Music: Radiohead - Lucky - OK Computer
Mood: Anxious
There is this vauge feeling of uncertainty which reminds me that in a few short hours, I will be saying goodbye to 2005. It's rather melodramatic to make such declarations, but I can vividly recall the dawn of last year- how confused I was about the direction of my life, and how I lacked the focus and discipline to get anywhere that was worth being. More to the point, this year was perhaps the first in which I stopped to take stock of my situation, and how I wanted to remedy my path.
2005 was a radical year of growth and prosperity; but it could have crumbled to pieces if at any point I let my mind wander. The good days were so amazing in their own right, that no substance could replicate the satisfaction. The bad days were so deradfully bleak, that I often wondered when the veil would be lifted. In general, the good never tasted better, and the bad never tasted as bitter. It was a year of Yin & Yang, completely based on perception.
I learned quickly that while the composition of my days was fixed by external factors, my outlook on the things I had to do was malleable to my whim. This was the single greatest lesson I learned this year. I can't hate on what was, or where I came from this year. Everything was worth occuring, and had a reason. So I don't crib about how things turned out, or when things got really dreadful. I kept some perspective in the back of my mind, and that really helped me to stay afloat.
So thank you, 2005, for being my worst enemy and best friend. I don't know what else to say, except that "today is going to be a glorious day," (thanks Thom Yorke).
Happy New Year~!
Mood: Anxious
There is this vauge feeling of uncertainty which reminds me that in a few short hours, I will be saying goodbye to 2005. It's rather melodramatic to make such declarations, but I can vividly recall the dawn of last year- how confused I was about the direction of my life, and how I lacked the focus and discipline to get anywhere that was worth being. More to the point, this year was perhaps the first in which I stopped to take stock of my situation, and how I wanted to remedy my path.
2005 was a radical year of growth and prosperity; but it could have crumbled to pieces if at any point I let my mind wander. The good days were so amazing in their own right, that no substance could replicate the satisfaction. The bad days were so deradfully bleak, that I often wondered when the veil would be lifted. In general, the good never tasted better, and the bad never tasted as bitter. It was a year of Yin & Yang, completely based on perception.
I learned quickly that while the composition of my days was fixed by external factors, my outlook on the things I had to do was malleable to my whim. This was the single greatest lesson I learned this year. I can't hate on what was, or where I came from this year. Everything was worth occuring, and had a reason. So I don't crib about how things turned out, or when things got really dreadful. I kept some perspective in the back of my mind, and that really helped me to stay afloat.
So thank you, 2005, for being my worst enemy and best friend. I don't know what else to say, except that "today is going to be a glorious day," (thanks Thom Yorke).
Happy New Year~!
Music: Plus-44 - No It Isn't
Mood: Impervious to Distraction
Our place;
Between my gasping breathes,
Resonating between my guitar strings,
Cacooned in a sheet of rain,
Suspended in my dreams.
I pass by sometimes,
To see the things I've kept here,
They’re never the way I left them last.
There are traces of perfume-
Imprints upon the bed.
I know you visit too;
Even if you hate to admit so...
Mood: Impervious to Distraction
Our place;
Between my gasping breathes,
Resonating between my guitar strings,
Cacooned in a sheet of rain,
Suspended in my dreams.
I pass by sometimes,
To see the things I've kept here,
They’re never the way I left them last.
There are traces of perfume-
Imprints upon the bed.
I know you visit too;
Even if you hate to admit so...
The Shins - Chutes Too Narrow
I love acoustic music. It's true, I do indeed have a soft spot in my heart for the stripped-down, folky vibe that you get when your favorite artist picks up an Ovation and launches into a version of a classic, wholly unoriginal but nevertheless gratifying. On The Shins first album, Oh! Inverted World, the sonic landscape was distorted by excess reverb and electric jargon that disguised the melodic brilliance of James Mercer and Co. On Chutes Too Narrow, the blanket has been lifted, and the complexity and grace revealed underneath possess a surprisingly depth. Every instrument is allowed to exist in its own space, no longer smoothed together by excessive reverb. Mercer's voice resides comfortably at the front of the mix, revealing previously undiscovered layers of emotional subtlety and expressiveness. Every sound and syllable is perfectly and distinctly articulated, granting the album a much greater capacity for detail and profundity.
