Ramblings from the past: MoMA

In my iPod Touch, I've amassed an archive of random notes. I suppose it's what happens when I forget my favorite pen and notebook and didn't have anyone else to talk to at the moment. This note made me laugh.

...written March 23 of last year...

How a rotting piece of wood encased in glass can be a piece of art is beyond me, when no energy or thought was even put to it. Like an archaeological artifact out of context, this "artwork" to me means nothing. A driftwood picked up on a hike placed in a glass case suddenly worth thousands. Really?

...Also. Tehching Hsieh. Performance artist. Bigger masochist than David Blane. The things people want to freak the world with.

I run to

I run to...

Forget.
Think.
Clear my head.
Run away.
Talk to myself.
Hide.
Disappear.

...sometimes you just want to push the mute-button to the world and pause the noise for a bit.

under the rock

Hah. How fitting. Found this comic through a digi-art blog. Hi-larious.

Credits to the Oh Brother! comics website and artists.

Solitude in silence.

I miss those days of inspiration

and of the freedom to roam.

I miss those nights of melancoly

walks through the cypress corridor

in the hills of La Toscana.

The nights when the moon's beam

lit the way

and the toad's hiccup gave harmony to the cicadas.

The end of the cobbled bridge marked the entryway

to La Cascina

where barrels filled with vino lined the halls within

and promises of romance whispered sweet nothings from its walls.

I miss those days of inspiration

and my blissfully naive ignorance of the world.

@}-->---

8.12.2010

The Swell Season and Low Anthem

The Swell Season live from Prospect Park, BK.

The Set List:
Low Rising
In These Arms
The Rain
Lies -- broken guitar string--
If You Want Me
Fantasy Man
Leave
Backbroke
Into the Mystic
I Have Loved You Wrong
Revelate
Minds Made Up
Falling Slowly
----
Encore:
Marketa's new song
Gold
High Hope
High Horses

Use the truth as a weapon to beat up all your friends  Every chink in the armor An excuse to cause offense  And the boys from the hallway calling out your name  And true love will find them in the end  
You were restless I was somewhere less secure  So I went running to the road  And so now there's a long list of places I was  I quit my rambling and came home 
Cause maybe I was born to hold you in these arms  Maybe I was born to hold you in these arms   
Use your saints and your mantra  And your things to keep you calm  If you stay with that asshole  he's gonna do you harm  There's a voice singing loudly on the radio just for you  And good fortune will find him in the end  
Maybe I was born to hold you in these arms  Maybe I was born to hold you in these arms   Maybe I was born to hold you in these arms  Maybe I was born to hold you in these arms 

let go of my hand, you've already gone

Glen Hansard of The Swell Seasons/The Frames. A man with a penchant for wrenchingly passionate melodies. At the recent concert in Prospect Park with Marketa Irglova, he broke through 5 strings, one of which was during this song and as his stage hand switched guitars, he continued belting out this haunting melody with such angst and so much passion... the man needed no microphone that evening.

What a night. What a performer.

I can't wait forever is all that you said
Before you stood up
And you won't disappoint me
I can do that myself
But I'm glad that you've come
Now if you don't mind

Leave, leave,
And free yourself at the same time
Leave, leave,
I don't understand, you've already gone

And I hope you feel better
Now that it's out
What took you so long
And the truth has a habit
Of falling out of your mouth
But now that it's come
If you don't mind

Leave, leave,
And please yourself at the same time
Leave, leave,
Let go of my hand
You said what you have to now
Leave, leave,
Let go of my hand
You said what you came to now
Leave, leave,
Leave, leave,
Let go of my hand
You said what you have to now
Leave, leave

gold-digging bear!

Who would leave an adorable little mouse for an ugly green frog?
This song reminds me so much of the film "500 Days of Summer".



there are worse ways for a guy to spend his time
than to sit and think of you
i think i'd marry you
just your smile
leaves me satisfied
though you're not mine

so for the rest of my life
i'm gonna search for someone just like you

and we tend the garden all day long
watching history unfold
and i'd be enough
and you'd be enough
and we'd grow old

so for the rest of my life
i'm gonna search for someone just like you

for the rest of my life
i'm gonna search for someone just like you

yeah, for the rest of my life
i'm gonna search for someone just like you
-Rilo Kiley, "For the rest of my life."