we sway, we grab, at the strands, and the skin, couldn’t cause anymore friction than this

December 23, 2010

This day a month ago, I was spending the day at Santa Monica with my sister, gorging on frozen yoghurt and feasting on the novelty of simply being there. Just now I’ve attempted to add another day onto my California journal, which is a classic Moleskin notebook that I’ve lived in and lived out of for the duration of my trip. Currently the night of Friday 12th November is still being written out, if only in bullet points that include the details of what happened, what I saw, what I thought, etc. I want to get it all down ASAP before it all slips away from me… but the delicate tiers and layers to my sweet, bitter and bitter sweet memories are just so intricate and intertwined. It’s as if I have to write down every tangent I ever went on (somehow I remember, still, for now), because it was a part of the entire experience which I had. But in the process of peeling back the layers I’m afraid to lose something in the sensitivity and freshness of purely having lived through it and felt it, without ever thinking about it. Delicate indeed.

There is a very cute spider crawling around my ceiling at the moment. It’s the perfect spider size, aesthetically, I reckon. Small enough to be noticed and cute, and not big enough to make my sister scream and insist that I kill it. I still hope no one in my family comes into my room and finds it tomorrow though.

I’ve never really been a “fan girl” of any sort. Yeah, I’d say such and such guy from band/film/editorial/whatever is hot or sexy, but I’ve never really been one of those girls that actively drool over celebrities and such. This said, there are maybe half a handful of exceptions. One being James Franco. And the other, since the night of Friday 12th November, being Jamie Burke. At least I’ve met and exchanged a few words with the latter, you know, so I don’t sound like a complete dick when I say his voice vibrating through my eardrums was like audible sex. Would be very audible sex. Sorry. I’m often times against the supposed attractiveness of a man with a guitar in a band, because too many of these are put on some undeserved pedastool (by my standards anyway), and they aren’t even that great. But I think the combination of sexy man, ripped shirt, guitar, sexy voice, nice enough band, and orgasmic London accent is truly my weakness.

If there ever is a time where I wish I had my mythical “come hither” look tamed and available at my beck and command, it would be if I ever meet aforementioned half handful.

I can’t believe it’s Christmas Eve already. I’m not ready for Christmas feasting yet. I’ve consumed far too much food and drink this week to last me until the rest of 2010.

I know this entry is so scatterbrained. It’s literally everything I’m thinking of right now, in chronological order. Pretty typical-Amanda of me, I must say. Just for this post I’ve decided to start a new category on my WordPress: Males. Very appropriate way to begin the life of *cough* adult blogging? I was going to make it say “Men” but hey, I’ll keep it slightly broader, eh? Also, I’ve got two places I’d really like to take photos at. Namely, Lottie’s amazing bedroom and this other room with large windows. I fucking love large, photogenic windows. Why couldn’t this house have any like that?!

Current quote featured on my new whiteboard in front of me at the moment: WELL BEHAVED WOMEN RARELY MAKE HISTORY. That’s it, perfect. Motto for the end of 2010 and beyond, I say.

Green eyes just don’t cut it, quite, for me

December 14, 2010

Nothing ever quite pans out according to plan. I have a love/hate relationship with plans, because I love making and breaking them, depending which suits. The best occurrences are when things and people I didn’t know even existed suddenly formulate in front of me as our paths cross and intertwine, then part again. There’s been a couple of really stand-out occasions where that’s happened for me, and I guess a lot of feelings have been re-evoked in me tonight from watching “Before Sunrise” and “Before Sunset”.

There’s always the lingering questions and regrets, l’esprit de escalier and the utter hatred at fate for having granted you such a movie-like scene in your life, only to make the circumstances unbearable. Have you ever met someone who you felt was utterly perfect for you, but just in the wrong place, at the wrong time? Is there someone in your life that would be utterly perfect for you, give or take x amount of years?

Also, I think one of the most interesting phenomena (or theory) I’ve experienced, is the time in Taipei where my friend Joel and I had met some guys on a shuttle bus out of the airport, only to meet them twice more in Taipei: once at the 101, and another time on a metro! What are the chances of that happening?! Imagine if we had been at opposite ends of this very full metro carriage? Or different carriages? And so on… it intrigues me how you could potentially be at the same place at the same time as someone, and would never have known it. We had joked that if we crossed paths yet again that we would buy each other drinks. Obviously this didn’t happen.

I would keep thinking, “had I not left that gig early, I would never have met…”, or “had I not been reading a poster in the hallway, then…” I know life is too short to dwell on these things, but at times one can’t help but wonder. It’s times like these I wish I had a very anonymous blog where I could spill all my juicy, deep, dark, sad, mysterious encounters with various “important” people.

Product of the day is the following Christmas card I made earlier tonight. The lighting ruins it, but it’s black ink on silver card with a touch of red.

I won’t try, I won’t try
to make our paths collide
because next time, next time
I won’t let us say goodbye.

say it anyway, I would say, wait for me

December 13, 2010

It feels like the dates of December have blurred into some form of collective humidity. November in California seems like light years ago. I’ve been too distracted in this gallivant lifestyle lately that I can’t seem to do more than three productive things in one day. But today I read somewhere whilst Christmas shopping that, “life isn’t about finding yourself, life is about creating yourself” – an anonymous quote that just rang so loud in my head I couldn’t shake it off. So I’m glad that in about 15 hours’ time I will be having a jam with a man and his guitar, to hopefully put some music to lyrics I wrote some days ago:

If walking away was so easy,
Then why can’t we all?
What is this magnetism,
What is this draw?

