The spam filter has caught me another fine gem in what is promising to be a long relationship of links with a doomsday website. Today, I am on notice that liking “Built To Spill” is a sign of the Apocalypse, the one this year. I don’t want anyone to get confused by other previous doomsdays, lest they be misled that I was part of those as well.
I post Ancient Melodies of the Future’s “In Your Mind” a week or so ago. It goes a little something like this, if you don’t know the ditty:
The symptoms of our getting older,
the problems that say we don’t mind,
most of us never get over
memories mingled with lies.
Coincidence gave a confession,
that no one’s allowed to forget,
I don’t want to give the impression
that predestination is set.
And distance will increase the danger,
with certainties never enjoyed.
Regarded as equal yet stranger,
ignored, then embraced, then destroyed.
Observing the process will change it,
afterwords even if you
subconsciously rearrange it,
it doesn’t seem any less true.
The remnants of fog disappearing,
and even transcending concern,
disturbing but somehow endearing,
conditioned to never unlearn.
And no one can tell me to listen,
and no one can tell me whats right,
cause nobody has my permission,
and no one can see in your mind,
The magnifications explore,
there slowly emerges a pattern,
and details you normally ignore,
you notice really what matters.
It isn’t a time or a place,
only an ebb and a flowing.
A permanent repeating space,
occurring, connecting, and growing.
And no one can tell me to listen,
and no one can tell me what’s right,
cause nobody has my permission,
and no one can see in your mind,
in your mind.
Now by itself, this is a very impressive pop song dealing with time, space, human nature, and what we think is reality in under four minutes. Chances are Doug Martsch was not prepared for writing the theme song for the end of the word, especially in 2001. Unless of course you you think 2001 is equally significant, that is. It may make Martsch’s prognostications much more powerful when the voices in your head agree.
So, to wit: If you listen to Built To Spill, and you are reading these words, you are responsible for bringing about something very terrible. Thoughts, songs and jokes are no longer permitted here due to the heinous nature of pitiable crimes of expression. I shall continue to monitor the spam box for other warnings.
You have my word. It’s all I’ve been given.