Flailing Arms

First, I just read this blog: http://www.yourmusicisawful.com/2013/04/hey-kids-grow-a-pair-how-music-blogs-neutered-indie-rock/

Then I kind of agreed with him. I still like most of those bands he mentions, with the notably exception of Beach House. I don't get Beach House. But the point is, I decided to play something loud and fast and flail my arms around like I play guitar for a bit. I came up with this band: Heatmiser. Probably not a choice that the blogger would have liked, since Elliott Smith was the major product of this band, but they do rock hard on a lot of songs.

After a good pursing lips, flailing arms, and head bobbing session in front of the mirror I began to laugh at myself. I can't think of how I'd get away with so much fun if I had to live with other people or had a girlfriend. I'm feeling thankful for my tiny hobbit-hole house.

Soul Pancake Did It Again

They showed me a video that made me realize what they mean by "encouraging you to open your heart without feeling like an idiot".

Who hasn't done something like this? Well, probably a lot of people, since it's scary and awkward to put yourself out there like that. But I can honestly say that I've done things like this on a smaller scale, and felt that sense of stupidity he must have felt at turning away from the door. It's funny that I saw this video today because I was thinking earlier about how we over-romanticize romantic relationships in our life as is they were the only fulfilling relationships we can have. I'm going to try to be more appreciative of the genuine friendships I've made.

-GusTruck

Pursuit

"There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy, and the tired"

And suddenly you find yourself hungover in a hospital cafeteria, drinking their free coffee and eating their cheap corned beef and hash with scrambled eggs. There is 65 cents on the table because they only take cash, and you need to use the ATM to pay. Green and rosey grey tiles and the sickly smell of cleanliness. Charging your phone for free on an outlet by the wall.

It's good to be pursued, but I would add another to the list, Nick. There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy, the tired and the timid.

Remember

Here's the first entry in my Deathly Hallows Journal. It's dated June 22nd, 2012.

Try to remember this moment, though you know you won't be able to. The lapping of the flag on the flag pole, the lapping of the waves on the shore. The newly finished wooden staircase leading out to a harbor of gently rocking boats beneath the sunset. We'll leave it at that. because its enough for one person to remember as is.
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Tired and Worried

I'm tired. It's an ache in my lower back that spreads to my soul. I feel like the most basic things take me forever today. I'm too tired to sleep. too tired to write. I feel myself compressed heavily into the futon I sit at, and here I'll remain until it's dark enough outside to lie (lay? I still don't get it) on.

I think about the future and am filled with the dread of the present. How can things change if I don't change them now. I have several thoughts going through my head at the moment. Can I ski faster, is it worth it to go for it? How am I going to make enough money to pay off my tens-of-thousands of dollars of student loan/ car payment debt? Do I want to become a better writer or a better musician? Do I even have time for either if I'm going to keep skiing? What about graduate school, have you lost hope for that?

Maybe I'm just hungry. Where's the food? Oh wait, I can't afford it.

(if she reads this) I'm okay, mom. Don't worry. I'm sorry if I make you worry. I'm happy. Really, I am. I feel bad that I make you worried sometimes. I just want to be independent and stop being your burden. We're even, okay?

-Stavó

Amanda

I thought this video was beautiful, and also sad. And both of those things are things I can't say on facebook. I played Elliott Smith's Either/Or on the way home from Truckee today in front of a friend, and found myself explaining the reason I like Bright Eyes and Elliott Smith and "sad-sack" music. It's a part of me that I don't often show to people. He responded that he thought of me as a pretty happy person, and in general, I am. But it got me thinking about the filters we place on ourselves for others. Is it lying? Is it melodrama to share?

I'm going to try to expand my empathy, take more notice, write more openly.

Be Brave. Live.
-Gus

P.S. I think Amanda Palmer is a true artist. She understands the small things like gesture and expression.

The Noose

This past week has been a week of planning and scrambling. Tahoe Donner doesn't have any work for me ever since the snow to ski on melted out, and now I'm on the job hunt again. There's light on the horizon though, because I've been set up to do some property management work as an independent contractor through the graces of a friend. I've never been an independent contractor before, which is a scary and stressful thing to research. There are a lot of warnings online about making sure you know what you're getting into, and tricky tax filing requirements to take care of. So there's that. Plus, I'm always nervous when I don't have money coming in at a time when money needs to be spent on bills, rent, gas, and food.

In light of all that, I have resorted to doing what I usually do when things get stressful: sleeping a lot, training a little, and distracting myself with books, music, and crafts. The picture above is the most recent incarnation of the crafting distraction. I like knots and rope now. I didn't used to. They used to be a bit of a stressful thing themselves. Growing up in a boating family, ropes and knots were important. My dad used to try to teach me how to tie up the boat at random intervals throughout my childhood, and I never quite got it. The ropes never made sense with all that twisting and tying, and along with the overarching impatience of my father's frustration, ropes were a constant source of dread. I went with the "if you don't know a knot, tie a lot" approach; tying convoluted overhand knots that may or may not  have actually come untied again. Come to think of it, it probably runs deeper than just boats. I had a hard time learning to tie my shoes as a kid too. And with each re-teaching, my parents patience ran a little thinner- until learning those loops felt a lot like tying my own noose.

About two years ago, living on Fire Island as a camp counselor, I decided to take up knot tying again. I got myself a book and practiced in the evenings while sitting on the porch of the yacht club watching the sun set over the Great South Bay. That's where I started to really get it. There was no pressure and no hurry. Life just flowed from sunrise to sunset, everything else was just the slow island-time BS in-between.