The Telepathic Unicycle

I started playing the guitar in an 8th grade elective class called - what else, but “Guitar I.” And it was after this initiation into the School of Rock, that I began to methodically deny anything that was sin guitara. Any song that didn’t have a guitar was absolutely not worth listening to. (This is how the typical 12-year-old white boy’s mind worked in mid-1980’s suburban Florida.) And I had a very nice mullet to go with this conviction.

But in hindsight, that was an important and necessary fog that I had to navigate because it resulted in my proficiency in playing the stereotypical AC/DC, Tesla, Guns-n-Roses, Zepplin, Boston…you know, straight-up “dirt rock.”

Obviously, I grew out of that stage and eventually became the connoisseur of musical taste that I am today. But, you should know that before I was into all that stuff, I listened to what most people listened to at the time: Top 40. Sure, I favored Asia, America, and Hall and Oats (despite them not being a country or a continent) but they were all no doubt, very accessible, dare I say “dancable” popular, top 40.

I say all of this to excuse…no, to explain what you are about to hear…because every Friday night,  I’d go skating. No, not skateboarding, SKATING. As in roller skating. 4 wheels per foot. And I LOVED rolling around the rink to this song.

I now present the audio version of the answer to the following equation:

nostalgia  +  garageband  -  most of the song  x  28 mins of my life gone = holy crap

While the band had a healthy afternoon out, I stayed at home, fluish, playing with home videos.
But, I’m quite proud of the result.

There is a house built out of stone
Wooden floors, walls and window sills
Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust
This is a place where I don’t feel alone
This is a place where i feel at home

And I built a home
For you
For me

Until it disappeared
From me
From you
And now, it’s time to leave and turn to dust

Out in the garden where we planted the seeds
There is a tree as old as me
Branches were sewn by the color of green
Ground had arose and passed it’s knees

By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top
Find More lyrics at www.sweetslyrics.com
I climbed the tree to see the world
When the gusts came around to blow me down
I held on as tightly as you held onto me
I held on as tightly as you held onto me

And I built a home
For you
For me

Until it disappeared
From me
From you

And now, it’s time to leave and turn to dust
-The Cinematic Orchestra

More from my favorite new pastime: browsing the amazing body of work that exists on VIMEO.

As some of you may know from recent comically reactionary comments on my friend Dave’s blog, one of my degrees is in Fine Arts. Photography and “Avant Garde” Film to be exact. And in producing and analyzing many works in college, one reoccurring visual theme in both my work and in films that piqued my interest, was the use of mirrors and reflection. So as you might imagine, I love this piece.

If I can manage to find a way to transfer my films to video without damaging them, I’ll eventually post some of my own work from college. But until then, if this type of visual playfulness interests you, and you in the mood for some very layered and complicated stream of consciousness Russian cinema that toys with memory and forgetting, and loss and nostalgia, and a little wartime Russian politics thrown in for good measure…check out Tarkovsky’s Mirror…readily available on Netflix and at your local video store.

In the meantime, for a “shallower” version of similar themes, take a gander at this:

A portrait of the man in multiple pictures.

Pretty much sums it up.

So I am very impressed with this video.

I have acquired very similar footage of very similar sites in my travels in India, so there is a strong sense of familiarity for me in this clip.

I think this piece is exquisite. It’s very well edited and shot with a “from-the-hip” asthetic that is also pleasantly familiar and universal.

(My wife constantly makes fun of me when I like a piece of music of a movie or whatever and I say, “wow, this is really *nice*.” “NICE?,” she says, “you consider yourself creative and all you can come up with is *nice*?”)

So there you go. Exquisite. How’s that?

By the way, if you thought the monkeys were Jewish, you are not alone.

Much like the Swastika, the six-pointed star is a very common symbol in Hindu and Buddhist temples and scripture and in some ways, equally as confusing for obvious reasons.

Anyway, I don’t know about you, but this makes me want to edit something “nice.”

I know what you’re thinking…hence the title of this blog…no but really, you’re thinking that I’m never going to get to the “world music in my basement” project. Yeah, you’re probably right. NO! No you’re not. Ahem…Anyway, here is yet another track from recent ancient history:

So this is a lot longer than the stuff I typically post. Not sure why I recorded it so long. I think I was going for that background soundtrack kinda feel. Again, it’s me playing a heavily “effected” guitar to a lengthy drum beat I composed on my SR-16. If you are resilient enough to get to the end, you may notice that the ending beat is the inspirattion for the music in the “Punk Sorry White Boy” post.

It is not for the ADD set as it seems to go on forever…that is until it gets close to the end where it kicks into a sort of trip-hop crazybeat. Yes, like the 4 Roosevelt Street post from a little while back, this was from 1997(ish) when I was listening to a lot of Underworld and moping about my college raver girlfriend leaving New York and going back to Tampa.

Little did I know that I would meet my eventual wife soon…I love you sweetie.

ENJOY!

Hey, I did restring my Balalaika! So maybe the world music from my basement project will start with that!

You’ll just have to wait and see. Don’t hold your breath, please.

(Seriously…don’t. I can’t be held responsible for your lack of oxygen.)

Let me know if you think “my eventual wife” is a good name for a band.

Summer Sprinkler!

Originally uploaded by shaunian

This is the second image I have entered in the Monthly “This Week in Photography” flickr challenge. Based on the other entries I have seen, I know I won’t win, but I am proud of it nonetheless. The funny thing in all of this is that neither of the 2 photos I have entered have been taken with my Nikon dslr.

This one was taken with the family point-and-shoot Canon G6. The other one “Paris Alley Door” found here was taken about 13 years ago with my Nikon FG using Poloroid b+w slide film. Talk about ancient history.

Anyway, this one was taken last summer in my front yard. I have tried to take more this year of similar subject matter, but somehow, this one is still one of my favorites.
Happy Summer!

My mother-in-law got us a clock.

It’s a really nice clock. Seems to have some trouble though, in that it sometimes forgets to chime. But when it does chime, it is very soothing. When it is between chimes, it ticks rather loudly and quickly, not unlike a kitchen timer. Anyway, I love it, and it reminds me of this piece I recorded sometime in the early nineties. (How’s that for a segue?) Probably ‘91 or ‘92. Again, a 4-track of just me using up all 4 tracks with silly guitar. This was before I “stabilized” the bridge on my Japanese Strat. Sounds like a euphemism for…anyway, I was really using my whammy bar, if you know what I mean. The ’80s synth sound is actually just me with an ebow. And it seems to invoke thoughts of a clock ticking the time away…that is until it turns into silly newageishness. Tock tick.

So I’m sure you must be tired of waiting for the eventual world music symphony generated from the stuff in my basement. I am too. So whilst I restring my sarod, sitar, balalaika, mandolin and banjo, and as I dust off my violadulcimeraccordianpedalsteelguitar, I thought it best to throw up some more auditory excrement from my 4-track days.

Occasionally, I used to record things and name them according to my address at the time. After my initial move to the New York City area in 1996, I changed addresses quite frequently, so naming “songs” after locations without running out of names proved to be easier than you might think.

4 Roosevelt Street was the address of my friend Sam’s Grandmother in Long Island and my home for the first 3 months of my life in New York. And that is where I made this. Just me playing a heavily effected guitar to a drum sequence I made on my Alesis SR-16 drum machine. This is also about the time when I learned that if I switched the line/mic input switch to the “wrong” setting, I could make the drum machine sound distorted. You can also tell that at this time I was listening to entirely too much Underworld.