I do miss the chance to see Calexico every so often, but I can bask in the music here in Korea.
I see the crumbling foundations of the empire. Decadence...going under. The dust fills my trained eye, always hawking the bitterness of defeat; vanquished by the sword of entropy. I look at America through the sight glass of a broken telescope from the Asia continent. I love, but my love is thrown into my family and out into the cosmos, because it simply hurts too much to have nothing left to cherish in my homeland.
The words below remind me of this desolation. Like many other mindful Americans, I too look to the South and its beautiful tribes and peoples not thoroughly wrought by the 'free-market'.
The current scene: Learn it. Breathe it in. Exhale and 'press on with pride', like my dad, Lee Calvin, always exhorted during military mind exercises.
"Watched with a hawk's trained eye
Trees grow silent fruit
'neath a suffering sky
Those who have stayed, keep a flame
In memory of the fallen
And pass on the old rites despite the risk
But many more have left here
On mended broken wings
Turning to see your reaction
A tear drop fills your eye" - Calexico 'Woven Birds'
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