observing techniques of the observer

i'm leaving on a jet plane

just a couple hours more and i will go from here to there. let the end of the year/beginning of the year celebrations and gatherings begin...

two days after christmas...

and i feel nostalgic, content, happy, purple, sad, pensive, hopeful + much/all more. there are days at home when we are transported to another time, another place, to a land of past memories with a crossbridge to the equally prominent land of future memories yet to be made. is it the comfort of being at home, of being surrounded by those who love us, despite everything, that allows the mind a certain space to explore and wander? we are afforded a time away from time that usually occupies our daily mindlessness. in these moments, i find myself longing for the beach, for the sound of the ocean waves in my ears, and the giving way of sand beneath my feet. i desire the fleeting moment of sand between my fingers, watching it fall between the crevices so gracefully until i realize again the emptiness in my palm. for now, my book comforts me. comfort perhaps is the wrong word, as i am not unhappy or maladjusted. but anyhow, for now i can find myself lost in the pages of words until the moment when i can lose myself in the calm repetition of the sea.

christmas memories

"Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childhood days, recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth, and transport the traveler back to his own fireside and quiet home! But I am sure that I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round... as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely. I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year." -Charles Dickens

merry-almost-christmas-eve

my dad the recycling genius

ugh...so tired and tummy not feeling good...will explain later. short version: old fire-burning fireplace that we cannot burn anymore, dad uses the found old working parts from thrown away hot water heater, modifies them, buys a few pipes + an on off switch, runs a line off the main natural gas live and VOILA! a super cool heating element that i think can be modified into a wonderfully cool industrial stove. okay, phone calls and then bed for me...ow...ow...ow...teatime.

hmmm...making my vlogging better

checking out bliptv...seems this might be the more popular vlog-vlog-vlogging site than youtube.

nice to be home....but i am sooo very tired. this always seems to happen to me, come home, the body fails me.

in addition, i think i may be suffering from some sort of strange culture shock. my eyes cannot seem to handle all the asphalt. i went to larger than life grocery stores today and experienced parking lot mania. thank god i went to the supermarket first because afterwards came costco. i've never been so turned off to such mass consumption of consumerism. ugh...makes me even more tired.

it's raining. which is way the heck a lot better than snow.

need to write about my wonderful good-bye night in montreal. truly a most memorable evening...thank you guys. *mwah*mwah* kisses to all of you.

time to play with movies...need something mindless.

driving thru the sunset that crosses time & place

like-ugh-goodbye

whatever...

a footnote for my essays

blurred endings & beginnings

"i wanted a perfect ending. now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next." -gilda radner

christmas jollies

ok, it's now 1 minute to 5 in the morning...too much coffee and too much thesis work, too much trying to write and form imaginary architectural programs that are meaningful, and too much sitting in front of the computer has me going just about crazy. needed a little mind-break. anyhow, was just walking down the streets of montreal the other night and saw this most hilarious christmas storefront display...if you need a laugh, well, just watch. it's real short, promise. my 10 minute break is now up.

next project: build a radar that can detect potential happiness

from the pages of my sketchbook, drawn on october 11, 2005 while listening to a.p-g speak phenomenal life truths. a compilation of things overheard re: what happiness is...i do not remember where they all came from===> "happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony"..."happiness consists in activity. it is a running stream, not a stagnant pool"..."the greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves"..."they must often change, whose who desire to be constant in happiness or wisdom"..."true happiness comes from the joy of deeds well done, the zest of creating things new"..."each morning the day lies like a fresh shirt on our bed; this incomparably fine, incomparably tightly woven tissue of pure prediction fits us perfectly. the happiness of the next twenty-four hours depends on our ability, on waking, to pick it up."

just like being a child again

tonight i remembered the christmas holidays...in fact, one particular christmas eve with family in the now sold san francisco house. i have a vague recollection of the real memory in my mind. what is more vivid are the playbacks of video from my uncle's newly bought video camera recorder (this was in the 80's so imagine a ginormous black contraption sitting atop his shoulders...heehee.) the video shows me as a five, no maybe six year old. my hair cut in the short beatles bowl cut that was typical of my elementary school years, and the red and white, mostly red velvet dress. imagine a fairy-tale heidi of the swiss alps type dress, just in red with white lace. anyhow, although i was not playing dress-up in this particular instance (there are other stories of me pretending to be the queen of england, to be disclosed at a later time ;b) i was smiley and happy, roaming about the house, around the potluck fooded table, singing and most importantly twirling about. yes, me, twirling...can you imagine? if you do not believe me, i'm sure i can ask uncle for the tape and we can watch my silliness abound for your personal enjoyment and my personal humiliation. tonight, i remembered this as i tried on liz-girl's all too big heels, and watched her twirl about in her all too pretty fuschia new year's dress.

