choooons. [bright side of 2009 or the chords of sanity]

i made a list. and checked it twice (er a couple times, anyway.) and here's my list of favourites of the year. a countdown, if you will... including throwback tunes, an album i missed from last year, favourites of 2009, and my top 5 of the year.

let's begin with one of the bands i'm most excited to hear more from:

exlovers

throw back release of the year that pretty much took up the bulk of the listening space in my head...

the beatles
allll of them. in stereo. epic. epic. win.

lots of wings. lots of mccartney. aka. ultimate dreamboat.

including a show moment of a lifetime which involved guestpasses to see mccartney, courtesy of matthew jones. (alright darling? yes.bruv.)

other obsessive throwback to classic album listening includes -

the kinks

and zeppelin.

the album from last year that slipped under my radar, which i have been unbelievably obsessed with would be
the kills - midnight boom.


and now on to my top albums of 2009...

boxer rebellion - union.

peter doherty - grace/wastelands
(i believe this is an apt description of the year as a whole)
one of my all time fave pete photos
by one of my favourite boys on EARTH, guy eppel

miike snow

local natives - gorilla manor
(us release comin soon.)


wild beasts - two dancers.
i still don't fully understand the obsession with this album. but listen again and again, i must.


jamie t - kings and queens


jack penate - everything is new
(soooo yummy.)


and all together now -
phoenix - wolfgang amadeus phoenix.


animal collective - merriweather post pavillion
(the real one is not far from me - random fact.)

grizzly bear - veckatimest


band of skulls - baby darling dollface honey
(album title of the year, AND most surprisingly AMAZING album as a whole... just out of no where. o.b.s.e.s.s.e.d)


franz ferdinand -tonight: franz ferdinand
ulysses single cover - guy eppel.


Florence & the Machine - Two Lungs
photo by the fantastic mister foxley...aka tom oxley (...m.i.a)


arctic monkeys -humbug

(humbug - one of my favourite words in the english language)
and i loved this album. photo: oxley.


yeah yeah yeahs - it's blitz

and so is this glorious photo by mister eppel. win. win. win.


and my top 5 albums of 2009... (drumroll please.)

5.) Doves - Kingdom of Rust

*sigh*


4.) Jay-Z - Blueprint III.


3.) Bombay Bicycle Club - I had the Blues but I shook them Loose


2.) Kasabian - West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum

um. pure.love.
also. 2nd favourite gig of the year. yesssssssssssss.

and number one... obviously.

The Maccabees - Wall of Arms

this album was like a breathing machine for me, keeping my broken heart alive again and again.

i love it.

i'm fond of those boys.

and if you don't have this album, well...

you.are.missing.out.

here's to 2010.
love.

dearest american love.

Brown eyed lover born in spring
Running to the edge of me
And the jaws of hell could not reach
No the jaws of hell could not reach
Morning called his arms round me
And lulled his tired eyes to sleep
And the chill could no longer reach
The chill could no longer reach

He sang
Oh my dearest american love
You’re home, you’re home with me
Oh my dearest american love
You’re home, you’re home with me

The afternoon burst into flames
And he whispered courage to her veins
And their judging hands could not reach
And their judging hands could not reach
He stood upon the London street
And disclosed the tears to my shuffling feet
And their prying eyes could not reach
Their prying eyes could not reach

He sang
Oh my dearest american love
You’re home, you’re home with me
Oh my dearest american love
You’re home, you’re home with me

I’ll forgive the cruelest days
When foolish pride drew you away
When all my pleas couldn’t reach
When all my pleas couldn’t reach
I'll take you back into my arms
Silence all the false alarms
That say it's out of reach
I am not out of reach.

He sang
Oh my dearest american love
Come home, come home to me
Oh my dearest american love
Come home, come home to me

let there be love.

"come on baby blue, shake up your tired eyes the world is waiting for you. may all your dreaming fill the empty skies"

sketched.

i think she needs a pen.
i think she's right on track
he's got a fast car.
and she needs to get away.
they're not afraid to crash.
it happened all year long.
pathways to the moon
rockets to the sea
and oceans inbetween
mocked.
they'll mock them.
from the background painted credits with gasoline need.
horses hooves to engines.
i think she needs a pen to roar.
he thinks he needs the cash to.
but mostly just belief to.
beside herself with grief.
beside her he's undone.
all these preconceived notions have withered
so sit beside her.
sit and wait gently, defiant son.
listen and talk straight
to see her soul
to see her face
unveiled beneath the golden sun.
your darling, then.
she'll stand.
burn the maps.
draw the maps.
and then, with pens.
take hands.
and run.

strange times.

there is no tree.
virtually no christmas decorations.
no lights.
no stockings... i mean, except the ones i bought from urban outfitters.
(did we convert to judaism and i missed it?)
yet for the first time in years, i've actually mailed out christmas cards... and on time. i've christmas shopped, and i've turned into a christmas-cheer-spreading little elf this year.

someday i'd like to have some warm cozy lovely christmas with the family and friends and all the trimmings.
in the meantime, i'm content with this.

merry christmas!
and God bless us, everyone.

just keep tellin me things things...

i loathe that i find him attractive.
the platinum hair keeps it under control.
but if he went brown? God help me.

in other news.
blacrok.
so far. so good.
well, a couple of them are alright. the rest... heard it all before. bleh.
however the black keys/mos def/q-tip bits are ridiculous! hoooray!

stars so close you could reach up and kiss them.

