My Favorite Painters
1. I feel the poor quality of the video is entirely overshadowed my how fantastic they are.
2. Compare what they're doing to the audience. Love the 60's. Glad I live on this side of them, though.
Howlin' Wolf
It is rare I find music I love, especially if it was recorded less than forty years ago. I like a lot of music, but music that makes me say "I can't live without it, must get me that album immediately or I'll die trying"? That's tough to stumble onto. So how rare is it that you find that music, it's so new the album isn't out yet, AND it's made by a friend who happens to be ridiculously talented and share your same musical tastes? I'd say that's highly convenient.
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Kyle and drummer Tony, in a pic I snatched from their facebook, so hopefully they never read this. |
Kyle, and his band Beware of Darkness, are heading to SXSW this month and their album comes out in... April? May? Whenever, not soon enough.
The Big Point
Point Mugu has always fascinated me, because with a name like that, how could it not? It's not a comical spot, despite the word, and in some ways I think the title does it a disservice despite how delightful it is to say. Considering how often I pass by its striking promontory, the stone behemoth of Mugu never fails to affect me. Maybe it's because for me it's the dividing line-- one side is the beauty of Malibu before the frenzy of LA, while the other is the doldrums of Oxnard, the doze before the dream that is Santa Barbara. It's a beautiful spot, seemingly remote despite it's centrality, a tiny taste of the rugged coastlines found to the north. Sometimes I go to Mugu just to remind me of those shores I really love.
La Vie Francaise
A Little Something
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"Autumn Moon, the High Sierra from Glacier Point" (Ansel Adams, 1948) |
Dapples of
fire on a rippling breeze,
Breath feels
clear as a mountain spring
To sit for a
moment beneath all that is,
The most
pure of all things.
The
compression of life
When it’s
tangled in masses
Is met only
by silence,
Hidden deep
in crevasses.
Wherever one
goes,
Truth is not
far behind,
It surrounds
and envelops you,
Alone
stopping time.
Taos Pueblo
Such a truly magical place! So beautiful, it feels remote and otherworldly, but also far more grounded in reality than any city.
I don't own one, but I like the idea
"Blue blooded. Cold. What happened to luxury? Where did all the personality go? The gusto? The glamour? We believe you can have it all. Luxury with lightning in its veins. Charismatic. Daring. Derivative of nothing. This is what fuels us. The reason we're not satisfied with blue blooded ordinary, and demand red blooded extraordinary. This is why we don't just make luxury cars, we make Cadillacs."
a whispering breeze
beware, white man, of the friendly forest,
of the painted desert, beware of the singing water
lest you find your mother
and she pounce and devour you
--Jaime de Angulo
"Home Among the Swinging Stars"
Coming Soon
I recently spent a few days at a hermitage in Big Sur, or to clarify, a Benedictine monastery of hermetic monks. They make their living from renting out rooms to the wayward relaxation-seeker. They also sell fabulous brandy-soaked fruit cakes. I've got a thought or two about that I'm going to throw down here as soon as I type it up off my Moleskine.
Here are a few pictures of the trip to set the scene.
Big Surf
Last week I witnessed some of the biggest waves I've seen on a beach-- well, certainly for sleepy Cayucos. A quiet half-fogged morning saw foam higher than the pier. So, I walked out on the pier. Where better to enjoy a coffee and two snickerdoodles (one of which was complimentary because "the one I gave you was not perfectly round")?
Haiku pour le Fin de l'Annee
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