Wait (For Me)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KPSwumtGGAc&feature=related

"I know I have a strength to move a hill

I can hardly leave my room
So I'll sit perfecty still
And I'll listen for a tune
While my mind is on the moon"

The lyrics are simple, the message is simple, the rhythm is simple. But when you listen to it over and over and over and over and over again "please wait for me"- it just fucking breaks you. I first happened upon this song in the summer, after seeing the hit and miss, "Away We Go." Immediately when I heard the song in the last five, resolutional minutes of the flim, I liked it. It seemed very Murdoch- and it is. But, it also happens to be some of the best work he's done. I loved the song in the summer, assuming I understood it, but I didn't, fully.  I advise you, dear friend, to get this shit on your ipod, drive down an abandoned stretch of road, roll every window down, and blast it. Let the bass beat your heart for you. Listen to the entire song, especially the ending, because the build-up will have you gripping the freezing wheel with white knuckles. Trust me, you won't be shivering from the cold. 

Half-Way Whole Goals

1. Guest-star on an episode of Law & Order: SVU and get it on with Elliot. 

2. Perform covers in a nostalgic coffee shop and tell everyone the name is Charlie Waltz.

3. Direct, write, and submit a film to Sundance.

4. Fall in love with someone who doesn't speak English and have them understand how you feel. 

5. Guest-star on any FoodNetwork show and fuck shit up.

6. Get a short story published in da New Yorker.

7. Have the balls to do what I want in my career. 

"All of me is waiting for you to touch the center of me with the center of you." 

Sense & Sensibility

How- how can you judge someone else's

happiness? 

-Bits from the work.

"Who were these people, anyways? Henry was loud, tending to yell over a crowd of inconnus he just generalized in his fiery haze as sure and steady fools he couldn’t give a shit about. At parties, girls grew on him like perennial moss. They didn’t ask questions, didn’t really even carry conversations. He was tall, and gave everyone the assumption that he was someone of importance. And who would yell across the house without a slight reason, unless they were someone of consequence?

It’s not like I had placed myself here. We were all standing around the counter, laughing, looking, leaning into each other’s warming egos. Mid-laugh I choke, and something in the dark of me comes crawling out and looks at the picture it sees in the stillborn hours of the morning. I am genuinely laughing, swallowing every part of them, but what do I actually think of them? Are they people I consider friends-- or am I not really friends with them but just like them as people? I’m talking to Kennedy- but- ah- what is wrong with-? the flow of our conversation is so unnatural and off- I just can’t- what!- I don’t even know what we're talking about. We both speak at the same time, turning different pages. And so I close my book and walk away."

A Skull & Cross-Bones in the Sky

I don't know if it's always been like this or that I've just become aware of this lately, but I'm that person. That glue, that sticky-marshmallow-between-two-graham-crackers-paste, that stuff. That stuff that makes people feel relieved, alright, and almost always- happy. 

When a new couple is testing out the unknown waters of their first public appearance as a "couple:" how nervous and hopeful they are, bent on touching the moon but scared out of their minds that it will just laugh and come crumbling down on top of them once they are fingertips away from holding it. I am the entertainment, so to speak. I break the awkwardness, with my goofy, around-the-world stories and imitations of others. I break the invisible veil of unsureness and insecurity and they laugh and sigh with more relief than they let appear. They take my entertaining bullshit as a concrete seal, silencing the questions and what-ifs that are written all over their unsteady body language, and let themselves be directed to the golden boulevard of "couple-dom." And you know, they don't even look back. 

For some reason, my rising presence is the secret, unspoken hint of approval that they will be able to be a "them" at all. It's a big fucking deal. Well, not really, but I like to think it is. I mean, I could stop and just stand there and stare and be awkward and make them feel really uncomfortable. And for a split-second, they're both going to wonder if it's actually going to work, if it's actually worth it. I could do that. A split-second doesn't seem like that big of a deal in the big picture. 

But actually, what so many people don't realize and will never know, is that the big picture is what it's all about. The big picture is when you've reached the moon and you look to your right and that person you've been hoping, dreaming, dying, dying, dying, to see- is right next to you, and you're holding and cradling each other. You're not able to say or do anything except just squeeze each other and let what is left unsaid pulse through your fingertips, over and over. And when you look them fully in the face, what you see in their eyes is more than all of the words you have read in your life. Pure euphoria. And you don't even realize where you are...until...you....look.....around... You look around and you see the whole world before you. The whole fucking world. 

And that's why I can't help but do it. Because everyone deserves to find that whole, unruly, unfathomable feeling that only exists when you're over the moon. 

"Two drifters off to see the world....There's such a lot of world to see."

Meet me...in Montauk...

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! 

                                 The world forgetting, by the world forgot.

                                                                        Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! 

    Each prayer accepted, and each wish resigned. 

IKEA Quality

The people of your heart are heartbreakingly in harmony, singing the chorus of "Chicago" to the people of his heart of hearts. 

"You came to take us. 

                                        All things go, all things go. 

To recreate us. 

