Thursday, November 11, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
From Here to Nowhere
For many years, I've wanted to live at The Brewery. And I will be starting December.
We'll live in an area referred to as the Garden Path. Garden District? Hm. I'll call it the Garden Path District.
We stopped by for a visit this week and the train yard behind the site was making noise. Organic, rolling metals, tracks and mechanicals. I imagined men with grease on their faces, hands and coveralls, shoving coal and levers to push these steel symphonies through America. I saw Carl Sandburg. And the trees blew. It was a very windy night in Los Angeles.
Half of our home will be for living and the other half will be for living. The half that's for the living will have a heavy creative focus and the other half that's for the living will have a heavy creative focus. One side will have a bathroom, washer/dryer, bed. The other half will not.
We'll live in an area referred to as the Garden Path. Garden District? Hm. I'll call it the Garden Path District.
We stopped by for a visit this week and the train yard behind the site was making noise. Organic, rolling metals, tracks and mechanicals. I imagined men with grease on their faces, hands and coveralls, shoving coal and levers to push these steel symphonies through America. I saw Carl Sandburg. And the trees blew. It was a very windy night in Los Angeles.
Half of our home will be for living and the other half will be for living. The half that's for the living will have a heavy creative focus and the other half that's for the living will have a heavy creative focus. One side will have a bathroom, washer/dryer, bed. The other half will not.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Sartre the Unicorn.
It's another wonderful Friday afternoon and everything is exciting. I'm going to write a thesis, encoraging lively discourse from learned halls and hallways. I'll get a PhD. I'll curate new exhibitions, indoctrinating creativity into our supermarkets. Finally. Omaha will get why it's important to recycle and that Obama is not Muslim and if he were, it's OK. I'm going to inspire not only the children but the worn and educated. With my visionary humanities work, I will put an end to crime, to poverty and to hatred. I'm so excited.
On Sunday, I can't write one more paper. I can't afford a mortgage. My miracle Education Arts Unicorn seems so far away. I stare at her now, glowing on her mountain. All I can think, "What will I do?"
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Breakfast of Champion.
I'm buying a loft. I feel like the jokes on me while at the same time, I'm going to get a tax benefit on my rent for once. That I like. I'll miss a garden but I'm not ready for a garden. The pressure is on to get into my photography, my musique concrète, my writing, my painting and you.
I'm going to not care. Every minute or so, I will not care. Again. Again. Again.
I'm going to not care. Every minute or so, I will not care. Again. Again. Again.
Sunday, October 04, 2009
Type Slowly.
Expanded. Now with less rock critic.
Tab One:
It’s hard to say which came first, the indie rock scene or Pavement’s perfection of it, but in the early ‘90s Pavement arrived and their fast growing roster of heavy-on-the-pop post-punk tunes took hold and indie rock history followed. Crafty pop jams built with witty lyrics, treble-kicking guitars, plunging bass lines and Ringo-rivaling drums defined their sound. “Cut Your Hair,” their largest single from their bestselling, Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, showcased their mastery of the low-fi edge, while their preceding Ode to a Cool Chick love song, “Summer Babe,” mastered distorted instruments for a chic and inviting pop anthem. But Pavement’s greatest mastery was their profoundly evolving sound. Take Wowee Zowee’s “Rattled By the Rush,” where gliding melodies present Pavement’s musical interpretation of a Nashville urban sprawl, all the while still retaining Pavement’s boyish charm.
Next up, Pavement’s profoundly evolving sound.
Tab Two:
The thing about Pavement is you come for their raucous attitude, but you stay for their welcoming veneer. When Wowee Zowee arrived, many fans wondered where the noisy jams went but weren't upset by the thoughtful orchestration of their new slower pace – somehow the music seemed friendlier. So as Pavement matured, so did their fans. Songs became melancholy with a psychedelic circus quality, as in, “Motion Suggests,” where keyboards slowly swirled amidst carefully syncopated guitars and washboard instruments or songs became brilliant as heard in Pavement’s Terror Twilight and Brighten The Corners. On these last albums, a great melding of passion and practice create spot-on pop music like the apparent love song, “Spit On a Stranger,” or the tuneful, “Shady Lane.”
