atoms for peace

atoms for peace - thom yorke

no more going to the dark side with your flying saucer eyes
no more falling down a wormhole that i have to pull you out

the wriggling, squiggling worm inside
devours from the inside out

no more talk about the old days
it's time for something great

i want you to get out
and make it work

so many lies
so many lies
so many lies
so feel the love come off of them
and take me in your arms

peel all of your layers off
i want to eat your artichoke heart

no more leaky holes in your brain
and no false starts

i wanna get out
and make it work

so many lies
so many lies
so many lies
so feel the love come off of them
and take me in your arms

i wanna get out
and make it work

i want you to get out
and make it work

i'll be ok

so many lies
so many lies
so many lies
so feel the love come off of them
and take me in your arms

sigur ros - seattle - 2012

what is there to say after you spend two hours slipping and swaying between the melodies and beats of one of the most viscerally experiential bands? left in my hands, rattling restless in my head, keeping me awake long past my bedtime are the colors, the sounds, the harmonies that arrested my spirit.

individual moments stand out in perfect focus and flawless clarity: that golden silence they wedged into the middle of a song, shocking us all into breathless surprise, holding it long past you'd expect it, longer still until a clap broke out hesitantly {as we shook our heads to silence the offender}. a sold out audience's worth of collective anticipation lengthening the seconds even further, then further still to the very edge of our capacity to be patient, to not breathe. and still they made us wait. it was almost too much. my breathing returned loud and excited, squirming and full in those final moments of waiting. then payoff, the surge of sound immediately following jonsi's microphoned inhale was one of countless moments of glory.

countless.

others include:

the soft valtari greens of the opening song's visuals.
the hazy ship floating hauntingly across the projection screen.
the filament lights on stage.
jonsi's gentle curl of hand, encouraging us to sing along.
singing along.
the lines and shapes inside my closed eyes as the light danced through my eyelids, refusing to be shut out.
the excitement of hearing the opening sounds of a well-loved song {svefn-g-englar}, almost too good to be true, and the affirmation from one of my concert mates*, the one who is so good at answering my unvoiced questions.
the smiles passed around between my neighbors.
the colors. the colors. the colors. even if they were just sounds parading around as a color.
the final song at the end, untitled #8, that always starts off deceivingly slow until it builds, and builds, and builds beyond one's capacity to take in the sheer volume of sound and lights and noise and harmony pressed into us, until the spirit cries out to participate. the cheers erupting from the crowd around us were not a distraction but purely a primal reflex, an extension of what was happening on stage. a response to the unspoken realization that the vessels of our bodies cannot hold all that they give at the end of this one song. we must explode, release, even if it's just a rhythmic tapping of my hand across my heart. even if it's just a burst of noise from my neighbor's gut. the spirit cries out to participate. the spirit cries out: participate.

the band always comes out at the end to clap their hands warmly back at us, link arms, and then bow. the sweetest part of a bittersweet goodbye. sigur ros, please don't take four years to come back to us. please.


*music friend #1, joining me here almost exactly 4 years, two trips and six shows later {only six??? i guess we have shared quite a few others even if we weren't both at the same show at the same time including atoms for peace, sigur ros, bon iver, modselektor, radiohead...}.

 

setlist:


ekki múkk
varúð
ný batterí
i gær
vaka
sæglópur
svefn-g-englar
viðrar vel til loftárása
hoppípolla
olsen olsen
festival
hafsól

encore:

dauðalogn
popplagið {untitled 8}

give up the ghost

i give up. but all i feel like i'm giving up is the ghost of an insubstantial thing i have tried so hard to breathe life into.

at times i admit, i failed. my grip tightened, the gentle stirrings crushed, but trust me when i say it took every ounce of concentration to loosen the vice of my scared fingers that were holding on to something,  anything, to safety. but i have learned, please believe me, i have, and i have leaned closer to that gentle balance than i ever have managed before. it wasn't easy. it never is when you are pushing at the boundaries of oneself. and these weren't easy lines i trenched. the deepest running, the truest cutting.

yes, i have learned a lot.

but i give up.

tonight.

now.

i think i should give up the ghost in your arms.


i give up the ghost of my own fears, the ghost of my restless patience, the ghost of my silence. and i have no idea what is on the other side, but the line was crossed and finally i am pushed to find out why and ask if i am getting anywhere in the process.


