the album of the day is The Digital Chronicles by Trentemoller.
it's what is going through my ears as i write this... not a bad little mesh of inner head sounds to rattle around. i came across it today in my meanderings and i thought i'd check it out. it is kind of an electronic version of Japancakes... sort of... but not really... ok, they don't resemble each other at all.
and for something completely unrelated, there is www.themoth.org
it is a gathering place of sorts, probably more correctly referred to as a venue, for storytelling. normal people with their stories... of the varieties made famous by campfires, and salons. you can check out the website as easily as i can explain it. there is an option to listen to a cross-section of them, and i would recommend it, assuming you have a few minutes and assuming you enjoy that kind of thing. perhaps you don't.
it is a cleaning day today. i've lived in a state of clutter for too long in this place, and since a low drag life was my resolution, i decided i had lived with drag for quite long enough.
i put away laundry. i cleaned dishes. i went though mail and filed papers. i went back over my taxes to make sure i didn't forget anything. i cleaned off my desk and actually threw things away instead of just shoving them into a drawer. i feel like i squeezed a whole can of shaving cream into my hands, rubbed it over my entire apartment, and shaved it smooth with a razor.
i even went back once more and went against the grain, lightly, and rubbed it over with my fingertips to see if i had missed any spots.
then there was the steaming hot washcloth to pull everything out and wash it all away.
and for something completely unrelated, there is www.themoth.org
it is a gathering place of sorts, probably more correctly referred to as a venue, for storytelling. normal people with their stories... of the varieties made famous by campfires, and salons. you can check out the website as easily as i can explain it. there is an option to listen to a cross-section of them, and i would recommend it, assuming you have a few minutes and assuming you enjoy that kind of thing. perhaps you don't.
it is a cleaning day today. i've lived in a state of clutter for too long in this place, and since a low drag life was my resolution, i decided i had lived with drag for quite long enough.
i put away laundry. i cleaned dishes. i went though mail and filed papers. i went back over my taxes to make sure i didn't forget anything. i cleaned off my desk and actually threw things away instead of just shoving them into a drawer. i feel like i squeezed a whole can of shaving cream into my hands, rubbed it over my entire apartment, and shaved it smooth with a razor.
i even went back once more and went against the grain, lightly, and rubbed it over with my fingertips to see if i had missed any spots.
then there was the steaming hot washcloth to pull everything out and wash it all away.
my space feels clean again; soft and comfortable.
so my apartment gets a little stubbly from time to time... it happens. it is the breathing in and out of my space. it is the yin and the yang. it is the ebb and the flow. nevertheless, it is probably no surprise that i absolutely loved the bar where we ended up last night.
for one, it was down a dark alley:
EVERY good bar belongs on a dark alley, away from the hustle and bustle, and known only to the unassumingly hip.
second of all, it was full of stacks of old CDs... mixes and albums, both store-bought and burned. it seemed like a forgotten cemetary of mix tapes, left over from middle school crushes... once lost behind the couch or discarded, they slowly began the endless march around the world towards this bar... DeepIn. one by one they have arrived over the course of decades.
for one, it was down a dark alley:
EVERY good bar belongs on a dark alley, away from the hustle and bustle, and known only to the unassumingly hip.
second of all, it was full of stacks of old CDs... mixes and albums, both store-bought and burned. it seemed like a forgotten cemetary of mix tapes, left over from middle school crushes... once lost behind the couch or discarded, they slowly began the endless march around the world towards this bar... DeepIn. one by one they have arrived over the course of decades.
one might wonder what it is that calls to me in that place. it is simply my favorite kind of bar: small, dark, lots of wood, and filled with the handmarks of patrons past. the bar itself wasn't polished to a glossy sheen, it had the matte worn grain of wood that has held up ten thousand pints, hundreds of games of cribbage, and the occasional game of solitaire.
soft conversations were going on at each table and people took their time. there was no raging dance party. there were no waitresses on roller skates. there was no meat market.
there were people leaning into each other, with a beer in one hand, and a story in the other... like moths lean into the flame.
soft conversations were going on at each table and people took their time. there was no raging dance party. there were no waitresses on roller skates. there was no meat market.
there were people leaning into each other, with a beer in one hand, and a story in the other... like moths lean into the flame.
1 comment:
Definitely my kind of place...no need to explain, the picture says it all. I already dream of hopping on a plane to come see you but this may be the ultimate inticement!! I need to have a beer in that bar! I LOOOOOOOVE YOU SOOOOOO MUCH!!!
Post a Comment