blog
life stream
subscribeWednesday, April 30
I'm digging the new My Morning Jacket song, out this Spring... take a listen at NPR's All Songs Considered. New Deathcab, Portishead, etc. available for a listen as well.
Tuesday, April 29
Return of the SuperNerd?
It flows both ways like we all should have learned from the tide. Intelligently designed, I have small and modest ideas in me that something is running away, under my feet, a metaphor of thunder storms that hesitate to calm us. Sitting in a small chair, opposite a screen door that leads to wind and rain, I forget all the times the shepherd's song brought me back home, with the cows, for the sleep that lasted from dawn until dusk until your eyes brightened against my melting heart and the world was one step from tomorrow. It's been four days. It's hurricane season and a thousand trumpets scream for my full attention. This is for good. If only the waters were calm. If only consistency would reign. Kissing you, an urge to flee, let's try try try again.
Connection is a primary human urge.
Freedom or independence is another.
If you really want me to return, in full force, seven or eight things may explode, and I am still afraid that I may be one of them. This is the last seal, the curse of regret, and the last chance to reanimate my southern cross.
It flows both ways like we all should have learned from the tide. Intelligently designed, I have small and modest ideas in me that something is running away, under my feet, a metaphor of thunder storms that hesitate to calm us. Sitting in a small chair, opposite a screen door that leads to wind and rain, I forget all the times the shepherd's song brought me back home, with the cows, for the sleep that lasted from dawn until dusk until your eyes brightened against my melting heart and the world was one step from tomorrow. It's been four days. It's hurricane season and a thousand trumpets scream for my full attention. This is for good. If only the waters were calm. If only consistency would reign. Kissing you, an urge to flee, let's try try try again.
Connection is a primary human urge.
Freedom or independence is another.
If you really want me to return, in full force, seven or eight things may explode, and I am still afraid that I may be one of them. This is the last seal, the curse of regret, and the last chance to reanimate my southern cross.
Haarp
Wednesday, April 23
So, looks like Muse put out a raucous live cd, H.A.A.R.P. (link goes to Pitchfork review). I haven't taken a listen yet. Anyone else pick it up yet? I'm curious about the included DVD...
Monday, April 21
Have you ever had a dream where you received guidance from an animal or spirit that provided you with wisdom or perspective? In other words, have you ever met your guide, in whatever form, in a dream or vision? I am not sure that I have had such a dream although I believe in the power and truth of spontaneous moments of clarity and vision, whatever their origin. Here is some dialogue from one such experience I recently heard tale of:
There is no need to worry.
It does not end here.
It does not end ever.
There is no need to worry.
It does not end here.
It does not end ever.
ACL 2008 looks promising...
Tuesday, April 15
Vampire Weekend, Manu Chao, Spiritualized, and Band of Horses are on the lineup... I am excited about all of them. And Robert Plant?... How is he still alive? M. Ward is also going to play, though I have heard he is not that exciting to see live. Check out the full ACL 2008 lineup.
If you look under the shoestep and think and know of the ballerina
With eyes painted, lips parted, suspended moment, unlocked from
Fixations which arise, doors and frayed edges exposed
Unready to open hearts and embrace and set the stage of anonymity
If you place your hands sideways alongside untold avenues of hers
With sandpaper breath and soft wrinkled words from forever with
Surefire tremble pitch collapse and forget the night and endless endlessly
I think you will blast an open parting and drenching pipes will howl alive
On wisdom's knee you will draw a parallel and as I won't give in
You will never fail to amazing memory and sift on to undernuanced weathering
Transgressions to favor and perfection to behold the beating and wealth of assured
Transitory unrequited love, she will fall head first hands forward, eternal
On melody as brave unsteady mourning, on empty day and night
On yearning, --On standing, --On promising, --On all you have
All you need all on forgery --On onward ahead, --On on again, --On unsurely insane
On the end of misery and hope to avail us once again to the endless end
With eyes painted, lips parted, suspended moment, unlocked from
Fixations which arise, doors and frayed edges exposed
Unready to open hearts and embrace and set the stage of anonymity
If you place your hands sideways alongside untold avenues of hers
With sandpaper breath and soft wrinkled words from forever with
Surefire tremble pitch collapse and forget the night and endless endlessly
I think you will blast an open parting and drenching pipes will howl alive
On wisdom's knee you will draw a parallel and as I won't give in
You will never fail to amazing memory and sift on to undernuanced weathering
Transgressions to favor and perfection to behold the beating and wealth of assured
Transitory unrequited love, she will fall head first hands forward, eternal
On melody as brave unsteady mourning, on empty day and night
On yearning, --On standing, --On promising, --On all you have
All you need all on forgery --On onward ahead, --On on again, --On unsurely insane
On the end of misery and hope to avail us once again to the endless end
Walt Whitman
Monday, April 14
STRONGER LESSONS.
