Posts in category "Random"

Pendulum — The Island

I’ve always main­tained that a per­son isn’t alive if their heart does­n’t pound out of their chest when lis­ten­ing to The Island by Pendulum1.

It’s a grad­ual build-up, most of Pt. 1 Dawn being the devel­op­ment until Pt. 2 Dusk hits (at about the 5:20 mark in the video) and the beats real­ly kick in. Then it’s just waves and waves wash­ing over my body like small orgasms and every hair stands on end.

It’s mes­mer­iz­ing to lit­er­al­ly see how this music makes me feel, as the rip­ples of goose­bumps crest and sub­side. I can trace the paths of shiv­ers across my skin; some last longer, though they may not be as strong, while oth­ers come and go quick­ly, my body unable to sus­tain the cli­max.

This is the only song that has this kind of effect on me. There are plen­ty of oth­er tracks that give me goose­bumps, but none of them do it so many times or with such inten­si­ty. By far the strongest peak is dur­ing the bridge at 7:10, when every­thing sub­sides to the organ, and it’s like you’re being bathed in the warm light of a sun­rise.

  1. To get the full effect, you def­i­nite­ly need head­phones. Otherwise, it should be loud enough to war­rant a noise-com­plaint by your neigh­bours down the street. [↩]

i know i found the recipe for me

All I do nowa­days is dance. Not in any coor­di­nat­ed man­ner, mind you, and cer­tain­ly not in the pres­ence of any­one else.

I’m only now start­ing to real­ize how nec­es­sary it was for me to sur­vive that cru­cible last year, and how impor­tant it was for me to save myself. It has­n’t tem­pered the extremes, but they don’t last as long any­more.

Blue Mountain village at night

 

It’s com­fort­ing to know I’ve been through this before. It was­n’t all for noth­ing. I’m a lit­tle wis­er now, and I’m not going to make the same mis­takes again.

This win­ter hit us heavy once more, and like it I refuse to die.

nowhere near as morbid as it sounds

All I want to do late­ly is go out and shoot and edit and post, but I have no sto­ries to tell. I’m still try­ing to write them, so I can put them in these cuts and look back and live for­ev­er in the mem­o­ries. To dance among the motion and glim­mer, and blink against the bright­ness of the sun.

I’ve been filled with such tremen­dous inten­si­ty, and hope, and excite­ment, buoyed by the fact that I’ll always have a gui­tar and a dis­arm­ing smile.

burlesque cake

 

Peace has been made with this new-self. It’s as if every change, every cycle I go through, takes time for me to get used to the new skin. I know I’ll always be flawed. I’ll always make mis­takes, but that means I’ll always be learn­ing.

I’ve had enough of crazy devel­op­ments. I’ll be hap­py once the dust set­tles and I’m back to my reg­u­lar life again, some point beyond the sum­mer. The spring is nev­er remark­able; it’s just a haze between the heat and the snow. It already smells like hot sum­mers nights, a com­fort­ing mix of pollen and con­crete. It’s gonna be oh so good.

old habit

  • Rob: Sometimes it still hurts. You know how it is, man. It’s like, you wake up every day and it hurts a lit­tle bit less, and then you wake up one day and it does­n’t hurt at all. And the fun­ny thing is, is that, this is kin­da wierd, but it’s like, it’s like you almost miss that pain.
  • Mike: You miss the pain?
  • Rob: Yeah, for the same rea­son that you missed her… because you lived with it for so long.

—Swingers

I’m in my last days of high-school again. Pretty much this. Feeling like I have the rest of my life ahead of me with so much to look for­ward to, but only cause I’m try­ing to shed every­thing that hap­pened in the final dis­as­trous year.

I remem­ber writ­ing a lot back then in this black note­book. It was filled with all these ver­bal scrib­bles, short pas­sages of text, words, lyrics, emo­tions I could­n’t con­tain. My thoughts were a jum­ble, lost some­where between the pain and the love of how it made me feel alive.

That’s how I feel now. Old habits break hard.

About once every two years I uncer­e­mo­ni­ous­ly threw it out and bought a new one, because I hat­ed every­thing in it. I nev­er want­ed to think of myself as the per­son who wrote all the things in there. Sometimes I won­der if I’ll look back on these entries one day and think the same.

every red fucking light

it’s far too late to be doing this, but I know I’ll lose it if I don’t get it down right away.

cause the music. my god. you nev­er tru­ly feel it until this hap­pens. like it’s writ­ten for this moment, when the song isn’t over so you have to dance in the car for 0:34 cause you’re home already.

i was­n’t going to men­tion any­thing until there was some­thing worth men­tion­ing. then i excit­ed­ly spilled my guts to trol­ley over the grilled atlantic salmon.

things fell apart short­ly there­after.

i keep think­ing of how i would­n’t have changed a thing if i had to do it all over again, how any­thing done dif­fer­ent­ly would­n’t have made a dif­fer­ence any­way, but that’s nev­er much com­fort is it. these are also the nights i queue up only three songs to make sure I get out of the show­er in a time­ly man­ner.

aaron knew some­thing was wrong when i broke into a sweat and took off my coat. i lied cause it was his day and not mine, but all i want­ed to do was go home and drown myself in iso­la­tion and play until my fin­gers bled1.

i’ll always be caught in this flux. there is no arrival for me. the oscil­la­tion has always been the des­ti­na­tion, but the waves get a lit­tle calmer each time.

  1. he knows how bad i am at hid­ing things like this, how it always eats me up, and i feel ter­ri­ble cause i know how he always wants to take me away from that. [↩]