distributedlife » writing

drabble (4/26)

Ryan Boucher — Mon, 23 Feb 2009 13:55:38 +0000

A friend requested that my next drabble be a happier. This is the result:

Within an instant my hands go clammy. A thin film of sweat creeps across my body. Moments later it becomes a flood. My life flashes before my eyes. Heart stops beating. Mouth, dry and tongue sticking to the roof. It cannot form the words for the answer I need. Vision collapses in and the question comes again, louder. This time it’s clearer. The answer is there in my head. I know this, I’ve always known this. Thump goes my heart, palms dry up, vision returns. The most beautiful sight I’ve seen. My mouth moves with its own purpose.

I do.

Brooke Fraser – Scarlet (7/52)

Ryan Boucher — Sun, 15 Feb 2009 14:02:10 +0000

I stumbled across Brooke Fraser on the album She Will Have Her Way – The Songs of Tim and Neil Finn. The album is a series of covers by female Australian and New Zealander female artists who felt strongly about or were influenced by the writing of Tim and Neil Finn. Both of whom were creative forces in Crowded House.

Brooke Fraser sung a version of Distant Sun and it’s a great cover and she has a fantastic voice. Her cover bugged me for a while, back then her omission of a few lines from the original I thought were ok even if it did break the flow of the song. Her cover omits the following line as though being a Christian and uttering those words would make her any less a Christian.

Like a Christian fearing vengeance from above

On a hunch I went out and bought Brooke Fraser’s first album What to do with Daylight and liked half of it. I didn’t know it at the time but Brooke Fraser’s music is overly religious for my tastes. Some of it isn’t or is so well written such that one doesn’t feel like they are praying as they sing along. I don’t mind songwriters being religious but I don’t want to sing about how great their god is. If they can do it with cleverly written metaphors and abstractions then I am happy.

‘Wait a minute’ you may wonder, what is the difference between my dislike for a singer who omits the words that make her seem less Christian as though her god would actually be vengeful and someone who doesn’t like to sing along with song that are in effect prayers to a god? Not much really. I don’t like to sing along with religious songs because it means nothing to me. The same energy and love that they direct towards their god I cannot. I believe that you sing along to the songs you know and love because at some level they mean something to you. To do anything else would be a lie. This is why I only like half the album and this is why Brooke Fraser didn’t include the lines from Distant Sun.

Scarlet was one of the better songs on What to do with Daylight. It is an amazing song. It’s a haunting solo piece accompanied by piano. I used to listen to it on my headphones before going to sleep. The problem was that I got to a point where I couldn’t sleep for wanting to listen to the song again. I was going to list the lyrics at the end of the article but in the end they won’t do the song justice. To truly experience the song the same way I do you should put it onto your music player; pop the headphones in. It doesn’t have to be loud but background noise needs to be blocked out. Put it on repeat and go to bed, draw the curtains and turn the lights out. Lie there in the dark and listen.

You may now be asking how this relates to me? The song speaks of exposure, revealing oneself to the world. Showing our true selves and not talking behind a facade of propriety or indoctrinated behaviours appropriate our gender, age or ethnicity. It is about someone who can’t reveal who she truly is because people know her. They might cast judgement upon her. To escape is to go somewhere else, somewhere where people do not know her name. There she slowly reveals who she is even though she has to fight herself to do so. But in the end she has to close herself in because it’s not the people that judge her but the culture around her.

How does this relate to me? Right now, the biggest blocker I have to my published writing is having people cast aspersions upon me based on what I write. The psychology of the person is based upon interpreting what is said or written. How I choose to interpret implies an underlying psyche. But when I write I try to see life from various viewpoints. It all comes from my head but is it all me. At some point I need to get beyond that and just not care.

No, Scarlet didn’t always mean this to me and won’t always will. Aside from the odd tense the previous sentence Scarlet is a beautiful song irrespective of the meaning.

