Siobhan
My blogs
Blogs I follow
| Gender | Female |
|---|---|
| Location | New York, NY, United States |
| Introduction | I'm flashy lightning right now. Which is better than a calm, clear night, but not as productive as a bright, clean bolt cutting through the sky. Trying to organize what feels like a bit of renewed creative energy and motivation into something focused and good. |
| Interests | I like reading and writing and music and art. Oh, and sports. Lots and lots of sports. |
| Favorite music | Justin Townes Earle opened for a bunch of other bands I went to see a few weeks ago, and he's all I've been able to talk about since. Well, him, and Dave Rawlings' guitar solo during his cover of Queen Jane Approximately, which is the first guitar solo that's ever given me goosebumps. Lately I'm on an alt-country kick (emphasis on the country rather than the alt), and I miss the good old days before music started taking itself so seriously. (How bad could our outlook on the world possibly have been if Ratt was writing the lyrics to *pick any song from Detonator*, and we were all singing along happily??) |
| Favorite books | I frigging love this poem: Impossible Dream by Tony Hoagland: In Delaware a congressman accused of sexual misconduct says clearly at the press conference speaking right into the microphone that he would like very much to do it again. It was on the radio and Carla laughed as she painted, "Die, You Pig" in red nail polish on the back of a turtle she plans to turn loose tomorrow in Jerry's backyard. We lived near the high school that year and in the afternoons, in autumn, you could hear the marching band rehearsals from the stadium: off-key trumpets smeared and carried by the wind drums and weirdly bent trombones: a ragged "Louie Louie" or sometimes, "The Impossible Dream." I was reading a book about pleasure, how you have to glide through it without clinging, like an arrow, passing through a target, coming out the other side and going on. Sitting at the picnic table carved with the initials of previous tenants; thin October sunlight blessing the pale grass--- you would have said we had it all--- But the turtle in Carla's hand churned its odd, stiff legs like oars, as if it wasn't made for holding still, and the high school band played worse than ever for a moment as if getting the song right was the impossible dream. |