Tab One:
It’s hard to say which came first, the indie rock scene or Pavement’s perfection of it, but in the early ‘90s Pavement arrived and their fast growing roster of heavy-on-the-pop post-punk tunes took hold and indie rock history followed. Crafty pop jams built with witty lyrics, treble-kicking guitars, plunging bass lines and Ringo-rivaling drums defined their sound. “Cut Your Hair,” their largest single from their bestselling, Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, showcased their mastery of the low-fi edge, while their preceding Ode to a Cool Chick love song, “Summer Babe,” mastered distorted instruments for a chic and inviting pop anthem. But Pavement’s greatest mastery was their profoundly evolving sound. Take Wowee Zowee’s “Rattled By the Rush,” where gliding melodies present Pavement’s musical interpretation of a Nashville urban sprawl, all the while still retaining Pavement’s boyish charm.
Next up, Pavement’s profoundly evolving sound.
Tab Two:
The thing about Pavement is you come for their raucous attitude, but you stay for their welcoming veneer. When Wowee Zowee arrived, many fans wondered where the noisy jams went but weren't upset by the thoughtful orchestration of their new slower pace – somehow the music seemed friendlier. So as Pavement matured, so did their fans. Songs became melancholy with a psychedelic circus quality, as in, “Motion Suggests,” where keyboards slowly swirled amidst carefully syncopated guitars and washboard instruments or songs became brilliant as heard in Pavement’s Terror Twilight and Brighten The Corners. On these last albums, a great melding of passion and practice create spot-on pop music like the apparent love song, “Spit On a Stranger,” or the tuneful, “Shady Lane.”
Monday, April 27, 2009
Not Tonight.
Is there such a thing as "Going Out Burn-Out"? I have it.
After 20 some odd years of what I call, "aggressive going out," I have pretty much lost my ability to tolerate a show. I get bored. The consideration of going, the ticket dilema, the waiting to go, the day of, the outfit, the shoes, the loss of comfortable couch and early pajamas, the creeping fatigue, the drive over, the parking, the price of parking, the walking to avoid the fee of parking, the talking loudly so you can be heard and hear your compatriot, the compratriotism, the other compatriots at the show, their small-talk, the expensive diet coke, the opening band, your band, the threat of an encore, the audience and then finally, the joy of going home, so tired, it's the middle of the week, you have to go to work tomorrow, to a job where people eMail you how shitty you are, only because they don't believe you're a human, maybe even a nice girl, knows a few jokes, has a boyfriend who likes to play with her, enjoys writing, fumbling with music and learning to draw, photography too, wants nothing more than to do a good job in spite of you and not a hideous, emotionless, idiot droid.
Unless I can sit at the show.
So what do I like now? What do I want to do?
I like to read four books at once, fifth being a dictionary. I like to listen to music at home, comfortable and warm, leaving the pomp away. I like to watch baseball. I like to play cut and paste with musical programs. I like to doodle. I like to write. I like to look at photography. Hiking in parks oddly placed. Bicycles. I dream.
After 20 some odd years of what I call, "aggressive going out," I have pretty much lost my ability to tolerate a show. I get bored. The consideration of going, the ticket dilema, the waiting to go, the day of, the outfit, the shoes, the loss of comfortable couch and early pajamas, the creeping fatigue, the drive over, the parking, the price of parking, the walking to avoid the fee of parking, the talking loudly so you can be heard and hear your compatriot, the compratriotism, the other compatriots at the show, their small-talk, the expensive diet coke, the opening band, your band, the threat of an encore, the audience and then finally, the joy of going home, so tired, it's the middle of the week, you have to go to work tomorrow, to a job where people eMail you how shitty you are, only because they don't believe you're a human, maybe even a nice girl, knows a few jokes, has a boyfriend who likes to play with her, enjoys writing, fumbling with music and learning to draw, photography too, wants nothing more than to do a good job in spite of you and not a hideous, emotionless, idiot droid.
Unless I can sit at the show.
So what do I like now? What do I want to do?
I like to read four books at once, fifth being a dictionary. I like to listen to music at home, comfortable and warm, leaving the pomp away. I like to watch baseball. I like to play cut and paste with musical programs. I like to doodle. I like to write. I like to look at photography. Hiking in parks oddly placed. Bicycles. I dream.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Numbers are So Cool
Everything has a neat name. Everything has cache. Especially if you use the number of it. Like me. I'm No. 1. Or my apartment address is #10. We're a 10. Get it?
