Yes. Saw Neutral Milk Hotel. Live. At BAM.
There isn’t much to say about the show that hasn’t already been said somewhere on the internets. It was magic. The kind of concert that you carry around in your heart.
The whole set was a shot of adrenaline – but also vulnerable and sincere. I kept experiencing flashes from my own life – moments that were soundtracked by my incessant listening to In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. Finally getting to see the songs live in a venue I love, surrounded by people, was surprisingly emotional. I am wiped out.
This is of a performance they did YEARS ago – but it gives a sense:
I love bridges. There is something so romantic about walking across a bridge.
I have vivid memories of walking to class from my apartment in the Marais and making the delightful decision of what bridge to take that day. Pont des Arts was my favorite – cliché I know.
I would walk back and forth over those bridges, willing for something magical to happen. On my last day in Paris I remember leaning over the railing of Pont des Arts with tears in my eyes and realizing it had already happened – all the little moments that made up my time there were filled with magic.
When I moved to Brooklyn in 2007 it was decidedly not Paris. It was not pretty. There was no obvious romance.
I began walking across the Williamsburg Bridge simply for exercise. What was initially ugly and industrial to me became beautiful. I had the pleasure of observing the most fascinating people on the bridge – a ballerina, a gentleman with a pet fox, a dapper unicyclist. I was lucky enough to catch gorgeous sunrises over the Manhattan skyline. I had wonderful kisses on this bridge. I also threw up on this bridge.
Now that I live in Southern Brooklyn I don’t get to it very often, but I still consider the Williamsburg Bridge my first New York love.
I don’t think I could possibly live in a city without at least one good bridge.
I came across this poem awhile ago. It reminds me of an American girl I knew in Paris who died far too young. Her passing was heartbreaking, but my memories of her are beautiful.
THE CITY OF PARIS HAS YOU IN MIND TONIGHT
The city of Paris has you in mind tonight —
Let its bridges lift you up.
Let the city of Paris write you a letter,
the men of Paris open their windows,
tending their gardens of giant snapdragons.
Let the city perceive you.
It is infinite and slow, it will have you back.
The beds of Paris are made for you,
the city of Paris is sending you
steak and water, wine and eggs,
it has cafes for you, a broad-flowing
river and many cross-breezes.
When vaulting under, when the body
has shown you its foul airless destination,
let the Saint-Sulpice declare living
and visible your clever spirit your kindness.
The tables of Paris will give you food
here are some macarons pink-sweet with jam.
How emptily the time goes. How rosé.
You’re not ready to say goodbye
but will be a ghost here. All over this city
you can go to the movies can hurry stop
buy a bunch of lavender, a book, pastry,
be someone distinct true personal and new.
I like to consider myself a pretty adept little home chef – but sometimes I find myself stuck on a basic step. I love love love this guide from Refinery 29. Especially the steak tips. I love it, but for some reason I find red meat very intimidating.
Don’t you love the graphics?
I’m such a nerd.
I had a rather blue holiday season. Someone I loved very much passed and it hung a general cloud of exhaustion over everything.
Then I happened upon a Muppet Movie Marathon on TV. I watched The Muppets Take Manhattan, The Muppet Movie, and the newest The Muppets all in one sitting.
Those guys make everything better.
I cannot wait for this:
I have been thinking lots about mourning lately. Over the holidays I lost someone I loved very much.
As someone who pushes pain down and ignores it for as long as possible – at least until it rears its ugly head and explodes at an inopportune moment, like oh say, your boyfriends birthday party or a major holiday – I have come to realize that taking the time to be present and mourn things lost is really important.
Generally, when we think about mourning it is related to someone. They have died or our relationship with them has died – i.e. a break up – and we miss them. It is about the person. How they were: what we loved about them, their company, their smell, their touch, etc. Saying goodbye to that person. It is profoundly sad.
I have begun to realize that really, for me, the mourning is more about change. Living and moving on beyond my experience of that person. My lost time with that person is sad. But I own that. The experience is mine. My memories of that experience/person and the way it shaped me live on in me. That is empowering. It is still a sense of loss – but more about growth then about pangs. It feels more honorable to the people you love in a way.
I was thinking about the definition of mourning and came across this:
I really love seeing how the use of the word has declined. I wonder why that is? Just another word fallen to the wayside of our own diminishing vocabularies? Or is it related to some larger cultural shift away from grief?