Tag Archives: Mozart

2016 on last.fm

lastfm-2016 Continue reading

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last.fm loves dudes

Screen Shot 2016-03-03 at 9.13.17 AM Continue reading

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chronicle of a saturday walk in the city

#6

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Paris · Farningham · London · Amsterdam

~ 0 ~
horrible traffic
in n out
4-hour delay
“this is the worst airline ever”
chili’s out of salad and Mexican food
geographically challenged hostess
know your rights!
sleep? dreamy purple pinkish tint thereof
a moment in Oslo
Paris
nightmare on rue chaptal
Moulin Rouge

~ 1 ~
walk to espresso
Tour Eiffel
walk along the Seine
lunch in the Latin Quarter?
Notre Dame
espresso for the Louvre
kill in the garden
fancy ass French food
Arc de Triomphe
legs falling off
white wine and Lucky Strike

~ 2 ~
Père Lachaise
Indian at Chapelle
Musée d’Orsay
USA WINS 0-1
fancy ass fucking ave (dck sp + chkn brst)
farewell to the Seine
1-2-3!!! something something Algérie!!!

~ 3 ~
omelette complet at the Gare du Nord
Eurostar to Ebbsfleet
tea (twice) on the Tabsfield green
tomato basil, cheesy mushroom quiche, fresh strawberry creme brûlée, and a couple pints with the wedding party and co.
the cottage

~ 4 ~
fresh fruit, meat, a poached egg, and coffee
dressing for the wedding
Frost on the green
wedding at St Peter and St Paul’s Church
half Indian feast and dance (the Brits, the delicious Indian food, the champagne beer red and white wine, the light rain, and heavy dancing)
afterparty at the cottage

~ 5 ~
breakfast redux (hungover version)
football w Maya on the green
to London
appetizing Indian leftovers
The Tower
wandering in the rain
St. Paul’s
old fucking white egg-headed, perfectly circular black spectacle-wearing, pound-grubbing pieces of shit ushers guarding against pilgrims at the footsteps to the house of god
covent garden
pho
lazying and familying

~ 6 ~
waking up sans Natalie in a nasty mood
bacon on a roll
cold shower
Tate Modern
Eat.
The Globe
Parliament
Westminster
Evensong
Upminster then Whitechapel
ALG v GER

~ 7 ~
waking up w Natalie, happily
full English breakfast in Whitechapel
Natural History Museum
Kensington Gardens
fancy ass Indian food
£5 to the girl from Canada Macedonia CA
USA v BLG :(

~ 8 ~
scratched iris
mushroom omelette
nap to
Stonehenge
and nap from
Nando’s w David and Evelyn

~ 9 ~
to Amsterdam
grocery shopping
white wine
Concertgebouw
a spliff at Rookie’s
shoarma on the corner

~ 10 ~
homemade breakfast
double espresso
spliff on the diagonal green
Rijksmuseum
shopping, snacks in bed
Little Thai Prince
red light district
overpriced and pre-rolled
stoned wander home
ice cream

~ 11 ~
bacon breakfast
Blue Bird
Myrabelle, bartended by a more muscular and more feminine version of John Dwyer.
gluten-free crackers, goat cheese, smoked salmon, olives dripping in oil and basil, water, and wine
second Thai dinner
Vondelpark
Amstels all night at the cafe
NED v CRC

~ 12 ~
nightmare
check out
fresh fruit pancake across from Anne Frank
spliff on the green
Van Gogh Museum
rest in Vondelpark
walk
coffee
bus
plane
tube

~ 13 ~
tube
train
plane
Oslo
plane
Oakland
home? Continue reading

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Yeezus

http://www.setlist.fm/setlist/kanye-west/2013/oracle-arena-oakland-ca-6bc77226.html Continue reading

