This is little Julie
She is only eight
Julie plays with dolls
And thinks that Barbie’s great
She has scratches on her knees
And a wobbly tooth as well
Pink’s her favourite colour
Her life’s a living hell

This is Julie’s Mummy
Who left her at age four
Daddy used to hit her
And she walked out the door
Now when Daddy’s angry
Julie knows what Mummy meant
When all she wrote was sorry
In the letter that she sent

This is Julie’s bedroom
Where she goes at night
She stays in there with Barbie
When Daddy wants to fight
Cause no one ever finds her
Or hears her crying tears
She hides away from Daddy
And all her other fears

This is Julie’s Barbie
Which Daddy’s thrown away
Cause Julie didn’t hear him
When he called for her today
Now Julie is behaving
Because if she’s very good
Daddy will give Barbie back
Or at least he said he would

This is Julie’s bed
Where Barbie used to sleep
It’s where Julie lies
Where she goes to weep
After Daddy’s beaten her
So she can hardly move
Julie kneels down by her bed
And prays things will improve

This is Julie’s mess
That Daddy really hates
Julie tries to clean it
But already she’s too late
Daddy gets so angry
And hurts her everywhere
Julie did the wrong thing
So the punishment is fair.

This is Julie’s face
Today it’s got no smile
Cause Daddy hasn’t hit her
Not for quite a while
The next time might be worse
So she’ll do something wrong
She’ll be beaten very hard
But the waiting won’t be long

This is Julie’s nightmare
Why she can’t sleep at night
Waiting for Daddy’s footsteps
Shivering in fright
Julie has to stay there
There’s nowhere she can go
No one would believe her
Just pretend they didn’t know.

There are a few different things I thought were interesting about this documentary, which was the one with Billy and Uli John Roth. It began with Billy stating he was very untrusting of the media and that he doesn't like to give interviews because they are always about touring and lifestyle. This show was about art, which was why he agreed to do it.

Throughout the documentary, it was very clear he was aware of the media and how anything he said could be misinterpreted. This was kind of interesting; he later talked about how when SP went to record 'Gish', Butch Vig had said that only BC and JC were good enough players that he could make the music sound good. D'acry and James Iha had said this was fine with them, but when this became public, there began to be a negative feeling in the band. It made me wonder if this perception of the problem by the media had ended up resulting in the Billy-Ego theory.


They visited a modern art gallery and one of the major focuses was on a piece which was painted, but painted to look as though it was a digital photo; reality attempting to be a fake reality.

BC was saying that the audience appreciated being emotionally moved, but only if they are moved once; they are disappointed if they're moved again. They want to see the same thing, over and over. Instead of advancing with art, they want to remain, to a degree, stagnant, instead of always pushing further ahead. This being the case, art nowadays doesn't move us as it should. Uli said art was stuck in a rut; experimentation doesn't sell successfully, and therefore, is not accepted. If it isn't accepted, it doesn't get out, meaning we, as the audience to the art, whether music, paintings or otherwise, do not receive any new experiences from the art; we aren't moved in any new directions. There's no escape in what we find in regular music.

This section hit me pretty hard. If regular music doesn't five us any escape, does it mean we don't feel any need to escape? Are we satisfied with where we are in the world, not artistically, but emotionally? Or is it because we don't believe the opportunity for escape is there? For instance, we all know politicians lie, and often, we don't trust the people we vote to represent us. So why don't we stand up and do something about it? Why don't we change the system to allow us to be represented by the people who we do actually believe in? And if we did try, would we be written off as crazy conspiracy theorists? Do we need to conform?

We spend so much time upholding our own beliefs instead of considering the beliefs of others. Why?

And moving back to the modern art... It is open to interpretation, but in such a manner, it allows us to find in it what we want to find. It is open to interpretation, but to such an extent, it allows us to find what we already believe, meaning it upholds our ideals, instead of pushing us in a different direction to believe or to consider a statement we haven't considered previously.


BC and Uli also go to see wrestlers training. This was one of the most important parts of the documentary, although it didn't quite come off as it might have been expected. Uli mentions to BC that he knows he is interested in wrestling, and BC agrees; it is fake, but what the wrestlers do, in being able to throw each other in such a manner, to be able to fight without hurting each other, shows a talent he admires. It falls in with footage of BC and Uli jamming together; they need to be able to read what the other is doing in order to stay in touch with each other. It's a skill and a talent which BC admires.

