The Void

I was going to say this is my NEW favorite video, but I don't even like videos. However. This is so worth hearing. Go on. Watch it.

The rain is brilliant.  I love it.  But, just because happiness and personal satisfaction are so mundane, I'm fantasizing about snow.  Who misses Flagstaff?  Frisbee fights on the slopes at night, sitting in your car on the edge of the parking lot watching tiny flakes float down from a pink nighttime sky, wrapping up in a couple of blankets for a smoke on the porch...  Yum.

Tres busy, was the weekend. 

First off, an adult outing - always to be savored - to the Cherry Lounge on Mill for Ken's birthday soiree.  Mill Avenue was absolutely decked in festive lighting, fully equipped with the buskers playing everything from Moondance to White Christmas to horrid originals.  The walk from Ash was lovely, even given the drunken Hat Boy that accosted Ray, among others.


   Hat Boy & The Sax Man

Cherry Lounge is not exactly my scene.  Well, not at all, actually.  Anyone who mixes Fleetwood Mac and rap might have some creative merit, but doesn't have my dancability vote.  Nevertheless, it was great people watching.  If you've never been to Cherry, it's fully equipped with floor lights, a la Saturday Night Fever, and dozens of poles, for your drunk dancing convenience, of course.  It's amazing how the proximity and promise of a pole will transform the most taciturn girl into a wild thang.  It's like there's a little stripper inside just waiting to bust out; and bust out they did.  The girls with the short dresses made me laugh the most, because there was much picture-taking.  Some holiday party was happening - an office event to be sure:  girls dressed up like Frosty the Snowman meets Pippi Longstocking (think candy cane stockings), suits with antlers and wreathed cowboy hats.  When the girl-on-girl pole-action started, I thought, "Oh, sister.  You'll regret that on Monday morning."  I can see the company newsletter now.  So you can see how it was an amusing evening.

But it was good to see Ken.  It was a good time.  Mill has a good vibe.

                   
         Me & Ken                                                                 Ken, Ray & Eric

Second:  Soren's first birthday party.  It was fantastic to hook up with the old crew for a little while, and even better to meet Sam's wife and daughter.  Wild, man.  I can't believe I've know he and Carol for so long; it doesn't seem like it's been that many years, but it definitely has.  We talked well and played well.  Here are some choice shots of the event:

        
   Alex & Carolyn                                                  Sam, Myself & Carolyn

 
         Alex & Sam

This is a good one.  It's a bit blurry because we were insanely drunk, as evidenced by the three empty wine bottles clutched in my hands.  Since it was a "night out," I'm imprecisely garbed in that horrid pale dress (I only think it's horrid now; then I was relatively obsessed with it).  Despite it's general flimsiness, I was quite warm thanks to the weary thermal leggings underneath.  Don't cringe - it was the Left Bank, you could get away with anything. 

That's Kim Malinka next to me.  The same one who trekked up the Eiffel Tower a total of five times in the two days we lounged in Paris.  Earlier she had escaped from the Louvre with our shared pack of cigarettes to ride up the Tower (again) while I lingered over a mediocre cheese quesadilla in the Food Court; the pull of Mexican food was too fierce to resist after a mangled diet of schnitzel and gelato and whatever else we happened upon down south.  The cigarette hanging off my lips is a result of our frenzied reunion, Marlborough and I.  We were tight in Europe. 

You can just see the rest of the bunch in the background, all the wild Aussie's we were hanging out with.  If you squint to the left, you'll see Greg from Brisbane - the blond.  We had fun in Lucerne.  Well, Paris too.  And London later.  But here he's with his mate Barry, the tall guy to his left, and Graeme, late of Newcastle.  He settled in Vienna a few weeks later.  And of course, around all of us, the darkly ornate wood panelling of whatever restaurant we were in.  It was the best night in Paris, this one, aside from escargot (yes, I tried it - it remains to be seen whether I threw up from the snails or the liquor).  I wouldn't go back to Paris if you paid me, but that one night, the last of our trek, really (London doesn't count), was a fitting farewell.

I win.

Damn, sister soldier,

Wise words side with nobody

Yet seek truth and love.
 

 

From: Stefanie Dorer 
Sent: Wednesday, December 10, 2008 1:57 PM
To: Shannon Eckardt
Subject: Re: haiku for you - ha!

 

Boo-ya I love you

words that make me want to be

a me that is me

 

---

 

From: Shannon Eckardt
To: Stefanie
Wednesday, December 10, 2008 12:51:28 PM
Subject: haiku for you

 

Zen is the art that

Never talks about itself.

Be who you are now.

 

Why is it that a blank page repels?  It’s always an act of determination to face it and actually write something down.  I love to *have written*, but the process of doing it is like throwing up - you really don't want to do it, but you *know* you'll feel so much better afterwards.  Yeah, not the most elegant analogy.  Internal editor:  Off.  Mostly.

Ugh.  I hate writing about writing, but at least I thought to spare you my annual Thanksgiving lecture/rant.  For those of you who’ve read it for the past, what, ten years, I accept your thanks. 

But Thanksgiving is great, isn’t it?  All that cultural unity just makes me shiver.  Okay.  I’ll stop there.  History rocks.

I don’t even really remember high school; the memories are thankfully bland. I suppose that happens, in retrospect, with all instances of high passion. Time dims them. What I do remember is perfectly sepia, like an old photograph, all the thoughts and hormones paled and erased, leaving only a frayed snapshot. An ink Polaroid. 

I remember braids in my hair, ending in olive green beads, lining the nape of my neck. I remember nutrition break (ha ha). I remember, perhaps in stronger tones, being hopelessly in love with Bo, and him dying in a bleak and sterile hospital room while the rest of us sat hopeless in the waiting room. I remember locker bay A, Tiffany, Pam, Kathy and Shannon. Chris, I remember her, and diving helplessly into REM’s Green in her bedroom. I remember feeling completely apart from, but a real connection to U2’s “Surrender” as I learned how to drive in the maroon Cadillac. I remember being terrified that the car phone would ring while I was doing my driver’s test. 

Funny, though, how all real feeling is denied in memories. They really are like pictures, frozen images. There is no real re-creation of a moment in the mind. I can remember how I felt at any given time in the past, but I can’t actually feel it again. The best I can say is that high school was a test of endurance, and I endured.

I am so pleased today is finally Election Day.  All this nonsense will finally be done with.  I've been receiving emails from an ultra-conservative, long-time friend for months now; your usual hysterical crap about Obama being a Muslim and how he's refused to connect with his white heritage.  Blah blah blah.  I finally had to email her and tell her to stop forwarding me that crap.  It reminds me of some ministers idea of a "message from the Lord," piecing together random pieces of scripture to create his very own, personal message and interpretation.  I don't buy any of it.  You can't possibly take something out of context and construe it to mean EXACTLY what you want and have it pass as fact.  At least, I cannot accept that.  I can see it for what it is: whatever someone else wants it to be, rather than a point of truth.  Such bullshit.

I had a conversation with my Mom last night, who is quite beside herself that she managed to raise a Democrat.  We're talking about a woman who has a framed picture of herself with Bush Sr on her home office wall.  Republican to the last fiber of her being.  Hey, I can respect that; can't understand it, but I respect it.  Her exact words to me last night were, "(sigh)... I can't understand how I raised a Democrat.  How could this happen?"  Ha ha.  She's rethinking her parenting strategies now, I'll bet.  But she did a good job.  She held back all of her own generational prejudices and gave me the best of herself and experience, and the result is a fully non-biased, compassionate individual.  Right?  Yep.  And a Democrat to boot.

I want to watch movies.  Adult movies, that don't include animation or puppets or talking trains and magic conductors.  However, that being said, after trawling through the lists at IMDB and Blockbuster, there's nothing I want to see.  How incredibly disappointing.

I have to amend that statement.  There is something I want to see, a British film called "How to Be."  Not out on dvd yet.  Of course.  I did find another film that looked good, then half way through the synopsis, I realized I'd already seen it.  One of the rare adult outings last year, no doubt.  Wasn't even that great.  Ugh. 

It's not like this has never happened before, but I've not felt so underwhelmed in a while at the offerings.   How hard can it be to make a good film.  Come on, a few million, a couple of cameras and a decent script.  Filmmakers:  get to work, man.

I am a horrible mother.  I left my kids costumes at work last night, COMPLETELY forgetting about them dressing up for school.  This was indeed the Nightmare before halloween.  Luckily, being 2 1/2 years and 6 months old respectively, they won't really remember my excruciating error.  This time.  Mwah ha ha.

But tonight will be good times.  I'm going home early to carve pumpkins (something else I couldn't get it together enough to do before RIGHT NOW).  I'm breaking out the cordless drill for this one.  Oh yeah.  There's nothing as satisfying as power tools.  I have grand plans.

I'm craving a mix right now.  What would it include?  You're such a curious reader. 

Math & Physics Club ::  Movie Ending Romance
Rufus Wainwright ::  Cigarettes & Chocolate Milk (remix)
Kings of Convenience ::  Leaning Against the Wall (Versus, Bamboo remix)
Belle & Sebastian ::  Expectations
The Clientele ::  K
Yo La Tengo ::  Autumn Sweater

Those are the essentials.  Mix in a few other things, Sea & Cake, The Coral, The Doves, Badly Drawn Boy (oooo, yeah, from How Did We Get Here? Whirlpool, maybe.  Yum).  Now we're talking.  I miss the Zia days, of walking in and trawling through the racks, hitting A/B first, looking for any B&S bootlegs that Chris might have propped up behind Tigermilk, moving slowly through the 50 cent rack and taking a chance on any title that includes the word "monkey."  It's only 50 cents after all.


Ah, well.  Zia has shut it's doors, I hear.  Another chapter closed.

Unbelievable.  If I had the energy to jump for joy, I would.  Of course, my office is too small.  Released the day after my birthday, The BBC Sessions.  I cannot wait.  Check it out:

Disc 1 – Radio Sessions:
The State I Am In
Like Dylan In The Movies
Judy and the Dream of Horses
The Stars of Track and Field
I Could Be Dreaming
Seymour Stein
Lazy Jane
Sleep The Clock Around
Slow Graffiti
Wrong Love
Shoot The Sexual Athlete
The Magic of a Kind Word
(My Girls Got) Miraculous Technique

Disc 2 – Live in Belfast:
Here Comes The Sun
Theres Too Much Love
The Magic of a Kind Word
Me and the Major
Wandering Alone
The Model
Im Waiting For The Man
The Boy With the Arab Strap
The Wrong Girl
Dirty Dream # 2
Boys Are Back in Town
Legal Man

I don't know about you, but I am feeling the love.  I am back, and I have things to say.  Just, er, not right this minute.