'And Russia was a Candy - Store.'

Recently, I visited the Museum of Russian Art, a lovely church-turned museum in Minneapolis, to look at their Nesting-Doll Exhibit. Indeed those little lacquer dolls are interesting little things, and this exhibit (though not overwhelmingly big) was quite nice, ranging from tiny painted peasant women to world figures to even tinier painted aristocratic women. While there, I also saw some startlingly beautiful old-ish and new-ish portraits and landscapes by Russian artists, and on the middle and tallest level, respectively.

In loose relation, I want to also bring up another startling beauty I found in the the music of one Nesey Gallons. He popped up awhile ago now, over in Elephant Six-land, and I am really taken with his songs. He has out one LP officially--Eyes & Eyes & Eyes Ago (ignoring those home-released discs, although I hope to see them too, someday)-- and it is just wonderful. I recommend it to people. (Incidentally, I actually spotted Mr. Nesey at a show once, [he's cute, too] but I was too bashful to say anything.) Anyway, his circles are released by his record label called Hurrah for Karamazov ( Dostoyevsky is brilliant) and much of his work tangles back to Russian themes. You see, there IS a connection. At any rate, his music is just so chillingly nice, sung in a forlorn, soft-spoken wail, with his guitar and dear Julian's accompaniments of saw, chord organ, and countless things. All together, it makes a big stew of niceties to the ears. Indeed melancholy may seem the mood, but when I hear Nesey's music, I always feel happy and hopeful. He is sort of the new kid, but from what I have been fortunate enough to hear, he's as marvelous and seasoned as the rest of that wonderful old collective. That's quite a nice thing.

It was a Cliché.

Today I saw something delightful.

I was walking through the hallway, and I saw a poor girl misstep, and she slipped and fell on a banana peel!! The cliche banana-peel fall, and in all genuineness! It made me laugh and smile all day.

Fragments and Droplets of Wonderfulness.

Swingsets :: Grandparents :: Old family photographs :: Ginkgo trees :: Shared deep thought :: The package waiting for you in the mail when you return :: Sitting in trees on windy days :: Spinning for a long time :: Suliko :: Books, especially with characters that are you :: You :: Wonderful, wonderful kind people :: Strawberry freezer jam on homemade bread :: Psychedelia and it beautiful music :: Joe :: A stream of water running over hands :: Connections with people, especially strangers :: Feelings of things :: A good fountain pen :: Papers of different types :: Librarys :: Old things :: Crackles and pops on records :: Rainy stormies :: Bicycles :: Newspaper :: Fruit :: The jarring and beautifully ethereal singing of Julian :: Being with Julian and Co. while he sings :: Bananas :: Finding the first music you really really love :: Soft broken in jersey knit fabric :: Closed eyes :: Relaxing your entire self into a soft bed :: Hot oatmeal with milk :: Brilliant colors in leaves and skies :: Lying in some grassy sunshine :: so many things...

The Scary Zone

Halloween, with eerie sixties twilight zone-esque family photos. I wish everyone much fright.

Tom Rush at the Cedar

At the beginning of the week, my father presented me with a concert ticket of one of his very favorite artists, Tom Rush. In all honesty, I knew nothing about Mr. Rush's music. I think I knew one song. Darn young people these days.
So the shindig last night took place at the Cedar Cultural Center, where I hope to visit numerous times more in the future. I shook hands with Tom himself before the show, and he seems to be quite a gentle fellow (and I think he bears slight resemblance to Mark Twain). He played a long set, (none of which I knew--oi!), with one intermission. I must say, being an objective listener, he's got loads of talent. Whether you're into folksy-folk or not, to stand up there with only an acoustic guitar like he did and make songs have substance, and real bottom, takes musicality. And he's funny, telling jokes and sardonic stories of past times, nonchalantly talking about a bus trip he spent with the likes of Janis Joplin, the Grateful Dead, and Buddy Guy, to name a few. One song in particular stuck out, "Panama Unlimited," I think it was called? He made his guitar sing so nicely, you could really hear its voice. Very smooth indeed.

As an afterthought, I couldn't help feeling a little out of place. The atmosphere gave me a vibe of an era long past, where everyone who saw its heyday was trying to resurrect it. Even people talked of way back when, when such and such bar was still open. It gave me just a hint of melancholy. I've not even yet entered my "golden age" yet, but I'm already feeling sad about how things will be once it has passed. Change happens, and it's inevitable, I suppose. But traces of those eras still linger in the city culture and people. It's interesting, and makes me mumble, "H'm...."

Furry eared things and other interesting bits.

I have a new object of affection. She's named Pebbles, and she's the sweetest little baby bunny ever. I love her so much. And she's getting fat.
I've been having such an unhealthy obsession with books as of late. I love books, I love them. I love everything about them, I love reading them, and holding them in my hands, I love their smells. It's just so good. I want to read so many, so many. There's not time enough though right now, I'm afraid. So many books I want to get in; I don't even know about half of them yet, I'm sure. I want to be the keeper of an enormous library full of books in every language of every genre. That would be so very wonderful.
It has been making so much wind here, I flew a kite last week. It was so amazing. There were stormy gusts of wind to knock one over, and they caught themselves under that kite and took it as far as the string allowed. We really did run out of string. It was so high above the trees, it could have been a hazard to air traffic. It really was just the best. You know, I believe that it was the Chinese who invented the kite. The Chinese invented lots, they often don't get the credit, though (I'm looking at you, movable-type being credited to Gutenberg). But I digress. Either way, I recommend kite-flying to you, regardless of your opinions on movable-type.

