….atlas! the generations must,
as fate’s mysterious purpose burrows,
reap a brief harvest on their furrows;
they rise and ripen and fall dead:
others will follow where they tread…
and thus our race, so fluctuating,
grows, surges, boils, for lack of room
presses it’s forbears to the tomb
we too shall find our hour is waiting;
it will be our descendents too
out of this world will crowd us too.
-pushkin
I saw a drunk homeless guy on the bus today. He almost fell on me. He was wearing a shirt that said “no one can hurt you like family”. It bummed me out.
I’ve been learning a cover this weekend. man it’s tough trying to play in someone else’s style. i really love the lyrics to this song. I think they are so great, they sound like they should belong to someone famous and dead.
city bird
by of montreal
City bird haven’t you heard
hasn’t anybody told you?
These city blocks can’t hold you
Your place is in the sky how can I show you?
City bird haven’t you learned
of the boundlessness of your freedom
The sky is your blue kingdom
You neglect your wings like you don’t need them
City bird maybe these hands that feed you need you
Maybe you understand that city bird
Ive been a fan of gonzales for a few years. Besides being and incredible piano player, i knew little about this canadian-born musician. This week the Arts and Crafts label released his solo piano CD along with a DVD of some live performances. I’ve since learned that he’s released several eminem style rap albums(????), he’s a famed producer making records for feist and jamie liddell, he’s colaborated with peaches, and he’s sort of a comedian. His solo piano stuff is the best. He reaches such technical and emotional heights with these pieces. He’s truly a a genius. I think he’s in league with jon brion. That’s the only person i know who comes close to being as skillful. I hope he comes to seattle soon. Here is my favorite youtube video of his.
a poem:
on nights like tonight
when the stations come in clear
every note of every chord
like a bell in into my ear
the peripheral sounds
they do not mean a thing
go ahead and blur it out
with a twist of the focus ring
our love was a song
it went on and on and on
into the morning hour
the sweetest grapes became so sour
but now we know what we’re made of
the paint is all chipped away
the wheels are falling off
and they’re towing it away
i was a cold automatic beast
sometimes i was your lover
you combat me as a foe
you protect me like a mother
it’s not a ship coming to port
or a holiday parade
a big band finale
it’s just a cool spot in the shade
our love was just a whisper
spoken softly in the night
it picked up and floated on
unable to be made right
First off: I hate band bios. I hate ones that people write for me, and i hate ones that i’ve had to write for myself. I don’t care if the drums are “pounding”(isn’t that inherent?) or that the melodies are intricate. It just seems silly to describe music. Here’s my most recent attempt at a bio. it’s more of an anti-bio, really. I’m trying to focus on describing the heart behind it, rather than the music itself.
Bio:
I want to make white man spirituals. I want to give names to the ghosts, as a way of saying “we know who you are”. I want to explore facets of our lives that are bestial, as well as ones that are angelic. i want to make guesses about who you are. I want to arrive slowly, and leave swiftly. I want to peer through the largest telescope, squint through the most powerful microscope, and see infinity stretch in both directions. I want to somehow recognize our significance in spite of this. That’s a tough one. I want to turn stones and cringe. Not because it feels goods. It does not feel good, but it’s the right thing to do. I should de-construct what was built while i was sleeping. I want to laugh at our position on the map. I want to stop obsessively searching for truth, and appreciate the ambiguity of living a human life.
A dream:
I was at a yard sale. I am looking through random coffee mugs, old issues of time magazine and plaid shirts from 1976. I pick up a novel that looks interesting. It has a tattered cover that pictures a man riding a horse through a mountain pass. It was only $.25. I take the book home and i begin to read it. I realize that the book is about me and my life. The name of the main character is different than my own, but it strangely parallels the decisions i’ve had to make in recent years and i know without a doubt the book is about me. I begin to feel troubled because there are pages and whole sections of the book that are completely missing. I become obssesed with finding the missing passages. I have a hunch that if I am a character in this book, then the other characters must also be real people who are currently alive.
I search blog posts for the title of the book. I do find people who are alive, who do have a copy of the book. They also believe that the book is depicting themselves, and the book is bringing us together for a purpose. I discover what the purpose is, and what my role is. I am to lead this group of people, in one of the the strangest human endeavors ever. We are somehow co-opting our souls together. We are going to make a collective soul that will go into the afterlife together. No longer will i have to fear death as a singular journey, because we will be going together.
It’s at this point that i wake up.