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montaña

the trip: https://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=San+Francisco,+CA&daddr=reno,+nv+to:Twin+Falls,+ID+to:bozeman,+mt+to:Livingston,+Mt+to:Yellowstone+National+Park,+Mammoth+Hot+Springs,+Park,+WY+to:Madison+Campground,+Yellowstone+National+Park,+Yellowstone+National+Park,+WY+to:Grand+Prismatic+Spring,+Grand+Loop+Rd,+Yellowstone+National+Park,+WY+to:Bridge+Bay+to:Black+Dragons+Caldron+to:Grand+Canyon+of+the+Yellowstone+to:Tower+Falls,+Yellowstone+National+Park,+Park,+WY+to:Yellowstone+National+Park,+Mammoth+Hot+Springs,+Park,+WY+to:Silver+Gate,+Cooke+City-Silver+Gate,+Mt+to:Lily+Lake,+wyoming+to:Red+Lodge,+Mt+to:East+Rosebud+Lake+to:Bozeman,+Mt+to:Salt+Lake+City,+UT+to:Cottonwood+Heights,+UT+to:San+Francisco,+CA&hl=en&ll=45.135555,-109.660034&spn=2.332783,4.927368&sll=44.085612,-111.346436&sspn=1.187668,2.463684&geocode=FVJmQAIdKAe0-CkhAGkAbZqFgDH_rXbwZxNQSg%3BFaEsWwIdVcnb-CmdoJKSrkCZgDGH9zh0zsXFQA%3BFZd1iQIdOXct-SmvbrLFpKOsVDGqwfgs7HfLJA%3BFQQTuQId_YBh-SkTiLpPTERFUzGqYDv3ZND1Yw%3BFeK8uAIdLP1o-SkjR6AnvhNFUzFMjIRaJjKWRQ%3BFWdJrgIdn9pm-SmTip7xDdRPUzEivO2MPaFCKg%3BFaw7qQIdLWRk-SHBkZCfc_PzXylp4V9GjMNRUzHBkZCfc_PzXw%3BFSlmpwId_b1k-SFEDigKVP2Vkyn1R8IPvOtRUzFEDigKVP2Vkw%3BFWGNpwIdhCNr-SkDg3iVAx1OUzEd4aKdP0elCw%3BFbrZqAIdaONq-Sk54oy7KB9OUzE57x-bctnMHg%3BFdX9rAIdtsxr-SmLJZWTozZOUzFW-0sS9T6UWA%3BFaAFrQIdAKBr-SnZG8ZgqDZOUzE6nzHh-HWx9Q%3BFWdJrgIdn9pm-SmTip7xDdRPUzEivO2MPaFCKg%3BFSTArgIdA7Fx-SnXSLRtWFROUzEXWfq8dJ9Jhw%3BFZnWrQIdkPB1-Sn7L_MIfPpOUzE4M1PUmK_Vrw%3BFfJ6sQIdmwZ9-Sn1_Eb3GSpPUzEL1yB19jWKtQ%3BFcGosQIdGvp2-SnBGDBmxRhPUzFD9bOX3UlzNA%3BFQQTuQId_YBh-SkTiLpPTERFUzGqYDv3ZND1Yw%3BFcv1bQIdma1U-SntMdGIlD1ShzHKMU1IoLdTWw%3BFUzJawIdm9FV-SknMety2mJShzFAIhqeYpUiBw%3BFVJmQAIdKAe0-CkhAGkAbZqFgDH_rXbwZxNQSg&oq=san+fr&t=h&mra=ls&z=8 Continue reading

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ACOCK

tonight, Chris and i attended the San Francisco Symphony for a night of concertos (Vivaldi, Bach), a divertimento (Mozart), and a serenade (Mozart).

they dazzled, as expected. also as expected, due to my green and clear high, the musicians raised my mind higher and higher where the wind blows stronger than a legion of breezes.

he’s a hustler first
you only discover when
“friend” he does define.

some people don’t deserve more than a haiku. some people deserve fourteen fantastic lines laid lovingly on a heart-shaped mirror while others hear epic poems describing their lives from across the river Styx.

one of my best friend’s best friends from childhood died tonight. Continue reading

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this is why i’m hot (two fistfuls of ice)

in which the Hero decides to replicate the style of the Lady John Milton when summarizing post contents in the Excerpt. Continue reading

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That’s how I see life too.

i went to the San Francisco Opera with my dad last night. we saw Mozart’s epically long (3.5 hour) Le Nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro), a classic tale of love, lust, faith, deceit, and endless comedy, all wrapped nicely in Wolfie’s to-be-expected prodigious musical prowess.

seriously, Mozart might be the only man in the universe, dead or living, capable of keeping me sealed to a seat built for a man half my height for 3.5 hours while a bunch of golden-throated men and women run around a shoddily-designed set pretending a plot that could have been summed up more hilariously in a 22 minute episode of Friends. but as i told my mama, it ain’t about the story, it ain’t about the set, it ain’t about the acting, it ain’t about the libretto, and it most certainly ain’t about the “who’s who society dressed to the nines” that my dad keeps going on and on about, no no no no no it’s about the MUSIC.

that’s the overture, which i only heard because my dad dropped me off in front of the opera house before looking for parking (we were running a little late). he wasn’t exactly excited about going to a 3+ hour opera, Mozart be damned. sometimes i wonder why he bought season tickets, but i think he just loves driving to the city for fancy affairs.

