He even says “few and far between…”!
http://youtube.com/watch?v=WLgTuvWCAsM
I am soooo glad we went to Morocco, Mike. I thought about it today on the bus and smiled combustibly.
April 23, 2008
Hi!
I’m done!
I’m coming home tonight!
But I’m on the D/L til I leave for Cali… and then I’m back May 7.
Where should I work??
Let’s Party (edit) April 22, 2008
Hello,
First. I am going to be home April 24th. I am pretty busy until the 30th though.
Second. I am going to be working in Banff May 10th-end of summer. There is a hostel in Banff. Come visit me.
Third. I want to have a party or get-together. What day are you free? Let’s tentatively say May 1st, 2nd, 3rd?
Analyze me… please (since I can’t seem to do it myself) April 12, 2008
I went to church today. Well, actually it was at night, so I went to church tonight. During the beginning of the semester, EVERYONE tried to get me to go to church with them. They would tell me that a lot of people go just to make friends even if they’re not that passionate about the religion but to me, that just seemed wrong. What good would it be to go to sit through a sermon that I don’t believe in just to socialize with people afterwards? Constantly, I refused and they all eventually gave up. Lately though, especially after visiting my relatives in Toronto, I started to take on a different perspective. I felt like experimenting. Sometime before spring break, I discussed this with a friend from my writing seminar and he told me to call him up whenever I felt ready to try it out. So today, I did. And yeah… I had a good time to my own surprise.
Because of my grandmother (my mom’s mom), I had always been more familiar with Buddhist traditions. Through her, I learned to feel at ease inside a temple and love the bitter yet sweet fragrance of incense sticks. On the other hand, my dad’s side of the family, especially Jessica’s parents, are hardcore Christians and I’ve always had a huge respect for their level of devotion. I did even go to a church once when I was little but it was a really oppressive – near manic – one and the experience scared me enough to never attempt it again. My dad used to go to church in university (quote: “mainly to find girls”) but he too didn’t like the atmosphere of it and soon stopped going/believing. Nevertheless, my parents have always left the option open for me when it came to choosing a religion. And all along, I chose not to choose.
I mean, I never thought thought of myself as being religionless. With two options within my hands, I felt like I had access to and capacity for both religions yet I could never decide which one to really practice. I always felt that believing in faith – in general – should be good enough. I hated how people would tell me with a shade of confusion within their voices, “But… Audrey… you can’t do both. You have to choose one.” I told my aunt this when I visited her this March and she told me straight up that I wouldn’t have to sacrifice my Buddhist traditions to go to a church and that I should just try it out - even if it becomes a one time thing.
I feared lots before going but it turned out that I had nothing to be afraid of at all. Nobody was like, “After all those months of refusing… wtf are you doing here now?” Rather, it felt more like this huge reunion with all of the people I used to hang out with early in the school year that I had drifted apart from during these past few months. Plus, the church itself seemed really… chill? The priest was young and the sermon was just like this little casual lecture/discussion.
There is this one point of wonder though… It’s that during odd parts of the sermon, even ones that weren’t supposed to be touching really, I started thinking of Jess and tears started welling up. I stil can’t decide whether this was a fake act on my part or something real. The friend who brought me along was taken aback and asked if and why I was crying. I told him that I wasn’t too sure. I mean, I really don’t think I’m convinced by the religion at all. I didn’t even pray with the other people in the end. I just… didn’t want to… (or maybe couldn’t)? Plus I was scared that I’d randomly break out into sobs the moment I closed my eyes. I wasn’t ready for that so I just kept my eyes open and kept blinking the red out of my eyes and nose instead.
That said, I think I might go again next week. And maybe I’ll start making some more sense to myself. Maybe some of you guys can see some clarity in this mess of a post…
Few and Far Between April 10, 2008
Word to my hip-hopsters, and a fresh and virile hello, friends.
