i can't explain it.

"I can't explain it though I have to try."

It's a simple line from a lovely little Jenny Owen Youngs song, and somehow I find it sums up my general state of mind quite simply. I'm working right now on a story about a boy who was born with a peculiar sort of body. Every muscle and tendon is made up of a string or a songline, every organ is fleshed out by musical tones. He tunes out the world unwittingly because his entire brain becomes an internal orchestra when he least expects it.

Probably it will end up being a stupid story, but there are bits of it I'm quite fond of already. In the beginning, the boy is standing next to his mother looking out the Rockefeller Center windows at his mother, who starts to ask him a question about what he wants for lunch. He doesn't reply because all he can hear is the crashing symphony that accompanies the skaters. It is silenced when he realizes the noise was all in his head.

There's something here in the notion of private language that I can't help but fall for every time; even though my favorite philosopher makes the argument that at the end of the day there is no such thing as a private language, it's still wildly compelling to think about. For all of our idiosyncratic feelings and emotions, at the end of the day the only things that matter are the ones that are communicable.

I think about this kind of stuff a lot, and as we launch this summer, it's foremost on my mind because right now it feels time for new projects and new distractions, and we here who crave cake and love life are feeling it most. Yesterday, we ate some of the greatest carrot cake I've ever tasted at a goodbye party for a friend, and the vibrancy of its flavor clashed with the dull irritation of farewells and we kind of wondered exactly what it all meant in terms of where we'd net out.

There's a great deal to be said for the unknown, but it's remarkably funny to think that we can't say it until we've experienced it and beaten it down into something communicable.

loving life, in hypercolor

i. I love springtime; I love chicory coffee; you probably don't know it, but in the summertime when I start to feel unhappy or lonely, I love going to Central Park and walking around the Reservoir as many times as it takes before things feel better and a Jamba Juice is ultimately required. I said yesterday that 80% of what goes on in my life happens in my head; this is why I'm so tired all of the time.

ii. And as that summer approaches and I start to think about how my heart bursts every time I get near a beach, I'm excited, too, to think that one of my nearest and dearest may be coming back to the fold. There are really exhilarating moments in my life, most of which take place in bars, where every word becomes a new discovery and a whole new set of creative ideas overcome you. It used to be easy to come by, back in the days when I spent half of my time in philosophy classes and the other half with my head in the clouds; these days, it takes a good friend to jog it out of me. Christiana could not be planning her arrival at a better time.

iii. And in other news, I've finally come around to the wild, wonderful ways of My Morning Jacket. Who knew?

the simple days

"A ballerina dance on their toes. They dance gracefully. I want to be one."

Humans are born with the desire to roam the earth. We crawl, then walk, then run. All in an effort to move further away from where we came from: from home. I know firsthand the thrill of what changing ones surroundings can do for ones heart. And now I also know that staying home and letting others go can be it’s own fantastic journey. Because when you let go of something, you make room for something else entirely, something you never expected. Something that makes home seem like it’s own unexpected adventure. A trip where new treasures are found around every old corner. Where the world, in all it’s complexities, come right to your doorstep. Because in the end, the power is not just with those who go away, but also in what they leave behind.

a glitch or two

You spend the first five years trying to get with the plan, and the next five years trying to be with your friends again. —James Murphy, LCD Soundsystem


i know i've come to a point where i need to completely cut people out of my life in order to really move on. things aren't the way that i remembered them. and apparently i'm the enemy in a battle i didn't even really know existed until too late.

has ignorance played a large role? of course. sometimes being too busy blinds people to many things. and then when life slows down, you're left with whatever is to be salvaged from the damage that was never meant to be caused.

i've realized that nothing in this city will ever be like it used to. and it's beaten me up every minute i don't occupy myself with distractions. perhaps that's why i try and fill my life up with as much busy work as i can get.

it's time to let go, no matter how much i want to hold on to that idealistic view of what was, i can't. because i need to remember that what i was holding on to was such a small piece of time; just a minor glitch in the grand scheme of things.

and i just keep telling myself that: a glitch.... just a minor glitch...

and it hurts a little bit less.










a few weekends ago i got away from this city. i spent two days in nyc. as soon as i got back on the subways, i missed it more intensely than i ever thought possible. everything i once despised about it a year ago, i loved at that moment. i wanted it back. i realized that the only reason i gave it up was to go travel the united states of america in a van full of musicians. and i never looked back. and i was never back since. but now that i've re-visited, i want it again. of all the places to be malcontent, nyc might be the best. distractions are easy to come by, and there are plenty of people to fill those empty voids, if only temporarily. in two days, i got two apartment offers and 1 viable job opportunity. why shouldn't i go back?
and then i remembered my personality. and that as soon as i moved back, i would want to move away again. so i've saved myself the hassle. and i'm continuing to get through each day here. not remembering how it was, but thinking of how it can be. of how i can make it the city i've always wanted to be a part of.

just a minor glitch...

and then before i know it, i've forgotten everything about it...

five notes, brought to you by the new york half

1. Werkestatte is open. The space is lovely, the current exhibition by Robert Rahway lovelier, and the gallery's co-owner is the fairest of them all. If I knew anything about art (or writing), I'd write about it all, but I don't.

