tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63340157775058658512024-02-06T21:18:32.910-06:00oh oh my! we are blessed!h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16799703305210168032noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6334015777505865851.post-15250438161924593362008-12-15T22:23:00.005-06:002008-12-15T23:11:14.955-06:00i love Christmas this year<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Please enjoy this video of my amazing friend Linda singing at the annual agency Christmas party. Enjoy it even though it's sideways.</span></span><br /><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyzrsr9jwvEPA-JUH5HLg9rg7msZg1fNYs8xzVj75CEM-R4cBs5NKqLGV7R88XiwqOzDpH5sPc8mD15CNX2Bw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16799703305210168032noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6334015777505865851.post-42552650949536085972008-12-09T22:44:00.003-06:002008-12-09T23:11:28.080-06:00snow<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5INJ-xc8bqxk0mqLwL2OqFZ4eoMF7iSHZ4Ckt3fHe93-tEICDaruindlXP9M-6hNQ4eyW2UuyKYQUfMGah9hiaXroT3c-UScTHQ5ggrHwo3rVFvTkyPBtgkmYJ-0l3U6rxnYIm23kfQ8/s1600-h/IMG_2225.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5INJ-xc8bqxk0mqLwL2OqFZ4eoMF7iSHZ4Ckt3fHe93-tEICDaruindlXP9M-6hNQ4eyW2UuyKYQUfMGah9hiaXroT3c-UScTHQ5ggrHwo3rVFvTkyPBtgkmYJ-0l3U6rxnYIm23kfQ8/s200/IMG_2225.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278024432936752514" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">i found myself going downtown tonight to see a friend visiting from Brooklyn. the day's rain was turning into snow and holiday lights were everywhere. we ate and talked and talked and talked. she brought me NY bagels and human interaction. bliss.<br /><br />on my way home, i seriously considered eating fresh snow from the top of a garbage can. i had almost decided not to when i bumped (almost physically) into Ethan, looking happy and healthy and heading towards Annie's. he'd been on my mind for weeks now, which had me suspecting i'd see him around somewhere. but i'd let my guard down, what with all the winter all around me. why do people always say "we should hang out"? and why do i always say "of course"? he still makes me sad, even w/ all this time between us. and now i will hang out and be even sadder, after months and months of happy. frustration.<br /></span></span>h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16799703305210168032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6334015777505865851.post-29299706016548253232008-11-20T18:49:00.004-06:002008-11-22T20:27:47.495-06:00people, places, things<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">when the seasons change, my body doesn't want to eat anything. so, i've just been pick-pick-picking at things all week. today i had a little chili for breakfast, then a zuccinni muffin later on, then some apples and bread. for dinner i had a sort of lebanese cookie stuffed w/ walnunts, along w/ half of a delicata squash. it's these between times that my body is able to say exactly what it wants and how much. it's these between times that i am most myself. i sleep when i'm tired, i smile into mirrors and into the sun, i wink more.<br /><br />so, i haven't posted in a million years, as friends keep reminding me. i've moved, gotten a fish </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">and an internet connection, been to korea and back... a lot to report on. reporting is always daunting to me, as it's best done on the spot, which is never a spot where i have a computer/pen/appropriate audio device. i am forever trying to remember to write this or that down, to tell this or that to so and so. it never happens. i offer a blanket apology for that, here and now.<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkwmPUQAfriyVhedxgoTgdlvBUlaZX1TMYb__xY0uS0zZbnKBjNvI2wJqe1KcaSJuJSZJcRa0xunWHOohRxk2ecxbGTOIfpYKtlKts_a3nrMGoRdiIBgxzB_d3Szo__ebrwTyPfuf17Ec/s1600-h/3026095771_4da2a73b6c_b.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkwmPUQAfriyVhedxgoTgdlvBUlaZX1TMYb__xY0uS0zZbnKBjNvI2wJqe1KcaSJuJSZJcRa0xunWHOohRxk2ecxbGTOIfpYKtlKts_a3nrMGoRdiIBgxzB_d3Szo__ebrwTyPfuf17Ec/s200/3026095771_4da2a73b6c_b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270914131781653538" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">korea was (truly</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">) amazing. blazing fall colors on copious mountain tops. a total inability to communicate verbally. abundant kindness. food that takes adjusting. and darling frien</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">ds, new and old. that didn't really tell you anything, did it? go look at some pictures (www.flickr.com/hilarykleinmarshall). temples, kimchi, faces.