A few portraits of Meghan. Her big eyes and waif-like figure give her something of an innocent look, while the dress and labret balances this out with a bit of an edge. Very appealing, in my books. Makes you wonder which part is more true of her.
The winter storm watch continued at ‑14°C today. When you’re inside, the sun fools you with the warmth of its colour, until you step outside and feel the bite of the wind.
I spent an hour-and-a-half looking for various things and running errands downtown. The streets were packed, the stores were packed, and I found nothing.
So I spent a stupid amount of money on these awesome mittens at Club Monaco. I actually walked out of the store and out of the mall when I found them, for fear that I would purchase them, but alas, here they are on my hands. I had to decide between the white and black stripes, the grey and black stripes, and the flat grey ones, but since most of my clothing is neutral, I decided on the flashiest pair. The open hole for the fingers makes iPod and camera manipulation easy. They’re 100% cashmere; thin enough to wear indoors or inside your coat pocket.
So it wasn’t a total waste of a day.
Turning over and over in the sky, length after length of whiteness unwound over the earth and shrouded it. The blizzard was alone in the world; it had no rival.
When he climbed down from the window sill Yura’s first impulse was to dress, run outside, and start doing something.
—Doctor Zhivago
When one looks outside their window and sees this, this blanket of purity, what else can one feel but serenity, contentment, and hope?
A few days before the show, I found out that Krista and Shane were playing a small venue in town. Usually I make it a point to see an artist just once in my life, but last time was different; I was expecting Lederhosen Lucil, but was treated to an entirely different and unfamiliar sound. This time, it was my chance to see Krista and Shane perform after becoming familiar with the songs. Turns out the venue was in un petit salon des arts. This place boasted a mixture of different artforms; music, metal sculptures, photographs, paintings, and graphic poems.
I didn’t really feel like going out that night, but I forced myself to go, reminding myself that I could say the same thing any other night and I’d never get anywhere.
When I arrived, the Salon was to capacity. I couldn’t even get in the entrance; there were people physically blocking the door. My chance to get in came after a few had made room by leaving, then I saw a path up the stairs and took it.
Enter six degrees of separation.
Eric, who used to work with me, introduced me to Brant Bjork, and stoner rock in general, about two years ago. It’s a genre that explores delightful repetition, where variations are subtle, but powerfully psychedelic.
[I]t is certainly accepted that the effects of marijuana and the often low or psychedelic riffs of stoner rock complement each other.
—Wikipedia, Stoner rock
I liken the idea to Plastikman’s debut album, Sheet One. Though of a different genre — trance — it features a perforated album cover, an homage to acid tab art, for which the LSD enhances the details of every single minimalistic beat (so I’m told).
While I’ve enjoyed Queens of the Stone Age, who are considered to be influenced by the stoner rock movement (indeed, Josh Homme and Brant Bjork formed pioneering band Kyuss while in high school), the sound is a little more commercial, less droning.
After I heard a few songs by Brant Bjork, I was hooked. I never associated it with a memory, which is what I do with almost all my songs, but it was good enough that I didn’t have to.
At Thanksgiving, during one of my trips through the mall with Andrew and Alex, I resumed my search for Brant Bjork’s solo album by the name of Jalamanta. It was a bigger city, a bigger place…maybe I’d have a better luck. Unfortunately, every music store gave me the same answer; it was an album they didn’t keep regularly in stock.
Alex asked me what I was looking for, the name of the album and artist, and I didn’t think anything of it.
Yesterday, I found a package in the mail. Fragile — CD, it said. Inside was the Brant Bjork CD I’ve been looking for, which they found at an independent music store. Along with the CD was a card made from my Pollen Junkie photo (which was taken in their garden), with a message written on the back.
And as great as it is to finally hear the songs I’ve been missing, as nice as it is to have an original release, it’s nothing compared to the thoughtfulness, the effort they made to find me exactly what I was looking for.
Update: Julie bought me a lucky bamboo plant, along with a vase filled with decorative rocks and a cute hand-drawn card. Very, very nice! Definitely an effort spent acquiring all these things, and much appreciated.