"i am a rock, i am an island... & a rock feels no pain; & an island never cries..."
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
i am a rock, i am an island
moments i'll remember forever: sharing onion rings with a stray dog at a tiny restaurant before walking out to kaimu to look at the smoke rolling off the mountain from the lava flow. hiking down pololu valley & swinging on the tire swing while the ocean roared behind me. driving through the rolling hills of waimea. snorkeling in the kapoho tidepools with the fish & eels & coral. & this enduring image i see clearly in my mind when i close my eyes: joe sitting on this huge rock at kolekole watching the waves rolls in. it reminded me of that old song:
Monday, August 23, 2010
i'm still here - a documentary?
"former" actor joaquin phoenix stunned everyone when he "quit" acting to pursue a career in music ... most surprising of all, a career in rap music.
this strange interview on letterman last year had everyone scratching their head.
this recently released trailer has me wondering if phoenix is for real or if he's performing in the role of a lifetime... if this isn't a documentary but instead a film based on some "alter ego", i'm hoping it doesn't leave everyone as confused as that letterman interview.
either way, i still think he deserved the oscar for his performance in walk the line. suck on that, philip seymour hoffman!
this strange interview on letterman last year had everyone scratching their head.
this recently released trailer has me wondering if phoenix is for real or if he's performing in the role of a lifetime... if this isn't a documentary but instead a film based on some "alter ego", i'm hoping it doesn't leave everyone as confused as that letterman interview.
either way, i still think he deserved the oscar for his performance in walk the line. suck on that, philip seymour hoffman!
Friday, August 20, 2010
the black keys
i wish i could say that i've been listening to this band for years but really i just discovered them last year. i was shocked to find out that it's 2 white guys from ohio playing the blues. their previous albums (especially the big come up ) sounded like they were recorded in a garage but there was something about it that just sounded right.
i've heard people say the new album, brothers, has been a departure from their garage rock/blues signature style, & that they have "sold out" with a polished studio sound. but really, i'm sick of hearing this about bands that have been around for years & suddenly have a major break through as this band did recently. they still make great music & that's all that should matter.
i've heard people say the new album, brothers, has been a departure from their garage rock/blues signature style, & that they have "sold out" with a polished studio sound. but really, i'm sick of hearing this about bands that have been around for years & suddenly have a major break through as this band did recently. they still make great music & that's all that should matter.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
the wild trapeze
it somehow slipped by me that brandon boyd (singer for incubus) was making a solo album. below is the song courage & control from the album the wild trapeze.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
our selves between us
"it takes devotion to make a mixed tape, & it's a dying art. sneaking off with someone's iPod & downloading songs on the sly is not quite the same thing, but i imagine that it's the wave of the future."
-excerpt from the essay our selves between us from the collection i love you more than you know by jonathan ames
Friday, July 2, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
summertime & the livin's easy
summertime seems to demand awe & respect.
as a little girl, summer was brown freckled shoulders, mosquito bites, bicycles on busted asphalt, drinking Kool-Aid out of mason jars, dandelions, & jelly shoes from K-Mart. i remember spinning around in our tiny yard with a sparkler, hearing this hiss of the sparks & the smell after it burned out. i remember the taste of salt from a mix of ocean & sweat. but mostly i remember every summer getting to travel to new lands (my imagination as a little girl turned a 2 hour road trip to the beach into a mythical kerouac-esque adventure).
as a teenager, summer became a love-battered season. i read paperbacks that i'd highlight passages in & quote in conversations. i listened to mix tapes/cds with friends before the sun came up. every summer had a soundtrack & every day was summed up in the confines of a notebook page - sometimes 3 or 4 pages - depending on the adventure of the day.
every day was brand new & exciting; a race to see//smell//taste//hear//feel every experience possible before the season was over. i could pretend to be 8 feet tall watching my shadow grow longer on sidewalks. i fell in love with people, places, books, & photos. i remember taking polaroids & tucking them in the pages of my journal, where i wrote conversations i had with people & described the places we roamed: mount helicon (before they turned it into a soap shop), & the condemned gym where we'd dance on the rotting basketball court that had floor to ceiling windows like some grunge ballroom.
i made airwaves out the car window & listened to bands i'd just discovered. i remember the long languid walks up steep steps to a hole in the wall record shop looking for vintage classic rock but never finding any worth buying.
most of all, summer was dreaming. it was imagining what life would be like when i was 'free' - when i was an adult. there was a hunger & determination to stay the same person: always awe-struck by the sublime, writing things i never wanted to forget in a square notebook, clicking the shutter to capture people & places i love(d)...
but there was always the dream - & thrill - of wondering who i'd become; where i'd be in 3 summers, 4 summers...
it's because of that teasing, enchanting spell of summer that i measure my life by the season & still celebrate the infinite.
-summer is remembrance.
as a little girl, summer was brown freckled shoulders, mosquito bites, bicycles on busted asphalt, drinking Kool-Aid out of mason jars, dandelions, & jelly shoes from K-Mart. i remember spinning around in our tiny yard with a sparkler, hearing this hiss of the sparks & the smell after it burned out. i remember the taste of salt from a mix of ocean & sweat. but mostly i remember every summer getting to travel to new lands (my imagination as a little girl turned a 2 hour road trip to the beach into a mythical kerouac-esque adventure).
as a teenager, summer became a love-battered season. i read paperbacks that i'd highlight passages in & quote in conversations. i listened to mix tapes/cds with friends before the sun came up. every summer had a soundtrack & every day was summed up in the confines of a notebook page - sometimes 3 or 4 pages - depending on the adventure of the day.
every day was brand new & exciting; a race to see//smell//taste//hear//feel every experience possible before the season was over. i could pretend to be 8 feet tall watching my shadow grow longer on sidewalks. i fell in love with people, places, books, & photos. i remember taking polaroids & tucking them in the pages of my journal, where i wrote conversations i had with people & described the places we roamed: mount helicon (before they turned it into a soap shop), & the condemned gym where we'd dance on the rotting basketball court that had floor to ceiling windows like some grunge ballroom.
i made airwaves out the car window & listened to bands i'd just discovered. i remember the long languid walks up steep steps to a hole in the wall record shop looking for vintage classic rock but never finding any worth buying.
most of all, summer was dreaming. it was imagining what life would be like when i was 'free' - when i was an adult. there was a hunger & determination to stay the same person: always awe-struck by the sublime, writing things i never wanted to forget in a square notebook, clicking the shutter to capture people & places i love(d)...
but there was always the dream - & thrill - of wondering who i'd become; where i'd be in 3 summers, 4 summers...
it's because of that teasing, enchanting spell of summer that i measure my life by the season & still celebrate the infinite.
-summer is remembrance.
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