Crowded House – Distant Sun (6/52)

Ryan Boucher — Sun, 15 Feb 2009 13:52:32 +0000

The air is cool but not so cold that ice forms on your breath. Clouds mottle the sky with greys filling every space until no blue can be found. The sun tries to force its way through but isn’t strong enough. Looking out through the window only the broadest trees have shadows, all others stick up out of the hushed tones that form the ground. Their own colours also subdued by the perfectly even light filling every crease in every leaf.

A gentle wind winds its way around each tree ruffling its leaves but not pushing it around. Had you been standing out there the wind would wrap your coat around your legs to make sure you’re warm but wouldn’t halt your progress. A faint scent appears on the tip of your nose. Pleasant and refreshing it builds as a soft rain starts to fall. Silently it falls from the clouds. Each drop is cool on your skin but not enough to make you run for cover.

Inside a fire has been started and it pops and cracks with beautiful irregularity that only dancing flames can create. The house is toasty and the heat makes you feel good. Your body warmed by the fire, your soul by the music coming from the lounge. The song has just begun and you know the words. You start to sing.

Tell me all the things you would change

I don’t pretend to know what you want

When you come around and spin my top

Time and again, time and again

Crowded House songs are something that many Australians and New Zealanders born around my time share. Our parents loved the Crowdies and while we may not know the names of the songs when one comes on we know all the words. Crowded House songs give us a chance to remove the shackles of introverted behaviour that may otherwise constrain us. We sing and dance with strangers we’ve only just met but know that we share a common part of our pasts.

Any one of the Crowded House songs could have been the focus of this story but in the end I picked Distant Sun for one reason. The lyrics in the song are wonderful. They talk about love, relationships and overcoming the mistakes and failures of the past. The best line is the last non-chorus line of the song:

I don’t pretend to know what you want
But I offer love

It is such a wonderful statement about being honest in love.

Listening to Crowded House with friends, to me, evokes the same emotions as cooler weather. Hot temperatures push us apart lest we overheat while open fires, jumpers and a chill in the air pull us together for that little bit of extra warmth. It’s something that I find great comfort in. It makes me feel like home.

regrets – (drabble 3/26)

Ryan Boucher — Sun, 08 Feb 2009 14:58:46 +0000

He sat in the bar and looked over the pints that were on the table. His pint was empty, the others full. They always were. Every Sunday he would perform his ritual. Sometimes he would be silent, often he would cry softly.

Whenever asked he say that the pints belong to his wife and son who used to join him every Sunday for afternoon drinks.

After three pints he would get up and leave, driving home. Each time he hoped he would not make it. Each time he hoped to repeat the fateful day when his wife and son didn’t.

Short Story 1/12 – Chad

Ryan Boucher — Thu, 05 Feb 2009 15:20:26 +0000

What follows is my first short story. I will withhold all self-doubt until next sometime after the next story where I’ll include a writers commentary where I will talk about what I did and didn’t like and other things like motivation, etc. I have produced a PDF version which is available here. I recommend not printing it out for the sake of a few trees.

Comments are closed due to a surprisingly large volume of spam.

It is a dark and stormy night. Aren’t they all? They are when anything interesting is happening. And tonight, judging by the rain, would be most interesting. The rain cascades down onto the street. I stand out under the street light. I try to look as though the rain doesn’t bother me. It did for a while but I am numb by this point. The glare hurts my eyes but I need to be seen. I want a cigarette. To feel the smoke in my lungs. The tension flowing out of my body. The wave of calm. As if to spite me the rain comes down harder. I hate this rain.

All of this; the rain, the filthy street corner; was all to do with a bitch called Lucy. Why is this street corner still filthy? It’s rained for three days. I guess some places don’t wash clean.

I need a cigarette.

I should have bought a drink to keep my mind off the habit. I’ll get one later.

A light comes on. The third floor of the building across the street. The light I was waiting for. The curtains are pulled back and there stands Lucy. She looked down at me. I smile and walked out of the light, in to the dark, rained filled, street. Now to find that drink I promised myself. And a smoke. That’ll be first.

***

The bar is empty and unremarkable.

“I’ll take a whisky”. The barman already has the bottle in hand. Looking at the shelves there isn’t much else. I light up a cigarette.