.............................................

thank you, thom, this song will serenade me my luck. one of the sleeper songs of radiohead's newest album. i saw it saw performed once two years ago in new york city...i didn't realize it would hit so hard this tour but it always found its way through to the tender spots that were already showing.

don't hurt me.
don't haunt me.

radiohead – seattle – 04.09.12

{photo taken by eden smith}

3/3

as it is past midnight, later today i'll be seeing radiohead for the third and final time of this tour. it's going to be good night, i already know and special in a way i can't foresee. i'm not sure how to explain it beyond that and there is no reason for my premonition beyond a calm certainty i felt pretty strongly while traveling to see the first two shows. seattle will be the crowning delight. seattle will be a special show. 

so here i am: overdue for sleep and with an alarm set to blast an hour or three before my body would prefer, but it's going to be a good day in line. even a bit of good weather i see. and i am ready for the ride that will be tomorrow's show.

i'm bringing a friend who wasn't seen them before. in fact, this is the friend i made at bon iver back in september, and as you can see from the post script of that entry, i knew it was only a matter of time before we saw radiohead together.


and putting a few things into words tonight, i realized a big piece of how i experience radiohead live is centered around the fact that even though i am loving every minute of the concert, carried away by the life and energy of it all, that the experience is laced with a slow and steady heartache that i was not chosen to be the kind of conduit thom yorke is. i will not move people in the way he does with such searing truth and in such great numbers. i lack that genius. i lack that focus. i lack something, i know this. we can't all be special. we can't all move the world. but i harbor the desire {not of my own volition for the most part} and i guess what i am facing today {for the 11th time} is a deep disappointment that i won't ever accomplish what he has accomplished even as i sit and watch and love the artist who somehow did get that opportunity and gift.



see you on the other side.

{top photo: from the st. louis show. 

bottom photo by elaine zeman: there i am in the dead 

center of the frame. on the rail at kansas city, rapt}

from the air/from the ground

a few photos from my trip earlier this month to see radiohead in the midwest. life is so full and busy at the moment, i can only edit things piecemeal after i've gotten ready for bed each night. i still owe you europe photos. i still owe you europe stories.

one thing at a time.

for tonight: a few photos from the air traveling east to st. louis & a few photos from the ground driving west to kansas city.

from the air:



from the ground:

the last nomadic nights

tonight i sleep in my own bed after 242 nights of being a nomad. that's two and a half times the length i thought this adventure would be. while visiting my friend from college this past week, i was sitting at her dining room table thinking about the changes that have slowly come over me during this time and i was cataloging all the small things like being more open to try new foods and letting go a lot faster when things aren't quite perfect {like that new scrape on the car, the little dent on my new iphone, etc} or being more open and ready for adventures. these are the small things and i know — i know — that these small changes are just facets of all the bigger changes that happened as well.

so, here are the final places i have traveled through and dreamt in these last few weeks between finding my new place and finally being able to move into it.

nights 217 & 218

a last minute petsitting gig while i was housesitting 

in february for my friend in ethiopia.

night 230

after housesitting in february i moved to eden's 

for the last week here before traveling west 

{first night in her bed and the rest in the living room on a grand air mattress}

nights 231 to 234

& 236 {after a night's adventure to vancouver}

the grand air mattress

night 235

in vancouver for a quick trip with my new friend, 

christina to visit an old friend from nine years ago 

 nights 237 & 241

onward to st. louis, radiohead shows and sylwinn's

{the first and last night of the trip to missouri}

night 238

crashing after the first show in st. louis 

with another old friend, cloudie  

nights 239 & 240 

at the aladdin hotel in kansas city, missouri 

for the 2nd radiohead show

back to sylwinn's for one mostly sleepless night. then:

final night: 242. 

a late-night pick-up from the airport. 

a touch delirious but happy to be back 

ending in another restless night struggling to get to sleep. 

movers scheduled to arrive at 9am march 14th, 2012, exactly 8 months after this crazy adventure began.

the first of three shows

it was perfect. heartbreaking, heart expanding, can't stop moving perfect.

too bad it passed like this:

on the rail

for the first time ever i am waiting for radiohead to play with my length pressed against the rail. its chilly bars will be the only thing between myself and my favorite band.

radiohead, the biggest mirrors in my artistic sky, and i get to experience you front and center.

i am seeing them twice this weekend along with a large number of people i haven't seen in as many as nine years. then i return to seattle to be finally (re)united with my home sweet home.

here i am, on the rail. waiting for great things.