Just because it’s there
Doesn’t mean you should
Just because I let you,
Didn’t mean you would.

Wandering through, your unknown house,
Learning your room, like I’m learning you.

If time was so infallible,
Then why can’t we count?
The moments are inconstant
And the moon isn’t round.

Just because you see it,
Doesn’t mean it’s there.
Just because I feel it,
Doesn’t mean you care.

Feeling up your walls, looking for the light switch,
Looking for my mind, afraid that I’m your kitsch.

When we walk so close together,
Something’s gotta give.
When you can’t move any closer,
Into me you start to drift.

It’s not about any one thing or person in particular, but rather like a snowball of how I feel, how people I know feel, and how it all somehow got magically regurgitated through this mind of mine. That sentence itself was like a snowball!

I’m going through one of those periods again where I feel like I am being too much of a Jane of all trades… If we set aside my old part-time cafe job, for the first time ever, I’ve made more money through my photographic work than playing music gigs. That said, the first year of jazz school and all the undesirables I went through this year has really shaken me from the core out. I’ve spent a lot of time on the road, on the plane, in the depths of the night with black ink trawling out from my fingertips, forming words and prose that didn’t exist on any conscious level until the moment they converged with paper. It’s hard to keep up all three outlets for me, balancing time, let alone all the mental factors – bass: practising jazz, refining my technique and writing music that spawns from some mysterious corner of my mind; photography: I’ve just not found the time to set up any of the photo shoots that I’ve plotted in my head, and have mostly just done spontaneous momentous work, which I must admit is my favourite; and writing… I’ve started up a couple of large-scale writing projects which are both hovering in my mind, with only a few pages of actual physical existence. This needs to change.

These photos are from the Viper Room where The Binges and Delilah played. Oh, Jamie Burke, what can I say? His London accent was like velvet to my ears during our far-too-short exchange. More will be uploaded soon, and I’ll be working on finishing my Californian journal.

Before I forget to mention it, one of my summer hockey teams (I play in four teams over two nights) is undefeated and we are playing in the finals on Wednesday night. Yay for a free meat pack to be devoured at a barbecue on Sunday! Yes, I’m already assuming we will hands down win. Hopefully I’ll get some satisfactory goals like I did last week.

This is one for the good days, You are my centre when I spin away

December 6, 2010

It’s hardly been a week since I’ve been back home in good old New Zealand, sleeping (mostly) in my own bed. That is, if and when I sleep at all…

These photos are from last week’s beach excursion with Lottie, complete with Malteser chocolates and gold fish snacks which I hauled back from the states for her. I’ve been thinking for a long time now that I really need a bikini that isn’t mostly black. Everything I own and wear is mostly black. This one is Volcom. But finding one that fits is such a fucking nightmare. We tried to go to the beach a couple of days later, but the weather turned to shit a bit, so it’s now going to happen in two sleeps’ time.

Since being back, I’ve been to two 21st birthday parties, partied even more on separate occasions, played four hockey games, met and re-met people I didn’t expect to really talk to, and re-kindled some old friendships. This week so far I have a bass lesson tomorrow, beach plans, a 20th birthday party/dinner/drinks, more hockey games, and then rounding the weekend off at a gig.

I’ve been working on my callouses again, because, you know, they’re important to bass players and we obsess over them and show each other our callouses. No, really, we do. It sounds kind of disgusting but I guess – especially to the boys – it’s like a crown of glory. Mine’s bigger, thicker than yours. Maybe I should’ve used another noun as the object of comparison. You know. Point is, I’m glad I can feel mine returning. Running through just purely scales up and down the fretboard for a good 30-40 minutes this afternoon, I could feel my left and right hand both feeling rusty at first, and then becoming more well-oiled with fluency and precision. Where was all this determination and drive when I needed it most during the year?

People I confide in and am close to have seen and felt a change in me and I like that. I can feel that I have a new bounce in my step, so to speak. And not the bounce that my “Dr Martens with Bouncing Soles” have given me either. Today I labeled Day 1 on “becoming the person i want to be” – and already it’s been far easier said than done. Sure, I did practise today, but not enough. Later, I cooked myself an early dinner with plans to digest it then hit up the gym to get back the muscle I need, in order to support and vanquish the pains of old injuries. What happened though? For some obscure reason, I fell asleep whilst reading. The next thing I knew it was 8.30pm and the gym closes at 9pm…

Now I shall try my best to not get distracted by some other artifact on the internet, or by music I want to explore and head to bed. Yeah, right.

I could do it all again

November 24, 2010

I don’t think anyone else in the world could possibly make the following statement that I’m about to make: “In the past 12 hours I have been to: Malibu beach, the Getty Centre for sunset and then to a Lakers vs. Bulls game”.

Spent about 3-4 hours in total driving today, especially during peak hour traffic from the Gettys Centre to the Staples Centre. Dammit, I know here in America they spell it as “center” but I just can’t do that without forcing myself to. On the way back to Malibu from the Staples Centre, a bunch of cop cars closed down a huge section of the Pacific Coast Highway, causing me and all the other confused drivers to take a huuuuge detour around the Malibu hills, down Sunset Blvd in a huuuge circuit. They did it in the most unconventional (aka inefficient, confusing and STUPID) way ever – instead of just parking and blocking the road with their lights on like the police usually do, they decided to turn their lights on and start driving in a zigzag pattern down the PCH, confusing the hell out of us all.

Anyway, I’m too tired to recount my whole day now. I took a roll and a half of black and white film as well, but here are just a handful of digital shots from my epic 12 hours today:

Went to the beach at Malibu – froze our butts off.