Album of the Week

Raison d'Être, The Empty Hollow Unfolds. The soundtrack to your next nightmare... literally, in my case (as described in the post below). Thank you, Peter Andersson, for creating a sublimely serene and sinister record.

DREAM THEATRE Part 4: A Cavalcade of Shorts

A selection of strange dreams culled from old journals.

The Sitter. I'm taking care of a rabbit, a cat, and a baby. I have to make sure that the rabbit doesn't leave the house, that the cat doesn't kill the rabbit or scratch out the baby's eyes, and of course that the baby's needs are taken care of. This is a recurring dream that always ends with the rabbit escaping from its hutch and the cat giving chase, while the baby screams inconsolably.

Daemon Bear. I'm at a carnival watching a bear perform tricks much to the amusement of a delighted audience. It's my job to keep an eye on the bear if it decides to do its "thing." Sure enough, it bolts to the side of the stage mid-performance and transforms into what it really is: a demon. I run out after it but can't seem to catch it. In fact, it starts chasing me around the stage, much to the delight of an amused audience.

Lions in the Street. I'm walking along a quiet residential neighborhood and ahead of me I see a lion in front of a driveway. I turn around and see another one crossing the street. I'm scared but keep my wits about me, calmly walking to the front door of the nearest house and ringing the doorbell. A kindly old lady answers and invites me in. She pours me a cup of tea and as I look outside from a gorgeous bay window in her living room, she explains that the lions are harmless... it's the tigers you have to watch out for. I had this dream about a year and a half before the escaped tiger incident at the SF Zoo, so I'm not quite sure what nether region of my arse I pulled this one from.

The Sound. I'm in a creepy forest lined with withered, dead trees. Leaves are strewn all about the forest floor, ankle deep. Everything is black and white. It's cold and a thick mist hangs low just a few yards above my head so that I can't see the sky. All of a sudden I hear a reverberating murmur behind me, a sad lament calling me from the other side of the forest, and it chills my bones. I know that I have to leave this place before it catches up to me. I trudge across the dreary wood as fast as I'm able but the sound gets louder and louder behind me. I reach a meadow in the middle of which there is a ladder that will take me above the hanging mist, and hopefully to freedom. The sound is all around me now, a terrible ghostly chanting, and fear engulfs me, numbing my body and slowing my pace. As I grip the ladder and begin my ascent, the dream ends. The sound was my stereo alarm, and I had set it so that it would play The Empty Hollow Unfolds, a CD of scary as hell ambient music by one of my favs of the genre, Raison d'Être.

Album of the Week

Radiohead, In Rainbows. When it's good, it's great, but when it's bad, it stinks. Or maybe I just have to give it a few more spins. Standout tracks: All I Need, Reckoner, Nude.

It's Funny cos it's True

May or may not be going to Paris in May. I'd much rather save the money and go back to the Philippines & take a side trip to Bali instead. Anyway, in going through the French language tapes my friend loaned me, I was reminded of this old joke: What do you call a person that speaks 3 languages? Trilingual. What do you call a person that speaks 2 languages? Bilingual. What do you call a person that speaks 1 language? American.

Spirit of Transportation, Karl Bitter, 1895

30th Street Station, Philadelphia. Taken in 2005 on the way to visit the fascinating (and rather unnerving) Mütter Museum, followed by an Eyehategod gig at First Unitarian Church next door. Good times.



A plaque below the sculpture has inscribed the following: This panel, the conception and work of Karl Bitter, sculptor, was executed in 1895 and placed in the waiting room of Broad Street Station Philadelphia from which place it was removed to this site in January, 1933. The spirit of transportation is represented in triumphant procession of progress led by a little child carrying a model of an airship, a prophetic vision of a mode of transportation to come.

Extra Action Marching Band@Cafe du Nord, 2.29.08

Oakland's finest brass & percussion ensemble will literally invade the cozy SF club next Friday to rock your ever lovin' socks!! These guys have to be seen to be believed. Below are shots from their gig at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts in 2004. Website and history.

Pillow Fight Club 2008!!!

Photos and video from the 3rd annual Valentine's Day Pillow Fight, which took place at Justin Herman Plaza in San Francisco at the stroke of 6PM. Bob clued me in to the event that afternoon, so I headed out to the plaza after work, curious to see what this was all about. I had no idea of what to expect as I walked down Market Street, and then I noticed lots of others walking along with me with pillows in hand. By the time I got to the plaza, it was brimming with people. Hundreds, if not a couple thousand showed up. Sure enough, when the Ferry Building clock tower struck 6, the feathers were a flyin'! I had the biggest grin on my face the whole time. It was so fun! At times it looked like it was snowing with so many pillow feathers in the air. By the time I left at 6:40 the ground was covered white. It was such a cool thing to experience. Next year, I'll be there swingin'. Who's with me??? Info on pillow fight history here.

Album of the Week

Two this week. Lift Yr. Skinny Fists Like Antennas To Heaven by Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Red Headed Stranger by Carla Bozulich. I saw There Will Be Blood some weeks ago. Godspeed's music and Carla's reworking of Willie Nelson's classic album seem to perfectly frame the images and impressions of the movie that have stayed with me these last few weeks: Poor economically depressed towns, beautiful and vast lonely expanses of open country, and a man's slow descent into madness. Suffice it to say, I thought it was a great movie. And while I believe the film's music, composed by Radiohead's Johnny Greenwood, to be one of the best I've heard in a very long time (they really don't make 'em like they used to), as I sat there watching it I kept thinking "Damn, I've gotta listen to Godspeed when I get home!"