“Hey, you can’t smoke that filthy shit in here.” Barks the barman as soon as I light up.

“Why not?”. I mean why not?

“It’s against the law. If you want to smoke, do it outside with the rest of the trash.”

“It’s raining.” Is all I say and sit down. Cigarette still in my mouth.

“Out the back there is cover. Use it or fuck off.”

“Fine.” I grab my whisky and walk out back. The barman isn’t lying. There was cover here. He just didn’t tell me I had to walk through the rain to get to it. By the time I am there my cigarette is soaked. I give it a look before flicking it away. If I’m going to be out here I may as well have two. I should have brought more whisky. I light up my first of two cigarettes and think about Lucy.

I think about her in her warm little apartment. I wondered if she would come for a drink. I hope she does.

***

Lucy stood in my apartment surveying the decrepit existence that I was enjoying. My place is a filthy dive but it’s my place. I like it here.

“Can I offer you a seat?”

She pulled out a chair from the table at which I sat. She sat down and then reached up and pushed the light that hung from the ceiling. It swung back and forth in the room pushing the shadows about.

“This place is a dive.” She said. The light was still swinging back and forth. Why had she done that?

“I kinda like it here.”

“I can help you make it a little bit more…” she searched for the word… “comfortable and a little bit less…” she paused again. “vile.”

“You make it more comfortable by getting the fuck out.” I was sick of her already. I didn’t even know what she was doing here. I hate losing my temper but she was pushing the right buttons.

Lucy threw a wad of cash on the table.

“A little something to line your pillow at night. All you need to do is…”

Was this pausing for effect or because she really couldn’t think of the words? She finished her sentence.

“…kill someone for me.”

I picked up the wad of cash and thumbed through it. The notes were all tattered but they were all real.

“Who? By when? And any special messages?”

***

As Lucy had promised the door was unlocked. I eased it open and it moved silently. The girl had oiled the hinges. Once the door was closed I paused and listened for sounds.

Silence.

After letting my eyes adjust I surveyed the room. It was a nice place with high ceilings and wooden floors but at the same time stark. It was like the removal company had come in the day before and had taken all the large furnishings. Smaller items were stacked in piles on the floor.

Before heading to the bedroom where Sophia slept, I went to the lounge window and peeked outside. No movement. I had checked at the street and it looked the same. A set-up was never fun to get out of.

I moved silently into the house trying to remember the floor plan. The lounge was connected to the dining room which adjoined the kitchen. Both the lounge and dining ran parallel to the hallway.

On the kitchen bench was a large duffel bag. It was open, I peered inside and there was a single piece of paper that contained the details for a bank account. There was nothing else. I put the piece of paper in my pocket and stepped out of the kitchen and into the hall. The hall was a sight to behold. All the furniture had been stacked and interlaced down the hall. It was going to be a nightmare to get past this mess.

I picked up a chair and move it out of the way. It groaned as I set it down.

“I know why you are here.” came a call from the room at the end of the hall.

“Sophia?” I asked. I may as well find out who I am talking to.

“I have a better deal for you.” She didn’t directly answer my question. “It is more than what Lucy offered you. In the kitchen is a bag and inside bank account details.”

I broke my silence. “I found that on the way to your hedgehog hallway. What’s to stop me from killing you now and taking your offering as a bonus?”

“You have to get here first, I have a mobile and the money won’t be transferred until I say. I can do that now but not until you agree, not to kill me.”

What a mess. I have a bad feeling about this and get the urge to walk away. I am not sure how to do that though, either. Lucy and Sophia both know now who I am.

“Alright” I agreed. I couldn’t care who paid me the most. I never agreed not to double cross anyone.

“I have a problem now.” said Sophia. “I need Lucy killed for obvious reasons and I don’t have an alibi.”

“If you want me to kill Lucy as well as not killing you then that will be extra”. This could turn into a good days pay.