The ladies cackle and suspect and drop household names in conversation as though they know them well. But, they know nothing about the people behind these names. I disengage in the gossip, distracted with my own preoccupations. Some tweet which leads to some photo on some webpage… and in my mouth is the first taste of something else. In the background sits a sofa. And I feel rather foolish as, honestly I care less for the subject than I do for the sofa on which my mind will rest itself for a moment, alight, and take me on a pilgrimage to the past. Another lingering moment later, and I’ll admit that I still cherish the eyes that captured it and let a sigh escape me, unaware of myself. I was the apple of those eyes. Warm, intense brown eyes that searched the inviting room behind open windows. Eyes that would see what I still cannot.
And sometimes my memory serves me that sweet injustice of calling you back… of bringing me back… bringing us back. I wonder if you remember my arms, languid with wine and draped upon the invisible shoulders of the night. Without a word, I beckoned your frame back to hold them up instead. You obliged with kisses. The ones my mouth won’t forget. The ones new lovers share. Impatient and yet, savoured to tide us over until we could disappear again. I gave thanks with reciprocity before the cold crept in to swell and crack the intimacy. before the fear laid siege to your heart... only after I felt it beat in my own chest. The first beats, sure to become my favourite song. A song I try to forget. Crescendo. Silence.

"My God, I'm fond of you."

It sounds so hollow now and echoes in the vacant hallways where the roots of you were beginning to dig deep, down the paths beneath my skin.
It’s here a memorial stands and crushes the words of some boy who once said, "forget him."
It's here I remember.
It's here that I miss you.
And without bitterness or loss of affection, I hate it.

good news. bad news.

rest in peace, beautiful brittany...

good news...
ratm = #1 christmas.
i dont have anything in particular against x-factor...exactly. i
think the reason this is so exciting... the deeper thing happening, is that a bunch of people got together to make something happen. to change something. i was just talking to my manager about that... about how corrupt the governments are. but the real issues are things we can do in spite of the government. we, as a people, without borders, without needing a bill passed in congress, without the house of parliament... we the people, as citizens of the earth, can change something if we want to. if an old rage against the machine song can top the charts over x-factor, what else can we accomplish??

p.s. my neighbour is snow-blowing us out. the state won't plow our street, as it's private, and no one else has come to do it yet.
i'm learning a deep lesson today about the goodness of people. still.

take that grinchy.

think. thank. thunk.

mom spent the night last night. slumber party. woot!
we got up early this morning, because she's one of those manditory employees at the hospital. we got things going rather well, but when it came to getting back to the worn path, well...it was a bit tough.
so a bunch of men in the neighbourhood helped my mom get her truck... unstuck.
then, my neighbour and i dug paths from our houses to the cars.
a guy down the street offered to help me... twice. and also offered me coffee.
what is this the twilight zone?
i like it though.
however, i'm very close to calling 911.
because that man has stirred my need for a white mocha.
i need starbucks.
i can't drive (they haven't plowed yet...) and i need it.
i'm developing cabin fever big style, and not a soul is on chat.

martha, my dear...

what is this?!?!

• remembrance week for ____________? i dont need to have fond memories right now. i'm tired of that place being sore. i'm...just bein' honest. i hate when things aren't resolved. i hate losing friends. moreover, i hate losing people you care about for no good reason. if he could hear me, i'd shout, "listen, fool, i effing miss you. i miss you a lot, now get over your weirdness and let's go back to the start! this is beyond stupid and ridiculous and wank."
• i hate knowing that nothing you say or do will change how a situation is.
• overdraft fun. 2 weeks of cutting it close.
  (thankfully christmas shopping is complete. just need to ship some packages and mail some cards.)
• more tears last night.
• and i still can't even talk about my family. ugh.
• i'm grinched in hipster glasses and a victoria's secret santa hat.

so let's calm down and change the subject.
or just watch this instead:

bottle up and...

Waylaid
he scans his watches
so intrepid with his want and need
Unpaid
Carve out the notches
telling stories of the darling greed
Closer
And so dramatic
In his way of stating mundane things
Hold her
It’s automatic
Fall down at your shrine of printed queens

Oh use caution
When these explosions of trust go off
Oh take care when
We refuse to just stop.
It’s enough.
Is it not?

