Green and White all over

The Cove

Must See Film: The Cove
It's so up Upsetting it's Unbelievable
Humans are the most Cruel Animal Nature has ever Invented

Do you think this bike will look Classic some day?
I hope so.

I really wanted something OldSchool.
But I guess I'll have to settle for OldSchool in the Future.

honestly simple.

Look Close. Look Closer.
What do you see?
That's right:
Two June Bugs Gettin it On.

Whereby Flesh Resolves into a Dew

I was lonely
and you were too busy to notice
I was lonely
and you were too focused on being busy to care

I reached out
and you changed the subject
I reached out
and you expressed sentiment
with no intention of following through

Empty
--Stunning
Disingenuous
--Scathing

So Disconnected
Imprisoned by the Surface
Manifesting the Purple Elephant

Hurt
Shame
Disillusionment
Fear

Anger
Barrier
Nothing could be Enough
Crazy
No

Broken
Yes

Irrepara...
?

Dis-solution
I want to Fade
I Hate

Past the Point
and its Me

Saturday Night with B&W

Follow this link to a video of Crossed Out Name

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SOiGS_mZCfc

Another Ryan Adams Blog Post

These are Ryan Adams’ invisi-pets, Barnabus and Wilson.

Dear Wilson,

I know you have been skipping school ( I was once your age too although I am old now and I know you think I was born old and that is the essence of youth dear invisi-pet sheep dog) BUT, I am not upset with you. I just want you to know that. I can tell you are trying desperately to hide that fact from me on the phone since I have been away. I also saw the phone charges on your “fictional-not-real-animal-cell-phone” you got for your last birthday, and I am not sure who you are calling at those hours (?) but as long as you keep it to once or twice a week I am sure it will be fine- but remember- if it someone you admire, some invisi-pet across the globe, that writing a letter can be sometimes far more effective and also, a personal touch- an actual document is regarded very highly to a friend or a possible crush- as we are now (even for some time before you were born)- in a world of fleeting digital sentiments and they can sometimes make for disconnections-( trust me )- there was once only us living things and our handwriting and our memorized telephone numbers (we had to do that, i knew TONS by heart) to pass along our story, day to day, year to year.

Please listen to Baranbus, he is older and he understands a great deal more than you think even if he comes off “bossy” (your words not mine) but this is because he cares a great deal for you as you are his younger brother and PLEASE make sure Dumont is taking his medication. I noticed when he started to get “a little quiet” a few weeks before I left for work. I worry about him. He reads far too much Sartre and I think as much as he loves you and Barbabus and home he really feels far away inside. He has some of the same issues I have- and you must be careful with him.He is and will always be French through and through and his issues are his own. He is proud and noble and it is his nature to hide things from you when he is feeling very unwell and sad. Be patient with him Wilson, you are by nature full of hope and as much as he seems put off by that, when you are not looking, it does rub off on him and I see a slight smirk in his posture, sitting there not moving as invisi-pets often do when they are lost in thought.You have to just try and understand your adopted inivi-brother and accept him for who he is, and love him all the same on his good days and bad.

Work has been very trying and I miss staring blankly at you at home and sleeping for four or five days in a row. Also, I miss movie night and even though you are always so happy to eat fruit-salad with me on the t.v. tray on the bed while I suffer my depressions, I think it’s marvelous you have taken such affinity for Elizabeth Bowen. I will buy you copy of “The Heat of the Day” while I am abroad and I’m sure you will like it as much as “The Death of the Heart” although, I did notice you are reading it AGAIN- (you do that a lot when you like a book- and you think, “oh dad, he’s so self-centered he doesn’t notice”) well- ha! and just look, pops has some life left in him yet.

anyway, it’s cold here and I stayed at a hotel ( ) once stayed at and I left feeling just haunted. It is a lot of work growing up. The hardest part is not allowing it to happen to your heart, because, and Wilson, you will discover this in your own time, the real battle of life is not caving into letting go of your sense of wonder.

When you get to be my age you will discover that is what most of this “growing-up” is about. It’s about allowing yourself to know who you really are, forgiving yourself for how you let yourself think you were something you weren’t while you were settling in for that very moment of realization, and not letting that destroy the thing you were before all that “thinking” and “self-analysis” get in the way.

Anyway, I miss you even though we are both invisible things no matter how much light we might pass under, if only for those moments, and I want you to be sure that no matter what choices you are making with your school work as long as you are feeling good and okay about just being “you” I will be happy and I will always be here for you.

after all, we are family-

and it is much easier to not exist comfortably together as long as we are together.