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">upon my retu</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">rn, i was first thankful for the opportunity to see such a faraway place. then, almost immediately following my joyful graditude, i felt oppressed by my self-imposed burden of stuff (dishes, couch, dresses...) that keeps me tied to chicago. travelling, i felt so light. see, for years i have been unable to decide what really comes next for me (whatever that means), so i do temporarily interesting things and wait for something "real," while acrewing countless worldly, useless possessions. i briefly felt smothered. but then i went back to work, which i realized i had missed immensely, and chicago didn't seem so burdensome. and then the jet lag wore off, and with it went the euphoria of having experienced "something new." the coziness of "something the same" settled back onto me. i'm really very happy wherever i am, doing whatever it is i do, something i'm only just starting to understand about myself. even trapped in chicago under my mountain of things, i'm somehow satisfied. i'm struggling to understand if that's complacency or happiness. or just rambling.<br /></span></span>h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16799703305210168032noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6334015777505865851.post-13788951108716504592008-07-06T13:15:00.003-05:002008-07-06T18:25:17.825-05:00off day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://johnbokma.com/mexit/2007/08/21/doolittle-ben-sisario-continuum.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://johnbokma.com/mexit/2007/08/21/doolittle-ben-sisario-continuum.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">i'm sitting across from <a href="http://charmicarmicat.blogspot.com/">Ben Sisario</a>, music critic for the NY Times, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">right now</span>. for some reason, he's covering StoryCorps today and i'm fairly certain i'm boring the man to tears, prattling on. see, i'm having one of my many off days, where i can't manage to shut up, but also can't seem to say anything of significance. i forgot JD Salinger's name (seriously?); i've used only three adjectives (great, special, amazing) in the last hour, over and over. he's not quite interviewing me, but also not quite NOT interviewing me... i guess everything is "on the record." well, shit.<br /><br />what a day for an off day. </span></span>h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16799703305210168032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6334015777505865851.post-25759320838294512462008-07-03T15:21:00.005-05:002008-07-06T13:15:20.993-05:00birthday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgRpCEbZeui9VkUw3SYAGsjdhiDjUsJGBb5PThe_IfJIdgZef2CZrvcGHV6nrqbEHpUQfeOP9UG11sVhwY61A2NoW2xYI7w0fj34YMzdjtvX8-2Wh7-CjHpmiE1tjulu-Fh5_LU_d144/s1600-h/cake_close.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgRpCEbZeui9VkUw3SYAGsjdhiDjUsJGBb5PThe_IfJIdgZef2CZrvcGHV6nrqbEHpUQfeOP9UG11sVhwY61A2NoW2xYI7w0fj34YMzdjtvX8-2Wh7-CjHpmiE1tjulu-Fh5_LU_d144/s200/cake_close.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218886265683365378" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">today i'm turning 25. i got this adorable lava-cake arrangement from StoryCorps' partner station's liason, June (from North Country Public Radio). she is just about the sweetest southern lady you'll ever meet! i'm so thankful for her nice-ness, because everyone keeps telling me birthdays away from home are supposed to be sad, and i don't want THAT. so far, things are a-okay... i did a great interview this morning with a guy with Parkinson's Disease who did my favorite thing that SO many participants do (more than i ever expected) - he sang! that was gift enough.<br /></span></span>h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16799703305210168032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6334015777505865851.post-30020278054552629262008-06-23T16:57:00.005-05:002008-06-25T21:14:08.999-05:00Grown Up Land<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirGZjef4mY9LoTpv2WwyoaALGrC2eLeZ0e0w_vSVQdMKhc66LZja92YWrXOW_oxWQOQgmP5tU94klh-rg4vfuqnk7KGOb1HmQJV9az2z6-0Vbzt25hAuRdr-atXiJFgfzUSMujALBmd5g/s1600-h/IMG_3559.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirGZjef4mY9LoTpv2WwyoaALGrC2eLeZ0e0w_vSVQdMKhc66LZja92YWrXOW_oxWQOQgmP5tU94klh-rg4vfuqnk7KGOb1HmQJV9az2z6-0Vbzt25hAuRdr-atXiJFgfzUSMujALBmd5g/s200/IMG_3559.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216006790816798194" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">[randomly and apropos of nothing...]