Scraping
Beneath disaster
Pages bound to tell us what it means
Wanting
An explanation
None arrives so hide the wound that bleeds
Sinking
Into our bloodstream
All of it in ink beneath our skin
Gaping
The mouth of vengeance
Bitterness will bite til it forgives

Oh use caution
When these explosions of trust go off
Oh take care when
We refuse to just stop.
It’s enough.
Is it not?

up up and away!

i am a rocket. you are an anchor down.

want.

stella mccartney. again. again. again.

rizzo.the.rat.

was in a box on my bed when i got home yesterday.

courtesy of andy.
sweet boy.

t i n h e a d

i've said it before. and i'll say it again.
i love his work.

i mean, the boy isn't too bad either.

just sayin.
t i n h e a d .

local native thanksgiving.

i think i'm most susceptible to doing stupid things when i'm required to wait. i mean, i could do something productive like practice music, write a song, read a book, put in some overtime, call a friend, write an email or better yet a letter... on paper... and actually mail it..., renew my passport (dangit.), go for a run, watch that holiday boxset of charlie brown dvds!
or i could do something stupid, like become really self-absorbed and over-analyse life unnecessarily, scan myself over for flaws and then nit-pick at them for hours at a time, until i find myself shopping to make myself look/feel better and freak out about things i can and cannot change when the changing room lights are unforgiving. and the things that can be changed, i'll embark upon conquering by force which usually results in more harm than good... and the things that can't be changed, i'll build a sess-pool of self-pity in the foundations of endless comparisons to this or that person and wallow there in my self-imposed and self-magnified pity for ages and ages.
i started walking down this ridiculous road again.
and let the unexplained actions of others define who i think i am.
and took off the gloves, and put on the rings and started wailing on myself.
but, this isn't a boxing ring or a dungeon. it's a waiting room.

so, last night i tucked myself in bed, and could just feel him scoop me up. i could hear the truth loud and clear in the form of a whisper i can't ignore.

fact is, things are getting really exciting around here. and in the midst of this crippling heartache and fear lurking to choke out courageous heartbeats... i'm still singing.
and the fact is that even though it can certainly feel awful lonely... i'm most certainly far from alone.

i have the most beautiful people in my life.
and i don't need them to be perfect.
i don't need them to fill me.
because neither of those things will ever happen in this lifetime.
but in the words of oasis -
"we need each other. we believe in one another. and i know we're gonna uncover what's sleeping in our souls"

i'm thankful for texts and emails throughout the day that make me laugh, that challenge me, and make me think, or make me smile... i'm thankful for friends who share their hearts with me, just because. i'm thankful for words of encouragement. i'm thankful for random acts of kindness like handing over a local natives album, just because. i'm thankful for 2 amazing managers who are some of the sweetest guys you'll ever meet, and they get the crap done. i'm thankful for a family who is well acquainted with sorrow which has made its arms strong for holding and hearts enlarged for a love bigger than each of us in it. i'm thankful for a God who lets me look him full in the face and say "i dont understand anything about you." who allows me to room to boldly question and doubt him, and still holds me and surrounds me with a love of depths and heights i cannot fathom.

nothing has changed really.
i'm still in the waiting room.
but my heart is bursting with thanks.
and that changes everything.

on fire.

maybe the gig went rather well.

maybe my managers are sweet sweet sweet people.

maybe after hanging out with favourite friends from london aaaand nashville...

maybe i took clive and went to an invite-only myspace music launch party.

and maybe i saw kasabian in a 1500 capacity venue which wasn't full...

maybe i was quite close to the front.

and maybe tonight was a highlight of the year.

maybe?

definitely.

last night.

i felt like a ragdoll.

being pulled by two people.

note to self: do not drink liquor after wine.

my tummy hates that a lot.

yesterday... i had my first real turkish meal. soooo soooo nice.

and i played my first bosendorfer piano.

good heavens, that was a wonderful experience. and it may be the only thing i like better than a yamaha. thankfully bosendorfer is a subsidiary of yamaha. i don't feel so badly about it.

off to meeting.land

liverpool vs. chelsea

to be or not to be.

i liked today a whole lot.

went on a day trip to liverpool with the manager to go meet with ken nelson. we got there early to beat the game traffic...and have a sunday roast (y.u.m.) and watch the game. liverpool/everton. 2 - nil. WIN.

however, i'm still in the last stages of choosing my allegiance. choosing the british premier league team which shall have my hand and my heart forevermore.

liverpool? or chelsea?

london? or liverpool?

after watching the game in a pub whilst eating glorious food, we headed in the absolute freeeezing cold to parr street studios. sat down with pz and had a cuppa tea. which were actually cups, and individual tea pots and, of course, sugar cubes.

ken arrived, and i like him. i like him a whole lot. and now comes the sorting of details... *sigh* so i shall wait to let the cat out of the bag. but i'm very excited indeed.

played a yamaha piano. and we all just talked about music and how it moves you...

and about the first time i heard the parachutes album.

and how moments like that, when you realise you're doing something good, make you understand you're doing music for the right reasons.

we, then headed back to london, which took far longer than the trip up. we listened to awful music on radio 1. talked about political things... and i liked just listening to another perspective.

i am all cozy in the flat, and my favourite boys are gone. but messages have kept me company... and i'm very sleepy indeed.

i really want to read my book, but i'm not so sure sherlock holmes is a good thing before bed.

the mind reels.

tut tut. feels like home.

it's beginning to look a lot like christmas...

i was just walking down holloway road, and there were christmas lights in the trees. the sun had just gone down, and there was this sweet little glow over everything. and children everywhere were just bouncing along, singing or excitedly talking about christmas. and in the cold, it felt festive for the first time in a really long time.