And as great a guitarist as I think BC is, Uli leaves him for dead. The man is incredible!


They go to dinner together and talk about not being able to eat cheese, but this is hardly fascinating. BC talks about a sort of inner struggle for him as a writer. He says there are kind two sides of personality which are fighting for representation; it is kind of "Light vs. Dark" or "Acoustic vs. Heavy". Is he able to write a heavy song if it isn't what he feels in his personality? The art wouldn't work. The music needs to be an honest representation of who BC is and what he believes, otherwise it won't work. There's something, somewhere, about what BC was thinking when he was asked to write the songs for 'Batman'. In basics, he says he didn't know what a listener would expect in a Batman song and was having difficulties. Then, instead, he wrote about what he sees in Batman, and everything went right.

It's kind of out of the blue, but BC says that in an audience of 100,000, there are always at least 10,000 people who will hate him and he says it's very difficult going out on stage knowing this is the case. Uli talks to him about this, but they don't really go into much depth about it; it made me think though. Why do people go if they don't like the music? Do we want to see others fail? And thinking broadly, along the lines of the attacks we make on, for instance, Britney, and the way she's represented in the media with her mistakes so quickly
jumped on, it is kind of the reality. We want to see these people fail. In the case of the media, there's always joy when BC fails, and perhaps this representation is infective to the point where we go to concerts in the hope of seeing them fail. [This fits in with the thesis Amy Hanson has in her SP biography 'Tales of a Scorched Earth'.] However, I was also thinking that by seeing BC fail, it gives an affirmation of one's own position; it suggests that because BC is failing when doing something the non-fan does not or can not understand, it substantiates the non-fan's inability; even if he was able to do what BC does, it wouldn't matter as these abilities only lead to failure; don't push for something different, accept what exists; and of course, don't take art further, don't try for a different emotional expression, but accept what is already there and disagree with anything which is too new as it means your enjoyment of what exists is wrong. Inevitably, look as others as freaks instead of looking at yourself as shallow.

It's kind of ironic, but a lot of alternative music is not described as inaccessible. When there is an album which is embraced by the public, but written by a group who is alternative, the album is described as being more accessible than the majority of their work. Why does it matter if it's accessible? Isn't it better if it's 'inaccessible' and makes us think? Or, is thinking something which needs to be left in the past?

If you've read to the end of this, you can have a smiley face.

1.

Sleeplessness... It's one of those nights where at midnight, even after a long day, I can't get to sleep. 'The Pianist' is on television, and if anything should be enough to put me to sleep, it's television. As it is, 'The Pianist' is about the invasion of Poland. And, for some reason, I have the sound turned off and merely read the subtitles.

Freezing temperatures so there are frozen people on thes street. People so hungry that when they fight for food and it ends up on the ground, they go down on all fours to eat it. People in wheelchairs thrown from the fifth floor to land dead on the ground below. People randomly chosen and indiscriminately shot. People ridiculed and made fun of when forced to dance. The trains departing for the death camps and the protagonist who knows and understands where his family is going, but is helpless to stop it. Watching as his friend is forced to lie on the ground and wait while the person aiming a gun at his head reloads after killing the six people lying next to him have been shot. The friend is shot ad the protagonist can't do anything about it.

This should have brought about some kind of emotional disturbance in me. It didn't. Now, it would be easy to say that if the sound was turned on, it would have. Or, if it wasn't midnight, it would have. Or, if it was a better television. But it's not the case.

These are images which have been shown so many times before. Actually, I hadn't seen the frozen people image previously. They looked very realistic and blue. And dead.

2.

In a tobacco shop, there was a display of various pipes. There was also a cigarette case with a pop-art picture of Che Guevarra. And an ashtray with his picture. And a packet of cigarettes.

3.

