Monthly Archives: August 2010

Taylor

do you believe it possible for two parallel ideas and emotions to simultaneously peak in the minds of two previous lovers?

well, you at least believe there’s a difference between pondering and feeling, that’s sure enough.

right now, a very close friend of mine is suffering. a very close friend of hers died. halfway across the country, she was told of the news, halfway across the country, she could only dream them lies. disconnection motivates reconnection and reconnection tells the same lies. black black black black black. not anymore it was hard to hear full circle, i guess but for now, it’s gone couldn’t breathe kind of empty i don’t know there aren’t even words it happened. burritos, thorny, roses, gnarly, ecstasy, shards of feeling alright.

meanwhile, my mind has been recycling the same benign thought, “Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space.” like out of thin air the idea materialized and ejected me from whatever plane of security i had previously inhabited. it started with housesitting because that felt like a long, lonely interstellar experience. a multi-platform spaceship sitting in suburbia. at the end of the voyage, i read about how Kubrick made 2001 and then less than a week later i watched Kubrick’s 2001. after looking at the photography of close encounters and repeatedly spacing to French house dedicated to a circular star map, i reserve a twelve hour plane to Japan to catch in less than twelve hours. i’ve been listening to Spacemen 3 all night and my mind is about to vacuum. by the way, this is all taking place in space.

death & space

death (n.) beyond the atmosphere of life.
space (n.) the total and permanent cessation of the earth.

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Mars

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The Tarantula Zone

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CL0024+17

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beating around the Tennyson

Monolith
curled up in the fatal position
at your feet, like your dreams
would often tell (except this time
it’s real). though your Universe
seems irreversibly extinguished, know
your flesh grows greater power: your blood,
your steel, your mountain peak
nerves will shudder under Impact, but
they’ll rise again, inexplicable
rogue waves to kill
the nearest fears.

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2010: A Space Odyssey

Mark came over tonight, second time in the past week. and, like last time, we tripped over art–music, photos, film–over cake and beer. this time, however, our subconscious selves selected a theme for the evening: space.

it started innocently enough. when Mark walked in, Holy Fuck’s Latin had just finished playing, letting linger an uncommon gap of silence in the house. all day i’d been listening to a bunch of new artists–Holy Fuck, !!!, Surfer Blood–in a perhaps premature preparation for Treasure Island Music Festival, but now i decided it was time to let Shuffle decide and pressed play on Layla. which lasted about 30 seconds. i then switched over to Planisphère, a 17-minute Justice symphony from 2008 that i just discovered yesterday. four movements long, it’s just enough raucous electro house to tear your mind apart and cannon the pieces to the stars.

taking a seat beside me at the dining room table, Mark joined me for a feast of French sounds. with my mom ten feet away, troubleshooting her Picasa problems, we rocked the fuck out in pure armchair fashion to “new” Justice.

then we embarked on a truly epic journey.

though i’ve seen it countless times (and its ending countless^countless times), this was Mark’s very first time with the ultimate Kubrick masterpiece. the ultimate sci-fi masterpiece. the film to end all film.

he loved it, of course. and he understood what it was all about, of course. no, i don’t mean that he immediately caught on to how aliens left the monolith on Earth four million years ago as a challenge and how when we finally unearthed it on the Moon in 2001 it set off a signal to alert those same aliens and how blah blah blah unnecessary minor details unnecessary minor details unnecessary minor details. i mean, he completely understood that Kubrick’s odyssey is a film for the imagination. the story takes a backseat, the dialogue burrows under the music, and even the music sometimes bows out to silence. 2001 is not a movie but a place in which the mind must face the terrifying prospect of roaming free the universe of possible thoughts.

naturally, Mark’s mind eventually wandered to the SPACE PROJECT of photographer Vincent Fournier:

[caption id="attachment_1061" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="Kjell Henriksen Observatory #02, Svalbard, Norway, 2010"][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_1062" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="Antennas Filed SOUSY radar, Svalbard, Norway"][/caption] [caption id="attachment_1063" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="EISCAT radar, Svalbard, Norway, 2010"][/caption] [caption id="attachment_1064" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="BAF ROOM 65#01, Guiana Space Center, 2007"][/caption] [caption id="attachment_1065" align="aligncenter" width="500" caption="Anechoic Chamber, ESTEC, The Netherlands, 2008"][/caption]

an anechoic chamber is a room designed to stop reflections of either sound or electromagnetic waves. combined with insulation from exterior sources of noise, the chamber simulates a quiet open space of infinite dimension. like in space!

when i die, please don’t put me in the fucking ground. send me to the stars! actually, don’t wait until i die. send me now! send me to Jupiter! please! please? who can ask? who do i have to kill? who do i have to fuck around here to get goddamn clearance on a craft headed for the firmament. i love nights like this, because it reminds me i’m a speck of star more than anything else.

it was a night nothing like being punched in the stomach and knifed in the kidneys. Continue reading

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Emily Dickinson favorites (251-300)

more ED!!