judge, jury & executioner

whenever i hit bottom the night always gives back a warm smile. last time it was on the flight to europe complete with shooting stars and aurora borealis. tonight it was a bright, half-moon lit run through discovery park, an airplane tracing a slow path across the sky leaving a glowing tail as long as my outstretched arm behind it. i took out my earbuds when i got to the water's edge. low tide. slow waves. quiet. alone. perfect.

it's on nights like these when i realize how much clutters the space between me and the moon. on the back roads of the park where no streetlamps dare to go, the space between us cleared and i could feel her above me, gracing me with sharp shadows and a gentle wash of tenderness my spirit was needing.

these past few days have shown me a terrifying reality: my bones have been broken and never set straight. and suddenly, thankfully, i have the clarity to look back {in shame and frustration} at how i have forced others to provide me with a sense of safety and worth. sure, i've packaged it up in a tidy box, put a pretty ribbon on it and a tag called trust, but the truth i am finally able to articulate for myself is that just like with love, trust has to start with the self before it can be found with others.

it is one of my goals of this year to forgive the ex that cheated on me and cowardly refused to ever own up to it {and yes, i have proof}. yes, i would not date him were he to be the last person left, but no, i am not over the damage of that relationship because it was a repeat injury, a fear, a phobia i have been carrying around for years already. i did my best, but the limb is still crooked and has been for decades.

and these past few days i took each knotted angle, each half-healed fracture and i watched myself ruthlessly snap them in two.

needless to say, this was not an easy process. it was not clean and it certainly was not pretty. it also involved about three or so episodes that dredged up an emotional response so intense my body could not metabolize it. it was only today that i realized these were panic attacks -- something it is humbling for me to admit given how much i hold on to my self-image as one who is emotionally present, resilient and bold. but i guess this should be reassuring that i'm successfully striking to the root of the issue because the only other time i have experienced said temperature dropping/shaking episodes was when the relationship i am referring to was initially falling apart in this clouded and convoluted way: a result of the dishonesty and cowardice that prevented any clarity and closure. but just because i'm on the right track doesn't mean it's any more comfortable or comforting. i can only hope that i'll be stronger and whole on the other side and that how confidently i tread each painful, limping step forward at the worst is only a further sign that this is passing, this is fleeting and good things await which i will be able to walk just as confidently toward, if not quite so painfully.

and those good things....i know they will be built on the foundation i am laying, built on the idea that no one can give me enough reassurance to calm my fears and that i am the only one responsible for these fears and how they manifest in my life. i have to take ownership of how they wedge themselves into the space between myself and another person, getting in the way and muddying waters. i know my fears are based off of my untrue ideas {even if the emotions they illicit are true}: that i am not good enough, that there will always be another woman more interesting, more important, more smart/beautiful/insert whatever, than me.

but i am here. i am here. i am here. grateful for where and who i am, for my life as it is at the moment, providing me a bittersweet blend of safety and risk and the perfect surface on which to break these broken bones again. and it doesn't matter what some one has done or could do in a relationship with me.  they can break their word, they can sleep around or not, my worth does not change, i am still me, complete and whole. their actions merely inform how i do or do not want them in my life.

so yes, i am here and i am hoping to finally set them straight. and hoping. always hoping.


.....................................................

the song that accompanied the run: myxamatosis (judge, jury & executioner) which i found nicely appropriate. radiohead of course {and i get to see them in a month and some spare change}.

the mongrel cat came home 
holding half a head 
proceeded to show it off 
to all his newfound friends 
he said "i been where i liked
i slept with who i like
she ate me up for breakfast 
she screwed me in a vice
but now i don't know why i feel so tongue-tied"

i sat in the cupboard 
and wrote it down neat 
they were cheering and waving 
cheering and waving 
twitching and salivating like with myxomatosis 
but it got edited, fucked up 
strangled, beaten up
used in a photo in time magazine 
buried in a burning black hole in devon 
and i don't know why i feel so tongue-tied 
don't know why i feel so skinned alive

my thoughts are misguided and a little naive
i twitch and i salivate like with myxomatosis 
you should put me in a home or you should put me down 
i got myxomatosis 
i got myxomatosis 
yeah, no one likes a smart-ass but we all like stars
but that wasn't my intention, i did it for a reason 
it must have got mixed up 
strangled, beaten up 
i got myxomatosis 
i got myxomatosis 
i don't know why i feel so tongue-tied

team radiohead

it started with an early morning text from eden. walking on the streets of seattle she was creeped out by a man {and i won't even say what he was doing} and sent me a text at 2am central european time. for whatever reason, my usually silent phone had its ringer turned on and i woke up. as i read the text, i very clearly thought "that's unfortuante, eden, but it can wait until tomorrow when i am awake" but as i put my phone down to go back to sleep, i also very clearly thought "check your email" and without even pausing to wonder what could be so important, i did.

