I thought about simplicity today, in terms of letting go of everything that is not needed. Worn-out but still admired shoes. Faded papers. Flat pillows. Old, unloving thoughts.
Then I heard Sinead's a capella koan, which I probably haven't heard in a couple of decades.
No other words needed.
Sinead O'Connor, I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got
Nneka, Africans Concrete Jungle
George Harrison, Beware of Darkness All Things Must Pass
Willie Nelson, One in a Row One Hell of a Ride
Rufus Wainwright, Go Or Go Ahead Want One
David Bowie, Five Years Stage
David Bowie, A New Career in a New Town Low
Matthew Sweet, Divine Intervention Girlfriend
Depeche Mode, Halo Violator
Angie Stone, 20 Dollars Mahogany Soul
Showing posts with label Sad and Beautiful. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sad and Beautiful. Show all posts
Monday, November 23, 2015
Monday, September 14, 2015
Who is to say you'll be livin' in sadness
All I want to do is listen to Ernie Isley guitar solos and look at the sky and the leaves before they both go away, for the first harbinger of the Great Losses of autumn is my nasal and bronchial passages gone haywire.
They call it fall for a reason.
I just don't want this to go away. Please?
At least Ernie will stick around. I can even revisit the context of it all.
They call it fall for a reason.
I just don't want this to go away. Please?
At least Ernie will stick around. I can even revisit the context of it all.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Too Much Information Running through My Head
NOTE: File under Look What I Found Sitting in DRAFTS.
"The vast majority of the world's books, music, films, television and art, you will never see."
The author of this post that I read in, uh, April (!) posits that the world's books, music, films, television, and art do not have to be navigated like a collective black hole, but rather as a gorgeous but terrifyingly tall mountain range. (This is my metaphor. But you should read her essay anyway).
You have a choice. Cull it. Or surrender.
And I agree with her: it's a sad and beautiful fact that you can't do it all. Sad and Beautiful, even--like a film or book or song title. Or like this, which I just found because I wanted to know if a film or book or song actually was titled "Sad and Beautiful."
But, really, I don't have time for Sparklehorse. I know ought to. But locating, downloading, and digesting this album from 2006 also means I'll have to find the old old stuff, and the recent new stuff. Or does it?
I like to claim that I surrender. I know it's the only way to true peace. It's the mindful way. It's the way you want to be when you are in line and the grocery is packed like ants swarming a dropped potato chip or when you are replaying a conversation from 7.5 months ago for the 415.5th time in your head.
But I know that what I do most of the time is cull. Because that's the easy way, while surrendering is not the easy way. Here, I'll do it now. I don't pay attention to
But then...I remember when I discovered Ghost in the Machine. Was it one of those Saturday afternoon trips to Madison from Milwaukee in order to be someplace else for at least a few hours when you are too in your twenties to afford a real vacation? Skulk around State Street, go to Urban Outfitters and feel poor, go to the Plaza and drink a couple of beers and feel rich? I think it was. My friend popped in Ghost in the Machine on the way. "Spirits in the Material World," duh, "Everything She Does is Magic," yes, okay. Then..."Demolition Man"..."J'Aurais Toujour Faim de Toi"..."Too Much Information..." what the WHAT? Why didn't I have this music coursing through my cells before now?
Well, then I did. And it was good.
I think the world puts in front of your eyes/brain/ face what it is you need to see. And, often, when you need to see it--whether engineered by friends, a DJ, Facebook, or the karma of 'pod Shuffle.
But there's a third action here, consume. When you're not surrendering, or culling, you're consuming. Chomp chomp chomp. I could greedily eat up music, theatre, more music, and good television and movies all day long, but I think eventually I'd feel the mileage. I'd want to look at tree, or see something in a cloud and maybe write a sentence about that. OH! Maybe I'd see a woman in the cloud, and I'd make a character from the woman, and some dialogue from the character, and a sketch from the dialogue...
How can I hear anything amid the noise and haste, like that Desiderata poem says, of others' creative factory output? I need to put something out on my own pallet on my own loading dock.
It's all choice, a choice to leave something in, turn away, or do. Seriously, every moment is about what you choose--or, more often, what you choose to be surrender to, whether it's Requiem for a Dream, cooking bœuf bourguignon, Ghost in the Machine, opening a fresh document to allow your thoughts to repose. Choosing, actually, your thoughts themselves.
"The vast majority of the world's books, music, films, television and art, you will never see."
The author of this post that I read in, uh, April (!) posits that the world's books, music, films, television, and art do not have to be navigated like a collective black hole, but rather as a gorgeous but terrifyingly tall mountain range. (This is my metaphor. But you should read her essay anyway).
You have a choice. Cull it. Or surrender.
Culling is the choosing you do for yourself. It's the sorting of what's worth your time and what's not worth your time. It's saying, "I deem Keeping Up With The Kardashians a poor use of my time, and therefore, I choose not to watch it."
Surrender, on the other hand, is the realization that you do not have time for everything that would be worth the time you invested in it if you had the time, and that this fact doesn't have to threaten your sense that you are well-read.
And I agree with her: it's a sad and beautiful fact that you can't do it all. Sad and Beautiful, even--like a film or book or song title. Or like this, which I just found because I wanted to know if a film or book or song actually was titled "Sad and Beautiful."
But, really, I don't have time for Sparklehorse. I know ought to. But locating, downloading, and digesting this album from 2006 also means I'll have to find the old old stuff, and the recent new stuff. Or does it?
I like to claim that I surrender. I know it's the only way to true peace. It's the mindful way. It's the way you want to be when you are in line and the grocery is packed like ants swarming a dropped potato chip or when you are replaying a conversation from 7.5 months ago for the 415.5th time in your head.
But I know that what I do most of the time is cull. Because that's the easy way, while surrendering is not the easy way. Here, I'll do it now. I don't pay attention to
- Any video games that aren't in a console built before 1982
- Vampire stuff
- Contemporary country music
- Candy
- That "Friday" girl
- Steampunk
- Bukowski
- Cake (the band)
- Kardashians, Housewives, and Jens (Aniston, Garner, -lo, etc.)
- Philip Glass
- Plays by Sarah Ruhl
- DIY crafting
- Buffy the Vampire Slayer
- Shoes with heels over 3" high
- Belle and Sebastian
- Charles Dickens
- Comic books
- Darren Aronofsky
- Superhero movies made from comic books
- Reality television competitions
- Cooking shows
- Cooking
But then...I remember when I discovered Ghost in the Machine. Was it one of those Saturday afternoon trips to Madison from Milwaukee in order to be someplace else for at least a few hours when you are too in your twenties to afford a real vacation? Skulk around State Street, go to Urban Outfitters and feel poor, go to the Plaza and drink a couple of beers and feel rich? I think it was. My friend popped in Ghost in the Machine on the way. "Spirits in the Material World," duh, "Everything She Does is Magic," yes, okay. Then..."Demolition Man"..."J'Aurais Toujour Faim de Toi"..."Too Much Information..." what the WHAT? Why didn't I have this music coursing through my cells before now?
Well, then I did. And it was good.
I think the world puts in front of your eyes/brain/ face what it is you need to see. And, often, when you need to see it--whether engineered by friends, a DJ, Facebook, or the karma of 'pod Shuffle.
But there's a third action here, consume. When you're not surrendering, or culling, you're consuming. Chomp chomp chomp. I could greedily eat up music, theatre, more music, and good television and movies all day long, but I think eventually I'd feel the mileage. I'd want to look at tree, or see something in a cloud and maybe write a sentence about that. OH! Maybe I'd see a woman in the cloud, and I'd make a character from the woman, and some dialogue from the character, and a sketch from the dialogue...
How can I hear anything amid the noise and haste, like that Desiderata poem says, of others' creative factory output? I need to put something out on my own pallet on my own loading dock.
It's all choice, a choice to leave something in, turn away, or do. Seriously, every moment is about what you choose--or, more often, what you choose to be surrender to, whether it's Requiem for a Dream, cooking bœuf bourguignon, Ghost in the Machine, opening a fresh document to allow your thoughts to repose. Choosing, actually, your thoughts themselves.
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