it's always something before the late night

the most fun you could ever have is when you're getting to know a band.

bands are always an explosion of several chemistries. they're always more dynamic but easier to grasp than a single musician.

i always start off by listening to the debut album. the band may have 50 albums by the time i discover them but no worries: always start with the debut album. it's always a tasty combination of awkwardness and selling out. there's a desperation to put out a style so mostly songs are similar to one another--especially if you're rolling for a rock band. cause then they have to be upbeat and heated and have to show off their tough skin. clothes are mostly picked out by the band members early on, styles aren't perfected yet, there's always a youtful look and a freshness to everything the band does while they try make themselves look cool--desperately or subtle.

they always claim that they picked the label that allowed them most creative freedom which is as true as it gets in a debut album, not that it gets that true, ever, but debut album is when it's mostly at the top of its factuality--because they are already desperate for fame and glory anyways and able to make the wrong choices by themselves without the need of a hot shot executive hovering over them.

so debut albums have a danger of having 12 of the same song with usually one, at most two that breaks the lining. if a band is good, then mostly they're all good. if a band is all right, they're mostly good. if a band's weak, it's just a stepping stone, unworthy of a second play.

for the good bands that have either the talent or the balls to break out the pattern of the album, there are always precious gems that later--if you get hooked on--turn to have cult worthiness for the fan. trani for example. one of the best songs that evert surfaces a debut album.

i have that freshly spring jitters that you get when you start discovering a new band. there's always new stuff to catch up on--live performances, videos, interviews. you slowly notice speaking voices, most used words, hand moves, customs, laughing styles, repeated pieces of clothing. it's not that different than getting to know a lover. same process, different results--or maybe even same process, same results.

more on cage the elephant soon. now that you know my process, you will better understand my conclusions.

worried blues

unconsciously wore this evening one of big brother's shirts that i had taken from him long long time ago. do not get bored of my constant complaining: i am wired to show how i feel and i miss my brother already.

ain't no rest for the wicked

big brother took off at 4 am-- my sleepiness softened the blow but still not entirely at peace with the idea. had huge plans for the day: that is i was supposed to read the wondeful amazing living in the end of times by the nuclearly incredible slavoj zizek, enjoy lots of coffee and silence around the house, listen to lotsa music, then a movie at night with chips and coke. instead i woke up way too late, skipped breakfast, had a way too late lunch, did dumb stuff on the internet--only good thing i managed to take out was to listen to the debut album of the band cage the elephant--listening to a debut album is always the best of rides.

i tumbled on a few dylans that kept my mind at ease and all that but managed to put together no reading. the sun came up, not happy about that either. around 3 pm i did a minor supply run (to buy chocolate chips for pancakes+chips+coke) when the weather was still darker and windy--oh the beauty in that--but the lousy sunshine came back up and washed all the autumn loveliness. the end of summer is nigh though and that makes me joyful.

tomorrow plans with the bestie to see a movie and chat a little. but now get dressed up and off the go have dinner over at auntie's.

one of my faves of the day:

the rain unravel tales

turns out it rained while i was sleeping. the after-rain coolness still lingers on though, and the lovely gray clouds that stuck around a bit longer so i could see them.

big brother's taking off to a warmer climate early tomorrow morning. i hate goodbyes. needless to say. to take leave turns out to be always much much easier than to stay. and i turn out to be much much more emotional than expected. been walking around with a tear hidden in the corner of my eye for some time now, unwilling to grow up and face the fact that it is just 6 months, and big brother's gonna be back before i know it. yet lonesomeness already settles--not because we part--because we parted before even for a whole year when i left for my crusade in the far away land--but because he parts and i will be still in the same disfunctional whirlwind--of which we both share the same mark of damage.

that being said you can only hope things to turn out all right, and i'm sure they will.

