We are bigger on the inside


Over a week ago I had an intense reaction to this beautiful song by Amanda Palmer: Bigger On The Inside. Please, do yourself a favor and listen to it (download it and contribute if possible!).

Here are the lyrics:

You’d think I’d shot their children
From the way that they are talking
And there’s no point in responding
Cause it will not make them stop

And I am tired of explaining
And of seeing so much hating
In the very same safe haven
Where I used to just see helping

I’ve been drunk and skipping dinner
Eating skin from off my fingers
And I tried to call my brother
But he no longer exists

I keep forgetting to remember
That he would have been much prouder
If he saw me shake these insults off
Instead of getting bitter…

I am bigger on the inside
But you have to come inside to see me
Otherwise you’re only hating
Other people’s low-res copies

You’d think I’d learn my lesson
From the way they keep on testing
My capacity for pain
And my resolve to not get violent

But though my skin is thickened
Certain spots can still be gotten
It is typically human of me
Thinking I am different

To friends hooked up to hospital machines
To fix their cancer
And there is no better place than from this
Waiting room to answer

The French kid who wrote an e-mail
To the website late last night
His father raped him and he’s scared
He asked me
How do you keep fighting?

And the truth is I don’t know
I think it’s funny that he asked me
Cause I don’t feel like a fighter lately
I am too unhappy

You are bigger on the inside
But your father cannot see
You need to tell someone
be strong
And somewhere some dumb rock star truly loves you

You’d think I’d get perspective
From my view here by the bedside
It is difficult to see the ones I love
So close to death

All their infections and prescriptions
And the will to live at all in question
Can I not accept that my own problems
Are so small

You took my hand when you woke up
I had been crying in the darkness
We all die alone but I am so, so glad
That you are here

You whispered:
“We are so much bigger on the inside,
You, me, everybody
Some day when you’re lying where I am
You’ll finally get it, beauty

We are so much bigger
Than another one can ever see

But
Trying is the point of life
So don’t stop trying

Promise me”

What inspires you? (Workshop post #3)


Hi everyone! I’m very excited to join you on this first day of our blogging workshop. How should we get started? Let’s keep it simple: what we do on each post is creating content. Sometimes, we share videos (like this one I shot, and later edited, while spending New Year’s Eve with my mom back in December).


Though it might not seem that exciting, it just served a simple goal: capturing a moment in time. Watching a Rolling Stones concert on tv with family, while waiting for a new year to begin.

But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine…


Sean: So if I asked you about art, you’d probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life’s work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I’ll bet you can’t tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You’ve never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you’d probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can’t tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You’re a tough kid. And I’d ask you about war, you’d probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, “once more unto the breach dear friends.” But you’ve never been near one. You’ve never held your best friend’s head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I’d ask you about love, you’d probably quote me a sonnet. But you’ve never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn’t know what it’s like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn’t know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms “visiting hours” don’t apply to you. You don’t know about real loss, ’cause it only occurs when you’ve loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you’ve ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you… I don’t see an intelligent, confident man… I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But you’re a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my fucking life apart. You’re an orphan right?

[Will nods]

Sean: You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally… I don’t give a shit about all that, because you know what, I can’t learn anything from you, I can’t read in some fuckin’ book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I’m fascinated. I’m in. But you don’t want to do that do you sport? You’re terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.

I wonder, man


How badass and cool Adam Silver turned out. Man, if only he could fine a lot of people, make them sell everything when their idiocy is made public. I also wonder about the loneliness of telemarketers, journalists and billionaires.

I wonder how and if when our imaginary staring match with dad will end (dude, it`s 2014 and we haven`t spoken to each other!). I wonder about embarrasing conversations and phone calls (I am quietly judging you). I wonder about longevity and people`s sex drives.

And it makes me wonder.