proteanme

Don’t ask me to explain in any detail cause this isn’t an intellectual endeavor, it’s more experiential, but I suppose it does say something about the kinda guy I am. First, there’s Al Green. And then of course there’s some Johnny Cash and Elvis Presley and James Brown. Oh and the longing of Chet Baker. And as one would expect there are songs by the the Who, the Kinks, the Pixies, the Beatles, Velvet Uuderground and even the Beach Boys (apologies go out to a certain girl that I’m not including the Doors or Stones here) plus a whole smattering of stuff from 70’s AM radio.  But man oh man, I was surprised, way surprised, to hear Glen Campbell last night and have a moment of getting my guy on. Tapped right into something prehistoric, prehistoric in relation to my own personal history.

I’ve got this new mix going on my ipod that I call, “longing”.  It hits the spot, even if it’s a tender one.  It’s got the Kinks, Cat Power, Sera Cahoone, Lucinda Williams and depending on if I’m at work of home, it’s also got Al Green and Bjork.

My CSA share started about amonth ago and that’s led to a number of Mondays in my kitchen.  I’m happy to report I’ve had some early successes, like lettuce smothered in pancetta, marinated carrots and balsamic onion jam. One of the things I like best about the share is it forces me out of old habits and I end cooking things that I might not have picked out myself.

Oh and for you Portlanders I found some of the best Chinese food I’ve ever had here and it’s in China town, of all places.  I can’t remember the name of the palce, but it’s right across the street from he Magic Garden.  Hmmm, what am I doing at the Magic Garden?!

A song will come on in my headphones sometimes and I can barely hold it together. Cause it tugs so hard at this longing I have for all the nuances of love that make the acreage I need to be close to someone so much more manageable. Oh to see my shoes with hers, to leave behind some shirt of mine in her closet, to hear her say, “hey baby”, to know she keeps my key in her pocket. I swear that would be enough.

Feeling restless and unsatisfied the other day I started thinking about about my incubating list and in an effort to put words into practice I got my ass in the kitchen and cooked up a small storm. Made some pasta from scratch for the first time and it it was a satisfying endeavor all the way around. The fresh pasta and dried garbanzo beans really made this simple dish tasty. And I imagine fresh tomatos would make it sublime.

I’m psyched that I’ll be going to see Destroyer tonight. One of my favorite artists over the last several years – a cross between Dylan and Bowie. Rubies was a great record and Trouble in Dreams had been getting alot of play recently.

Hedwig inspired sexiness from a band called The Knife.

I was listening to John Wayne Gacy by Sufjan Stevens with a friend and she was saying something to the effect of how the lyrics were just too depressing, especially in juxtaposition to that really beautiful and haunting melody. I was thinking about how that was the whole point, how that melody brought some humanity to the darkness, and how we’ll never figure out the dark in us as long as its confined to the realm of what’s inhuman.

I’ve got a pretty sexy dance mix I’d be willing to post to a hidden page if anyone is interested in getting down on the dance floor. Put your request in the comments with your email and I’ll send you the link.

Good lord, am I so easy that I’ll give it up for some strings and a little trumpet?  I am talking music here, in case I’m giving anybody the wrong idea.

There are certain parts of songs – a piano line, the beginning of a chorus, a little bitty guitar solo – that feel like my girl’s running her fingers through my hair, all absent minded, but I’m leaning in anyway to what feels so tender.

Been listening to lots and lots of music lately and various sets of lyrics are staying with me:

From One with Freaks by Notwist
You’re the pincard,
you’re the lifeguard,
you’re the information guy,
but things look much bigger on the knees, on your knees.
Miss the signal,
miss the signpost,
lose the access to it all.
and all of a sudden you are one with the freaks.
Have you ever, have you ever been all messed up, have you ever?

From Passing Afternoon by Iron and Wine
There are names across the sea, only now I do believe
Sometimes, with the windows closed, she’ll sit and think of me
But she’ll mend his tattered clothes and they’ll kiss as if they know
A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone