quote:

'the urge to destroy is a creative urge.'

- don delillo

a similar sentiment was shared in simone de beauvoir's "all men are mortal." 

just something to think about...

a quote:

"maybe it's not necessary to pray to anyone. the early desert mothers said that god is without form, color, or content. perhaps prayer isn't a matter of praying to anyone. perhaps it's an active way of giving up. maybe that's precisely what you need: to give up, without going under. the words could be anything whatsoever, as long as they speak to the heart. for example, they could be bach's cantatas."

- the abbess, peter hoeg's "the quiet girl"

...and now it's february...

i know it's beyond cliche to say time has been cruising at least at mach 4, maybe 5 - but it has. 

there've been very few material changes in my life since my last post, but it feels like it's settled into a distinct groove. distinctly different than where i was six or even three months ago. but more about that later. maybe.

let's talk tunes first. a whole lotta amazing shit happening out there in musicland - even in my itsy bitsy locale situated in the backwoods of the hinterlands in musicland!

right now i have alva noto's xerrox vol. 2 subtly warping my aural parameters though my grado's. wow. over the last several months, i've been exploring the 'modern classical' genre. this album by noto's been blowing my mind, as well as jacaszek's treny, coh's strings, ezekiel honig's surfaces of a broken marching band, fennesz's black sea and several others. very, very cool shit. 

what is this 'modern classical' characterization, you ask? well, dearest friend, i'm super glad you asked. ha! well, it appears this designation is reserved for music composed for both string-based classical instruments and some type of electronic music - ambient noise, field recordings, experimental electronica, and/or analog feedback. the textures, atmosphere and the layers allow for a complexly immersive experience or mind-bogglingly engaging background music to a good read. yes, music to make me smile.

okay, so that's a recommendation. check some of those artists out.

just so you know, i'm running on about two cylinders from some pretty mediocre smoke. my normal options aren't available to me, so i'm slumming it smoking some no-name shit. not quite regs, but really fucking close. ah, well - such are the vagaries of life...

rather than boo-hoo all over my clean, white t-shirt, i'm going to ramble about this mind-fuckery of a show i saw last week.

give me a second. gonna need a hit for this...

so, i went to the ontological-hysteric theater at st. mark's church in the east village. i love this venue. really. they're one of the few spaces in manhattan for truly experimental, almost psychedelic theater and music. the production i saw that night, 'astronome: a night at the opera' is described as a 'richard foreman/john zorn music/theater collaboration.' yeah. if you've got even the faintest idea who either of these artists are, then you have the merest hint of the...god, i was about to use the word 'experience' - but it's so over-used. ha! yes, experience that severed yet another thread connecting me to mainstream america and what's passing for sanity these days. 

what. a. mind. fuck.

but, you know, in a good way...

wow. that was a pretty big hit. sorry for the tease, but it seems i've lost the ability to 

connect

my 

thoughts.

part deux in the near future...

2008

so, another year gone with nary a yelp.

perhaps i'm just in a weird headspace, but, with my advanced years, it feels as though time is accelerating while my productive output is decreasing.

'course, we could talk at length about my productive output and whether or not that's a misnomer for my periodic and circuitous meanderings.

what up, y'all?

really, what's been going on with you?
...
uh huh?
.......
that's kinda cool, but didn't it hurt?
...
ha! you're pulling my leg!
.....
oh. sorry. it just sounded like a bizarre plot from some crazed tv show.
.........
yeah, that's why i apologized.
....
what the fuck?! i said i was sorry!
......
whatever, man.
...
dude, that's fucked up. i'm outta here.
..
fuck you.

'take your pleasure seriously.'

- charles eames

'the more you live a certain way, the less it feels like freedom.'