and there was the email from mike, radiohead friend #1. he was giving me the very important tidbit of info i would have otherwise missed during my travels: radiohead pit tickets were going on sale later that day, two days earlier than i thought. unfortunately this meant it would be while i was traveling through venice with my parents, or even worse: on the train to rome.

next there is scott, radiohead/music friend #10 {remember my bon iver friend from the concert?}. i called him straight away and gave him all the tips i know about scoring pit tickets. i also gave him my credit card info, waste log in info and instructions to purchase the maximum number of tickets possible: 4.

then there is the lottery. because you don't know what time the fan tickets will go on sale, just the date, and even then, it's a rat race to get in there fast enough to score tickets. last time i bought tickets it was 6am local time of the show {4am pst}, but 6...7....9! o'clock rolled by and no celebratory text from scott. the streets of venice were losing their appeal. i dreaded getting on the train to rome which would take me completely out of the reach of wireless and unable to do anything at all for our cause. but i said a prayer, got on the train and waited.

and beyond all luck, he got 4 tickets that sold out in less than a minute. and the crazy thing is i had seasoned fans lose out not only on this pre-sale day, but when the rest of the tickets went on sale two days later {and they had 3 people trying at once to no avail}.

but it wasn't until this morning that i realized the 4 people who all worked to make this bit of luck come together are the same 4 who will be getting these tickets and seeing the show come april 9th. without the text to wake me up, without the email giving me that crucial update, without cashing in on scott's luck karma {blended with a lovely bit of type-a focus that helps get a job done}, we wouldn't have these tickets.

so there you have it. team radiohead 2012*: eden, mike, scott & me.

*with several important sidekicks joining us for the show {including music friends numbers 7, 12 & 13}

11.11.11 – my white birthday

symmetry in numbers has always been something i've noticed. patterns, repetition, progression – i love it all. so, to get the chance to celebrate my birthday {which is an unassuming 10.26.82} on 11.11.11 was something of a numerical gift of the universe. a tribute to the balance and stability i hope to step into as i enter the last year of my 20s and absorb the strength that saturn return has bestowed upon me.

last year my closest friends both locally and around the world came together to give me color and build me wings and what a year it has been. the theme of flight woven tightly through some of the most profound moments. it began with that amazing vision i had on my run this spring in sync with the lyrics and one day, i am gunna grow wings – revealing in my spirit a rare moment of acceptance of myself, struggles and all. and while the image of flight is literally represented in the song, it also lives in that rhythm i have spent hundreds of miles savoring as i cemented my love for running this year. 

and it was running that delivered the next experience of flight this year. even before the amazing release i experienced at mile 11 of my half marathon, i had a moment, at mile 8, when i pulled away from my little brother and told myself i am going to do this – i can come in sub-two hours. i can do this. i can do anything. and suddenly there was a rush of adrenaline and focus that filled me beyond full, rushing down my back and causing the muscles across my scapula to ripple in anticipation. and even while this is all going on and i was registering the emotional and physical events happening simultaneously, i spared a quick thought for humor's sake to acknowledge that if i had wings, they'd be coming out of the part of my back shuddering as though i was trying to take flight.

the third and most recent experience of flight was the breakthrough i had in singing not too long ago. at the time i even named the blog entry flying because that is what it felt most like in the moment – this clear sense of soaring effortlessly. it was like i imagine a bird to feel in that freewheeling space where any direction is not only possible, but easy, and connected to a deep internal strength of ligaments and muscles so perfectly designed to do exactly what is needed. that strength, that knowledge, that potential, i have had all along despite all the times i have told myself otherwise.

and the flying, the acknowledgement and acceptance of own strength, as i am learning, is so often accompanied by grief. a purge. a release. as they come at greater frequency, i hope for myself that i will hit the bottom of that well of self-doubt and find something new to channel.

in the spirit of that hope, for my birthday this year, i wanted to welcome a sense of lightness, freedom and purity into the equation, take the wings you all so colorfully presented me with last year and strip away everything to its purest elements: light, air, weightlessness, luminescence and flight. 

so i gathered to me some of the clearest voices in my life {those darlings that are local} and together we infused the next year of my life with these elements. a benediction of white and light and adventure and play and connection to those things rushing toward me from my future: the cumulation of my efforts on proof, of travel, of settling into a new home, seeing radiohead {in march} and of finally getting to go to my hometown. 

a fitting welcome for the new year.

