• Me And My Guitar

    5 fév. 2009, 8h29m

    Been practicing with my guitar, a lot. Like, all the time.

    Too much.

    I can half-ass my way through Portugal. The Man's Elephants and And I, the Eagles Hotel California, Starsailor's Talk Her Down, and Marcy Playground's One More Suicide.

    I keep thinking about recording myself playing like Shelley did.

    Which means, eventually, I'll give in.
  • Period.

    2 sept. 2008, 7h05m

    Portugal. The Man's new album, Censored Colors, leaked a while ago. Today, they sent out an e-mail to all their pre-orders with a download. Which is great; because, I had been too lazy to fire up Bittorrent up to this point.

    And I will sell this album.

    Meanwhile, I'm still noodling by way through Elephants...
  • Oh for the love of God.

    15 oct. 2007, 10h45m

    Autolux, get your Turnstile Blues out of my head.
  • Songs I remember from the '90s.

    12 jui. 2007, 4h33m

    Once, during road trip with my Grandmother, I whistled Come Undone as dusk fell on the Oregon coast.

    The ocean crashed against a jetty as I improvised.
  • Who stole the uprock, who stole the paint?

    28 mars 2007, 10h13m

    I'm standing in the back of a high school classroom I just crashed. The door is directly behind me. In front of me are rows of desks, filled with improbably bright-eyed students. To the left and right of me, surrounding the desks with their students and consuming the remaining space in the room, are dozens of uncomfortable twenty-somethings. It's standing room only with an opening in the front for a teacher to lecture. At the edge of that opening is a front-facing couch. Sitting on the couch are a few more college-age people. The overall mood is of a line for a new Harry Potter movie, just moments before the theatre staff open the doors.

    I'm being pushed and shoved by the mass of bodies in this increasingly hot room. This is distracting to the point that I missed the teacher's entrance. He's now talking, and I can't hear him! Waves of frustration pass through me, and my respect for the punctuality pecking order begins to wane. Pushing forward, I make my way through the rows of desks and hop over the back of the couch - landing on the lap of a girl. She pushes me off her. The others on the couch and her move to provide additional room. One of them just finished asking a question, but I didn't quite catch it.

    The teacher obviously is nearing the end of his thirties. His face has developed the first wrinkles of the variety easily mistaken for distinguishment. He speaks with authority, but adds a questioning tone that encourages his audience to express their own opinion. His lecturing style encourages critical questioning - I immediately like him. His overall dress and appearance is conservative and therefore not distracting. There is no aura of pretentiousness.

    He stops speaking and considers an unheard question. I watch him look around the packed classroom. He knows everyone is here because the topic of his lecture is provocative. His eyes twinkle has he opens his mouth, and delivers the following:
    Class, you either got it, or you don't.
    A few people nod their heads in agreement.
    You will either stand or you will fall.
    I still don't know what he's talking about. I'm frustrated and feel like this is starting to be a waste of my time.
    When your will is broken, when it slips from your hand...
    A suspicious urge causes me to quickly look around the classroom and pay attention to the students more closely. Everyone is smiling as if they know what he's talking about. Oddly, there is a current of increasing tension. Many are tapping their toes rapidly, others are looking tense, some are mouthing the words as the teacher speaks. A laughable worry floats through my head that this is a rant about the war.
    ... when there's no time for joking, there's a hole in the plan.
    Too late, it clicks in my head. The entire class breaks out in song!
    Oh you don't mean nothing at all to me
    No you don't mean nothing at all to me
    Do you got what it takes to set me free?
    Oh you could mean everything to me.

    The teacher jogs up and down the aisles. Students are laughing. The lecture has turned into a sing-along!
    I can't say - (someone repeats) say
    - that I'm not lost and at fault
    I can't say - (they do it again!) say
    - that I don't love the light and the dark
    I can't say that I don't know that I am alive
    And all of what I feel I could show
    You tonight - (the entire class sings) you tonight

    Oh you don't mean nothing at all to me -
    (The men all shout) hey!
    No you don't mean nothing at all to me -
    (The women all shout) hey!
    Do you got what it takes to set me free?
    Oh you could mean everything to me.

    I realize I'm dreaming, so I wake up.

    That's the last time I go to sleep with Say It Right on my playlist.
  • Bye bye, temporarily.

    9 jan. 2007, 11h27m

    Since my laptop's speaker jack has decided to suck it up, I am no longer scrobbling.

    An iAudio 6 is en route. We'll see if I can hack up some sort of track counter...
  • An old memory.

    26 nov. 2006, 8h48m

    The name of that song was Another Day in Paradise.

    Patience paid off: over a decade later, I figure out the song.

    I had always figured it was an obscure Peter Gabriel track...