brenden undefined

LONDON - Catching Up

2011-01-25T05:42:00.000-08:00

Note: I will add more pictures to this post soon

Hello

Arrived in London. Somehow I was convinced that I would never get here. This idea entered my mind well before my first plane took off. The idea of me in London seemed like a daydream. Something I might wish for, but only on a whim. It was on my second plane (when I hit turbulence nearing England) that I was reminded that I could not and would not ever actually be there, and it almost came as a relief. To crash and burn so close to my destination. Like other great overachievers, I had stretched out my hand and hopes too far. To die reaching for the sky, for greatness, for something more than just what I've been given. I like the idea. Unfortunately, the turbulence passed and we landed safely.

January 7, 2011

Visiting the tower of London. It is a wet day. Castle and cobblestones glisten. London feels as if it’s in a cloud bubble. There is layer upon layer of cloud, sometimes you can see the lower faster moving ones passing by, but above them it is only gray, no sky or world outside of this one. Occasionally the sun creates a light spot, giving a slight change of hue to what is normally an untainted light-charcoal-gray dome. The tower of London is impressive. It stands as a regal relic of keepsake and tradition. The stones are ancient, and so should be the traditions. Yet the stones remain, and so too the traditions. The royal jewels are stored here. Huge massive diamonds are inlayed in silver and gold. Crowns, scepters, even silverware. What are they for? Exaltation? Ceremony? A few moments of purpose followed by years behind glass. We see them there, reflecting the lights made to illuminate their greatness. They are greater than us. The queen is greater than us. We cannot touch them. They tower over us like the glistening stones of the structure that houses them. This is wrong. No one is greater than I, than you, than the middle-class Brazilian family standing next to me in line. Why should I feel grateful that the royal family, in all their greatness, condescend to show me their stones. I want to break the glass case. To throw the stones in the river and melt the metal down, cast it into thousands of rings and marry the world to a new tradition, or to no tradition at all. Is this the American inside of me? I come from a land with little history and even littler tradition. A land that says, you are your own king, you make your own crown.

January 12, 2011

Visited Salisbury cathedral, Stonehenge, and Bath. Excellence in location; all three places. I have a sore throat/cough and my pilgrimage to Bath treads on the very same road fellow ailed pilgrims have traveled for centuries. My dreams are also the same as theirs: to touch the water and be healed by some magical unseen spring of hope. The tour was a little boring. I rushed through all the preliminary exhibitions and display cases so I could finally get to the water. When I did, I quickly dipped the pointer finger on my left hand into the spring’s water, ignoring the pleas of the waters keepers asking us not too. How could I not? I yearned for healing. My throat throbbed with an unbearable pain that modern medicine was powerless to heal. The water could though, and I knew it, I believed it with ever fiber of my sickly being. As my fingertip touched the magical water’s warm surface, I felt a surge of life giving energy pass through me. I felt powerful! like the stalwart pillars of the bath’s walls, I could do anything and last forever. This was better than any drug, and suddenly I knew just touching it wouldn’t be enough…I needed to drink it. It needed to become a part of me if I wanted this healing high to last. Unfortunately however, the sacred waters are well guarded and no opportunity to drink of them presented itself during the tour. Discouraged, I made my way through the exit and into the gift shop. In the gift shop, my prayers were answered. I found a bottle of Bath water for sale, only 4 pounds! I bought it immediately. After eating a delicious steak pasty with everyone, huddled and standing inside because of the rain, we went into Marks and Spencer to sit down and the girls got some tea. At the table I unwrapped my Bath water, and after finally getting the cork out, I drank to my health.

January 22, 2011

York, Preston, and Liverpool.

York is like a little medieval village. Quaint narrow alleys with shops that seem to lean over the street, making it feel like walking through an arch of architecture. The cobblestone paths weave their way through the small city, they feel as if they were designed with no direction in mind, their curves and winds are arbitrary and inspired. It feels good not to walk in a straight line, but to be guided along, not knowing which way I will turn next. The cathedral here is breathtaking. It is medieval, and in the religious fashion so common to that time, its large arching spires force my eyes to heaven, whether or not I want them to go there.

