Sylvan Hollow

Gimme shelter in this world gone wild. A loner's dream of moon dust that's wild on the run. Just live and breathe, keep your eyes on the wheel in the sky, and bear the winds of March.

Archive for February, 2007

Posted in Uncategorized on February 12th, 2007

So what am I doing today? Well, nothing much. Basically wasting my life away. Come off it, you can’t be insane and unreasoanable all the time, can you? No, I thought not. The song that’s currently playing right now is Edge of the Blade by Journey, but likely to change within the next ten seconds, as Neal Schon has been shredding for the past minute or so. Yep, there it goes. It’s ending. The next song iiiiiis…….Dirty White Boy, by Foreigner! Yes! I love this song. I sang some of it to Zahrah last night…cus I’m a dirty white boy…yea, a dirty white boy…a dirty white boy, and that’s about all I know of it. Although I’m not really a dirty white boy, nor do I plan on becoming one in the near future.


I’m supposed to be doing a couple of essays right now, but I’m still procrastinating..duh…ok, I’m gonna go waste some more of my life doing something equally useless someplace else.


No one’s been reading, have they?




Posted in Music on February 8th, 2007

On Neal Schon’s ‘Blue Passion’ 


The swell and the tide.
Fade and temper.
A rising crescendo.

Strings of a dream,
Forgotten and Faded,
Alone and Unforgiven.

A cry and a plead
Swirls and pools,
Surrenders at my feet
As clouds race across the sky
To covet the Moon.

He brings forth a dance
Of stars.

He has written
Of days before.

With kisses burned
Into the sun,
The days fade away,
Yet the poignant Sorrow…

His love and his fingers,
Like strange marks of desire
That call for Passion.

A calming now.

He moves within my soul,
Never giving up on me.

He pulls the strings of my heart
And bears himself with love.

He haunts that place.
That place in a Dream.

A Blue Passion
He has created,
He has fulfilled.

He remembers.


What they said to me…

Posted in history on February 8th, 2007

Looking back on the Greeks, I concede that they may be quite intelligent people. But their current football team is awful and inconsistent and I suggest the rape of every single player.

 A Greek proverb goes, “Have the Frank for your friend, but not for your neighbour.” Now, Frank, that doesn’t mean we hate you, or that you stink or something, but if you do, we advise you to stay away, anyway.

What the Greeks meant, of course, was the French king Charlemagne. And to be honest, who really wants France for their neighbour? They whine too much/think too highly of their football team. Yes, Zidane’s a good player, yes, we know he headbutted Materazzi, but no, he’s not a hero.

I digress. The Frankish noble Einhard, close personal friend of Charlemagne the Great, wrote in his The Life of Charlemagne, that “…the power of the Franks was always viewed by the Greeks and Romans with a jealous eye, whence the Greek proverb, ‘Have the Frank for your friend, but not for your neighbour’…” Basically, he meant that Charlemagne was a man everyone respected. Period. You gave him what he wanted when he wanted it. When he ruled the Roman Empire, the Greeks got skittish and were afeared he would try to take their quaint little empire. He already had Gaul between the Rhine and Loire, the Ocean and the Balaeric Sea, and part of Germany. But he went ahead and decided he wanted Aquitania, Gascony, the Pyrenees, all of Italy, and Saxony as well. Aaron (Harun?), King of Persia, got wise fast and formed a deep friendship with this Charlemagne.

That’s why Greece wanted him for their friend, but not their neighbour. And now I’ve forgotten my original point here, so you’ll have to give me a minute…

So what really constitutes a friendship? I thought friendship was based on trust, and even though Greece allied themselves with Charlemagne, they obviously didn’t trust him. But let’s be fair – who would trust a tall, handsome, war hero with fifty titles, King of this, Emperor of that, who could smush you between his thumb and forefinger? Then who were Char (I’m getting tired of typing out his whole name…) ‘s real friends? Do all powerful entities lose this sacrosanct edifice of friendship when, even though they may vow never to take another inch of land that they didn’t already have, they ascend their throne? Who would trust them? How lonely kings must have been in their hearts, how utterly estranged. All those rules, all those structures to follow in their presence! It’s everything they wanted, but it probably tore them apart.

Too east of Eden, just marionettes that dance to a tune no one else wants to play. It must be a terrible sacrifice, friendship, for a crown and some land. Sure, there’s a piece of paper from Greece that says, ‘We love you. Please don’t kill us.’ But words are words. People will say anything to survive. Who would extend his hand to Charlemagne and mean it? Did Harun mean it? What motives do we have for friendship? In the film Almost Famous, the ‘Band Aides’ – NOT to be confused with groupies – claim that groupies only sleep with stars to be close to someone famous. Boasting rights. They’re proud of it. Were the Greeks proud of their allegiance with Char? Or just scared? Their motives were probably more human, less base – they did it to survive. But Char probably knew. They knew. Who is not afeared of power? But alas, there must be something greater than survival. Isn’t there?