They have this way, this way of writing and preforming music. It is their own music they wrap themselves around like wings, like a shroud-a sense of the departed love, the untouchable grace, the never-was. This is what removed, never-can-be-again noise sounds like. The Rosebuds make this drama come alive, making a drama of hiding and escape, material defeat and spiritual conquest, investing that drama with the passion of their voices and the physical presence of the bodies that hold it. They seem to guide you towards a crack in the invisible wall around their love. All they are doing is telling the story we all know, that of loss, but in a manner that makes the story new-making the familiar unstable, and the comforts of familiarity unsure. The secret of the crowd isn't that we have all hurt the same way, it is that we all begin to think it all over once the first chord is strummed. They take away the identities of their listeners, each one of us falls into their wound.
-Rosebuds 'Loud Planes Fly Low'
Monday, June 20, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
JSB,SNW
Good nights, they had a few solo, but they knew very well that they did better together than they had done in the past. They set off something warm and good in each other. Loneliness dissolved, their nights became warm comfortable meeting of the people, it radiated, it was great, it was grand, you just could not describe it.
Like everyone whose life is conditioned by luck, he had some brilliant streaks of it and some that were dismal. It was that luck that was operating that first night. The combination of those two seemed to make for a wildness in the air, the atmosphere of their city was excited, like New Year's Eve. Yes, maybe it was a lucky combination of circumstances, but the first months they were together was brilliant. At that time, before they had titles or complications, it was pure seduction.
That night, the night they first had sex together, it happened casually, it was not important nor too satisfactory. Maybe they were too anxious to please one another, each a little too afraid of disappointing. Sex is made to be a little selfish to have any true excitement. The first time between strangers can feel like a blaze of light, euphoric even. The first time between people who know each other well and have an established affection, it tends to be self-conscious, even a bit embarrassing. Of course those drunken nights, those blind drunken nights, those are the nights that come alive.
Sometimes they had serious conversations, though most of the time he tried to keep the talk on a frivolous plane. She could tell it troubled him to talk about serious matters probably because some topics were too serious to be talked about in comfort. For the first month or so both pretended not to have a mind anyone could talk to. Gradually they discovered in each other the others things, the mutual pursuit of all things endless and indefatigable. This became the mainstay of their relationship, they slyly began to respect each other, not merely to like and enjoy, but respect as neither had ever respected another person.
It was through this blossomed respect that they found something honest, something raw, something heartfelt. He was her only close friend, and she was his. She was deeply drawn to the boy, he was not quite sure, watching her all the time with unabated interest.
It was later that spring in the small southern city that the ill health of their relationship became apparent. He did not speak of his suffering, but he would sometimes check on her, see if the pain had subsided. She behaved as if she was suffering from some disgraceful secret. She would snarl, she would yell. She made elaborate effort to conceal nothing.
It was the later days, he would stand as sure in the sun and powerful as the sun itself; but then a little shadow of uncertainty would touch him again. She would think him a boy again at moments like those, about seventeen.
Like everyone whose life is conditioned by luck, he had some brilliant streaks of it and some that were dismal. It was that luck that was operating that first night. The combination of those two seemed to make for a wildness in the air, the atmosphere of their city was excited, like New Year's Eve. Yes, maybe it was a lucky combination of circumstances, but the first months they were together was brilliant. At that time, before they had titles or complications, it was pure seduction.
That night, the night they first had sex together, it happened casually, it was not important nor too satisfactory. Maybe they were too anxious to please one another, each a little too afraid of disappointing. Sex is made to be a little selfish to have any true excitement. The first time between strangers can feel like a blaze of light, euphoric even. The first time between people who know each other well and have an established affection, it tends to be self-conscious, even a bit embarrassing. Of course those drunken nights, those blind drunken nights, those are the nights that come alive.
Sometimes they had serious conversations, though most of the time he tried to keep the talk on a frivolous plane. She could tell it troubled him to talk about serious matters probably because some topics were too serious to be talked about in comfort. For the first month or so both pretended not to have a mind anyone could talk to. Gradually they discovered in each other the others things, the mutual pursuit of all things endless and indefatigable. This became the mainstay of their relationship, they slyly began to respect each other, not merely to like and enjoy, but respect as neither had ever respected another person.
It was through this blossomed respect that they found something honest, something raw, something heartfelt. He was her only close friend, and she was his. She was deeply drawn to the boy, he was not quite sure, watching her all the time with unabated interest.