Preston has a lot of history. It is not very large and has a distinct rural feel. Despite our tour guides attempts to win us over with fact and story, the sunset had our full attention. It was unbelievable. It was as if the sun was returning from the thousand years sleep of the dim gray day. Its warm effervescent beams caressed the earth, illuminating, creating art as it painted pictures of this world of Preston, scenes and colors the town had never seen before.

Liverpool was more modern. A young city, perhaps not always young, but the young had made it that way. It is foggy and cold. The fog is thick, I can see it rolling off the waters and invading the city. A slow unstoppable force that flows between the buildings, filling in open spaces, making everything feel close and immediate. It feels claustrophobic. It presses on me, wraps me up in its cold arms and squeezes. I breath it in, the fog is so thick that I can feel it moving through my throat and into my lungs. I fight it there, my lungs warm the air, the foreign fog disappears and as I breath out, I create my own fog. The night is still early, so the streets of Liverpool are filled with all ages. Middle ages walk in pairs of opposite sex. They take quick steps and walk in stride. They are out to eat, to talk, and then to return home. The old are slower. Their time is day, and when the gloaming begins, like coupled birds to their nests, they prefer roosting to the dangers of night. Only a few old are seen, but only for a moment. As quickly as they can, they leave the city buildings for the safety and warmth of a cab. It is the young that rule the night. They travel in packs. Loud unorganized masses made of individual pieces that cannot and will not function independently. They are hoodlums. Hormone driven hooligans that want to laugh and dance and drink. Music is their lifeblood. It is as important to them as the foggy Liverpool air they breath. Without it they would starve. And they did in the past, the time before The Beatles - those gods of music - changed this city forever. They fed the hungry masses. Their sermons were more powerful than words, they were music. They spoke to an entire generation, and that generation listened with eager hungry ears. They had been waiting for a savior. They had been cooped up in their homes, electrons revolving around the nuclear family, powerless to leave their path. Rock and roll electrified them. It shook them from their orbit and propelled them into the world, free to bounce around, absorb and be absorbed. The youth took the world by storm and it would never be the same. Liverpool was the base and The Beatles were the catalyst. The biggest atomic bomb to ever go off, the chemical reaction started small, exploded quickly, and then filled the world with a radioactive cloud of radio waves. Liverpool is ground zero and I am here, examining the leftover pieces like a forensic scientist, just trying to understand.

things that i like

2009-10-14T00:04:00.000-07:00

coke

reading

doing this

Wizard Dreams

2009-09-30T00:53:00.000-07:00

I’m pretty sure the corndogs I bought at the creamery and ate for dinner poisoned me. I had a terrible stomach ache, the kind where you just lay there on your side hugging yourself.

I tried to read for awhile, Sophie's World, a book about philosophy and a little girl who is learning all about it from an older man mentor figure. It’s really good actually and I’m currently learning all about philosophy during the renaissance. Anyways, between the stomach pain and lack of sleep last night I ended up falling asleep for awhile. I dreamed that I was in some intense situation in which I need to solve some kind of puzzle and there was this wizard helping me do it; by like giving me clues and stuff. He was a philosopher wizard, a very religious one wearing a large gold crucifix; he kept making me question reality and such. He was even wearing a pointy blue wizard hat (sad my subconscious is so cliché).

That’s about all I can remember from the dream, I just remember waking up with a feeling of urgency, that there was something pressing I had to figure out, and now.

Still lying down, I noticed a few pieces of paper on a chair a few feet away. Right before I had fallen asleep I grabbed a blanket off of that chair and must have uncovered the paper without noticing it. I investigated and found the weirdest things drawn in blue ink on three pieces of lined notebook paper.

One sheet had words mixed in with other shapes that I couldn’t really make out. I did find the words “HELLO” and “SKY” however.

Another sheet had a sketch of a man with no face, but I got the impression it was Jesus.