Of late, I have been perusing more deeply the meanings and stories behind popular rock music song lyrics. I’ve just recently become interested in this because, well, I’ve only recently discovered that there ARE infact meanings behind some of today’s popular songs.
One I’ve been looking at quite extensively is RHCP’s Californication. I’ve always thought that this is one of the great songs of my time, though I don’t care a whole lot for the Chili Peppers. But, as it happens, a couple weeks ago, I came across an interesting comment following an article about the song.
The song’s meaning is pretty clear, in my mind; the plasticising, if you will, of everything, represented by the paragon of such a practice, California. (Incidentally, the word ‘fornication’ appearing in the title is coincidental.)
Now, of course, it’s not that simple, but it fits a sort of overall theme. Anyhow, this comment was about a specific line in the song, that goes “…Cobain can you hear the spheres singing songs off station to station?”
The comment explained it thusly,
I believe that the famous line “Cobain can your the spheres singing songs from station to station” refers to Kurt Cobain and the “spheres,” which are exactly the “celestial spheres” of Aristotele. These are, in Aristotele astronomic theory, the “cogs” of wich the universe is made; concentric spheres, each moved up (and while they are moving, they SING CELESTIAL MUSIC) by the First Motor, i.e. GOD. In fact, this theory was later absorbed by the Catholic religion. So the “spheres” are the Heavens, the Skies in wich God lives, and where Cobain’s soul now lives. “Station to station” is obviously Bowie’s album, which was the one prefered by Cobain. So, the meaning of the sentence is, “Cobain [who was a friend to Kiedis], can you hear [now that you are in the Heaven] the [heavenly] spheres [which always sing while they're moving according to the Aristotelic/Christian theory] singing songs from Station to Station [i.e.: singing songs taken from Bowie's album "Station to Station", the album which you used to love when you were alive on the earth]?” Now, it remains only the connection between this sentence to the whole meaning of the song. I think that it’s quite obvious the “blasphemic” image conained in this sentence: even the celestial spheres (in the Heaven) sing the songs from the Bowie’s album Station to Station, like all the radios on the earth does. Thus, also the Heavens have been “californicated.”
This blew my mind.
Even though I know I won’t hear from most of you for another couple of weeks I was hoping that you might share some songs whose deepness of meaning has blown your respective brains out the back of your respective occipital buns.
Can’t wait to hear from you.
Call for artists! …call for lovelies… April 4, 2008
Hey guys!
So! I want a large back tattoo. I want this tattoo to be an oak tree. I will not be able to afford such a tattoo for quite some time, but this is just as well, as I want to make absolutely sure that this is what I want.
What I want is to get some of my closest friends to design what they envision this tattoo looking like and then I will draw from them my favorite aspects and combine them into my eventual tattoo, thus making the tattoo much more meaningful than pulling an oak tree off of google and getting it done. I would be honoured if any of you would like to participate in this project. There is no deadline or anything, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and foresee it being realized in a few years if I can scrounge the funds for it.
Just a bit of background about the tattoo, like why I want an oak tree, and how I see it being laid out…The oak tree for me has been a symbol throughout my life. There was one planted in the front yard of my house when my parents moved into it. It grew up with me. Finally, just as I moved out, it was strong enough to climb. The tree symbolizes my childhood and my originating place within the world. While it is about past, it is also about change and growth and … well, life… at the risk of sounding corny.
I don’t want colour on this tattoo. I am thinking more of a black outline. I want it to start with the roots on my hips, and then I want it to all the way up my back, its branches wrapping, like fingers, around my shoulders. I want the branches to be visible. Foliage is optional.
But yeah, if you feel like participating, then that would be greatly appreciated, and if not, that’s cool too. Please stylize and make it your own, though I’m sure you all will. I am open to suggestion as well, so if you don’t like some bit of my original idea, change it! Do whatever!
Think on it and get back to me.
