So maybe I've been a bit indolent when it comes to updating lately, but I have, as always, a very poor excuse. Iv been busy. I've been betraying summer by running around frantically and indulging in too many social activities (though I do love my friends). This is the time made for days in the sunshine reading and vague dreams drawn out into the afternoon. Have I been sleeping in? Ok, yes. But have I been reading? No, not really. I started The Subterraneans by Kerouac, and it's excellent, as was expected, but I'm sort of not in the Kerouac mood. I wish I had something extremely upsetting to rant about so that with great ardor I could pour my spirits into a contestation. Of course, Jamie and Chris have already done this for me. Haha. In other words there has been a recent .... DA DA DA.. CONTROVERSY AMONG THE WEBLOGS! Jamie(one of my coolest friends) and Chris (one of her coolest friends) have been arguing over the significance of Thrice lyrics, both in style and content. After thoroughly examining both of their complaints, I am naturally inclined to fall over somewhere closer to Jamie's opinion. This is only because I write and I rip everything apart like no other.

I don't know.. I guess I see it like this.. (Yes, I am going to shove myself into this debate, which has already ended, but perhaps I will stream on for my own benefit)

A writer has two things, a passion and an obligation. Some writers choose one and some writer's take them both in brilliant fusion. The passionate writer scribbles away in the mad hours of the dawn oblivious to life as a progressing society and only cognizant of the brilliant microcosm unfolding before his pen in small revelations of beauty. (Now, this is a variation of the "passionate writer," because I know there are many other muses unrelated to my present scenario). The passionate writer can, on occasion, indulge in a selfish style. I know, because I tend to function on this level. This writer says "I write for me, I like this, I feel this way and if you don't like it, well then go to hell." There is a slight fault in this thread of thought..

Art is continually speaking to us through those same seemingly ineffectual illuminations which relate to life on a larger scale and unveil hearts. Even if the writer adopts the attitude of "I write for me and not for you." It is inevitable that his authorship will compel his readers to partake in some sort of procession of thought and squeeze the words into profundities. Once the writer realizes that he is consequential - possessing the mystical and momentous - he must then decide how to write. Does he carry on with the selfish attitude of "if you can't understand this then go to hell," or does he rethink NOT the meaning of his writing, but the STYLE in which he writes. Is he obligated by his passion to elucidate his opinions so they are more attainable on a universal level? To simplify his philosophies into aphorisms? I don't believe he is obligated to dumb down his thoughts, or even alter them in a way that would detract from their significance. But he is obligated to produce QUALITY and most importantly ORIGINALITY. If a writer cannot creep past the fecund banalities that dominate the literature scene (this applies to lyrics), then he has not talent as a writer. He may have passion, but he has no ability to effectively convey that ardency.

Example:

The band Sensefield. I love them. They are a beautiful and lush band, but they have this one song "emergency exit" that is, the fostering platitude of all times. The lyrics are so cliched and so unoriginal that I almost have to skip the song. Last night I go to see NoiseRatchet. Good band... until they start to sing this prosaic girl song. The lyrics were very close to "I have a crush on you. I hope you feel the same way I do. I get a rush when I'm with you."

To any enlightened writer, those lyrics are not going to register in the mind as sincere emotions, but as an ephemeral and poor expression of something deeper than the shallow shell holding it (i.e., the meaning is fine, the writing SUCKS). Now sure that's a fun song, but it's a big bromide all the same. Every writer should take this into consideration before endeavoring to delve into anything: THERE IS NOTHING COGENT IN CLICHES! (perhaps there are exceptions, but in general this should always be meditated upon)

And when a brilliant song is littered with a few poor representations of sentiments, then that makes it harder for the reader. The reader must now sift through the prolix fog of good and bad writing. It often causes disappointment, discouragement, and great insults and rants concerning whoever wrote it.

So, here is my conclusion on the... DA DA DA ... CONTROVERSY AMONG THE WEBLOGS! Thrice probably has good lyrics. BUT, they are, perchance, rudimentary in style. The few elementary mistakes appearing in them engender a confusion and a dissipation between what's good and what's bad. So Jamie begins to see the lyrics for their style. and, being an acute writer, she notices first their mistakes before secondly acknowledging their potential. Chris sees the lyrics for the meaning. Perhaps he notices the cliches or prolific allusions to death or whatever, but the emotion beneath them is so potent that it almost masks the lyrics fallacies. So, Chris and Jamie, being two excellent writers and followers of pure emotion, have been a lovely example of the dichotomy between meaning and how it's conveyed.

On one side there is passion, on the other there is obligation to clarify that passion. And somewhere ensconced within the genius of Pedro and Badly Drawn Boy lyrics (oh, and dashboard), there is the brilliant fusion, which all human hearts strive for, and few fallible pens achieve.