276

Many a phrase has the English language –
I have heard but one –
Low as the laughter of the Cricket,
Loud, as the Thunder’s Tongue –

Murmuring, like old Caspian Choirs,
When the Tide’s a’ lull –
Saying itself in new inflection –
Like a Whippoorwill –

Breaking in bright Orthography
On my simple sleep –
Thundering its Prospective –
Till I stir, and weep –

Not for the Sorrow, done me –
But the push of Joy –
Say it again, Saxon!
Hush – Only to me!

280

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through –

And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum –
Kept beating – beating – till I thought
My Mind was going numb –

And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space – began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here –

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down –
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing – then –

288

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – Too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one’s name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!

290

Of Bronze – and Blaze –
The North – Tonight –
So adequate – it forms –
So preconcerted with itself –
So distant – to alarms –
An Unconcern so sovereign
To Universe, or me –
Infects my simple spirit
With Taints of Majesty –
Till I take vaster attitudes –
And strut upon my stem –
Disdaining Men, and Oxygen,
For Arrogance of them –

My Splendors, are Menagerie –
But their Competeless Show
Will entertain the Centuries
When I, am long ago,
An Island in dishonored Grass –
Whom none but Beetles – know. Continue reading

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The Solipsist

my eyes are really getting me down. i know it’s stupid, but i almost didn’t even want to hang out with anybody at my mom’s birthday party last night because i was sick of everyone seeing my fucked up lids. so i was sitting on the toilet in the downstairs bathroom, trying to figure out how to get over my vanity, march my little butt upstairs, and chill with family, when i decided to read a poem. my bathroom doesn’t have any books of poetry in it, so i pulled out my phone and loaded up this poetry app created by the Poetry Foundation. even if a little cheesy, the app is actually pretty awesome. you spin two dials–the top controls moods/emotions (doubt, insecurity, frustration, etc.) and the bottom controls topics (love, youth, work and play, etc.)–and the app then lists every poem that falls under that particular combination (worry & family, passion & love, blame & love, etc.) there’s also an option to just shake the phone, which randomly spins the dials.

even though my styes might not having anything to do with it, i attribute them and any other health problems i get to a little thing called AGING. (truth be told, my asthma made me more of a sickling back in the day than i’ve ever been since.) no matter. i was fucking FRUSTRATED and sick of dying, so i slid the dials to “frustration & aging” and started scrolling through the 42 poems offered to me, until i saw one called “The Solipsist,” written by Troy Jollimore.:

Don’t be misled:
that sea-song you hear
when the shell’s at your ear?
It’s all in your head.

That primordial tide—
the slurp and salt-slosh
of the brain’s briny wash—
is on the inside.

Truth be told, the whole place,
everything that the eye
can take in, to the sky
and beyond into space,

lives inside of your skull.
When you set your sad head
down on Procrustes’ bed,
you lay down the whole

universe. You recline
on the pillow: the cosmos
grows dim. The soft ghost
in the squishy machine,

which the world is, retires.
Someday it will expire.
Then all will go silent
and dark. For the moment,

however, the black-
ness is just temporary.
The planet you carry
will shortly swing back

from the far nether regions.
And life will continue—
but only within you.
Which raises a question

that comes up again and again,
as to why
God would make ear and eye
to face outward, not in?

there’s no cure for social anxiety quite like solipsism. and Blue Moon. and Maker’s Mark. and Flor de Caña. and Newcastle. and Jacuzzi. and Moon Safari.

so the party was fun. but when i first walked up, no music was playing! ridiculous. i wasn’t going to do anything about it (paranoid that i push my music on everyone too much) until my dad asked me, “is there any way we can get music up here?” within a couple minutes i had hooked up Danny’s ipod speaker setup and started playing Moon Safari, while i staked out my spot for the night right there on the floor next to the speakers with a delicious Blue Moon. moon moon moon moon. i ended up djing the night away, playing all the classics: Air, Beatles, Blondie, Creedence Clearwater Revival, DJ Shadow, Fela Kuti, Lupe Fiasco, M.I.A., Michael Jackson, Pink Floyd, Wild Cherry, 2Pac, with a deluge of disco as the night’s diadem.

yum. ate a ton of delicious spaghetti, a couple pieces of chicken (that i didn’t feel like squeezing this time), chocolate ice cream, and strawberry/banana cake. i’m really not that big a fan of cake unless it has fruit in it. thus: pie > cake. usually.

