windows down

yesterday it was fifty five degrees fahrenheit at midnight.  one of the many times i woke up during that night i walked over to the window.  looking at the moon and sky there was no indication that it was the dead of winter.  it was difficult to fall back unconscious because i couldn’t wait to wake up and drive to the gym windows-down.  i suppose the lullaby music i picked didn’t help as it left my hair wind tousled on the pillow:  “summertime clothes”, “when i’m with you”, and “an ode to maybe”.  everything is better with the windows down.

two dimensional friends

i’ve been spending more time in my music room lately so i decided to do some redecorating.  one set of posters down and a new class of inspirational laminated paper up.  hanging posters always ends up being an all day job.  having guitars within easy reach it becomes quite necessary to christen each poster’s attachment to the wall with at least a few bars from the band imprinted upon it.  inevitably something is not quite right and there is time spent fiddling with dials and throwing falsetto lyrics about.  by the time the adhesive settles all the bands have heard several covers of their own work and i’ve lost hours of my day.  i wonder if things like this help my progression as a musician or if they just help my progression toward a divorce from reality.  my stylist says my hair has been growing faster lately.  it could go either way.

cranberry raspberry

this article discusses the reason why humans remember the third decade of their lives with much better clarity than any other time period (via unfogged). i think the theory of the reminiscence bump coinciding with the period of identity formation has serious credence.  i have another theory, though.  i think that the level of a human’s perceived hope is proportional to the sharpness of their memories. very early on we are incapable of understanding what is beyond our environment.  during childhood we may see what we can’t grasp but we have no immediate hope of attaining it.  however, when the freedom to roam and explore and make bad decisions comes rushing at us like a dam bursting in early adulthood everything is perceived to be at our fingertips.  the immediate hope of something better, something different, something unknown fills us.  we lose that hope slowly as the marrow of our destiny ossifies.

i started drinking diet snapple at nineteen.  i’m not sure there is a clearer memory in my head.

boomerang

the warm virtual embrace of a long lost friend found again is like leaving the snow and stepping into a dark cozy pub where everything has a citrus tint. the smell of wood and slightly stale spirits is easily recognizable and the worn flat wooden chair backs cause a familiar twinge in the spine.  but in relief of the semi-bright areas lie the shadows of unexplored crevasses waiting to be bathed in the light of conversation and anecdotes.  the excitement of the new and the comfort of the familiar blended together and hand rolled.  

the denim room

i have a denim room.  it’s not actually made of denim, of course.  it is painted dark-washed textured blue.  there are also silver dragonflies stenciled over top.  the room existed in this way when i bought the house and i had always planned on changing it, but in a surprisingly human fashion i have become accustomed to it over the years.  it is whimsical and it allows me to break the confines of a self-imposed benjamin moore prison.  i have been spending more and more time there lately, listening to music and watching the walls and ceiling.  i dare not sleep there, though, for fear of the dragonflies coming to life at night.

waiting

“the easiest way to bring the future to you is to forget everything.”

“lose awareness and lose the notion of waiting?”

“something like that, but with an eject button.”

“i’ve always wanted to push one of those.”

“forgetting is never as easy as you’d think.  it’s a game of hide-and-seek and misdirection with the one entity that knows you best.”

            “my go-to place was the neighbor’s shed.  the rats…”

“but when you get it right you wake up one afternoon and future is in front of you and every second in between has not been counted.”