last night, i laughed more than i've laughed in absolutely ages. my face hurt something fierce! clive, andy, lewis and i went out for a drink at a pub in camden. i was formally introduced to sailor jerry. oh sweet lord. from now on, brandy alexander is my main squeeze, and sailor jerry is my boy on the side. hahahaha. right. so, from there we headed to this funk/soul/jazz club night. and the first band, albeit good...were a bit rigid. lacking the soul factor, i think. but we danced anyway and all sorts of mischief making took place in the back of the club. their set was done, and this guy resembling Fat Joe, came on stage with his bass guitar in a G-unit top. andy and i quickly agreed that this was either about to be really really good, or really really bad. the drummer, this really young looking white boy sits down to the kit, and we just knew. sure enough, he was amazing. actually the whole band was amazing. i couldn't HELP but move. i found myself squealing in the same sort of way i do when i heard jamie cullum frontin' for the first time. or when i saw gabe dixon nashville.

amaaaaaazing. from there, we went to a bowling alley with a dancefloor and 50s & 60s music. glory be. such fun.

the evening ended on the couch, with cuddles and work stories, travel stories and shark stories making me laugh til i nearly pee'd my pants.

perfect.

black friday.

happy belated thanksgiving, loves!

i am thankful for my friends. because i have some beautiful ones.

and i am bursting with thanks for my family.

i had thanksgiving lunch with my grandma yesterday...and dinner was on a virgin atlantic flight.

on top of everything else, it seems i've made a clean sweep of all of those relationships with a "pending" status. and i am pretty sure they're all over. it was incredibly hard to do, but sometimes you just have to stand up for yourself. sometimes that's by quietly getting up and walking out and closing the door behind you. sometimes, that's by sitting down and clearly getting things off of your chest, and as lovingly as possible saying... this can't happen anymore.

nevertheless.

i'm calm. but a little achey.

i'm tired. a little sad.

but a little hopeful.

and still thankful.

this morning, i landed in london with a headache and bleary eyes. and got in the cab to head to clive's and found myself getting more and more nauseated by the second. so i quickly emptied my little urban outfitters free tote that came with a magazine just in case i had to get reacquainted with dinner. awful. thankfully, at that precise moment, the cab driver decided to open the window for a bit. and everything calmed down.

arrived at clive & matt's and have spent the morning thus far, drinking delicious pressed coffee, listening to nme radio and being all internety.

and now, it's time to go make some stories.

taking the cure so i can be quiet whenever i want...

the maccabees are my warm blanket.
radiohead is a lullabye singing my heart to sleep.

kasabian paints my face with gold...
and i'm dancin around like a brave little princess.

and the beatles make me feel like...
well, a bit more like myself.
a grand little mixture of all these things.

one day at a time.
one song at a time.

hope sang in the middle of the night.

I gave away my kisses
And a golden heart
No sooner than I gave it
He’d torn it apart
No reciprocity
No closure to be had
I never knew that I could
Ever feel so bad

When the walls come crashing down
Lifted from the ground
Their arms are all around
Hold tight we’ll soon be found

I lost the one I wanted
Again again again
Once the talks of love and laughter
Now, "lets just be friends"
I held him oh so close
And now it’s lost at sea
Try to escape tonight
and sing oh lonesome me

When the walls come crashing down
Lifted from the ground
Their arms are all around
Hold tight we’ll soon be found

We never saw it coming
There weren’t any signs
All of our hearts exploded
And she lost her mind
A thousand sorries will not heal
Our sinking ship
Sometimes you have to choose
To love when you don’t feel it

When the walls come crashing down
Lifted from the ground
Their arms are all around
Hold tight we’ll soon be found

I wonder if it ever stops hurting
I wonder is it ever enough
I wonder if I’ll really stop loving
I wonder if I can just give up
Black eyed but hopeful I wandered
Over continents and hundreds of lakes
But it always seems there’s somebody better
And I lose right when I’ve raised the stakes

But we hold on
Til the storm is over
And though it seems so long
It won’t last forever

I wonder if the moon is still reaching
Or if I’m building paper rockets and planes
I wonder if the music I’m hearing could
Swallow me up and rescue me from the pain
So I knocked on the door of the author
Of the story that I’m told I am in
I’m just wonderin if it really gets better
Or is there just another really bad end

And he said, hold on
Til the storm is over
And though it seems so long
It won’t last forever
Hold on
We are gonna get over
And it seems so wrong
But it’s getting better

one last little thing.

i'm sorry if this hurts.
(ok no i'm not, really.)
i'm sorry if this offends.
(yes, really.)

but stay the f*** away from my heart.

something good.

Out to play
In a tidal wave
The world came down
In just one day
Holding on to
A busted ship
We can get through all of this

Make something
Make something
Good of this
Tell me something
Tell me true
That it won’t stay like this

Took a bath
In the setting sun
They warned a hurricane
Was gonna come
And I screamed all night
At the blacked out stars
And I begged to know
Just who you are

Make something
Make something
Good of this
Tell me something
Tell me true
That it won’t stay like this

We just sat there
Wringing our hands
Looking at the ashes
Of all our plans
And I need that spirit
that makes it all new
and I’m doubting it all
but I still need you

Make something
Make something
Good of this
Tell me something
Tell me true
That it won’t stay like this

natalie portman.

good heavens. she is unbelievably gorgeous.

well i got something to say, my friends. i will never lay down without a fight.

i've been reading Donald Miller's "A million Miles in a Thousand Years". and i mostly feel like i'm looking in a mirror. or reading about myself. reading about my family...

