words, words, words
|
|
|
|
|
If I begin to detail myself here, will you understand?
P. I am me
Q. I don't always know exactly who that is
R. I am Quaker
S. I like words and playing with them
T. I like genmaicha tea
U. I like the word napkin more than most others
V. I spend time walking my neighborhood
W. I cook rice often
X. I sleep well most every night
Y. I eat large amounts of fruit and vegetables
Z. I munch, sleep, write, create, cook, bike, watch, walk, listen, hope, learn, drink, live, breathe, touch, know, question, taste, copy, read, stare, carry, talk, dance, finger, try.
raisin@gmail.com
albums:
Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs
Erasure: I Say, I Say, I Say
Depeche Mode: Black Celebration
The Beach Boys: Pet Sounds
Marvin Gaye: What's Going On?
David Bowie: Hunky Dory
George Michael: Listen without Prejudice
George Gershwin: Porgy and Bess
Yo La Tengo: And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out
songs:
Wild is the Wind: Nina Simone
Come Undone: Duran Duran
Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini: Rachmaninov
My Funny Valentine: Chet Baker
Feeling Yourself Disintegrate: The Flaming Lips
This Must Be the Place: The Talking Heads
Hyperballad: Bjork
|
|
|
|
|
|
Saturday, October 05, 2002
Underworld's new cd is surprisingly good. I think I like it better than their first two, which says a lot. There is much reflection in the music, tore me between staying inside to listen to it or running outside to enjoy the seductive coolness of the day. This is fall. Yes, I saw it on the way to work today, some of the leaves almost ready to change, the fields of growth some form of bright green or maybe yellow, orange. I never know, with my colorblind eyes. But somehow I can still see the beauty in those curvy fields lined by trees. Who knew Illinois could be so beautiful, when the sun isn't burning and the air isn't steamy, when the corn droops from the excesses of summer. I daydreamed of painting a large tree, playing with the fall colors because I don't know what I actually see, can't describe it to you. maybe I could paint it though, meld the colors to make something like fall, at least to my eyes. This is when I most want to have wings, to fly over the crop fields, see all the things you can't see from a car, be on top of things instead of just beside them. what views for my eyes, for my camera. When I daydreamed of flying in my four-wheeler as a kid, I never cared about being able to see the world better. Then it was escaping or reaching distances more quickly. Now that I have more solitude than I can handle, escaping isn't such a beautiful idea. But looking, looking, looking, all i want to do anymore is look at everything around me. I can't handle judging yet, I haven't seen enough, don't care whether this is better or worse, I'd rather find the beauty in what's in front of me. and oh, what's in front of me. the asphalt on I-64 when you exit at 14th street glitters in the sunlight. the stop sign at Lami, one street down from me, is crooked. the Flaming Lips still sing about love and death on the cd my brother mixed for me. and I still wonder what my ambitions for life are.
5:54 PM
|
|
|
|
|