April 20

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Two things:

1) Louis rules for introducing me to this outstanding band from Glasgow.

2) This song makes me want to start singing, "Come back Margaret, he wants to adore you..." This could be a bad thing. Very bad.


The band is now on 4AD. Surprising and deserved.

Blonde Redhead : "The Dress"

Another Blonde Redhead video, directed by Mike Mills. Once again emphasizing the subtle, and giving way for some flagitious, unspoken event, "The Dress" comes through, lyrically, so much clearer, than if we were to be watching some preordained set of images. This is such a sad song. However, I see this video as much more than merely an artistic effort to stretch the boundaries of the "less is more" mentality.
By displaying images of sadness, we are given only a piece of some thought, some perception that all of us can relate with. Each of us have a subconscious understanding/ability to relate with the images of all these sobbing individuals.

Capone's has a secret...

So the other day, I took to the pub up the road from us, with a friend of mine, for a bit of food/drinks/conversation.

I made a startling discovery:


They have Hazelnut Brown Nectar on TAP.



It's been under my nose this whole time! I have been a mere few blocks away from this great discovery. My FAVORITE beer, on tap. This is unreal. Is this happening? After all, this is north Idaho.

Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh! Son of a bitch!! This is wonderful. I am going to visit often. I'm considering becoming a barstool romantic.

I do wish you could still smoke in bars.

I do and I don't.

I do.

How to DO, giving in, and the hour of creativity.

Why do we give in to our unrest?

It's as if, whilst the hour of creation approaches, we become aware of a prevailing sense of angst, a wall in which we are too short to climb over. Every possible excuse becomes ONE, as fatigue, and unrest, and misdirection, and vagueness fight against us.

As I am feverishly creating, sculpting, reading, writing, understanding, devouring; it is then, that I find myself, fighting myself for all control of my being. I cannot help but feel overcome by something and ravished by another.

Take last night, for example. Last night possessed the ideal framework for a perfect evening of thought and discovery. I had a number of hours all to myself in which I could read, write, think, and/or create anything. ANYTHING. Time was of no concern. I had legs that could run any distance, and I seemed to possess the endurance of a cheetah. Time was of no concern.

Multiple pistons were firing off, simultaneously in my mind. I was ready to engage my Creator.

But this is where the purpose of me writing this comes out: Even in my well-placed circumstances, I fell to idleness, to laziness. In my most (potentially) creative hour, I gave in to, that which seems to constrict everything I wish to be, everything I wish to pursue, everything I wish to do.

I failed.