                                     All things grow, all things grow. 

We had our mindset. 

                                  All things know, all things know. 

You had to find it. 

                              All things go, all things go."

Sound that Swims Through Your Veins and Love

MUSIC, MAN. 

So, there is phenomenal, novelty music coming to a car, ipod, and (hopefully) concert speaker near you. 

1. First of all, Weekend of the Vampires. And I'm not fucking talking about that New Moon bullshit. I am speaking of the elastic, spiraling sound that comes from The Ezra Koenig and Co. I have only listened to "Cousins" and "Horchata" from their much-anticipated sophomore album "Contra," however, they're fucking ace. And the music video for "Cousins"- shitfuck. 

2. Next-> Mister Jack White. Hello. Hello. Helllllllllllo. I've missed you. Don't know much about this except that they will be recording new shit at the end of 2009 and a hopelessly-needed new album should be the product of White's delicious fruit. 

3. Marina and the Diamonds- Brilliant. Lyrics like, "Ten silver spoons coming after me, one life with one dream on repeat." Even shooting up a Star Wars' adage into the pulsing, ignorant vein of pure, harmonic bliss "Do or do not, there is no try." YESS. The result? Tori Amos? Nah. Regina Spektor? No. The Wales native is not naiive to the note-bursting, key-topping music of those populars mentioned above. Nothing like it. What's it like? It's chaos, it's watermelons- IT'S EVERYTHING. 

Recommended: +I'm not a Robot

     +Mowgli's Road

     +Obsessions

"It strolls our veins so effortless, and keeps us entertained and interested."   -   Living

And I Can't Lift You Up cause my mind is tired

A smog

of sawdust and cigarette smoke penetrates my nose.

 Groaning stairs beneath my feet voice

 my concerns.

 A tired

hall welcomes me

with the illumination of lights and faces.

Beneath the enlightenment lies a constellation

 of humanity: wishing

 to find themselves through the bar and the dancing.

The generated air is stale,

 and dying

to be let out.

It’s trapped, as desperate as young children

who yearn to be older.

Its quiet companion,

 the walls, don’t give away any of the stories they’ve witnessed and

cradled these many years.

Tornadoes of nostalgia,

people old and young are creeping on the past.

Every muscle, every bone, is moved

by love.

Leaping and diving with every fiber

of their beings,

bodies sing and swoon with

the fullness of tomorrow.

Duke Ellington,

maharishi,

begs us to stay just a little longer.

I'm Glad I'm Not Gonna Be That Kid

Did you just insult me with Patrick Park lyrics ?

Is It Ever Easy?

Bits from the work. 

It brought her back to that swirling, cathartic time she spent the night in the tent in Leigh’s backyard. It was raving, spitting rain that took its last wind of ravage on the little tent that could. All seven goons had left except for her and her quite possibly narcoleptic friend, Clare.  The tent had all but completely collapsed; the roof balancing on an invisible tightrope an inch above her face. And with Clare swooning in her dormant unconscious, she felt completely alone. It was swollen heat, selfishly adapting to every nook and cranny of her personal space in the tent. At any given moment, the storm fighting and letting down on the tent’s emaciated coat above her, she felt like she could die. It was so awkward, yet realistic: it was the one sincere moment in her life she could keep, think back on, and remember as a time she had survived within her thoughts. 

Wait. They Don't Love You Like I Love You.

I don't know what I want to do with my life, but I know what I like to do. And somehow I need to translate that into a concrete career 

Peace(bone) with You

To-DO List:

1. Do good. 

2. Go into the wild. 

3. Make a birth certificate for Lil' Heaven. 

4. Walk on sunshine.

5. Make other people feel important.

6. Get a short story published.
7. Learn how to play Beirut, Animal Collective, and Neutral Milk Hotel on guitar and make some covers. 

8. Get my shit together for speech.

9. Develop the Jamal language.

10. Rock and roll. 

This Year's Love

There's one thing I'd like to say, so I'll be brave:

You were what I wanted, I gave what I gave.

I'm not sorry I met you,

I'm not sorry it's over,

I'm not sorry there's nothing to say.

I'm not sorry there's nothing to say. 

Now it's day, I've been trying to get that taste off my tongue

It's so weird when you dream about someone. Like a ridiculously vivid, awkward dream involving a person you maybe hooked up with one time last year and don't speak to anymore or maybe lent a pen to in class that one time...that person. And the dream itself is pretty fucked up and usually involves a sail-boat, small, Chinese men and murder- but it all just makes sense. You know. 

But the weirdest part of the whole thing is not even the dream itself or the infamous, fuckin' rando guest star, it's what happens after the dream. And I swear on my failing, flailing, falling body that you will have some weird run-in with your "guest star" post-dream. And when you do, you're going to freak out. When you see them, they will look at you like "Dude, why the fuck was I in your dream last night?!" Like they fucking know. And they do. Not really. But in your dreamer daze, you're paranoid and wonder why you seriously had a dream about them and if they ever have dreams about you. Because that's, like, so fucking creepy. Right? Or is it cool and maybe even a little romantic?

