ghosts and angels

ghosts

The cold shivers like ghosts
haunting melody, piano,
keys tie together as if sewn by hand.

how did I wake up today?
solitude is lost like artless prose,
beauty refuses to acknowledge our arrival.

I can hear her sing, faintly,
Clair de Lune,
odeless words sing like old sea shanties.
In early hours I listen for her voice.

What beauty do I have to call to now?
an ode is cast for no arrival,
no hands to capture this melody.

Why is grace to write songs given,
only to be left remote, unknown?

The breeze shivers like angels
haunting refrain, guitar,
strings resigned to quiet peace;

a maid-in-waiting humming softly in the night.

ruby don't go downtown, ruby come in and stay

umm.

damn. I sat down to type some profound thought, but I forgot what it was. bah!

So, life. Last night I put on an arts gallery here at CBC, and about 30 people showed up for conversation, all the while I was making sure a healthy amount of tea and coffee was made, and an even healthier amount of Ryan Adams and Belle & Sebastian were playing in the background.

I owe you pictures. My camera has been on the dead side of things. The picture posted above, for the time being, is a picture of "Afterthoughts"- a cafe I frequent with friends (girls) with images of italian people kissing painted on the walls. I took this picture ten minutes before closing time, after reading some wendell berry.

Everyone, by the way, should read "The Art of the Commonplace" at some point in life.

Tonight I'm hosting a concert for this guy. Thus is my continued life of planning arts shows, trying to suck less at public speaking, and trying to actually experience this thing called "life" I'm always talking about.

Now... if only I could remember what I wanted to say.

Your homework for this week is to listen to Jacob and Lily. I booked an outdoor concert for them last year at school, and it continues to be one of the highlights of my life. "Ruby" is really good.

Enjoy.

no I am not where I belong

For some reason I am way too wired to write anything intelligable, but I will try anyway just to bug you.

Some friends and I took a road trip to a place called "Naam" in Vancouver last night. It was a small vegan place, full of mostly artsy people (with the occasional tradesman guys there who looked really out of place). I must say, I was impressed. I tried a tea made mostly with nettle, peppermint (the kinds of things in my backyard which often fall prey to lawnmowers).

They had this cheescake there with an organic blueberry sauce, which changed how I think about blueberries. In general, actual food has those earthy qualites which almost turn tasting into experiencing.

...As opposed to simulated blueberry flavours, which try and pretend they taste like anything profound. Why eat fake food when the real thing is so easily accesible?

I think, too often, our cultural mindset tells us to go after something that looks like love, or something that tastes sort of like something that tastes good, rather than go for the real thing. Of course, the real thing just takes a bit more work and imagination, doesen't it?

Experiencing life could be as easy as standing outside on a rainy morning, or as difficult as dropping 2000 bucks to fly to some tropical fantasy. I dunno. This notion has always made me kind of cynical- which I don't like to be.

~

In other news, i feel a little down today. Its gray out, I have homework, and I have not payed bills in 3 weeks. Which is all trivial in the grand scheme of things.

This is what being in college is like, friends. Life is, as Anne Lamott described "Pretty good, some problems".

Later

We found our way into the afternoon

Some updates:

1) I finished my paper a couple days ago (A study on Hosea 11). It took way too long, and sections are written way too emotionally. Remind me never to try and express overt amounts of heart into a research paper. Ever again.

I'm just about done doing the editing now. I am, noticably, sick of writing. I did get to uncover some interesting insights on traveling with my paper. Its not too bad.

2) I spent my whole week paper-izing, thus avoiding the vices of romance, holding hands, and kissing under a long sun-set by the west coast ocean. Sigh.

I'm starting to realize, gradually, that life has it's joy whether or not the love we experience is romantic. I could be wrong.

3) Beirut is coming to Vancouver. I can't wait! Well... I can. Because I think my ex is going (bah!). Even so.

4) The picture I just posted is of my friends from Vancouver, Laureate. I'm hoping that, sometime In the next two years, one of these guys will be able to hook me up with a job at JJ Bean- a coffee chain in Vancouver that I really like, being that they sell good coffee, and being that many cute girls work there.

Ah yes. I can see it now. I'll have to go down to the thirft store and artsify my closet soon. Not to mention my life.