It is in fact a mini-genre; Holocaust Literature. This isn't to say that the events shouldn't have been written about. This isn't to say that the films shouldn't have been made. This isn't to say that 'The Pianist' isn't a good film. It's just that once we've seen it all so many times before, it loses it's power. The books about Auschwitz can tell of the horrors, of carrying the dead back to the camp after a day because there would be people shot if they were short at the headcount. The cells. The rooms of hair. The rooms filled with glasses. The rooms filled with luggage. The stories about teeth being pulled and sold. About being told they were showers. Driven in the back of cars.

And once it's all been told, it becomes a reflex. "Do you want fries with that?" When the tourist guides at Auschwitz give anecdotes, do they think about what they say? Do they see the humanity any more? If people break down and cry, do they actually feel the sorrow any more? Do they feel anything or do they know when people will panic or scream or look away? Because it is the case with the literature. We know how people are supposed to feel when an innocent life is taken, especially if it's taken because of pure cruelty.

If we can create art where we know what the feeling is supposed to be on the reader or audience, where does it leave us? Are we robots? It is actually destroying our opportunity to feel and to make decisions about what we feel.

If the sound, and, especially, the music for the film had been audible, it would have been an even better indication of when to feel sad, when to feel tense, when to feel agitated. It would have left even less scope to make a decision.

4.

"A string of days pass. During the nights, I've been sleeping in twenty-minute intervals. I feel aimless, things look cloudy [...]during a quiet lunch at Alex Goes to Camp, where I have the lamb sausage salad with lobster and white beans sprayed with lime and foie gras vinegar. I'm wearing faded jeans, an Armani jacket and a white, hundred-and-forty-dollar Comme des Gar9ons T-shirt. I make a phone call to check my messages. I return some videotapes. I stop at an automated teller. Last night, Jeanette asked me, "Patrick, why do you keep razor blades in your wallet?" The Patty Winters Show whis morning was about a boy who fell in love with a box of soap.

Unable to maintain a credible public persona, I find myself roaming the zoo in Central Park, restlessly. Drug dealers hang our along the perimeter by the gates and the smell of horse shit from passing carriages drifts over them into the zoo, and the tips of skyscrapers, apartment buildings on Fifth Avenue, the Trump Plaza, the AT&T building, surround the park which surrounds the zoo and heightens its unnaturalness. [...] The zoo seems empty, devoid of life. The polar bears look stained and drugged. A crocodile floats morosely in an oily makeshift pond. The puffins stare sadly from their glass cage. Toucans have beaks as sharp as knives. The seals stupidly dive off rocks into swirling black water, barking mindlessly. The zookeepers feed them dead fish. A crowd gathers around the tank, mostly adults, a few accompanied by chldren. [...] It's not the seals I hate - it's the audeince's enjoyment of them that bothers me.

Let these waves wash over me
Cleanse my need to pray
Until the future smothers all
And ends this bitter day

Now I drown upon this post
In this swelling wave
I gave my life to help them
To care and heal and save

Once to open up my heart
Giving what it brings
No loving in this crowd
I spread my angel wings

Listen to them, Father
They are laughing at my tears
After all I once gave
For three and thirty years

I will not pray for them
Their hatred never heard
The love that I have shown
Is not the Church’s word

You once told me Father
To show the errors of this day
I look into their future
That they listen what I say

Yet to these vengeful seas
I shall once more return
A final futile gesture
For a world deserved to burn

Back to a seething mass
Of raging insanity
To learn and search one last time
For the true side of humanity

I've just read that they should put a lid on 'the political stuff'. Okay. Time to close down my brain. I'm going to sleep and will cry tomorrow.

If there is one...

The other day, I happened across an interview in the HUMO with Lars Ulrich from Metallica. A few of the things were interesting. Here's a translation:

"
Misters Hetfield, Ulrich, Hammett and Trujillo will still not have their new, ninth stuio-album in Kiewit, but the follow-up to the five-year-old 'St. Anger' is coming.

- Five years, Lars!

Lars Ulrich (Drums): I know: that's an eternity in this business. But I promise you: thirty seconds after you've shoved the new Metilla in your CD player - or illegally downloaded it (laughs) - you'll have forgotten it. In September it should be in the shops.

- After four alnums with producer Bob Rock, you've used Rick Rubin, the man who helped diverse acts like Slayer and Johnny Cash to produce some of their best albums. Happy with the collaboration?