Sophia came out of the bedroom. She was unarmed. Wearing an olive collared shirt and jeans, her hair was pushed back into a pony tail. “Agreed. I’ll pay the standard rate for Lucy.” She said and pulled out her phone and pressed buttons for a few minutes. After a short while she stopped and said “We need to burn this place.”

“Why? Apart from the current decorations, it’s a nice place.”

“I can’t come back to this home. Once Lucy is gone, this place which we share, I won’t want to live in.” With that she continued pressing buttons for another minute.

“Done. You can access the half the funds tomorrow. The rest I will transfer after this is over.”

Sophia headed for the kitchen and ignited the gas stove. She then took a box of matches and some lighter fluid and set fire to the pile of furniture in the hallway. It took a while to get started but once it had the entire hallway was aflame in minutes. The wooden floor aided its advance.

I fired a couple of rounds into the bedroom door. I then used the house phone to call up the police and reported gunshots and that I saw flames coming from the apartment.

We walked out of the house. I keep Sophia in front of me the whole time. I direct her to my beat up little Toyota. Sophia gets in without regard for the rubbish all over the floor and backseat. I had expected her to be reviled by the state of it all. Perhaps Sophia was not always rich.

* * *

I let Sophia into my home. She walked around it lifting up old newspapers and magazines, surveying the state of it all. Cosy was all she said. I wasn’t sure if she meant the size or because my apartment is next to the building’s heating unit. It made my apartment warmer. It helped during these rainy days.

Sophia sat herself down on the couch. “We need a plan” she said to me. “A way to lure Lucy into a trap without her knowing.”

“How will she know? Or does Lucy know already that you will try to kill her?”

“She may, but this may be easier… There is a bar not too far from where Lucy’s new playgirl lives. If we can get her to go there…”

A new playgirl. Rejection is hard but these two play harder than most.

“Take these matches” Sophia said to me and flicked a box of matches to me. “Put them on the table. When Lucy sees them she will understand.”

“How is Lucy going to see them in my apartment?”

“Lucy is a cop. She is probably framing you right now for my murder. It won’t be long before she’s here with the rest of her team.”

I couldn’t believe it. A cop. I got up and paced around. My house. What do I need to take?

“Get what you need and we’ll wait across the street so you can see for yourself… “ and she paused… ”just in case you don’t believe me”.

I went into the bedroom and picked up my stack of family photos. Once that was done I was ready to leave. I didn’t have much. That was both comforting and depressing at the same time. I know I can just walk away. I’m not tied down to a life, a room, a job. I realise that I’ve spent a lot of money on whisky and smokes.

I dropped the matches on the table under the light. I followed Sophia out of my house, locking the door as I left. I managed to get a chair to rest under the doorknob on the inside. I chuckled to myself as I did. It would cause someone some grief.

***

The police tried to smash the door down. The lock gave but the chair didn’t. The first officer was winded. I chuckled to myself. Sophia said they would be here and they were. I looked across at her. She was pretty, not beautiful. In this light you could mistake her for beautiful though. She didn’t look at me. She just kept watching the scene that was unfolding in the building across the street. My building. My floor. My apartment.

They went through each room. Lights on. I had already taken the curtains down so we could watch what was going on. Lucy stood next to my kitchen table flicking the match book in her fingers while the officers smashed the place apart. They didn’t find anything else.

I could do with a smoke right now. I reach for them but Sophia’s hand is already there. It’s soft but she is firm, halting my progress.

“It’s a vile habit.” She said. “They may see the glowing embers.”

She was right. I made a mental note that I would have a cigarette as soon as this was done.

***

I am on my tenth cigarette when Lucy walks out of the bar, gun in hand, pointed at me. I have a bottle of whisky next to me that is almost empty. Apart from this little episode it has been a good night. I probably should have been ready for her.

“You may want to finish that bottle. You won’t be getting any more.” And without even waiting for me to start drinking Lucy shot me in the leg. The pain races through my body. My eyes start to water, this is intense. I have never been shot before.

“Drop the gun, Lucy.” Sophia calls from the shadows. Lucy spins, gun in hand, Sophia doesn’t take the risk. Her shotgun already pointed into Lucy’s midsection she fires. Lucy goes down. I am on the ground by this point, whisky in one hand, gun in the other.

