Month: May 2004

“who are you calling for? Is that me?”

The phone just rang me from sleep and my dreams soaked in so much I didn’t know who it was or even where I was. I love how I had that, knew it, and didn’t mind it one bit. “As you just woke me up, I have a very small list of who you might be.”
It was Bill, by the way. A warning to those who dislike him. He’ll be stopping by briefly tomorrow evening, please be friendly.

they’ve given me a favorite child

Again with the soaking.

I arrived here with my teeth chattering so much that I just immediatly shucked off my clothes. Adrian kindly donated his big fluffy bathrobe and made me tea. The bone castenets were quieter than the show I’d just come from, and a little bit more interesting. Shane was amazing. He’d jokingly dedicated the show to me in the downstairs, but it was far too perfect to be for me. Wonderful as always, the crowd actually let out a collective gasp at a particularly good line, but there wasn’t anything else there to catch and hold attention. There was a fellow who made mixloops on stage with a digerido, which was interesting, but he insisted on rapping on top of it, which made it less so. I was there with Sophie & Dominique, who also only came to see The Shane. He got a standing ovation, so I don’t feel I have to go on about it any more.

I’d started my day with Jeff. Meeting at Joe’s, than walking up the Drive. We talked for a bit about this and that and nothing, then he gave my my birthday present. I was surprised, then speechless. He’s given me his black painting of the girl and the cat. The painting that I always loved so much that lived at Placebo. I’m a little bit in awe of that, still don’t know what to say past thank you. He’s leaving tomorrow for the year. *waves to Jeff* We’ll miss you fellow. Send pictures!

sweet like sex-drenched honeysuckle

Marc got back to me sometime this evening with the translation of the Emilie Simon lyrics. *smiles* Now I know they’re wicked.

This is what I got from Babelfish after some tinkering:

For a little you I leave without hesitating All at the end of the world over the roof at the top Marks you path with scattered seeds beneath the opal stars, Over your But way in the crowd there’s only one beneath the opal stars, Over your way Along your kidneys A just little voice, a breath to suggest letting You imagine the fall J’ai strewn, j’ai deposited, of the seeds d’étoiles opals On your way J’ai strewn, j’ai deposited, of the seeds d’étoiles opals On your way Along your kidneys

This is what it actually translates to:

for just a little of you, i’d leave without hesitation
to the ends of the earth, to its height, its summit
Marks your path with scattered seeds beneath the opal stars
on your path
but in the crowd there’s only one beneath the opal stars
on your path
the length of your loins
just a whisper (lit: little voice),  a breath to suggest
so you imagine the fall
i’ve spread the seeds of opal stars upon your path
i’ve spread the seeds of opal stars upon your path
the length of your loins.

 

I love it.

flowing like poetic wine

Tomorrow Jeff leaves for Japan. Today I’m to meet up with him at Joe’s for 2, thus continuing my ‘hitting the Drive every day’ pattern. One week down. Yesterday I just squeaked in a visit by going to Wazubi’s for food after Rasputina.  I really think I need to move back there.  I talked to Chetan yesterday and hassled him to put the board back up at Sweet Cherabim.  It’s the place to find the sort of room for rent adverts that I answer. I hope friendship is enough leverage to move that rock.  I need to live somewhere barefeet can go to buy groceries, where I’ve got some memories. Hackysack circles, water balloons, coffeeshop backrooms, concerts in the park, parades at night. Spinning fire and Brenda.  A list of names to tie me to. A list of days to make me free.

Rasputina

Rasputina was last night at Sonar. I’ve never been there before, but I must say it’s a nice space. I would love to live somewhere with that set-up. There was horrible canned skater rockypop playing when we arrived. The opener was an odd choice. He opened brilliantly. A solo artist in a white suit, complete with caramel ribboned fedora,  playing the microphone to sound as if he was singing to us from an old record cut in the 1950’s. He didn’t live up to it. A middle aged crooner with uninspired lovesongs and an annoying penchant for twanging harshly on the one string that wasn’t tuned.  I appaluded when he left the stage. Then there was an unexpected fifteen minute break until when Rasputina finally made thier entrance. They made up for it.

They came through the crowd making room with thier cellos. Antique huzzah tunes swelled, and the crowds attention solidified onto the stage, not to look away until they were done. The music was stunning.  No space for dancing in that packed close sea of black, but oh! the music. The sheer swing and warmth of it! The lighting camera flashes with the crash of cello thunder. I was perched atop a stack speaker and so could see the stage. Melora and Zoey were beautiful and thier drummer simply skillful. They ended with a cover of Wish You Were Here that’s caught at me. I’m converted, a follower for life.

Ian is driving down to Seattle today to catch thier concert there and I dearly wish I could go with him. If it were tomorrow I would have said yes. I would toss away the Terracotta Warriors and flee to beauty. But tonight is Shane’s CD release party with Dominique and so it’s not to be. I dearly hope he gets to have his girl along. I told him to tie her up with licorice string and so by the time she’d eaten her way from her bonds, they would be almost to the border.