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True Middle

Posted by Gustaf Jacobson 
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True Middle
August 08, 2005 11:07AM
Hi!

I wonder if someone of you know what the song true middle is about?
I just love the song but can't figure out what it means.
Especially the lines "a woman goes deep into the forest, squats down above the..." are kind of mysterious to me. I'm from Sweden so I guess it's more difficult for me to understand the lyrics than it is for you.
Please can anyone help me?
Johnny
Re: True Middle
August 22, 2005 06:07PM
You sound like a homosexual. Are you? Hope so.
Peru
Re: True Middle
August 22, 2005 09:47PM
I like the line: "I'm from Sweden so I guess it's more difficult for me to understand..." Seems to corroborate an old belief people have in Norway.
Lars
Re: True Middle
August 22, 2005 10:00PM
HAHA! Yeah! Stupid Sweeds!
Re: True Middle
August 23, 2005 04:05PM
What a nice forum this is... christ. If anyone has ideas or commentaries about the lyrics, answer him. If not, shut up. Why treat him like an idiot?

GRRR :-)
Re: True Middle
August 26, 2005 02:02PM
I agree Balalaika. Don't pick on him just cus he's swedish. Although i couldn't help but giggle abit to that remark about it being easier for us to understand the lyric smiling smiley

Anyway; He's for public urination, that's for sure smiling smiley Naah just kidding.
It can be alot of things, or nothing at all, depending on the viewpoint. Matt Burt has got some pretty weird poetry, and god knows what he's trying to tell us with his words. I would think that the poem has some hidden meaning regarding him and his life, which can't be understood by others. So I think you'll be better off making your own interpetation.

Anyone else?



TvdR
Re: True Middle
August 27, 2005 05:01PM
"But there's just no insurance policy for a life wasted"

Love that one...

Thought I could make more sense of it having the lyrics, but they are not on the site. I am at work, so can't listen back, and I don't have them in my head well enough to make a clear statement.

Blahdeeblah...

Greets,

Thomas
Re: True Middle
August 28, 2005 03:15AM
Ok here's what i heard atleast.
And yesh, i know about the typos smiling smiley

"This life, unfulfilled for so many
The reflection of automobiles, like the
slowly expanding mercury of a thermometer,
crawl sideways in the tinted sunglasses of
a large bearded man on a street corner.
Staring blankly off into the dinstants.
The remains of his half eaten ice cream stick
drips slowly. Drop by melting drop,
parachuteless onto his white tennis shoes.
Iluminous sphere of lights grows stronger
from behind a hilltop. Standing in the shower
with plugged ears. Bang, (then) the water hit
the base of the spine, then up and finally over
the top of the head. The sound of a car passing.
But there just ain no insurance policy for
life wasted...

A woman goes deep into the forest, squats down above
the leaves and pine needles and pees on her finger,
causing sparks to fly and ricochet. Iluminating the
shadows, stowed in the heart. The ones we secretly prize
but never admitt to. Not even to ourselves.
That special moment, When we set aside our endulgances
and accesses...then, and only then, lifes mysterious,
seemingly Unconnected coincidences begin to take shape
in a meaningfull way"



Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 08/28/2005 03:55AM by The Golden Blissard Demon.
TvdR
Re: True Middle
August 28, 2005 02:21PM
Good job mr. or mrs. Demon!

The first flash I get is alienation. That place where you find yourself on the outskirts of civilisation and unable to reconnect with either yourself or civilisation. 'True Middle' seems to me that place where you are truly yourself and a convinced member of society simultaneously, unattainable surely.

Also what comes to mind is zen-buddhism. Only when we let go of ourselves and our ties with the material world will we be truly free. This goes for the spiritual self as well as the physical self; only if we let go of our inhibitions and preconceptions will we see the world as it is.

As Dutch poet Deelder: "Something that resembles nothing is real."

As was so rightfully pointed out earlier, there are some points which are particular to the poet himself and to which information we will never have access. But this must not stop ourselves from making our own interpretation of his work; indeed, one of the essences of poetry is blank space.

An uncle of mine was a poet, sculptor and painter. Once he overheard two art-critics discussing one of his paintings. One of them was going on and on about 'what the artist meant by this painting'. My uncle listened to his discourse and, after it was finished, said: "So that's what I meant by it! I always wondered what I meant..."

Greets,

Thomas
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