The Big Wall continues to crumble, and its foundation is gloriously compromised. There are no more excuses. We can no longer blame management. It's up to us. It's up to you. It's up to me. We are victims leaving the hospital; standing from our wheelchairs.
You have no age, you have no gender, you have no race. You are whom think you are. You are whom you want to be. You are a Kung Fu master of yourself. You are built of bullet-proof stained glass. You are bound with stainless steel. You cradle the sun within you. You glow like God at the river's edge, where your family and friends welcome you. You breathe in the spectrum. You glide through the bubble.
What would you like to do? How can you help?
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Inaugural Comments, Thoughts, and Advice From My Record Collection
"Wake Up Time" - Tom Petty
"Lively Up Yourself" - Bob Marley & The Wailers
"Good Morning, Good Morning" - The Beatles
"Brand New Day" - Van Morrison
"I Feel Good" - James Brown
"Optmistic" - Radiohead
"Gratitude" - Beastie Boys
"High Time" - The Grateful Dead
"You Should Be Dancing" - Bee Gees
"Take Control" - Weezer
"Pick Up the Pieces" - Average White Band
"Bridge Over Troubled Waters" - Simon & Garfunkel
"Please Be Patient with Me" - Wilco
More later.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Sigur Ros
Sigur Ros - Inní mér syngur vitleysingur
(This post is a continuation of Adam trying name his favorite band)
Iceland is crazy pants.
I spent New Year's Eve in Reykjavík and was blown away by the drama of the landscape, the fireworks bombarding every inch of the city and the general elation for the coming new year.
If they ever turn C.S. Lewis' Out of the Silent Planet into a film (which they should do immediately) it must be shot in Iceland. This place does not feel like earth. The terrain is often rocky and mossy, the icy mountains are epic, the waterfalls are dangerously intense and the water rarely looks like water. Sometimes it is milky white, sometimes it is literally neon blue.
And even the people seem a little like aliens with human skin stretched over them. They almost all speak English, which makes everything very easy, but it is the kind of English where just enough gets lost in translation so every interaction is slightly off.
Instead of a simple 'Yes' they often give a different and disconcerting reply:
Me: Does this bus go to my hotel?
Driver: With any luck.
Me: Um...fingers crossed?
Turns out this is just cautious optimism. These people take nothing for granted.
On the flight to Reykjavík, I watched a documentary on Sigur Ros. This band had always been in my peripheral but I never really knew a thing about them. Turns out they are Iceland's golden boy and produce transcendent music. Inní mér syngur vitleysingur, which translates to "Within me a lunatic sings", is the breakout track off their new album. Listening to this song you can almost feel the oppressive darkness of winter giving way to the long days of summer, and in that, the mysterious optimism that comes from being Icelandic.
If I were raised in Iceland this might be my favorite band, but I need to pick something with which I can sing along.
In the meantime, put your head phones on and take a trip to the Arctic Circle.
(This post is a continuation of Adam trying name his favorite band)
Iceland is crazy pants.
I spent New Year's Eve in Reykjavík and was blown away by the drama of the landscape, the fireworks bombarding every inch of the city and the general elation for the coming new year.
If they ever turn C.S. Lewis' Out of the Silent Planet into a film (which they should do immediately) it must be shot in Iceland. This place does not feel like earth. The terrain is often rocky and mossy, the icy mountains are epic, the waterfalls are dangerously intense and the water rarely looks like water. Sometimes it is milky white, sometimes it is literally neon blue.
And even the people seem a little like aliens with human skin stretched over them. They almost all speak English, which makes everything very easy, but it is the kind of English where just enough gets lost in translation so every interaction is slightly off.
Instead of a simple 'Yes' they often give a different and disconcerting reply:
Me: Does this bus go to my hotel?
Driver: With any luck.
Me: Um...fingers crossed?
Turns out this is just cautious optimism. These people take nothing for granted.
On the flight to Reykjavík, I watched a documentary on Sigur Ros. This band had always been in my peripheral but I never really knew a thing about them. Turns out they are Iceland's golden boy and produce transcendent music. Inní mér syngur vitleysingur, which translates to "Within me a lunatic sings", is the breakout track off their new album. Listening to this song you can almost feel the oppressive darkness of winter giving way to the long days of summer, and in that, the mysterious optimism that comes from being Icelandic.
If I were raised in Iceland this might be my favorite band, but I need to pick something with which I can sing along.
In the meantime, put your head phones on and take a trip to the Arctic Circle.
Monday, January 12, 2009
The Libertines
The Libertines - Time for Heroes
(This post is a continuation of Adam trying name his favorite band)
There's no tangible explanation, but I have always had intense cinema connections with old men going through mid-life crises. Guys who have just one last shot, all or nothing: Murray in Rushmore, Spacey in American Beauty, Nicholson in The Shining and now Rourke in The Wrestler.
Nausea never felt so good.
If there's ever a movie made about me, I hope there's a montage where I'm 50 years old getting contentious on whiskey only to start a barroom brawl while the The Libertines roar off the jukebox. This would, of course, lead me to feel the hunger again. So I'd buy and old timey typewriter and train hop across the country, writing the only meaningful screenplay of my life. Normal people fantasize about this stuff right?
So when everyone condemns Pete Doherty for his rampant drug use and wasted potential, I say that's just rock and roll shit. Sure The Libertines burned out too soon, but that's what happens when you are raucous and heartfelt, honest and raw.
And if anyone has an interest in rock star worship/obsession, they should watch this mesmerizing piece on Doherty.
So in review:
1. It's never too late to get it back
2. Go see The Wrestler
3. Start a brawl
4. Doherty could have really been something, and maybe he still can
(This post is a continuation of Adam trying name his favorite band)
There's no tangible explanation, but I have always had intense cinema connections with old men going through mid-life crises. Guys who have just one last shot, all or nothing: Murray in Rushmore, Spacey in American Beauty, Nicholson in The Shining and now Rourke in The Wrestler.
Nausea never felt so good.
If there's ever a movie made about me, I hope there's a montage where I'm 50 years old getting contentious on whiskey only to start a barroom brawl while the The Libertines roar off the jukebox. This would, of course, lead me to feel the hunger again. So I'd buy and old timey typewriter and train hop across the country, writing the only meaningful screenplay of my life. Normal people fantasize about this stuff right?
So when everyone condemns Pete Doherty for his rampant drug use and wasted potential, I say that's just rock and roll shit. Sure The Libertines burned out too soon, but that's what happens when you are raucous and heartfelt, honest and raw.
And if anyone has an interest in rock star worship/obsession, they should watch this mesmerizing piece on Doherty.
So in review:
1. It's never too late to get it back
2. Go see The Wrestler
3. Start a brawl
4. Doherty could have really been something, and maybe he still can
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