"Robert McKee put down his coffee cup and leaned onto the podium. He put his hand on his forehead and wiped back his gray hair. He said, "You have to take your character to the place where he just can't take it anymore." He looked at us with a tenderness we hadn't seen in him before. "You've been there haven't you? You've been out on the ledge. The marriage is over now; the dream is over now; nothing good can come from this."
He got louder. "Writing a story isn't about making your peaceful fantasties come true. The whole point of the story is the character arc. You didn't think joy could change a person, did you? Joy is what you feel when the conflict is over. But it's conflict that changes a person."
His voice was like thunder now. "You put your characters through hell. You put them through hell. That's the only way we change."

a couple of pages later:

"...I wasn't numb anymore. I was allowed to feel the brunt of it. The bones penetrated my chest in a sudden rip, emptying a body of blood down my shirt and onto my lap. The blood pooled in the lap of my pants and seeped into the carpet in my hotel room. I clasped my hand over my heart and knelt between the bed and the television and rolled onto the floor and cried out to God a lamenting demand that he would come and save me from the sorrow that, for the immensity of it, I could only attribute to him in the first place. I didn't want to learn whatever it was he wanted to teach me. I cried out to him an angry petititon for rescue. I doubted him and needed him at the same time. God seemed to me, in that moment, a cruel father burning a scar into my skin with his cigarette. And yet I knew he was the only one with the power to make the pain go away."

i understand nothing in this moment.
my heart feels like it's in a coma.
and further, if there was any hope left for love in the romantic sense, i assure you it's dead.
my trust has been shot down within inches of obliteration.
so, good luck with that.
and i hate this year with a passion i can't even begin to express.
i'm tired of being strong.

all at sea.

my heart is broken and seized by icy oceans of fear.
i'm helpless to fix anything.
my well-meaning hands feel useless.

i may shut down now.

when are you coming back?

"i need an eraser."
fumbling around behind curtains i don't care to open.
wouldn't matter, because here comes the fever.
here comes the illness.
the weak sinking into the hollowed hole.
everything goes dark.
clouds of doubt looming to block out the stars.
turn the lights on, please?
or rock me to sleep.
these are my twisted words.
really, yours quite misused.
and yours are lullabies.
and i can't find it...
i can't forget it...
i can't leave it...
"now, hush anxious one," he said
"it fades slow.
it erases, i'm sure.
you'll remember, but soon forget.
it goes.
it surely dies.
now, hush."
and just above a whisper, sang to my constricted muscles...
sang to my heavy heart
sang to my weary lungs
sang to my swollen eyes
sang to the wounds and dressed them with every syllable.
"rest, my love.
rest, now.
sleep comes.
goodnight.
goodnight.
goodnight."

so what if i don't feel it?

what a wonderful weekend.
super busy. very productive.
and beautiful time spent with some of my best friends and favourite sweet hearts.

can i just say, i dont want to go back to feeling lonely.
and i'm real sick of distance getting in the way of almost every blasted good thing that blooms in my world.

cabin fever. [ode to madame fear.]

do you ever look madame fear in the eye and say, "oh no you don't!"
and then, the next thing you know, everything looks like it's about to start crashing in again?
and you think to yourself, " way to go genius! now, why the devil did i feel it necessary to look that wench in the eye and start something? because now, i've bitten off more than maybe i can chew, and i'll be proved wrong. fail!"

or maybe fear is just a genius at painting optical illusions...the ones that say you're going to fail and that all your dreams are never coming true and your hopes are just targets waiting to be dashed from your hands.

and i assure you being stuck in bed for days does nothing but help you to see these illusions more clearly.

because maybe the finances will be just fine after all.
and maybe i need to take my hand away. the one about to push the detinator on something that's really lovely. and maybe i need to just be patient and a little more thoughtful when it comes to these things.
and maybe fear just keeps you down on the floor and turns you into a dogged coward.
and maybe hope isn't held in my hands but written on my heart.
and just maybe i'm not sorry for standing up to these fears and saying,

"i'm scared as hell of you. but i'm not stopping. i am not alone. i will not stop moving."

left. right.

everyone is falling like autumn leaves.
falling in love, i mean.
it's beautiful, watching all of them from here...
flaming hearts setting the whole place ablaze.
and why can't we?

oh yes. i remember. but could we just forget?

if you're feeling what i'm feeling c'mon. all you soul searchin' people c'mon.

i keep telling myself to write something different here. to be a bit more ambiguous. to be a bit more lighthearted... but i can't help it. this is an invisible ear for telling secrets in my own muddled way... for singing secret songs for the first time that only i can hear...

this afternoon i went to see 'a christmas carol'. and cried. well, it IS one of my favourite stories of all time. i've memorized so much of the dialogue, it's just ridiculous, really. i used to sit with the remote in my little blue chair in this very room, when i was 2 years old and watch it. fast forwarding through the dumb commercials, stopping on the barbie and the rockers commercial, and rewinding it to start it all over again. anyway, it certainly isn't my favourite version of the story, but it moved me... and i was giddy in my 3-D glasses. so i'm not complaining.
afterward, dan and i went to kybecca, and started reminiscing childhood stories. school days. which led to highschool/post highschool stories...
and i found myself telling a story i realised i'd never told before.