- bob dylan

two words:

white. devil.

put those two words together.

roll it, pack it, prep it however you want.

once that appropriately reverent preparation has been completed, put the vessel of choice to your eagerly awaiting lips, light that earthy, pungent bud, close your eyes and...

yes, my friends, take the deepest breath of your life. inhale like you're about to dive to the ocean's depths.

and hold it.

just when your lungs are bursting, screaming for air, exhale.

then sit back and smile.

hope you have some chill tunes a-playing. i've got alva noto and ryuichi sakamoto caressing my mind's ear with minimal, experimental electronics interspersed with some hypnotic piano playing.

yes, lady and gent, this is heaven.

thanks, white devil...

betwixt my sheets...

clearly, that's the number one answer to the question: where the fuck have you been hiding?

yes, dearest of my dear friends, i've been hiding betwixt my sheets...

what a year! i can't believe summer's coming to an end. god, what they've (you know, the 'they' that says anything worthwhile) been saying is oh so true: the older you get, the faster it goes...

what've i been up to? the usual: books, movies, music, loves (of course, i'm romanticizing some less than stellar liaisons; some downright tawdry! now i'm minimizing. okay, there were great and lesser loves. let's leave it at that) gained and lost, new job, new bong, new ipod (yeah, i was almost mugged back in april - cute story: on the train, some hood dude'n a gun, the first fight of my life later, the dude's running from me. yeah, also my first psychotic break.)

new job: no more homeless. that's all that needs to be said.

so, what's your story? what have you been up to?

comatose, but not dead...

no, i'm not dead.

'inappropriate behavior makes me laugh.'

- will ferrell

my itunes says:

as with new year's resolutions we have no intention of completing, top ten lists have sprouted 'cross our media universe over the last week or so with no respite expected for the next month.

it's in the midst of this crass display of public self-indulgence i ask myself the question: why not mine?

so, with no apologies, disclaimers, and other ways of dodging responsibility, i give you my 2007 top ten albums played by my 'pod (as determined by the play count):

10. not saying just saying - shout out out out out
9. horn of plenty - grizzly bear
8. yellow house - grizzly bear
7. endless summer - fennesz
6. harmony in ultraviolet - tim hecker
5. the night - morphine
4. sound chambers - ehlers/hautzinger/suchy
3. recordings 1994-1997 - space needle
2. so tonight that i might see - mazzy star
1. musique pour 3 femmes enceintes - marc leClair (akufen)

uh huh.

that's it.

this episode sponsored by a very tasty white widow...

all men are mortal

so, it took a while, but i've finally finished simone de beauvoir's book.

all men are mortal.

a great existentialist in her own right, this book rivals the best of camus and satre, but from quite a different slant. whereas my periodic forays into existentialist fiction over the years have exposed me to protagonists that aim to derive meaning in the face of meaninglessness in their environment - whether family, occupation, society, or tragedy - beauvoir presents us with a narrator whose ill-accepted immortality embodies meaninglessness itself. she uses this device to show how the the secondary characters create meaning precisely because of their limited lifespan.

it's a fascinating, but extraordinarily depressing read!

anyway, my intention isn't to do a book review, but rather to compare some themes with a milan kundera book i read several weeks ago - entitled 'immortality', interestingly enough.

i had posted a quote from kundera contrasting paths to highways as analogues to ways of living one's life. highways lead us from one point to another, from one goal to another, not really allowing us to experience the joy in the moment. paths are made for us to, ah, meander. "a path is a tribute to space. every stretch of path has meaning in itself and invites us to stop."

now from beauvoir by way of a peripheral character, garnier, regarding inertia in the face of eternity: "we don't have to count on the future to give meaning to our acts. if that were the case, all action would be impossible."

it's in the present that we create meaning for our lives. if one is always looking towards the future, driving down that highway at full fucking speed, usually to the next societally dictated destination, we miss out on daily meaning and happiness.

it seems evident that beauvoir's goal in using immortality as the guiding gimmick was to portray the ultimate meaninglessness of grand schemes, plots, and designs. all of our petty ambitions, all desires to leave our legacy or mark on the world are for naught. with death, our ambitions die with us. kundera makes a point that our immortality can last for a generation or two, depending on our fame and the memory of us in others. beauvoir's response is to show her immortal man, fosca, eventually forgetting everyone because, eventually, everyone is forgettable.

one last quote from fosca before i go:

"now i understand them. it's never what they receive that has value in their eyes, it's what they do. if they can't create, they must destroy. but in any case, they have to rebel against what is, otherwise they wouldn't be men."

it all comes back to that, doesn't it? we have to create meaning for ourselves, in our lives. no one can dictate what sparks that fire within. we are our own gods, to create or destroy as we wish...

merry christmas, y'all.

"make me love you and know that you alone exist among all other women. then the world will fall back into shape. there will be tears, smiles, expectations, fears. i'll be a living man again."

- fosca in simone de beauvoir's "all men are mortal"