2. When I tell people about my new job, the recognition of the label name is not instant. This is normal, but the look of disbelief on their faces after I namecheck a few of the label's top artists is not. And for a certain sort, it's not a "congratulations, that's a great job!" look, but a "why on earth would you sell your soul to the devil?" kind of look.

To a certain extent, I can understand that kind of look; at the same time, it overlooks a hell of a lot of details (as I suppose most things do.) That I don't care to try to find myself a place working for bands I really enjoy is the result of many lessons learned over the past six years. I've worked for amazing bands who never saw a dime from their releases, for amazing bands who turned out to be assholes, and for amazing bands that should have been huge but for the fact that their fans just can't be bothered to buy music anymore. It's been in the last couple of years that I've learned that some of the best things I've worked on and learned the most from are releases that I can't personally relate to whatsoever; for me, it's all about giving myself a chance to learn more and to have more opportunities for effective marketing strategies. It's about opening doors by way of having established names and a successful catalog. And it's far too early in the game to say this with certainty, but it's also about having a staff that's actually well-put together and communicative enough to really get things done.


At the same time, I feel like you can say whatever you want about the quality of the music generally found on modern rock radio, but there's one thing you can say for their fanbases that you can't say for a lot of amazing bands on the fringe. These fans buy records. The sales numbers prove it; the fact that my mom actually owns a CD by one of these bands is a great place to start. It's amazing to be able to think of new and creative ways to bring a release to people's attention and know that there's actually a market there for it. For whatever reason, these bands have a certain level of loyalty attributed to them.

(For a long time, I thought people listened to modern alternative rock because it's what was presented to them, as if they were being force-fed. I know a lot of people who still have this opinion, and I think it's both alarming and a bunch of bunk. You can lead sixty million people to an album, but you can't make them buy it unless they really want it.)

At the end of the day, I've always carried a certain level of naivete about me when it comes to my work environment, but I'm quite convinced that that's what's kept me from being one of those people who hates the very idea of having a job. This leads me into a completely different segue, but first I would like to note that as lovely as the "new Radiohead model" is, I think it's complete bullshit that early stats show only about half the people ordering the record are paying for it. What was that I was saying about fan loyalty? That seriously makes me ill to think about.

3. On the subject of "having day jobs", I've long had a running argument with a friend of mine who cannot understand why in god's name I would want to have one. (My argument for it is really very simple - working for someone else gives me the stability that someone with a chronic illness and a shit ton of student loan bills needs. I could add to that a number of things, including my fondness for routine, my general appreciation for having a higher-up from which I can learn new things, and the fact that I'm not smart or creative enough to have my own thing going.)

That said, it seems funny to me that we're currently at a breaking point in our business relationship where I've realized that what's making me most unhappy is the fact that I'm working for someone else. There's only so much creative input I can have when I'm battling other voices; there's only so much I physically have time to do; there's only so much I can take, period. And at the end of the day, a lot of my hard work translates into a finished product that I'm totally blase about, while I struggle to make time for any ideas I have on the side.

(It is my general belief that I pile things on to my plate in order to ensure that I never get to those ideas on the side, because I don't believe for a second I can carry them out. This has been today's completely disheartening theme, and I wouldn't be surprised if it has some link to the fact that I have been so nauseous all day I could barely make it down the street for a Gatorade.)

But I am not a quitter and I don't give up all too easily; I'm questioning decisions even as I'm thinking they were a long time coming. At the same time, I feel like I'm on the verge of literally ending a marriage. I have lived alongside this other person for years, and we have been remarkably close; it is because we have always clicked that we ever did business together in the first place. It is because we care so much about each other that we've been able to work things out for so long, and it's because I care so much that I've spent my week silently torn up over the feeling that what I'm doing is not quite right, but that I can't continue on like that.

(And possibly, worse: the feeling that there was absolutely no one around to talk to about it.)

I will say this: any marriage is hard, whether it's a paper one or a marriage of the minds. It does, however, not seem worth throwing away when someone sends you a text message and adds at the end "I'm in Canada and this is costing me a lot of money, so you know I love you."

4. Let's not talk about my oven and how the new one I have been promised is nowhere in site. Trust me on this one, because I cannot think of a single thing that makes me angrier or more unhappy. (And I can think of a lot of things right now that make me angry and unhappy.)

5. This is all to say that all I ate today was a banana, so I'm surprised I'm not hallucinating pink elephants at the moment. How people can fast is completely beyond me, because girl cannot live on vegetable broth and Gatorade alone. Being sick - particularly without a butler of some kind - can go to hell.