I finally saw Gang Gang Dance tonight. I wasn't expecting a dance party like they gave. I felt like I was in New York. I've never been. I also wasn't poorly affected by the young age of most of the audience and actually really enjoyed a lot of the sincerity I saw from them. They weren't so indie rock. They were artsy punk and having a lot of fun. Hooray! Cool shoes.
Gang Gang Dance have not sold out at this hour. This was a thought I had. Did I miss their heydey? Would the cool kids not be there because they've already seen it all? GGD has something out on Warp now but I don't know if they're a Warp band for keeps. But their funk would have me think so.
Drums, guitar, keys, samplers, drum pads, loops, two drums for the singer and a tip of my hat for Ari Up meets Nina Hagen on the dance floor. They covered an MBV song too. Holy Shit. I turned aghast to Ahn, first afraid of a blatant rip off of "I Only Said"'s opening trill. Then the similarity didn't end and we agreed - it was a cover. I always used MBV as part of my Gang Gang Dance description.
I finally saw Gang Gang Dance tonight. I wasn't expecting a dance party like they gave. I felt like I was in New York. I've never been. I also wasn't poorly affected by the young age of most of the audience and actually really enjoyed a lot of the sincerity I saw from them. They weren't so indie rock. They were artsy punk and having a lot of fun. Hooray! Cool shoes.
Gang Gang Dance have not sold out at this hour. This was a thought I had. Did I miss their heydey? Would the cool kids not be there because they've already seen it all? GGD has something out on Warp now but I don't know if they're a Warp band for keeps. But their funk would have me think so.
Drums, guitar, keys, samplers, drum pads, loops, two drums for the singer and a tip of my hat for Ari Up meets Nina Hagen on the dance floor. They covered an MBV song too. Holy Shit. I turned aghast to Ahn, first afraid of a blatant rip off of "I Only Said"'s opening trill. Then the similarity didn't end and we agreed - it was a cover. I always used MBV as part of my Gang Gang Dance description.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Sick Of It All.
Opened the latest Spaceland Blast eMail - this covers Spaceland (hardly go to anymore), The Echo, Echoplex and others. But mostly those tres L.A. nightlife hot spots.
Every time I am disturbed with something, there's always another something reviling within me first.
Fine. I know.
So anyways... I open the eMail and there they are, staring back at me - lackadaisical and scruffy, relationship challenged for both intimate and general social betterment, politically well read for current propositions, beer drinkers. I think I have an attitude problem.
Actually, I know I do.
But truly. Move me to the farm. I just want to make art. Aye! There's the rub.
Open this post and here I am, starting back at you - bitchy, opinionated, breathless in a state of perpetual chafe, relationship challenged for both intimate and general social betterment, well read in all politics.
Every time I am disturbed with something, there's always another something reviling within me first.
Fine. I know.
So anyways... I open the eMail and there they are, staring back at me - lackadaisical and scruffy, relationship challenged for both intimate and general social betterment, politically well read for current propositions, beer drinkers. I think I have an attitude problem.
Actually, I know I do.
But truly. Move me to the farm. I just want to make art. Aye! There's the rub.
Open this post and here I am, starting back at you - bitchy, opinionated, breathless in a state of perpetual chafe, relationship challenged for both intimate and general social betterment, well read in all politics.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Every Friday and Saturday Night...
I'll just say one thing, God is good. Miriam Makeba died on stage singing and singing Pata Pata.
When I was probably 10 I found my dad's copy of Miriam Makeba's first album. Lucky little girl to find this spirit of Miriam Makeba's sweet foreign sound. After I discovered Miriam, it was years before I would consider a spin with her husband Hugh Masekela's LP. How could he compare? Would I dance around and sing like that? Hard to consider that from a trumpeter. But that was the humor and dedication. Couldn't risk missing listening to her.
I sang along with no idea what I was saying. She was just so groovy and it was so good. She had joy. She makes you discover that a wiggle is a dance and your smile is your groove.
The song that got me the most was The Click Song. I loved her introduction explaining the click was referring to her dialect. But what I loved the most was how she belted out those last notes, so loud and full. She chimes and resonates like jubilant honey. You swear you're living for real now. You have discovered bliss. You've discovered heaven on earth.
