Tag Archives: Radiohead

winter 2016-2017 on last.fm

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favorite 2016 music

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as for we who love to be astonished

i went to synagogue tonight for יוֹם כִּפּוּר. Yom Kippur. the Day of Atonement.

i need some humility. i need to remember all the good things i have, i need to be astonished by the perfect patterns of love and heartbreak and breathing in and out and bitching bitching bitching about life life life life, bountiful life, endlessly attacking our minds and bodies on all fronts as if it wants us to remember this war cannot be peace.

we can find peace. we can type furiously and then remember that Radiohead is playing—there’s Thom! he’s singing for you!—and remember to close one’s lids a tinge and make a strange hand gesture while breathing deeply and voicing the word “breathe” as if speaking “breathe” makes breathing all the easier.

we can find peace. breathe again and realize it’s not the metal ring nor the four finger hair tie nor the thing it binds nor the birds it blinds while in bed, twisting, yearning, frothing, soaring. it is the you and the he and the here and the now and the she and the she and the sea and the sounds.

we can find peace in sound. Continue reading

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The term is generally applied to alcohol, barbiturates, amphetamines, THC, PCP, cocaine, and heroin but also includes caffeine in coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee coffee

why yes, i did just let a man stick a needle in my eyelid and inject steroids. why, you ask? oh, because i trust him.

now, with a swollen lower right lid, i barely sit up—almost lie—in my bed, watching the curtains blow wild and green over my turntables like big ship sails, listening to the Who belt out covers of blues songs that could pass for hardcore sonic pornography, chewing on week-old pistachios, sipping on plastic water, and typing up a vacuous storm. it’s monday and i’m blogging.

i went to a baseball game last week and saw a pitcher end an inning. innings end about 17 or 18 times per baseball game, and pitchers are often the reason for those endings, seeing as how they throw the balls that cause strikes and home runs. anyway, this particular time, the pitcher walked off the mound with a little cross on his face and a little point to the heavens, as if he were thanking the Greek deities for their graciousness in allowing him to end that very inning. what a crock of shit! i don’t end every single paragraph i write with a prayer to Allah. i don’t even do so after each blog post is published! although, Christ, maybe i should…

what other things have i done lately? what other thoughts have i had? after all, what is a blog post but a description of sights and sounds, as mundane, murky, magical, or obsolescent they may be.

today, i went to a television studio. i don’t really have much more to say about that except that i saw lots of monitors and a pretty girl (or two) and important people.

i’ve had two amazing weekends back to back and—coincidentally—my girlfriend has been sober for two whole weekends. this most recent one was spent doing and eating and feeling many things, but it started with my limbs actually assembling a delicious spinach mushroom pasta for Chelsea and myself, followed by the spectacle of spectacles, ballet:

all the critics seem to love the San Francisco Ballet’s 2012 closing-production of Don Quixote and, this time around, i’m not one to disagree with critics. not only did i take my beautiful girl to a beautiful ballet, but i finally closed the loop on something i should have done almost two years ago: mixed marijuana and high art! yup yup yup, during the intermissions, Chelsea and i slipped to the City Hall-facing balcony—the very same one where i was offered a smoke so long ago—and took a toke from my own magic flute. and, as if the universe wasn’t content with closing a single loop, it sent an old man wandering to our balcony, who awkwardly conversed with us until i killed the awkwardness by offering him a smoke. his response: “far out!” i love ballet, i love San Francisco.

i also love girls.

these are the girls that are the waitresses that are the angels at It’s Tops Coffee Shop that i love that i yes that i love more coffee more smiles more eyes bright wide-opened white cream in my coffee, the girls that i love, the coffee that i love, the ballet spins music into my misty ears. coffee.

the rest of the weekend was spent sleeping in super late, loving friends, drinking beers, eating wings, eating omelettes, eating trout, eating salmon, celebrating Rachel, and hating my disgusting eye. oh well, there are worse things, i suppose.

do you ever read a blog post and think to yourself, “i wonder if this blogger stopped mid-post to take a gigantic shit.” not all who wonder are lost.

