Blame it on Waylon

I have been noticeably slacking in the whole updating department, due to the fact that I have been up to my neck in law reading. However, I wanted to very quickly share the four things that have been getting me through the past two (point five) weeks: Waylon, Kris, Johnny & Willie.

Highwayman

-Highwaymen

I was a highwayman. Along the coach roads I did ride

With sword and pistol by my side
Many a young maid lost her baubles to my trade
Many a soldier shed his lifeblood on my blade
The bastards hung me in the spring of twenty-five
But I am still alive.

I was a sailor. I was born upon the tide
And with the sea I did abide.
I sailed a schooner round the Horn to Mexico
I went aloft and furled the mainsail in a blow
And when the yards broke off they said that I got killed
But I am living still.

I was a dam builder. Across the river deep and wide.
Where steel and water did collide
A place called Boulder on the wild Colorado
I slipped and fell into the wet concrete below
They buried me in that great tomb that knows no sound
But I am still around..I'll always be around..and around and around and
around and around

I fly a starship across the Universe divide
And when I reach the other side
I'll find a place to rest my spirit if I can
Perhaps I may become a highwayman again
Or I may simply be a single drop of rain
But I will remain
And I'll be back again, and again and again and again and again...

Since this is country, I'll forgive the hung/hanged snafu. Also, hearing Johnny Cash sing about flying a starship? I didn't realize the Man in Black could get any more badass. While I'm normally a lyrics kinda gal, you gotta listen to this song. Even better, listen to a live recording. Even better, youtube it and watch four of the most legendary country singers perform one of the best country songs. Then, go cry in a dark closet because there will never be such a concentration of talent and awesomeness on one stage ever again.

**One final point, my obsession with this song may be somewhat predicated on the fact that "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes is my second favorite poem.

And it Burns, Burns, Burns

"Words are never 'only words'; they matter because they define the contours of what we can do."
-Slavoj Zizek

Tonight (or rather this morning) in a brownie-driven frenzy, I looked up the definitions of "love" and "hate." They were completely and totally inadequate. In fact, never once in my life have I heard a good, solid, comprehensive definition of either. Sure, people spout off aphorisms such as "Love means never having to say you're sorry" or some other bullshit, but there are no real definitions. People merely accept love and hate as such abstract, untouchable absolutes. The possible spectrum of love is too broad, so as to cover all manner of sins. The matter is complicated with the addition of prepositions; "I love you, but I'm not in love with you."

These tiny little words contain a universe of meaning. And for goodness sakes, it's just damned confusing. The Greeks had different words for friendly love (φιλία) and romantic love (έρως), and even "true" love (αγάπη). English really should take advantage of these very important distinctions. Also lacking, in just about every language that I know (which is nothing to sneer at) is a word that describes exactly how Catullus feels:

odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?
nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.

I hate and I love. Why do I do this, perhaps you ask?
I know not, but I feel it happening and I am tortured.

And with this elegiac couplet, we can understand every single Johnny Cash song a bit better.