i'm finding that these last couple of years have been full of these moments. deep hurts rising to the surface, because you thought you'd dealt with them. but no one can teach you how, especially if no one knows. because a lot of them are shrowded in this ridiculous sense of shame. and it isn't until you look back at something that happened 10 years ago, that you realise you've been blaming yourself and taking it out on yourself for 10 years... only because you just didn't know better. you didn't know it wasn't your fault.

yesterday i read something a friend wrote...
"I am ready to fail, and fail LOUDLY, paving my way into a wiser, stronger, humbler tomorrow."
speechless.
"there is no fear in love"

on my way home tonight i saw 7 deer just wandering around in a quiet neighborhood. i'm not sure why this makes me feel better, but it always does. it's just beautiful.

you got to go straight ahead.

"the opposite of love isn't hate... it's fear."

this has been slow dripping into my heart like some kind of IV.
something's healing.
something's changing.
something so good is happening...
and it's nothing to do with anyone.
and everything to do with love himself.
and so somehow it has to do with everything and everyone.

does that even make sense?
it's dangerous. it's not safe.
but it's so so so good.

my heart's rearranging, it's love.

there's this frailty in the air. a rich fragility. these leaves floating through with magic like the songs in my lungs that keep filling up my chest with each inhale. i can't stop humming. i can't stop singing. it's absolutely enchanting. i'm walking along in some fog of reverie, and i dont quite understand. because the sadness is so deep i've lost the capacity to communicate it. and i mostly feel like a dog who never speaks but is trying to understand. there's so much i'd like to just say. just to be understood. but you are frightened by circumstance. you don't know of my close regard. you are wrapped up. you. you. you. you... all of you. so last night i crept toward the edge of this precipice and whispered your name. i looked at the time, down to the second. and stared at it, looking back at me. frozen in time. and i kept staring as though it would mean something. like some profound meaning would collide with consciousness and i'd snap out of this warbled dream.

there is comfort in the names you call me. there is comfort in closing the curtains. there is comfort in climbing into bed with the window wide open. in sipping the milky cup that calms this riot of thoughts. and if im quiet enough, i can hear the keys on the ring in your hand that unlock the floodgates. and in this flood there is freedom. but it is, still very much a flood.

in this same room when i was very small, i watched them cry and pretend to be fine. we all knew it really wasn't. and yet i somehow knew it would be. and i didn't want them to be sad or worried. and mostly i didn't want to leave. even then, this grand dreamer with this deep seated knowledge of angels hands in mine... being carried off into the dark night and looking it full in the face, focused on the stars and the moon against the ominous blackness. confident and unafraid in the midst of uncertainty. that innocent trust in full bloom. being very small and very brave in a very big very dark place with my red suitcase tight in my hand. hearing some unintelligible sound that announced the commencement of the war between peace and chaos. trust and anxiety. all taking it out deep in my skin.

we never change, do we?
i just want a constant. a steady. a place to feel safe.
i'm lost in everything that is so familiar.
and i just want to go home.
and i want to be found.
but i'm not very sure anyone is looking.

can you say vul.ner.uh.bull?

I said, “Hello Thursday.”
I would’ve said “good morning”, but little known fact is, I hate saying the words “good morning”. (that is, unless I’m singing that song from ‘Singin in the Rain’) Those two words put together to make the Ante Meridien greeting are my verbal avocado or smoked salmon. Nothing wrong with either. They taste just fine. But the texture…

Can’t.
and so it is, saying “good morning” feels like trying again to enjoy the taste of something that means well but feels awful. Hahaha.
Which brings me back to the beginning.