And then there are the songs. Dear God, the songs! The uniqueness and inventiveness of James Mercer's melodic sensibility simply cannot be overstated. On Chutes Too Narrow, as with its predecessor, Mercer makes brilliant use of his formidable vocal range, writing soaring melodies every bit as original as they are memorable. "Saint Simon", one of two or three songs on the record that could easily contend for song of the year, sees Mercer exploring an almost Bacharach-ian level of melodic sophistication. The track is host to an elegance of exposition and development not even hinted at on Oh! Inverted World, as it seamlessly segues from a straightforward pop hook to an ungodly gorgeous choral segment, replete with lush strings and chiming guitars. By the time Mercer reenters with a perfectly aching vocal melody, it's almost unbearable-- this is the kind of song that overwhelms simply with the intricacy of its beauty. Not simply an excellent album, Chutes Too Narrow is also a powerful testament to pop music's capacity for depth, beauty and expressiveness.
I love acoustic music. It's true, I do indeed have a soft spot in my heart for the stripped-down, folky vibe that you get when your favorite artist picks up an Ovation and launches into a version of a classic, wholly unoriginal but nevertheless gratifying. On The Shins first album, Oh! Inverted World, the sonic landscape was distorted by excess reverb and electric jargon that disguised the melodic brilliance of James Mercer and Co. On Chutes Too Narrow, the blanket has been lifted, and the complexity and grace revealed underneath possess a surprisingly depth. Every instrument is allowed to exist in its own space, no longer smoothed together by excessive reverb. Mercer's voice resides comfortably at the front of the mix, revealing previously undiscovered layers of emotional subtlety and expressiveness. Every sound and syllable is perfectly and distinctly articulated, granting the album a much greater capacity for detail and profundity.
And then there are the songs. Dear God, the songs! The uniqueness and inventiveness of James Mercer's melodic sensibility simply cannot be overstated. On Chutes Too Narrow, as with its predecessor, Mercer makes brilliant use of his formidable vocal range, writing soaring melodies every bit as original as they are memorable. "Saint Simon", one of two or three songs on the record that could easily contend for song of the year, sees Mercer exploring an almost Bacharach-ian level of melodic sophistication. The track is host to an elegance of exposition and development not even hinted at on Oh! Inverted World, as it seamlessly segues from a straightforward pop hook to an ungodly gorgeous choral segment, replete with lush strings and chiming guitars. By the time Mercer reenters with a perfectly aching vocal melody, it's almost unbearable-- this is the kind of song that overwhelms simply with the intricacy of its beauty. Not simply an excellent album, Chutes Too Narrow is also a powerful testament to pop music's capacity for depth, beauty and expressiveness.
The Game - The Documentary
Hip-Hop is dead to me; I feel nothing for 50 Cent and his incessant misogynistic pandering. I don't care about Run DMC, A Tribe Called Quest, and other venerable pioneers of said genre. Perhaps it's foolish for me to completley write-off a brand of music on the pretense that the composition has debased itself to an all time low (unless you're from the South, in which case you're probably thrilled with such a Renaissance), but with bland acts like Clipse and Young Jeezy shouldering the load, it's easy to feel let down. Hip-hop music is the two-car accident on the shoulder of the 101- you can't help but slow down to take a peek, but after feeling unsatisfied by your look, you speed off towards your inevitable destination.
