A Joke Of You And Me. Joyous realizations of life on easy street…

Timing is everything

There is no high like this high. You scour the drugstores, spending your twilight hours bumping into like-minded souls who want only to find something that works faster. The morning slides sloppily into frame each day, as if it were poorly drawn on some warped overhead projector. And all things, instead of themselves, represented by their particles and the symbols used to make them easy. I have been wondering about it. I have been sitting in the isles eyeballing the components, wondering what’s to mix and what’s not to. Surely something must work. Surely the whole world does not sleep to spite a pitiful few. I have been wondering about many things. I have been thinking of you.
We two are here on this island. We two, despite our lack of smarts, should have known better. We will struggle to find a way to escape this. Perhaps we will find it. There is no high like this high. I am better for having been here. The question is you.

How Stupid The World?

You decide.

(Random excerpts from mail received at matt@matthewgoodband.com—July, 2000)

—You will burn in hell for your blasphemy. Jesus loves all people but I am afraid that he will never love you.

—I just spent the last couple of hours reading your manifestos. You make no sense. You should try reading some good books to get an idea of what people want to read. Like Danielle Steele books.

—Dear Mr. Good. You are a loud mouth and should be ashamed of not loving Canada. I assume that you have a problem with Canada since you didn’t bother to even go and pick up your Juno awards at the Junos. Canadians are supposed to be known for being polite but you just give Canadians a bad name. I used to like your band a lot but won’t listen to your CDs anymore because of your attitude. You should remember that bands need people to buy their records and that it is not in your best interest to make them angry. PS: Ian is hot.

—Why don’t you just shut up about things you don’t know anything about. Our Lady Peace is an excellent band and much more talented than you’ll ever be. You haven’t put out a good CD since Under The Table & Dreaming anyway.

That’s why there was an idiot in 1-900-Idiot-Savant. To be honest, I really don’t miss it much. I find that I have more time to blaspheme this way.

A Joke Of You And Me

I have been told that I am missed. I have been told that I have become unentertaining in my old age. The difference between these two statements is that the latter is a common one amongst those who procure such journals as this to pore over various accounts of the fire-breathing sheepdogs and gibbons that I have trained in hopes of cornering the transcontinental personal courier market. The first I simply said to myself.
Is there a point to it all? A question for a million years, a million prior, and for all mankind unanswerable. As for these things, well, I used to believe that the benefit of the doubt was something that hope created simply to humour us into thinking that a commonality existed between all people. Arrogance exists when the presumption of greatness exceeds empathy, transforming the much touted principles of individualism into the creation of solitary existences. Individualism is arrogance in that it creates a void between individuals attempting to bridge the gaps between themselves. To possess uniqueness is useless without first having someone to share it with and, secondly, having the ability to appreciate it in others. But we have never been exposed to the factors of a divided existence. Until now, that is. We find ourselves in an era of absolute solitude, a state of being that has transformed individuality into something that no longer possesses the qualities of self-assurance and self-dignity. Instead it is something that is thrown about by people in an attempt to disguise their need for something altogether terrifying. The realization that others are needed to fill the gaps in themselves. In ages past this realization was quite clearly understood by most. Convenience has seen to it that the human infrastructure will be made to suffer in the wake of its own desire to be more expediently and easily catered to.

We are used. We are a society of used individuals who are coddled by the warm radiation of television and the voyeuristic thrills of cyberspace. We exist in a vacuum that has taught our children to complain about the rights of the individual while instilling in them the need to consume, to achieve, to dominate. This occurs because we are on top of our game. It occurs because, beyond us, there is nothing save the view. Just the cheap seats to look upon and utilize for our own ends. My running shoes were manufactured in Pakistan by an eleven-year-old. An eleven-year-old who supposedly cares for nothing save the company’s new air-flow system and whether or not it will help propel me to greatness as I dart from my apartment to my car, late as usual. The naïve have always believed that simple solutions exist to deter such things in our nature. Whether they be socialistic views or those of the extreme right, most fail to realize that the drug of power is stronger than good intentions. It matters little what you call it—capitalism, socialism, communism, democracy, gods and goddesses. It has been said that absolute power corrupts absolutely. If so, then a little corruption must go a long way. The danger inherent in believing yourself to be beyond corruption is that you must first believe that, given the opportunity, you could do better. This is impossible, of course, as absolute power corrupts absolutely, leaving a little to go a long way. Therefore, realizing that there is nothing to be done about it, it leaves your skin feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. Try some and you’ll agree, there’s no better brand than the one that was handmade by Chilean craftsmen from herbs and flowers grown on the slopes of the Andes. We have been lying to ourselves and getting away with it nicely. And so we should be. Welcome to the new world. Made in China for twenty-six percent less than we originally paid to have it produced in Pittsburgh. We hope you like it.

Everything Is Timing

I woke up this morning, it’s been difficult as of late. I am convinced that I have been infected with an incurable malady. Everyone tells me that I am imagining it. So I have stopped listening.

I’ve taken to wandering my house in a three-piece suit, waiting for the doorbell to ring. I will be ready when they come for me. I have been ready for weeks. I have come to realize that if you spend enough time watching things that would have otherwise gone unnoticed, you will begin to realize that you are the keeper of a terrible secret.

Yourself.

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