"In Dreams Begin Responsibilities."

Everything Happens

In New York.

"People are crazy and times are strange, 

I'm locked in tight, I'm out of range,

I used to care but...things have changed."

It's not good anymore. 

I've been doing way too much...stuff. Stuff that accumulates into the typical "collegiate experience." But all of this, it's just not good. Two semi-pseudo-interventions later, I finally kinda sorta see what's going on. For the past two or so weeks, I've been huffing and puffing myself out. Every fucking day. I don't even know why, I just don't fucking care. I don't even care about this post, I'm just posting this emo shit because I need to pinpoint and record this fleeting, concrete feeling. And what could that be? Fucking indifference. When you are so fucking close to getting that one thing- love- and it...just...doesn't....come.....together- it reaches inside of you and takes it out of every fiber of your being. (Basically, it sucks). And it sucks even more than having it with somebody, and losing it. Because at least then, you have an actual womb of memories to cling to in the infant hours of the morning when you're alone. And I don't know about you, but that's a hell of a lot more than the silent killer, "what if?" A hell of a lot more. 

So, I found myself tonight in the ever-perennially long line of students waiting to inhale some grub late at night. I saw one of those "hey, what's up? nothing, you?" friends sitting alone, so focused, studying. I had some glorious white widow waiting for me in Bobby's car with my friends. (Obviously a good time). And yet, I was so fucking envious of that girl studying. To find that motivation, hope, and belief- and then be able to keep it- is something that is so beyond me. I can't hold onto anything. 

On another note, da White Stripes have some new shit out. finally.

And another, PBS has gotten into the habit of featuring olddd school Bill Cosby stand-up stuff late at night. So old school, it's pre-ugly-sweater era. Creepy. 

"Should've known you'd bring me heartache, almost lovers always do." - dece song, ace words. 

Jade?

Alexander...

Do you remember that day you fell outta my window?

I sure do you came jumping out after me.

Well, you fell on the concrete and nearly broke your ass and you were bleeding all over the place so i rushed you off to the hospital. Do you remember that?

Yes I do.

Well, there's something I didn't tell you about that night.

What didn't you tell me?

While you were sitting in the backseat smoking a cigarette you thought was gonna be your last, 

I was falling deep, deeply in love with you, and I never told you til just now.

Next time you look back, you should look again

Expectations ->vs.<-Reality

This movie. Shit. Fuck. I saw this movie probably 3 months ago, and I still can't get over it. Like a good ex, it will delicately wait in your subconscious only to resurface and pop back into your life out of nowhere and hit you hard. BAM. And without questioning, you'll dust if off and pop it in the player and go down memory lane remembering all the good stuff, then like a swift punch in the gut like only a good ex can, it'll break your heart all over again.

"It's love, it's not Santa Clause."

Omaha's Skyline

As I gaze out my window at the bustling, sophisticated, “'SkerNation” city that lies before me, I am somehow reminded of home. Kansas City is another city delusional enough to think it’s metropolitan chic.

Full of pride, Omaha displays a skyline that basically peaks at “Woodmen.” To say that Omaha is an underrated and overlooked Chicago is a flat out lie. I have no problem with Omaha. However, the sound of feet hitting cobblestone in the Old Market quarter is the only note hit on key in the ballad of Omaha.
Alright, for Nebraska, Omaha might be a high class municipality; as is Kansas City to Kansas. But no one goes to Omaha to “live the dream.” And those who do won’t find it.
But they do find something else. The underground indie music scene of Omaha also rings true. There’s a concert almost every night, with indie gems such as “The Silver Jews” and “The Nashville Pussy,” as well as Led Zeppelin cover bands.
But when that still leaves you industrially hungry, look no farther than “Eagles 38.” Yes, although sometimes mistaken for a homeless shelter, do not be thrown off by the nostalgia-drenched aura of this swing dance club/bar. Obviously it’s not up to “The 40-40” club standards of New York City, but the refreshing thing is, it’s not trying to be. (Duke Ellington is also pretty ace). 
No matter what “la la land” Omaha is living in, I also live there. Whenever I am homesick for back home: my elegant, barbeque-brainwashed Kansas City, all I have to do is look out my window. I don’t even need to arch my neck to see the finite horizon of Omaha. But that is what’s the best part of Omaha: it challenges you to be creative.

10 Songs That Make You Feel Good

MONSTER Muse Ick:

1. "Maple Leaves" - Jens Lekman

2. "Sweet Disposition" - The Temper Trap

3. "Home" - Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes

4. "On the Bus Mall" - The Decemberists

5. "Fireworks" - Animal Collective

6. "1979" - Smashing Pumpkins

7. "Mansard Roof" - Vampire Weekend

8. "Kissing the Lipless" - The Shins

9. "Heavy Metal Drummer" - Wilco

10. "The Rain Song" - Led Zeppelin

(Bonus Track) "Confessions Parts I & II" - Usher

If all else fails, go to http://www.popthatzit.com . Oddly, it makes you feel just as good.