Accordion

12.30.2008

This is Miami, home of the MetroZoo.  Lyrics appended:

Artist  MF Doom Video  Ron Paley – Dance Of The Comedians

Livin’ off borrowed time, the clock tick faster
That’d be the hour they knock the slick blaster
Dick Dastardly and Muttley with sick laughter
A gun fight and they come to cut the mixmaster
I-C-E cold, nice to be old
Y2G steed twice to threefold
He sold scrolls, lo and behold
Know who’s the illest ever like the greatest story told
Keep your glory, gold and glitter
For have half of his niggaz’ll take him out the picture
The other half is rich and don’t mean shit-ta
Villain a mixture between both with a twist of liquor
Chase it with more beer, taste it like truth or dare
When he have the mic it’s like the place get like: ‘Ah yeah!’
It’s like they know what’s ’bout to happen
Just keep ya eye out, like ‘aye, aye captain’
Is he still a fly guy clappin’ if nobody ain’t hear it
And can they testify from inner spirit
In living, the true gods
Givin’ y’all nothing but the lick like two broads
Got more lyrics than the church got ‘Ooh Lords’
And he hold the mic and your attention like two swords
Or even one with two blades on it
Hey you, don’t touch the mic like it’s AIDS on it
It’s like the end to the means
Fucked type of message that sends to the fiends
That’s why he brings his own needles
And get more cheese than Doritos, Cheetos or Fritos..
Slip like Freudian
Your first and last step to playin’ yourself like accordion
(Humming)
When he had the mic you don’t go next
Leaving pussy cats like wild hoes need Kotex
Exercise index won’t need Boflex
And won’t take the one with no skinny legs like Joe Tex


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photo by chris

photo by chris h

It came from a split second thought, occurring at the moment the three girls broke into a run in the narrow Parisian alleyway that late afternoon, which could have been an instinctual reaction, had the visual stimuli not reached my mind, but it did, and it was only much later on after this event that I realized that in that split second my mind was able to see the picture already, as if the picture, this picture in my mind that would be taken a split second in the future, projected itself onto reality, from my mind, through the nerves and the muscles and my eyes, I somehow calibrated the proper exposure, the shutter speed that would not completely freeze the motion of the three girls but leave a slight blur to perfectly capture their essence – akin to a violinist’s vibrato that vibrates between two near pitches to give birth to the one in between – and at the same time move my arms to frame the composition, trying to move it in beat with the three girls, hoping to instill a sense of movement and excitement through a slight blurring of the background, and yet keeping focus on the expression of their faces in that split-second of pure joy and freedom of youth extended out to eternity through the medium of film, and in one swift burst, ultimately reduced to the single click of the shutter-release, that split-second was immortalized such that those who look upon this picture henceforth will experience the joy of the subjects and intuit, even if subconsciously, the path backwards:  the aesthetics that hint at the conditions in which the photo was composed, that hint at how it was composed, that hint at the photographer’s thoughts and feelings at that very moment on a cool November day in 2008 as he wandered the streets of Paris, his own joy in being free mirrored in the three girls breaking into a run in the alleyway.

words by chris h


A second collaboration between the great “Beirut” and director Alma Harel.  From the album “The Gulag Orkestar.”  Lyrics appended:

Beirut

The times we had
Oh, when the wind would blow with rain and snow
Were not all bad
We put our feet just where they had, had to go
Never to go

The shattered soul
Following close but nearly twice as slow
In my good times
There were always golden rocks to throw
at those who admit defeat too late
Those were our times, those were our times

And I will love to see that day
That day is mine
When she will marry me outside with the willow trees
And play the songs we made
They made me so
And I would love to see that day
Her day was mine


I like finding one video that influences another.  For me the discovery is on par with stumbling upon a minor truth.

Here’s video #1 with lyrics appended:

My Morning Jacket

Watchin’ a stretch of road, miles of light explode.
Driftin’ off a thing I’d never done before
watchin’ a crowd roll in.
Out go the lights it begins, a feelin’ in my bones I never felt before…
mmm… people always told me, that bars are dark and lonely
and talk is often cheap and filled with air. Sure sometimes they thrill me
but nothin’ could ever chill me.
Like the way they make the time just disappear
feelin’ you are here again.
Hot on my skin again.
Feelin good a thing I’d never known before
what does it mean to feel? millions of dreams come real
a feelin’ in my soul I’d never felt before… mmm…
and you always told me.
No matter how long it holds me if it falls apart
or makes us millonaires.
You’ll be right here forever.
We’ll go thru this thing together
and on heaven’s golden shore we’ll lay our heads

Now, here’s video #2, Subterranean Homesick Blues, with lyrics appended.  And yes, Ginsberg and Neuwirth do make a cameo:

Bob Dylan

Johnny’s in the basement
Mixing up the medicine
I’m on the pavement
Thinking about the government
The man in the trench coat
Badge out, laid off
Says he’s got a bad cough
Wants to get it paid off
Look out kid
It’s somethin’ you did
God knows when
But you’re doin’ it again
You better duck down the alley way
Lookin’ for a new friend
The man in the coon-skin cap
In the big pen
Wants eleven dollar bills
You only got ten

Maggie comes fleet foot
Face full of black soot
Talkin’ that the heat put
Plants in the bed but
The phone’s tapped anyway
Maggie says that many say
They must bust in early May
Orders from the D. A.
Look out kid
Don’t matter what you did
Walk on your tip toes
Don’t try “No Doz”
Better stay away from those
That carry around a fire hose
Keep a clean nose
Watch the plain clothes
You don’t need a weather man
To know which way the wind blows

Get sick, get well
Hang around a ink well
Ring bell, hard to tell
If anything is goin’ to sell
Try hard, get barred
Get back, write braille
Get jailed, jump bail
Join the army, if you fail
Look out kid
You’re gonna get hit
But users, cheaters
Six-time losers
Hang around the theaters
Girl by the whirlpool
Lookin’ for a new fool
Don’t follow leaders
Watch the parkin’ meters

Ah get born, keep warm
Short pants, romance, learn to dance
Get dressed, get blessed
Try to be a success
Please her, please him, buy gifts
Don’t steal, don’t lift
Twenty years of schoolin’
And they put you on the day shift
Look out kid
They keep it all hid
Better jump down a manhole
Light yourself a candle
Don’t wear sandals
Try to avoid the scandals
Don’t wanna be a bum
You better chew gum
The pump don’t work
‘Cause the vandals took the handles


An afternoon drive

12.27.2008

photo by chris h

photo by chris h

Her perfume smelt of rosewood: a natural, earthy smell punctuated with a faint sweetness recalling, of course, a rose. Our eyes were closed only because our lips were millimeters apart.  Such proximity allowed me to feel her calming presence. With her smells, her warmth, and her tenderness, I could not move, I did not want to leave, I did not want to do anything else except keep my face near these things that made the world so very peaceful for the moment.

Read the rest of this entry »

The greatest

12.25.2008

There is a similarity between this video in a bowling alley and the video in a sushi restaurant for “Elephants in the playground”, which is posted here.

Lyrics appended:

Cat Power

Once I wanted to be the greatest
No wind of waterfall could stall me
And then came the rush of the flood
Stars of night turned deep to dust

Melt me down
Into big black armour
Leave no trace of grace
Just in your honour
Lower me down
To culprit south
Make ’em wash a space in town
For the lead
And the dregs of my bed
I’ve been sleepin’
Lower me down
Pin me in
Secure the grounds
For the later parade

Once I wanted to be the greatest
Two fists of solid rock
With brains that could explain
Any feeling

Lower me down
Pin me in
Secure the grounds
For the lead
And the dregs of my bed
I’ve been sleepin’
For the later parade

Once I wanted to be the greatest
No wind of waterfall could stall me
And then came the rush of the flood
Stars of night turned deep to dust


Del sounds good

12.24.2008

photo by chris

photo by chris h

Playing on the Net
The Killers – “Goodnight, travel well”
I like their old stuff more.
Next song:
Kanye West – “Into the night”
He just switched things up
Kanye’s not a rapper anymore
Yeah, Kanye sounds like Wilson Phillips depressed
Third:
Del Tha Funky Homosapien kissing the speaker wire.
Is this Del
This is Del.
Del sounds good:
“Always supporting my pals, and that’s more important than making a thousand dollars.”
This is Miami, home of the MetroZoo


Intuition

12.23.2008

Drum karaoke:

Here’s the polished cut with lyrics appended:

Top video:  Jonathan Garcia Bottom video:  Feist

What gives, what helps
The Intuition
I’ll know, I’ll know
(Oh) I won’t have to be shown
The way home
And it’s not about a boy
Although, although

They can lead you
Hide or reveal too

A destination known
Only by the one
Whose fate is overgrown
Piecemeal could break your home
And have
A love is not complete
With only heat

They can tease you
Break or complete you

And in came a heatwave
A merciful save
You choose, you chose
Poetry over prose

A map is more unreal
(Oh) Than where you’ve been
Or how you feel
And it’s impossible to tell
How important something was
And what you might have missed out on
And how it might have changed it all

Did I, did I
Did I, did I
Did I, did I


When I realized what was going on, I appreciated the idea behind this video.  The old man near the beginning makes me laugh every time.  Enjoy:

Victor Malloy


How it ends

12.21.2008

Saw this commercial one day and had to give the whole song a listen:

Here it is perfromed live on Morning Becomes Eclectic:

Here’s the polished cut with lyrics appended:

Devotchka

Hold your grandmother’s Bible to your breast.
Gonna put it to the test.
You want it to be blessed. And in your heart, you know it to be true.
You know what you gotta do.
They all depend on you.
And you already know.
Yeah, you already know how this will end.
There is no escape,
From the slave-catchers’ songs.
For all of the loved ones gone.
Forevers not so long. And in your soul,
They poked a million holes.
But you never let em show.
C’mon it’s time to go. And you already know.
Yeah, you already know how this will end.
Now you’ve seen his face. And you know that there’s a place, in the sun, for all that you’ve done, for you and your children.
No longer shall you need.
You always wanted to believe,
Just ask and you’ll receive,
Beyond your wildest dreams.
And You Already know.
Yeah, you already know
How this will end.
You already know (You already know)
You already know (you already know)
You already know-how this will end.


google-tisp-snapshot1Was browsing the Net at 4 AM and came across this promising page.


Myopic books

12.15.2008

art-37Spent half the morning asleep and half the afternoon blogging.  Not sure if it’s healthy to let this activity consume a fraction of your day.  It’s a one-sided way of communicating, to be sure, but still I do enjoy the act of self-publishing. Read the rest of this entry »

To make paper

12.13.2008

art-raphael-turtleI’ve returned to living strictly indoors.  Bridget joined me today.  She did research on how to make paper.  According to her, it is pretty easy once you get the supplies, which aren’t too numerous or costly. Read the rest of this entry »