Sophia walks up to where Lucy is curled up on the ground rocking back and forth holding her stomach. Lucy doesn’t make a sound. I’m not sure she could. Sophia kicks her gun over to me. I don’t pick it up. I have mine and my free hand has whisky. I drink what is left. It doesn’t help with the pain. I don’t think I can walk. I don’t try. Sophia walks over to me keeping one eye on Lucy. She takes the whisky bottle from the table and has a long gulp.

Sophia sits down on the ground next to me. We share a drink of whisky. Lucy lay on the ground moaning softly. Tears are streaming down her face. It smears her makeup. She bites her lower lip and holds it. Her mouth has frothed from trying to deal with the pain.

Sophia places her glass on the ground. She aims the shotgun and fires. Lucy is dead. It was brutal. Sophia empties the remaining shells on the ground and places the gun beside me. I pour myself another drink.

“We probably should get me to a hospital”. I tell Sophia.

“We will. I just need to say my goodbye.” She picks up Lucy’s gun and walks over to her body. She kneels down next to the corpse and runs her hand along Lucy’s body and through her hair. Lucy’s hair is a mess of blood and has matted together.

Sophia reaches into Lucy’s pockets and pulls out a packet of smokes. She checks inside and then tosses the packet to me.

“It’s a vile habit but I think you need one more now, than the ten you had earlier.” She says.

She is right. I do need one. It hasn’t stopped raining but my head is undercover. I light up a cigarette and smoke it as slowly as I can. The pain in my leg is intense but this makes it just a little easier.

“Let’s go now.” I say. My smoke is finished. My leg isn’t getting any better.

“Yes let’s go.” Responds Sophia.

I start to get up when Sophia points Lucy’s gun at me and fires. This pain is worse now. The leg is nothing. It is fine.

Sophia fires again.

Live – White, Discussion (5/52)

Ryan Boucher — Wed, 04 Feb 2009 13:55:07 +0000

The way you’re bathed in light reminds me of that night God laid me down into your rose garden of trust. And I was swept away with nothing left to say. Some helpless fool yet I was lost, in a swoon of peace you’re all I need to find. So when the time is right. Come to me sweetly, come to me.

Those are the intro lyrics from The Dolphin’s Cry[1] by Live and part of the reason why I like Live. The rhythmic lyrics flow off the tongue. They are not the best lyrics by Live, but the best to use as an opening paragraph.

After that verse they go on about water, life, religion and fish. Mainly fish and water which may be excused when the song is called The Dolphin’s Cry but it is a trend that can be experienced by listening to the Live catalogue in chronological order.

It’s no secret that I like Live, I would not be writing about them if I didn’t, but each album gets happier and happier. Perhaps because I like the Secret Samadhi album the most and it is the darkest. I like happy songs and am not some angst filled melancholic vampire living in a cellar who can only live vicariously through the haunting dirges of others. Happy songs can easily be shallow[2] while people who experience chronic depression get so into their depression they know every nook and cranny. This allows them to write about it so exquisitely. It could also be that the range of words English has for positive emotions is fewer than the available words for negative emotions. Someone should look that up.

All bands change over time and whether or not I follow them in their path is irrelevant. I prefer their earlier work and this is what I intend to talk about. The Distance to Here is the album that contains The Dolphin’s Cry and is the last album the produced that I like most of the songs off.

Secret Samadhi is my favourite. It has a dark feel and a hectic scattering of great and poor lyrics. It all holds together though. Some of the best songs are Graze, Ghost, Century, Freaks and Lakini’s Juice. Turn My Head, which was the song that made me fall in love with Secret Samadhi in the first place. I nearly wrote this piece about Turn My Head but in the end a different song won out. I’ll get to White, Discussion later.

I loved Turn My Head because I could never quite work out what it was about. If you know me and my competitive nature I love and respect a challenge. Obtuse lyrics won’t get you in the door. I care little for Octopuses Garden. At this point I think that is about someone who uses her beauty, is worshipped and eventually falls as she succumbs to her own delusional power. I could be wrong though.