I am off to work now, please send my love to your brothers and tell them I will see them soon and of course, I love and miss you very much- and you may read the books you requested in my locked book-case on the condition you DO NOT write in them (they are not paperback copies to be thrashed around) and also that you replace them where you found them as they are in a specific order and I may need to reference them in a hurry when I am working from home, just so we understand each other- ok. The key is in the mouth of the fake real looking skull above the book drawer next to the picture of Humphrey DeForest Bogart, your father’s favorite actor besides Johnny Depp who is amazing in everything. To open the skull (they used it once in classes at a university ib the 40’s so the story goes) you press the side- the springs holding the jam to the head will unlock and you CAREFULLY reach inside and, ta-da- there is the key. Barbabus may also read whatever is inside but please keep Dumont away from the Existentialist and Classical Romantic Novels as he is depressed enough as it is. Maybe you could ask him if he’d like to go to the park some afternoon. I think some fresh air would do him good.

Yours Always,

Pops

Better than a Human. Any Day.

Sensitive Mr. Merlin

A Blog Post from Ryan Adams

An ONLINE MUSIC publication described my blog as “bi-polar”. Isn’t that sweet.
I love that. I think it was especially due to my use of “Fickle-Blogging” which is really the lovely process of creating a blog, giving it an actual life-span (I actually time them sometimes, by the minute), then destroying that blog. So that it is actually like a memory or like weather. I enjoy the idea of the blog being an actual entity outside it’s creator. Like a Robot. Like I was just a suggestion and the blog itself were the vessel. Very abstract, sure, hardly “bi-ploar.”
Of note, when I am being honest in my blogs (which only I know because I choose to fill them with truths distracted by absurdity) I touch on real subjects that affect me which I have never hidden in my work. Depression being one of those things. Panic disorder being another.
I think maybe I came from a time, and maybe even a place, where examining and even allowing one’s self to feel everything, was normal. What a lesson it is for me now that I am older to become less afraid to let myself have those feelings. All of them. I am quite sure passionate people do this. They feel elated, and other times they feel sad. I know, in a single day, those things happen to others. Certainly my books can’t all be just fictional characters based on actual people who did not feel. To feel things, is human. To let yourself go into those feelings and translate what happened, and what it meant, well, that takes discipline.
And you know, I don’t have an “off” switch. I never did. I had to pay for alcohol and fog up at least one night of a week in my past so I could feel like I was starting all over. But now, it is one long life. No breaks. And that comes with a lot of new feelings which build and become beautiful, and even, sometimes very sad or strange statues of time and emotion. I am blown away by just how much information I collect over time. It is great. And powerful and I love life, even the bleakest and darkest nights. They all break, eventually, with the light of a new day, or sometimes, hidden behind those awful moments the loveliest treasures emerge. Like a gift.
I enjoy writing about it all. It feels very true.
It is a shame that so many people try so hard to be something they are not, to seem even, at the expense of not getting to know what it is to be free in your feelings. And I am lucky to be able to express myself in so many ways. I taught myself all the forms of art I know, so I go to them honestly and my relationship with my medium is always solid and not filled with hesitation. This makes me so happy and has all my life allowed me to be my own best friend when I needed it the most. When the world was just too disappointing. And especially when I was the one behind that disappointment.
So I guess what I am saying here right now is, it feels good to be true to what I am. It feels right to be a lot and sometimes a mess and sometimes a good listener and sometimes bat-shit crazy.
It is the nature of being me.
And also, after all this time, no matter what the perception, I always know I am the very basic thing I always wanted to be;
PUNK AS FUCK.
have a nice week.

[posted 3.24.08 on DRADAMSFILMS.com]

Things of Interest

The Happy Child: Changing the Heart of Education. By Steven Harrison

The Living School
The Waldorf School

The Business of Being Born. A documentary film by Ricki Lake and Abby Epstein.

Leanin Tree Museum

Some sorta peace is on the horizon. And its scary. Its scary to have to come so far to finally begin to approach myself. Its too scary to know I somehow got this far away from myself and am only beginning to hone in. I don't wanna even know what that means for everything I've already done. been. Its too scary for me. How did I let myself get so far away?

What if somewhere along the way my Persevere chip just got disconnected?

What if somewhere along the way My Reason just got smashed?

What if my Desire got lost in hibernation?

I remember the feeling of it hurting so bad I just gave up the struggle. Nothing hurts after you pass a certain threshold. The numbness is blessed cause you know you'll never go back. Once past the point, its all downhill.
The Numbness of Surrender is Blessed.