When I was probably 10 I found my dad's copy of Miriam Makeba's first album. Lucky little girl to find this spirit of Miriam Makeba's sweet foreign sound. After I discovered Miriam, it was years before I would consider a spin with her husband Hugh Masekela's LP. How could he compare? Would I dance around and sing like that? Hard to consider that from a trumpeter. But that was the humor and dedication. Couldn't risk missing listening to her.
I sang along with no idea what I was saying. She was just so groovy and it was so good. She had joy. She makes you discover that a wiggle is a dance and your smile is your groove.
The song that got me the most was The Click Song. I loved her introduction explaining the click was referring to her dialect. But what I loved the most was how she belted out those last notes, so loud and full. She chimes and resonates like jubilant honey. You swear you're living for real now. You have discovered bliss. You've discovered heaven on earth.
The Garden of Earthly Delights
Chris' new job - The Thirty Meter Telescope.
That's a big telescope. He actually worked on some of the designs a few years back. The Canadians took it, didn't do much so he's going to do it again. Here's what they say: "A 30-meter telescope, operating in wavelengths ranging from the ultraviolet to the mid-infrared, is an essential tool to address questions in astronomy ranging from understanding star and planet formation to unraveling the history of galaxies and the development of large-scale structure in the universe. The 30-meter aperture permits the telescope to focus more sharply than smaller telescopes by using the power of diffraction of light. The large aperture also collects more light than smaller scopes, allowing images of fainter objects. TMT will therefore reach further and see more clearly than previous telescopes by a factor of 10 to 100 depending on the observation."
Dig? Word.
I like the new telescope project. Now Chris wants to go to camping possibly so we can enjoy the starry sky he's building to. I love to camp.
So bailout the car companies - they are too big to let drop. BUT they must Go Green. Create jobs by creating Green Jobs. Same thing as when we made military ships during Truman but now we're Green and peaceful.
That's a big telescope. He actually worked on some of the designs a few years back. The Canadians took it, didn't do much so he's going to do it again. Here's what they say: "A 30-meter telescope, operating in wavelengths ranging from the ultraviolet to the mid-infrared, is an essential tool to address questions in astronomy ranging from understanding star and planet formation to unraveling the history of galaxies and the development of large-scale structure in the universe. The 30-meter aperture permits the telescope to focus more sharply than smaller telescopes by using the power of diffraction of light. The large aperture also collects more light than smaller scopes, allowing images of fainter objects. TMT will therefore reach further and see more clearly than previous telescopes by a factor of 10 to 100 depending on the observation."
Dig? Word.
I like the new telescope project. Now Chris wants to go to camping possibly so we can enjoy the starry sky he's building to. I love to camp.
So bailout the car companies - they are too big to let drop. BUT they must Go Green. Create jobs by creating Green Jobs. Same thing as when we made military ships during Truman but now we're Green and peaceful.
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Monday, October 13, 2008
Swimming Pool
I dreamt I swam in my new pool. I swam poorly but in reality I am a fish. I dove and kept cruising right to the bottom. Couldn't find my swimsuit then *BLING*, a Magic Dream Swimsuit appeared. A one piece.
After the winds die down I hope it's warm enough at least to enjoy some laps in it. It's so small, I hope I can make a lap in it. Its safety insurance bars are annoying and funny looking. But I want to swim in it still.
I dreamt that a bag lady started yelling at me, trying to freak me out. I wasn't having it. She didn't know I wasn't the one to pull that shit on. She got it.
So that was weird and so was diving to the pool in my Magic Dream Swimsuit. Do you ever think about what Hilary Clinton dreamt of after Sarah Palin got on the McCain ticket? I mean the symbolism driven by so much depression, anger, pride and fear must've been so juicy.
After the winds die down I hope it's warm enough at least to enjoy some laps in it. It's so small, I hope I can make a lap in it. Its safety insurance bars are annoying and funny looking. But I want to swim in it still.
I dreamt that a bag lady started yelling at me, trying to freak me out. I wasn't having it. She didn't know I wasn't the one to pull that shit on. She got it.
So that was weird and so was diving to the pool in my Magic Dream Swimsuit. Do you ever think about what Hilary Clinton dreamt of after Sarah Palin got on the McCain ticket? I mean the symbolism driven by so much depression, anger, pride and fear must've been so juicy.
Friday, October 03, 2008
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