Sometimes, I have to get out, even when it feels like it’s 40°C outside, because I need my music loud, and I need to fucking strut, and the birds clear the way cause they know it’s serious, cause the pictures are fucking killing me, so I’ll just keep skipping songs until it hits me then I’ll CRANK IT until it hurts, walking it off like it’s nobody’s business, dancing inside to the bass pounding in my ears.
Posts tagged with "music"
Good Times For A Change
Before you start reading, play this song. It’s a Deftones cover of The Smiths’ song Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want. There have been a few other artists who have done covers too, including Muse, but only Chino has the kind of raw emotion in his voice that matches Morrisey.
This song was written for right now.
I’ve moved mainly to video. Getting a little tired of the still photograph medium. I had my first commission this weekend at the NAC, recording a jazz trio concert in exchange for a few tickets for my friends.
If you couldn’t tell, I’ve been obsessed with colour tones and vignetting lately. Making my photos look like old memories. Maybe this is a way for me to go back; reverting to past experiences, drawing inward as an introvert, regressing to a different time, when all I had was innocence but that was enough.
I’ve been strangely serene. Sleeping well. When things get complicated I’ve been less stoic, and more light-hearted.
Maybe it’s the house being clean. Maybe I’m satisfied with the the new decorations. Maybe it was the last weekend, getting caught up on errands and tasks, finally feeling like my head is above water.
Maybe it’s the weather. The rain. The wind. The warmth of the sun. The temperature drop. The way I can leave my window open at night.
Maybe it’s feeling socially fulfilled. Seeing friends, laughing hard, trips out of town, trips on my own.
Maybe it’s the nights spent holding her, caressing every inch of her skin. Maybe it’s the way she held me too.
Maybe it’s the acceptance. A way I’ve let go where I’ve found myself finally free, and living. Something I always think I’ve been able to do, only to realize a day later that I didn’t before, but I have now, honestly.
Maybe it’s all the movies I’ve been watching in the time between, seeing myself in every character, every situation. Going back to high school, being back at university.
I’m not sure what it is, but I know this feeling won’t last forever. It never has. It’s the flux between storm and serenity that moves me.
Been writing this entry over the last week.
In a couple days, this blog turns six.
Maybe I just had a few good weeks.
A Cold And Grey Summer Day
My room is a mess, a side-effect of my busy schedule. I should be cleaning. Hell, I should be sleeping, but I’d rather write instead, seeing as how I haven’t had a chance in four days. It would appear as if I’m going through some sort of expression withdrawal.
Vincent Gallo practically wrote this entry for me.
I had When by Vincent Gallo playing here.
(If you’re going to listen to this song, turn the lights down, or at least close your eyes. Remove yourself of any ambient noise. Breathe slowly for 30 seconds before playing it. This song deserves it. You deserve it.)
Even though it went up to 28°C today, the morning started cold and calm. There was so much moisture in the air that one could taste the grey.
It made me strangely stoic when I left the house. Something about the whether that reminded me of how comforting it can be to feel sad. It’s as if the earth had decided to compliment my mood with cloud cover. I can’t even explain the cause of my sadness, and can only guess that realization and acceptance are setting in. The only saving grace is that I feel confident enough to pick myself up and move on. Not that I want to do it alone right now. Wish I had the option.
As the day dragged on, things started to wear me down. Exhaustion dried my eyes. I kept trying to pick myself up, kept trying to hide my sighing sadness from those around me, to no avail.
Wish I had a smile in my wardrobe for days like this.
Road Trip
Two in one day…you know it’s serious.
I’m driving out to see Darren for the weekend. He’s five hours away, and it’ll be my first trip out of the city in the car. My car.
There’s a certain satisfaction to filling my trunk with odds and ends — tripod, sandals, snacks — that I couldn’t have carried on a Greyhound bus. Got my GPS and a full tank of gas.
I had Summer Sun by Ellen ten Damme playing here.
I can’t wait to drive with the windows down while the sun is setting along the horizon, Summer Sun playing on the stereo. To be going somewhere by myself.
Free.
Killed my top rated playlist at work. Even have all the songs burned to several CDs for the trip. My head is filled with lyrics. I may also begin my audiobook of Carson McCullers’s The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter.
I’m going through some hyperactive euphoria again, this contradictory feeling of the scary and exciting unknown. The best part about hanging out with Darren is that each of us understands exactly how the other feels, even though we may not understand it in ourselves. Something which is especially important right now, even though I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay.
I just need to get away for a while.
Developments and Denouements
Lights down, sound up, for this one. Maybe some tea and a pastry if it’s not too late.
I had Maps by Yeah Yeah Yeahs playing here.
Stripped down, the beat alternates between triplet-three-one-two-three-one-two and one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two, fooling the listener into thinking it’s in some sort of complex time-signature. It’s actually based in common time, but with the triplets in there and the down-beat (marked by the open snare) falling on four and then three of the next bar, the song takes on a syncopated rhythm. This isn’t what makes the song good, though. It’s all Karen O and her voice.
I’ve been so moody lately. Up and down. Developments and denouements. Most likely a result of my overthinking and overplanning over everything. Still trying to take things one day at a time, without rushing head first, without falling head over heels.
I’ve begun seeing my psychologist on a session-by-session basis (instead of on a schedule — an indication of progress). In between, my Tai Chi classes have become my therapy. There’s something about class that centres me; the camaraderie, the movements, the breathing, the contact, the feeling that I’m improving a part of myself, bit by bit, even if it’s subconsciously. A time where I can totally focus, a place where I can forget everything else.
Afterwards, it’s a drive home in the dark with the windows down, and the rustling of wind in my hair.
The serenity carries forward. I’m recharged again. Then I’m strong enough to be myself. I’m strong enough to accept these feelings.
They don’t love you like I love you.