REMembering chicago

twiddling her thumbs like an evil sorcerer

heehee...a new video is in the works...but highly top secret. check back after the new year's for the revealing. ;b

maria elisa & marcelo say good-bye with beautiful handmade-by-them bracelets, shimmery cards of golden statues wrapped in cellophane, & words of love.

close and intimate with paulie ricoeur

"Look at us, library rats turned into walking encyclopedias; individuals, void of any creative instinct, reduced to wearing masks, born with grey hairs. Historians, charged to guard history, have become eunuchs and history a harem which they oversee. It is no longer the eternal feminine that draws us upward – as in the closing verses of Goethe’s Faust – but the eternal objective, celebrated by our historical education and culture…the genuine historian must have the strength to recast the well known into something never heard before and to proclaim the general so simply and profoundly that one overlooks its simplicity because of its profundity and its profundity because of its simplicity. It is this strength that makes all the difference between master and slave." -Paul Ricoeur in “Towards a Hermeneutics of Historical Consciousness”

dinner @ villa isabelle

there are evenings which are meant to memorable. this was one of them. thank you both for giving me such smiles and tears, happiness and longing, for reading the destiny of my name, and sharing in silliness of schmorgasborg (sp?)...for filling a hole that exists in me with the jiggliness of wonderful red jello.

currently listening 2 >> > > > > >>

at java u...listening to soothing sounds on this sunday afternoon trying to muster up my creative thinking skills. once again will attempt to begin/revise/finish my critical writing paper. i have sat down so many times this past week, started typing, gotten 3 pages into it, and then "file-quit-do you want to save" answer "no". i see this as the modern day equivalent to crumpling up a piece of paper and throwing it across the room into the garbage. for some reason the file-quit-save-no process is so anti-climatic. maybe i should just keep a stack of old papers already meant for garbage next to me so i can just crumple them at the appropriate moments. not a bad idea, a kind of "take out all your frustrations" ritual. i suppose that wouldn't be such a wise idea in public places such as java-u. anyhow, here is a sampling of the sounds which resonate with me today, yesterday, and as of recent...hehe...decided to write the lyrics that echo with me since i know not all of you like my music choices (eh-hem, bg...heehee). maybe you will find the poetry in the words themselves minus the music. (bg, miss you much, you don't call me back or text me, how come? 6 days till we meet again...the official less-than-a-week countdown has begun.)

"the trapeze swinger" (iron&wine)

Please, remember me Happily By the rosebush laughing With bruises on my chin The time when We counted every black car passing Your house beneath the hill And up until Someone caught us in the kitchen With maps, a mountain range, A piggy bank A vision too removed to mention But Please, remember me Fondly I heard from someone you're still pretty And then They went on to say That the pearly gates Had some eloquent graffiti Like 'We'll meet again' And 'Fuck the man' And 'Tell my mother not to worry' ...Please, remember me At Halloween Making fools of all the neighbors Our faces painted white By midnight We'd forgotten one another And when the morning came I was ashamed Only now it seems so silly That season left the world And then returned And now you're lit up by the city So Please, remember me Mistakenly...Please, remember me As in the dream...Please, remember me My misery...Please, remember me Seldomly...Please, remember me Finally...

"when you smile" (the flaming lips)

It’s like I never had to see it in your eyes or feel it I could tell when you smile. It’s like I didn’t need to say anything or do much, I could tell When you smile All of the subatomic pieces come together and Unfold themselves in a second...Every single molecule is right, when All of the subatomic pieces come together and unfold Themselves in a second.

"the bends" (radiohead)

Where do we go from here? The words are coming out all wierd Where are you now when I need you? Alone on an aeroplane Falling asleep against the window pane My blood will thicken. I need to wash myself again to hide all the dirt and pain I’d be scared that there’s nothing underneath And who are my real friends? Have they all got the bends? Am I really sinking this low? ...And I wish it was the sixties I wish I could be happy I wish I wish I wish that something would happen...I want to live and breathe I want to be part of the human race.

"dig for fire" (pixies)

There is this old woman She lives down the road You can often find her Kneeling inside of her hole And I often ask her Are you looking for the mother lode? Huh? No. No my child, this is not my desire And then she said I’m digging for fire ...There is this old man Who spent so much of his life sleeping That he is able to keep awake for the rest of his years He resides On a beach In a town Where I am going to live And I often ask him Are you looking for the mother lode? Huh? No. No my child, this is not my desire And then he said I’m digging for fire...

"the love that i crave" (the blow)

The love that I crave is a polar bear to gore me. Then, I'd know the force with which she adored me. The love of my dreams is the stuff of my nightmares- when I wake up in screams that's how I know that I really care. I must await the swing of the scorpion's tail, because my impatient advances always end up so pathetic. Little pinches and pokes don't mean a thing compared to a true arrival and the shock that it brings. Pick it up, try it, get tired of it, rewind. I'm so tired of being wasted just chasing the same old thing. I want to get hit by a big thing, come take me, change me.

"he lays in the reins" (iron&wine)

One more drink tonight as your gray stallion rests Where he lays in the reins For all of the speed and the strength he gave One more kiss tonight from some tall stable girl She’s like grace from the earth When you’re all tuckered out and tame One more tired thing the gray moon on the rise When your want from the day Makes you to curse in your sleep at night One more gift to bring we may well find you laid Like your steed in his reins Tangled too tight and too long to fight

"come on petunia" (the blow)

Every little thing she does is magic. Every thing she does just turns me on. Even though my life before was tragic, now I know my love for her goes on. "Come on Petunia", you thought in your head, "It would all be so easy if you could be led to the cave where I hide you in linens and frames, and in new combinations I've made of our names. It's a tiny hole, yeah, but you'd fit if I sliced you up wee itty bitty, I'd sliver and splice you and then you could be many, and I'd be the one who was privy to love you and show you the fun." Every little thing she does is magic. Every thing she does just turns me on. Even though my life before was tragic, now I know my love for her goes on...I resolved to call her up a thousand times a day I thought I'd ask her if she'd marry me in some old fashioned way well but my silent fears persisted and before i reached the phone like before my tongue has twisted must I always be alone. You're all jenny and lindsey and fine and I'm underwater, I'm shedding my mind. And I'm pretty sure baby if you'd hold my head I could live like I've wished for and undo my dread, because, I see candygrams up in the ceiling tiles, witty postcards sent off from the sandwich isles. In these towns where vacations will lead us, I'll hold out my treasures and their wealth will feed us. But, oh, she does as she wishes, and no, she won't be your missus. You kingdom it widens and you're there alone with all that love, and the void on your throne. Every little thing she does is magic. Every thing she does just turns me on. Even though my life before was tragic, now I know my love for her goes on.

"hide and seek" (imogen heap)

THIS SONG IS JUST MEANT TO BE LISTENED TO...PREFERABLY EYES CLOSED, SITTING ON THE BEACH DEEP INTO THE NIGHT, THE CRASHING OF THE WAVES IN THE BACKGROUND AND COLD MISTY SPRAY OF SEA SALT ON YOUR FACE.

"the passives" (the faint)

left eye spins in circles, passives line the rail. they get no satisfaction from the electro-static breaks. a beat can't cut the passives loose they're afraid what we will say. no harm is done when you try it then hide. parts moving - keep moving. a cool collected life is a safe move... you heard that. you're unsure but its clear to us. come to terms, you're alone here observing. every time you go out you observe. walk past collared passives. don't look toward their eyes. it adds to their discomfort, shows there's some confidence they miss.

"hock it" (the blow)
You're so slidy with your tender lines, I know you take the babies by the hand. And it's all fine until you tug my time, that's how you put your fuel into demand. Chests ablaze with just the aiming of your gaze you can blink and watch the ladies take a fall. I recall the soft heat of when you left me in the street and I watched you walk on. Hearts beat quicker when your eyes provide the liquor, it's enough to flood the bachelorette parties all the girls would throw, if they thought the groom would show- but they know that he won't. He's a punk, won't give it up. Hot looks but he can't touch. The ----something or other--- is the chase. To catch your gaze is like a bird within the hand. It began so nice, but now I'm trapped inside, it seems your cage for me must be the plan. You mean tricks, like the wetness of your lips when you say, "just put your heart here in my hand." And though I know you might hock it, I can't keep it in my pocket. I've tried, but I can't. Oh man. I can see, and all the fellas they agree, that a boy like you is not to be trusted. But it's just so hot, it incinerates my thoughts, and I'm not really able to make it stop. Your hot staring, though it seems it might be caring, I know that it's me that you're gonna drop. But I don't unh care, I'm as happy half aware. Keep it there, hot eyes. Your tease is the best prize.

"cumulus" (imogen heap)
"hey you" (the blow)
"well you needn't" (solvent)
"la chanson des deja vieux de demain" (les acrobates)
"photograph" (weezer)
If you want it, you can have it But you’ve got to learn to reach out there and grab it ’cause everybody wants some love Shooting from the stars above And though my heart will break There’s more that I could take I could never get enough If you need it, you should show it ’cause you might play so monastic that you blow it ’cause everybody wants some hope Something they can barely know And though my heart will break There’s more that I could take I could never let it go It’s in the photograph It’s in the photograph It’s in the photograph of love ’cause everybody wants a dream Something they can barely see And though my heart will break There’s more that I could take I could never let it be It’s in the photograph It’s in the photograph It’s in the photograph of love If you blew it, don’t reject it Just sit drawing up the plans and re-erect it Just sit drawing up the plans and re-erect it Just sit drawing up the plans and re-erect it
"the forest - tree mix" (the cure) so hypnertomachia polyphilo!
Come closer and see See into the trees Find the girl If you can Come closer and see See into the dark Just follow your eyes Just follow your eyes I hear her voice Calling my name The sound is deep In the dark I hear her voice And start to run Into the trees Into the trees Into the trees Suddenly I stop But I know it’s too late I’m lost in a forest All alone The girl was never there It’s always the same I’m running towards nothing Again and again and again and again

oh-happy-snowy-days-of-montreal

another happy day thanks to a flickr mail just received...the snow is coming down, and laundry awaits drying...but at least i will have my buttercup-mini to fill my ears with soothing sounds and the book in hand at the moment, victoria finlay's "colour: travels through the paintbox"...

since you will miss it, this is the best that i can do...complete with ticket and everything, just for you.

ok, ok...so i know it is not the best quality of video, my camera is 4 years old now and can only take 30 second clips max...anyhow, i tried to piece together a bunch of the clips and the transitions kind of are sucky...but heck, i'm trying my best to do with what i have, as technologically defunct that i am at the moment. isabellnecessary's critique word for word "not my cup of tea...the music kept on changng violently like that, or were these your edits?...I thought it was crap!" well almost word for word with a little manipulative twist to show how mean she is being...hehe. anyhow...on to the crappy video clip.

"let's go dancing to music from unknown sources in deserted piazzas"

june 2005, stefanie and i stumbled haphazardly upon this empty piazza while wandering venice. there was music floating in the air...no one was watching, so we decided to dance. such a happy moment of spontaneity for me. now she is moving to fairbanks, alaska to build mobile tent structures. talk about spontaneous. i hope that her move goes smoothly, and she can survive the below-zero-degree weather long enough for me to come visit and see the aurora borealis...it's going to be amazing, stefania!

because it's been said that it's better to vlog

november 2004, an exhibit room in the carnegie museum of modern art @ pittsburgh, reflective mirror-like pillows filled with helium float and wander aimlessly round the room with help from the fan's breath of air.

list of impending things to do:

in order of importance:

1. figure out where "we" are going for new year's...somewhere in california, preferably the non-snowy parts.
2. write/re-write entire three sections of critical writing essay (hopefully to be done tomorrow)
3. write thank you/will see you again/keep in touch cards for all those whom i love so here in montreal
4. thesis thesis thesis (background and research must all be compiled into a presentation of sorts to be given upon my return) this requires much more reading and drawing yet to be done...ugh...
5. decide for sure about applying for the master's program next year...although the more i look at reality, it seems the most logical thing is work and finishing exams...
6. the next questions then are, where and what kind of job?
7. transport blogger blog to wordpress...combined with this task is learning flash
8. document all "installation art" projects that have been mustering in my head...begin to figure out how to actually fund a building/constructing of them.
9. there is more....soooooo much more....