The third sheet had scribbling in the center with the word “Disorder” written above it and other bubble letters on the bottom I couldn’t make out.

I’m pretty sure that right after I had woken up, for the 5 minutes I was investigating those sheets of paper, I was convinced the wizard from my dream had left them for me; pieces to the puzzle! Two minutes later it dawned on me that my brother who had stayed with me for the weekend must have left them, and after asking him, I learned he had. I had to laugh, I had really thought someone (my wizard, see right) had snuck in my room and left them on the chair while I was sleeping. If only!

This experience reminded me of being a kid and having that ability to sincerely believe the completely untrue things people tell you or the things you make up in your mind. Like santa clause, imaginary friends, or the bridge to terabithia.

My stomach still pained so I filled up the bath tub and turned on In Rainbows, by Radiohead. I took like an hour in the bath, listening to the entire album.

In Rainbows is one of my favorite albums, it’s beautiful. Every time I listen to it, it’s like I’m somehow rehearing it for the first time. There is always something new to discover. What a masterpiece. 4 minute warning, the last song, just amazed me. I think when the album ended I must have replayed that song three or four times. His voice is so pure; it carries the music, like a lullaby. Sing me to sleep Thom.

Provo Farmers Market

2009-09-05T10:38:00.001-07:00

Today I went to the Provo Farmers Market for my internship working with the BYU Library and the Utah Heratage Project on a project called "By the Sweat of Their Brow" to research the history of agriculture here in Utah Valley. I met up with a girl named Kelly who is working on a similar project and we walked around the market talking to produce providers and getting contacts. Here are a few of the people we talked to.

mom and daughter

Joseph

Allan

An 8am Discovery

2009-09-04T09:03:00.000-07:00

I made a discovery this morning. Taylor Swift is really Joan Rivers. I think we all need to take a step back and just sit in awe at the marvels of modern plastic surgery.

brenden catching up

2009-06-30T23:31:00.000-07:00

ahh ive been bad. summer came and i neglected my blog and forgot how to write. i didnt forget how to read though. here are some of my recent reads...

I started the summer off with some light reading. I reread the Twilight series. I read the books before I saw the Twilight movie and since then, when i think of Bella, i see Kristen. My crush on Kristen Stewart inspired a rereading of the series with her replacing the previously cast Bella in my mind.

It's always a sad time when a movie character replaces the one you had invented on your own when reading the book for the first time, but in this instance I didnt mind so much. I get butterflies in my stomach when Kristen nervously bites her bottom lip so i threw that image in quite often while I read.

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Next I finished The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I had read the novel in highschool and im not sure what inspired me to revisit it, but Im glad I did. It was fun to spend some time in the "roaring" twenties with Nick, Jay, and Daisy. Part of the reading experience for me is relating to the story and its characters, and in The Great Gatsby I find myself drawn to Nick. He is a quiet observer who knows each character intimately simply because he cares enough to watch and pay attention. He is the confidant and friend that isnt always in the limelight, he shys away from it actually, but is always there to catch the stars when they fall.

Ive made it a new habit to watch any movies I can find that were made based on the books I read. I found a 1974 version of The Great Gatsby starring Robert Redford and Mia Farrow that was just great. I appreciate it when a movie stays as true as it can to the book and this one did a fine job. It did lose a little bit of the magic and heart that the novel houses, but Daisys character, Mia Farrow, made up for any losses. On a side note, it was hard to get over the idea of her being the same actress in Rosemarys Baby, such a creepy movie. I was half expecting some supernatural devil spawn to spring out of a corner of the screen to attack her.

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The next book I ventured to read was Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. From the beginning of the work this instintantly became one of my favorites. I followed the life and adventures of an endearing young protagonist named Pip. In a classic Dickens-style heartwarming tale of a rise from rags to riches, I was right along Pips side, falling in love with the heartless Estella, becoming a gentleman and gaining a hope of someday winning her affection, and having my heart broken. This novel is a masterpiece and one I energetically reccomend to others.