<br /><br />I'm daily amazed by what my slow, awkward march towards adulthood yields. As a child, I was terrified at the thought of "growing up." It seemed to involve more </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">yelling and check writing than I imagined myself capable of. </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Oh, to live in the bosom of ignorance and innocent naval gazing forever, accompanied by the tiny </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">treasures </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">only a child could love (strawberry scented eras</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">ers, etc). I was forced into worrying </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">and getting a job much earlier than I'd hoped (pre-pubescent early) and got on the conveyor belt to Grown Up Land, ill-equipped and putting on a brave face, with no real idea what I was intended to do, other than constant damage control. I've lived for years like this, part adult/part child, with no understanding of how to actually become one and leave the other behind gracefully.<br /><br />Slowly, and with so much goodness, God (or something) has fed me tiny scraps of adult knowledge. Recently, and later than anyone else but at just the right time, I have learned how to quietly look away from the thoughts that can undo me (the idea of aloneness, for example). Simple self-preservation has crept into my arsenal of survival techniques, winning out (when it needs to) over giving-my-all or telling-the-whole-truth, which have long masqueraded as the highest virtues.<br /><br />The 20's are amazing in their gut-wrenching beauty and constant, ridiculous epiphanies. I live in a new kind of bosom, complete with a new kind of self-absorbtion: learning to understand me. And I've got a new set of tiny treasures, fit for grown-up ladies... found objects tucked into pockets, bits of string for future projects, and a kernel of hope that everything will be okay.<br /><br />P.S. many thanks to the friends who came out to party on Sunday... I was reminded (right when I needed it) just how blessed I am, how safe in all your arms.<br /><br />P.P.S. maybe this blog isn't so random... i'm moving into my own grown-up, one bedroom apt this weekend. see green living room above (now sadly white, thanks to the boring mngmt company).<br /></span></span>h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16799703305210168032noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6334015777505865851.post-67628944293445969862008-05-18T21:44:00.006-05:002008-05-21T22:13:40.417-05:00party pooper<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbp2QIM5ncC3i5Y6ESPcyYMXeb9GI3mlM2E6hO9zY8ksEdSuIoIHUIKQFJ4_TALwXYtRtm05h-aRcuPfhS2UVIlZFAxd2fnLVe77kuLb1tFFifWX6M88I9K92hSkbUYtZlmS17043C10I/s1600-h/IMG_3784.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbp2QIM5ncC3i5Y6ESPcyYMXeb9GI3mlM2E6hO9zY8ksEdSuIoIHUIKQFJ4_TALwXYtRtm05h-aRcuPfhS2UVIlZFAxd2fnLVe77kuLb1tFFifWX6M88I9K92hSkbUYtZlmS17043C10I/s200/IMG_3784.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5203032929810606146" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;">I rode home from a wedding in a cramped car last night, my body stretched across the back seat, across the laps of my best friend, my favorite gay man, and my ex. My head banged against the window every few seconds, but I was still drunk enough not to care. Today, I have a sizable bruise, kind of a goose egg and quite painful.<br /><br />Weddings always make me aggressive, which I hate. I <span style="font-style: italic;">want</span> to celebrate joy in the lives of people I love, but somehow that's just not possible for me. I have a hundred different theories as to why, but today the most compelling is that weddings represent how irrelevant I've become to whomever's getting married. The ceremony is a very real moment after which there is no doubt that I'm not the most important person in these people's lives... I'm not even in the top five. (Clearly I struggle with narscicism.) That thought gets me to thinking about the un-married people in my life and I realize I'm not that important to them either.<br /><br />At a certain point, as a single person in her mid-20s, I come up against the changing nature of all my friendships. I'm not that important to anyone and no one is that important to me. This is not to say I don't value relationships, but I'm not in daily contact with anyone these days (anyone who's not a cat). Things just aren't what they used to be, like back in those four glorious years known as college.<br /><br />I had a very meaningful conversation with my friend T(2) several months ago... we were talking about art and making art and how none of it is effortless. I wondered how he'd been able to survive as an artist against all odds, and he told me having a partner was probably the most significant factor. Well, shit. I guess that just gives me another reason to hate married people.