Alas, I do have somewhat of a bias towards the Rock genre, and I am the first to admit it. But, I have my merits for aligning myself in such a fashion. You see, not to long ago, I was knee-deep in the antics of the Rap game, spending midnight hours beat-boxing and jumping in freestyle cyphers that taught me, if anything, than an Indian boy from LA is not intrinsically blessed to compete with fellows from the D. But I persevered, because there some intangible element about being apart of the Hip-Hop scene that made me feel 'cool'. I honed my love for the Rap world through Dr. Dre's Chronic 2001, which was unquestionably the seminal record of my high-school insecurities. My west-coast background amplified my love for Dre's production and overt lyrical barbs, which I memorized in turn, and spit out in defiance whenever an opportunity presented itself. But with age came a greater understanding of the truth- that Hip-Hop was not satisfying. Underneath the candy-coated layers of production were people, just like moi, with genuine problems that I had no way of relating to. I have no alimony concerns, no drug-trafficking charges pending, and have yet to be arrested for a generic weapons violation. Disillusioned, I left the music behind, and had turned a blind eye to the Rap game, until January.
Enter The Game. A couple of months ago, Vibe published an article lamenting the decline of New York hip-hop. With Southern and Midwestern rappers rising to prominence over the past few years, the birthplace of hip-hop has only constituted about a third of rap radio playlists. But the article's unspoken question was: What's going on with the West? The Compton MC made a name for himself on the mixtape scene that made 50 Cent a star; it made perfect sense for him to become the first West Coast representative of G-Unit. And having spent the past few months embroiled in pointless beefs with also-rans like Joe Budden and Yukmouth-- and getting hammered from all sides-- Game needs more than ever to deliver a debut to back up his talk.
Now he has: The Documentary is the best West Coast street-rap album since DJ Quik's 2002 LP Under tha Influence. All of the G-Unit solo albums thus far have been aesthetically unified, a rarity in hip-hop; the tracks on The Documentary actually sound like they belong on the same album. Dre produces five of the album's 17 songs, applying his recent stripped-down cinematic style, and many of the record's other producers follow his lead. Superstar beatmakers like Timbaland and Kanye West hold back on their signature tics, fitting their usual approaches into the album's fabric. The end result is a rich, triumphant sonic tapestry; you can hear every dollar that went into it.
Hip-Hop is dead to me; I feel nothing for 50 Cent and his incessant misogynistic pandering. I don't care about Run DMC, A Tribe Called Quest, and other venerable pioneers of said genre. Perhaps it's foolish for me to completley write-off a brand of music on the pretense that the composition has debased itself to an all time low (unless you're from the South, in which case you're probably thrilled with such a Renaissance), but with bland acts like Clipse and Young Jeezy shouldering the load, it's easy to feel let down. Hip-hop music is the two-car accident on the shoulder of the 101- you can't help but slow down to take a peek, but after feeling unsatisfied by your look, you speed off towards your inevitable destination.
Alas, I do have somewhat of a bias towards the Rock genre, and I am the first to admit it. But, I have my merits for aligning myself in such a fashion. You see, not to long ago, I was knee-deep in the antics of the Rap game, spending midnight hours beat-boxing and jumping in freestyle cyphers that taught me, if anything, than an Indian boy from LA is not intrinsically blessed to compete with fellows from the D. But I persevered, because there some intangible element about being apart of the Hip-Hop scene that made me feel 'cool'. I honed my love for the Rap world through Dr. Dre's Chronic 2001, which was unquestionably the seminal record of my high-school insecurities. My west-coast background amplified my love for Dre's production and overt lyrical barbs, which I memorized in turn, and spit out in defiance whenever an opportunity presented itself. But with age came a greater understanding of the truth- that Hip-Hop was not satisfying. Underneath the candy-coated layers of production were people, just like moi, with genuine problems that I had no way of relating to. I have no alimony concerns, no drug-trafficking charges pending, and have yet to be arrested for a generic weapons violation. Disillusioned, I left the music behind, and had turned a blind eye to the Rap game, until January.
