Song of the day: Part 1.

I have been thinking about music a lot lately... mostly because I can think about it without thinking about anything else, but also because I can listen to music while I work and therefore it isn't on the procrastinations. A bunch of my friends are doing the song per day quiz that circled the blogisphere and is now a cool thing to do on facebook. I did the quiz back when, and I thought about doing it again via facebook then decided that I was just trying to procrastinate. I still consider it, it is still procrastinating. I then thought that perhaps it would be fun to do a similar thing with less guidelines, sort of a song that you want to write about today for whatever reason kind of thing. Because often I will get a song in my head, or a song will make me think of something... probably because that is what music is made to do. And so I thought that would be fun, rather than just the walls of musical text I have been presenting lately, a little more thought out, ordered, concise. Anyway, this is my first attempt at that, and if it doesn't work out for us, it may be my last.

My song of the day is Fire of unknown origin by the Blue Oyster Cult.

I came across this song watching Supernatural, and I wasn't familiar with it, probably because it was released and had it's heyday in 1981 which was before I was born. I am pretty sure this more mellow, less 80s metal version that I like is a cover but I don't know by whom and it may just be rebalanced or a weird recording. I like that it is kind of eerie. Because of the Supernatural soundtrack, and because I have been really busy, I have been listening to a lot of 80s rock lately (probably early 90s and late 70s too but you get what I mean by that kind of rock right?). The thing about 80s rock is that it is entertaining without being invasive, you don't have to listen to it if you are concentrating but if you want to rock out a little you can, and it makes you life seem SO much more epic because that genre of songs have been based on movies soundtracks so they make you feel like you are participating in a weird slow motion montage of your own, that someone somewhere has decided to emphasize that you are building up to something even if you don't know what.

"Swept her up and off my wavelength

Swallowed her up
Like the ocean in a fire
So thick and grey"

I think today I found a way to channel something I am angry about into something creative, and I am cautiously optimistic about that. Sure, I don't have time to actually do it, but at least I have found another option.

Non-traditional elements

Have I mentioned my love of rock/indie type music with non-traditional elements in it to you? I have? Shut up, I am mentioning it again. Actually, I might not have? I can't find my mention of it, so perhaps I didn't. Ok, so I love music with non-traditional elements in it. Like, rock songs that feature an accordian or a violin or ... I don't know, whatever. I have come to this conclusion by inductive reasoning, and therefore could be COMPLETELY off base about the whole thing, but I do seem to have quite a bit of non-traditional element music in my line up at present. Off the top of my head...

Mumford and sons

Who feature an accordian, a banjo, a mandolin and a string bass in their line up. I am enjoying their music immensely. Favourite band of the moment.

Angus and Julia Stone

Who have non-traditional vocals nailed, along with an undefined assortment of instruments. Also my favourite band of the moment. yeah, shhhh, I know that is cheating!

One Eskimo

Again. Yeah, I know, I am obsessed. But mmmmmmm the horns.

Dave Matthew Band

Violin, and the Sax.

Tom Waits

Non-traditional vocals, and he breaks my heart every damn time.

Adele

Speaking of a broken heart...

Blue October

Violin/viola and mandolin.

Midnight

Ok, it's not actually midnight. It is pushing on 2am infact. I am trying to write the abstract for my thesis seminar and I am just not inspired at all. I am looking about for an epiphany, something that will magically make my work finished so I can go to bed. I could just go to bed, I suppose, but that would be abmitting defeat.

Struggling to write this makes me think about all the other things I am struggling to write. Things that safely live in my bedroom at present where I can't be distracted by them when I should be working. Things that live less safely in my brain...

Focus. Focus, focus, focus, focus, focus.

After great pain a formal feeling comes--
The nerves sit ceremonious like tombs;
The stiff Heart questions--was it He that bore?
And yesterday--or centuries before?

The feet, mechanical, go round
A wooden way
Of ground, or air, or ought,
Regardless grown,
A quartz contentment, like a stone.

This is the hour of lead
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow--
First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.
~ Emily Dickenson

Disclaimation

I updated the disclaimer, because it has been a while since I did that.

~Disclaimer~

It probably isn't about you. It might have elements of you... most of it is a collage. If you really want to know, ask... I probably won't tell you, but you might feel better. It probably isn't about you. Don't get yourself upset assuming that it is.

Don't jump with both feet into your first impression.

And... please don't take any idea or emotion expressed here as representative of actual ideas or emotion. Because sometimes it's the kind of flame that burns out as soon as it leaves its source, sometimes it is an old wound reopened or just running fingertips over a scar that may or may not be mine, sometimes it's an old thing that has been turned over so many times it has no sharp edges left, sometimes it's a little of the madness, or the echoes of dragons. Sometimes it doesn't mean what you think. And sometimes it does, but how do you tell the difference?

Moving on

I was right. Unpacking items that have been in storage is a lot like christmas, the opening of unidentified boxes and the revealing of unanticipated items, the surprise, the delight, the occasional horror. It's also been excruciating work, physically and emotionally. Living and working around piles of boxes, not knowing where anything is or where anything will go. Finding old loved things and throwing away things that used to hold value. Choosing what should be in boxes and drawers, and then what fits in boxes and draws. Lifting, carrying, and setting down or dropping boxes, only to lift, carry, set down and drop them again sometimes even minutes later. Putting things away only to find somewhere better for them even minutes later. And on top of that dealing with the built in washing machine that is filled with black gunk, and the weird new cupboards, and the worlds slowest drier, and trying to work out how the vents work.

It's almost done. It's starting to feel like home. Of course that also means we are at the hardest bit, trying to force the remaining things to fit, ramping up the culling, playing tetris in life size scale. But there are places now where there are no boxes, where things are roughly where they will stay, where it doesn't look like this was once the home of strangers (with brilliant taste in DVDs). My desk isn't one of those places, it is chaos, but still...

On to the next bit.