Unknown Mortal Orchestra // So Good At Being In Trouble


This song is in perfect condition. The kind of condition you’d want to find your newly salvaged Craigslist record player; minty with usage and dusty with treble. I can’t grip the words for this sound because it’s just being. Even if it’s version of ‘being’ is a grand ole ploy to get you to throw your hands in the air and call it quits. Or quitting the constant denial.

Some people are happy, and then others seem to be constantly sad. And there are the lunatics who have a collision of emotions banging against their rib cage pleading to be let go. A deep, aggressive pounding wanting discovery and invention. Sex and money. Problem-solving and sincere problem-arson.

Seems some of us are addicted to the heat.

Twin Shadow // Forget

They always said Grateful Dead’s “American Beauty” was the album that could change the way you thought.  Actually alter the spectrum in which your mind actively behaved.  Dismantling the normal thought process and smashing it into a tiny million pieces.  And while I’m not the person who will begin to compare such legends of an era to a newwave, chillwave, semi-dance/trance music – Twin Shadow and their song Forget – I can still physically and mentally understand how the two are so alike on their separate, infinite musical planes.

Forget by Twin Shadow alters my mind, albeit how NORML-Y enhanced it is and was experiencing.  I literally would nestle myself in all the dreamy analogies this song would allow.  It’d be like waking up on your best pillow scented by your favorite man.  The kind of nighttime slumber song we listen to on our heels atop my bed, stoned and singing as the night drifts into our dreams.

Kings of Leon // Woo Hoo

I’m a restless little worker bee. Always thinking the grass is greener somewhere else, never realizing that every time I look back on my life I only see the good. A late-blooming optimist with burdens of a fake pessimist. Can’t I just be? My restlessness makes me nomadic and I wander all over the place never truly settling. My favorite place to be is in transit.

New York City is weird. I’ve done things I never thought I’d see in this lifetime. I fuck around with so many different breeds of people I’m beginning to question why. My motives? Please, they don’t even exist. I have no motives, just opportunities that fall into my lap. A person with heavy will would turn many down, but I can’t say no. And I confuse myself (and others) by my complicated theories and choosy wants. On one hand, I’ll steal you into a forbidden room and have my way with you only to politely abolish any hint of attraction the very following day. Sometimes, I convince myself to fuck with you through any written word, and then when I see you in person I continue these games for my own self pleasure. But you know I always cave and find myself naked in your shower after storming through your front door in a fiery burst of gregarious and exaggerated movements. A spiraling ball of chaos, sometimes my antics even surprise myself. Like that time in bed when I rolled over and made the first move knowing quite well this was much too intimate for us two friends to be sharing together. And I outwardly love these behaviors, but not everyone in my life approves.

I guess I’m exhausted of looking like the lost cause. People have come to my mercy and offered to help pay my way, provide for me, guide me. It’s so abundant and in my face that lately I can’t help but look inwardly at myself. Do they see something I don’t? I have so much fun in my experiences even if they sometimes are dangerous or morally inappropriate; but it’s a life noteworthy and exalting that it titillates every cell in my body.

There is this one itch I can’t get over. I want to move to the beach, somewhere exotic, and give up this life to take a mental detour. I want to work a shit-job and surf all day long. I want to own a jet-ski rental company and enjoy the freest things in life, with people who love to lay in the sun and drink everyday. It’s just for me. And I hope I get my shit together soon enough that my escapism can ravish my bones. I need money, I need to write about all of my ins and outs, ups and downs, and I need to stop giving a fuck about who I need to make happy. The only person I need to please is myself and in exchange I will give back to the community with good humor, good intentions, and a helping hand.

Basia Bulat // Before I Knew

You always think that you’ll be the best something.The best at math, the best tennis player, the best artist, the best at persuading people to give you free stuff – the best choice for someone else. And then there comes the day when you realize you’re second best, if that. And those visuals of trophies or dream jobs or holding the hand of the person you thought you were perfect for, well, those fantasies dissolve. And you soon begin to realize that you may never be the winner in any situation. you may just be the one who almost made it to the finish line first, or the “wrong-time wrong-place” person.

So the way you rationalize things in your mind slowly changes. You come to face that you are average and the thought of being on top – be it hooking up the hottest guy, getting with your best friend’s crush, keeping secrets hidden because you feel empowered, or trying your hardest to make yourself famous in modern media culture – well, it sort of fades away. It doesn’t matter anymore because you’ve gained valuable insight that you may not be aware of. So I’m going to tell you flat out what you have now that many other’s around you don’t.