Enter The Game. A couple of months ago, Vibe published an article lamenting the decline of New York hip-hop. With Southern and Midwestern rappers rising to prominence over the past few years, the birthplace of hip-hop has only constituted about a third of rap radio playlists. But the article's unspoken question was: What's going on with the West? The Compton MC made a name for himself on the mixtape scene that made 50 Cent a star; it made perfect sense for him to become the first West Coast representative of G-Unit. And having spent the past few months embroiled in pointless beefs with also-rans like Joe Budden and Yukmouth-- and getting hammered from all sides-- Game needs more than ever to deliver a debut to back up his talk.
Now he has: The Documentary is the best West Coast street-rap album since DJ Quik's 2002 LP Under tha Influence. All of the G-Unit solo albums thus far have been aesthetically unified, a rarity in hip-hop; the tracks on The Documentary actually sound like they belong on the same album. Dre produces five of the album's 17 songs, applying his recent stripped-down cinematic style, and many of the record's other producers follow his lead. Superstar beatmakers like Timbaland and Kanye West hold back on their signature tics, fitting their usual approaches into the album's fabric. The end result is a rich, triumphant sonic tapestry; you can hear every dollar that went into it.
Imogen Heap - Speak For Yourself
There's an irresistable charm to female-led electronica, particluarly the type that finds itself flitting in the vein of Bjork and Sarah McLaughlin. Its strange, completley baseless, and totally not the average alternative album you throw on when you want to express youself. But there's no denying that the effort is there. Heap actually mortgaged her London flat to finance the making of this record, and the go-for-broke attitude is evident. This record is produced within an inch of its life, sounds on top of sounds topped off with a gauzy candy-coated sheen that's, at times, too much to bear. Ornate baubles like "Clear the Area" and "The Walk" threaten to collapse under the weight of all their finery. Most of the tracks are a sticky-sweet conglomeration of piano and other sparking sounds-- synth air rushing in, Dopplered voices fading away. Sometimes these sounds are abetted by fuck-off guitars (like "Daylight Robbery") or big-beat drum machines (like "I Am In Love With You"). Invariably, most of the tracks find an ideal safe spot between the unrepentant Nelly Furtado-esque chirping of "Goodnight and Go" and the dreary yearning of "Just For Now".
And then there's Heap's voice, an ephemeral elastic thing that more often than not disappears into the music. It's hard to believe that someone executing these vocal gymnastics can also evaporate so easily. Sometimes, she gets lost within her own songs; sometimes, she gets lost within her own round-robin multi-tracking trickery. The pouting on "Daylight Robbery" is as loud as she gets, and even that's soft as silk. More often than not, the listener is caressed with whispers and sighs and innocuous vowels-as-words attached to lyrics that are often as airy as her vocals. Having said that, there's no reason why this album can't be the subject of a torrid aural love affair. Her ostentatiousness is endearing, if you can swallow both the musical and vocal flourishes. And when Heap's personality shines through all the trappings and inadvertent emulations (somewhere before the chorus in "Goodbye and Go", for example), it's a welcome breath of fresh air. And it's not like the songs are bad. They're just too much, and pity the fool with no patience for pretty frou frou stuff listening to any of this. The black sheep of the bunch, "Hide and Seek", best exemplifies the strengths and weaknesses of this album. The track consists of nothing but a Vocoder and her voice singing stuff about crop circles and sewing machines. It's gorgeous, it's impressive, it's grandiose, and it's barely there at all-- just Heap's voice darting and divebombing, making itself scarce, disappearing into itself.
There's an irresistable charm to female-led electronica, particluarly the type that finds itself flitting in the vein of Bjork and Sarah McLaughlin. Its strange, completley baseless, and totally not the average alternative album you throw on when you want to express youself. But there's no denying that the effort is there. Heap actually mortgaged her London flat to finance the making of this record, and the go-for-broke attitude is evident. This record is produced within an inch of its life, sounds on top of sounds topped off with a gauzy candy-coated sheen that's, at times, too much to bear. Ornate baubles like "Clear the Area" and "The Walk" threaten to collapse under the weight of all their finery. Most of the tracks are a sticky-sweet conglomeration of piano and other sparking sounds-- synth air rushing in, Dopplered voices fading away. Sometimes these sounds are abetted by fuck-off guitars (like "Daylight Robbery") or big-beat drum machines (like "I Am In Love With You"). Invariably, most of the tracks find an ideal safe spot between the unrepentant Nelly Furtado-esque chirping of "Goodnight and Go" and the dreary yearning of "Just For Now".
