"Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait" -Longfellow

Monday, February 27, 2012

A Chronicle of 2011 / Visions of 2012

After some joyful reflection and conquering some good old fashioned ennui, I've finally (thanks to Kazim's total wizardry) got my 2011 Favorite Songs Mix Thing put together. I think the mix, which I decided to 'officially' call  Ten Thousand Whisperin' and Nobody Listenin': Favorite Songs of 2011, accurately reflects the musical environment of mine and Feli's year. The only rule I followed (stolen from one of my favorite bloggers in the history of the universe) is that no artist, however compelling the argument may be in some instances, has more than one song on the list. Thanks to my procrastination and the peskily persistent intervening of real life, you probably are long done listening to all those other 2011 compilations- so here's one more to consider.

10,000 Whisperin' & Nobody Listenin': Favorite Songs of 2011 

Alternate downloads: (tracked) (un-tracked)
Check the comments for a tracklisting.

As for 2012, as for the looming span of days that bring us nearer (as ever) to a real realization of the realization that the final realization is no realization at all...

First Aid Kit ft. Bright Eyes - King of the World
2012 woke up with the unshakable feeling that she remembered the apocalypse. She stayed so still that she felt she could hear her own stillness, see the stony symbols of smoldering sadness celebrated and taste the steel of endlessly spilling blood in her mouth. "What's in a year?" she asked numbly out loud. In her thought-formed nook she held a removed dominion that proved the gentleness of the whole world.

Grimes - Eight
Her morning shower felt like pellets of fluffiest metal caressing her tired body and her vertiginous other body, made of light and frustrations. She danced and longed, strangely but wholly, for a place that she knew so well... yet had never been. Her movements described the flex and lazy precision of time as it nudges against the immature dimensionality of the universe. Only a nagging mechanical voice kept her from loosing herself in fertile anticipation of stifling joy and light-hearted pain. She almost tripped over the figures in the steam as she got out, preparing to dry.

Cloud Nothings - No Future / No Past
Equally bored with anticipation and reflection, there was a pathetic shallowness to her suffering. She sat at the computer and laughed about anything at all, like a good existentialist would. There would probably be time to save the world; even if she didn't remember or buy all the reasons for doing so... still, she hadn't considered whether or not that was important (and wasn't planning on it). If a girl screams under the sheets and no one is around to hear it, does that mean the world really ends?

Julia Holter - In the Same Room
Often, she had wished she could put her history book on a turn table and play it backwards like an old Beatles record- not looking for clues about the walrus, but trying to pin down the moment humanity took a wrong turn in the wilderness and called it society. Her contemplation reminded her too much of last year, so she decided she'd head downstairs for noise and coffee. Halfway down the stairs, however, she thought she heard a distant organ flutter and felt a soaring feeling calling her to her room. Instant coffee, and the promise of living in the same room with her true being this year, called her and quieted her heart's longing for a company that might as well have vanished anyway.

Here We Go Magic - Make Up Your Mind
In her kitchen, she studied the peeling colors on her wall- wondering if the landlords hadn't been a little too stingy with the coats. She felt as though that was to be expected... "We all try to get away with as little color as possible, when all we want is the rainbow on a dance floor." She didn't believe in ghosts, of course, but at moments like this (blurred with the white flame of nearness to oblivion due to excess perceptiveness) she had occasionally felt as if some far spirit communicated with something aboriginal in her depths. Forgoing the jittery familiar focus of her favorite roasted bean, she poured herself a shot and whistled a tune that she felt certain belonged only to her heart.

Mariachi El Bronx - Love Sick (Bob Dylan cover)
Tequila and Dylan's elder rasp and freeways would forever be a single experience in her head. A hangover provides a freedom some fail to notice, akin to the dragon sleeping upon the dramatic death of the town. Everybody has to wake up and it really doesn't matter what soul you're in- or dimension. When she thought about compassion, she always remembered her sickest moments and wept at the general poverty of our collective mind for mindfulness. "We are probably all sick of something", she concluded to herself... wondering if her subatomic particles considered her a brat.

Air - Cosmic Trip
Between yawns, she felt as though a million years had passed since she woke... and it was barely noon. Finishing her shot and pouring another one, she sat down on the bed in her room and gazed at a faux Mayan statuette on her old nightstand; the one she'd brought over from her parents house. She pondered the meaning of the strange glyphs on the surface of the carved rock and pretended to understand a mystical truth about the eternal continuance of life and suffering as she took the shot and lay her head down. She was going to have wonderful dreams. She was going somewhere far away. She chuckled to herself - bemused at her lack of apprehension - and sighed.

Liam the Younger - An Easy Place pt. 1
She could tell you she is many things. And would. She could have your worst at her whimsy and your head in her hands, but she gives away a day by day that is huger and hungrier than all memory- and blinder than the trees. She is the end of time and faith, but the magnification of smaller and more honest gods. She is a simple regular important person, as in love with being missing as with being missed. She is exhaustion and eternal creation, hope and emptiness- oh, and the sunset of frogs will ask "why should we worry what's after the feast?"