hell of a season.

Winter requires a certain bravery.  It requires ammunition.

Summer, on the other hand, flurries by without effort, without a fuss.  The music I tend to gravitate toward during that season is light.  Pastel.  Carefree.  Like elegant cursive letters sprawled out over paper.

In the Winter, this simply will not do.  I need substance.  I need a song to set off my mental fuses, to reach out and pull me from the haze.  Drum clarity into my brain.  Pound out the temptation to fall into hibernation.  I need something that drives me forward.  That gives me a reason to even stir instead of settle like debris in still water.

09-04-13

There is a change in lighting and the in-between-set music slowly fades until you're left with nothing but a quiet, hesitant room full of strangers.  And anticipation.  A substantial amount of that.

As soon as the act of the hour begins their set, they arrive.  Right on time.  And by they, I mean the people who think it's perfectly okay to squeeze right in front of you in blatant violation of the unwritten rules of concert culture, and put their drinks down on the stage that has a sign which clearly states, "NO DRINKS ON STAGE." 

I'm beside myself. 

They whisper.  As if whispering is any less distracting than just jumping on the stage and rubbing their tongues all over the instruments.  They wiggle around.  There is no end in sight to all of the whispering and the wiggling.  And they never sing a single word at all, ever, to any of these songs that have saved you in the past.

Some people might simply label this as annoying.  I would take it further.  I call it irreverence.  Because I'm dramatic like that and had been looking forward to this concert for my whole entire life.  Or maybe just a few years, but come on.

Towards the end of the set, which mostly consisted of me leaning to the opposite side of the tall wiggly whisperers directly in front of me and flashing angry eyes at Drew as he mouthed, "CALM DOWN", someone to my left gets my attention.  They have their friends clear a space right at the front of the crowd, and motion for me to move up there.  I'm hesitant, tell them I'm too tall.

This person, this glorious stranger insists. "You know every word."

And I was beside myself again, but in a much better way.

Just lounging while wearing, what I think you'll agree is, a very classy cat.

The thing about exercising is that it turns me into a very strange, and as of yet completely unfamiliar version of myself.  It makes me not want to binge on ice cream beforehand, because then I'll get a side ache and want to throw up.  It makes me refrain from binging on ice cream afterward, because if I did that then all of the grievous pain I put myself through would have been in vain.  

It also makes me listen to music I would never in my life choose to listen to.  I'm jumping up and down, with a throat so dry I can't swallow my own spit, trying with all of my might to keep my "high knees" from gradually lowering with each step.  And I'm listening to loud techno remixes of songs I've heard too many times already without even wanting to.  You know, those songs that are just everywhere.  The songs that pollute public places and get stuck in your head in spite of all of the efforts you make to keep that from happening.

But the thing is, in that moment, the one where my body is about to shut down, I've found that this music is completely appropriate.  As I'm leaning against a wall in sitting position, except it's just my legs holding me up instead of a chair and my thighs are burning with heat from the underworld, I close my eyes and focus on the "NNS NNS NNS NNS."  And it helps.  

I guess I usually don't enjoy that music because it distracts me from what's happening in my brain.  I typically enjoy my thoughts.  But when I'm participating in exercise, I need my thoughts to just shut the heck up!  

And that, my friends, is what techno remixes are for. 

I hurt.

But happy Friday. Be fabulous this weekend!

I would recommend.

This book:

I read it over the weekend.  There is something about the Holocaust and WWII era that I tend to be both drawn to and deeply disturbed by.  These are things that actually happened, in our world, committed by our same human race.  All I can think is, Why, why, why, why, why?  But I keep studying it because of the inspiring strength of the people that lived it.  Yes, if you asked, I would recommend this book.

This show:

 Words really can't describe or do it any justice.  My latest obsession.  We just finished the second season, and the third is only being filmed right now.  What am I supposed to do until January?  Also, the actor who plays Sherlock is named Benedict Cumberbatch. If that doesn't convince you, I don't know what will.  That name could not be more English if it tried.   If you asked, I would most certainly recommend this show.

This musician: 

Seriously though.  Go buy his album.  Then get in your car.  Roll the windows down, and blast it.  You can't tell me that, at this point, your life won't be at least 9.5 times better than it was pre-Jake Bugg.  If you asked, I would recommend these British-folk tunes.

