When you love something like reading — or drawing or music or nature — it surrounds you with a sense of connection to something great. If you are lucky enough to know this, then your search for meaning involves whatever that Something is. It’s an alchemical blend of affinity and focus that takes us to a place within that feels as close as we ever get to “home.” It’s like pulling into our own train station after a long trip — joy, relief, a pleasant exhaustion.
~ Anne Lamott, Stitches. A Handbook on Meaning, Hope & Repair
A Hawaiian mother/daughter duo. If you close your eyes, these two will transport you to the Islands. Devine, soulful, spiritual.
Can you feel the breeze? Hear the ocean breaking on the shoreline?
Aloha Kakahiaka. (Good morning)
My early morning routine, My zone, My sweet spot, is detonated.
I’m on the mid-afternoon train to Manhattan.
Everything is out of order. Way out of order.
It’s a sparsely occupied train.
A few Suits. Students. Tourists chattering. Children buzzing.
All rules of order violated. Quiet Car? What’s that?
The landscape is foreign as it flashes by the window.
The whites of winter turn to the darks of buildings, and back. Strobe lights. Disco. Discombobulating.
Pulse quickens. Wrong train? No. Daylight. Mr. Hyde makes his appearance in Light, flings his robe back, and works to shake off his lethargy.
Eyes are heavy from scanning emails. Words are merging together. Regurgitation, without nourishment. Chewing, remembering nothing, looping back to re-read. Sigh.
I give up. [Read more…]
Fréro Delavega is a French musical duo made up of Jérémy Frérot and Flo Delavega who took part in season 3 of the French musical competition series The Voice: la plus belle voix. The duo’s website can be found here: frerodelavega.com
If you liked this, check out the duo singing Skinny Love (cover Birdy)
I did the rough math this morning.
Each morning on most working days,
and a number of evenings out,
aggregates to tying a neck tie 7,000 times.
The ritual is never preceded with a telephone chit chat.
Never with a high ball.
NEVER with a five o’clock shadow.
And certainly never with the Lumineers crooning Morning Song in the backdrop.
What the h*ll am I doing wrong? :)
There is a species of spider that hunts by releasing chemicals that imitate the sex pheromones of moths. When its prey arrives, high on fantasies of romance, the spider hits it with a sticky blob of web, then devours it. Scientists call this “aggressive mimicry.”
This is something like the operating principle behind Fleetwood Mac’s 1979 album “Tusk.” The trap is set with the first track: a lite-rock masterpiece, in roughly the tempo of a summer nap, called “Over & Over.” The singer’s voice is smooth and sad, a melon-flavored wine cooler on a vacant beach at sunset with the one you know will eventually leave you. The keening cheese-ball lyrics (“all you have to do is speak out my name, and I will come running”) are so generic as to be almost meaningless, and these words float on top of a clean acoustic strum, which is punctuated neatly by a clean snare, which is colored in turn by the very clean jangles of an undistorted electric guitar.
It is, in other words, quintessential Fleetwood Mac: classic FM-radio easy listening — an absolute top-shelf lighter-swaying anthem. Not a note is out of place. (This may be the spot to mention that the birth name of the song’s lead vocalist, Christine McVie, is actually Christine Perfect.) The band’s three-voiced choir is in full-on angel-harmony mode — “Oooooooooooo a-ooo-ooo-OOO-ooo-oooooooooooo” — and as the refrain drones on (“over and over, over and over, over and over”) you can feel your pulse beginning to slow, and you step through the bead curtains into the dim back room of your consciousness, where the lava lamp still blorbles and the ylang-ylang incense burns and you can bathe forever in the radiant black light of the perpetual 1970s.
Don’t miss entire article by Sam Anderson here: Letter of Recommendation: Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Tusk”: