Music for your Midweek: Blake Mills - "It'll All Work Out"

Family time during the holidays calls for this sad little number.

Read more about Blake Mills here, if you want. It's written by a major super fan, so it's funny in it's excruciating detail, at least. Anyway, Blake Mills is something else.

Saturday Verse: "The Fourth Sign of the Zodiac" - Mary Oliver

THE FOURTH SIGN OF THE ZODIAC

1.
Why should I have been surprised?
Hunters walk the forest
without a sound.
The hunter, strapped to his rifle,
the fox on his feet of silk,
the serpent on his empire of muscles—
all move in a stillness,
hungry, careful, intent.
Just as the cancer
entered the forest of my body,
without a sound. 

2.
The question is,
what will it be like
after the last day?
Will I floate
into the sky
or will I fray
within the earth of a river—
remembering nothing?
How desperate I would be
if I couldn't remember
the sun rising, if I couldn't
remember trees, rivers; if I couldn't
even remember, beloved,
your beloved name. 

3. I know, you never intended to be in this world.
But you're in it all the same. 

so why not get started immediately. 

I mean, belonging to it.
There is so much to admire, to weep over. 

And to write music or poems about. 

Bless the feet that take you to and fro.
Bless the eyes and the listening ears.
Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.
Bless touching. 

You could live a hundred years, it's happened.
Or not.
I am speaking from the fortunate platform
of many years,
none of which, I think, I ever wasted.
Do you need a prod?
Do you need a little darkness to get you going?
Let me be urgent as a knife, then,
and remind you of Keats,
so single of purpose and thinking, for a while,
he had a lifetime. 

4.
Late yesterday afternoon, in the heat,
all the fragile blue flowers in bloom
in the shrubs in the yard next door had
tumbled from the shrubs and lay
wrinkled and facing in the grass. But
this morning the shrubs were full of
the blue flowers again. There wasn't
a single one on the grass. How, I
wondered, did they roll back up to
the branches, that fiercely wanting,
as we all do, just a little more of
life?

                                                                            - Mary Oliver

November MIx: Make Room

It's been a doozy of a month. And I don't think I'm alone in having a hard time coping. Maybe this will help? Or not? You decide.

1. I'm New Here - Smog



2. Wolf - Sylvan Esso



3. Breathing Underwater  - Metric



4. New Dorp. New York - SBTRKT



5. Plasticities - Andrew Bird



6. Witness Blues (Daytrotter Session) - A.A. Bondy
Sorry ya'll, you can check it out here. 

7. Ballad Of Big Nothing - Seth Avett & Jessica Lea Mayfield




8. Special (Garbage Cover) - Torres



9. I Can't Catch You - Sixpence None the Richer



10. Latinoamerica - Calle 13



11. Paul Is Alive - EL VY




12. I'll Be The One You Want Someday - Jessica Lea Mayfield



13. Sous Le Ciel De Paris - Édith Piaf




14. The Socialites - Dirty Projectors



15. Can't Get It Out Of My Head (ELO) - Telekenesis



16. Iota - Angel Olsen



17. Body - Karen O

NOTES:

Too tired. Coming soon.

Music for your Midweek: Gretchen and Julia (!) - "Dreams" (Cranberries Cover)

After a bit of a hiatus, we're back and as embarrassing as ever. This is an exercise in not-caring, and gosh, it's really hard for me you guys. But whatever. Here we are!

All we do is sleep, and sing about "dreams", apparently.

Saturday Verse: "Personal" - Langston Hughes

PERSONAL 

In an envelope marked:
          Personal
God addressed me a letter.
In an envelope marked:
          Personal
I have given my answer. 

                                            - Langston Hughes

Should have told you what you meant to me

After George passed away, I promised myself that I would try to be more like him. He was driven to create, and took joy in sharing his creations whether it was fashion, or cooking, or music, or art. George was unafraid of experimentation. He tried and loved everything.

For so much time I've been far too cautious and embarrassed. So here's a dinky little thing I recorded while I was missing George. We used to sing it together. It's breaking my heart that he isn't here to harmonize with me.

It's not perfect, but it's a start.

Veteran's Day

THE HEROES

I dreamed of war-heroes, of wounded war-heroes
With just enough of their charms shot away
To make them more handsome. The women moved nearer
To touch their brave wounds and their hair streaked with gray. 

I saw them in long ranks ascending the gang-planks;
The girls with the doughnuts were cheerful and gay.
They minded their manners and muttered their thanks;
The Chaplain advised them to watch and to pray. 

They shipped these rapscallions, these sea-sick battalions
To a patriotic and picturesque spot;
They gave them new bibles and marksmen's medallions,
Compasses, maps, and committed the lot. 

A fine dust has settled on all that scrap metal.
The heroes were packaged and sent home in parts
To pluck at a poppy and sew on a petal
And count the long night by the stroke of their hearts.

     - Louis Simpson                             

Music for your Midweek: Broncho - "I Don't Really Want To Be Social"

I've given myself a friend date activity task everyday for the past while. Sorry,  I love y'all, but these are my true thoughts.

These guys are playing at Urban Lounge tonight so if you have to be social you can say hi to me there? If you still need to be convinced, you might recognize them from this popular little song.

All day prayer

After you start losing people, you become afraid that anyone could be next.

All day I've had a prayer


     please don't die
     please don't die
     please don't die


And now I feel silly, but I'm still relieved you're here.

The original and
Frank Ocean's

Image from this sweet sad thing I found today. 

Saturday Verse: "Yes, the mystery" - May Swenson

YES, THE MYSTERY

Yes, the mystery
the mystery of life
the horrid mystery of it
Many have seen it clearer than I
have sat in it
been stuck in it
stood in it up to their nostrils
and chose not to breathe
rather than suck in its stench
And not breathing is most difficult
To stop to refuse to not-respond
is most difficult
Why even in the abstract
it's enough to make you vomit
Thank if those roses
were dipped in tar
Thinking it they are
and your eyelids drop off
your neck will never turn again
and you must stare
at the black leather petals forever
Oh Heavenly Father leave us the illusion
of the flies who cluster the lake of urine
gushed by the horse in the fetid prison
of his stall
and the bliss and energy that spins them
as they bathe and dip their sugar there

- May Swenson                                                                               

Music for your Midweek: SOAK - "Blind"

I've revisited SOAK over the past month, and she's great as ever. I especially like this Spotify session version of "Blind". It's lovely.I'm not able to embed the song, so I encourage you to click through. Otherwise, check out the album version here: