public service announcement

moving this week! no time (or internet connection) to update. i spend my mornings packing and my nights unloading. somewhere in between i am at work trolling craigslist for cheap furniture. images of my sexy art-studio-cum-bed to come. i feel sore, sleepless, inundated, and fat--which was basically every day of my collegiate life, but something to which i am not so accustomed now.

let it be known

i went to bed with wet hair again

things that recall austin in the wintertime

-trail of lights
-zilker park
-37th street
-emo's free week
-cardigans
-kerbey lane
-mozart's
-spiderhouse
-long drives at 2 in the morning

getting really nostalgic for all the christmas's spent at home. i don't want to be spending the holidays in a place where it doesn't get cold. maybe i can hightail it up to northern california.

the bad tempered clavier

as a classically trained pianist and a punk rawk nostalgist i often think about what virtuosity means in the two worlds, and whether or not there can be zones of overlap. in classical music virtuosity is performance based - one is commended for the ability to rap out rachmaninoff at 164 beats per minute. but in popular music any one can pick up a guitar and strike some chords. the genius in punk rawk lies in the authorship, the ability of the performer to invent themselves as persona and creator. this process is as much dependent on the spectator, whose careful curation of a music library becomes a sonic guide to their complete being - a being that lends itself more to screaming and crooning because, unlike bach, we are imperfect. classical music has transcended this barrier to some extent with performers like vanessa mae and gustavo dudamel, whose individual and contemporized performance draw crowds and generate excitement commensurate to that of any large rock concert. but when rock music lays claim to instrumental virtuosity, things go terribly awry. see 1970's cock rock and dreamtheater for why guitar playing taken to its technical extreme just, quite frankly, sucks. the purist in me wants virtuosity to stay as it is in both camps. but is there a way to fuse the two without having either lose its integrity? i say this because i have a developing urge to play some preludes and fugues in the back corner of a concert stage while some wiry singer rasps out spoken word poetry and destroys a guitar in the foreground. contrapuntal themes are so punk rock.

boss and i were exchanging musings on 'types' today as we're both aesthetically driven (read: shallow) individuals. he like girls with sharp cheekbones, flashing eyes, choppy dark hair and a yen for the illicit - aka winona ryder. in thinking about my personal types (the male ones, anyway) - gael garcia bernal, nick zinner, javier bardem - a common theme seems to arise: dirty.

letter to a concert security guard: a haiku

do you think we're weird?
probably; you get paid to
stand here every day.

they went through all the motions of being a crowd-raising 90's alternative rock band, and they did it well. but in their well-timed thrashing one sensed a naivete that wasn't present in those who actually survived that time period. it was then i felt like we were all, in some manner or another, impersonating a generation we only wish we knew.

a love story

spent my saturday

dancing stupidly to the vaselines (frances mckee i love thee) and rediscovering how time is quiet. the day almost forgot it was halloween.