  

#3

a week after driving around in the car with music friends #12 & #13, it felt right to be following some of the exact same roads touring one of my first music friends through my city. kerry park. alki beach. golden gardens...

chris, #3, whom i first met traveling from los angeles to santa barbara to see radiohead finish off the american leg of their '08 tour. at the time i refrained from telling my mom i was getting into a car with two strange men and later driving back to los angeles with a third until after i was home safely, but obviously my gut speaks true, and here we are, three years later, meeting up again in another city {for the second time} and planning the east coast leg of radiohead's next tour.

it was a good night. played through kid a live, singing along quietly {despite my recent voice lesson break throughs, very few people actually hear me sing in person, particularly to a thom yorke song}, listening in silence, stopping and freezing our butts off for photos, and meandering through stories more personal than we have shared in the past.

it was a good night. one of the last bits of carefree time between now and the opening of the show.


-----------------------

pale blue eyes played while we were at lunch together at elysian brewery. i often forget i have blue eyes, or that they affect others.

the flock {part 1.}

it's been long in coming but the post i had in mind to introduce this project just requires more time than i have right now. i want to photograph and document each and every bird that i have received, give them their own place of honor, write a few word about receiving it, etc. but today is not that day. yet i am long overdue in presenting the contributors with some sort of reward for all their individual colors so today can be that day.

but i'm getting ahead of myself. let me put this all into perspective for the rest of you.

last october, for my 28th birthday, i sent out the following letter to 50 people around the world:


hello my far away friends,

in preparation for my 28th birthday, i asked myself who i would want to have at the perfect birthday party & each of you came up in my mind. captivated by this desire to include you all in some way, i constructed a project for my local friends when we gather on november 6th to celebrate & i’m hoping you’ll contribute.

in the enclosed envelope you’ll find a small wooden bird. the directions are simple: color it on both sides & send it back to me.

you can paint it. you can paste little pieces of magazine images on it. you can cover it in wax. you can use a sharpie, pencil or pen but just pick ONE color {it can vary a little but make sure it’s predominantly one color & that it’s the same color on both sides—yes, i know it’s a different texture, just do your best}.

color is an important dimension of life for me, not only as an artist, wordsmith & dreamer, but as someone who lives & breathes through the connections i have collected over the years. a few of you i have never met in person, others only once {probably at a radiohead concert} & many i haven’t seen in years; yet all of you have provided me with some of the most visceral colors to carry me forward & now i’m asking you to do so yet again. so give me the color you see me as, give me the color you come to me as, give me the color you would hope for me or just give me a color that’s true.

thank you so very much for playing. i hope to be in the same city as you sometime soon, whatever the country, continent or hemisphere.

till then, yours in full color,

nathania tenwolde

p.s. there is a bit of card in the return envelope. please send it back with the bird to help protect it on its way home, but also feel free to jot a note to me on it. perhaps an explanation of the color you chose, or a random thought or message. all words are welcome. ~nat

p.p.s. my impatience is legendary, so please return it to me as soon as you can so i can start arranging the flock. ~n

between the party i held here and the teal envelopes, this is what i received:

supercollider & the butcher

today was a day for new radiohead. the next limb in the tree as it were. i tried to listen to the songs while doing the dishes and that lasted for about 30 seconds before i danced my way in front of my stereo so i could take it all in without soap, running water and a dish strainer mediating the experience. even the distance between the speakers and i became an obstacle and i ended up on my knees on the ground. listening. listening. dancing in place and listening.

it's a new experience hearing a song from them for the "first time" after having heard the live version for years now. the poor quality recording i've had of thom on the piano familiarized me with the melody and lyrics through its many listens, allowing me to arrive at this first listen today knowing all the words and anticipating the direction the song will take, all the while, rapt attention to gather into my spirit every new sound. every new nuance of his voice. and with that, another layer is added to the patina of this song.

