Sometimes, I enjoy a song enough to write about it.

AHEM:

I never intended to ever make a music-themed blog. Granted, my life somewhat revolves around the discovery and intense evaluation of the music that is accidentally and purposefully introduced to my nice little ears, but I quit the writing part so many years ago after I came to the conclusion that my style was much to be desired, sucked, etc. After the time it took to get over myself, I feel confident about throwin' this shit around for anyone who wants to pick it up and find or make some good out of it. This blog is not going to be just music, because that is not the way my life works.... makes sense.

So, the Cave Singers.

I saw them open for Department of Eagles in January, which is actually one of the first shows I have ever gone to in Seattle, which is a big shame. I really enjoy DoE; in the same way that I enjoy a trip to New York Shitty. It's fun for a day, charming, I get very exicted and smile a lot. But, it doesn't quite stir my innards. I know that it ain't for me entirely, that I could enjoy it for a bit but ultimately move onto something that feels like a better fit.

Hohum, anyway, the Cave Singers. I was kinda late walking into Neumos..but I caught these lads only about a song or two into their set. Only three of them?..the singers got a tambourine and a voice of a 12-year old smoker. The guitarest is fingerpicking some southern appalachian blues and the drummer is just smiling and waiting. I instantly liked the way they stood up there, close together, the singer wearing a knit hat and a sweatshirt, with a bushy beard and his eyes closed. Friend Pile. Foot stomping and head shaking was his preferred method of dance, he looked as if he couldn't help it; I get so excited when people cannot hold in what they feel.
Whatever kind of thing they expected to be creating when they started doesn't matter. The music is in no way complex, and the only thing slightly folkish about it is the guitar strumming. Its atmosphere is so rich with celebration, little hymnlets to us, I envsion wooden houses, meadows, summer evening sun, heavy air. .. it feels like music that was born out of the Smokey Mountains, written by a thought heavy man who remembers when he was the only one around and is married to nature.

Helen, by the Cave Singers. This one stuck around the party in my head for days after this show was over. I think it stuck out to me because the joint was absolutely silent; this guy had command of everyone in that room during this song and I must bow my body low in the presense of a power like that.


That's it, I really gotta go get some dinner in my belly.

griseous

One of my closest, dearest friends of the past ten years just left Seattle to go back to New York. I feel the slight edge of loneliness trying to find its place in me, but she revived my attitude in such a positive fashion, I have succeeded in resisting the urge to be melancholy! I didn't even know I was capable of ignoring an opportunity to wallow. I am giving myself a big hug. MOTIVATION!! To draw, to move onward and to realize that I do not want to stay in Seattle. I do not want to work these shitty jobs, only looking forward to the beer I waste myself on afterwords.. I need the past two years of accidental laziness to end!! Here is my declaration post, I will only do what is necessary for me to calm down and live these days as I want, without feeling the nausea in my stomach, worrying about the future I carry around on my shoulders. FUCK THE FUTURE. FUCK ALL THAT SHIT, I'M TAKING MYSELF AND I'M GETTIN' OUTTA HERE!!!

Apologies. I feel crazies. I only slept three hours, not counting the hour of sleep Nichki and I got in Kellyn's car outside of the starbucks in Tukwila, waiting for her flight. We both curled up like unborn babes in the front seats. She had a scarf wrapped around her face to block the sun, I pulled my black cap down over my eyes. In retrospect, we looked kinda kidnapped. Whatever the case may be, not much or comfortable sleep was had by any.

I am sad, but only because I love someone, so it's a good thing.

my main man

Trying to dig up motivation from one of my favorite masterminds, I found some of Jan Svenkmajer's diary entries from when he was making Little Otik. I always want to know how other artists go about their work, he does not disappoint me. In fact, the man kinda went above and beyond, not only talking about the process of creation but every other secular and humanly worry he discovers in his head; thank you meester svenkmajer for reminding me that I should stay humbled.

Onwards! to this cute selection. He's like a dad.

5 February 1999

"I've put together the first Otesánek. He has bent little legs, slightly askew right shoulder, a distinctive gob and a wee willy. Lots of little fingers and toes."

and another.....

14 March 1999

"I still keep saying and put it on paper that I am not interested in art and, at the same time, I make films, projects, drawings, collages etc, and collect paintings and drawings and other artistic artefacts. So, how is it? I am not interested in art. That is, art with a big A. But I am interested in certain artists, or more accurately certain works of art by certain artists but not because I consider them to be more "artistic" than other works or because they strike my "sense of beauty" but because they touch something more important which exceeds the concept of art—that is, the basis of life, in another words, a form of inner still undefined imagination (which is nothing else than prima materia of our existence). A work of art which manages to break through into this "secret" underground imagination, the deeper the better—only such a piece I find interesting because it liberates a human being. And liberation is the only meaningful activity of a human."

Here here!

I'd like to start this out by saying that today and yesterday and the day before that, all of those days, together, were most definitely some sort of reality warp placed upon me to test my strength, and resilience to INSANITY.

Sunday night was Big D's big 3-0 birthday. I was almost saved from my future pain by going to sleep early that night, but David himself called me at 11 pm, to whole heartedly and drunkenly rouse me from my bed with promises of a free cab ride. Me, unable to say "NO." to fun, took him up on it. Loud kinda shitty punk music at the comet ensued; lots of beer also...and corn chips and laying down in juniper bushes and dancing, dirty-style. These older chaps were very wasted, and were wonderful to observe. We ran into Jef(f) S, on the way to Sara's house and he, in his own little drunk state, followed us to dance. DANCING is an excellent activity to eliminate stress and create bonds between two people of opposite yet attracted sexes who very obviously need/want to kiss each other for no other reason besides "I'm on vacation." or "I'm trying to explore my blooming and unhinging sexuality; but I refuse to feel like a slut because of masculine stereotypes."

Also because there is a small happiness that is shared without words.

I'm going to go all girl right now:

In trying to decipher my usual favorite physical qualities in a man, the realistic patterns present me with this; slender(skinny), blonde, smaller than me. However, what my atoms really ache for is something unannounced. I don't know what I am going to wake up tommorrow and find attractive. Today it was a short kid my age with a raggy suit and a gap between his teeth (a weird secret thing I wanted as a kid and still find so alluring..I mean, the confidence to keep a gap unfixed is so sweet and purely it kills me).

It is more the non-physical qualities that are unwavering for me, which I'm sure most people would agree with; but here is the problem I'm faced with; I am so intrigued by people's individuality, that I often find myself falling in love with people that I don't really like. It is a problem simply because it skews what I really truly value in a man. Instead of liking someone because they contain all of the stuff I find appealing, I am pairing myself up with those who don't quite make the cut, but it doesn't matter because I "fill it in later", using my imagination to convince myself that these dudes actually are great. What a joke...well at least I'm aware of it.

Springtime is nipping my heels into some sort of happy motivation dance, and I'm feeling more able then I have in many american months.

I am also currently suffering from the Plague, so I'm afraid this is my exit. (From this post, not from life)


PS. The Breakfast Club is such a kickass movie, even though it's taking me four hours to get through it.