for now, sleep...i will say my prayers to the gps gods tonite after i read a couple chapters in my colour theory books...

all of you worry too much about me...haha

just for clarification, i am happy! all of you need not misinterpret my previous melancholic entry (too much wine, no more drinking for me...haha, yeah right). there is a certain anticipation of waiting and unknowns lately that make me more thoughtful about certain issues, and this is all...i am happy really...listening to jason mraz "i'll do anything"...makes me smile and reminds me of times being lacubrious. today is a happy-silly-jenn day...don't have any place to be or go...get to lounge in my comfy pajamas and do little dances as i clean my room and sort through papers...well, thesis awaits me too...but know there is nothing but smiles on my face and heart today.

the woman who waits patiently

"learn the art of patience. apply discipline to your thoughts when they become anxious over the outcome of a goal. impatience breeds anxiety, fear, discouragement and failure. patience creates confidence, decisiveness and a rational outlook, which eventually leads to success." -brian adams

fears...

for some reason tonight, i find myself listening to "a love supreme"...an album i haven't listened to for quite some time now. but as i type, john coltrane brings me to a place far away from here. to the state of washington and letters of love and missing, of forgiveness and hurt. i do not know if it is the innocence of being truly in love for the first time, or a connection that remains even through silence and years which have passed (for i feel he, above all, still knows me best)...whatever the case, i recall the moment on the beach where a hand reached out to save me from the overwhelming waves, three hour kisses on park benches, and moments of crying in the car at the nearby shopping mall parking lot.

"long ago, i drew a line into the sand, jumped across and held your held. band of gold protect us from the bitter tide that comes to wash away your words with time. hello you. hello me. hello hello. can't you see love is more than what it seems...."

there are days when moments of the past creep up on us. we, rather i, cannot help but feel a sense of missing.

it is not something which prevents me from the continual living, from the continual search for happiness. but instead, it becomes a moment for which i can propel myself further...i remember words exchanged in a park of forgiveness, of pieces of paper wrapped with a purple rubberband, and the way that the sun shone on his hair.

it would seem, that now, at this particular moment in time i should censor these words...to keep them from this public space away from the eyes/ears of others perhaps deeply intertwined into my now daily life. however, it is important to exchange such memories...to tell how they affected/infected/effected us. i cannot help these thoughts, in fact i wish i could share them with you but sometimes i feel as if i were living in a romanticized novel where our only exchanges happen on rendez-vouz weekends far away from reality. when in truth, there is pain, family histories, memories in which you cannot understand me unless you listen to these as well...i don't want to live in a fairy tale, as wonderful as that may seem...

i don't want to be afraid to speak what is on my mind. i fear having to guard my heart so closely. i want to tell you my background. the memories that guide me. the moments which are both intimate and painful. perhaps now is not the time...i understand this fully. maybe once we can narrow the broad horizons that lay before us...forgive me, for the bottle of wine and this mumbo-jumbo....but it all had to come out somehow, somewhere, sometime....

to be secretive.

secrets are only secrets if there is someone to reveal them too...

2046, originally uploaded by ymk

out of my control

in a few hours, the stories of moving and adventures for all of us will begin...from this moment, there is no turning back. one will begin adventures in another land across the sea, the tears of another will be erased by the move to a spacious new apartment replete of drunkards, evenings of quiet walking will be shortened by even yet another move to number two's old apartment...i, myself, will return to a land i once knew. it is inevitable that it too will be a strangeland, as i am now estranged.

the future is approaching quickly... the methodical seconds and minute hands of the clock seem to take on a new, more fervent life of their own.

what the heck is going on....

more imogen heap for smiles followed by "tonight may have to last me all my life" by the avalanches

"say goodnight and go"

skipping beats, flashing jeeps
i am struggling
daydreaming, been sitting, the corner cafe
and i'm left in bits, recovered tectonic, trembling
you get me everytime
why'd you have to be so cute
it's impossible to ignore you
must you make me laugh so much
it's bad enough we get along so well
say goodnight and go
follow you home
you've got your headphones on
and your dancing
got lucky, beautiful shot
you're taking everything off
watch the curtains, wide open
and you fall in the same routine
flicking through the tv
relaxed and reclining
and you think you're alone
oh why'd you have to be so cute
it's impossible to ignore you
must you make me laugh so much
it's bad enough we get along so well
say goodnight and go
one of these days
you'll miss your train, and come stay with me
it's always say goodnight and go
we'll have drinks and talk about things
and any excuse to stay awake with you
you'd sleep here, i'd sleep there
but then the heating may be down again
at my convenience
we'd be good, we'd be great together
go
why'd you have to be so cute
it's impossible to ignore you
must you make me laugh so much
it's bad enough we get along so well
say goodnight and go

why is it always, always
goodnight and go
goodnight and go!

