Echo

How the sky looks depends on what color glasses you’re wearing.

You can learn a lot about a person by watching them play basketball.

How I wish you could see the potential
The potential of you and me
It’s like a book elegantly bound but…
in a language that you can’t read just yet

–death cab for cutie

this is supposed to be one of the most torrential winters to date and really…you want to ride it out like this?

You…
Still a whisper on my lips
A feeling in my fingertips…it’s pulling at my skin.

how can we have more, without killing what we have?

we all live under roof and sky
we all will live we all will die
there is no wrong
there is no right
the circle only has one side.

-travis, side

Send me the truth sweet bird of youth
I’ve got some trouble trying to understand
Beneath the veils of mystery
Are these the movements of an unseen hand
Our arms are filled with sunken treasure
Now our heads are filled with perfect sound
But do we truly see it til we’re placing it in the ground
Take just what you need from me
Cause the night is bearing down
Baby let’s go all the way this time

-david gray, last boat to america

i’ve never missed you more than i did tonight. in the shimmering pools of their eyes, i reached for a glimpse of your reflection.

one thing i did notice tonight. lots of people wanted to shake my hand. everyone who shook my hand, there was a great deal of heat and soft electrical pulses between our touch. and no one wanted to let go. one guy shook my hand four times within a few minutes and i joked if he had a 30 second short term memory. but i think he just wanted to hold my hand, to feel the warmth and texture of my skin, like he couldn’t believe something. sometimes, amidst those handshakes, i would catch glimpses in my mind of my dream last night–i was aboard a boat, and there was a quest involved. something that i had to find or put together within a given amount of time to keep something i really wanted. something that was always just out of sight around the corner, but so familiar. there was a pit of quicksand and they said to just jump in and sink. And it would be scary at first when your head goes in and you can’t breathe, but if you stay calm, you’ll come out the other side in a whole other world.

every boy has a virgin/whore thing. they want the girl who’s passionate and sexual and what they regard as a mysterious, powerful creature they can (or can’t) tame, and also the girl who mothers him, believes in him and makes him a better man. they’re simultaneously complementary and contradictory.

the thing is, all women are both. in our purest form, it’s our essence. that’s why men seek it. but it’s the more self-actualized women who embody the duality with confidence.

tonight i went out people watching. on a 29 day. what i came up with blew my mind. must rest brain and finish recap later. but i feel like i got more proof that reality is synchronized.

to be honest, when i was at the david gray concert, i had the same feelings of the outer world being synchronized with my inner world. there were certain moments that just jumped out and triggered things I’ve been thinking of. they made me feel like where i am now is exactly where i should be.

near the end of his set, he tells a story of how the last time he was in seattle, he was signing autographs before the show and someone asked him how come he doesn’t ever play this song at shows. so, he said, this was a song close to his heart that he hadn’t played for a very long time, but it was for that fan who asked for this song.

then he played “last boat to america.” and i laughed to myself as i filled with sweet emotion.

Shining the light on other people is a good way to stay in the shadows.

last night i dreamed of stone statues, but instead of being covered in green lichen, they were covered in patches of orange.

i’m not blameless. i have it in me to be a bully. it’s nothing i’m proud of or anything i want to be.

snow flakes are falling, i catch them in my hand
snow flakes are falling, i catch them in my hand
snow flakes are falling, now you’re my long lost friend

life in slow motion…somehow it don’t feel real.

So if Ernie was my earliest role model, and his skits were all about domestic situations with his live-in male partner, maybe my earliest model of a positive relationship involved cohabiting with a gay man.

I am starting to think that parents really need to put conscious thought into what their kids are experiencing as their consciousness begins to open.

By the way, I called my mom yesterday just to say hi and to tell her about Snoopy Come Home. She asked why I was calling and I told her I was “longing for her” (it’s a Chinese phrase that means, I was thinking of you, but the connotations are wickedly romantic so I always find it funny to say it to my mom because she blushes). She said, “Why, we always fight.” I told her, because we’re in different cities so this is the perfect distance for us to appreciate each other.

She told me about how her older brother sent them (his brother and sisters) an email about how life is short and it’s about letting go of bad memories and just enjoying each other’s company. “So you should stop bringing up all the things I did wrong when you were a kid and just look at the good times now.”

I started laughing. I guess now would not be a good time to bring up my revelations regarding Snoopy Come Home.

I also realized she must still be stinging over some past conversation about my childhood.