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />P.S. It must be said that the wedding itself was amazing/beautiful/fun-filled; the bride was stunning, the food was quite tasty, and the booze was free.<br /></span>h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16799703305210168032noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6334015777505865851.post-16246235965465840712008-04-28T20:18:00.007-05:002008-05-02T19:04:41.627-05:00day off<span style="font-size:100%;"><a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5TSdLiSC_AlUQQca0w0v_uRb9wvZXpqKjj7QtB71gQ0hpyKPyNVpNBJBmSPf4-id9AIeT2husKyMC9iccue5pqTcldIzJ2nKNOAcJtnXzhch7evo_sFr4QoqzVvI5lPbrXhHno_VyN_w/s1600-h/IMG_3236.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5TSdLiSC_AlUQQca0w0v_uRb9wvZXpqKjj7QtB71gQ0hpyKPyNVpNBJBmSPf4-id9AIeT2husKyMC9iccue5pqTcldIzJ2nKNOAcJtnXzhch7evo_sFr4QoqzVvI5lPbrXhHno_VyN_w/s320/IMG_3236.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194434907513281602" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">as usual, i wasted my day off today. but in a good way.</span></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >i'm not sure why, but it's rainy and cold (39*F), so kitty and i have mostly stayed in bed, dozing and cuddling and getting annoyed at technology and pretending that we're going to fix the sewing machine later. i'm almost guilty, but not quite. i've never really been good at feeling good about doing nothing, but i'm working on it. i think when one is satisfied with one's life (or at least a few aspects of one's life), one feels better about cutting one's self slack. or maybe i just don't have a lot going on right now.</span><br /></span></span>h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16799703305210168032noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6334015777505865851.post-58131880736234531172008-04-28T11:00:00.003-05:002008-05-02T19:01:13.535-05:00i am not a rockandroll princess<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJ5crpkXKiSQp5HkiRuo2BghCPHkl_GDFU3mR6WL_6rY-0AR6JyWXYOZD44m3sDApQgvS6cTx5y6tDgYtQF4kBi4jd6Eh7U2iJAW8dnN7CtcShExv_SV9Rk5hyphenhyphenptHGLroL67Z4_H6EM8/s1600-h/IMG_3200.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 182px; height: 243px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJ5crpkXKiSQp5HkiRuo2BghCPHkl_GDFU3mR6WL_6rY-0AR6JyWXYOZD44m3sDApQgvS6cTx5y6tDgYtQF4kBi4jd6Eh7U2iJAW8dnN7CtcShExv_SV9Rk5hyphenhyphenptHGLroL67Z4_H6EM8/s320/IMG_3200.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194418792795986946" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" > well, here comes my second music related post. (truly, i do not see that many shows, but when i do see one/some, i have to have to have to t</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >alk about it/them.)<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" > A and K(2) </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >and I went t</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >o see Lord of the Yum Yum last night at Ronny's. All sorts of crazy things went down. First, a super </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >drunk guy yelled as us </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >as we rolled up on our </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >bikes (something like "I'm going to kill you on </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >your bikes!!") </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >and moments later was snared by the cops. He was out there getting ticketed for public </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >drunkeness for quite awhile. We headed</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" > in and I took a li</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >ttle detour </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1khF26KXTtQt097IiO0K0jsTV_CGut34hiIaLzQXyX4TJ91yMmM3gjDDH5Ciy7OsOLKGm7VFXg_THyVh1WrbtYAnKb-BTpA8DBJQD7MW1c13EewBmRGBNqd1IAiSN-cx7uRN5OFHSd3E/s1600-h/IMG_3210.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 236px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1khF26KXTtQt097IiO0K0jsTV_CGut34hiIaLzQXyX4TJ91yMmM3gjDDH5Ciy7OsOLKGm7VFXg_THyVh1WrbtYAnKb-BTpA8DBJQD7MW1c13EewBmRGBNqd1IAiSN-cx7uRN5OFHSd3E/s320/IMG_3210.