Jonsi - "Animal Arithmetic" (OFFICIAL VIDEO)
30.11.10
28.11.10
23.11.10
13.11.10
8.11.10
they're gonna eat you alive
On a still and silent day, she sat for hours to think. And she thought of the darkness and all of the light that had been in her life, and all that had been taken away. She thought about his hands, and his mouth and his laugh. And there was a brokenness to it all. She thought to herself in stillness and silence, 'It's been a while, but if I could tell him one thing. I'd say, "Careful not to fall into their mouths. Those wolves are all around."' Then she'd carry on with life, not realizing she's being eaten alive.
xx jan
fools
“Don’t let it fool you.” His breath smelled like old vanilla cigars.
The end of the show was near. The curtain closed and the magician was shut away from the curious audience awaiting the answers to all the questionable acts he had just performed.
Fin sat quietly, pensive, wholesome. She was oblivious to the reality of it all--the fact that there was no magic, but mere tricks.
The old man sat with his hand resting crookedly over his knotted wooden cane. A bright light appeared from the left side of the stage and a young woman dressed in sequins and feathers danced onto the center. In her hand she held a bell. She rang it three times. Suddenly the room fell completely silent. Not even a heartbeat was heard. The lights dimmed, and the drums slowly and quietly filled the theatre. They quickened. A thick, broody, heavy base drum grew louder and louder, as if it were a monster anxiously dawning it’s prey. A loud clang ending the drum beat and the magician appeared behind the audience, under the exit sign. He laughed, and the audience ‘Ooohed’ and ‘Aaahed’, then the room went completely black. A young child squealed with delight and in five seconds the lights flickered on in unison, and the magician was hanging from the chandelier above the stage. He was lowered slowly and gracefully in a harness, which followed with the traditional bowing and waving in great pride. The crowd cheered, rose to their feet in amazement and respect, and continued to applaud with great enthusiasm.
Fin left the theatre, her small hand in her grandfathers great big mit of a palm. He walked her to the corner of the street, fleeing the hustle and bustle of the end-of-show theatre doors. Fin’s mother awaited their arrival in their small car near the corner. Her name was Elouisa. Sweet, darling Elouisa, with a temper hot like the sun and the blues like the rain on a cloudy day. She leaned against the side of the vehicle, casually smoking a cigarette. Her lips finely painted red, her hair dark and messy, swooping over her eyes. Even to Fin, her mother was a great mystery. Without words, Fin’s grandfather stood before Elouisa.
Even though she was only small, naïve and really didn’t know much of life at all, Fin could see, and could feel the great tension between her mother and her grandfather. A long delicately memorized story that Elouisa kept inside her soul. It was deeply pressed against the surface of her entire life, her entire being. Fin’s innocent ears had never been acquainted with such family secrets. She only knew they were there.
Elouisa cupped Fin‘s shoulders and led her to the passenger seat. She ushered her in, as Fin glanced upward and met her grandfather‘s eyes. Mere tricks.
It was very late, and raining now; a cold, lonely drizzle. The street was busy with splashing, dashing cars, tall city towers lit up with reds and greens and blues. The neon lights were reflected all over the wet streets.
The car ride home was silent. Elouisa asked many questions, but Fin was lost in her own world--a world of sequins and feathers and drums and cigars. She fell asleep before they arrived home. Elouisa turned on the radio and listened to old blues. All the while it rained and rained and rained.
xx jan
The end of the show was near. The curtain closed and the magician was shut away from the curious audience awaiting the answers to all the questionable acts he had just performed.
Fin sat quietly, pensive, wholesome. She was oblivious to the reality of it all--the fact that there was no magic, but mere tricks.
