Archive for March 2010

3.24.10

taizokai mandala

Returning to the womb for a micro-view of the universe. Found here.

Posted at 12pm on 3/24/10 | 1 comment | Filed Under: art & artists | read on

3.24.10

cosmic love

The stars! The moon! Those drums!
This song is epic.
Love how Florence sometimes has that Grace Slick warble thing going on.

Posted at 12pm on 3/24/10 | 1 comment | Filed Under: female voices, music | read on

3.24.10

fire rainbow

Circumhorizon arc.

Posted at 12pm on 3/24/10 | 1 comment | Filed Under: photography | read on

3.23.10

surfing the amazon

Surfing the Pororoca (the longest wave on earth) a surge of Atlantic Ocean waters that roll up the Amazon twice a year. Freakin’ insane with all that debris, but if you can hack it the continuous wave looks like a total rush.

Posted at 12pm on 3/23/10 | 3 comments | Filed Under: random | read on

3.22.10

emerald ice

Emerald Ice
by Diane Wakoski

If I were a jeweler,
I’d look for emeralds the color of
healthy basil leaves, pungent and thick and green
as parrots;
and if I were a woman who had emeralds weighing down
her harpsichordian hands and nudging her neck
as they turn warm but do not melt,
I would hold my emerald-laden hand
against this new snow which covers the not yet frozen
November ground, the liquid hardness of the stones
contrasting with the chalky softenss of the snow.

For just a moment at least until,
if I were an astronomer, mirroring an arc of light which
might mean a new galaxy
has been discovered, I might name
this phemonemon, “Emerald Ice,’
to tell you how
beautiful these things are to me.

But none of it would
matter, if I didn’t dream of boys
with leather aviator jackets,
or men who rode motorcycles into the living room, once,
or the Silver Surfer who might travel with me,
nude of emeralds, a galactic wonderer.

What could matter
if there were any sex or love that could
transcend death,
speed faster than my imagination
or the light?

What could matter
if these boys,
if all men,
were not just memories like emeralds,
or pungent basil,
new snow,
throwing their scuffed leather jackets carelessly
over my empty bed,
while I am surfing,
streaming,
light trailing my heels,
from galaxy to galaxy,
trying to escape death?

What could matter if life
was really about sex
instead of learning
to die?
Isn’t orgasm called
“the little death”? Or is that something else?
like eating the best
fresh-leaved pesto on homemade noodles,
drinking an icy, or is it
snowy
eau de vie? one drop of which glistens
over the basil,
and together they are the only
emerald.

Do women dream
the Saturnian ice of emeralds and sapphires
because men never touch them? They sleep
alone in snowy sheets,
surfing galactic oceans.

We pretend,
but there is no mystery
in either sex or death. Just –
the unthinkable.

The one,
always elusive, never attainable, missing
as soon as you seem to have it.

The other
always waiting, unavoidable, something
no one escapes.

(Photo)

Posted at 11am on 3/22/10 | 4 comments | Filed Under: blogs, music | read on

3.22.10

the great white northern lights

This beautifully shot doc just premiered at SXSW. S’gonna be gooood. (That Jack sure wears a kilt well.) The Playlist raves…

Raw, rough-hewn and yet roaring with an electric vitality Emmet Malloy’s “The White Stripes: Under Great White Northern Lights” is the blueprint for music docs that all filmmakers should strive for: ones that are loose, feel like they have a sense of danger to them and crackle with life. Without spoiling too much, the concluding, wordless scene is flooring. On the 10th anniversary of the band’s existence — still to this date their last show ever played so far — Jack White takes to a piano, exhausted, to play “White Moon.” It’s not for anyone other than Jack himself and Meg who quietly saddles up next to him on the piano bench. As White moans through the devastating catharsis of the song, Meg begins to gently weep as Malloy’s team silently captures the moment. It’s utterly breathtaking and quivers with emotion and magical, unspoken depth. Did the band break up in that moment? (That’s the rumor, they haven’t played since). It is a goodbye or happy tiresome tears for 10 years on the road or just of the moment? We may never know and it’s as beautiful a scene as anything burned onto celluloid we’ve seen this year.

Posted at 10am on 3/22/10 | 1 comment | Filed Under: documentaries, film, music, trailers | read on

3.22.10

ocean stream

Peter took this photo of a mountain stream meeting the ocean last night. He used a slow exposure and some kind of gradient filter. Love the flowing movement of this shot and all the tiny little silty details. Peter, you really need to update your portfolio!

Posted at 10am on 3/22/10 | no comments; | Filed Under: photography | read on

3.21.10

shadow puppets

The revolution will not be animated. Check out this video which was made only with shadow, light and paper – no computer effects, no animation. Discover all about Stories From The Ground and their delightful shadow puppetry here.

Posted at 12pm on 3/21/10 | no comments; | Filed Under: art & artists | read on

3.20.10

{artist} fred tomaselli

Some pretty wild photo collages.

Posted at 12pm on 3/20/10 | no comments; | Filed Under: art & artists | read on

3.20.10

cherry bomb

Check out the newly minted music video for “Cherry Bomb” cobbling together scenes from The Runaways movie. Thanks to the sweetest friend of mine (who knew of my obsession with The Runaways), we got to attend the premiere while at Sundance in January. I, for one, thoroughly enjoyed this rock n’ roll picture show. Kristen and Dakota are totally entertaining to watch as Joan and Cherrie. Floria Sigismondi (the director) nails the 70’s vibe/aesthetic. And Michael Shannon is electric as The Runaways sleazy manager. While the film won’t revolutionize the rock n’ roll biopic, it definitely pays fitting and stylish homage to a noteworthy slice of rock history!

After the screening there was an “all-star” Q&A. Some kid asked Joan Jett how she felt about times changing since the 70’s when young girls were still an anomaly in the rock industry. With her raspy, Pennsylvania accent Joan asked the kid, “Times have changed?” Which begs the question, why are there so few girl rock bands? So few female rockers? Where are all the Suzie Quatros out there? Is rock n’ roll really a man’s world? Survey says, yes.

Behold, the untouchable original:

Posted at 12pm on 3/20/10 | 2 comments | Filed Under: female voices, music | read on

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