Have you learn'd lessons only of those who admired you, and
were tender with you, and stood aside for you?
Have you not learn'd great lessons from those who reject you,
and brace themselves against you? or who treat you with
contempt, or dispute the passage with you?
Have you learn'd lessons only of those who admired you, and
were tender with you, and stood aside for you?
Have you not learn'd great lessons from those who reject you,
and brace themselves against you? or who treat you with
contempt, or dispute the passage with you?
Like trying to hide the daylight from the sun
Wednesday, April 2
Black fireworks in a midnight blue sky.
Tuesday, April 1
Dear Starlight,
Is it fate that picked at the small pieces until I came undone? Why do I wonder when the time has come and gone, easing the pain and the joy away into the ether? You have come and gone, my dream, my day to fight, my ray of moonshine vibrating in the morning light. For the in-breath, for the out-breath, my fears lose ground and my brain becomes rewired to understand again a world without. I want to write these dreams again, I still need to, I still wish these words could be put to music and I could be the writer of the music that plays as starlight is born and a child is given life.
I was so confident and strong on the day we were born. I was unstoppable and unbelievable. I was designed for life. I was ready to put a stop to the madness, yet the madness overcame. Was it meant to be? Where were you, my protector? Is this what happens to love when ill-fated, when honest men lie, when women feign blamelessness?
And what about the explosions in the night sky? I hear the drumming of black fireworks in a midnight blue sky. This can't be, though it is a bitter taste, but it is more than what was. I am the darkness and the sleep in your eye, the flowers of regret, the love letter that come too late.
You should have read between the lines, sweet starlight. Title this: Over the edge, yet we will always rebuild. Title this: The tower is high, and we all fall down. Say: I've learned my lesson and the world is a beautiful place. Say: I'll worry about meaning later, the words must come first.
I've heard the wolves in the wild and the water is unquiet despite the changing of the world. Listen to them howl. Close your eyes and count as the children hide. The kids are alright, as has been said, and fate will always redefine.
And now this is the end and there is nothing left but a single thread -- I am the starlight.
I am the starlight. It isn't you. I am the woman who feigns blamelessness, I am the darkness and the ill-fated love. It isn't you. I am the failed protector and the innocent child. I am the wonder and the joy and the riverbed of sorrow. I am only one and I am sometimes sliding away and I am the truth and I am the permanence. I am all of these things. I am the old and the new. I am a third of the Trinity and I am something more than blasphemy.
It is finally... oh, could it be true?
Yes, it is finally time to be kind.
Is it fate that picked at the small pieces until I came undone? Why do I wonder when the time has come and gone, easing the pain and the joy away into the ether? You have come and gone, my dream, my day to fight, my ray of moonshine vibrating in the morning light. For the in-breath, for the out-breath, my fears lose ground and my brain becomes rewired to understand again a world without. I want to write these dreams again, I still need to, I still wish these words could be put to music and I could be the writer of the music that plays as starlight is born and a child is given life.
I was so confident and strong on the day we were born. I was unstoppable and unbelievable. I was designed for life. I was ready to put a stop to the madness, yet the madness overcame. Was it meant to be? Where were you, my protector? Is this what happens to love when ill-fated, when honest men lie, when women feign blamelessness?
And what about the explosions in the night sky? I hear the drumming of black fireworks in a midnight blue sky. This can't be, though it is a bitter taste, but it is more than what was. I am the darkness and the sleep in your eye, the flowers of regret, the love letter that come too late.
You should have read between the lines, sweet starlight. Title this: Over the edge, yet we will always rebuild. Title this: The tower is high, and we all fall down. Say: I've learned my lesson and the world is a beautiful place. Say: I'll worry about meaning later, the words must come first.
I've heard the wolves in the wild and the water is unquiet despite the changing of the world. Listen to them howl. Close your eyes and count as the children hide. The kids are alright, as has been said, and fate will always redefine.
And now this is the end and there is nothing left but a single thread -- I am the starlight.
I am the starlight. It isn't you. I am the woman who feigns blamelessness, I am the darkness and the ill-fated love. It isn't you. I am the failed protector and the innocent child. I am the wonder and the joy and the riverbed of sorrow. I am only one and I am sometimes sliding away and I am the truth and I am the permanence. I am all of these things. I am the old and the new. I am a third of the Trinity and I am something more than blasphemy.
It is finally... oh, could it be true?
Yes, it is finally time to be kind.