supercollider is lovely and electronic, in line with what i see as the arc of radiohead's electronic evolution, but the butcher, the second song of the recording, is a part of what i see as this amazing counter rhythm to their synthesized exploration. it's darker. earthier. and i feel like it's directly related to the more acoustic and organic sounds that thom was using on his solo tour last spring. electronic thom/radiohead channels something from so far out in the universe the rest of us humans can only see it through these electronic and other-wordly sounds. meanwhile, this other facet, this muddy, organic, full of acoustic percussions and man made sounds comes from the opposite place: it's from so deep in the earth, burning in the center, brought up through the ground and into the light of day through his music. i experience the electronic coming in through his head, cerebral and ethereal, sinking down to the heart and coming out to us while the organic comes up through the ground, swaying through the hips into the gut, and always, always, always, back out through the heart. his music. their music. it resonates in the heart.

but i'm skipping a piece of the story here: my first experiences this time last year with his new earthy sounds. his solo tour. nyc. both nights, but most especially the second. coachella. i owe you that story. i owe me that story.

but right now, i'm heading on a run in the sporadic sun with my two new songs on repeat.

image: copyright radiohead. cover of the 12" vinyl release.

let up & let down

it should be easy to tell you about what happened on my run on friday, but the truth is i've written three complete posts and pitched them all out. too wordy. trying to connect the dots and spell e v e r y t h i n g out for you to understand. but what i experienced was, at the heart of it, very simple.

it started about 2 miles in the run: this realization that i'm fighting against my lack of endurance and how it makes my runs less fun and me more judgmental. but i quickly realized that i just need to suck it up and run because that's the only way i'm going to get to the other side. additionally {i told myself}, the place i am at physically right now doesn't negate the strength i was so joyfully celebrating last month. and while it's also been a bumpy ride emotionally this month, it's not something that threatens the resilience and courage i've been celebrating in myself recently. this is just a month out of my life and a stepping stone in the right direction, no matter how uncomfortable it is at the time.

but about a mile or so later, i felt my heart open up to accept this truth that the mind had claimed. embrace it with welcoming arms and a tender spirit: i am here. right now. in this place of both physical and emotional rebuilding. and this past month, on both levels, has been exposing raw nerves and inflamed ligaments. rehabilitating these lingering injuries of the body and spirit. and in the length of a city block, the heart felt for these things, but also brought along a feeling of hope for the future that this work is helping me prepare for.

so in this moment, i could accept this month as just a piece of the puzzle and a necessary phase to get where i want to go.

but it didn't stop there.

a mile or two later, running along the backside of a cemetery, the song let down {yes, radiohead} came up on shuffle. the first half of the song, with true radiohead spirit, so beautifully acknowledged the disappointments of life: being crushed to the ground and let down as only thom can sing about. but as the final verse crescendoed through my earphones, it delivered with it an image i couldn't close my eyes against. i saw, in sync with the rush of sound and energy of the music, two iridescent waves curling toward each other in front of me, colliding, and flowing quickly toward me in their warm, golden glory. and suddenly, my body had this expansive sense of not only running in this finite moment of time, but also on the greater path of my life, forward toward my future that was rushing enthusiastically to meet me. and what an exciting future those waves seemed to represent.

i had to close my eyes it was almost too much. overwhelming and beautiful as only sudden truths can be.

and sitting here, writing about it, my heart breaks for moments like these when i feel far away from where i want to go, disappointed and disconnected from things that are important to me. afraid of them even. afraid of doing the wrong thing. saying the wrong thing. asking too much. not asking enough. what if what i envision for myself is too beautiful to happen in this world? there are days when i feel powerless. powerless because i'm not sure if i will ever hear back, because i miscalculated taxes and owe over $1,000 that i would rather spend on other things, and powerless because i'm still to scared to even prepare for an audition.

and yet, it's there. these moments of acceptance like the one from my run. tangible enough to be accessible whenever i sit in my inner stillness and relive the moment or replay the song and hear him travel through his own doubts to find his way to sing so appropriately to me:

you know, you know where you are with

you know where you are with

floor collapsing, falling, bouncing back

and one day, i am gonna grow wings

a chemical reaction {you know where you are}...

so, for tonight, tomorrow and the next day and countless after, it's just important for me to keep putting one step in front of the other, one recovery run after the other, one disappointment after the next, however many it takes for me to get where i am going. because i do know where i am. i know it. i know it. i know it. and one day, i am going to grow wings.