And then there's Heap's voice, an ephemeral elastic thing that more often than not disappears into the music. It's hard to believe that someone executing these vocal gymnastics can also evaporate so easily. Sometimes, she gets lost within her own songs; sometimes, she gets lost within her own round-robin multi-tracking trickery. The pouting on "Daylight Robbery" is as loud as she gets, and even that's soft as silk. More often than not, the listener is caressed with whispers and sighs and innocuous vowels-as-words attached to lyrics that are often as airy as her vocals. Having said that, there's no reason why this album can't be the subject of a torrid aural love affair. Her ostentatiousness is endearing, if you can swallow both the musical and vocal flourishes. And when Heap's personality shines through all the trappings and inadvertent emulations (somewhere before the chorus in "Goodbye and Go", for example), it's a welcome breath of fresh air. And it's not like the songs are bad. They're just too much, and pity the fool with no patience for pretty frou frou stuff listening to any of this. The black sheep of the bunch, "Hide and Seek", best exemplifies the strengths and weaknesses of this album. The track consists of nothing but a Vocoder and her voice singing stuff about crop circles and sewing machines. It's gorgeous, it's impressive, it's grandiose, and it's barely there at all-- just Heap's voice darting and divebombing, making itself scarce, disappearing into itself.
Music: Radiohead - There There - Hail to the Thief
Mood: Chilling
The past week has gone by so incredibly fast. Between work and dinners out with all sorts of random people, its been an exceptional blast. I've barely had time to register everything, which is why I am taking this time to write a quick blurb here.
We're meeting up with 'Yoga Sue' this evening and her husband (either Steve or Frank, and I hope its Steve) for dinner at some random locale. Thats one of the best things about this city. There are so many excellent places to go out to eat, that you don't have to repeat a location for a long time.
I have to get my lunch on soon, and also stretch out my aching back; I believe I slept on it in a considerably poor fashion.
Happy Holidays.
P&L
D
Mood: Chilling
The past week has gone by so incredibly fast. Between work and dinners out with all sorts of random people, its been an exceptional blast. I've barely had time to register everything, which is why I am taking this time to write a quick blurb here.
We're meeting up with 'Yoga Sue' this evening and her husband (either Steve or Frank, and I hope its Steve) for dinner at some random locale. Thats one of the best things about this city. There are so many excellent places to go out to eat, that you don't have to repeat a location for a long time.
I have to get my lunch on soon, and also stretch out my aching back; I believe I slept on it in a considerably poor fashion.
Happy Holidays.
P&L
D
Music: The Strokes - Killing Lies - First Impressions of Earth
Mood: Alive
So i'm in London. Last night, my cousins et moi met up with a few of their friends for dinner and some chillin' at this rather chic restaurant in the city. I had a great time, and it was nice to walk the streets, even though its biting cold.
Today I am going to get a pay-as-you-go sim card for my phone, and a subway card so I can have constant access to the innerworkings of the metro whilst I stay here. I think my parents are arriving tonight for four days, which should be cool times.
Else, all is well. I've been listening non-stop to three albums: One By One, Make Yourself, and Hail to the Thief. They've helped to make the trip exciting thus far.
Chelsea plays Arsenal this evening, which is going to be an awesome match. A few of my cousins friends are going to check out the game in person, but I don't mind watching it on the tele. Sky Sports is good times.
I think I'm going to meet Lance this evening. Lance, for those unaware, is a good friend of my cousins, and someone I met a few years ago while attending my cousins wedding in Pune. He was quite random, but all in all a good guy. Should be fun.
First day of work tomorrow. Need to iron my suit. I'm off to do some more nonsense. Vacation rocks.
Peace & Love.
D
Mood: Alive
So i'm in London. Last night, my cousins et moi met up with a few of their friends for dinner and some chillin' at this rather chic restaurant in the city. I had a great time, and it was nice to walk the streets, even though its biting cold.
Today I am going to get a pay-as-you-go sim card for my phone, and a subway card so I can have constant access to the innerworkings of the metro whilst I stay here. I think my parents are arriving tonight for four days, which should be cool times.
Else, all is well. I've been listening non-stop to three albums: One By One, Make Yourself, and Hail to the Thief. They've helped to make the trip exciting thus far.
Chelsea plays Arsenal this evening, which is going to be an awesome match. A few of my cousins friends are going to check out the game in person, but I don't mind watching it on the tele. Sky Sports is good times.
I think I'm going to meet Lance this evening. Lance, for those unaware, is a good friend of my cousins, and someone I met a few years ago while attending my cousins wedding in Pune. He was quite random, but all in all a good guy. Should be fun.
First day of work tomorrow. Need to iron my suit. I'm off to do some more nonsense. Vacation rocks.
Peace & Love.
D
I Met Tom Morello Today...
0 Comments Published by Devin on Thursday, December 15, 2005 at 12:04 AM.
Music: The Killers - All These Things That I've Done - Hot Fuss
Mood: Excited
Yeah so, the title kind of explains it. I was at the Grove with my parents this evening doing some x-mas shopping for assorted individuals, when we randomly ambled into the Apple store to check out some gizmos, and there to my right was Tommy M, chillin' on his cell phone, probably talking to his wife. I noticed him instantly, but I was kind of hesitant to just walk up to him and say "HI TOM!!!" because
A.) thats not polite
B.) there were literally 13 employees in red shirts standing right next to him
C.) i'm a coward
So I waited for him to hang up the phone and then I made my way towards him, and very casually introduced myself. (I called him Mr. Morello).
I was shocked at how humble and sincere he was. We talked for about 5 minutes about all sorts of things, music, brief bits of politics, activism, Cuba, Fidel Castro, and of course, guitar rock. It was inspiring to realize that one of my 'idols' in a sense is so down to earth. In the end, I got an autograph, but the conversation was priceless. A really amazing experience. My dad was totally confused as to who he was, but I think my mom got the point when I walked out of the store beaming.
I leave in under 24 hours for frigid London, where I will spend 3 weeks exploring the art of indentured servitude.
Happy Holidays to Everyone~!
Mood: Excited
Yeah so, the title kind of explains it. I was at the Grove with my parents this evening doing some x-mas shopping for assorted individuals, when we randomly ambled into the Apple store to check out some gizmos, and there to my right was Tommy M, chillin' on his cell phone, probably talking to his wife. I noticed him instantly, but I was kind of hesitant to just walk up to him and say "HI TOM!!!" because
A.) thats not polite
B.) there were literally 13 employees in red shirts standing right next to him
C.) i'm a coward
So I waited for him to hang up the phone and then I made my way towards him, and very casually introduced myself. (I called him Mr. Morello).
I was shocked at how humble and sincere he was. We talked for about 5 minutes about all sorts of things, music, brief bits of politics, activism, Cuba, Fidel Castro, and of course, guitar rock. It was inspiring to realize that one of my 'idols' in a sense is so down to earth. In the end, I got an autograph, but the conversation was priceless. A really amazing experience. My dad was totally confused as to who he was, but I think my mom got the point when I walked out of the store beaming.
I leave in under 24 hours for frigid London, where I will spend 3 weeks exploring the art of indentured servitude.
Happy Holidays to Everyone~!
Music: The Postal Service - This Place Is A Prison - Give Up
Mood: Exhausted
Wow. So many things have occured in the span of today my lads. For one, I am done with another semester of academic 'integrity'. Yes, I finished my second-to-last semester of undergraduate studies this afternoon with my final, and then, promptly, went to the Wiltern in Hollywood with my broski for a 311 concert.