A Short Anecdote from Grade One.

Here, I 've very brief story from my youth (which wasn't very long ago at all).
It was Mrs. Olive's first grade class, and we were to take a survey on a very controversial matter: that of favorite colors. Mine was undoubtedly orange. I had even found friendship with a classmate, who also favored orange. This should have been an easy thing.
But immediately, it all began to fall apart. Mrs. O. called around the room asking each kid what was there favorite color? Red, blue, red, blue, red, red, blue, red... and so on. (Childhood political party affiliations, perhaps?) Until my orange comrade--"Orange. " It crept up to me, and during the wait I was having a terrible trial in my mind, something á la Jean Valjean. I didn't want to stick out from the vast sea of Blues and Reds and say something so passe as orange... but I knew my Orange friend would know I was lying. Finally, it was my turn-- and I uttered "Blue."

Everyone picked blue or red, except for the single Orange. I regret the vote even now, because it's so against my free-thinking code. Just because I wanted to blend and fit in to that purple mess of kids, I forsaked my first love, Orange. Don't let it happen to you. Tell them your favorite color, my friends, and do it with confidence!

The Music Tapes present: Song for Planet Pluto

This rumour-song has finally surfaced over at the Townhall, much to our surprise and glee:


Hey thanks, Pitchfork!

A song for Pluto, that poor once-planet. The song is very pretty and very meaningful, and the cute video complements it perfectly. It's a sort of humorous melancholy little piece. But it works out in the end, so it's all right. Also, hello there, Kevin Barnes, I didn't know you were an astronomy enthusiast--it's nice seeing you again. Woo, Julian, I like your songs. Trum didi didi trum trum rum a dum.

Birthday!

Today is my birthday, WOO! In honor of the holiday (heh), I have for you my favorite birthday party photo ever, directly from the Grandparents' archives..

There's old Antonio, little Marc the man of the hour, Mary, and Gary. For me, this is just the best photo... look at those kids' faces! Their eyes and smiles are so cute and they say so much. Regretfully, I think that the poor old clown cake got brutally cut and eaten shortly after having this photo taken, but you know, I never get tired of looking at this one.

The Breeders at the Fine Line

Went to see the Breeders again yesterday, and they really never fail to amaze me. This show was arguably even better than last year's... and that's saying something. Maybe it's because I was directly under Kim for this one...
They opened with "Hoverin'," while Kim manned the snare (well, mostly-- I know your drumroll secret, Kim) and sang. Kim and Kelley are as cool as ever. They're a perfectly polite and amiable pair. I love them both. Cheryl seems well acclamated now, as well. She handled herself surprisingly well when Kelley ripped out one of her red dreadlocks. Plan on seeing a Kelley Deal bag with an ratty old red dread for the handle in the future. Mando and Jose didn't talk much, as usual, but they played their instruments phenomenally (like always). There was no lack of variety with songs from every album, plus Amps. Their sets are always great... they don't neglect their older albums like some bands will. The Breeders, they've got it down. They know how to put on a great show, and they do everytime.

P.S.--I love you Kim, and I'm happy I got to experience you spitting on me!

Creepy Skull Cloud

The bony face, can you see it? An omen, maybe? Dear me, I hope not.

Conglomeration

First: Let us wish our dear Nelson Mandela happy birthday. Happy 91st, Madiba! You're a hero!

Next: Going to see the Breeders again on August the 11th. I'm getting pretty ecstatic about that. Plus, I learned how to properly open a banana--hint, try pinching the other side. I've been playing my saw on the roof and I got a pair of sunglasses at the antique store for 400 cents that make me look like Dr. Strangelove and I've begun the construction of my tiny cardboard house. Lots of things I've done.

And, I have gotten through most of one of the grandparents' photo albums, which I dubbed the Brown Album. Sounds like a Beatles or Weezer type of name, doesn't it. This one was filled with zillions of old ones of my grand-relatives and their relatives and it is all just brilliant. Here I have

a couple of my favorites. On the left is my late Uncle Butch (recall?) holding a rat he caught. The little mobster on the right is my Grandpa Tony, whom I idolize, standing ring with a huge pile of wood making for a picturesque backdrop. These are circa 1935 or 36, making Butch and Grandpa around 13 and 9 years old, respectively.

Honestly, I never get tired of looking at these. Maybe it's just a personal obsession, but when I look at them it's like visiting an alternate space, and I try to piece that these are the people I know. Time, man, it's a bloody spaceship. I'll put up more of these soon, hopefully.

Out of the Archives

I am beginning a great effort this summer to copy all my grandparents' old photos into digital. The idea began this year while searching for a single photo of my great-grandfather Antonio, when I was shown album after album after album of wonderful old photos of my predecessors, most of whom I never got to meet! To me, it's some sort of trove; hundreds of fading, black-and-whites that show the people who've put me here. It's both an aesthetic pleasure as well as a historical one. It's all there, but it's vulnerable, too. I wouldn't want some freak accident (volcanic eruption, alien invasion, return of the super-ape) to go and ruin them all. And so begins my quest...