Amazing Grace - Ani DiFranco
Friday, January 16, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Coming up Roses- Elliott Smith
Song of the day, Coming up Roses by Elliott Smith
I just heard this song as if for the first time and I realize it reflects a lot of what goes through one's 4am mind (one being me, and morning meaning this morning)...
Its winter. Enjoy.
Coming Up Roses
I'm a junkyard full of false starts
And I don't need your permission
To bury my love
Under this bare light bulb
The moon is a sickle cell
It'll kill you in time
Your cold white brother all right in your blood
Like spun glass in sore eyes
While the moon does its division, you're buried below
And you're coming up roses everywhere you go
Red roses follow
The things that you tell yourself
They'll kill you in time
Your cold white brother alive in your blood
Spinning in the night sky
While the moon does its division, you're buried below
And you're coming up roses everywhere you go
Red roses
So you got in a kind of trouble that nobody knows
It's coming up roses everywhere you go
Red roses
-Elliott Smith
Coming Up Roses - Elliott Smith
I just heard this song as if for the first time and I realize it reflects a lot of what goes through one's 4am mind (one being me, and morning meaning this morning)...
Its winter. Enjoy.
Coming Up Roses
I'm a junkyard full of false starts
And I don't need your permission
To bury my love
Under this bare light bulb
The moon is a sickle cell
It'll kill you in time
Your cold white brother all right in your blood
Like spun glass in sore eyes
While the moon does its division, you're buried below
And you're coming up roses everywhere you go
Red roses follow
The things that you tell yourself
They'll kill you in time
Your cold white brother alive in your blood
Spinning in the night sky
While the moon does its division, you're buried below
And you're coming up roses everywhere you go
Red roses
So you got in a kind of trouble that nobody knows
It's coming up roses everywhere you go
Red roses
-Elliott Smith
Coming Up Roses - Elliott Smith
Dawn
Dawn is still far away and pondering her entrance.
She is knitting golds, waiting for the Night to end his quiet escapades of rebirth.
And bearing low he settles on cool haunches and waits, under the arches of insight,
where the distinction between lightness and dark is only time
He, the son of cycles, ushers in the sound vision.
In the shade are slow sounds of steam and metal from years past
particles of dust, electric and so far away, roving.
My window tells me so.
Darkness now hush and temperate, atmospheric, divides spherical and ascends thin-spun into the grace of my window, beckoning light.
Good night my loves.
She is knitting golds, waiting for the Night to end his quiet escapades of rebirth.
And bearing low he settles on cool haunches and waits, under the arches of insight,
where the distinction between lightness and dark is only time
He, the son of cycles, ushers in the sound vision.
In the shade are slow sounds of steam and metal from years past
particles of dust, electric and so far away, roving.
My window tells me so.
Darkness now hush and temperate, atmospheric, divides spherical and ascends thin-spun into the grace of my window, beckoning light.
Good night my loves.
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Gray Carpet Escape
I find that as soon as I plant myself in front of a computer (which is usually 8-4:30) I get terrible headaches.
I am constantly fidgeting and squirming and trying to get comfortable in my work chair.
My body wants out of the office.
I'd like to be a professional stander or walker.
Even now, my eyes hurt from the screen. Screens must be defeated and sitting must end.
I am constantly fidgeting and squirming and trying to get comfortable in my work chair.
My body wants out of the office.
I'd like to be a professional stander or walker.
Even now, my eyes hurt from the screen. Screens must be defeated and sitting must end.
Artist of the Day - Elliott Smith
He seems to be such a beautiful mystery to me. He hits essence on the head; also find him a bit dangerous as it is to dapple in addiction and darkness. But there is comfort in darkness that hopefully brings us closer to light.
p.s. his music literally stills my mind and gets rid of headaches, a natural sedative (and painkiller)
High Times - Elliott Smith
Between The Bars - Elliot Smith
Needle In the Hay - Elliott Smith
p.s. his music literally stills my mind and gets rid of headaches, a natural sedative (and painkiller)
High Times - Elliott Smith
Between The Bars - Elliot Smith
Needle In the Hay - Elliott Smith
Visions of the Seasons
The leaves were swirling, dancing, not falling, but pirouetting with the wind. And they were brown leaves, fragile crisp leaves that would crumble if held.
I watched them move through the space between sky and earth, watched them let the world take them,
watched them and set myself sailing on the dried veins of their skin, curled up as if in a smooth brown boat set to the waters to ripple.
Saw myself a seed,
a passenger on the wing of the world,
moving on a vessle not my own,
riding the tides of the air to settle eventually in the cool moss of
winter breath.
The seasons are 4 points,
as if a star, set routed in an axis of space,
a diamond on a string pulled low,
and watch as the star flies earthbound, and rise,
at the last moment toward the sun.
And the light throws open all points of time,
becomes incandescent until the girth is golden and warm.
What words that break, that crumble once held,
what stars, that move without will,
what winds that blow us clean,
what were these but that which were,
and to all that will come,
like the arcing diamond ascending into the light.
-bl
I watched them move through the space between sky and earth, watched them let the world take them,
watched them and set myself sailing on the dried veins of their skin, curled up as if in a smooth brown boat set to the waters to ripple.
Saw myself a seed,
a passenger on the wing of the world,
moving on a vessle not my own,
riding the tides of the air to settle eventually in the cool moss of
winter breath.
The seasons are 4 points,
as if a star, set routed in an axis of space,
a diamond on a string pulled low,
and watch as the star flies earthbound, and rise,
at the last moment toward the sun.
And the light throws open all points of time,
becomes incandescent until the girth is golden and warm.
What words that break, that crumble once held,
what stars, that move without will,
what winds that blow us clean,
what were these but that which were,
and to all that will come,
like the arcing diamond ascending into the light.
-bl
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Amazing Grace
When I was a kid I don't remember going to church as much as I remember going for A Sunday Drive. Today I took my son for A Sunday Drive. It was an amazing morning when we got to Peace Valley Park. Few people were there, mainly some avid runners. We had fun playing on the pools of ice in the grass and trying to break, jump, crack it open. It is biting cold but we had fun. Away from the screens and outside in the bitter cold, in the middle of winter, in the middle of a deserted park, jumping on the ice. Best Sunday in a while.xoxo
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