I should read more books.

They're that good...

Too few music gets better with time. The Weakerthans are an exception to that statement, that I am only mildly aware of, even after memorizing the majority of their music. What I am about to prove is that the Weakerthans are one of the most creative lyricists of our generation. I mean, I can't even spell lyricists without the help of google. That is not really the point though. Perhaps I have a thing for obscure references, like the way Dennis Miller rants. It blows me away when I understand something after years of thinking that I know it, more specifically with regard to music. It is always fun to find out the world is bigger than you thought.

I'm reading A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking. Chapter 9: The Arrow of Time has the following passage:

"Suppose...that the universe should finish up in a state of high order but that it didn't matter what state it started in. At early times the universe would probably be in a disordered state. This would mean that disorder would decrease with time. You would see broken cups gathering themselves together and jumping back onto the table. However, any human beings who were observing the cups would be living in a universe in which disorder decreased with time. … That is, they would remember events in the future and not remember events in their past. When the cup was broken, they would remember it being on the table, but when it was on the table, they would not remember it being on the floor."

The rest of the chapter goes on like this, basically explaining the details about if this is could be true for another universe, and will our universe (which is expanding) ever slow down and then start to collapse. And if it does, will time reverse in this way, will we experience things the way he explains it etc...

And now, I'm going to bring it home. The lyrics to the Weakerthans song, "Time's Arrow"

So you watch the sunrise sinking
And she's talking in her sleep
A dream of how alone she was
Tomorrow when you keep
All those promises to someone
In a mirror you will find
At your parents' house in 1989.

Terrorized by the ruling party: calendars and commas.
Small request, could we please turn around?

Then you whisper your arrival
walking backwards to the door.
Wonder briefly what it is you're hesitating for.
All the streets lie down, deserted
in the darkest part of night,
To lead you through the evening to the light.

Pulled along in the tender grip of watches and ellipses.
Small request. Could we please turn around?