It was later that spring in the small southern city that the ill health of their relationship became apparent. He did not speak of his suffering, but he would sometimes check on her, see if the pain had subsided. She behaved as if she was suffering from some disgraceful secret. She would snarl, she would yell. She made elaborate effort to conceal nothing.
It was the later days, he would stand as sure in the sun and powerful as the sun itself; but then a little shadow of uncertainty would touch him again. She would think him a boy again at moments like those, about seventeen.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
love, romance and other bullshit
A cigarette rest between his lips. That's all it took for her to notice him. The lit cigarette sends smoke gliding through the air covering just enough of his face to raise her eyebrow, mystery was always her guilty pleasure. She checks her reflection in the glass of the jukebox then makes her first attempt at seduction.
Nonchalance has gotten her everywhere in life so she saunters up to the opposite end of the bar, orders a shot of jameson with a pbr back. She realizes this may make her look as if she was a girl from brooklyn, but why start this love affair off with lies, she is a girl from brooklyn. their eyes meet.
Just as she thought he was a charmer, a hard catch, but she's dealt with this type before. The guy who has underdeveloped confidence, just enough to keep you guessing but not enough to come to you. At the moment of eye contact the whistle blew and the game was on.
... to be continued ... too tired to finish tonight.
Nonchalance has gotten her everywhere in life so she saunters up to the opposite end of the bar, orders a shot of jameson with a pbr back. She realizes this may make her look as if she was a girl from brooklyn, but why start this love affair off with lies, she is a girl from brooklyn. their eyes meet.
Just as she thought he was a charmer, a hard catch, but she's dealt with this type before. The guy who has underdeveloped confidence, just enough to keep you guessing but not enough to come to you. At the moment of eye contact the whistle blew and the game was on.
... to be continued ... too tired to finish tonight.
Friday, May 13, 2011
questions
somethings on my mind. i'm not sure how to write it down so i'm just going to hold it in for now, maybe soon i'll be ready to share.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
reflections
when i think about my future i think about the places i want to go, the places i want to explore.
am i suppose to be happy when everything i ever wanted comes with a price.
well in a way i'm happier than i have ever been, right here in my little studio apartment in the middle of the brooklyn ghetto. but again the quote above speaks volumes, i'm happier than ever right now in this minute but it has come with a price; a huge price some may say. i have used people, i have hurt people, i have made mistakes, i have cried, i have laughed, i have pretended, i have said things that weren't true, i have manipulated, i have done everything, even fight, to get to this point of happiness.
i left everything, i hit the highway in full sprint never to expect i'd look back but here i am looking far back into my past. i'm finally realizing everything has a reason, every choice i've made and everything i'm doing is a direct reflection of my past. now i'm on a journey to open up the shadows of my past and reveal to myself what it is i'm running from.
here's a few pictures from my life here thus far, enjoy:
am i suppose to be happy when everything i ever wanted comes with a price.
well in a way i'm happier than i have ever been, right here in my little studio apartment in the middle of the brooklyn ghetto. but again the quote above speaks volumes, i'm happier than ever right now in this minute but it has come with a price; a huge price some may say. i have used people, i have hurt people, i have made mistakes, i have cried, i have laughed, i have pretended, i have said things that weren't true, i have manipulated, i have done everything, even fight, to get to this point of happiness.
i left everything, i hit the highway in full sprint never to expect i'd look back but here i am looking far back into my past. i'm finally realizing everything has a reason, every choice i've made and everything i'm doing is a direct reflection of my past. now i'm on a journey to open up the shadows of my past and reveal to myself what it is i'm running from.
here's a few pictures from my life here thus far, enjoy:
Sunday, April 24, 2011
long drive to you
i feel the excitement again. i'm ill-prepared for the ride but i'm strapped into my car seat waiting for the green light. maybe one day i'll have the green light, right now though i'm happily-ever-after slowing for the yellow.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Apples, the red kind.
dreams crash and burn, leaving you empty inside. i'm surrounded by life, lights and vibrancy of this city. i fell in love some time ago, when i was a much less salted wound but i can see my love still flickers, however dim it may be as of recent. i'm a baby in this flock of adults, i'm trying to find my sea legs. finishing the days accompanied by my thoughts and the sound of my fingers tapping away is not an unusual sound, but this time it is more comforting. i'm not heartbroken crying over my keys, i'm not whining over the city, people, work, or trivial. i'm leaving the past, i'm forgetting the hurt or pain i once made up, i'm just me alone living life in a city that never sleeps. And these are my own words, true and raw.
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