left for garbage...

sounds for the day

everything the blow . . . albums: "everyday examples of humans facing straight into the blow", "poor aims: love songs", "bonus album", & "the concussive caress, or, casey caught her mom singing along with the vacuum"...i love the titles...but more importantly i love this blog entry from khaela maricich [a careful reminder that some days things just don't work and it will be bad no matter what...basically just keep going, smile, tomorrow will be better]

favourites, well, the whole "poor aims" album for sure. but then "come on petunia", "nothing", "our holes are dug", "a night full of eyes", "what the guitar said about the firmament", "gravity", "the democracy of small things", & "where i love you" BUT all the in between fragments that are like only 20/30 second clips are little jewels in and of themselves...anyhow...maybe it is time to read till the dawn falls upon me.

my waking life

quietly listening to: the arcade fire "in the backseat"

i find my time here in montreal drawing to a swift close. it is hard to not allow nostalgia or melancholy set in as i walk the streets. i try to enjoy each moment as is it were a normal day, carefree & without deep thought. however, i find it next to impossible not to succumb to the "i should remember's" & "do not forget's" & "make a visual note's" that impede my every waking moment. i am reminded of the movie "waking life" (even tho i don't ever think i ever watched the entire movie ;b)...being somehow caught between dream and reality. i feel as a character in animation, floating from place to place, encountering my own punctums with such ease, forgetting completely the efforts of walking. there is a certain relaxed energy that breathes from the streets of this city. it has pervaded the pores of my skin and filled me with a living vitality; something which i have not felt for quite some time. it is nice to feel, perhaps for the first time ever, a sincere comfort in my own skin. at almost 28, it is about time i suppose. montreal embraces this comfort & provides a space for such fitting to occur.

the possibilities appear endless here. with cent discussions of impending futures and broad horizons that lay ahead, i could not imagine a better place to mold my thoughts and allow them to be subject to their own inherent generative powers. i most certainly am not where i once imagined myself to be even say just 8 years ago. and in that number 8, it really is only in the last 1 that i was able to rise out of a muck of stagnation. i find myself more creative, more thoughful, less suppressed, less concerned with implications of certain decisions that i once would have allowed to weigh me down. i find myself writing postcards again, sending them off with a smile and confidence. for seven years (wow! astonished at how long of time has passed already) i never wrote a card with enthusiasm in my heart. maybe montreal also has magical capacities. perhas it sounds naive and silly to believe in magic, but i do. there are certain encounters, conversations, works of art, moments on the street that sprinkle magic glitter dust on me and transform me into a being i was not before. i've been overly blessed with such magic this past year.

today i walked up boulevard saint laurent, destination laika of course (where i sit and write this now). the winter chill hit my cheeks, normally an unwelcomed thing for me, but today i did not mind, the more of montreal's magic that my pores can take in, the better.

a week ago i wandered the streets with my visiting boy. through 4 inches of snowy slush slush slush we walked the city of montreal. i wonder if some of the city magic pervaded his green overcoat, if in the mustard yellow eames chairs he could feel the comfort that montreal gives my heart.

(pause...more thoughts of unknowns come to the forefront of my mind)

at some point, some sort of action will need to be put into play from which a direction of unfolding can begin...but for now, there is still a little bit of time left to ponder.

dj marcelo

so i'm off to laika because marcelo (maria elisa's husband) is having a trial play/interview at laika between 6&9...should be fun...if you are in the neighborhood, come stop by and have a drink with us.

a marsvolta mood

it is not often that i crave the sounds of the mars volta. but here i am, the last two days actually looking and searching for more mars volta than i have on my current playlist. songs of the moment that resound and echo over and over from the two little speakers on my buttercup (in order of my listening preference of course):

son et lumiere
inertiatic ESP
l'via l'viaquez
cygnus...vismund cygnus