I got to see Local Natives again with my best friend! We were front row center, literally giggling like children on Christmas day.
Stewart from Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros was there and we got to meet him! He's such a gem.
Also, Atlas Sound at the Natural History Museum was such a therapeutic experience. My mind was blown, even though there was a drunk jerk being rude to Bradford. Tune-yards obviously was beautifully insane. The perfect combination. Matt from Local Natives was there and no one recognized him except us! We got to have a lovely conversation with him and he was genuinely appreciative of us for loving his music.
I never feel like I have enough time to listen to as much music as I want to. I wish time would just pause whenever I wanted so I could lay on the floor and just absorb it. But life is beautiful and I'm thankful.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Sunday, January 3, 2010
this girl.
She grew up loving Christmas. Every warm fuzzy detail. The Beach Boys Christmas album became synonymous with its cheery feeling. The summery contradiction of a Christmas album. She ate it up. Beautiful, happy Christmas. She counted down every year, when she was a child.
She felt very connected with the story of Peter Pan. She would have dreams that Peter came for her. To go to Neverland. It was routine. Nothing out of the ordinary, not a spectacular occurence. When she woke up, books were scattered off of her windowseat where she had tried to climb out.
This girl, she had a best friend whose car turned into a rave. There were lights in the speakers. They synchronized with the drum beats. They'd play with the speakers when he came home from college for winter break. She laughed out loud every time it began. When they would drive past hotels, she would scan the windows with the open curtains to look at the people within. Hurriedly try to make out the details of their faces. She just wanted to know who they were and what they were thinking when they saw the mass of cars speeding by on the freeway. Her and this best friend, they would smoke in their favorite childhood places just to feel ironic. Just to look at themselves and snicker and think about how far they'd come. How much had changed in a few short years.
This girl worked in a library. She tried to read as much as she could of the books that caught her eye. Snuck as many pages as she could in between checking out books to other students. She wanted to soak it in. She loved the collection of information that surrounded her. She wanted to visit all of the places the guidebooks talked about. Live in all of them, at least for a year. She couldn't live with the idea of being tied down to one place for too long.
This girl had a best friend that understood her. She was the same kind of insane. Sometimes they worried that they were going insane together, at the same rate. They quoted Jack Kerouac a ridiculous amount. Like Roman Candles. She thanked God for this best friend.
Christmas lost its warmth for her. She realized it would probably never come back. Her parents played the Beach Boys Christmas Album for her, as she was sitting in the corner drinking coffee and scanning through her negatives for her photography project. She couldn't feel anything. She might as well be hearing white noise, this girl.
She mourned the loss of her childhood.
This girl, this Chelsea.
She felt very connected with the story of Peter Pan. She would have dreams that Peter came for her. To go to Neverland. It was routine. Nothing out of the ordinary, not a spectacular occurence. When she woke up, books were scattered off of her windowseat where she had tried to climb out.
This girl, she had a best friend whose car turned into a rave. There were lights in the speakers. They synchronized with the drum beats. They'd play with the speakers when he came home from college for winter break. She laughed out loud every time it began. When they would drive past hotels, she would scan the windows with the open curtains to look at the people within. Hurriedly try to make out the details of their faces. She just wanted to know who they were and what they were thinking when they saw the mass of cars speeding by on the freeway. Her and this best friend, they would smoke in their favorite childhood places just to feel ironic. Just to look at themselves and snicker and think about how far they'd come. How much had changed in a few short years.
This girl worked in a library. She tried to read as much as she could of the books that caught her eye. Snuck as many pages as she could in between checking out books to other students. She wanted to soak it in. She loved the collection of information that surrounded her. She wanted to visit all of the places the guidebooks talked about. Live in all of them, at least for a year. She couldn't live with the idea of being tied down to one place for too long.
This girl had a best friend that understood her. She was the same kind of insane. Sometimes they worried that they were going insane together, at the same rate. They quoted Jack Kerouac a ridiculous amount. Like Roman Candles. She thanked God for this best friend.
Christmas lost its warmth for her. She realized it would probably never come back. Her parents played the Beach Boys Christmas Album for her, as she was sitting in the corner drinking coffee and scanning through her negatives for her photography project. She couldn't feel anything. She might as well be hearing white noise, this girl.
She mourned the loss of her childhood.
This girl, this Chelsea.
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