Much love to you all, and best of luck in finals to those with finals. I am super-grinfilled-excited about seeing you all when I come home. (24th of April!! 
soo soooon!)
xoxo
A Response to “To Those I Know Not Well” April 2, 2008
To the boy I have dubbed “Buddha”: I call you this not because of heftiness (quite contrarily you have the body of a certain late Ming; that of skin-colored concrete), but rather because of the dangerous serenity you exude morning after morning, with thin eyelids poised serenely over eyes that I see only when someone comes and sits next to you, disturbing your peace (this morning a businessman reading a suspicious-looking manual titled “Dinosaur Training”). I fear your complacency due to the fact that it is combined with a penchant for clothing yourslef in toques, shirts and bags that boast of your proficiency at “Tom Clancy’s Splinter Cell.” I am breathlessly awaiting the moment at which those famous eyelids will fly open, a large gun will materialize in your hands and you will effortlessly flaunt your accumulated gaming “skilllz.” Until then I sit across from you each morning and watch for a flicker, a sign of what is to come.
To the obese Canada Postman who sits three rows from the front and has been reading womanly, feel-good titles like “The 7 People You Meet in Heaven” since the beginning of the year: Your odiferous bulk, taking up exactly 1.5 blue vinyl seats, has served you well. No one ever sits beside you and if they try, your overhang of a side-stomach starts growing at five times the speed of normal fungi and forces them out of the narrow remaining space. Sitting behind the tendrils of greasy grey hair that line your bald head with linear exactness, I can smell the desperation combined with glee that you exude.
To the middle-aged mother sporting the lurid 3/4 length purple trenchcoat: I can always picture quite clearly the four screaming toddlers you must have left at home; the dark bags under your eyes reflect their high-pitched pleas. I know this creation is your favorite piece of clothing (I’ve never seen you without it), but I also know that it hearkens from the 80s, as my mother owns its clone, hanging forlornly in our hall closet for years now. The neon toggles splattered across the front don’t convince me otherwise.
To the citizens of the morning 496 (8:16 or 8:31, depending on my efficiency), more analysis of your creature features is coming, as there remains much to extrapolate upon.
Library Disinterest? Could it be? April 1, 2008
Guys, I write to you again from the belly of the library. I am surrounded my motivated students listening to mp3 players, all of whom look so intent on getting done what needs to be gotten done. I, on the other hand, am writing home, so to speak. I promise a disjointed note. Here goes.
Anthropology “midterm” (final) tomorrow. I am somewhat doomed. Much reading to be done. I cleaned my room today in a procrastination effort. Yes. Me. Cleaning. You read me correctly. My roommate came home and stood, stunned, in the doorway for a few minutes. Dishes had been done, clothes put away, the coffin (coffee table) had been cleared off, our socks had been separated into groups based on ownership: mine, hers, homeless. I even found some long lost flip flops hiding in among the empty luggage under her desk. Now I am reading about the capitalist world economy as started in the 1600’s based on monocrop production of things like sugar cane and cotton. This is such an interesting course. This is the sort of thing I would love to read if I didn’t have to. Why is that? Why is it that we enjoy education in subjects that are not “mandatory” by some authority. Yes, we chose to be in school, take these courses, etc., but really, if this is not suggestion that the desire for freedom is innate I don’t know what is. Take THAT Plato, with you’re rigid societal organization!
It was my roommate’s birthday yesterday. We have decided that we are only to give each other gifts if the gifts will help the receiver get laid. Crude, yes. Hilarious, yes. I had forgotten about this rule, and bought my roommate cheese… I had to come up with a somewhat complex story about why this would help her.
The library is humming again.
It was hair month in my residence in March. Today is April first and the sinks in the guys’ washrooms are disgusting. The girl’s showers got filled with snow today as a grand old foolish joke. Delightful.
I should really get back to work. Home on the 24th. I miss you all. March babies: your cards are in the mail.
LOVE! (Loaf? Suzie? Is this okay?) In any case, much affection to you all. xoxox
