Piacevole
What a week it's been. Nearly 7 days since my last post...
Rather than recap the tumultuous and restless week I thought I'd share a little more of what's going on in this ol' noggin of mine. I don't think I've done that and it's about high time I do just that. I can/will recap later.
First, I'd like it to be known that I have a man-crush on Josh Rouse. I don't know what he looks like but his music (the following should be read out loud in a southern belle-like voice) 'right about sets my hair on fire.' I digress, back to the session.
Let me paint/write you a scene:
It's around 8pm on a comfortable early fall Thursday. I've pulled out a Mendocino chair, cushioned wrapped in some khaki material, out onto the patio in hopes that I can soak in the evening.
I think to myself that maybe I'll watch the sun go down and knock back some orange juice. No, no wine - just the pulpless Minute Maid orange juice, my drink of choice besides a tumbler of Disaronno on the rocks. All set up. The cell ringer is off, my laptop is nowhere in sight and I'm gripping a copy of Esquire. The soundtrack: Sebastian Tellier playing some oversampled tunes thru the stereo.
I settle into the comfy chair and suddenly I feel tired. Not the tired you feel in your eyes or a physical fatigue. The kind of tired you feel in your shoulders - a weariness. Sort of the feeling you get after you finish an exam and know that there's one more tomorrow but with a healthy dose of complexity stirred in for good measure.
Suddenly I realize I'm not really interested in much of anything and I forget where I am and what I'm doing... An hour or so later I found myself still sitting there having not moved an inch. Just staring at the hill off in the distance and completely unaware that it is a minute or two from being dark.
The magazine is still in my hand opened to some arbitrary page, which I'm paying no regard to. Evidently I've sipped on the juice just enough to show that it's been tasted. What have I been thinking about or even worse - what have I not been thinking about? Why is it that I find relaxing a harder activity than staying busy.
The Italians have this word "piacevole" which, in music, means peaceful and agreeable. Just saying the word makes me pine for an afternoon espresso in some remote piazza. I don’t know the noun form of piacevole but I need to find one (maybe a nice bottle of Chanti too) and I need to find it asap.
These days life has been absurdly hectic... landing somewhere in the neighborhood on Frenzied Street and Turbulent Ave. Not unlike (if I may) my 5-wood golf swing. There isn't a need to talk about what it is that's preoccupying my time and sanity but something makes me think that they're probably not the most important things in my life...
Maybe just maybe... it's time to reassess. I think my trip to Europe this coming Saturday is going to give me a chance to do just that.
Rather than recap the tumultuous and restless week I thought I'd share a little more of what's going on in this ol' noggin of mine. I don't think I've done that and it's about high time I do just that. I can/will recap later.
First, I'd like it to be known that I have a man-crush on Josh Rouse. I don't know what he looks like but his music (the following should be read out loud in a southern belle-like voice) 'right about sets my hair on fire.' I digress, back to the session.
Let me paint/write you a scene:
It's around 8pm on a comfortable early fall Thursday. I've pulled out a Mendocino chair, cushioned wrapped in some khaki material, out onto the patio in hopes that I can soak in the evening.
I think to myself that maybe I'll watch the sun go down and knock back some orange juice. No, no wine - just the pulpless Minute Maid orange juice, my drink of choice besides a tumbler of Disaronno on the rocks. All set up. The cell ringer is off, my laptop is nowhere in sight and I'm gripping a copy of Esquire. The soundtrack: Sebastian Tellier playing some oversampled tunes thru the stereo.
I settle into the comfy chair and suddenly I feel tired. Not the tired you feel in your eyes or a physical fatigue. The kind of tired you feel in your shoulders - a weariness. Sort of the feeling you get after you finish an exam and know that there's one more tomorrow but with a healthy dose of complexity stirred in for good measure.
Suddenly I realize I'm not really interested in much of anything and I forget where I am and what I'm doing... An hour or so later I found myself still sitting there having not moved an inch. Just staring at the hill off in the distance and completely unaware that it is a minute or two from being dark.
The magazine is still in my hand opened to some arbitrary page, which I'm paying no regard to. Evidently I've sipped on the juice just enough to show that it's been tasted. What have I been thinking about or even worse - what have I not been thinking about? Why is it that I find relaxing a harder activity than staying busy.
The Italians have this word "piacevole" which, in music, means peaceful and agreeable. Just saying the word makes me pine for an afternoon espresso in some remote piazza. I don’t know the noun form of piacevole but I need to find one (maybe a nice bottle of Chanti too) and I need to find it asap.
These days life has been absurdly hectic... landing somewhere in the neighborhood on Frenzied Street and Turbulent Ave. Not unlike (if I may) my 5-wood golf swing. There isn't a need to talk about what it is that's preoccupying my time and sanity but something makes me think that they're probably not the most important things in my life...
Maybe just maybe... it's time to reassess. I think my trip to Europe this coming Saturday is going to give me a chance to do just that.
9:52 AM, September 20, 2005
once again - you're descriptiveness is uncanny
12:35 PM, September 20, 2005
hmm... i wonder what you would have been doing if john woo finished this scene for you?