the weekend prior was just as—if not more—outstanding. if you assume that thursday and the first seventeen and a half hours of friday are not the weekend, that is. but if you somehow take thursday night to be part of the weekend, well then, good reader, i’ll have you know that just about the only good thing that happened to me that night was a small cup of tomato basil soup, a bit of grilled cheese, and a portion of water. the rest was hell and teeth-grating, dreaming of my sweetness pinned down of her own volition, writhing, unsmiling, drowning. and i knew not of her freedom until friday evening, when i threw all care to the wind and descended into Daly City, the land of beer and music.

everything will be okay in the end. if things aren’t okay, then it’s not the end. Continue reading

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notes from chem1b

i got a B- in this class. Continue reading

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stress [archive]

to-do list for the next month:

  • write 1-2 page lit paper
  • read 300+ pages for lit
  • write 4-5 page art paper
  • fafsa
  • write 8-10 page trag paper
  • write 1-2 page lit paper
  • get a summer job
  • write 1-2 page lit paper
  • write thesis proposal
  • register for classes
  • room draw
  • write 4-5 page art paper
  • write 4-5 page myth paper
  • write 8-10 page lit paper

  • study for myth midterm
  • study for Greek midterm

and yet, i really don’t feel as much anxiety as one might expect. a couple hours ago the internet died while abi expelled all the demons of stress from her system, so i hope she doesn’t think i just got sick of listening and signed off. i feel you, abi. after all, it is that time of the year. it’s strange to think that some people (read: Adam) are only beginning a new era, while me and so many others around me see our’s coming to a close.

i don’t know how i’m not stressing right now. after the internet died, i got into an organizing groove, one of my favorite activities. first, i connected my iphone to my computer and replaced a lot of the music on there with new stuff. all the while, i listened to music, of course. first some simon and garfunkel, a dash of minor threat, a dash of Radiohead, a dash of John Coltrane Quartet, and finally Nick Drake’s ‘Family Tree’ came on, which i let play on through ’til the end. i think the Drake really cooled my senses. i don’t know how many bay area shows, how many santa cruz shows, how many socal shows i’ve been to where a guy gets up in front of a little crowd of dirty music lovers and tries to sing and strum like he’s Nick Drake. half of the magic of the man for me is that he’s just a guy with a guitar, but he makes it sound unique. it’s a real challenge.

with the internet still dead, i let shuffle decide my next album to listen to while cleaning up my life. it chose j dilla’s ‘donuts.’ i’ve ranted a bit about it before on here, it’s real nice add hip hop instrumental samples music. i cleaned up my desk, got some laundry ready for the wash, placed a new screen cover on my iphone–generally did the little things that make my life feel less disorganized. i just got out of the shower and have nothing to do now. nothing to do–ha! i’ll upload this once the internet works, but until then, accept this psychic transmission: life is good. Continue reading

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this is the first page, it’s just so bright [archive]

There is a very pretty girl sitting next to me. It is the 8th day of the 2004th October since those in charge decided to record time in AD instead of BC. She’s reading Catcher in the Rye. I really enjoyed that book. It sounds like she does too. Page 70. That’s how far she is. I’m on Page 2. Of this notebook that is. But, is it really page 2? Just be it’s the second page doesn’t mean it’s Page 2. I mean, flip to Amnesiac. Those were the first pages. You can’t always have these guidelines. I’m a teenager. But that doesn’t mean I’m in the adolescent stage. I could be a child still, or perhaps an adult already, in the mind. Everything is in the mind. What we see, smell, taste, hear, feel and think we feel, hear, taste, smell, and see. Of course I’m going to be self-centered because I am centered in my self. The world does revolve around me. Some idioms just don’t apply anymore. Most do. Page 76. An important number, not unlike 2. There is a very pretty girl reading a book. There is a very pretty book being read by a girl. My arm hurts. Continue reading

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In Ghosts [archive]

there is way too much on my mind right now.

