Monthly Archives: February 2012

brooklyn bridge. march 2011.

The green light at the end of the dock in The Great Gatsby represents hope and renewal. It’s everything even if we don’t realize it. It’s more than Daisy Buchanan who never loved him enough anyway. It’s all encompassing and a fact within everyone; it’s what gets most people out of bed in the morning; it’s the promise of possibility.

“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And then one fine morning— ” – F. Scott Fitzgerald


williamsburg. 2011.

I once knew a Swedish boy. The only thing I’m left with from knowing him is this pain in my chest and a bunch of Swedish musicians I probably wouldn’t have found on my own. For that I’m grateful… and probably for the pain in my chest, too.

He used to play this song quite a bit, as well as “Queen of Sorrow,” also by Kristofer. But we can cover that one in a later post.

“All Lovers Hell” by Kristofer Åström:

She told the news to me, a planted part of me
Not to fully grow to show a way of what could be
I asked her to be true, she said I love you too
Her eyes were sad and I recall somebody asked do you?

rue du temple. paris. january 2010.

The first time I went to Paris I lived in a flat on Rue des Gravilliers in le Marais. It stretches across the 3rd and 4th arrondissements on the Rive Droite of the Seine. The flat was modest, lacked a television and was pretty much just a mattress on the floor… it was perfect. Every morning I awoke to the bells of Notre Dame and fell asleep to the piano playing of the composer who lived next door.

When I return to Paris next week, I will be living in the 16th arrondissement. It’s less central, but is one of the few arrondissements I have yet to explore.

“Quelqu’un M’a Dit” by Carla Bruni:

J’entends encore la voix, mais je ne vois plus les traits
“Il vous aime, c’est secret, lui dites pas que je vous l’ai dit”
Tu vois, quelqu’un m’a dit…

chinatown. spring 2011.

I’m conflicted about my love for New York City’s Chinatown. On a warm day, Canal Street smells like something that crawled out of your lower intestine and died right there on the sidewalk. It’s wall-to-wall people; some who will never leave that neighborhood and tourists looking for cheap faux designer bags. You get jostled from one block to the next and when you finally break free from the crowds you want to wash all that human contact away.

But other times, when it’s dark and you’re looking for trouble or something on the shady side, it’s a perfect fit. I’ve always preferred my evenings to be on the shady side.

“We’re not happy ‘til we’re running away…” – from Wild Nothing’s “Chinatown”

chelsea piers. june 2011.

I was far too young to appreciate Bad Brains in the height of their glory. When “Sailin’ On” came out on their debut album I was literally knee-high to grasshopper… if that. It was 1982.

But as a tomboy who was far more concerned with being one of the boys who mastered the art of skateboarding and the idea of skate/ska punk (or whatever) before it was cool, I knew who Sublime was before Bradley Nowell died, before The Specials became passé and before Bad Brains disappeared. Although looking back these bands should actually not be associated with my skateboard/tomboy ways as they’re so far in their own genres. But for some reason my mind has compiled them into one category and one that is as far from Debbie Gibson and Tiffany as possible.

I had not heard Bad Brains in years when the tribute album came out when I was in college. I was once again sucked into them and what they meant to my youth. Normally I dismiss any and all covers… and when the cover is being done by Moby, I dismiss it even more. I do not care for Moby. At. All.

However, I always loved the lyrics of “Sailin’ On.” Even as a 10-year-old I knew those words, although foreign to my life experience at the time, were full of something that would mean a lot when I grew up… and they did.

My apologies to Bad Brains for this… but my god, Moby’s cover breaks my heart every time. And I do love a proper heartbreak.

houston street. february 2012.

This is what a sunset over Houston Street looks like in 2012. These were what cabs looked like, stop lights and the clouds. I was on my way to the J train when I took this. I was listening to “I Don’t Want Love” by The Antlers. It was warmer than it should be for a February day, but my feet were still cold.

I had forgotten what spring feels like.

My complexion needs some color. Today it was 64 degrees in Barcelona. A month from today I’ll just be arriving in Barcelona. Like I said, my complexion needs some color.

“I Don’t Want Love”

You wanna climb up the stairs,
I wanna push you back down.
But I let you inside,
So you can push me around.

If I leave before you,
And I walk out alone,
Keep your hands to yourself
When you follow me home.

I don’t want love.
I don’t want love.

We wake up with pounding heads,
Bruised down below.
I should have built better walls,
Or slept in my clothes.

So if I see you again,
Desperate and stoned,
Keep your prison locked up,
And I will leave my gun at home.

I don’t want love.
I don’t want love.