That night before I drove up to Seattle, when we had dinner with Aubrey, Candice and Rie, Candice leaned over and said she notices that both Michael and I call our mom “Jean” instead of “Mom.” (We both call our dad, “Dad.”) I started laughing. “It’s because she doesn’t answer to Mom. Watch this.”

My mom is sitting right across from me, talking to Rie.

“Mom.”

She doesn’t even blink, continuing the conversation.

“Mom.”

Their exchange ends and she goes back to eating, her eyes glazed as she stares off into space.

“MOM,” I say, louder.

She doesn’t respond. Then less loudly, “Jean.”

Her eyes snap to focus and she looks up immediately. “Yeah?”

Candice and I laugh. “See!” I said. “It’s because people at work call her Jean. So she doesn’t relate the title ‘Mom’ to herself. She’s a good mother, just a bit negligent about her identity in that role.”

My mom just kind of laughed, embarrassed. She’s really good-natured because I’m a prankster and she’s usually my favorite prankee, but later, Rie asked if my mom’s feelings were hurt, because she thought they were. I didn’t think so, but maybe they were. My mom isn’t on a first name basis with her feelings.

She always takes that childhood stuff so personally, so defensively, about whether or not she was a good mother. I think it stems from the guilt she carries about my brother. I really wish she would talk to someone and come to terms with it, because it doesn’t have to be such a hot button. I think for me, I’m not bringing up childhood things to blame her but to understand it, where I came from, what combination of influences made me who I am today. And also to clean out the closets of hidden things and emotions that need to be released. Air it out to let it go. But it’s hard for her and I to talk about my childhood without it erupting into an argument. Usually, we’ll hit on something and she gets defensive and denies something, and I’ll get mad that she’s not having a civil discussion, or that she’s denying my feelings at the time. And then because I want her to acknowledge that what happened in the past hurt and she won’t, those hurt feelings now become hurt feelings compounded in the present.

I believe this is quite a common dynamic between adult children and their parents. But I still think bridging the past as adults with understanding paves the way to a tighter-knit future.

I wish she wouldn’t feel so guilty about things. Parenthood is really hard. It’s not about what you did wrong, it’s about what you do right. Both Michael and I turned out exceedingly well. We both definitely march to the beat of a different drummer, but the comment we get the most often from people who meet us is that we were raised right. And at least in my opinion, one of the best things you can do about the other stuff is look back and be able to laugh at it or be philosophical.

Mom, we had perms. If we can’t laugh about that, what can we laugh about?

Here’s Lisa Hannigan’s cover of Depeche Mode’s Personal Jesus. It starts of a little weird and then she rocks it at the 3:38 mark. Notice there are already comments from people who were at tonight’s Seattle show. I don’t think they realize she’s the female vocalist on Damien Rice’s O (and 9 Crimes). They’ve probably already appreciated her vocals without realizing it.

Lisa on Volcano with Damien Rice:

The last David Gray show I went to, he ended it with a cover of The Cure’s Friday I’m in Love. I kept thinking that if Lisa comes out in the encore and they do a cover of a Damien Rice song, I would be in heaven. But she didn’t. I think she and Damien had a bad falling out.

My ultimate dream concert has always been David Gray and Damien Rice on stage together doing each other’s songs. Like the Live Earth London 3-song performance (ending in Que Sera Sera–no clip):

(I just rewatched the Blower’s Daughter’s clip. Damien Rice is porn for ladies).

good writing on the mentalist:

We don’t want the killer to get him.

Yes we do. Muchado is our bait. He’s our tethered goat.

And too bad if the bait gets killed?

Well yes, that’s why you use goats, and not babies or virgins for that matter.

Muchado’s not a goat.

You’re right, he’s not a goat. He’s goatish . He deserves to suffer a little.

Nobody deserves murder.

Muchado helped burn Dave Martin alive out of greed.

Jane, we’re officers of the law.

You are. I don’t care about the law. I care about justice. And justice says Muchado deserves to suffer.

That’s not justice, that’s vengeance.

What’s the difference?

***

We’ve never discussed this because I thought it went without saying, but when I catch Red John, I’m gonna cut him open and watch him die slowly, like he did with my wife and child. Now if you have a problem with that we should talk.

Well let’s talk. Because when we catch Red John, we are going to take him into custody and he’s going to be tried in a court of law.

Not if I’m still breathing.

If you try to do violence to him, I will try to stop you. If you succeed in doing violence to him, I will arrest you.

I understand.

I hope so.

Well I’m glad we talked. I had no idea you were so bourgeois or conventional about the issue.

oh my god. it does rain sideways here.