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194418809975856162" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >to the potty, which was filthy, but very "green," having been decked out in flattened beer cans. Kinda neat. I eventually got a beer from a very very drunk</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >bartender, who was </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >simultaneously getting screamed at in Spanish by his also drunk </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >co-bartender/lady friend (she later broke her fist... she was sobbing as we left and the door</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" > guy was</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >calling for help). K(2) got the wrong beer, and </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >A got a b</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >e</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >er for $1. The opening "band" was terrible, as openers can </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >sometimes be. Everyone in the </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >v</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >enue (20 </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >people) was</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" > there to </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >see Lord of the Yum Yum.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEQ1CK-APBQ7hIqBbgIbs_Pbxus-1EAqVbdx-1bnZDnZtZHFT4xMjiQ2JHxUQvkbPpjvoc-lHPPXgaH_4Zb5nKQXqbkHwBk1q5NB3k1FlyihuglB4sk7iyYSmvcpMPgPCJn_EcJDdnltY/s1600-h/IMG_3215.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 184px; height: 245px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEQ1CK-APBQ7hIqBbgIbs_Pbxus-1EAqVbdx-1bnZDnZtZHFT4xMjiQ2JHxUQvkbPpjvoc-lHPPXgaH_4Zb5nKQXqbkHwBk1q5NB3k1FlyihuglB4sk7iyYSmvcpMPgPCJn_EcJDdnltY/s320/IMG_3215.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194418801385921554" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >I had never enco</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >untered this Yum Yum guy before... A saw him somewhere awhile back and was </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >uber-stoked to be seeing him again. I had no idea what I was getting into. He turned out to b</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >e a total showman. I was hooked from the first moment. He totally worked the (tiny) crowd and then mixed (</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >live) these amazing beats based on classical pieces. Super down to earth </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >and totally unlike anything I've seen before. Just </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >this g</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >angly, beat-boxing, powder-blue suit wearing, pasty, 30-something guy preforming his ass off.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" > I talked to him after for about 30 seconds and it </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqjXt-HeFmRB6POvNxdMjCmJMcu8qn6SYtQqqS2VtQdflLbuQwERoLXFVG-lYI1MNPzqStbNr3pTLq3tAtPofgPSwq_nhXXfY1NkkhFCqu2KUvbxC_jppmgPXCcRxNtI4wfOpl9jzvdU4/s1600-h/IMG_3219.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 184px; height: 243px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqjXt-HeFmRB6POvNxdMjCmJMcu8qn6SYtQqqS2VtQdflLbuQwERoLXFVG-lYI1MNPzqStbNr3pTLq3tAtPofgPSwq_nhXXfY1NkkhFCqu2KUvbxC_jppmgPXCcRxNtI4wfOpl9jzvdU4/s320/IMG_3219.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194418814270823474" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >turns o</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >ut he's an elementary school </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >teacher...he teaches general music. Kids would love this</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" > shit! We kept wondering if Yum Yum is </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >his secret </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >side project </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >or if he uses th</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >is stuff in the classroom. Do his students know how awesome their teacher </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >really is?<br /><br />It was hard to get any accurate photos, </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >particularly because Yum Yum is a perpetual motion machine, as </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >evidenced. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" ><span>Definitely check this guy out live... he doesn't play often, but it's worth hunting him down.</span><br /><br /><span>As an aside, I really hate blogger, but have yet to find another host that I don't also hate. Who knew it would be so hard to arrange four images in a row on the left? Sorry this looks like shit. I'm bad at technology.