I said, “Hello Thursday.”
And she said, “It’s far too early to have been crying, don’t you think?”
But, try as I might, it seems I keep from crying as well as most infants. I swear the universe is out to get me because I was hell-bent on not crying for a couple of years. So, in my great attempts to keep the tear ducts from giving way to ‘dramatic girl-weepiness’, I’m slowly becoming a work-a-holic, keeping busy, keep writing/practising/running/moving and essentially, just altogether avoiding silence… the kind that came for a visit last night. You know, the kind you lay in bed crying to and end up taking the anti-anxiety medication, because you can hear everything pumping from your heart through your veins and back again…and it all sort of echoes a bit in your head. You hear absolutely everything except the phone going off, because it doesn’t. The sound of the TV next door is amplified. People walking outside, the cars on the highway you’ve forgotten are there… And best, you hear the sound of a breaking you swore you didn’t ever want to hear again. But there it is, right in the middle of you reiterating, “Fail. Fail. Fail.” And what’s worse is, there is no answer to the ‘why’. It just is. And so, if you’re anything like me, that’s not sufficient. So you replay everything over and over and over, trying to edit this tape and find the ‘why’. Sifting through clues, trying to understand. Trying to learn the lesson and figure out what you missed, so you can take the blame. The next thing you know, you’ve gone past the first stages of sleep and are having full-on R.E.M slideshows but you’re still.wide.awake. Who needs a scary movie?! Take a walk in my jilted mind. You can’t possibly sleep, though your bed is full of feathers, because of this awkward lump of a thing called rejection invading your space and keeping you awake. The same one who keeps dressing up like your new best friend…a blossoming friendship or a friendship restored or a relationship being brought back to life or going deeper…and sometimes even like a lover pursuing, romancing, adventuring, and moving in for a kiss that you think is real. I mean, fireworks and everything! (Seriously. Can I just say that fireworks are ace? I don’t care what anyone says. And they’ve actually happened once, and in the moment, you want to be all ‘this is velveeta cheese’, but you get over it in a quick second because, really it’s magic as sugarplum fairies dancing in children’s heads the night before a Victorian Christmas.) Right, so the kiss. Or whatever moment of intimacy happened and you’ve become vulnerable again. You let someone in. You’ve given a bit of your real self away like some priceless treasure to __fill.in.the.bank. friend.family.lover.etc.___ and you’ve meant it, and at this moment you really really care, and you don’t care how much it costs you. When suddenly you taste that horrid acidic low. Like a gorgeous piece of fruit that’s actually rotten. (if you’ve taken that bite, you know exactly the surprise letdown I mean.) And suddenly the lights come up and it’s all a ridiculous green screen. You’ve been duped again into playing a part with a ridiculously handsome imposter… And you hear this little giggle, and these arms squeeze tighter, the knife goes in and this voice sings this annoying song you’ve known forever… (like one of those stupid hits that made millions and no one ever understands why)… all to just make sure you haven’t forgotten: why on earth did you think this would be different? You’re a still a damned fool. You still mean nothing. You’re still not enough. You’re still beneath them. You’re still a novelty… and it always wears off.
[why is it so easy to believe lies? because i know better. but it feels so true.]
herein lies the struggle.
Usually the alarm clock goes off right around this time.
Cue tears.
I merged onto the highway… singing along to some Neil Young, (duuuude. I’m obsessed.) followed by some louder bluesy tunes that I could scream along to while floating on some tidal wave of guitar lushness.
And so I said, “Hello Thursday.”
And she said, “It’s far too early to have been crying, don’t you think?”
And I turned the music up a little louder, because I’m secretly hoping one day it will just swallow me whole.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cue Pandora's clever little hand pressing play on a song of hope...
so i'll "take this sad song and make it better."
sometimes it takes an hourly reminder that ALL of this WILL be made right.
now, miss pandora and i will dance to the kinks.
til hope floods my soul in the morning.

coat check.

epic want.

i am lonely but you can free me all in the way that you smile.

i'm pretty sure this is legal crack.

and i cannot put this book down.

i mean, i just had to google the image to feel better about the fact that it's still at home...
which actually made me wish i hadn't left it.

comes a time.

There are a few legendary singers that I’ve never really been into. Not that they aren’t wonderful… I’ve just never really ‘gotten it’ before. And there are moments when you try it again, and you find your taste buds have changed… and this whole new world has opened up.

This has begun to happen over the last 2 weeks with Neil Young.
Where have I been all my life!
Oh my what?!

I am also happy to say that I’ve reached the end of my rope.
Happy?
Yes.
Correct.
I’ve been trying too hard. I’ve been heaving around ridiculous weights I was never meant to carry.
(Anyone else noticed that playing God is the worst game EVER?)
Why?
I’m so busy trying to perfect this person so that you’ll love me… so that you'll approve of me, and just maybe I won't be so very lonely. And in this mad process, I’ve started to lose me... and become this 'image' and i'm not really sure who that is. Like I'm trying to make a new skin. No wonder I've gotten so uncomfortable.
ugh. this has become too much about me. and that's not even what love is.

And you know what? Whether I see it or not, and feel it or not... everything is going to be ok.
All of this will be made right.
All will be well.
ALL of it.

"we were right. we were giving. that's how we kept what we gave away"

echoes in the alleyway. footsteps in the hall. my love is comin' my way in this house full of mirrors.

little word of advice...
don't ignore your sleepy cold meds when they kick in. unless you want your body screaming at your brain to shut down... and having these half-delirium dreams that keep getting stuck.
i was listening to the beatles in my head. then little joy. then i got mad cos the song wouldn't change.
see. should NOT ignore the nyquil.
oh but, it won't end there.
you see, today i'm going out of my mind. my body's all limp and sleepy...and my brain is just screaming wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup!!!!!!!! in a way very similar to that of a 4 year old at 6am christmas morning.

so this doves song just came on. and it took me back to that time when things felt alright. when that boy made me laugh every day. and all my girls felt so close. and good things were just around the corner. and in the meantime i was just getting into the swing of the job. funny how a song can do that.

but it's today.
soak it up.

p.s.
i'm nervous about the weekend. i may be sick.

broken heart's hymnal. [page 20]

I loathe the distance between us two
Oceans of space that only makes us blue
Misunderstanding all these messages
Emotionless text to say just how it is
I heard the cracking of your inner core
Clear as the knocking on my own front door
Only tried to offer you a helping hand
Didn’t mean to drive us into a dead end