fancy with a San Francisco twist. during the intermission, we stepped out onto the balcony, a column-lined perch with a grand view of city hall, illuminated by electric light and an almost full moon in the clear september sky.

i’m laughing my ass off as my dad tries to fit me and city hall in the same frame because in a circle around the tall table just behind him are two 60-year-old couples sharing a sweetly smelling joint sticking shyly out of a cigarette holder. not only that, but as my dad’s standing there taking these pictures, one of the old guys is holding the joint out to me asking me if i want to partake. of course i wanted to, but i politely refused, laughing, because i was out with my dad. the old dude’s reply? “come on! it’s the opera!” indeed! and, let me say for the fourth time in this post, 3.5 hours is quite a long time to last without at least a breeze of intoxication.

unfortunately, my hearty laughing quickly turned to internal bleeding when two gay guys, standing on the balcony just to the left of the shot above, started necking lovingly. of course i didn’t care. but my dad vomited an audible groan of “oh god” the instant they embraced and kissed (up until that point they were just standing close together and talking, you couldn’t tell they were a couple). fucking disgusting. i wanted to get the hell out of there because i’m sure they heard, i was so embarrassed. how the fuck would you feel if you kissed someone you loved and someone a few feet away groaned? these guys were nice enough to ignore him (maybe they’re used to it, maybe they didn’t hear), but if i were in their position i would have lobbed a few FUCK YOUs and maybe even a couple DIEs. after a few seconds of awkwardness that felt like forever, we made our way back inside. at the very last balcony spot before the door back inside, we saw a girl/boy couple in almost the exact same position as the gay couple, to which my dad said, “that’s more like it.” fucking disgusting.

back upstairs, we dined like kings to two small glasses of Merlot and a turkey sandwich split between us both ($28 for the meal, christ). we sat at a table for four where one lady (apparently from Ohio? Iowa? somewhere with good opera supposedly?) sat all by her lonesome, drinking a glass of white wine and waiting for her friend in the bathroom. i got up to grab some napkins and came back to my dad and the lady talking. i gathered that the lady was complaining about a couple sitting in front of her making out inappropriately and annoyingly during the performance. fair enough. then my dad goes, “we had the same thing except it was two guys, which is even worse.” fucking disgusting. i really appreciate you taking me to the opera and i have a good time with you, Dad, but your views, attitudes, and actions toward people with a slightly different lifestyle than your own is–one more time–fucking disgusting, vile, and maybe downright evil. i thought you were all about letting people live the lives they choose?

my parents, maybe mostly my dad, love talking about how elected officials fighting for gay rights are often so quick to proclaim their own straightness. “i think homosexuals should have the right to marry… BUT MAKE NO MISTAKE I AM DEFINITELY HETEROSEXUAL!!!!!!!!” i’m sure it’s happened, but my dad loves saying that’s how they all are, always. bullshit. but anyway, since i’m about to get all hetero, let me just say that i’ve fooled around with boys, but it’s just really not my thing. that should really say “boy,” but who’s splitting hairs?

fucking babe, right? that’s Danielle de Niese, one of the opera’s leading sopranos, who sang the sassy, sexy part of Susanna, Figaro’s faithful wife. and goddamn can i just say she looks fantastic in a corset? i already told this stupid lie of a joke to Meryl, but i swear you could see that cleavage even from our nosebleed seats, four rows from the back of the theater.

mm… boobs: the meaning of life.

even though i stayed up real late last night talking to Meryl on the phone, i woke up early enough this morning to join rush hour traffic (i took my car in for a smog check + brake pads replacement). during the two hour wait, i walked to the closest Bank of America location to deposit some cash, followed by a visit to Jimmy’s Cafe, the closest independent coffee shop with five stars on Yelp. lucky for me, it was only a block away (and right across the street from a starbucks).


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the whole walk, both ways, and while i drank my giant cappuccino with a warmed up almond croissant, i started my journey through the original scroll of Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, which Adam lent to me when i saw him in Tokyo. (my goal is to have it all read by the time he returns this weekend.) i think i’m almost a hundred pages in and i definitely already prefer it to Mexico City Blues, a Kerouac book of 242 choruses or jazz poems all about Buddhism and eternity and drugs and stuff. this book, which is actually written as one giant paragraph, is so good at portraying Life. depression disappointment jubilee excitement expectation awe fear pride–everything, it’s all there. i find it ridiculous and annoying that this book was ever published with the real names Neal Cassady, Allen Ginsberg, etc. substituted with fake names like Dean Moriarty, Carlo Marx, etc. he’s painting Life so lucidly, why do such a dumb thing like that to muddle it up unnecessarily?