</span></span>h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16799703305210168032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6334015777505865851.post-11827594724524368802008-04-25T22:00:00.003-05:002008-05-02T19:00:11.322-05:00this is not a music blog but<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiruaLmDnBN9C4MyLpYtQ6UsuNXL9FhtlYsGPZwQruLPRIpT9dH0BExxoEcAJXF8ftMysJcLW-ZrhyphenhyphenR4fFMEjPnDcnzLVUBURSlY2jf7vH5IlvUgTZvujkrlZrmjH6tLsTMLqumLCLYd8A/s1600-h/IMG_3230.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiruaLmDnBN9C4MyLpYtQ6UsuNXL9FhtlYsGPZwQruLPRIpT9dH0BExxoEcAJXF8ftMysJcLW-ZrhyphenhyphenR4fFMEjPnDcnzLVUBURSlY2jf7vH5IlvUgTZvujkrlZrmjH6tLsTMLqumLCLYd8A/s320/IMG_3230.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194414661037448146" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" >K(1) reminded me</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" > t</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" >hat Half-Handed Cloud was playing at Berry Church on Thursday night. We had seen him preform a few years (or more than a few years...) back at our college. I was deeply in love at the time but had had my heart trounced (thrashed, shit on, what-have-you). I'm sure this is an exaggeration but the night of that show is the first good night I can recall, post-heartbreak. I can remember how tired, just sapped of energy, I was; the way my mouth tasted from not really eati</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" >ng much and surviving on cigarettes for months; what I was wearing (oversized red-orange woolly sweater, borrowed from the very tall M(2)). I can remember how chaotic the music was, how fast and odd and accompanied by props. I hadn't really seen anything like it and I was so happy to be temporarily in the circle of this guy's creativity. Man, that was one sweet </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" >show, the kind where you just grin and grin and grin.<br /><br />So, of course, this week's show did not quite measure up, but still, it was good music. Very communal, close, spazzy. He played some of </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" ><span style="">the same songs he'd played that first night, years ago, and by association, i started thinking about love, something I forget is a real thing. Sitting there hearing that music, surrounded by old friends who I rarely see anymore, rocking out in the basement of my church to truly positive music... it was a very holistic experience, working on way to many levels. I was drunk with thoughts, none of which coherently made it out of me in any form. Thoughts about collaboration; vicarious metaphysical creativity, a massive unified creative conscience; how sometimes two people actually do fall in real love and are better for it; and on and on. I wanted to put my hands on everyone in the room... it was like Woodstock. For lack of a better way to describe my mindset, I will offer this rare excerpt from my notebook, written late, late that night:</span><span style=""><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />By now, I am all alphabetic stitches</span><span style=""> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">and jumbles upon jumbles of</span><span style=""> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">songs in the making - </span> <span style="font-style: italic;">I think only my Miraculous Jesus would be willing</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> to add himself to this mess.</span><span style=""> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">By now, I breathe in and out b/c I</span><span style=""> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">know one day I'll get to stop.</span><span style=""> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Heaven is like a dream</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">only things make more sense and</span><span style=""> </span><span style="font-style: italic;">seem real (b/c probably the are).</span><span style=""><br /><br /></span><span style="">After many failed attempts to upload video of the show, this picture is going to have to suffice. Maybe video later?</span><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1T2kKfgj17bFF17BiWOQ_Hg_mP6xahashjSRt3GFk-fQuBThzzvT5wd7xxSg6QvXigVoTmWz342mQRa8gPy45_onn8JUkXunghS6Xpy8wsSDkgqzlr84yGc7g9j7fHzqRDZFPoL07-Q0/s1600-h/IMG_2971.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1T2kKfgj17bFF17BiWOQ_Hg_mP6xahashjSRt3GFk-fQuBThzzvT5wd7xxSg6QvXigVoTmWz342mQRa8gPy45_onn8JUkXunghS6Xpy8wsSDkgqzlr84yGc7g9j7fHzqRDZFPoL07-Q0/s320/IMG_2971.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194415051879472098" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><br /></span></span></span></span>h.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16799703305210168032noreply@blogger.com0