this is where we look for things
10.9.00 - 1:22:51
made dinner tonight. and carrot cake.
oatmeal raisin cookies yesterday.
cooking as therapy can get kinda expensive. especially when it involves buying cooking implements. but i guess once they're bought, you don't have to do it again.
our concert is tomorrow. playing grieg's holberg suite and tchaikovsky's 2nd symphony. good stuff. lots of energy. loud. makes you feel like you're screaming, and it's like, sanctioned by some sort of authority so it's ok. i don't normally feel like i'm allowed to scream.
sometimes i wish i could just live in a vacuum. my own little bubble, free from everything. but then i guess my life wouldn't really be a life because life is just a series of interactions with your environment. so it would be a lot simpler, but probably a lot more aggravating, too. there's just no easy solution, is there? you don't have to answer that.
when i grow up, i want my own island. with a piano and a pony. and lots of 70 degree sunshine. i want my words back so i can write with them. heidegger says that those of us who aren't artists use up our starting material in our process. but those of us who are artists are able to bring out the true quality of that material without using it up. so if i was really an artist, i'd never run out of words. but we're postmodern. our words will never really say what we want them to. language is inadequate. postmodernism. you have to be careful with that stuff. it's enough to make you scream. or give up. i can't really buy into it completely. but it's fun to ponder. well, as much fun as the rest of my pondering, anyway. maybe i just need to quit pondering so much.
crowded house - distant sun. old. but good. really good. music's really gone downhill lately. and all the good stuff sounds completely retro. it's interesting.
today i heard elvis on the oldies station. 'thank you, thank you very much.' he sounded like an imitation of himself, like my memory of an elvis impersonator. a weird feeling. like jameson's idea of pop history. no real history, just our stereotypes and preconceptions of what that history was/is. but what is history? it's always been someone else's words.
and words are so very inadequate when you want to say what you want to say.
