Browsing Posts in Sunday Lou

A Demagogue Inside Your Head

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When your imagination has too much to say
When the chill of the night meets the sweat of the day
And you have trouble understanding what other people have to say
You’d better

Hang on to your emotions, hang on to your emotions

When a demagogue inside your head has taken charge
And by default what you say or do is criticized
And this litany of failures is recited a thousand times
You’d better

Hang on to your emotions, hang on to your emotions (Reed)

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Being that this is indeed Sunday, I thought it time for the resurrection of Sunday Lou, especially seeing as how original articles on my site have been few and far between the past two months. The tone of Lou’s song, Hang on to Your Emotions, from his 1996 album Set the Twilight Reeling (one of my personal favorites in his extensive catalog) is very fitting for my various frustrations and insecurities as of late. Of course, it is not my intent to turn this site into my personal forum for the occasional introspective and esoteric examination of my life, though there ultimately will be a bit of that, but by and large, constructive and pragmatic critique of our Imperialist State is what sparks my intellectual passions. Part of my frustration stems from so many recent assaults on our freedom and our common sense by the forces of said Imperialism. So for today, Sunday Lou will be a manifestation of my quips regarding recent political deeds and doings. continue reading…

 

We’re All Going Down

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Going Down

When you’re in a dream
and you think you’ve got your
problems all nailed down
Pieces of the scheme
Seem to rattle up and to rattle down (Reed)

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Screaming, bellowing and exerting the trepidations of youthful reverie, I take the plunge into a full mutilation of the psyche. The spirit never seems to crash, or to fall, or to disseminate as I try going down and taking my crew with me.  Ultimately, the success of the transoceanic journey from synaptic relay posts to the heart of matter relies solely on the abilities of my crew to dispense of the weight that accrues throughout our voyage. continue reading…

 

Oh! Sweet Nuthin’

Say a word for Jimmy Brown
He ain’t got nothing at all
Not a shirt right off his back
He ain’t got nothing at all
And say a word for Ginger Brown
Walks with his head down to the ground
They took the shoes right off his feet
And threw the poor boy right out in the street

And this is what he said
:
Oh sweet nuthin’
She ain’t got nothing at all
Oh sweet nuthin’
She ain’t got nothing at all
(Lou Reed)

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The independent and learned society is truly the manifestation of cognitive absurdity wrapped into the fecal intersection of life and emotional dysfunction.

Sweet nothing: this is what we’ve got. But I’ll give it a shot because that is the only option, right?

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Winding through the corridors of manipulation and hyperbole can be quite the tiring journey. As I contemplate and sit in the puddles of the vomit spewing from the heads of the State that I call my own, I have the epiphany of a freedom of inconsequential meanings. Through the varying layers of confusion and psychosis, I stumble about these corridors blindly yet acutely aware of my impending collapse and re-birth into the womb of consciousness.

Gaining professional experience after completing my dissertation on Urban Pharmacology, I walked and strolled about the streets in a state of self-identifying and self-ameliorating dissonance; the white boy in the world of the dark forces of Americana laid out on the dirty streets where the poor man drinks from the cup of dreams and promises that have yet to be fulfilled. continue reading…

   

Well, I’m Beginning to See the Light.
Some people work very hard,
but still they never get it right.
Well, I’m beginning to see the light.

I wanna tell all you people, now.
Now, now, baby, I’m beginning to see the light.

Wine in the morning, and some breakfast at night.
Well, I’m beginning to see the light.

Here we go again,

I thought that you were my friend…

How does it feel, to be loved? (Reed)

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The light is lurking somewhere in the moment. Somewhere in the distance and beyond practical solutions and rational discourse is the home of the insufferable and indistinguishable light of consciousness.

Heroes come in many forms, though rarely among the wretched, the weary and the disgusting souls from beggar roots in Calcutta and Lima and Sao Paulo and Los Angeles.

Living in misery, squalor and filth; wholly disenfranchised from the universal perceptions of sustainability, the heroes are but of millions in a vast wasteland of the human capital left behind to rot in the pits of our own disregard.

Such is the lot of the human race. Such is the lot of our collective psyche.

If all life is indeed suffering and ending desire obliterates suffering, then what of the archetypes of our own construct that are inherent in humanity? continue reading…

   

I’ve got a restless feeling by my side
Early dawning, Sunday morning
It’s just the wasted years so close behind
Watch out, the world’s behind you
There’s always someone around you who will call
It’s nothing at all
Sunday morning and I’m falling
I’ve got a feeling I don’t want to know
Early dawning, Sunday morning
It’s all the streets you crossed, not so long ago
Watch out, the world’s behind you
There’s always someone around you who will call
It’s nothing at all
Sunday Morning.

Yet another Sunday morning by my side, yet another opportunity to spread the dystopic and eerily soothing voice of Lou Reed to the archetype of my subconscious .

Considering the kind words received from my Lou Reed-inspired prose, reverie, imagery and alliteration of last Sunday morning, perhaps this will be a weekly theme to showcase the depravity lurking inside a life defined by the darkness and light of perpetual psychic discontent. continue reading…

     
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