weirdly enough, his word performance of Life reminds me of Panda Bear’s musical performance of Life, both on his albums and in the concert hall. i especially thought about this a lot the second time i saw Lennox live, though, just because the show felt so emotional. not just emotional in the “arousing or characterized by intense feeling” sense, but also in the sense that it runs the gamut of emotions. one moment you’re holding your head down, thinking some really dark thoughts, the next minute he’s got you jumping up and down with your hands in the air letting the universe love you, but most minutes you’re reeling secretly but wildly between the two extremes in an inescapable swing that mimics the rollercoaster ride that is Life. sounds like rubbish and probably is.

by the way, while we’re still on the topic of boobs (what, you didn’t know?), let me just say that i love the way Kerouac talks about girls. maybe it’s the Neal Cassady in him, but Keroauc’s sex is not dirty, it’s not hot, it’s not even sexy, it’s just plain fun. he makes his and his friends’ efforts to get into girls’ panties seem like a harmless game of hide-and-seek, except everyone does a terrible job of hiding and a spectacular job of seeking, and depending on the direction of the wind, either everyone wins or everyone loses. sex is fun. Continue reading

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A Galaxy of Startling Sounds! [archive]

god i’m glad to be back in the bay. this place is addicting. beautiful people, music, and surrealism everywhere.

for example, the evening before she left, Rachel and i caught the tail-end of this crazy electronic music party on Treasure Island, in the same general area where the Treasure Island Music Festival is held. by the time we got there, everyone was smashed: people were drinking, smoking, whipping, dancing, rolling, tripping, and hooping out so hard, and there wasn’t a douchebag security officer or cop in sight. the sun was setting behind the north bay, a light mist was enveloping San Francisco, and the bridges slowly illuminated in expectation of night. we should’ve skipped the Haight St. fair altogether for this party.

the day before, i watched my very first 2010 World Cup game, USA vs England, at at&t park in the city. i’m already really into it. i seriously love soccer. epically huge field, one little ball, one point at a time, two 45min halves + tiny bit of stoppage time, no bullshit, no breaking for commercials, just the game. i’m going to actually try to watch every game played by teams i’m rooting for (Greece already lost one, USA tied once, and Italy tied once). perfect balance: i’ve got two shitty teams and one great team.

next game on my schedule is Greece vs Nigeria on Thursday at 7am. sweet.

didn’t do much else that day but read and sleep. later on i met with Rachel & company at a dance club in the mission. it was so so crowded with sweaty people dancing their asses off to some pretty sweet afrojams. i paid $5 to get in and another $5 for a strangely good whiskey-orange-ginger drink. bass kind of crapped out halfway through the night, which was discouraging, but then someone busted out a big ass drum to make up for it. nice.

the day/night before, Rachel and i joined Chris and his friend Sofie at Hippie Hill for some tall Tecates, silly smokes, and jazz jams. at night, we went out to 222 Hyde (fuck the $5 covers, man) for bumping electronic tunes and dancing in the dark. i’m really not sure how all us alcohol/music lovers got into this little predicament, paying to get into places to pay even more just for a drink with the possibility of hearing what you want to hear. i think we should just come to my house for free and blast all our favorite music while getting ten fools drunk on one $50 bottle of whiskey.

whatever. like i said, i am so fucking happy to be back in San Francisco Bay. claremont is kind of a boring place, but it’s ok. i had fun with my friends down there, especially Allison. we went swimming in the ocean at Seal Beach. no, there were no seals. yes, there was another mythical creature (Donni). the last night in claremont, Allison and i ate fucking amazing sushi and sake at this tiny place on foothill eclipsed by the hilarious sushi cruise, followed by a yogurtland excursion. what else? we had some silly parties. the crazy cat, Soy Milk, was in heat the whole time. a week of yowling, crying, humping, and frustration. everyone gets laid but poor Soy Milk. and Kira, i guess. but she was too young to care. cutest puppy in the world.

besides reading 200 Emily Dickinson poems in two days, i ended up watching a few movies while i was down there:


of course i’ve already seen Kill Bill. it was Allison that was the virgin. last time i watched it was with Mark, a triple feature sandwich with Tarantino as the buns and this trippy 1973 Alejandro Jodorowsky cult film as the meat. this time wasn’t merely as epic since we watched the movie on two separate days, but some things never change: volume 2 just does not compete with volume 1. but both are great.