You stopped competing.

Most likely you were unaware that your actions and decision making was a form of competition. But once you found yourself on the second-tier within your friends, lovers, coworkers – whatever – you stopped giving a shit if you were going to be the best/win/finish on top. Being burned and feeling defeat over and over made you realize one of two things: One, you can only trust yourself and never forget it in life. Two, you realize you could switch your thinking to bigger-picture social policy and cultural agenda.

And these societal ordinances end up getting the best from you because you stopped running in the rat-race for social fame. You break the habit of exploiting yourself to fight for the top-spot on the social ladder. And inadvertently, you then have removed yourself from inconsequential matters. And the point of it all is that once this happened, you acknowledged that what The Beatles alway preached in their pop-gushy songs was all you really need is love. And your heart widens uncontrollably. And you start to forgive and love despite all of the shit that you have to deal with from other people. But it’s not their fault so many of them are blindly (or very, very strategically aware) competing to be the best. This new world has crafted egos and manipulated us to embellish our happiness on social platforms that in so many ways have corrupted our most natural state of being. It’s robbery to the point of fraud.

And you realize that your happiness can always be remembered in nature and Mother Earth. You feel it in the heat of the summer with a blanket of stars above, and your feet can feel it even on the coldest day in New York City as the windchill tickles your cheeks. Because innately you are removed from caring about superficial capers. And now you’re brain is clear and free to munch on social gains that will actually benefit widespread cultural issues and not just a 2×4 box on your homepage with your 140 characters to build upon.

This is freedom. Not so much being “above” anything, but instead being on a entirely different communicative and philosophical plane. You are running in the wild free world now instead of investing most of your time on pages and likes, one-upping and empowerment, that is solely based on “winning” or beating others. And this is you at your best because you are done trying to find fame and popularity in meaningless prospects. If you feel me  by now, you should be smiling widely and loving yourself wholly.

Jukes // Something Important

You’re not mad at me, are you? I don’t know, you just seem like you’re acting weird. Look, how am I supposed to have an answer for you. I try the best way I know how. I’m realistic.

Today was the first day my house felt like home.
New York felt like my cushion that sort of props me up in bed. I was able to just sit and chill with some music and a friend. She was talking about music and girls she thought were soo beautiful. We had pasta and ate well in high spirits. I was thinking about that time at b’s that we finally did it but the door was open and your friend was sort of putting his shoes on in the other room. The craziest chills I got from you slightly putting it in before having to pull out really quickly before your friend saw us. You know we didn’t leave on bad terms. No one had said a serious “fuck off” yet in a screaming match. We only ever did that when we wanted to play with each other, me more than you.

Look. I’m into you. I really like you. I want to pick up right where we left off and just keep going in that direction. And I want to have ten thousand more memories with you so that I’ll have an actual number to count to so that this time I can figure something out before our time runs out. I would too. I’d choose you over everything else if I knew how bad I’d actually be hurting with you not here. This isn’t just like, “oh, he’s gone, that really sucks.” It’s more of a you’re not here so how many different ways can I try to make myself forget. And forgetting is harder than just admitting that I can’t really keep this up much longer.

It’s been some time now and you’re still heavy on my mind. Every time I ask you if you feel this too, you tell me I think too much. And then I feel like I did something wrong while feeling shitty about the person I am. And it makes me not like you as much because I’m not sure if you will ever just let me think without shaking your overwhelmed head. That’s important to me, you know. And I’m fucking sick of saying, “Well, your happiness is all that matters to me.” What lesson am I trying to preach this time? And to who? It’s pulling at me left and right, actually tearing me down this seam deep in my chest that physically thumps when I think about you being happy with someone else, scarier, without me.

I feel like I should mention that the other night I had this dream about your ex-girlfriend. She was playing this old vintage film from a projector on the side of her house, not recognizing that everyone on the street could see. Basically that scene from Problem Child if you even know the reference. But the film she had on was pictures of all my two best friends as she and her bitchy girlfriend laughed and pointed. And then my picture scrolled across the wall and she laughed harder just as you were walking into the room. And you sort of rolled your eyes and told her to turn it off as you set a tray of food down for them. And it didn’t matter to your ex that you had told her to cut the shit because she knew that in a few minutes tensions would settle and she’d be able to snuggle up in the nook where your chin and neck meet. And this dream has turned into an entire day’s nightmare, one that didn’t frighten me as much as shake my insides. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day long.

