The music is hunkered down in pain, misery and despair.

Man in the Box. I remember how jarring it was when the video appeared on MTV. The imagery and the lyrics were an affront to Christianity, though I still felt much of the message.

Layne Staley, as I am positive I have reiterated here more than once, was the type of artist whose pain was front and center, beautified at times. I don’t think it was glorified ever, but the spot light was on a soured, sick soul.

And so, as I come to accept things that are not as I wish, I realize the release of such sorrow can have beauty, inform and allow a step forward. 

Or it can be an anchor, as it was for Layne. I didn’t know the man, of course, but the shine of his soul left a mark. I am thankful for it.

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Posted by on 05/16/2015 in Weekapaug Groove

 

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Another Know Nothing Jon, broken time with Tyrion and Snow, So it goes and other related and unrelated musings

11/30/10. It was a day that was easy and simple in hindsight. Terry Pegula purchased the Buffalo Sabres with money stained in polluted water. 

I ranted a bit at work about it today. Because not 24 hours after I enjoyed the last Buffalo Bills game Terry Pegula purchased the Sabres with money so intertwined in fracking Billy the Buffalo should shit fracking fluid everytime the team loses.

I quit the team the Monday after the 2014 started. I cried. More from the relationships that were held strong by decades of shared allegiance to our gladiator team of choice, the Buffalo Bills.

I used to grunt and cheer with the masses at Rich Stadium when Mike Stratton’s clothesline tackle would play on the Jumbotron. It was to be the 30th season at the stadium.

I don’t miss football. I still watch hockey. But when I see hard hits with my 41 year old mind wincing, body aching, I cringe. Especially dirty shit like Brooks Orpik’s elbow tonight, but I digress.

I’ve been actively dealing with a chronic illness for 18 months. It is no deadlier than life, when managed. I am excelling there.  

But I am not fooling myself any longer. I am broken. Tyrion Lannister spoke for me as much as Jon Snow at Winterfell.

It is not the external rationale presented by Tyrion, rather the internal one that builds that hope- Tomorrow I wake up whole.

I didn’t have it as a mantra, but it was a clause in every statement related to my disease. Well, I continue that diet, the supplements, the vitamins, stretching. It is the road to less infirmity if done proper.

That being said a stick is likely in my near future.
So my point of view is parallel to the differences in Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire, summerized easiest with Tyrion.

TV Tyrion- stylish scar, handsome to a degree, polished, chokes his betraying lover, but does not watch the life ebb from her.

Book Tyrion- Nose gone, grotesque, two different colored eyes, chokes his betraying lover watching the life fade from her.

I am book Tyrion in acceptance. It is ugly, this situation and while it is possible to regain function it is probable I do not.

So it goes.

The night is dark and full of terrors, winter is coming, hear me roar!

 
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Posted by on 05/13/2015 in Weekapaug Groove