Ulrich: What did you think? The man is a legend! 'St. Anger' had a lukewarm reception, and I have to admit: today, the songs sound a touch one-dimensional. The most important things about the album was that we made it, because after the departure of Jason (Newsted, the bassist for the group in 2001 left,) and the James' alcoholic problems, Metallica was as good as dead. It was pure therapy, but through that, we noud stand stronger than ever.
Rick is a strict teacher. His instructions were: look for the Ultra-Metallica, the Metallica that made 'Master of Puppets'. Not to copy ourselevs, but to rediscover the old hunger. In the studio, the question was often: 'What would we have done in 1985 or 1986?' He also dared us to throw our habits overboard: instead of sticking songs together with ProTools, we had to first rehearse them until they penetrated every element of our lives. Just afterwards, we were able to put them live on tape.
At the moment, James is still quite busy doing his part singing - or should I say: screaming? (laughs) In a few weeks, the job will be done. Expect screaming solos, thick drums and an epic, aggressive selection of songs that will make the bridge with our earlier selves. I don't like day-dreaming promotional talk à la 'Dude, this is our best work ever!', but it is looking very good - and I am one of our hardest critics.
And if you'll excuse me, I have a record to finish.

- Wait! Don't we get a sneak preview at Pukkelpop?

Ulrich: Oh man! We can't wait to let own new babies loose! Better yet: if we don't do it, you can come and give me a thumping!

- Agreed!

"

It's kind of interesting how they've been pushed to ditch ProTools, a decision the Smashing Pumpkins wanted to make, but struggled with as they couldn't find any producers who were able to do it. Ironic that Rick Rubin suggested it.

As well as that, the talk of returning to 1985 - 1986 reminded me of Smashing Pumpkins talking about returning to 'Siamese Dream' and 'Mellon Collie'.

However, I liked the way Ulrich says the songs on 'St. Anger' are a little one-dimensional, then calls himself one of his toughest critics. Personally, to say they're only a little one-dimensional makes him one of the nicest critics there could be!

It's incredible... I've made the most exciting discovery of all time. The only problem is fear. The fear stops me from sharing it.

The fear is mine. It comes from hatred, or at least it looks like hatred at first. When I look very, very closely though, it's obvious. It's more fear. It's not the same as my fear, it's different. My fear is fear of hatred. This fear is fear of the unknown.

If I put my discovery out, it will remove the unknown which causes the fear which causes the hatred which causes my fear which makes it impossible to release my discovery and so on... At the end of the day, it all comes down to a simple question. Or is it a complicated play? Either way, it's this:

'Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf?'

Maybe we're all afraid. Maybe it's the truth. And maybe it's an illusion. Isn't it funny that Edward Albee, who had as much to fear as any of us, first asked the question? Isn't it funny that even with less to fear, we don't ask any questions? Or is it normal?

Of course, it was the characters who sing 'Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf', not Albee himself. It's the characters who make up a character to avoid the truth. And in turn, the characters are made up by Albee.

We're all afraid of Virginia Woolf. We don't need to be.

According to gauphil, a thirteen-year-old just killed himself after being humiliated on the internet, concluding with 'thirteen is never a normal age to die'.

There is no normal age to die, but we argue death at thirteen, especially by suicide, is not acceptable. There is no reason to suggest otherwise, but when we have teenage suicide, we never look at the appropriate reasons for it.

We blame it on music:
Marilyn Manson is bad.

We blame it on children being teased at school:
Everyone gets teased at school.

We blame it on teenage hormones:
Thirteen is a difficult age.

We don't blame it on ourselves:
It was exactly the same when we were at school.

Deciding what causes these problems is one thing, but actually responding to them is something else. There's a theory that the problems suffered by teenagers are only perceived. Billy Corgan once responded with words to the effect of:

Maybe it was only in my head, but it felt real enough to me.

And it's correct. If it's perceived as real, it makes it real. A teenager who perceives the desperation, the depression, the pain, the suffering, the uncertainty, the unpopularity, the cruelty and the abandonment as real, is going to respond to it as though it is real.

However, those who claim to be concerned and refuse to respond to the problem as real will never bring about an end to it.

The most unreal solution is in blaming it on someone else. Perhaps it is someone else's fault, but there is still a solution. It might be that the suicidal teenager needs support, and by attempting to blame music, the internet, short skirts or any of the other scapegoats which time has proferred, there won't be any improvements made.

