Sometimes books are not at all about what they seem to be about. Sometimes a book about animals is actually about politics. Sometimes a book about war is actually about the trouble of bureaucracy. And sometimes a book about a boy shipwrecked on a lifeboat with a Bengal tiger has less to do with surviving at sea than about faith, religion and humanity.

The only setup I had for Life of Pi — thanks to my girlfriend — was that it was a beautiful story about an Indian zookeeper’s boy caught in a “faith triangle” between Hinduism, Islam and Christianity and his exploration of their relationship. I thought that would be it: an analysis of the three in story form, with all the awkward, funny and beautiful moments that are inevitable to the life of any human exploring the practice of faith.

So you can imagine I was caught a bit off guard when I got a quarter of the way through the book and realized that Pi Patel would be stranded on a lifeboat with a tiger for the majority of the story. And, even when I got comfortable with that, the setup of Pi’s growing up as a practitioner of three faiths seemed all but abandoned in favor of a Yet Another Shipwrecked Story.

As captivating as the story was (I highly recommend it for that alone), I was disappointed at the lack of religious exploration, what with it being a recurring topic for me these days. But I could hardly say it was a disappointing read, just not what I had expected.

And then, with a stroke of genius, Yann Martel closes his story with a quick almost-one-liner that ties up Life of Pi in the most beautiful of packages. I wouldn’t want to ruin it for you, of course. But I will say that you won’t be disappointed.

This is one of those rare books that can be enjoyed on many levels. Everyone will appreciate reading about animals and about a boy’s ability to survive at sea. And the bookworm philosopher will enjoy it for that and its subtle subtext.

My friend Matthew recently started a community of bloggers doing what he calls “Poetry Wednesday.” The idea is simple: post your favorite poetry (yours or someone else’s) on Wednesdays. And that’s it. So here’s mine.

One final selection from Ryan Adams’ Infinity Blues.

Dreams, God, Albert, and Disappointment

by Ryan Adams

Albert wakes God up (again) and God is pissed,
but then laughs
and makes tea
tea for two
and they sit by the bay window
and God speaks
and Albert, grinning, says, “hmm”
and not much else
and when he talks
it isn’t in a germanic drawl
no
they speak one language
Angelica
which sounds like a puppy barking
about nothing in particular
like an animal sigh
and
eventually
Mrs. Claus comes round too
and says, “hello, Albert,” like he was a kid
because he is just a kid
always was
always is
punk as funk
and they all listen to the story of how
and why
and Albert tries very hard
not to ask too many questions
and
eventually
goes back to the dormitory
and writes stuff down
the ink disappears
into a cloud
and I wake up
in the middle of this firing range
where the bullets
and still the curse of days
and the worry
that my heart will explode
from love
and
disappointment

My friend Matthew recently started a community of bloggers doing what he calls “Poetry Wednesday.” The idea is simple: post your favorite poetry (yours or someone else’s) on Wednesdays. And that’s it. So here’s mine.

Yet another selection from Ryan Adams’ Infinity Blues.

Joy

by Ryan Adams

When you say a thing that I write too much
I dream myself a thousand-plus
more books I wrote myself
and imagine them in a swinging stack
fainting
and collapsing onto you
as they crush your bones
in the name of art
in the name of american idealism
in the name of the future
because
fuck you and your sleeping wordless criticism
and
that path before me is lit with possibility
and lore
and my cup is not full because it is not a cup
it is a life
it is a heart
and me
I am trying to show you something
about yourself
not me
that a person can do anything
and
that is what hope is
so,
with all due respect,
fuck you if you dismiss this
because it is a process
and
I accept
if you discount what it has to say
but if I draw a line
and say
what have you done today
be prepared
because while you are sleeping
I am with the sunlight
and the life
and joy
joy will rise in the names

Given its “by the people, for the people” punk roots, indie’s most relevant definition would seem to come from its fans, its most fervent believers. But take to the Internet — the homeless home of this decade’s most important scene — and you’ll find that any definition set forth has been swiftly and furiously countered.

Paste Magazine posed the question: is indie dead?. A good article that addresses an issue that needed to be explored at length. Rachael Maddux treats the subject well, addressing it from several perspectives.

Her final conclusion (not to spoil it for you; you should read the article to see a fine journalistic specimen regardless) is that yes, indie is dead.

She makes her point in a roundabout way, but abuses the term “dead” in my opinion. Indie is not dead, it’s just become a singularity. Much like the Nietzsche-posed question “is God dead?,” which she addresses, which more states that “God” means too many things to mean anything. Which is exactly what “indie” is: too much to be something any more.

