The Unswung Bat

Thursday, March 17, 2005
 
Try to Believe

On second thought, I've decided not to take as a tangible metaphor the refusal of a revolving-booth turnstile to allow me to pass, but its permission in, seconds after I left to walk to the other side of the station, of a friend.

What does the turnstile open into? The Heaven bus? What number is that? I tend to go around on foot alot anyway, I know the city from pointless wanderings down pointless streets.

But I've decided, on second thought, not to take it that way.

I'm walking amongst small frustrations of all the things I've failed as yet to become. Little pieces, margins, and the untended peripheries of my life, wanting a center that has shifted beyond their access. But there's something more in the picture and it's good.

A moment of that confused and cloudy knowing that can almost always only be clarified in writing passed over me, and I composed a poem. We will see.

Try sometime to go find the song "Try to Believe" by Danny Elfman. It's not the Danny Elfman you know. It's still raucous and to some extent unpurposed mayhem, but also some very different things. Now I'm the sort of person who doesn't trust any happy thing wrought by an individual over the age of three unless it also has somewhere in it a sadness mixed in - and I'm not cynical in that way. The opposite also holds very much true: things never are even close to being all bad. Well anyway, that's pretty much what I like about the song. It could have been another dismal ballad, but instead it acts differently and is this big, loud, dancing song. What I like about it is this person who feels so immensely unworthy, shrugs, and says, well, I don't care, I am going to try for grace. More or less plainly just like that. It's inevitably a little cheesy, of course, but a hell of a lot better than the trucksfull of "serious" songs that capture so much attention.

Anyway, this is really just a thought. The sound card on my computer is dead.



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