The molecular structure of loneliness.

Like infinite halves
between two wholes
we meet at the folds
and it never gets old

Our bodies uncannily
reflecting such symmetry
we fake like we’re dancers
forming cyclical patterns

Orbiting

orbiting

I know how to make you
(You don’t know me)

I know I can fix you
(You don’t know me at all)

I know how to break you
(You can't have me)

Promise me you’ll never leave
(You can’t have me at all)

The sun is a mass of
fiery gasses
and we are just atoms
stacked upon atoms

The world is a cloud
An indigo shroud
and we are just atoms
stacked upon atoms

Like infinite halves
between two wholes
we meet at the folds
and it never gets old

It never gets old

Monsters in the making.

As a media glutton and appreciator of the Coffin Joe trilogy, I by no means consider myself a moral prude, but by three seconds into "Monster" my jaw hit the floor.

The gruesome displays of violence against women successfully bitch-slapped the feminist within me. My initial reaction was to hate the video, but something didn't quite click. 

Why the hell would Nicki Minaj or, curiouser still, Justin Vernon sign up for a project that supports such unbelievably graphic displays of misogyny? When my shock subsided, I realized that I had no clue what anybody in that video was actually saying.

The lyrics go as such.

Although I harbor strong distaste for his decision to exploit the female image to create such striking depictions of violence, I tip my hat to director Jake Nava for successfully circumventing a potentially scathing shit fit. Perhaps my tendency toward optimism has skewed my analysis, but after examining the lyrics, the video does little more than personify Kanye's "monstrous" ego as portrayed by the media and your average hater. 

The entire experience is like being caught in the middle of a giant feedback loop between the press and Kanye's psyche, resulting in an amplified funhouse version of what it takes to make it as a rap superstar in an increasingly vapid music industry. It's as if he's covertly selling us back our own bitter resentment and making a profit.

I had been too entranced by the track's sick beats to bother with the lyrics until now and this got me to wondering: how many publications, in the midst of all this hype, had even mentioned the context of the explicit imagery presented in this video?

The answer so far is zero.

I had no problem digging up descriptive articles outlining video's goriness, but the closest thing I could find to a textual analysis was a frightening piece on MTV.com outlining what I suppose are now considered obscure references (made mostly by Jay-Z) including: pharaoh, Sasquatch, Godzilla, King Kong, Loch Ness and Willy Wonka.

Most of these are cultural references that I can understand mentioning for audiences born in the early '90s, but Pharaoh? Are you kidding me, MTV? Not only does the necessity to define such a rudimentary term reveal shocking amounts about the album's audience demographic, but it fucking scares me. 

Here is where I pose my vital question:

Will those who need to have terms such as "pharaoh", "King Kong" or Willy Wonka explained to them even bother to look up the lyrics to this song; and if so, also possess the analytical capacity to decode the (alleged) metaphorical nature of this video's violence?

Probably not.

That said, media critics better get on this because "necrophilia" is a much harder word to define to your kids.

***

Update:

Hooray Jezebel for opening up a discussion on this. 

Reaping paranoia and other fruits of the digital era.

One of my favorite things about trudging balls-deep against a torrent of information is the sense of paranoia that rises with every political narrative that slaps me in the eyes. As an innate skeptic, I view most everything as political. As a typical American, my overall grasp of the linearity of world history can be described as loose at best. I consequently find myself in a perpetual state of low-grade paranoia.

It is disturbing how simple it is to fall into passivity, especially while surrounded by so much noise. With the insurmountable number of outlets spewing forth unending streams of fragmented narrative, contradictory opinion and tawdry gossip, it's no wonder that so many of the helplessly inundated choose to acquiesce to the authority of The Pundits. 

Hilary Clinton outstrips Sarah Palin as America's most admired woman by a mere 5%. Conservative voices argue that net neutrality is a government conspiracy to extend its control the Web. Bryan Fischer claims that Obama wants to cede the entire land mass of the United States back to the "Indians". 

The world is on fire and man kind is an inch within being engulfed by flames. This brings me to my next favorite thing about living in the Internet Age: being able to choose which parts of the world are ablaze and how brightly they burn.

This is not a blog.

In the event of my untimely death, I leave all my aspirations to nonfulfillment.