The first experience I ever had with Live was in high school. A friend had the album and he played it to me. Lightning Crashes got a great going over as it was the single at the time, as did Iris and a few other of the singles. I remember hearing the Dam at Otter Creek and being quietly blown away. I loved that song from the moment I heard it. It was everything I loved in a song. Excellent progression, lots of drums and energy.

For some reason The Dam at Otter Creek wasn’t one of my friend’s favourites, or even liked. I remember the album always started at track 2. I should have ended up an angsty teenage vampire. I remembered it though and later replaced everyone’s albums with copies that would play The Dam at Otter Creek on all tracks. Just Kidding, I kept it close until many years later I got a copy of the album. The first thing I did was put on that song and crank it.

Loud.

Before I had a chance to love that song I loved Pillars of Davidson. I don’t know what it is about the longer songs but four minutes isn’t enough time to save the world and it’s not enough time for most songs. Longer songs don’t win at parties though. Everyone wants a turn on the jukebox and Freebird isn’t going to get a show in. The best part about Pillars of Davidson is the finale where the chorus comes in and we all sing along. It’s like Hey Jude but more complicated because there are lyrics.

So once again I had to secret my favourite songs away from society. Keeping them locked in a cave away where none one can hear, my Precious.

Other notables for me, from that album, are T.B.D. and White, Discussion. Both of which are not on the short list. T.B.D is only four and a half minutes long but is such a chilled track at the start that most people move on, while White, Discussion is loud, distorted and angry.

A common theme amongst the Live tracks on the album I liked is that they started slowly or softly and built up to energetic crescendo. A progression is always good and a strong ending worthwhile. It also means that once you get into the rhythm you can go nuts to finish it off.

White, Discussion was always the lesser of favourites for many years. Until I saw Live play in Canberra in 2003. They played a version of White, Discussion that went on forever and then some. Six minutes became ten. The drums kept coming and the guitars got louder and more adventurous. Ed Kowalcyzk just screamed louder until there was nothing else to hear except the distortion of guitars resting against amplifiers. It was phenomenal.

It was the same experience I had with Reptile and Nine Inch Nails. A song that was good became unbelievable. I’ve never heard that version since but each time I put on White, Discussion I go back to the concert and remember the song how it was once. Not once was, but was once.

[1] I make no apologies about the quality of their film clips.

[2] Shiny Happy People by R.E.M. – the obvious exception

2/26 drabble – reverse psychology

Ryan Boucher — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 13:55:15 +0000

“You don’t want to be friends?” There was a tremor her voice.

“I want to be friends. I just don’t want you to think you have to be friends because we’ve broken up and you think it the right thing to do. In the end we never call or see each other. What is the point? Let’s cut to the chase. If you want to be friends, we will be friends. Otherwise, let’s not stand on ceremony.

“Let’s be friends.” she said.

I never heard nor saw her again. Such a shame, I would have like to have been friends.

The Music – New Instrumental

Ryan Boucher — Sat, 24 Jan 2009 16:00:37 +0000

Writing a music story about an instrumental is probably not the easiest task in the world. Writing a music story about an instrumental that most people haven’t heard, even those that own the album the song is on, is going to be even harder. As a matter of fact; I’ve not heard the original of this song in several years now and I own the album. Each year it gets harder to find somewhere to listen to the song.

In 2003, I embarked on my Whirlwind Tour of Australia. I was going overseas the following year and wanted to make sure I had seen at least some of Australia before I left. So in just under three weeks I was to see Canberra, Sydney, Broken Hill, Adelaide, Kalgoorlie, Perth, Fremantle, Uluru, Alice Springs, Adelaide and Melbourne and a whole bunch of scenery in between. There was only one flight in all of that. Anyone who has done the Melbourne to Canberra bus-ride knows that I should have had two flights.