I found quite a few film versions of Great Expectations and was excited to watch them all. I started with the most recent, a modern adaptation made sometime in the 90's starring Ethan Hawke and Gweneth Paltrow, and was so dissatisfied that I almost didnt finish. It strayed so far from the storyline that it lost all of the power of its messsage and heart. Dickens must have been turnng in his grave upon the latters release, pulling out whatever hair he had left. My favorite version of the movie however was made in 1946 and, of course, it stayed true to the storyline and dialogue of the book. The acting was somewhat dry, but the message was as emotionally potent as ever.

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A Clockwork Orange was my next read. What a mindfull that was. I dont reccomend this one to the faint of heart as the subject matter is entirely saturated with violence and an evil minded narrator. It was a lot of fun to read because it was written in semi-old english with a lot of made-up vocabulary words that the author used in proxy of many common ones. The narrator Alex speaks in "nadsat" which is the common slang of the teenagers of the future.

An example:
"to tolchock some old veck in an alley and viddy him swim in his blood."
meaning "to kick some old man in an alley and watch him swim in his own blood"

Fun right?
I have a thing for utopian or anti-utopian novels (such as Brave New World, 1984, The Giver) and this one threw me off being dystopian. Depicting a future not even trying to be perfect but simply housing chaos and disorder. The trick to the novel was that amidst all of this "ultra-violence" and mayhem that would normally be read or observed with unease, through the narrators nonchalant and hopelessly guiltless view, many of the most vulgar scenes are underlined with a sense of humor that make the reader question their moral scruples. Alex is a gang leader that commits horrid crimes, is eventuall inprisoned, and introced to a new technique that will supposedly cure him of his michevious ways. Agency is a common moral dillema towards the end of the novel as well as the nature of man.

The movie Clockwork Orange, fittingly made in the 1970s with its crazy set design and fanciful and futuristic feel was every bit as obscene and unsettling as the novel. I would only reccomend the movie to serious buffs or fans of the book. __________________________________________________

This has been a long post, but I only have one more book to catch up on. Just tonight I finished Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. What an unusual gem this was. The book (and not to mention almost every character within its pages) had relatively no reediming qualities. What a sloppy mess of tangled love stories it turned out to be; if you can even call them love stories. I loved this book for that very reason though. Heathclif is now one of my favorite literary fiends. The story revlolves around Heathclif and his love for Cathy, who marrys another and dies. The rest of the novel painfully describes how he proceeds to ruin every single life within his power to corrupt. He skillyfully remains soulless until the end, never repenting and caring for no one but his departed love. I was impressed with his ability to feel absolutely no compassion for anyone, as most stories include some kind of a reformation or at least a transformation in the slightest of the protagonist, but Heathcliff, like the ancient walls of Wuthering Heights themselves, remained unmoved until the end. Probably the most insane and untraditional love story I have ever encountered, with only the slightest residue of a silver lining, I gladly count this novel as another one of my favorites.

So far the movies I have found are a Masterpiece Theatre's production made in 2009 that is 3 hours long. The story was very distorted and the characters were far too likeable to ever reccomend this production of the classic. I have yet to watch the 1939 version, but I can already assume I will like it better.

Says Heathclif upon Cathys death,

"I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!"

Petrarchan Love

2009-04-24T21:29:00.000-07:00

One day in class my professor used a term to describe a type of love, “Petrarchan.”

Have you ever “fallen in love” with someone you can never have?

Maybe it was a crush on the popular boy or girl in your high school or maybe it’s an obsession with a celebrity that goes beyond fandom, in any case, we have all probably felt that kind of love before. An infatuation with a person that is more than perfect, they are every fantasy you have ever have personified and walking the earth.

I researched the term “Petrarchan” and discovered it is derived from a fourteenth century poet named Francesco Petrarch. This man is amazing.

Petrarch

Petrarch lived in the early fourteenth century and had a passion for literature. His father wanted him to become a lawyer, but Petrarch felt that the legal profession was “selling justice” and refused to practice. Instead he became a priest in the catholic church and spent his days reading and writing literature. He was not allowed to marry and never fell in love during his time as a priest.