The old man sat with his hand resting crookedly over his knotted wooden cane. A bright light appeared from the left side of the stage and a young woman dressed in sequins and feathers danced onto the center. In her hand she held a bell. She rang it three times. Suddenly the room fell completely silent. Not even a heartbeat was heard. The lights dimmed, and the drums slowly and quietly filled the theatre. They quickened. A thick, broody, heavy base drum grew louder and louder, as if it were a monster anxiously dawning it’s prey. A loud clang ending the drum beat and the magician appeared behind the audience, under the exit sign. He laughed, and the audience ‘Ooohed’ and ‘Aaahed’, then the room went completely black. A young child squealed with delight and in five seconds the lights flickered on in unison, and the magician was hanging from the chandelier above the stage. He was lowered slowly and gracefully in a harness, which followed with the traditional bowing and waving in great pride. The crowd cheered, rose to their feet in amazement and respect, and continued to applaud with great enthusiasm.
Fin left the theatre, her small hand in her grandfathers great big mit of a palm. He walked her to the corner of the street, fleeing the hustle and bustle of the end-of-show theatre doors. Fin’s mother awaited their arrival in their small car near the corner. Her name was Elouisa. Sweet, darling Elouisa, with a temper hot like the sun and the blues like the rain on a cloudy day. She leaned against the side of the vehicle, casually smoking a cigarette. Her lips finely painted red, her hair dark and messy, swooping over her eyes. Even to Fin, her mother was a great mystery. Without words, Fin’s grandfather stood before Elouisa.
Even though she was only small, naïve and really didn’t know much of life at all, Fin could see, and could feel the great tension between her mother and her grandfather. A long delicately memorized story that Elouisa kept inside her soul. It was deeply pressed against the surface of her entire life, her entire being. Fin’s innocent ears had never been acquainted with such family secrets. She only knew they were there.
Elouisa cupped Fin‘s shoulders and led her to the passenger seat. She ushered her in, as Fin glanced upward and met her grandfather‘s eyes. Mere tricks.
It was very late, and raining now; a cold, lonely drizzle. The street was busy with splashing, dashing cars, tall city towers lit up with reds and greens and blues. The neon lights were reflected all over the wet streets.
The car ride home was silent. Elouisa asked many questions, but Fin was lost in her own world--a world of sequins and feathers and drums and cigars. She fell asleep before they arrived home. Elouisa turned on the radio and listened to old blues. All the while it rained and rained and rained.
xx jan
7.11.10
head east
A few years back, I read East of Eden by John Steinbeck. Sincerely, this is one of the best books I have ever experienced. It was given to me as a birthday gift years ago by my brother in law Tom. It's been sitting on my shelf since the last time I read it, and I spotted it last week. I remembered the amazing tale that it was and the journey of taste and smell and the best of humanity's rawness... so I picked it up and started it again.
Steinbeck has a knack for knowing my thoughts and wording them for me. The past month has been very strange for me. I've been developing this URGE to just feel things, to understand things, to come face to face with every emotion and just be in it. I want to be free, and content, and I want to find glory in the smallest sounds, the lightest touch, the faintest scent. I want to breathe air and let it sink into my lungs so deep. I want to dance around and be free forever.
"A man may have lived all of his life in the gray, and the land and trees of him dark and somber. The events, the important ones, may have trooped by faceless and pale. And then—the glory—so that a cricket song
sweetens his ears, the smell of the earth rises chanting to his nose, and dappling light under a tree blesses his eyes.... And I guess a man’s importance in the world can be measured by the quantity and number of his glories." - J. Steinbeck, East of Eden (130)
xx
Steinbeck has a knack for knowing my thoughts and wording them for me. The past month has been very strange for me. I've been developing this URGE to just feel things, to understand things, to come face to face with every emotion and just be in it. I want to be free, and content, and I want to find glory in the smallest sounds, the lightest touch, the faintest scent. I want to breathe air and let it sink into my lungs so deep. I want to dance around and be free forever.
"A man may have lived all of his life in the gray, and the land and trees of him dark and somber. The events, the important ones, may have trooped by faceless and pale. And then—the glory—so that a cricket song
sweetens his ears, the smell of the earth rises chanting to his nose, and dappling light under a tree blesses his eyes.... And I guess a man’s importance in the world can be measured by the quantity and number of his glories." - J. Steinbeck, East of Eden (130)
xx
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