the weather is prefect though. last night as i shut my door and went to bed i could hear the wind howl and shake the doors: it is the most peaceful sound anyone can fall asleep to. you feel like you're in the middle of dark deep forest and almost smell the green leaves being hurled around by the storm's will. the wind must have slowed down by the time i wake up (long after noon) and the ground had dried out but the grayness and cloudiness still stays. i had had enough of summer as it is, so i won't mind if we stay on like this from now on.

also wonderful about the weather: as i have mentioned a friend of mine had suggested an album to me by danger mouse and daniele luppi called rome. it is a beautiful album, but i had been thinking how fitting it would be to autumn weather, and even thought i wasn't enjoying it to its full capacity because the weather was so burningly hot and the sun was so direct and merciless-- so when i woke up to this wonderful weather i immediately brewed my coffee and plugged in that lovely piece of work.

strange desire: i woke up this morning wanting to be walking down an also cloudy brooklyn street with a plastic coffee cup in my hand my fave beatles bag hanging over my shoulder on my way to some open market sight seeing and then to ravage through a bookstore or two. strange things we want for no appearant reason. but then again the apple had been a soft spot for me since i was one of those unbalanced teenagers (that i perhaps still emotionally am) and by the corner of my eye i look up to the large photographs that i had torn out of the calender my host family had given me and put up on my wall--with the colorful joyful majestic christmas tree by the rockefeller center--by which i had stood and posed for a photo--i am a strange person i guess-waking up to miss jim to miss bob to miss exra to miss my fave zeppelin song and even to miss new york of all places--

and if you still can't feel the steam of coffee and the sole of my shoes treading a new york path this may give you a hand to do so:



"the flowers of the city..."

love song

...

About to learn where the most important person in my life is about to spend his next 6 (perhaps 12) months.

good luck, big brother.

...

the restlessness of having some uneexplained incapability of reading: dissapointing as well. burying all that by more jack white.

two against one

a good friend suggests an album she likes--with the most delicious most wonderful jack white--and it is but a wonderful distraction to clear this million dollar head of mine. been trying to tie up a story that i have left unmended months ago but jack white is stealing my thoughts.

...

"His heart I know how variable and vain, self-left."

J.M.

22.

At Joan's

"It is almost three
I sit at the marble top
sorting poems, miserable
the little lamp glows feebly
I don't glow at all

I have another cognac
and stare at two little paintings
of Jean-Paul's, so great
I must do so much
or did they just happen

the breeze is cool
barely a sound filters up
through my confused eyes
I am lonely for myself
I can't find a real poem

if it won't happen to me
what shall I do"

Frank O'Hara

this rememo is set for home

years upon years are put--we don't have real life virgils painting us the way in bright red colors of hell. we don't get to stop midway and point towards a fiery pit and ask what it is or who burns there? but then again we did exchange typewriter pops for keyboard hits.

i don't have a purpose in saying that (or the other) just wrapped up at home today trying to remember how i used to love reading holding my dante that i had started off months ago but got distracted. second chances do sometimes work. put away my ulysses again the other day dissapointed and unworthy. it's either me or--me.

tea and dusting of my kings of leon songs (the ones in which caleb sounds the saddest) and hoping to get some reading done in the night. tomorrow-perhaps a movie or some shopping, lonesome and quiet by choice; maybe a dinner with the fam restless and worried--

aging but non grown.

gain control and take me down

i don't know how your heart works but i love my bands for better for worse--they tend to put up with me through relentless hours of self evaluation and unexplained misery. so i suggest the world to cool it. for when things do tumble down it is always useful to go back to gems like these to remember the good times:




and many more. that followill with his wicked voice.

"did you ever think about that?"

"there is always war and trouble on
my shores;
if we can stop looking at film
we can stop dying."

c. bukowski

a morning glance at some bukowski while dylan plays in the back--slightly gospel, slightly 80s.

beauty walks on a razor there

there was a beatiful girl who i was lucky to meet when i was away from home and while we were taking a morning walk she had asked me where my home was and i had responded 'far far away'. that little girl went through a hell of a lot--lot more than a so called adult could have handled--in that tiny body of hers--and now i hear she's much better.

there is no other news on the world that can ever beat that.