This is where the story gets good…

After leaving his profession as a priest he was in the church on Good Friday, it was a beautiful spring day and he was 23. In church, he saw a 17 year old girl named Laura; it was love at first sight. She was already married to an older man and refused Petrarch because of that, but did that stop his love? Absolutely not.

Laura became the inspiration for one of Petrarch’s greatest works, a collection of 366 poems called Il Canzoniere. Here is an exceprt about the day he first laid eyes on her…

It was on that day when the sun's ray
was darkened in pity for its Maker,
that I was captured, and did not defend myself,
because your lovely eyes had bound me, Lady.

It did not seem to me to be a time to guard myself
against Love's blows: so I went on
confident, unsuspecting; from that, my troubles
started, amongst the public sorrows.

Love discovered me all weaponless,
and opened the way to the heart through the eyes,
which are made the passageways and doors of tears:

so that it seems to me it does him little honour
to wound me with his arrow, in that state,
he not showing his bow at all to you who are armed.

Imagine a love so intense and real that the idea of that person alone inspires hundreds of poems. Petrarch’s love for Laura was unceasing and although it brought great inspiration, it caused him even greater agony. He had contempt for men who persused women and wrote poems exclaiming Laura’s beauty and magnificence rather than love poems to woo her to him. Petrarch put Laura on a pedestal and glorified her name with his writing. He loved her unconditionally and that love was real, even though he was never able to have her.

Petrarch loved Laura until the day she died. She died at the age of 38, meaning Petrarch loved her for 21 years. Upon her death he experienced extreme grief and never loved again.

That is Petrarchan love.

Petrarch wasn’t and isn’t alone. My professor used “petrarchan” love to describe the feelings of many modernist writers, Matthew Arnold being my favorite. The poor guy fell in love with a girl that didn’t love him back…

We were apart; yet, day by day,
I bade my heart more constant be.
I bade it keep the world away,
And grow a home for only thee;
Nor fear'd but thy love likewise grew,
Like mine, each day, more tried, more true.

The fault was grave! I might have known,
What far too soon, alas! I learn'd--
The heart can bind itself alone,
And faith may oft be unreturn'd.
Self-sway'd our feelings ebb and swell--
Thou lov'st no more;--Farewell! Farewell!

Arnold struggled with isolation and quite naturally a woman occupied his thoughts. Unlike Petrarch however, many of the modernist authors did not embrace their unrequited love, but bemoaned their loneliness and complained about their circumstances.

In our day we are no different than Petrarch or Arnold. Whether we like to admit it or not we all fall in love. We have to fall in love. In many ways Arnold mirrored the attitude of John Donne’s idea that, “no man is an island entire of itself.” As hard as we try to tell ourselves otherwise, we can’t, and don’t want to be alone. It helps to know that through the ages, people have felt just like we do.

So the next time you fall in love with a cute boy or girl you always see in the library, don’t feel so bad facebook stalking them, Petrarch or Arnold would do the same.

The Sorrows of Young Werther

2009-04-23T16:40:00.000-07:00

In English class I heard a story that I fell in love with.

A book titled, “The Sorrows of Young Werther” by Goethe is a semi-autobiographical account of a young romantic man who is known for boldly wearing a yellow waist coast with his blue jacket. The book is a fictional collection of letters written from the main character Werther to his friend Wilhelm.

The letters recount Werthers infatuation and love for a girl his age named Charlotte who is engaged to a much older man. Werther does his best to be friends with Charlotte and her fiancé but is so pained by her presence and circumstance that he decides to leave. Eventually his love for Charlotte and inability to be with her brings so much anguish that he decides one of the three, himself, Charlotte, or her fiancé, must die. Unable and unwilling to murder, he decides it is himself that must die and in a memorable and dramatic act, shoots himself in the head, leaving behind a farewell letter. His deep unfailing love for someone who he could not have drove Werther to suicide. He would rather die than live in a world with out his love. What a “romantic” idea.