I had just arrived in Sydney and it was about midday. My train to Perth via Adelaide was due to leave about three hours later. I had already successfully ‘lost’ my watch to the dodgy guy next to me on the bus. It was only a $50 watch but it was still annoying. For some reason I like to start every trip with a lost possession. Scotland the following year it was my Ray-Bans.

I spent a few hours wandering around Sydney. Poking my head into shops, not buying anything and looking much the tourist. My soundtrack for this part of the trip was The Music’s self titled album. I had borrowed a friend’s CD player just for the trip. The sound quality was much better than the old no name brand I had at home. The Music’s album is great; I still love it today. Some of the more popular tracks still grate from the high playing frequency they endured on commercial radio. Other tracks like “The Dance”, “Take the Long Road and Walk It”, “Human”, “Float”, “Turn out the Light” and “Too High” are still great songs.

The first half of the album is excellent. “The Dance” starts of the album with an excellent distorted guitar intro setting up the album. “Take the Long Road and Walk it” follows up with some lyrics you can sing to. It can be hard to make out what the lead singer is saying in some tracks. “Float” is a song that initially appears weak in comparison to its neighbours but the longer the song goes on the better it gets. It reaches its crescendo before abruptly stopping and making way for the very chilled out and very good “Turn out the Light”.

I was sitting in the train station using one of the chair filled waiting rooms. It was empty. There were plenty of rooms and not that many travellers. The CD player was in my bag as I had probably just bought some food to eat. I could hear some music playing so I pulled out the headphones and had a listen to see if I would finish listening to the track. When I put the headphones in I couldn’t work out the track. It didn’t even sound familiar. I had to look into the CD case to work out whether I was listening to that CD. I kept listening to the end of the track and was blown away at how good the song was. Six minutes of excellent guitar and drums.

Towards the end of the song I noticed it was track one but the times were in the negatives. Somehow, whilst in my bag, the buttons had been pressed to rewind the first song. That was really a piece of random luck. On top of this was the random luck I had to hear the song before the first song kicked in and the chance was missed. I rewound the CD and had another listen. Just as good the first time. I think I listened to it four or five times before picking up my mobile and sending a message to everyone I knew that had the album.

Most of them, even some people that didn’t have my name, just a random number on their phone, found the album and put it on. About six or so minutes later I started getting some responses. “That track is sweet.”, “nice 1″ and ”I don’t know who you are but thanks!”

Rather than sending another message I rewound the first track again. Closed my eyes and listened.

Why is this track so hard to play? I no longer have that CD player. It’s more than five years since that trip. I don’t have any CD players that can rewind the first track, or play the pregap as it is called. The number of people I know that can play it is diminishing as well. There is a live version on YouTube I have linked to. It’s not as good quality as the CD version but it’s better than not hearing it at all.

Bob Dylan – Not Dark Yet

Ryan Boucher — Sun, 18 Jan 2009 13:55:53 +0000

Dylan doesn’t speak to me. Not anymore. Now, he doesn’t even pick up the phone when I call. He probably doesn’t speak to my generation either. Not in the way he spoke to the previous generations. History tells me that Dylan was the voice of the American counterculture of the sixties. Something about the civil rights movement. At this point I’m just reading off the Wikipedia article.

That is where I find Dylan now, in the history books. I was never there; I wasn’t even born near there. Robin Williams once said that if you can remember the sixties you were not there.

I own some of Dylan’s music, I don’t have every album but I’ve got the important songs. The ones I need to recognise when a montage of the sixties is being shown on the Simpsons. Sixties montages is Dylan and California Dreamin’ from the Mamma’s and Pappas, Seventies is Credence Clearwater Revival and Fortunate Son.

To some extent, I think it is hard to be a Dylan fan when you weren’t born in his era. There is an expectation that one knows his music and to like his music. When we talk about Dylan’s music the songs on the first half of the compilation spring to mind; Blowin’ in the Wind, Like a Rolling Stone, Subterranean Homesick Blues, etc.

I like the aforementioned songs and others. I just don’t feel the same about them as someone who experienced the sixties. There is a difference between lyrics and lyrics with a deeper contextual meaning. Anyone can appreciate great lyrics. Not everyone gets the contextual meaning. You have to experience it first hand and only first hand.