the other three i had never seen and i had them already downloaded on my computer, so i watched them, one a day, while Allison was at work. Helvetica is an independent documentary film from 2007 about typography and graphic design, centered around the typeface of the same name. Helvetica is everywhere. 3M, American Airlines, American Apparel, Apple (for Mac OS X, the iPhone OS, and the iPod), AT&T, BMW, JCPenney, Jeep, Kawasaki, Lufthansa, Microsoft, Motorola, New York City’s Metropolitan Transportation Authority, Panasonic, Orange, RE/MAX, Toyota, the U.S. government (for tax forms and NASA shuttles), and Verizon Wireless all use Helvetica. it was interesting hearing the wide and varied opinions of typographers talking about the typeface. some find it beautiful, some find it disgusting. but all agreed that the font has a power of ubiquity, morphing to the needs of its employer. in a sexy American Apparel ad it might look edgy, while for Apple it might take on an air of elegance, and for the US government it merely serves to promote clarity. Helvetica, more than one commentator noted, is like air. it’s just there. [disclosure 1007311925: this blog is written in Helvetica.]

the second movie, Les Enfants du Paradis, or Children of Paradise, is a 1945 Marcel Carné black-and-white film set in the 1820s-30s Parisian theatre scene. over three hours long, the film takes us through the lives of a beautiful courtesan, Garance, and the four men–a mime, an actor, a criminal, and an aristocrat–who love/lust/desire her in different ways. it’s long and tiring, but the film is just so well made that you never really get bored. this clip doesn’t have subtitles, but i bet you’ll still watch the whole thing:

the last movie, a super-meta 1999 Spike Jonze cult classic, had been recommended to me a few times because people know i love trippy shit. yeah it was a pretty weird movie, but it wasn’t the best. i probably shouldn’t do this, but here’s my favorite clip from the whole thing, by far. it comes pretty well into the movie so you probably shouldn’t watch it if you plan on seeing it anytime soon.

it’s been awhile, but i added a bunch of new music to my iTunes yesterday. a ton came from Rachel……

Bad Brains
Balkan Beat Box
Bassnectar
Beats Antique
EOTO
Explode Into Colors
The Glitch Mob
Mimosa
Pretty Lights
Rusko

…some came from the Table Manners blog…

Actress
Anthony “Shake” Shakir
D.F. & Pam
Jonny L
Kikumoto Allstars
Snuff Crew
Untold
plus a bunch of TM mixes

…and a few came from other randoms…

Georgia Anne Muldrow (Ryan)
Ludacris (no idea)
The S.O.S. Band (Chris)

…i’m in disco/funk/soul heaven:

what now? reading reading reading. i’m about 3/4 through this book:

it’s by Haruki Murakami, a contemporary Japanese writer semi-famous for his 1987 novel, Norwegian Wood. i’d read that one before, and it’s great, but Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World is an entirely different monster. it interweaves two seemingly separate tales, one involving a man living in a ultra-modern world where one can have a high-tech sci-fi nonsense job like data laundering and shuffling, and the other involving a goldilocked unicorn-inhabitated fantasy land where a Dreamreader grips unicorn skulls to read old dreams, and… i give up. it’s useless trying to explain a book like this. just read it. you especially, Meryl.

good news! one of the most depressing things that struck me about leaving Pomona was facing the realization that free virtuosic classical concerts wouldn’t be practically hand-delivered to my backyard anymore. but i found out that the Old St. Mary’s Cathedral in San Francisco holds free noontime concerts every tuesday! i went today and basked in the brilliant clarinet, viola, and piano of the Trio Brillante:

Trio, Op. 83, No. 2 (Max Bruch)
Trio, Op. 83, No. 6 — “Night Song” (Max Bruch)
Trio, K. 498 “Kegelstatt” (W. A. Mozart)
Concertpiece No. 1 (Felix Mendelssohn)

oh, by the fucking holy no way shit, i have purchased Panda Bear tickets. actually, ticketmaster (die fuckers die) says the tickets are already in the mail. holy god. i’m not going to see him at pitchfork anymore, apparently, but it’s all good; i got tickets to see him monday, september 6 at the fox theater, 1807 telegraph avenue, oakland, 94612, california, united states, earth (though when the time comes, my mind will hardly still be here).

i’m excited, but i’ve definitely got to tone it down a bit, or else i’ll set myself up for disappointment. same with the record, which is due to be released in september also. starting July 13 though, singles are coming to Paw Tracks, Kompakt, Domino, and Fat Cat. Kompakt?! that’s supposed to be microhouse and minimal techno shit! did Panda Bear make a minimal house album!? i would die. i know he’s already played shows with new material, but im not ready…..

ps, i might be traveling to Argentina y Chile! oh my god i hope. Continue reading

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