More on those things later, I need rest.
P.S. - I leave for London on Thursday, so the blogging will probably slow down towards the end of the year, F.Y.I.
P.P.S - Listen to The Postal Service this month. It will serve you well in the cold weather.
P.P.P.S - I realized that listening to The Mars Volta reminds me of a time in my life when I was depressed, things were shitty, and life in general was not all that spiffy, ergo, the decision to delete the bulk of their tracks from my iPod.
Nite.
Mood: Exhausted
Wow. So many things have occured in the span of today my lads. For one, I am done with another semester of academic 'integrity'. Yes, I finished my second-to-last semester of undergraduate studies this afternoon with my final, and then, promptly, went to the Wiltern in Hollywood with my broski for a 311 concert.
More on those things later, I need rest.
P.S. - I leave for London on Thursday, so the blogging will probably slow down towards the end of the year, F.Y.I.
P.P.S - Listen to The Postal Service this month. It will serve you well in the cold weather.
P.P.P.S - I realized that listening to The Mars Volta reminds me of a time in my life when I was depressed, things were shitty, and life in general was not all that spiffy, ergo, the decision to delete the bulk of their tracks from my iPod.
Nite.
Music: Incubus - Sick Sad Little World - A Crow Left of the Murder
Mood: Tired
I have this shadow that looks over my shoulders. There is an intangible sort of anxiety that revisits me in my most vulnerable of hours. There are moments when the world moves too fast and I am dizzied by its pace of changing seasons like flashing of photographs. But suddenly I am confronted by its antithesis, when everything loses its direction and I am grounded by a sea of stagnation. Today, my past is running behind me and I can see it gaining on my reality. I can’t decide if it is my enemy or the source of my strength; and it’s been so long since I began to solve this puzzle, I am afraid that it could be both.
Sometimes, the most beautiful and profound messages are carried by the silent midnight air. And there are times when the most precise and crafted explanation strikes no chord within my heart.
Mood: Tired
I have this shadow that looks over my shoulders. There is an intangible sort of anxiety that revisits me in my most vulnerable of hours. There are moments when the world moves too fast and I am dizzied by its pace of changing seasons like flashing of photographs. But suddenly I am confronted by its antithesis, when everything loses its direction and I am grounded by a sea of stagnation. Today, my past is running behind me and I can see it gaining on my reality. I can’t decide if it is my enemy or the source of my strength; and it’s been so long since I began to solve this puzzle, I am afraid that it could be both.
Sometimes, the most beautiful and profound messages are carried by the silent midnight air. And there are times when the most precise and crafted explanation strikes no chord within my heart.
Tuned, Plugged In, Ready to Lay It Down
0 Comments Published by Devin on Thursday, December 08, 2005 at 3:43 PM.
Music: Foo Fighters - Aurora (acoustic) - B-Sides
Mood: Gray
Try holding on to the ocean with your hands. You can't have it all, it has an un-tamable nature. You can't carry it away in a decadent vase, it loses its wild and impromptu spirit. Sit down by the water's edge and hold out your hands; let the water come to you. Let the sea rest between your hands, observe it. Admire it. But tighten your grip and you'll lose it all. Its will is unbounded and such is the essence of its beauty. Yet if you pay no attention, a second of carelessness and your darling will slip through your hands, back to the teary waters. Then all you are left with is that enticing aroma between your fingertips.
Mood: Gray
Try holding on to the ocean with your hands. You can't have it all, it has an un-tamable nature. You can't carry it away in a decadent vase, it loses its wild and impromptu spirit. Sit down by the water's edge and hold out your hands; let the water come to you. Let the sea rest between your hands, observe it. Admire it. But tighten your grip and you'll lose it all. Its will is unbounded and such is the essence of its beauty. Yet if you pay no attention, a second of carelessness and your darling will slip through your hands, back to the teary waters. Then all you are left with is that enticing aroma between your fingertips.