Please come back to me
Oh bring your sweet heart back to me

Sweet autumn morning turned to dullest night
I didn’t argue or put up a fight
Tried to turn my heart into a block of ice
But we know a cold coquettish girl’s not nice
Brown eyes reflect the brand new harvest moon
Begging for something good to find them soon
Broken hearts chorus in the sweet refrain
Asking their lovers to come back again

Singin’ Please come back to me
Oh bring your sweet heart back to me
…and make the sadness flee from me.
-------------------------------------------------------------
p.s. -
and the magic that happens when the seasons change guards... the dance that unfolds while they link their arms and falling leaves kiss jack frost... all that stopped with another act of senseless violence. and their hearts were robbed blind. and it all got cold.
(love to the lerose family.)

i'm walkin away from this before i hurt someone. [disclaimer.]

before I start, I'm warning you that what you're about to read will assuredly be honest and possibly offensive. So, if you'd rather not feel that way, then don't read any further.

I wonder when these things will stop hurting.
I wonder when curiosity will stop slaughtering the cat in my mind. She must have at least 900 lives.
I hate feeling like your heart has dropped out of your chest like elevator cords being broken. The walls of your chest suddenly start restricting in this pattern that feels like a heart beat, but it's not. It's all hollow spasm. Your face flushes and blood runs away. Skin pricks with an icy glaze that I'm sure wasn't there a few moments before.
It's always like this.
Also quite like giving away something of great meaning to someone, and they treat it much like a spoiled heiress would treat such a gift... eventually squandering or losing it. Or like you've given something precious to someone you trust with it... invested something in good faith. And you've found you've been made a fool of and your faith was unfounded.

In this world...
I know words are like pennies. Almost worthless... but some of us still find them on the ground and excitedly pick them up as though they were worth more.
I know bodies are things to use.
I know romance is a thing of the past.
I know so many people only care about themselves.
I know lies are accessories. Bullets to add to your resume in order to elbow your way up the ladder of success.
I know relationships are based on convenience and something you must earn.
Love is based upon contractual obligation. It can be made. Revised. And broken at any time.
I know this is 'the way of the world', and I'm old fashioned to care about such things.

Well, maybe I'm tired of conforming and feel like being rebellious.
Maybe I dont want to think or feel the way I'm supposed to.
Maybe I think people and their bodies have worth and value.
Maybe I believe romance is a present truth.
Maybe I know enough people who put others first.
Maybe I know enough people who get excited about the truth. Who seek out the truth. And because the hearts of those around them are worth much, they won't conceal the light of truth from them or anyone else.
Maybe I know true relationships (all. why is it people assume i always must be talking about boys and love-sickness?) aren't based on convenience, because frankly it's far more convenient to be alone.
Maybe I know love is the most free thing/person there is. And you can't distort it or twist it or put obligations on it. You cannot earn it. There are no conditions or terms. And it will break all of your rules. Every single time.

And at the very same time...

Maybe I'm tired of making excuses for crappy behaviour.
Maybe I'm tired of having my heart and trust broken.
Maybe I'm tired of being well-aquainted with sorrow.
Sometimes you catch a glimpse of the heart of God. The core of love.
And sometimes, like today, it makes me livid that we've not only missed it, but we're conditioned to keep missing it.
Maybe I still believe the 'God is love' thing is true.
Maybe I dont believe in much of what has become modern day 'christianity' which is why i find myself trying to disassociate myself from it.
Maybe it's not cool to be all 'i still love jesus'.
Maybe i dont really give a shit anymore what anyone thinks is cool.

I don't have some final practical answer.
And I am not content with 'oh that's just the way it is.'
I dont have some cool self-help technique to feel better.
And maybe the 'turn the other cheek' i've taken out of context, which has resulted in a face I'm finding unrecognisable.
(And maybe it's my own hand throwing punches sometimes.)
And maybe the advice "aw, f*** em" isn't really sound.
If joy isn't dependant on circumstance. Then why do we think sorrow would be?
Sure things are starting to move along with my musical aspirations.
But, damnit, I've been hurt a lot over the past 10 1/2 months, and maybe I'm just not ok.
Cos maybe I'm tired of the same people I care about screwing me over and taking advantage...
and maybe I just don't want to be used anymore.
And just maybe I'm tired of beating myself up. Blaming myself for everyone else's problems, and holding myself to some ridiculous standard of mental, physical, emotional and spiritual perfection. Which leads to nothing but anxiety over carrying weights I was never ever meant to carry.
Maybe it takes time to heal, and I need to just get better.
And I'm sick of false strength. And hiding how I really feel and writing sad songs that turn into angst that becomes some ridiculous mistrust of every human.
I need to sit myself down in the heart of God... where I'm welcomed anyway I come. With any words I bring. With any song I sing. Every emotion I've got. As long as it's honest.

Maybe that will be the most beautiful place to get lost.
And somehow i know it is.

fornasetti plates.

w.a.n.t.

"photographing cake can be art"

A good photograph is one that communicate a fact, touches the heart, leaves the viewer a changed person for having seen it. It is, in a word, effective. - Irving Penn

one of my most favourite images...

dear irving penn,

may you rest in the sweetest peace.