David Byrne on media

“Some are better for saying a particular thing than others. I think it’s also part of that punk do-it-yourself
attitude, of being like: ‘Well, I don’t care that I’m not an expert in
this. I know my limitations, but I think I can express what I want to
express within those limitations.’ You know — like I may only know
three chords, but that’s all I need.”

Will Hermes, New York Times, "Indie Rock's Patron Saint Inspires a New Flock"

Magnetic and True

Magnetic and True
George Kelly

Do I believe in elements, what their presence drives, or put my trust in everything on which artifice thrives or maybe split the difference, see both where my eyes fall upon the world I find you in, where you can hear my call? There's two kinds of north that I know exist, but I never knew for certain until we kissed. Sure as my feet travel straight and not slew, one north's magnetic and the other is true. One north's magnetic and the other is true.

Science says the magnetic kind, it is found and freed by lines of force from the iron ore that spins beneath our feet.
Geography requires the true kind to hinge on accord of straight-line mappers, boundary keepers, travelers and that sort. There's two kinds of north that I know exist, but I never knew for
certain until we kissed. Sure as my feet travel straight and not slew,
one north's magnetic and the other is true. One north's magnetic and
the other is true.

(You know I don't usually rhyme, but one thing inspires to do it this time: the feelings I'm feelin' when we're together, winter through the autumn, whatever the weather. I know that you feel the same about me and you know that my plan's to be about we and I keep it on lock so that we can be free and you hold it down till it's me that you see. I'm the needle on the compass and I used to spin. You used to listen to me talk, I made you laugh and grin, but now I'm navigating straight to you through thick and thin just like a star and I'm'a ride until I see you again. You got me catching the vapors and seeing inner visions, firming up my plans, positioning for decisions, blocking out days on my calendar. That's my mission till it's time to set it off like we was nuclear fission.)

(written while watching Mia and Jonah on Dec. 16th at Prism Cafe;
demoed at home on New Year's Eve with help from Gori Do, GarageBand, an M-Audio
Keystation 61es and a Logitech USB headset)

Effort and Success (Iron and Steel and Tin)

Effort, call effort the discriminator. Call success, success the delineator. How much work before you're tirin', how much tin and steel and iron? You wanted it easy so you decided on iron first, and you bellied right up to the bar to slake your thirst. You didn't like the way I looked at you and then my drink, so you shot me dead and you wound up in the clink. Effort, call effort the discriminator. Call success, success the delineator. How much work for to seal the deal, how much iron and tin and steel? You found it a little hard when steel came next, a new kind of bar behind your original pretext. You didn't like the nuisance of penitentiary life, so no one cried when your ribs caught a knife. Effort, call effort the discriminator. Call success, success the delineator. How much work do you want to put in, how much iron and steel and tin? You looked around when you felt the thin tin blade, and your eyelids shuttered like a curtain shade. You didn't like the prospect of seeing your own blood, so you pitched over neatly into penitentiary mud (and I watched you pitch over into penitentiary mud). Effort, call effort the discriminator. Call success, success the delineator. How much iron, steel, tin and such, oh how much, how much, how much?

(written while watching Mia and Jonah on Dec. 16th at Prism Cafe; demoed on New Year's Eve with help from Gori Do, GarageBand, an M-Audio Keystation 61es, a Logitech USB headset and a fortuitous passing police-car siren)

Where I slowly stir the water and every day’s the same


Hmm, hmm, hmm. I'm a fish in an aquarium,
cut off from the outside world. The water's always lukewarm and I
observe. Hardly anyone takes notice of me, but I am here, quietly
floating, my lips moving just like yours. Always in motion, you never
seem to rest. Through my reflection I watch you. Why do you keep me
here like this?
I'm a fish in an aquarium, cut off from the outside world. The water's always lukewarm and I observe. No
storms in these waters so quiet, they're turning stale. Sometimes the
tension keeps me hanging on each day, each day. Will you starve me or
feed me? I never really know. This love, my mountain, my detention, I'm
dying slow.
I'm a fish in an
aquarium, cut off from the outside world. The water's always lukewarm
and I observe. I just want to fall, fall. I'm a fish in an aquarium and
so I will remain where I slowly stir the water and every day's the
same, the same, the same, the same, the same, the same, the same.


I looked at my reflection in the water, thought "what an unlikely pair,"
closed my eyes, held my breath, plummeted down, down, down
and anchored myself there. Can't tell how long I've been in the company of gills and tails. I think I feel my skin growing scales. Can I come up for air, can I come up, can I come up? I'm gettin eaten up down here. I'm just not built like them. The big fish have a monopoly; the little fish get buried in the sand. This-here world I'm in sucks your life out, leaves you comatose. Take back your salt and fins. Send me a lifeboat. Can I come up for air, can I come up, can I come up? I look up in longing at the surface, hypnotized by the way the sunlight seems to ride each ripple and they do a dance. Every ray becomes a beckoning hand. I miss the sweet taste of oxygen. I mistook this for the promised land. Can I come up for air, can I come up, can I come up?

Half birthdays and haircuts

Day after Christmas, Monterey hotel roomLeaving work Friday for the barber'sThe shorn identity, pt. 1Sunday afternoon, Prism Cafe

I'm

  • on the stillpoint between 35 and 36 today.
  • not missing it half as much as I thought I might. I told Bernie today that as soon as the barber got done running heavy-duty clippers over my scalp and turned me 'round to face the mirror, I said to myself "hello, I know you; it's been a while, but you're still familiar after all." I guess I am not my hair, after all. 😉
  • digesting lunch, aka chicken-topped cornbread-crust cheese pizza with a side salad, Poppy Jasper amber and Pilsner Urquell.
  • glad to have run into Tarita Thomas from BlogHer just now.
  • halfway through the year's first read, Chris Cleave's "Incendiary."
  • on pins and needles about my 7:30-to-9:30 p.m. gigs at Prism Cafe on Thurs., Jan. 11 (with an art opening) and Jan. 25 with my friends Delia and Peter.
  • also chuffed about my other gigs opening around 8:30 p.m.-ish for Samantha Chanse (yeah, her) on Mon., Jan. 22 and playing solo (hopefully with other friends opening for me hopefully) about 8:30 p.m.-ish on Mon., March 20 at Ireland's 32.
  • grateful for my true-blue friends who beat back illness and other issues to listen to me Jan. 2 at Ireland's 32.
  • having fun with GarageBand demos since taking the last week of '06 off work.
  • just about done with last year's favorite songs, albums and movies, so those'll go up in a bit.
  • thinking I should set up a doctor's appointment this month for the first time in ages.

Kwanzaa ’06: Imani

Faith. You can rattle off any definition you like: the evidence of things not seen; one of the three great things (along with hope and love); a George Michael album, if you like.

Torichan attended a couple of celebrations, Eros Comes In Black Satin did it up proud. Nyasha Nicole had a nice tiny capture from a celebration she attended a few days prior.

And YBPGuide said this:

I hope 2007 brings you good health, good fortune, motivation to strive for bigger goals, and progression.
Look ahead to the future, don't dwell on the past. Have faith, and you
will get through this year stronger and more prosperous than ever.

Couldn't agree more.