U2 -Miracle Drug
Miracle Drug
I wanna trip inside your head
Spend the day there…
To hear the things you haven’t said
And see what you might see
I wanna hear you when you call
Do you feel anything at all?
I wanna see your thoughts take shape
And walk right out
Freedom has a scent
Like the top of a newborn baby’s head
The songs are in your eyes
I see them when you smile
I’ve seen enough, I’m not giving up
On a miracle drug
Of science and the human heart
There is no limit
There is no failure here, sweetheart
Just when you quit…
I am you and you are mine
Love makes nonsense of space
And time…will disappear
Love and logic keep us clear
Reason is on our side, love…
The songs are in your eyes
I see them when you smile
I’ve had enough of romantic love
I’d give it up, yeah, I’d give it up
For a miracle, a miracle drug,
A miracle drug
God I need your help tonight
Beneath the noise
Below the din
I hear your voice
It’s whispering
In science and in medicine
I was a stranger
You took me in
The songs are in your eyes
I see them when you smile
I’ve had enough of romantic love
Yeah I’d give it up, yeah, I’d give it up
For a miracle, miracle drug
Miracle, miracle drug
…
“I have walked by stalls in the market place where books, dog eared and faded from their purple, have burst with a white hosanna. I have seen people crowned with a double crown, holding in either hand the crook and flail, the power and the glory. I have understood how the scar becomes a star, I have felt the flake of fire fall, miraculous and pentecostal. My yesterdays walk with me. They keep step, they are grey faces that peer over my shoulder. I live on Paradise Hill, ten minutes from the station, thirty seconds from the shops and the local. Yet I am a burning amateur, torn by the irrational and incoherent, violently searching and self-condemned.”
This is the opening paragraph of a book that I just started called Free Fall by William Golding, the author of Lord of the Flies. needless to say I’m excited.
I sometimes write journal entries as if I am writing someone, and I have decided to put one of them on here, so, uh, here is it.
A friend of mine once told me that she had a hard time writing, because she was a perfectionist and her writing never seemed as if it was good enough. I sometimes feel this way as well, especially with regard to songwriting and painting. Something inside me isn’t satisfied with what I have done, something inside me says that it’s not good enough. I sometimes wonder about this and I rarely come to any sort of conclusion, I merely suppose.
I suppose, however, that this is sometimes the way it was meant to be. Art, it seems, is not something that is always going to fully satisfy me, is not something that was meant to always be the end of the question.
It occurs to me that the purpose of art is sometimes merely to be. That at some point the artist has to let go, let the art stand as it is, with its flaws and its imperfections, for beauty is often most evident in these flaws and imperfections. Create just for the purpose of creating, and stop worrying about whether it will be acclaimed among peers. Often I have had an experience with a piece of art, whether a piece of writing, a photograph, or a song, in which I further understood my questions, was jolted out of my apathy, or experienced an emotion that I needed to feel. During these times I wonder what would have happened if the artist had been so unsatisfied with his art that it was discarded.
Again, I merely suppose, but I think that supposing can be a means to further understand a concept, so I continue for lack of a reason to stop doing so.
On friday I drove from Hillsdale, Michigan, to my home in Fort Wayne, Indiana, a drive that takes a little over an hour and a half. I was by myself. It was awesome. The ground had accumulated over a foot of snow in the past week, and the sun had just peeked out, accenting the dazzling whiteness of fresh snow. As I made the trip, tunes from the likes of Journey, Foreigner, Styx, REO Speedwagon, and Air Supply poured from the radio and I was reminded of how important it is to just be alone sometimes. The past two weeks had involved being responsible for eleven fifth graders for twenty-three hours out of the day, which is definitely interesting, and I was in desperate need of this.
I guess the reason I’m saying this is to encourage you to take some time to sit and reflect, to process what has been going on in your life and gain some perspective. That’s it.
Well, I’m back. I have spent the last two weeks as a cabin leader for fifth/sixth graders at Camp Michindoh in Hillsdale. Mich. I am sure I’ll post about this later, but as of right now my thoughts can rest on nothing but a home cooked meal and a piping hot shower, with adequate pressure, which reaches above the small of my back.
…
“When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.”
-C.S. Lewis
Death Cab For Cutie -The New Year
The bass is kind of loud in their live mix, but it’s not too bad. I like this song.
4 comments