..........................................................................................

here is the song let down. the verse i was referring to starts at 3:40

date night

a little black cloud perched on my shoulder last night releasing words of discouragement at the pace of a steady drizzle. it started before i went to bed, hounded me through my insomnia and maintained a steady presence just behind my right shoulder all day today.

much like the beginning of the year i found myself weighed down by my body and spirit's attempts at fighting my fragility. and the same solution presented itself: spend a day away. turn off the cell phone. get away from people and obligations and to do lists. re-integrate yourself.

since that isn't an option in the next day or so, the idea of a date night by myself presented itself. take myself out to dinner, go to a couple of fun stores like the art store and elliot bay book store, treat yourself, be creative.

so i did.

what a perfect way to spend the night.

first, a leisurely snack. a detour through a chapter or two of my newest guilty pleasure read {soon to be supplanted by never let me go}. a long shower. shaving my legs {the first time i've attempted that since pulling my back out of line. it's a long way down to my ankles on a good day and an unspannable if i can't lean over}. a walk into capitol hill {also a first in a week and a half}. a copy of never let me go without keira knightly on the cover {as much as i loved the movie, i want it to stand apart}. a postcard for a very dear friend. dinner for one at boom noodle. vietnamese salad. yumm. dessert evidently mandatory: molly moons chocolate raspberry sorbet with a waffle cone and hot fudge we'll pretend didn't have milk in them. a detour through the drug store on the way home to pick up supplies for the flock installation {we're getting closer to more details on my collaborative birthday project...} and a meander through the bubble bath isle. couldn't decide between vanilla, coconut & tangerine and rose geranium citrus so i went with both. they'll both get used. and who can't use extra of both time out and harmony which is what these flavors profess to create.

then, a walk back home under the super full moon and a night of radiohead's new album {which came out last full moon} and painting. finally, painting.

the cloud seems to be gone. good riddance.

the king of limbs

on every album there are the songs i get right away and then those that need to steep a while. it took me until the second live show to get bodysnatchers from their last album and the second night of thom's new york city shows to get the hollowed earth and being pulled apart by horses. this doesn't bother me. it's just a result of how dissonant and dynamic their range can be.

this album is no different, though i can't tell what i am or am not able to absorb because of a meager 4 hours of sleep last night.

what i am clear on is my reaction to track #6. the opening notes. the simple pulse of the piano. my response swelling up from nowhere i can account for. i had to pull over and sob for most of my first listen, then sit, the track on repeat, in a still car and under a full moon for another four or five repetitions.*

thom. you've done it again.


i am grateful and no, i don't think it's over yet.

codex

sleight of hand
jump off the end
into a clear lake
no one around
just dragonflies
fantasize
no one gets hurt
you don't know
what's wrong**

slide your hand
jump off the end
the water's clear
and innocent
the water's clear
and innocent

*for the record, i've never had this response to any song. ever. particularly on a first listen.
**not quite sure of this lyric.

oh what a day...

...and it's only 9am.

it started at 6. restless again. toss. turn. realize i wasn't going to sleep, so i may as well go read that email you sent me. except how did i know it was going to be there, sitting calmly amongst groupons and facebook comments? i didn't. and yet i did – for the second time this week.

an email was returned while my enthusiasm ensued.

too much to go back to sleep. so i started my day an hour and a half early, using that extra time to make my bed, cook a real breakfast complete with a big mug of tea and finally watch this TED talk that i've been meaning to see for over a month. one that affirms that the way i live, walking the ways of vulnerability and authenticity, stating that i might just be on to something even as crazy as i think others see me as sometimes. it's the only way i can live and here i'm told it might just be a good way. {see for yourself below}

next, {and now, this is a big next} i see the fact that radiohead released their newest album a day early.

my god.

my dear dear dear god.

i've downloaded it, but refuse to listen to it until i have the proper space to do so. and for now, it's sitting out in front of me side by side with a skype call i hope happens soon.

vulnerability. glorious, raw and beautiful vulnerability. how you call me forward into the life i want to lead.

all that rises must converge

convergence.
a word running through my life these past two days.
and i'm not sure exactly how to lay out all the vectors arriving
from different times and appearing, suddenly, unexpectedly
all within days or even minutes of each other.
everything is just happening so quickly.
staccato notes.
crescendo.
cymbal rush.
but i am here
and i already know that this new radiohead album
{only one of the four significant things coming suddenly into my life this week}
will mark a new time period in my life.
my heart is open, ready and full.
and i can hardly wait.