Listen to this:

Probably because I'm tragically materialistic and possessive about my things, I still buy CDs. I like the tangibility and being able to put all my music on display as if to say, Look, here is my music collection! Also, I'm terrified of my computer dying (in which case my life would very quickly fall to pieces) and losing everything in iTunes (though I'm not a complete idiot and of course back everything up). In an effort to deter that from ever happening, I live like it's 1990 and trek out to Best Buy whenever I want a new album. Earlier this week I did just that and finally bought The Persuit, Jamie Cullum's newest record. Now, I adore Jamie Cullum- always have- and I've listened to the new album a couple times straight through and, as per usual, I'm thoroughly impressed with his arrangements and the way in which he makes jazz truly modern. As it stands, my favorite song is If I Ruled The World, which is quintessentially romantic but still maintains an air of lightheartedness.

Anyway, get the album. It's good. I promise.

Perfect Days

At some point in the past two days whilst walking through Boston in the beautiful spring sunshine (am I jumping the gun by calling it spring? Probably), my freckles came out. It's weird, I know, but growing up I always aspired to be one of those magnificently freckled people who get cute sunburned cheeks and a full face of tiny brown spots. Those same people are prone to ultimately ending up with skin cancer, but as a filthy child I didn't care about such things and gazed longingly at pictures of Pippi Longstocking and Huck Finn who ran through the sunshine with reckless abandon, their faces sprinkled with a smattering of sweet freckles.

I like to think that like the budding trees and growing grass, my freckles are some indication that winter is definitively behind us, however I know I'll probably get impaled by a rogue icicle for saying so.

Ho hum.

Be there

If you have nothing to do this Thursday evening, come to this:



See you there!

"We Need an Intellectual Challenge"

The human body is amazing. I went to bed last night and decided I wanted to sleep undisturbed until 9:00. This is my new tactic in dealing with my insomnia- making an absolute decision about the state of my sleep and willing myself to adhere to it. Lo and behold, I awoke exactly at 9:00, completely refreshed, totally content, and very very cozy. By 9:03, I was already thinking, okay, what next? So after some morning wandering and a cup of Peet's Coffee, here I am.

So, what is next? I found this video over at Kitsune Noir this morning. Stephen Hawking is always interesting, and, according to him, the key to our past and future lies in the cosmos. Old news, I know. The man's been saying that for years, but what struck me this morning was how the cosmos exists as the alpha and omega of scientific understanding and can simultaneously shed light on the beginning and the end of our world as we know it. Again, this is not a particularly unique thought, but when it comes down to our human wandering and desire for understanding, it's funny that we look to the one place (the infinite places?) we know essentially nothing about and rake through atomic matter with the hope that something will click and BAM, we will have everything understood. And even if that does happen- then what? If we knew the secrets of the Universe, would our quest for knowledge and our desire to live be stunted? Would a scientist who knew the key to the Universe sit back in his armchair and say, "Job well done!" and never again feel the desire to rise? Or would he move on to cure Cancer or build enzymes that protect bananas from contracting Panama Disease or... or what?

I don't know.

Pink Terror Hawking from mike barzman on Vimeo.

"All we need to do, is make sure we keep talking."
-Stephen Hawking

I went for a walk because I wanted to feel my feet move over pavement, wanted to traverse something solid and unmovable, wanted to find comfort in knowing there is something my weight cannot influence. Strong winds had come with the rain from last week and branches lay tangled in the shrubbery along the sidewalk- the closer we move to heaven, the further we have to fall before we hit the ground.

In the yard of a big home, painted red with white trim and looking slightly like a barn (why was this ever an attractive building style?) lay a crumpled tulip, its lavender petals covered in mud, its stem twisted like a broken limb. It looked so pathetic in the marred grass, still brown and soggy from the winter thaw, and it took me a moment to realize the tulip was not real at all, but rather a silk flower that must have fallen from the fist of a small child or blown from a dumpster where it had been discarded in favor of a more seasonal arrangement on someone's end table. I looked closer and saw the wire coming from the bottom of the stem, the frayed ends of the silk petals, the water stains on the fabric.

The pavement on which I stood was cracked and uneven, warped from months of ice, snow, heat. In the summer it'll need to be repaired. I knelt beside the flower and brushed the dirt away, leaving streaks of mud on the fabric as well as on my fingerprints and chipped nail polish. I picked it up and carried it with me for awhile, twisting it between my cold fingers, until I came to a bridge that passes over a small stream. I cast the tulip- if you can call such thing a tulip- into the water and watched it float away. How futile are our attempts to amend this world when everything is just temporary.

RIP

My most beloved [and very first] pair of heels broke just moments after stepping out my front door this afternoon. We had a good run (almost 6 years) and I'm glad I had a backup- or, more accurately, many backups.

So long, dear heels. The ground we traversed will never be forgotten.

It's been on repeat

I go through stages with music and will listen to a single album continuously for days, weeks, months. Since December, I've been time and again coming back to Bob Dylan's Infidels. Perhaps I don't tire of it because I've yet to actually memorize all the lyrics- not in terms of their actual words, for that's easy, but rather the sentiment behind them.

The album offers many interesting cultural criticisms, such as the raping of third world countries, the limits of free will and that fantastic murky area between good and bad (whatever those words connote to various people) that we as human beings must continuously grapple with as we find meaning in our every day lives.

A grungy peer of mine once called Infidels Dylan's worst album. I disagree, I think it's his best, and I think my grungy peer best start showering if he wants people to take his opinions seriously.

"Steal a little and they throw you in jail

Steal a lot and they make you king."

-Sweetheart Like You

Also noteworthy is Mark Knopfler's lyrical guitar throughout the album. It's actually beautiful.