This work by Goethe is undoubtedly the beginning of what some would jokingly call EMO. However, its story and character are powerful enough that it provides fuel for works across the ages with a rage of titles anywhere from Romeo and Juliet to Catcher in the Rye. The poignant story of a young person trapped in his or her feelings, so introverted and able to feel, so sensitive to their environment, that they wince when touched emotionally. The light at the end of their tunnel is either too far in the distance to ever reach or something they completely don’t understand, and instead of seeking to decipher anything at all, they plow forward, unsure of the direction, but onward into the light. Goethe was a genius, not for his ability to write a piece like this, but for his unabashed honesty and the genuine heart of the novel that pumps real life, feelings, and experience into the story.

Werthers have and always will exist. They are the best and worst in all of us. They are what make us human. The ability to love - not only the ability, but the choice to love - even when that love is unrequited. The foolish decisions made in moments of passion are what define some of the biggest events mankind will ever know. Its almost no wonder Werther was driven to suicide, these paramount feelings and thoughts, metaphorically as big as mountains, the same mountains that the world carries on its shoulders, are all raging with life and intensity inside a young boy.

Imagine 20 stray cats crammed into a burlap sack that is tied shut. The noise. The movement. The desperate clawing and howling of 20 enraged cats. Imagine Werthers emotional insides. Imagine how torn he felt. Ripped to pieces by relentless thoughts and feelings. Charlotte alone holds the scissors, the way out.

Romantics

2009-04-22T19:48:00.000-07:00

Oh to be a romantic. Studying the romantic period in English this year has been one of the most interesting topics I have covered in college this far. Conventionally, the word “Romantic” in our time has a connotation associated with love or passion. “Romantic” novels fill bookstore shelves covered in pictures of a half naked Fabio seducing some emotionally distressed damsel. A romantic night usually entails candles, cuddling, and copious lovemaking. These modern definitions of “Romantic” are far from the original meaning of the word.

I began to understand the meaning of Romanticism through another word, rebellion. The age of enlightenment began somewhere around the beginning of the eighteenth century. I studied into this period to better understand the circumstances that gave rise to the romantics. This period essentially focused on the use of reason as a form of intelligence and authority giving rise to common sense (liberty, natural laws, and inherent rights). This was a drastic change from the time of kings and aristocrats who based their authority on their title and the intelligence and knowledge was reserved to a small percent of the people, keeping them in power. The period of enlightenment dominated the first half of the eighteenth century eventually giving birth the romantics mid eighteenth century.

Romantics were figuratively like new borns in the society they lived in. They valued innocence, youth, asthetic experience, emotion, and sought out the spiritual or unseen truths. The values and mindset of the romantics were drastically different from those of the enlightened period. Many fresh new romantics sported colored wigs (opposed to the white powdered ones of the time) and were proud of their youthfulness. It had been a commonplace in that time for youth to be frowned upon and age was associated with intelligence, position, and power. Romantics changed that paradigm.

some of my favorite things

2009-02-13T01:21:00.000-08:00

This is Vladimir, my potted vine.
He has more leaves in real life, I just got tired of drawing them.

This is Red Bull, it vitalizes body and mind.
I have three empty cans sitting on my desk, two rolling around on the floor of my car, and nine more to go in the fridge.

This is Nathan, my best friend and roomate.
He is up doing homework at 3:30 in the morning listening to Ratatat.

These are black Vans, my favorite shoes.
Size thirteen, dirty white souls, holes and tears.