Oh, and I guest-posted at the lovely Shelby's blog.  I guess I should have mentioned that.

sin city.

a bit overwhelmed with the great size of this H&M, also with the ridiculously loud music blaring from it.

I started a trend in-between sets.  I call it sitting.

"Why don't these girls wear more practical shoes?  Why is this guy trying to hand me a picture of a scantily-clad woman?  Wait, why is a woman trying to hand me a picture of a scantily-clad woman?  How can that homeless man afford Gucci?  She really calls that a dress?  What happens if she drops something?  Where in the world is everyone getting these huge plastic cups?  Wait, those have alcohol in them?  Don't these people know it's only 2pm?  Do they really make a living, dressing up like batman?  Are we in another casino?  Is smoking inside even a thing?  I can't breathe, can you breathe?  Where can we find water?  Why is that music so loud?  Is anyone even dancing?  Where are the stars?  Is that safe?  Is that legal?  Is that logical?  We need to burn this place to the ground."

m m m f.

Finally, we have gotten to the festival.  The whole reason we actually made our way to Arizona.  I just had so many pictures it seemed ridiculous to do it all in one post.

This is where the food situation got pretty out of hand.  But there was just so much of it!  I could smell it wafting through the air from all of the different vendors.  Burgers, hot dogs, corn on the cob, kettle corn, fish n' chips, funnel cake, more kettle corn!  Yum!

My stomach kept saying, "I hate you."
And I was like, "I don't caaare! Here's another polish dog and a Cherry Coke!"

We saw Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, and The Shins.  Some of the best tunes around these days, if you ask me.  The Shins did fantastic, of course.  But, with their 12-piece band, wide variety of instruments, big sound and spontaneous jam sessions, Edward stole the show.  For me, anyway.  It was the best live show I've seen by far.  They let the crowd request all of the songs, and just looked like they were having the time of their lives playing for us.  It was beautiful and I wanna go back.

The Shins will always hold a special place in my heart.  You see, when I was younger I was stuck in a terrible phase where I only cared to listen to bands who made chaotic, angry music in which the lead singer usually sounded like he was really upset about something.  The Shins was my gateway band to bigger and better (and less obnoxious) things.

Outdoor concerts are my favorite part of summer.  No contest.

A sad attempt at photographing the moon.

And here I am.  Sitting on the ground.  Because I have the back of a 70-something-year-old and can't remain standing through more than one set.

"I was raised up believing I was somehow unique, like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see. And now after some thinking, I'd say I'd rather be a functioning cog in some great machinery serving something beyond me.

But I don't, I don't know what that will be. I'll get back to you someday soon you will see.

What's my name, what's my station? Oh, just tell me what I should do. I don't need to be kind to the armies of night that would do such injustice to you. Or bow down and be grateful and say, "Sure, take all that you see," to the men who move only in dimly-lit halls and determine my future for me.

And I don't, I don't know who to believe. I'll get back to you someday soon you will see .

If I know only one thing, it's that everything that I see of the world outside is so inconceivable often I barely can speak. Yeah I'm tongue-tied and dizzy and I can't keep it to myself. What good is it to sing helplessness blues, why should I wait for anyone else?

And I know, I know you will keep me on the shelf .
I'll come back to you someday soon myself." -Fleet Foxes

"I like seeing the hand involved in all work," McPherson says. "[What] you're hearing out of the radio and pop music now is this big kind of congealed blob of ear candy. It works for a minute, but there's no vulnerability there. There's no evidence of soul there. I want to hear the performance and the people behind the performance."

Go check out this fine gentleman's music.  It'll get you dancin!

"Sometimes someone controls everything about you. And when they tell you that they just can't live without you. They ain't lyin', they'll take pieces of you. And they'll stand above you and walk away. And take a part of you with them"  -Jack White

Plus anything this guy has something to do with, it's worth giving a listen.

Cloudy weather makes everything better.  Including music.  Just like how things taste better when you're really, really hungry.  Brings out all of the flavor.  Cloudy weather brings out the flavor of things.

50% chance of rain today, everyone.  Pray with me that it happens!  And lasts for more than ten minutes.