One day I bought The Essential Bob Dylan collection for surprisingly little. I love finding an album or compilation for less than $10. The price is right and I get to expand my music collection. It had the usual Dylan on the first disc while the second contained, to me, some new Dylan.

One of the songs was Not Dark Yet.

This song made a difference to how I see Dylan. I bought the compilation because I know I needed to have Dylan in my collection. I liked Dylan and I didn’t really own much. In the end I don’t play Dylan much, except for this one song.

I can’t quite articulate what I like about this song. What I can say is that I like this song because of the little lyrical effort that was needed to conjure up the atmosphere. As a writer this is a skill I want to learn. I would spend several hundred words just to say what Dylan said in the first two lines.

Shadows are fallin’ and I’ve been here all day

It’s too hot to sleep and time’s is running away

In the end Not Dark Yet, out of all the songs that Dylan has written, I like the best. It is a both a song that I appreciate and understand and one that I did on my own terms. I wasn’t told to like it.

This is my Bob Dylan. It’s not tied to history; not to be interpreted as a protest song. It’s just a great song by a great singer-songwriter.

Holly Throsby – Berlin Chair

Ryan Boucher — Sun, 11 Jan 2009 13:57:19 +0000

7:45 AM – the radio starts up. The disc jockeys are yabbering on about something. It’s not funny and I don’t care. Press the button, seven minutes more sleep. 7:52 AM – and they start again. I still don’t care and it’s still not funny. 7:59 AM – and we cut to the news. My clock is slow. A war is going on somewhere. A politician has reneged on a promise or maybe there was a scandal. Is anyone surprised anymore? Why are people shocked? Generation Y – Why are taking this constant barrage of lies, control and corruption from government and corporations. 8:09 AM – and the disc jockey introduces a new ‘Like a Version’. These are usually pretty good. This one is by Holly Throsby. She’s kind of cute. It’s the radio but I may just listen in.

I don’t know how much of that last paragraph was true but the snooze button and Holly Throsby singing on ‘Like a Version’ were true. She sung Berlin Chair which is a You Am I song. For a period three and a half minutes I lay in my bed hoping that song wouldn’t end.

I had never heard the original version by You Am I. I hear people call it a great Australian rock song. I listen to it now and to me just not as good as Holly’s. Their voices are muffled, the track seems rushed.

I had never heard the original version by You Am I. I hear people call it a great Australian rock song. I listen to it now and to me just not as good as Holly’s. Perhaps because I heard it first, but probably because I think the You Am I version sounds rushed. They race through the song. It is not all bad for You Am I as I will concede that although Holly is better looking than Tim Rogers, the film clip for the You Am I version is much better. You can watch it here.

I’ve listened to this song a lot and even now I can listen to it twenty to thirty times, sometimes more, in succession without tiring of it. I think that, at some level, I can relate to the characters in the song; the pride, the fear of failing and the uncertainty that accompanies said failure.

From what I understand and I may be wrong in my interpretation. The song is about a relationship between two people, both with many issues. The singer, with low self-esteem, is frequently failing to meet the expectations of the second person and this second person who has an internal struggle but too much pride to ask for help. The singer keeps pushing the limits of their relationship and failing openly. She knows that she isn’t perfect and at some level wants to show the second person that it’s ok to fail and that she is there for him. She will be there till she breaks. He need not fear that no-one will be there if he does fail.

With or without an underlying meaning, there are few lines that stand out to me. I can’t put my finger on why I like them. Perhaps it’s a meaning I understand but can’t explain. Perhaps they are just nice words in a sentence.

Take the chance to ignore what you’re going through

And the following line, which would have to be my favourite of the song.

I’m the re-run that you’ll always force yourself to sit through

I like this line, while it’s a little on the depressing side, has great imagery. It’s unclear whether he is watching her repeated failings out of undying love or an inaction that exists. Because to leave would essentially be leaving who he is.

Here is the link to Holly Throsby – Berlin Chair