What we had was from another planet, so why are we just letting it go? I made you smile more in a day than in the past few months of your life. It was like finding out that you were born under a lunar eclipse the day I called you a moonperson. Or how about the night I met you, catching a bouquet and walking into a bar that I’d already written off. That wasn’t where we were supposed to meet, you know? We were there on accident, or purpose with poor planning. Because we never did get our chance to tear eachother apart while we were still in it. And now all we’re doing is at picking at the scab of what could’ve been. But I’m not mad at you. I’ll stop worrying about why you’re treating me like this because I know it’s easier to be mean to the people we care about, but can’t be with. I’ll take all of your whiplash until you’ve run out. Maybe then I’ll have enough in me to entirely forgive you.

Emma Louise // Jungle

I’ve slowed down on dreaming as of late. My visions are still filled with thoughts of grandeur, but I notice still my pace has fallen back. I think about my day-to-day and I now read more articles than books. I dream of living on a beach and still I fantasize, but even my thoughts of sex are slimmer. And I don’t like this/agree with it whatsoever.

And it’s because I have a job – and I like it very much and I love that it is in Manhattan. But this city never fucking sleeps and either do I. So I stay up late and roll into work just on time. My game face is on from there. Be it talking with clients, casually flirting, or pretending to solve very minuscule problems considering how many problems can my position really face?

So my visionary list of to-do’s and want-to-do’s must begin again. Here goes nothing.

Dreaming, running, creating, drawing, screenprinting, traveling, getting lost in fashion and music, shadows, children’s books, water and rafting, sledding, nudity, rooftops and bikinis, stretching, hot steam, slow breathing, massages, blowjobs, growing, smoking, photos, climaxing, holistic treatments, writing, searching for adventure, barhopping, getting into travel and food, new prospects, employment with friends, tattoos, big plans, big eyes, falsies, trying new toys and treatments, scar tissue building and shedding, recycling old favorites, new men in bed, finding women to kiss, trailing on never-ending dreams.

My Morning Jacket // Wordless Chorus

How come musicians are some of the worst dancers? They create the entire show. Actors and actresses in costumes pretending to move that way naturally. It seems a little forced considering no one who warrants attention actually seeks it. It’s just a natural phasing.

And why are we awkwardly linked to people we accidentally become best friends with. Like hey! It’s orientation week and I have no friends, so I’ll cling to you because you also are friendless. Then we pair off inseparably for a two week span before finding our more realistic click, trying hard to forget the former bond just to erase the embarrassment.

Too many people I do this one too. I’ll figure them all out before actually meeting them – see them around, listen to them speak while in the same class, trying to not look in their emerald eyes when I see them in person even though I’ve seen like ten-thousand pictures on my computer. It’s weird how we live. Because then you meet these enigmas in real-life and they usually sort of suck. But it’s hard to really forgive yourself for thinking they were something greater than their reality.

Sometimes I think about why I like lace too. Lace feels best on my breasts. Every slight movement in lace makes for a caressing, faint massage. Especially in sensitive regions, it can be quite pleasurable. I like to dress up for myself sometimes. Wear my raciest underwear to a mundane work day, sometimes even to the gym. I like pretending I’m a lot of things, but maybe I need to start understanding that I’m not playing house – maybe this is my real life and my real mannerisms.

I once saw a video of myself and it was at first intimidating because I was talking to a fake audience at my camera. But I kept replaying the video because I really liked dissecting my lips and my decanting slur that I realized, maybe I just like myself.

And I do. Enough to know when to give what you are given. Thus, cleaning out a rusted refrigerator, sharing the dinner I then made, while beforehand, smoking up my roommates. Something had to give, and it was me.

Feel good always even if you’re chorus isn’t as wordless but as pointless as can be. At least you’re free.

J.Period K’naan // Relationships Lay

I long to see you in the morning light.

Whatever colors you have… in your mind. dum dum dum

I had it all figured out with you. Cut you off cold-turkey. Quick and the most painless. But something crept in late at night as I laid dreaming, looking at the stars outside my window. I longed to see you underneath them on some gritty terrain, fossilized by the whirling nightly winds and swooshing waves as she sang her lullabies. She softened my hardend shell and let me rest my shoulders. My neck relaxed and my fingers tingled out of their numbness. The blood was rushing back to my arms and legs and I began to feel your presence. I wanted to smile and bounce on my toes as I drifted through the day. I was warmer towards all walks of people, thinking of others before myself. I wanted to hum every second because silence was too mundane. And you were full of color and blushing scents.

