I was lucky enough, despite the inclement weather, to see John Mayer at Merriweather Post Pavilion this past weekend. Soaked and poured on by much more than the rain that night, per usual at his concerts. Here is a clip from his recent DVD release, Where The Light Is.
In Your Atmosphere
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Wherever I go
Whatever I do
I wonder where I am
In my relationship to you
Wherever you go
Wherever you are
I watch your life play out
In pictures from afar
Wherever I go
Whatever I do
I wonder where I am
In my relationship to you
Wherever you go
Wherever you are
I watch that pretty life play out
In pictures from afar
–John Mayer “In Your Atmosphere”–
Four letter word (or an homage to Saul Williams)
Monday, June 9, 2008
i gave all things
for a feeling
greater than the sum
of every thing
all things leading
to a four letter word
four letters of
everything
takes me to
ever
forever
being the word
i took from love
evolve
being the word
i found when
i looked at love in a mirror
my looking glass stood
half empty
of helpless
heart full
of a feeling
that didn’t leave
when she did
What if?
Saturday, May 24, 2008
I’m at home over the Memorial Day holiday weekend, spending time with my dog and my family. It’s been a reflective few days, saturated in malaise and thought but not much sleep. As I navigated the landscape of those thoughts late last night I started browsing through my old bookshelf and pulled a number of Shel Silverstein books to browse through, including A Light in the Attic.
Paging through this old, dusty book, inscribed lovingly by my grandmother, reminded me that for all the effort we may pour into trying to vocalize our feelings or explain our philosophies, sometimes language that a child can understand is the most piercing.
One poem stood out in particular, entitled “Whatif.”
Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I’m dumb in school?
Whatif they’ve closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there’s poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don’t grow taller?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won’t bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don’t grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!
New places and West coast faces
Sunday, April 27, 2008
I spent the last week or so on a long overdue and much deserved vacation from the grind of young professional life. The previous few weeks, between a tumultuous schedule and life rearranging events at work, home, and elsewhere, had left me categorically exhausted.
Before my trip, however, I spent last weekend moving into my new studio apartment, a 550 sq ft space with hardwood floors and annex rooms for an office and dining table. Unrealized, it could house your grandmother or your friend with the stylish bachelors pad. I intend to make it the latter. More to come soon on that.
Without any sleep prior to my flight on Tuesday, I spent most of my time on the flights sleeping. After another nap at Ross’ place we went out and bought food and wine to make fondue (picture below) and bought Call of Duty 4 for the Xbox. A good night just being a couple of dudes.
Wednesday I spent the day in San Francisco, walking around the Financial District, Embarcadero, Chinatown and Union Square. Ross met me in the city after work in SoMa and we had dinner before attending a Yahoo! Brickhouse party put on around the Web 2.0 Expo. (for once I wasnt in town for one of these for work). I have to admit that at about 10 PST I was ready to sleep.
Thursday and Friday evening I visited Mike in Berkeley, “helping” him create a mean creamy chicken and wild rice soup for a function at his school, the Franciscan School of Theology. Friday night, Ross and I met Mike in Berkeley for dinner, and walking along the streets littered with Cal students made me genuflect and long for another go at my college years. Mike and I also spent a solid portion of our evening ruthlessly and unrelentingly picking on Ross over his bright red HHR rental car.
Saturday the three of us went to Napa, where we visited Freemark Abbey, Trinchero and Grgich Hills (we tried Rombauer, with no luck). I enoyed a number of the wines at Freekmark and Grgich, but nothing came close to being distinctive enough to remain in my memory and compel me to buy a bottle. After dinner at Liverpool Lil’s in Presidio (excellent pub food), we went our separate ways.
All in all, it was a trip that contained almost all of what I needed in my life at the moment. Good food, good wine, a change of scenery, a change of pace, fresh faces, and two of my best friends.
The details of my life are quite inconsequential…
Monday, April 7, 2008
Just to keep things in perspective.
Pictures
Monday, March 31, 2008
Sometimes a photo can uncover stark truths and even more startling fictions. On the other hand, a photograph can incite a kaleidoscopic collage of memory with visions and realities traveling desperately through your mind before breaking like a bubble hitting the surface of water and only momentarily grasped.
Sometimes when I look at a photograph, I see things as they were and, often, are. It’s in these moments that the memories are focused into the clarity and sharpness of a winter air that excoriates you slightly as you inhale. On the other hand, much of the time when I look at a photograph, I still see things as I want them to be.
From Mute Math:
I see our fate, I see our past
And all the things that could not last
It’s heavy on these eyes, frozen as I hold this photograph
It’s all we’re left that’s of any worth
And it’s so much more than a thousand words
Now in this frame is our only way we can endureI pictured you and me always
And in this photograph we’re safe
Bill Withers
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Bill Withers performance of “I Can’t Write Left Handed” is probably one of the best songs written about war that I’ve ever heard. It cuts through the macro politics and focuses on what it’s like for a lone soldier. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a clip of the song (from the Carnegie Hall album). Still, Withers has a voice that just screams: I am a man.