right now, i am listening to RADIOHEAD’s ‘IN RAINBOWS,’ a fantastic rock ‘n’ roll record about the universe. there might only be one thing that i enjoy doing more than listening to the record and it’s staring at the album art. IN/ RAINBOWS IN RAIN/BOWS IN RAINBOW/S IN RAINBOWS/ IN RAIN_BOWS RA D IOHEA _D _RAD IO HEA D yellow blue orange green yellow-orange red sky blue orange cosmic supernova enveloped my ice rink blue star child. they really got the aesthetic right.

before i continue, let me just say that we should make 6am the new midnight. that way, when you wanted to talk about your crazy night out partying, you wouldn’t have to waste your breath saying, “yeah, so last night slash this morning was fucking crazy.”

anyway, last night/this morning, tori and i spent the night at the ft. funston beach. all my life, all my conscious life, i’ve wanted to spend a night at the beach. and just sleep there. sure, it’s a bit cold, but what more can a human ask for, what more besides the sound of perfect rolling waves dashing against your dreams? nothing. i woke up with the dawn, stood up, wrapping my blankets around myself and stared at the sea for maybe an hour or more, while tori slept. the ocean is a beautiful thing. it reminds me so much of the universe.

tori and i had a long drunken discussion about the universe. it was kind of like the argument i have with a certain environmentalist who has an easy time seeing the world in terms of the man/nature dichotomy. look at that powerplant blocking my view of the lake. look at those hideous skyscrapers, like a tumor on the foggy bay. look at those scraps of metal, orbiting this life rock we call home. no, no, i cannot pry myself from the belief that man is as much a part of nature as i am, as you are, as the bees are, as the trees are, as the walri, fungi, cacti, music, blossoms, words, and rolling waves. nothing is unnatural.

is music alive? this past weekend has been utterly musical and magnificent. friday, adam tori and i headed over to outside lands, ticketless and determined to see some good performances. after circling the golden gate park concert’s perimeter once, we started making a second round, returning to a little hill that we sighted on the first trip. some people were walking down already. i sat on that hill for awhile, realizing that it led to the backs of a bunch of vendors. eventually, i just said fuck it. walked down the hill straight to the fence, thought once thought twice looked around thought trice thought quice looked around said fuck it and jumped. my heart was beating like a motherfucker, but i was in and safe. eventually tori and adam made it over too. we were elated.

so we let some reggae quell our adrenaline rushes, feasted, and caught half of beck’s set, before making our way to the massive monolith of fans that was the site of radiohead’s performance. minus some highly disruptive, certainly memorable sound glitches in the early part of their set, they put on an amazing show, as usual. starting with 15 Step, ending with Everything in Its Right Place (classic.), making sure to play You and Whose Army?, blowing my mind with a dramatically intense performance of Exit Music (For a Film), radiohead made it good. the fog might’ve helped them.

on saturday, jumping the fence worked equally simply as on friday. after catching the end of an excellent bluegrass performance by Abigail Washburn & the Sparrow Quartet feat. Bela Fleck, dan adam and i made our way to the front of the stage to make sure we could see the lines on Devendra Banhart’s face. before he played, he and the band came out to throw everyone ice creams! dan adam and i each caught one, got a ice cream sandwich myself. after i finished eating, the band came on stage and the show pleased me greatly. if you throw your fans ice cream before you play, if you cover a classic summer song during the summer at a summer festival, if you happen to end your set with a song completely stuck in the mind of one of your fans, then you have successfully put on a very pleasing show.

i thought my excitement had been exhausted after devendra, because even though adam was excited for the next act, M. Ward, i really hadn’t listened. boy was i mistaken. from the first second to the last my ears surrendered themselves to that man’s guitar. i love concerts.

after that show, adam dan and i headed over to amoeba records. i traded in a ton of horrible CDs and a couple good ones for two records: ‘Ambient 1: Music for Airports’ by Brian Eno and ‘Marquee Moon’ by Television, two outstanding releases. if you haven’t listened to either, you absolutely must. the first will make you more relaxed than you have ever been in your entire life. the second will also make you relaxed, but you might want a beer to relax with that one. on top of those, adam bought me nin’s ghosts on vinyl as a late birthday / early christmas present. super super super happy happy happy yes yes yes.

oh dear goodness: meryl and i are seeing nine inch nails live in less than two weeks.

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