And I remembered just why I couldn’t keep you out. When I was with you it was broken down into seconds, like time was opening it’s house to us. And when I talked to you by phone your voice was just enough to keep me waiting until I could see you. And now that my time with you has to be shared with things that are out of our reach, it makes those warmest memories something bitter. A cold chill comes and I want to shout at you because I don’t know the next time I can hear you, let alone see you… And my instant reaction is to block you out so I don’t have to feel. But I want to feel, especially the goodness you always offer. Why leave that great attraction and mutual enjoyment outside in the frozen? You can be all good things to me even if I can never keep you.

I guess it’s safe for me to admit, that I rather keep a piece of you even if it can never be the whole of you. And a piece, while small, can fill up more voids than with you gone.

 

And I like smiling. After all is said and done, I’m happy just doing whatever it is that keeps me dreaming, believing, fantasizing, lusting, and making me float.

 

Sail // Awolnation

 –

To me this is the definition of a perfect video. A one-song soundtrack synced to some crazy awesome shit that sucks you in.

This dude is a male siren. A bit skinny for my taste but the cuts in his back and stomach absolutely make up for it. He’s a good fuck I’d say. Not bad on the eyes but like Dionysus in the sheets — sans orgy because this frenchie is clearly a lover of one (or two) ladies at a time, but not a bukaki kinda guy.

To think a body can move like this. That we’re capable of convincing ourselves that this is what we have minds for. To learn new acts that are as cool as this. Shit’s possible; all of it. We just have to try and practice and “think we can-think we can” and practice some more. Set down McCarthy writes as the voice of Suttree’s pals. All these dudes roamed old train cars and walked in barren farm towns up and down the southeastern coast not trying to do much at all. But it was fine for them, and it’s even more fine for this backdoor dancer who tortures his body into submissive pleasure. And mine too. It’s been on repeat and I’m stoned just enough to fantasize about trying something like this out sometime soon.

Sleeping Lessons // The Shins

I’d give anything to be riding with the windows down in Lauren’s old SUV up the hill on our way to Rich’s pond.

It was the summer of 2006 and the only direction we had was to just go. We were 18 and undeniable reckless. The back of her trunk was filled with clear, unmarked liquor bottles that were bought from some seedy New Jersey hook-up because our fake ID’s only worked for getting into bars. We’d wake up in some random bed to one of our phones ringing telling us the plans for the day. It was either swimming at some water hole in Noxen where people roamed the streets with several missing teeth, going to the drive-in with a couch and a keg in the back of J’s truck, wading in the lake from being abandoned and left for dead in the middle of the water because we had a distracted jet-ski driver, and always spending the rest of the night partying at the pond with a campfire and the moon as our only light.

This was the summer I broke up with my high school boyfriend and decided to not make plans. Lauren and I instantly gravitated towards each other because the only agenda we had was to laugh our entire day away. We’d drink beer and bbq, suntan in our dirty bikinis that we had been living in, ride quads and motorcycles with no helmets simply because we didn’t think of putting them on, do back-flips off docks while midnight, naked swimming, while drinking moonshine right out of old mason jars. It was bliss in every way you could imagine the word.

I kissed enough girls and guys that summer to count myself as a seasoned pro. I swam in dirty ponds that permanently browned my skin. My liver was shot but I was 18 and easily flexed back. I thank my strong sense of drinking even to this day on that summer because I taught my body to accept the life I was currently throwing it into. I wanted to be free by having no cares, so I found this sort of love in hot-tubs and pools, queen beds and bathrooms. It was all the same. A fast-paced blur of hot sun and breezy nights, tight skin surrounding my cheeks and stomach muscles in pain from laughing.

My current world can be found on the 7th floor in a Manhattan suite. I am surrounded by chairs and people talking incessantly on phones. There are no dull moments in my day but there is a constant hunger for something that is more carefree. I hope I can live off of pennies so that I can take a year off and go live at the beach or in some podunk town where I’ll be able to get my skin wet and glistening with spring water while getting a nice, easy high for days on end. And I hope my wish comes true with an added bonus of a close friend or lover to join me on another one of my great adventures.

I can’t sit still for any amount of time… I guess it’s my Achilles’ Heal.

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