Berkeley's Puzzle

New Irrelevant Revelations here! Let me know what you think. Extra respect points if you have a "solution" to this puzzle. :)

Shoes

I'm mildly obsessed with my new shoes. Can't wait to test out their dancing abilities. :) 

In The Stream

Every time I listen to this song, I feel such a certain, inexplicable way. I can't understand why S. Carey is not insanely famous yet. I die. The whole album is worth a serious listen, from start to finish, preferably on a rainy day in a darkened room sprawled on the floor. Cricket-filled nights will work too, I suppose. That's more seasonal anyways...


I was folded by ferns 
You could return, the earth 
All to her 
Open mouth 
Look up and out 
Fall my failures 
To the ground 
I know, I know, I know all them 

I am wind in the pines 
I am a line you can't define 
When the dawn breaks 
When the moon shakes
In my love-lock landscapes 
I know, I know, I know all them
 
Be in my vision 
My gardener 
I'll be an architect 
On window steam
And I'll be in the stream

Be in that canyon 
That corridor 
I'll be an architect 
On window steam 
I'll be in the steam

Pink

The sky is tinted pink. The air itself is tinted pink, so every object appears as if through a weak-grade instagram filter. The sun set just a few minutes ago, but the hotness of the day still seeps into the house and gives me a slight, pleasant, and sticky headache.

I went to the dentist today and the fluoride was cherry flavored. At least it wasn't bubble gum. Still, I almost gagged.

I've just spent some time watching videos of obscure musicians playing for Pitchfork in random corners of Paris. In one band, a percussionist banged a rock against a railroad rail. It wasn't a special rock. It was probably chosen at random from all the other rocks. I envied him.

I got a new pair of shoes today, and I was excited for them, but they were a tad too small. They were kind of tinted pink too, actually. But unevenly, in splotches.

Seize the Day

"And the great, great crowd, the inexhaustible current of millions of every race and kind pouring out, pressing round, of every age, of every genius, possessors of every human secret, antique and future, in every face the refinement of one particular motive or essence -- I labor, I spend, I strive, I design, I love, I cling, I uphold, I give way, I envy, I long, I scorn, I die, I hide, I want. Faster, much faster than any man could make the tally."

            -Saul Bellow, Seize the Day

Slender

My grandma and grandpa seem decidedly unconcerned that the new Slenderman-themed video game is the most (THE MOST) terrifying thing ever. My grandma was just a little confused about how to turn left. I, on the other hand, spent most of the time begging her to stop playing.

If you're brave enough, this has the info and download. It's free! And if you beat it, let me know. Although I don't have the guts to play it, I still want to know what happens!

Here's another picture that better captures my overall experience with the game. I'm basically a baby. 

San Francisco

Last week, my dad decided to plan a little day trip up to San Francisco. I always forget about the fact that I live so close to the city, and every time I go I'm amazed at how much I have yet to see and do there. As a kid, whenever French family friends would come by, I would get dragged along for the obligatory, hospitable tour, but it was never a thing I found fun. My memories of these excursions are colored by a disagreeable, blase pride in my familiarity with the place. Now that I realize how foolish I was, it'd be nice to spend more time there and go adventuring from time to time, and not just for concerts.

We started off by eating lunch in the most delicious of all Thai restaurants. Pad thai. I die. The place was a little hole in the wall in the very asian part of Irving Street. The music -- a solo of some twangy asian instrument playing a slightly out of tune, tuneless melody -- was on infinite loop and made me a little nauseous. Our waitress stared vacantly off into space as she scribbled furiously and assertively on her notepad. But again, ridiculously delicious.

After lunch we drove to a trail head at some beach south of the Golden Gate (I'm doing amazingly at specifics, aren't I?) and took a *short* (read: unexpectedly long) hike around that part of the cost. My father thought it was foolish for us to bring water, so we of course ended up spending 8ish dollars on two bottles of water at a touristy snack shop at the base of the Golden Gate. Dehydration is to be mightily feared, I remind myself often! The hike would've have been beautiful, and I could've almost imagined myself in some type of wilderness, except for the constant drone of traffic always not too far off. 

I fell asleep on the car ride back trying to read my book. 

The picture: I really like taking pictures of flowers. Although I took a bunch of pictures of the bridge, and although this isn't the best of them, I thought it was the least stereotypical. We were lucky to catch clear skies. 

The Wild Hunt Cover

Here's my first recording of the summer, and hopefully I'll get to do many more. It had been a while, so there was definitely a lot of frustration and it took way longer than it should have. 

This is also my first recorded Tallest Man cover. Woo! Definitely different from covering Bon Iver, where you can hide crappy intonation behind layers and layers of multitracking. None of that cheating here ;) Also, I can't help but laugh at my folk twang. Not premeditated, I swear. 

Hope you like it and happy listening! (Negative and positive) feedback always welcome.  

Reading

The other day, I became afraid because I realized that there are way too many books worth reading, and I am never not going to be running out of time to read them all. I'm wondering how long the panicked practice of swallowing books whole, as if they were chocolate cakes (as my dad would say), can possibly last. My guess would be for the duration of the summer. As I lay on the carpet next to the window like a lizard, trying to soak up as much sun as possible, I recall this feeling of grogginess that comes from a day of doing nothing but reading. I probably should be working, but real life feels not-so-real today, or at least not very pressing or important. :)

Fifth Business

"So far, so good. But you cannot make a plot work without another man, and he is usually a baritone, and he is called in the profession Fifth Business, because he is the odd man out, the person who has no opposite of the other sex. And you must have Fifth Business because he is the one who knows the secret of the hero's birth, or comes to the assistance of the heroine when she thinks all is lost, or keeps the hermitess in her cell, or may even be the cause of somebody's death if that is part of the plot. The prima donna and the tenor, the contralto and the basso, get all the best music and do all the spectacular things, but you cannot manage the plot without Fifth Business! It is not spectacular, but it is a good line of work, I can tell you, and those who play it sometimes have a career that outlasts the golden voices. Are you Fifth Business? You had better find out."
             -Robertson Davies, Fifth Business