Fashions will change and involve Marilyn Manson, Eminem, Black Sabbath, The Beatles. People will be Goths, Emos, Bimbos, Surfies, Jocks, Nerds or whatever else and there is no need to try to stamp this out, but to work towards developing an acceptance of it. It is not something which is happening, but which, quite possibly, is necessary.

John Lennon's 'Imagine' was on the radio today. What did this sound like to a thirteen-year-old? A message of hope? What did it sound like when it was met with despisation on the basis he was rich at the time he sang of giving up all worldly possessions? A reason not to hope, not to dream, not to try.

As long as the message we broadcast is that there is no reason to hope, believe or try, there will be suicide. As long as we deride instead of trying to understand, there will be reason to give up instead of reason to try or to believe in oneself.

It's so easy to blame other people. And it feels good to do it because we don't like to look at ourselves, at our own failures, at our own shattered dreams...

"i know that i am meant for this world
and in my mind as i was floating
far above the clouds
some children laughed i'd fall for certain
for thinking that i'd last forever
but i knew exactly where i was
and i knew the meaning of it all
and i knew the the distance to the sun
and i knew the echo that is love
and i knew the secrets in your spires
and i knew the emptiness of youth
and i knew the solitude of heart
and i knew the murmurs of the soul
and the world is drawn into your hands
and the world is etched upon your heart
and the world so hard to understand
is world you can't live without
and i knew the silence of the world"

"God knows I'm helpless to speak on my own behalf"

I've just read ainanna's comment about borders in religion and it's done so much wrong: it's made me think.

Does it matter whether we call ourselves Jewish or Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Sikh or Satanist? And if it does, does it matter to others? And why should it matter to ourselves?

Admittedly, I'm not as religious as the next person, so perhaps it's not my position to comment on this, but when I look in the mirror, I can do so and know, or not know, I'm living to the principles I believe in, without having a Rabbi, Priest, Imam, Sikh Leader or, ironically, Priest, telling me what to believe.

It's not just in religion. Look at music and the struggles we've come across in categorising everything there. Honestly, do we have to label the Smashing Pumpkins as grunge, alternative, shoe-gaze, psychodelic, soft rock, hard rock, soft metal, heavy metal or anything else? When we do it, does it make any difference to the sound coming from the speakers?

It's the same with politics. There is so much emphasis placed on political identity! Does it matter whether someone is a Republican or a Democrat?

It's like asking which you prefer:

a

OR

a

The difference is negligible. Is it just that 'a' is coloured blue whereas 'a' is red? Does living in the democracy mean we get what we want? Or do we spend our time fighting over issues, such as abortion, which are so vitally important, because we care about the lives of children, that in making no progress on the issue, we spend a sum enough money large enough to have been able to have saved the lives of ten children dying in whichever country has borders restricting it from potable water? We spend the time fighting over abortion, because a religion tells us we ought to, or because we realise we couldn't really care about the children dying wherever it was from whatever it was.

Actually, when it comes to politics, it does matter which identity we have. If I subscribe to something other than a dmocratic philosophy, I'll be in the wrong:

"You're either with us or against us!"

And of course, if I do stand against us, it, you or them, it makes me go over the border to what we call terrorism.

There we go. Borders are blurred on some occasions. When prisoners are taken to Guantanamo Bay for having broken laws passed in the United States of America, they lose their rights, as Guantanamo Bay no longer consititutes American soil, being in an area of Cuba controlled solely by America.

And of course, the people brought there are terrorists. They may have been rebels, but we don't impose strict borders on what constitutes a terrorist rather than a rebel, because, quite simply, anyone who disagrees with the perceived democracy of the United States is a terrorist. Or are they a terrorist for being rebels?

At the end of the day, it doesn't matter. I'll hang my Che Guevara poster so I can engage in the feelings of rebellion I never do anything about, and be satisfied the poster will mean I've developed some kind of identity and independence different to all the other people who have the same things hanging in their bedrooms.

There is something we do achieve from the borders. It creates an "us" and a "them". And isn't it scary to think we might be in the "them" instead of in the "us", even in the fight for identity.