A while back I got all these old maps at an auction. Probably at least 50 of them. Almost all of them on canvass, mounted to woooden rods top and bottom, and each one kept rolled by a fixed purple shoe string. They were from the 50s and many up to say 7ft long and equally tall. I promised some to my mate Corey in return for a personaly designed Smitty Baby logo. Well finally we both found the time to make true on my promise. We threw open my storage door to greet and explore the long past purchased maps that I had never gotten around to excavating. About half way through the pile, when we had to take a break from the dust and black mold spores floating in the illy ventilated garage, we realized that each one of these were individualy a treasure. However, due to the context of the quantity, and hopefully not the floating moldspores, we had been numbed to their individual thrill. We agreed that finding a mere one of the maps in a yard sale or thrift shop would be more than an evening supper tale. Well I don’t truly know where I’m going with this story, except that this weekend I saw adolecent to small children play with a $1.50 blue plastic ball from lack of choices like it was Halo 3. Tonight I was captured.. truly captured..by a melody that played like a broken record on the menu of a DVD (Brothers Bloom). And I believe it was the inability to covet another from circumstance that made the experiences so unique. My favorite thing in music school was the latter semesters of music theory. We would take a small exerpt of a really juicy piece of music from the likes of Liszt or Bach and dissect it like my badly named highschool biology 2 cat Ching Chong Kitty. We would spend a week on 2 minutes worth of music, and I never thought to leave it for another until the professor would lay one more new on my desk. Possibly this is why I like vintage or why I’m drawn to unique. It limits my choices. Maybe a lack of a lack is the demise of the USA. Maybe the people of our country are trying to fix their watch in their own shadow. Maybe all of this I had to say to find a way to use my newest learned saying. (see oct 15 blog. Paragraph 2)
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i long for EMAILS
I have always been fascinated by the musician Bill Malone of the band "Vigilantes of Love" who would write "must emote." with sharpie on his left forearm to prevent apathy from creeping into his nightly performance. This way he would constantly be reminded by seeing the words while playing his guitar. I suppose the period, as opposed to an exclamation, was a pun at the phrase. It seems lately life has been writing "must emote." all over my arm.
I have always been fascinated by the musician Bill Malone of the band "Vigilantes of Love" who would write "must emote." with sharpie on his left forearm to prevent apathy from creeping into his nightly performance. This way he would constantly be reminded by seeing the words while playing his guitar. I suppose the period, as opposed to an exclamation, was a pun at the phrase. It seems lately life has been writing "must emote." all over my arm.
Sun
Oct
18