I have friends who say “indie” when they mean independent. They’re usually the ones with a grasp on the recent history of pop culture. But to the rest — generally the less history-aware — it means “quirky” or “authentic” or a hundred other things.

Or they don’t know what indie means at all, so wrapped up in a world of the mainstream that they’re entirely unaware something else exists outside a world of corporate-sponsored entertainment based on market research. They probably don’t even know that market research exists.

Maybe indie is no more dead than any other thing that was never alive in the first place; I suppose the real issue here is deciding what “dead” and “alive” mean.

My friend Matthew recently started a community of bloggers doing what he calls “Poetry Wednesday.” The idea is simple: post your favorite poetry (yours or someone else’s) on Wednesdays. And that’s it. So here’s mine.

This week’s poem comes from Ryan Adams’ Infinity Blues.

Becausewhy

by Ryan Adams

because we are bored
We War
Because we are bored
We Fuck
sexy or not
and
Because we were born to fight
inside
we know
our children too, eventually will die
this is how it is
in the universe of ours
us against time
and
in this place,
show me where god stood up
and said otherwise
i say he does not speak
and may be everything
inside that thought
you are allowed
but may not keep
for the growing
of things
immeasurable
i have not seen him
while i have been alive
and regardless
heaven
that would not work
if men and women
were anything like this
someplace else
especially an elsewhere
of brights
and
if so
that is not a good place to go
i would not dine there
how could one relax
infinitely
in a place like that
so why?
becausewhy
that’s what
that’s what they say
right before
“shut up”
and i’m like
ok
no
never.
Fuck-Face.

It’s no secret that I’ve had a thing for pretty much everything Ryan Adams does for quite some time. I own a good handful of his many albums, I read his blog, followed his Twitter, watched him on Tumblr, and wherever else he chose to publish his words, videos and songs for 10 days at a time before deleting it all.

It started when a good friend introduced me to his album Love is Hell — one of the saddest and most beautiful collections of alt. country and piano ballads about heartbreak ever put to tape. It started a snowball effect that has slowed down but I doubt will ever stop until he does. (Coincidentally, he stated a while back that he’s on an indefinite hiatus from making music, so maybe that time has already come.)

So it comes as no surprise to most that I finally got around to reading Infinity Blues, his book of poems that he wrote a year or two ago.

Adams has undergone what seems to be a significant transformation in the last few years, having given up several addictions, getting married and, generally speaking, doing everything he can to shed the asshole image he had created for himself during several years of self-destructive actions on stage and off.

If nothing else, Infinity Blues is a look into the mind of Adams at the age of 33. It’s frantic, thoughtful, funny, sad and all over the map from one moment to the next. He talks candidly — and yet still with a shroud over names and events — about his broken family, lost loves, life in the city, art, faith and everything. In one poem he claims that he wrote anywhere from 3 to 17 poems a day for the book which, knowing his prolific creation schedule, isn’t too surprising.

If you like free verse poetry or watching Adams “find himself by losing himself,” Infinity Blues might be worth a read.

A few years ago a friend of mine and I started making a playlist for every month, in a sense to act as a piece of nostalgia, as something of a musical fingerprint of a moment in time.

February. A pretty dang good month. Aside from some fun health problems and getting my wisdom teeth pulled, that is. So it must have been pretty awesome otherwise to make up for that.

Most of these tracks are random perusals back through my library, a couple new releases (Beach House and Magnetic Fields, mostly) and a step back into exploring dubstep a bit more.

And then there’s that 30 Seconds to Mars track. Can someone explain to me why it’s not cool to like them? Listen to the song in the attached playlist (and all the others, of course) and tell me it’s not a solid pop song.

1. The Gaslight Anthem – “The ’59 Sound” (The ’59 Sound)
2. Wilco – “Theologians” (A Ghost is Born)
3. The Gaslight Anthem – “Here’s Looking At You, Kid” (The ’59 Sound)
4. Ryan Bingham – “Change Is” (Roadhouse Sun)
5. Yeasayer – “Ambling Alp” (Odd Blood)
6. Beach House – “Zebra” (Teen Dream)
7. Beach House – “Walk In the Park” (Teen Dream)
8. Magnetic Fields – “You Must Be Out of Your Mind” (Realism)
9. Wu-Tang Clan – “Deep Space (Jay Da Flex & Yoof remix)” (Wu-Tang Meets the Indie Culture Vol. 2: Enter the Dubstep)
10. Wu-Tang Clan – “New Year Banga (Rogue Star remix)” (Wu-Tang Meets the Indie Culture Vol. 2: Enter the Dubstep)
11. DJ Hidden – “Death at a Distance” (Death at a Distance)
12. 30 Seconds to Mars – “Kings and Queens” (This is War)