July 15th, 2013 § § permalink
It’s been years since I posted up a mix publicly but this one needed the release. Please let me know what you think <3
podmatic MP3 link: a wounded brightness, 15 july 2013
Austra – Lose It
Rucyl – Heart Awake
Grimes – Crystal Ball (Doldrums Remix)
Lion Babe – Treat me like Fire
Pipilotti Rist – Wicked Game (Chris Isaak)
Xiu Xiu – I Luv the Valley OH
Lianne La Havas – Forget (Shlomo Remix)
Cat Power – Cherokee (Nicolas Jaar Remix)
µ-ziq – iesope
Jesse Boykins III – The Perfect Blues (Jacques Greene Remix)
datasette – Don’t
John Maus – Heaven is Real
Micah P Johnson – Beneath the Rose
Katie Stelmanis – Crying (Roy Orbison)
Arthur Russell – This is how we walk on the Moon
joseph nothing – Ballad for the Unloved
November 16th, 2012 § § permalink
October 26th, 2012 § § permalink
September 16th, 2012 § § permalink
August 3rd, 2012 § § permalink
Apice means apex in Portugese. I want to learn Portugese and experience it. I want to become a Lusophone. My love affair with Portugal is new, with so much room to grow and discover.
(noun) the top or highest part of something, esp. one forming a point
(verb) reach a high point or climax
Last week I was reading texts for my doctoral exam that are a foreign language to me, even though they are all in English. Then, unexpectedly, a few days later I was on a plane on my way to Warsaw to finish some familial business that started many years ago. I stayed with my uncle in his large IKEA-laden two story apartment in Kabaty, one of the new neighbourhoods of Warsaw. His three children were away at camp, so it was just him, his wife and I. I watched them move through the house. I watched them moving together but never in the same direction, always holding onto their own space. She wasn’t there often, as she was always in a haste going to “work”, and only stopping by for moments at a time. They are trapped, creating jails for each other while always laying the blame on the other. I talked to them both separately. I wanted to talk to them for years.
How long do you hold onto something for the sake of it? How long can you keep going? When do couples become immobile? You both produce the space you traverse with every move (which is one of the most impressive components of being in love and being with someone but also a harbinger of much pain). There’s no going back, there’s only going over. Once you’ve made those decisions, you can’t take them back, they have been actualized and are part of the narrative. Is that how you become immobile? You don’t want to walk over the same trajectory that holds all those experiences you regret, you wish never happened, you resent yourself or the other for bringing into the relationship? Do you become immobile because you cannot make a move without pain? And then, what? You gain mobility of the organs through affairs? How many lips must come across yours to ostensibly make you forget about the intensity of the love that used to be between both of you – the apex. There’s no denying the life changing, mountain moving desire you both had for each other – the gaze penetrating every body part at every moment. But what happens when the mountains were moved and you found a way to move that was not the same as theirs, and simultaneously, they didn’t notice you didn’t follow them on the path they took either. Then you both turn around and see each other so small in the distance, unable to make out the details.
Except by now you’ve learned to lie to each other so well that each of you believe the lies and keep on moving while immobilized, creating vast friction. By now, you probably don’t even realize that the movements of your lips are lies, and you just take them as the way things are.
MUSIC: Ive Mendes ; Apice MP3 & Ive Mendes ; Be With Me Tonight MP3
May 13th, 2012 § § permalink
The summer has started in Montréal, at least for me. I came back from Europe last week, and the unrelenting European rain chased me back to the city, but the rain needs to nourish us all before the sun can have its way. I accept their moves. This morning I woke up, happy to have a mom that loves me, and that has never even yelled at me before. She’s had it tough, really tough, tougher than I can ever write about in a public space. I guess all moms have it tough in one way or another. I mean, just the thought of opening up your body to support a living human being inside you doesn’t cease to amaze me. The act of holding onto a life other than your own, and then splitting your body open to let it out into the world is just… WOW! RIGHT?! I hope I can have a child or two or three someday and then maybe my children can love me and depend on me, then grow up, take me for granted and make me feel useless, until they grow a bit more and need me again. <3
So anyway… I grabbed my mobile as soon as I opened my eyes, still in bed cuddling with my cats, gushing, “YOU’RE MY MOM! MY MOM! I AM YOURS!” She laughed, and calmed me with her zen-like voice, the one she uses when she’s teaching pilates or IMT (integrated movement therapy).
Then, I noticed that it was FaltyDL’s birthday today, and he shared with the world, a beautiful track, just the type of track you hope to come across on a sunny sunday mother’s day. Listen to it, I promise, you’ll keep it on repeat. It kept me company all morning until I rode my bike across town to Parc Lafontaine where we suntanned and talked about being grad students and how lame and counter-productive the notion of “publish or perish” is, but how much it guides so many young academics, us included. Most certainly, I’d rather talk about all things great, like the rose of Gertrude Stein.
I took photos of myself to remember the first day of summer. Happy Cat.
*the title quote is from a short story by Miranda July.
February 11th, 2012 § § permalink
Chantal Goya moments. Full of youthful love. Except I don’t think I would ever date a guy like Paul. Ok, maybe I’d sleep with him but I wouldn’t let him spend the night, even in the coldest of winters. Not even after he confesses to being in love with me, sitting on my bed cross-legged while we listen to Nouvelle Vague covers. I’d write him love poems using other people’s words, and say things like, “The world is full of paper. Write to me.”
MP3: Nouvelle Vague – In a Manner of Speaking