Metamorphosis of a New Yorker

Freedom

"Freedom is that instant between when someone tells you to do something and when you decide how to respond."
~Dr. Jeffrey Borenstein

It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured. I realised, somehow, through the screaming in my mind, that even in that shackled, bloody helplessness, I was still free: free to hate the men who were torturing me, or to forgive them. It doesn't sound like much, I know. But in the flinch and bite of the chain, when it's all you've got, that freedom is a universe of possibility. And the choice you make, between hating and forgiving, can become the story of your life.

-Linbaba, "Shantaram"

We Have The Facts And We're Voting Yes

I thought this title appropriate for Election Day even though this post has nothing to do with voting. Rather, it is about my favorite band - Who, by the way, I will be seeing tomorrow at the Theater at Madison Square Garden! The post title is the name of Death Cab For Cutie's 2000 album release, which I have been wearing out the most these past few months.

Death Cab For Cutie: the indie band gone mainstream. Popular amongst emo-hipsters and suburbanites alike. Just a year ago they signed onto a major record label but have been killing the indie circuit since 1998. I remember receiving a mixed tape sophomore year of college given to me by a mousy young man named Ryan (my first run-in with an emo boy). He exposed me to artists that I adore the most today: Elliot Smith, Nick Drake, Bright Eyes and of course, Death Cab. I listened to "Photo Booth" and from there my love grew...

Just when I thought music was on the fast track to Pop Hell, Transatlanticism (2003) was released and changed my life. It struck me like no other album had in a long time and introduced me to related groups like The Postal Service and DNTEL (other DCFC projects).


At first listen Ben Gibbard's voice seemed too fragile interwoven with the intense melodies and bloated lyrics. But I soon realized it is altogether perfection. Their songs, often about love and loss, are full of unconventional paradoxes, unexpected personification, awkward imagery and beautiful condescension. Using a glove compartment to express regret (listen to Title and Registration) or a hospital waiting room as a vehicle for guilt (What Sarah Said) or disposable dishes to signify rejection and disservice (Styrofoam Plates). With the most unlikely analogies Death Cab shows us the logic within the most irrational of situations.

We Laugh Indoors might be my all time favorite. However, Company Calls Epilogue is currently getting the most play (I'm not sure what it's about, but it sounds damn good):

Synapse to synapse: the possibility's thin.
I'm dressed up for free drinks and family greetings
on your wedding, your wedding, your wedding date.
The figures in plastic on the wedding cake that I took were so real.

And I kept distance: the complications cloud
the postcards and blip through fiberoptics,
as the girls with pigtails were running from little boys wearing bowties
their parents bought them: "I'll catch you this time!"

Crashing through the parlor doors, what was your first reaction?
Screaming, drunk, disorderly: I'll tell you mine.
You were the one, but I can't spit it out when the date's been set.
The white routine to be ingested inaccurately.

Synapse to synapse: the sneaky kids had attached
beer cans to the bumper so they could drive
up and down the main drag.
People would turn to see who's making the racket.
It's not the first time.

When they lay down the fish will swim upstream
and I'll contest, but they won't listen
when the casualty rate's near 100%,
and there isn't a pension for second best or for hardly moving...

Crashing through the parlor doors, what was your first reaction?
Screaming, drunk, disorderly: I'll tell you mine.
You were the one, but I can't spit it out when the date's been set.
The white routine to be ingested inaccurately.

You were the one, but I can't spit it out when the date's been set.
The white routine to be ingested inaccurately.

Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder?

Hello Friends and Foes,

My absence has not been in vain, I promise that much. In fact, I have too much to write about and no time to do it! Between working, volunteering at the film festival, attending the after parties, Halloween, birthdays and dancing to 80s music, this week has been one to remember. Oh, but it's not over yet...next week's line up isn't lookin' too shabby either. Monday: Film screening. Tuesday: Dinner. Wednesday: Death Cab For Cutie concert (so psyched)! Thursday: visit from a ex and longtime friend. Friday: Sister and Bro-in-law come into town. Saturday: party, party, party. Anyone have suggestions for energy boosters? Seriously.

I arrived home around 10:30pm this Sunday night having left the IAAC Film Festival's closing night party at The Asia society on Park Ave. The Film Festival was a success in every way. I have much to report but right now I am going to put all my clothes in a pile on the couch, slip on flannel pajama bottoms and lay my head down on this chocolate colored pillow. I haven't felt this tired in quite a while - but the difference is, it's a good tired. An accomplished tired.

Sweet Dreams...