            “i wonder why it takes so long to piss at this club.”

rules change

not as though i needed empirical evidence to support this, but the fact that my immediate reaction to the track recommended by t.price in this post was related entirely to the fact that npr used a service named rdio (pronounced "arrr-dee-ooo") to deliver it speaks volumes about the current state in which i find myself.

are we really going to start referring to the omission of vowels as innovation? have we already reached that point? should i even care? t. price's recommendations are always highly considered, but i'm too worked up to focus on this one. what ever happened to napster and the year 1999?

beach monster

everything about strfkr’s beach monster (it’s the last song at the bottom) screams, or, more accurately, deliberately coos comfort.  the background hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses appeal to the basic human need for social interaction, making the listener feel enveloped by the soft downy padding of vocal static and the occasional laugh.  slide guitar is intrinsically adagio.  it may, of course, become unresolved at some point but it always finds its way back to its root before the song’s end.  the use of delay on the vocals conveys a dreamy half-reality where one can be both in a railroad tunnel and in bed at the same time.  in addition the modulated vocal harmonies recall wholesome radio ads from the nineteen thirties.  most importantly, though, at two minutes in length beach monster fills the gap nicely between swigs of single malt straight from the bottle. pace is the trick.

daily routine

having tried to figure out why i am not more famous through years of deep introspection i can still find no reason.  i thought perhaps a glimpse into hunter thompson’s daily routine would reveal some glaring differences but, alas, no.  we are like two swigs of the same bottle of rum.  the only things i found odd were the amount of orange juice he drinks (clearly embellished) and blended scotch?  don’t make me vomit up my breakfast snow.

bright lights

having spent the last few years enduring the unflinching weather patterns of londontown - omnipresent gloom at its best - there is a feeling of comfort that comes with my first winter back in the southern portion of these united states. i missed the sun and i believe it missed me. 

as to the dynamic nature (not to mention fate) of the wardrobe that i had built to handle those conditions which are now in the past - i continue to keep an open mind when it comes to assessing challenges.

we like to party

            i’m not into beyonce but i’m into caroline.  and i’ve been into kool a.d. ever since that one time i found myself in a taco bell inexplicably after being in that pizza hut.  i was pretty confused since i was actually trying to get to k.f.c. to steal wet-naps.    

            here’s caroline and chairlift with kool a.d. reaching deep down for soul with “party”.  this is absolutely the only band i want to play my wedding.  well them or some drunk guy with an ipod.  

lava rainbows

i think the accompanying sound for sunlight through leaded glass in the morning is a warm acoustic guitar being picked or lightly strummed.  for midday the best match is ethereal synth or human voices in harmonies.  think “gypsy woman (she’s homeless)” or “wouldn’t it be nice”.

my leaded windows splay tens of small rainbows across my floor in the afternoon.  today i hopscotched between them pretending they were lava, singing along with “digital love”.  i didn’t need to hop on the way back in the other direction, of course, because my shadow quenched them before me.  i still sang though.

velocity

i don't listen anymore. 

there is an awareness that sound exists but i'm into simple packaging - demands, acquiescence, objections. these add up to something, i'm sure, but calculating the sum always feels more elusive than assuming the meaning of the parts. 

i need to move faster, think less, consuming only what is necessary. there is a question of whether it was engineered to be this way from the start. the facts seem to point away from the affirmative, which concerns me less than one would think. the speed is intoxicating and i feel anything but obligated to consider alternatives.

paper

my favorite part about books is their static nature.  they are outside time. they are fluid, free to be followed backwards, forwards, or in random discrete jumps.  find the sentence you last read before the end of the world and be welcomed back without bias.  with a few flicks of the finger and a flutter of air the scene can be replayed.  it is an amazing feeling when you realize you can trick the universe and replay sections of your life again in real time, finding that same happiness that existed chapters ago.  of course this is only possible under the right conditions and it is ever so delicate.  i’m going to savor mine until i lose balance.

when you take a sip you buzz like a hornet

restringing a guitar is probably the most calming repetitive task i know.   the smell of spanish cypress compels me to hug my guitar’s body warmly.  the feel of the peaks and valleys of the wound bronze strings running across skin provides a sharp contrast to the smooth wood.  the chirping of skin sliding over the strings recalls the sound of sneakers against the floor of a gymnasium.  the first pluck of the new string produces a buzz that is felt in that one place deep in the chest.  you know the one.  i find it impossible to be upset by the time the last string is in place.