I can't care who stole my fight, anymore.
But something stole my fight.
Wish I knew when.

Somehow I got broke.
Broken.
My Spirit got broke.

I see all these people around me sniffing highs, but I can't smell it anymore.
Maybe I took too much.
Maybe I inhaled too deep too long.
But, funny, how I don't remember that.
And I can't get back the feeling that I'm supposed to know.

Agonizing. Its all agonizing.
To feel.
To be.
To vibrate.
To accept vibrations.
To be facile for the process. Like water.
But to turn it off is the need.
To Separate.
To rest.
Then back again like a sickness.

Why does the past ache so much?
Good and Bad.
Why does it ache? Always.
It's good but its gone.
It's bad so it haunts.

All too often I wonder Why.
And I am never satisfied with the answer.

Sage Advice

Don't let leak the sphincter on the beehive of your anger.
Let it rip.
And let it go.

Play the Fool.

History will reveal where the Queen sought her wisdom.

Artist, as in "tortured"

By the time I arrived at maturity, I had already accomplished all of the things that were proper and necessary in life. I had learned to be cordial, amenable, and to turn on a smile when it was needed. I had learned to be reasonable, productive, and how to carry on a very civilized exchange of ideas. I had learned not just how to get it right, but how to strive for perfection.

However, my road to maturation was not so smooth. In the beginning, I was a very silent child. Then, I was stubborn, dramatic, and often tantrum ridden. I would bite off more than I could chew and then fall to pieces in the midst of it. I was known for being ill. But I suppose you could say that despite all of this fire and ice bubbling up in me, I was still very fragile, like a rare flower you would want to protect from the breezes and keep at a very steady temperature.

Only I got out. And matriculated into a group of Artists. And it was all over.

First, I was encouraged to curse—to cry, scream, and moan. I was coaxed to break out of the mold, differentiate myself, let it all go, and get it wrong. They wanted me to B r e a t h e. And all of this in the name of Honesty.
Then, in order to begin reacting authentically, we began to strip away the thousand natural (or unnatural) shields that had accumulated to hide the awful nakedness of vulnerability. And it was awful being naked; but after awhile it did seem much better than the gnawing scratchiness of hiding—much more true, and much more uniquely, personally expressive.

It was amazing to actually begin to be able to read the signs that cry out when something’s wrong or off or untrue or inauthentic; And then to realize that this discomfort doesn’t have to be ignored. Instead, it can be a compass that allows us to break free of the Lies—that are the all too easy and often ways we back down from choosing courage over fear.

And this stifling of instinct and intuition is what leads us to all of the tension and stress and anxiety. And if this sensation is left to fester and linger, it makes a nest inside our muscles and tightens like a vice around our lungs, until our souls can't help but begin a screaming tantrum toward the silencing of our voices and the surrender of our lives.

Oh, to have preserved the innocent artistic spirit from the corruption of societal norms--what hell awaits us there that we have so much to fear from it?

Angel Kisses

Angel kisses on your lashes
Help to bring the fever down
Taste your tears
Take them in
Swallow them down


Wanna curl up in your cozy
bring you warmth and eminate
bolts of sunshine
strands of music
till I’ve built my dwelling place


Take me in
Feel my smooth
Let it soothe you
Let me soothe you
down

Angel kisses on your lashes

Dreaming Life Away

Enter my world
I made it myself
its better than most
you'll find so yourself

you'll beg me to stay
but I can't make you see
a flutter of vision
clear only to me

but I'll flash it in front of you
you'll glitter and moan
then before you can hold it
you'll need me once more

for its gone--just a whisper
fleeting dust in the air
only I can uncover
a magic so fair

for the Truth is a substance
only some can afford
who've the strength to take lightning
and fracture the blow

Ever That Way She'll Be

Ever that way
she'll be
for you

Just how you want her to

always beside you
reach just behind you

there she is
lying still
leave her
leave her lying still
still with you

ever and always
with you
she will be
just what you want her to

always smiling
never crying
softly lying
gently dying

ever and always
that's what she'll be
for you
what you want her to

ever and always
right there beside you
reach just behind you

that's where she'll be
for you
lying next to you

right where you left her
safe and collected
silent and watchful
hapless but harmless

ever that way she'll be
waiting on you to see

Thought of the Other Day

When you can't do what you thought you were supposed to do
You have to sit back and think of what you really want to do
By way of what you can't live without.

Thought of the Day

Life is all about navigating where you fit.
Till somebody validates where you are.