5) March is definately the most stressful month of the school year, in terms of assignments. Expect many a sad story this month.

Oh, speaking of that, I wrote three long poems about life in my alone time this break (go figure). Here is one of them:

We found our way into the afternoon,
Or we stumbled, short of grace,
Short of any words to say.
We fill awkward silence with new folk music,
And discuss old books, long trade rides to Salem and
Portland Oregon.
Someone told me that is where coffee calls home.
I’m sure of that.
I’ve always thought coffee was home in commercial drive,
Or else home is wherever we hold hands.

Theres something to be said for community,
Tall stools and light-brown house cappuccinos-
In other places they always look better than they taste,
But not at JJ Bean.
I have yet to find a better coffee than that rainy night we shared
Dark roast in small quaint mugs, white contrasting the Kenyan blend,
With nuances of grapefruit
And quiet spring mornings.

...Sometimes we say words for the sake of saying them,
because they feel good to say, instead of keeping them to ourselves
and living out our days with worry.
Or we leave our questions in small comment boxes
For someone else to pick up and carry
For a little while.

~

In any case. I think we should hang out, who ever is reading this. If we are ever within the same 60 mile radius of each other give me a shout.

I like this plan. Later.

the climbing way

Ok friends, I realize the irony of posting a Raine Maida video on a post devoted to Matt Good... but even so.

I picked up Raine Maida's solo album today, while on mini-road trip to put up posters for the Brad Steeves concert, and pick up the new City and Colour album.
It was an eventful half hour, or so (Brad's show is Feb 21st, 7pm, at CBC. If you live anywhere remotely close to Abbotsford, which more than half of you who read this don't, check this one out).

In other news, I am now broke, and hungry. On the positive side, my experience with fasting has made me less randomly hungry, I have new music (that did not cost and arm and a face, like most Christian albums) and I have pounds of coffee to keep me not-hungry in my bouts of not eating.

Speaking of that, to remove this conversation from my attempts at self-humour, I have been thinking a lot about this organization called Rice Raiser, a group that provides ways for families to eat, at ridiculously affordable prices.

For example, in Sierra Leone, $20.00 provides lunches and snacks for 3 students for one year. In Bangledesh, $1 buys vegetable seeds for 7 families.

So... I'm not really broke, or hungry, by any means in the grand scheme of things. I know music is very much a influential and important part of my life. and food is neccesary for survival.

Now, to what degree can I build a life that offers the greatest amount of sharing, generosity, that builds towards this idea of "enough" that Shane Claiborne talks about, with my love for music and the need for people to eat?

Hmm. So, that is the question I have to leave myself, for now.

Lets talk more about this... over tea. I have had too much coffee today.

Later.

blue sky, white snow

So, I've been thinking a lot lately. Surprisingly.

My computer has been broken for about a week now. Because of this, I have a lot less dead time- time usually reserved for hours on facebook, and downloading films/music.

Now my time has been filled with reading, of all things, and putting together insights.

One thing I thought about today: In Rock Faith and Pop Culture we talked about rebellion. I started to think, but did not share with the class, this idea that a lot of the artists I listen to rebel in ways that allow growth and maturity.

One of the ways "rebellion" was described today was "unconventional creativity" - moving away from cliche music making, to exploring new ways of doing music.

I started listening to Matt Good's new album, "Hospital Music", recently- and album Good wrote after an overdose, and a week in a hospital. In interviews Good talks about being diagnosed with Bi-Polar. All of this produces a raw, uncomfortable, honesty in Hospital Music.

I think this form of rebellion has a lot to do with musical integrity. If you really want to make money as an artist, sell hundreds of CDs, you aren't supposed to write songs about your personal state. Culture itself tells us that being too personal is weird, that deep pain is something to be worked out in private.

Our culture, I am discovering, is less about personal, sincere, honesty and more about being generalized, an average person... being a statistic instead of a person. Rebellion is, I believe, about making music that seeks to questions one's personal state and heart, rather than partake in a consumer-culture saying "this is how you are supposed to write, and live".

In this case Good rebels by writing deeply personal work, rather than write about a car he just bought, a bitter feeling towards an ex, or a late-night in a club. As Sia, another artist I'm listening to, explains, "Some people have real problems".

Thanks for reading. Let's talk.

- Adam