LOVE New York

2008-12-09T22:04:00.000-08:00

all you need is love...
thats Johnny Greenwood (radiohead) with his kids inbetween the V and E
we followed him for two blocks before I took this picture
what can i say, im a "creep"

I Heard a Rumor that You Quit this Day & Age

2008-11-25T16:19:00.000-08:00

Considering that The Killers are my favorite band and in return I am their biggest fan, I thought it appropriate to dedicate this post to their new album Day&Age released November 24.
First of all, I cant say if the CD is their best so far; every one of their albums has such a different sound. This is however by far one of the best albums of 2008. It has a soul searching, 80's reminiscent, poppy sound that you can dance to while thinking about lifes greatest questions, you cant ask for more than that. In an attempt to become the next U2, the killers have made a record that can easily be labeled "epic."
Here is a track-by-track overview of the album:
_

Losing Touch
David Bowie couldnt have made this song better himself. A great intro into the CD with its energetic saxaphones and an amazing guitar preformance by Dave Keuning.
"But you made your way back home.You sold your soul, like a Roman vagabond yeah"

Human
80's new wave was never sweeter. This song is phenomenal. Great dance song that will be around for ever. One of the more soul searching tracks on the album, Brandon Flowers sings,

"And i'm on my knees looking for the answer. Are we human or are we (dancers or denser)?"

There is still debate on whether or not the word is dancers or denser. Either way, this song is one of the best on the album.

Spaceman
Cant help but think of Bowies "Space Oddity" listening to this song. Its a fun upbeat song that has a chorus that is fun to sing along with and rock out to. Amazing drums keep the song energetic while the base keeps your toe tapping. Another one of the best of the album.
"The song maker says, "It ain't so bad." The dream maker's going make you mad; The spaceman says, 'Everybody look down! Its all in your mind!'"

Joy Ride
A spunky song with a base that you can almost salsa dance to. Has a Las Vegasy/SouthWesterny sound that makes you want to just hop in your car and "Joy Ride."
"When your chips are down, When your highs are low. Joyride. Move across the night, Like a seperate wind"
_

A Dustland Fairytale
A beautiful narritave with a climax that makes your chest swell. Brings us back to the sound of their second album Sam's Town with its dusty young girl in a small town feel. Flowers does a great job showing he can back his deep lyrics with a strong penatating voice.

"Saw cinderella in a party dress, but She was looking for a night gown. I saw the devil warping up his hands. Hes getting ready for the show down."
_

This is Your Life
A pretty song with both tribal chanting and a harpischord, odd i know, but it works and creats a mesmorizing song with a unique beat that cant be beat.
"And the sky is full of dreams, But you don't know how to fly. I don't have a simple answer, But I know that I could answer...Something better"

I Can't Stay
Another one of my favorite songs. A Carribian sounding beat that you can groove to. Its a relaxing song with its delicious combination of steel drums, harp, sax, and acoustic guitar. Mmmmm enjoy it.
"In the dark, for a while now. I can't stay, so far. I can't stay, much longer. Riding my decision home"

Neon Tiger
One of the slower and less complex songs, it has a great message as it gently rises into a noisy climax that gets you rooting for the freedom of that fugitive neon tiger.
"But neon tiger there's a lot on your mind. They promised just to pet you, but don't you let them get you. Away, away, away. Under the neon southwest sun"
_

The World We Live In
Another soul searching serenade by Flowers. Its fun to listen to but doesnt quite have that catchy pull most of the other tracks do, its definitely easy listening. Good driving song.

"This is the world that we live in. I can't take blame for two. This is the world that we live in. And maybe we'll make it through"

Goodnight, Travel Well

Perfect song to end the album with. It slowly lulls you into a coma of deep lyrics and crashing cymbals. Seven minutes of close your eyes, nod your heat to the beat, and absorb the beautiful music and message as the curtain closes on another amazing Killers album.

"And all that stands between the souls release. This temporary flesh and bone. We know that it's over now. I feel my faded mind begin to roam"
"goodnight, travel well.

goodnight, travel well.

and there's nothing I can say

there's nothing I can do now"

brenden in a basement

2008-11-23T15:22:00.000-08:00

Sitting in a basement with my hood on, thinking. Saw twilight last night, lets just say the book is better. Edward looked more like an alien than a vampire.
Current book: “The Kite Runner” - its been a little slow getting into but the character development is astonishing. I'm now best friends with Amir and Hassan.

