The future was in my evening ear.....

I don't expect to write much about music on this blog
unless it really hits a note (shit pun I know).
However after rolling around the city with the new Future Islands
album In Evening Air reverberating my ears and soul, I will have to admit that I
couldn't pass up the opportunity to preach the radness of this album to all who dare listen.
Incorporating elements of Tom Waits, Bowie, Joy Division or Gary Newman onto any album is going to help an albums cause.
But dropping all four into one album makes for some fucking swell
listening.
Im not going to give you a run down of the tracks or tell you about the band. I know i'll fuck it up. Instead I'm going to encourage you to rest the cynic inside who's screaming "it's just more gay indie shit". Throw caution (or a kite or rock or whatever your holding) to the wind and appreciate the throwback to the aforementioned collective of greats I heard while I was strolling the streets.

Kurt's Cradle

In an attempt too up my cutural ante so too speak,
I went out last week and purchased two brand new Penguin Classics
for the not so princely sum of 26 dollars and two stamps on my Unity
Book bonus card.
Now the reason behind these purchases was to rekindle my love affair with
good literature. This is an affair that has contained many ups and downs. From the epic heights of Ayn Rands Atlas Shrugged to the despairingly disappointing depths of convincing myself
that Stuff, poker blogs and various magazines are legitimate forms of reading.
Hah how foolish I have been.
The discipline to openly engage oneself with a book is by no means an easy feat.
It takes time, consideration, patience and concentration, but by fuck its worth it.

So back to the two books I purchased.
Number 1: Cats Cradle-Kurt Vonnegut
Number 2: Love in the Time of Cholera-Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

I write this just after finishing Cat's Cradle. I chose this book as
it presented a realistic reintroduction to good writing as it is shortish
in length and has provided me with an apt amount of satisfaction.
"We knocked the bastard off" I could say in a homage to my fellow
countryman and explorer Sir Ed.

Anyway the purpose behind this blog is to explore another avenue of my being
that has nagged and jostled and pulled and kicked, and scraped and dragged,
and punched and bounced and.........you get my drift.
Can I write?
I don't know but I think its time I tried..............

Cats Cradle a review of sorts

Now being the master of sci fi writing that he is Vonnegut does not
disappoint as he attacks the readers mind with an invented religion that both baffles and
engages the reader.
The protagonist for this story does not fall within a certain character as you may assume but
more with an ideal and that is Bokonism. Bokonism is Vonneguts, fate, tyranny, hope, ideals and full scale religious model all rolled into one.
The story follows Jonah an everyman and his quest to record recollections of what people
were doing on the fateful day Hiroshima was bombed. His journey soon takes a twist as he is thrown into a series of events, involving the three children of the man responsible for the A-bomb and the draconian situation on the island of San Lorenzo.

As the journey develops Vonnegut's power of satire becomes unmistakable as he explores the contradiction of religion, the ferocity of the arms race, and the inordinate stupidity of mankind.
Wrapped up in a headlong plunge into an end of the world scenario with a typically Vonnegutesque (not a word) twist. The reader is treated to a bitterly ironic yet funny tale that leaves you praying to avoid (yet oddly curious about) the future and the ice-9's yet to come.

I suggest you read this book its fucking epic (but not cause its long)

going to look at infrared photos now

NYC under attack......

I don't mean to alarm anyone but New York
has just been schooled by a pixel invasion.
Lucky for you Patrick Jean (motionographer extraordinaire) managed to capture the event
and transformed his footage into this dope little short which i think you all
should watch.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ou8vRWTSsJo

Breathless

Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that
resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination.
Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings,
photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations,
architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds,
bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things
to steal from that speak directly to your soul. if you do
this, your work (and theft) will be authentic.
Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent.
And don't bother concealing your thievery - celebrate
it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember
what Jean-Luc Godard said" It's not where you take
things from- it's where you take them to."

Jim Jarmusch

This is my ode to authenticity
I hope you like it.