Too Aware
©All content is owned by Cassell Jones
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2012-02-25
Source: lawsofmodernman
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Source: lawsofmodernman
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2011-12-04
There aren’t words for how much I miss this, only a pain in my stomach.
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2011-11-12
Oh so true…
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Mermaid Avenue
The best album I’ve heard in a while.
The voices of Billy Bragg and Jeff Tweedy together with the lyrics of Woody Guthrie make for an irresistible combination. However, this record stands alone, it isn’t a reflection of the artists that put it together but rather a work of art in itself.
Some of my favorite tracks:
-Hesitating Beauty
-One By One
-Walt Whitman’s Niece
-California Stars
-Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key
Thank you to the lovely friend who first introduced me to this album!
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“All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”
-Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy
I am currently writing my “extenuating circumstances” essay for my college applications. This quote is fitting to my subject matter.
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One of my favorite scenes from a beautiful movie. Watch the film if you haven’t already!
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To love the softest hearts are prone,
But such can ne’er be all his own;
Too timid in his woes to share,
Too meek to meet, or brave despair;
And sterner hearts alone may feel
The wound that time can never heal.
The rugged metal of the mine,
Must burn before its surface shine,
But plunged within the furnace-flame,
It bends and melts - though still the same;
Then tempered to thy want, or will,
‘Twill serve thee to defend or kill;
A breast-plate for thine hour of need,
Or blade to bid thy foeman bleed;
But if a dagger’s form it bear,
Let those who shape its edge, beware!
Thus passion’s fire, and woman’s art,
Can turn and tame the sterner heart;
From these its form and tone are ta’en,
And what they make it, must remain,
But break - before it bend again.
If solitude succeed to grief,
Release from pain is slight relief;
The vacant bosom’s wilderness
Might thank the pang that made it less.
We loathe what none are left to share:
Even bliss - ‘twere woe alone to bear;
The heart once left thus desolate
Must fly at last for ease - to hate.
It is as if the dead could feel
The icy worm around them steal,
And shudder, as the reptiles creep
To revel o’er their rotting sleep,
Without the power to scare away
The cold consumers of their clay I
It is as if the desert-bird,
Whose beak unlocks her bosom’s stream
To still her famished nestlings’ scream,
Nor mourns a life to them transferred,
Should rend her rash devoted breast,
And find them flown her empty nest.
The keenest pangs the wretched find
Are rapture to the dreary void,
The leafless desert of the mind,
The waste of feelings unemployed.
Who would be doomed to gaze upon
A sky without a cloud or sun?
Less hideous far the tempest’s roar
Than ne’er to brave the billows more -
Thrown, when the war of winds is o’er,
A lonely wreck on fortune’s shore,
‘Mid sullen calm, and silent bay,
Unseen to drop by dull decay; -
Better to sink beneath the shock
Than moulder piecemeal on the rock!- Byron’s “The Giaour” (an excerpt)