i ended up getting pretty drunk, which makes a good deal of sense considering how many different kinds of liquor i mixed (beer, rum, tequila, whiskey, and wine). once everyone had left (and as i sipped on my second-to-last drink of the night), i tried my hand at a game of sc2 and got my ass beat. i played Terran (as usual) and attempted a new strategy: build a base army of marines, marauders, and medivacs, while focusing on the real goal: hella fucking banshees and vikings. well, of course, this guy brought over an epic army of Zerg forces before i could even get my second banshee. and my “base army” of mmm got obliterated in a few seconds. fuck. when the game first started, i typed “fuck man i’m hella drunk so bare with me,” and all this guy replied was “ok.” what the fuck? not even one “ha”? what a dick. he was probably so pleased with his fucking easy win. douche.

not wanting to make my already-horrible-record any more horrible, i logged off battle.net and ducked downstairs to my room. smoked a little bowl, swallowed three pills, rubbed my eyes with ointment, and got in bed with Emily Dickinson. it’s nice to know that, even on the most lonesome nights, she’ll always get in bed with you. read 50 poems, but i too stoned and tired for anything but lying down, i put on my headphones and let Arthur Russell sweep me away to unconscious bliss.

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Emily Dickinson favorites (201-250)

i drunkstonedly read 50 ED poems last night. here are my favorites:

204

A slash of Blue –
A sweep of Gray –
Some scarlet patches on the way,
Compose an Evening Sky –
A little purple – slipped between –
Some Ruby Trousers hurried on –
A Wave of Gold –
A Bank of Day –
This just makes out the Morning Sky.

208

The Rose did caper on her cheek –
Her Bodice rose and fell –
Her pretty speech – like drunken men –
Did stagger pitiful

Her fingers fumbled at her work –
Her needle would not go –
What ailed so smart a little Maid –
It puzzled me to know –

Till opposite – I spied a cheek
That bore another Rose –
Just opposite – Another speech
That like the Drunkard goes –

A Vest that like her Bodice, danced –
To the immortal tune –
Till those two troubled – little Clocks
Ticked softly into one.

212

Least Rivers – docile to some sea.
My Caspian – thee.

232

The Sunjust touched the Morning –
The Morning – Happy thing –
Supposed that He had come to dwell
And Life would all be Spring!

She felt herself supremer
A RaisedEthereal Thing!
Henceforth – for Her – What Holiday!
Meanwhile – Her wheeling King –
Trailed – slow – along the Orchards –
His haughtyspangled Hems –
Leaving a new necessity!
The want of Diadems!

The Morning – flutteredstaggered
Felt feebly – for Her Crown
Her unanointed forehead
Henceforth – Her only One!

249

Wild Nights – Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile – the Winds –
To a Heart in port –
Done with the Compass –
Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden –
Ah, the Sea!
Might I but moor – Tonight –
In Thee! Continue reading

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recordsitting

chronological. alternates between a record of Adam’s and a record of mine, starting with one of his, though that one will soon be mine. bracketed area refers to party time refers to chaos refers to incomplete album listen. after brackets alternations begin anew, starting (perhaps unjustly) with one of mine.

Lateralus — Tool
Symphony No. 9 in E Minor (“From the New World”) [Dvorak] — London Philharmonic Orchestra (Alexander Gibson, conducting)
Moon Safari — Air
Surrealistic Pillow — Jefferson Airplane
Love is Simple — Akron/Family
Endless Summer — The Beach Boys
In a Safe Place — The Album Leaf
Chariots of Fire: Music from the Original Soundtrack — Vangelis
Feels — Animal Collective
Ummagumma — Pink Floyd
Water Curses — Animal Collective
Music for Zen Meditation — Tony Scott
Merriweather Post Pavilion — Animal Collective
What Now My Love — Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass
Fall Be Kind — Animal Collective
2001: A Space Odyssey: Music from the Original Soundtrack
Funeral —
Arcade Fire
Beat — King Crimson
Future Perfect — Autolux
The Wall — Pink Floyd
Rejoicing in the Hands / Niño Rojo — Devendra Banhart
Marquee Moon — Television
Cripple Crow — Devendra Banhart
Blonde on Blonde — Bob Dylan
{
If You’re Feeling Sinister — Belle and Sebastian
Person Pitch — Panda Bear
Let’s Dance — David Bowie
Revolver — The Beatles
Tean Dream — Beach House
Blonde on Blonde — Bob Dylan
Repeater — Fugazi
Close Encounters with the Third Kind
In the Army 1981 — Puffy Areolas
2001: A Space Odyssey: Music from the Original Soundtrack
Help — Thee Oh Sees
Ghosts I-IV — Nine Inch Nails
Highway 61 Revisited — Bob Dylan
A Tribute to Jack Johnson — Miles Davis
Purple Rain — Prince
Beat — King Crimson
Fly Pan Am – Fly Pan Am
}
Purple Rain — Prince
You Forgot It In People — Broken Social Scene
Ghosts I-IV — Nine Inch Nails
Fly Pan Am – Fly Pan Am
Help — Thee Oh Sees
Bromst — Dan Deacon
Discovery — Daft Punk Continue reading

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