Thursday, June 25, 2009

Sunday, June 21, 2009

On the basic tools of the trade...

Let's discuss my addiction to journals.

You know when you enter a bookstore there's always that section of stationery and writing implements? Writing pads, journals, pocket books, etc. in every color of the rainbow and in a mass of textures. Now, we've already established that the color/texture cocktail is a dangerous one for me, so you can imagine the heart pounding that goes on as I approach.

There is actual salivating. Automatically, my hand goes out. I have to touch them. Fuzzy velvet one. Smooth leather one. Bristly embroidered one. Alas, upon opening them, more often than not, the attraction ends. There's something about the paper. The paper needs to be just right. It needs to feel smooth to the touch, inviting the drag of the pen. Blue ink, medium ballpoint, of course. For some reason, many of these journals are made with a rough paper. I just don't get it. Don't they know their market? Am I the only one that cringes at the thought of dragging a pen over a rough surface?

Still, ogling can be enjoyed. I know that there are people who scour the gossip magazines and drool over the latest hunk or diva. Here's so-and-so at the opening to that one movie... here's whatzerface at the hottest club in town. People have their crushes and they get their fix rifling through the pages of some glossy magazine before putting it back on the rack and sighing. This is how I see my time at the journal section. Not to mention stationery stores or any trinket store that has journals or writing sets or that general kind of thing. I get to look at all the pretty colors and hold them as I walk up and down the aisle. I run my fingers over the covers and open to pages and discover the innards.

I carry as many as I can. For that brief moment, they are mine. We are becoming one. They will infuse me with all their colors and textures and then I can walk away refueled.

I always hate walking away. Why can't I have this one? It's so pretty. Look how lovely the pages are. Imagine what that would feel like under my pen.

The reason I can't have any is because I've already treated myself to more than I'm actually putting to use. Over the years, I've found some real treasures and simply HAD to have them. So now, I insist that I will go through all of them and use them before I buy any more.

There's the predictable one with DaVinci's Vitruvian Man on the cover. I mean really, isn't that just a stock requirement in the artist's toolbox? In my defense, however, it's the smallest one I own, and it fits right in my purse with no problem, making it quite handy. Then there's the huge one the size of a photo album that a friend gave me because I was visiting him in another town and had made the mistake of not packing my own journal. He hoisted this monster on me due to a moment of panic on my part, but as soon as I returned home, it just became this elephant of a book. It will likely find its way to the Goodwill pile. The red one is due to another moment of urgency. I shan't go into specifics but the fact is I looked for the least expensive thing on the shelf, knowing fully well that I had journals at home which hosted a tidal wave of guilty soul-poking, but I was in a bind, dammit, and needed to write. The orange one is nothing to write home about, as it is just your basic paperback, but it was purchased in Florence and was the receptacle for many a thought and narration as I traveled up and down Italy alone, the way I like it.

My favorite one, right now, is a yellow one. It's not much to look at, quite low-key. Even has the spiral binding versus the stringed kind. But when I touched this little gem, I knew I was taking it home with me. The pages are a sort of cross between paper and plastic. It's impossible to describe because I've never come across anything like it before. There's actually a plushy quality to the paper so that combined with the smoothness, it sort of cradles the pen and the drag just slips right along. It makes medium point come out like dark point. I'm using it sparingly, because I'm going to miss it when it's gone.

They are loved, these little items of joy. They are admired for their aesthetic qualities as well as for their textural ones. They are appreciated for the task that they allow me to perform in a bind. I can't imagine ever finding myself without a number of them in my possession. They are comforting and elating and encouraging and frustrating, but they are necessary.

If they weren't, they wouldn't fit in my hands so naturally, now, would they?

Stop fucking around and just write...



Saturday, June 13, 2009

Singing with the caged bird

I've added some links to some of the music that is, or has been interesting or beloved to me.

Certainly, this does not represent the whole of it, but I figure it's a good start for here and now. I'm sure I'll be adding to it, changing it around, and generally playing with the whole thing and including some blurb about why I've included it at all.

As for the ones that I've started with, let's break it down, shall we?

Make your Own Music Video.
A really cool site. This singer is from Spain and aside from creating a standard video for her latest hit, she also had a site made so that fans can "make their own" albeit under some established context. As it loads, there is a general explanation.

Translated:

Soy tu Aire is a song full of many and few, of orchestras and strings of voice. Of truths and lies, half told. And since you have ups and downs, we wanted to give you something so that you could move with the song.

A brush.
Because I am your air. Here we paint on the air.

Move where you want. Where the song takes you.
You will end up making your own work, one which you will have the option of replaying at the end.

When it's done loading, you get the Play prompt and upon clicking on it, the song begins and you use your mouse or mouse pad to control the drag of the brush. At the end, you can replay it by clicking on "Reproducir cancion" at the top left of the screen.

Soy tu Aire
This is the actual video with the singer from Spain. It's a lovely song, but had it not been for the video, I might never have come across it.

Le Drapeau
I'll be honest and say that I've not really listened to the song as much as I usually do. That said, it's not so bad that it's driven me away, so by default, I like it. What drew me to this was the animation. The images are reminiscent of a high quality graphic novel and I'd be lying if I didn't acknowledge that part of its charm is that it reminds me of one of my closests friends, an avid graphics novel fan.

La Scala
This is another international (Italian) song. She's not for everyone, as she has a sort of screechy quality to her voice. But I liked it. There's nothing in the least bit phenomenal about the video, which breaks my tendency to highlight those videos that have some kind of artistic quality. In case you haven't noticed, I gravitate to the aesthetically original. I like artists who push the envelope and demonstrate a new voice.

Cama y Mesa
That said, the next two songs are unapoligetically personal. These remind me of when I was a little girl. The singer is Brazilian and sings in both Portuguese and Spanish. The Spanish songs were a hit in Mexico in the 70s in that balladier genre much like Barry Manilow and Billy Joel.

Un Millon de Amigos
This song was always over the top sappy, which I JUST DON'T DO... except with this song. It's about wanting many friends to be able to sing and enjoy life, etc. It really wins the syrupy prize when you add the fact that my mom used to have her 1st grade class learn it for the yearly assemblies. Damned thing actually made me teary to hear a crowd of 6 year olds sing:

Yo solo quiero cantar me canto
Pero no quiero cantar solito
Yo quiero un coro de pajaritos

Translated:
I just want to sing my song
But I don't want to sing alone
I want a chorus of little birds.

I know... Wah!

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

This was to be expected.

A little writer's block goes a long way in shaking my already fragile ego. Seems I can conjure up a million things to write about on any given day, but put a computer in front of me and I dry up. Not sure what that's about.

So I have to pull out the heavy artillery. I'm going to have to tap into the things that inspire me and get my gears turning:
  • Music - this may backfire, as I can get so worked up by it that I can't sleep. I have to be careful of what I'm listening to and at what time of the day. Green Day at 1am is not a good idea.

  • Reading - you would think this would work, but it only rarely does. If I'm reading a novel, then it's a lost cause. All I'm interested in is finding out what happens next. But if I'm reading essays by the likes of Sedaris, Eggers, or Fulghum, then the wheels start spinning. Especially if there is humor involved.

  • Colors - Wierd, eh? But yes, colors really do it for me. This is actually a combination of colors and textures. Items like Indian silks with embroidery and soft shag throw pillows are real elixirs. The colors I particularly respond to are the saturated kind like forrest greens and olives and mandarin and royal blues and regal purples. The pastels do absolutely nothing for me. Too diluted.

So I'm thinking I have to decorate around here a little bit...