Sitting in a basement with my hood on, thinking. This semester has flown by. Next week everyone leaves for home and I'm holding down the fort with Moh my Malian roommate and bff. He asked if we would have a thanksgiving of our own. Last night we were watching UFC and Moh got all this energy and put my boxing gloves on and

started harassing Nathan while he was taking out his contacts. Moh looked at me and whispered something, then quietly gestured that he was going to punch Nathan. He pretended to gather all his strength and punch him in the back of the head. He thought he was pretty funny as he swung and missed Nate’s head on purpose. Then he did a few kick moves and shadow boxed for a little and came back and said “oy! Brhunden” (that’s how he pronounces my name) and he gestured like he was going to punch Nathan in the back of the head again. He got in position and looked like he was about to throw the hardest punch of his life, then when he swung, instead of missing like he had intended, he landed the punch square in the back of Nates head causing him to jerk forward, yelling, “what the heck moh!? That kind of crap isn’t funny!” ... haha ... I tried so hard not to laugh, nate was fuming. I saw it a good opportunity to teach Moh a new word, “accident,” and he apologized to Nathan using it. Good times.

Music to listen to: the killers new album "Day & Age" and Tisbury Lane by Mae

brenden inspired

2008-11-20T11:10:00.000-08:00

due to recent events inspiration has forced itself upon me. blog blog blog blog.
d'you know that inspiration comes from a greek word (inspirar) that means "to breath life into" my first sentence roughly retranslated would be something to the effect, due to recent events I have forcefully had the life blown into me. hmm thats funny. anyhow, its 12:15 p.m. and I just woke up. I have fifteen to sixteen more pages for english to write that need to be turned in later tonight in class at 5:00. Oy vey.
"Its college!"
yesterdays highlights were moh homework, apple pie, and atonement. love new friends.

New York New York - first day

2008-08-07T09:27:00.000-07:00

I sat next to an orthodox Jew on the subway.

Reading hebrew.

Went our for 16 dollar pizza.

Jon, Ellen, Olive, Josh

2008-08-04T20:20:00.000-07:00

Packing for New York!

This morning. Woke up at a house not my own. Ate eggo waffles. Went swimming with a girl. Played with two big black dogs. Watched "In the land of women" or something like that. It had adrian brody in it. I really liked it for some reason. Probably because i identified with poor poor brody. Old friend Jim called me and woke me up this morning, were going to hang when i get back, im having my mom send me my warhammer set so I can battle him royal. Ravenwing (dark angels) for life!

Anyways, im way excited for NY. Plenty of pictures to come.

Raccoon Eyes

2008-07-20T04:09:00.000-07:00

Fear and loathing in las vegas was nothing short of stupid. The dark knight was one of the best movies I have seen in a long time however. The IMAX experience intensified the memory for me. Josh threw a party and everyone came dressed as their spirit animal. Apparently mine was a raccoon. My hair is so short now I look like i'm in the army and just got back from my second tour in Iraq. Music to listen to M.I.A., the song with the gun shots in it.

Pied piping. Followers of an uncouth tune.

2008-07-20T03:19:00.000-07:00

People leading people. Being people. Becoming other people. Chasing tails, but never their own.

Life seems to be a game of self discovery yet all too often we find ourselves playing not to win, but to come in a close second to the anticipated winner we have placed all bets on. Who wants to come in first place if it means finishing alone? There is no map for the trail blazer. Precedence precedes personality it sadly seems.

The pied piper plays on.

The tune rings clearly in their ears and like clockwork their eager little hands work tirelessly to keep up appearances. Like children asked to copy a pattern or color with in the lines. No one knows no one, they all know someone, but do they know them selves? Imitation... the sincerest form of flattery. Will no one flatter themselves?

The pied piper plays on.

Love your neighbor as you love yourself. Good luck loving your neighbor when you don't love yourself. There is a necessary progression. An evolution. Like crawling to walking. You cant write until you can read, but that doesn't mean you have to write what you read. Yet how often do we wait to write until we have read what others have written?

The pied piper plays on.