I saw Hundred Waters last fall when they opened for Julia Holter. They blew her out of the water, and me out of mine. Here are some arpeggios that'll make you wonder if you're dreaming or not.
Hundred Waters "Caverns" from Yours Truly on Vimeo.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Monday, January 7, 2013
self-defense
Smart phones might make for dumb people, but at least you can take cool pictures with them...
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Slow Forward
Tony Z at his finest. Here's to summer -- cut grass and stickball, force kale chips down 11-year-olds throats, put fun out of business. The Lake. Lemme at 'em!
Sanctuary Speak
"The most valuable thoughts which I entertain are anything but what I thought. Nature abhors a vacuum, and if I can only walk with sufficient carelessness I am sure to be filled."
That's Thoreau. Coming home again, and maybe caring too much. I'm swelling with memories and good folk (and quite literally ballooning with food) like a tongue, until it fills the mouth and heads for the throat; it's like the only way out is going back in. Home is someone holding their finger up between your eyes, just out of your range of focus, and hooking the ends of your periphery together until there is nothing but a singular point of fuzzy, visual white noise. This particular return makes me cross-eyed. I care too much when I walk, move when I should sleep, and have thoughts talk over the crackling of the fire. Christmas day bloated too -- fist-sized snowballs and their dashing in a myriad of poofs onto the ground.
Maybe I'll disintegrate too; maybe I have too -- I wonder, per Gretel Ehrlich, "Isn't everything redolent with loss, with momentary radiance, a coming to different?" Each snowflake may be unique, yet all of them, even these big ones, fall and burst or melt, freeze; and on it goes. Nature eats it's tail again, and I feel small, yet integral. I dilate and eventually wane, soften then harden, eat my own tail and find myself at home once again; and in this distillation process I find that sometimes you just have to walk off all the growing pains.
As always, the photo archives provide solace, this time via South Dakota's open spaces. That grass is still crawling and I can look out at the sky and breathe my own wind toward the horizon. Clouds for peanut gallery.
That's Thoreau. Coming home again, and maybe caring too much. I'm swelling with memories and good folk (and quite literally ballooning with food) like a tongue, until it fills the mouth and heads for the throat; it's like the only way out is going back in. Home is someone holding their finger up between your eyes, just out of your range of focus, and hooking the ends of your periphery together until there is nothing but a singular point of fuzzy, visual white noise. This particular return makes me cross-eyed. I care too much when I walk, move when I should sleep, and have thoughts talk over the crackling of the fire. Christmas day bloated too -- fist-sized snowballs and their dashing in a myriad of poofs onto the ground.
Maybe I'll disintegrate too; maybe I have too -- I wonder, per Gretel Ehrlich, "Isn't everything redolent with loss, with momentary radiance, a coming to different?" Each snowflake may be unique, yet all of them, even these big ones, fall and burst or melt, freeze; and on it goes. Nature eats it's tail again, and I feel small, yet integral. I dilate and eventually wane, soften then harden, eat my own tail and find myself at home once again; and in this distillation process I find that sometimes you just have to walk off all the growing pains.
As always, the photo archives provide solace, this time via South Dakota's open spaces. That grass is still crawling and I can look out at the sky and breathe my own wind toward the horizon. Clouds for peanut gallery.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Industrial Lovin'
I've been taking a contact improv dance class this semester, and it's been all sorts of revelational. Guess when you touch other people you touch yourself. Either way, this one is sure to leave you wanting to be able to roll all over someone while maintaining some healthy boundaries... or not.
ps. Let the tunes check your head.
pss. Let the cinematography compartmentalize your head.
psss. Let the rib-cages move you. It's worth the ride.
Sigur Rós - Valtari from Sigur Rós Valtari Mystery Films on Vimeo.
ps. Let the tunes check your head.
pss. Let the cinematography compartmentalize your head.
psss. Let the rib-cages move you. It's worth the ride.
Sigur Rós - Valtari from Sigur Rós Valtari Mystery Films on Vimeo.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Of Course, it's Raining
I'm not a huge R&B guy, but How to Dress Well has pretty much smitten me since their release of "Total Loss" back in September. Came across a great collaboration between Pitchfork (love 'em, hate 'em, at least they helped produce this) and one of my personal favorites, La Blogotheque.
Swoon.
Swoon.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Now: On Repeat (fitting, eh?)
Easily one of my favorite songs on easily one of the best albums of the year now has, easily, one of the trippiest video's of recent memory. Drugs? Something like that...
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