We talked.

We sat out in the park by the swing sets in the freshly chipped pine. We sat in a circle talking about life and our love for you. The black blue sky was a canvas above us— speckled with stars, air brushed with clouds, enlivened by a full moon. It was a sanctuary of sorts and we worshiped in all our imperfection. And what we wanted most was to be able to love. Love you. Love others. Love life.

It seemed so simple.

A letter

Darling,

It’s been a while since we last spoke. We’ve both been so busy with our lives. Yesterday I contemplated all the things we have accomplished. It’s a lot, you know. But it doesn’t really satisfy me until I get to the part where we walked up the hill as the sun was setting and looked down at our world and realized how insignificant it was (from this point of view). I think that was the day we accomplished the most. And we were together. That was nice. I miss you. Don’t think of me too often. It’s better to dwell in the present, you get the most out of it that way. Love,

X

Chained to the Sky – K.M. Cavallaro

I agonize,
I lie awake,
Worrying,
Wondering–
What will happen?
Can I go on
As I have gone on
For so long?
I can’t even trust
That the earth’s still spinning
(Silence)
Through the night.

Breath bated,
I wait.

I keep holding on
For that moment when
The way things are
And the way they’re meant to be
Converge.

Glimpses are no longer enough for me.

I don’t understand
How that man could leave his wife and kids,
Or how the sun can scorch us so mercilessly
When all I really want is some rain.

But life keeps on.
I keep on.
There’s more than this, I know,

Sometimes I think this world will never stop.
(I want to get off)

Then I consider, ought I–
Seize the day?
Seize the moment!
Seize that second deciding
What shoes to wear.
Seize it before it slips away.
I’m not sure
You can’t miss
What you don’t know.

How much time have I wasted
Asking myself,
Will I—
Can I—
Justify this to the stars?
I should have just acted
And stopped asking.

Only one thing matters:
To know before Whom I stand.

To be (as I am)-
To act (as I do)-
To love-

This life was meant to be loved.

To live is to love.
To love is to die.
To live is to die,
Chained to the sky,
Inextricably bound and
Impossibly free.

http://kmcavallaro.wordpress.com/

I’m Not There- movie review

Take an eccentric ride through the many phases of Bob Dylan. Get tangled up in the complexity of a man difficult to understand. Enjoy music that cannot be categorized. Lose yourself in the confusion and the artistry. Get sucked in. And when it’s all over you will have witnessed more than just a movie about a folk singer. You witnessed a journey with no beginning or end. You witnessed a story with no plot. You witnessed a man with no direction home. Try to pin him down, try to label his music and this movie will tell you exactly what he would say:  “I’m not there.”

In the film I’m Not There legendary singer Bob Dylan is assigned to six different actors. Each actor personifies a different phase of his life. But director/writer Todd Haynes does not tell us Dylan’s story. It is not an account of his life. Rather, this movie is a nonlinear erratic collage that catches glimpses of the legend. These glimpses, interspersed with myth, are artistically woven into a visual masterpiece backed by a soundtrack of Bob Dylan covers and originals. The movie itself is a manifestation of a Dylan song: full of cultural imagery, seasoned with emotion, versatile in style, and unorthodox. As the scenes flick past, seamlessly compiled, Dylan’s songs take a life of their own. And though his name is never spoken, the six actors representing Dylan as poet (Ben Wishaw), prophet (Christian Bale), outlaw (Richard Gere), fake (Marcus Carl Franklin), celebrity (Heath Ledger), and singer gone-electric (Cate Blanchett), gather up his many loose ends and leave them hanging.

The Things I Love

What do I want out of life? What does anyone want out of life? There are so many options.

I don’t know.

I have not cultivated much of what I really enjoy, to my disappointment. But it is a start to at least know what  gets you excited about life.

I love music. I love the creativity and nuance of music. I love the ability music has to evoke a spectrum of emotions, I love how it inspires. I love lyrics, strumming guitars, drum beats, harmonicas, soaring and gravely vocals, piano, base, saxophone. I love it all. I love its individuality. I love how it brings people together. I love its endless possibilities.

I love words and writing. I love good stories. I love it for the same reason I love music: It’s beauty. It’s creativity. It’s emotion. It’s inspiration. It’s endless possibilities. Words capture a piece of the Aurora Borealis, a glimpse of heaven, a thread of the colorful tapestry that is this world. I love the magic in a story and I love it’s realism.

I love art, too,  history, dance, laughter, movies, food, culture…

I love to dip my fingers into a world brimming with mystery, beauty, love, unpredictability, adventure.

I love it.

I have yet to cultivate my love. But isn’t that what life is for?

A Brief Commemoration to Those Who Died on September 11th (by Kristen Trovato)

I am writing this to you,

You who will never read this.

I am writing to tell you that the world is still beautiful, and that people still dance and make love and kiss their children on the foreheads.We still haven’t quite figured out what we’re here for or why life can get so fucked up.

But tonight we take our breaths a little slower and love the world a little deeper– because we know that all of this, like you, could be gone so soon.

http://kristentrovato.wordpress.com/2009/09/13/a-brief-commemoration-to-those-who-died-on-september-11th/

Life Like the Waves

Life is like going to the beach. We play in the sand beneath the sun. But some of us don’t stay where it is safe and warm. We venture near the water where it is cold, dark, and unpredictable. There are big waves and sharks. We go anyways. Something compels us to walk from the warm beach to the place where the sand gets wet, the breaking point, faced with the ultimate choice: comfort or adventure?

Only some make the choice to stretch out their five toes and let the salty water, cold and frothed, swallow first one foot then the other. Only some go deeper, legs, and deeper, torso, and deeper, head, until they have given themselves over to the ocean, to the unknown, to life. But the adventure has just begun. Life is like the waves. They are small because it is shallow. But you, you want to go deeper. You see the horizon on the other side and want to follow it. The waves, they get bigger. Your feet still grasp the sandy bottom but only your chin is above water. Your eyes catch a glimpse of a wave, your eyes fill with fear, it is big, it is dreadful,  it is coming straight for you until…swoosh! Your legs are knocked from under you; your head is forced beneath the powerful wave– grasping, thrashing, kicking, swallowing salt, suppressed and breathless, tossed around and around until you barely know which way is up. Then you feel the grate of sand on your skin. Your feet find the ocean floor, your head breaks through the iron sea and you gasp for breath, for life, sweet life. Laughing with eyes upward and outstretched arms you kiss the sunshine and know that you have faced a wave.

You have felt fear and suffocation. You have fought for breath and for life. You swim a little deeper. Then you see it. It is big, it is dreadful, it is coming straight for you, but this time you dive beneath it– just in time. You kick with arms and legs fighting the surge until you are victorious. Your head breaks through, you gasp for breath.

Looking ahead you see the horizon, closer than ever to your goal.

Bart and the Budwiggers

That’s right, the Budwiggers.

I heard this local Moscow, Idaho band for the first time today when I opened the doors to  One World Cafe and was welcomed by an exploding serenade of amped up music. This made ordering a cappuccino more difficult than I expected.

They brought a good crowd with them. Kenny, my brother, works at the cafe. He said they rate bands depending on the crowd turn out. The Budwiggers got a great turn out, highest rating too. This isn’t suprising when you hear them. They’re music is the perfect blend of soulful blues, real lyrics, and head bobbing beats.

Don’t try to escape their songs, they’ll captivate you and won’t let  go till the show is over.  ”Dream” makes you want to sway with soulful sorrow and “I wish I could remember the name” sweeps you up into a foot tapping, body jamming frenzy.

The band consists of Bart Budwig (vocals, guitar, trumpet, bass), Andy Abrams (lead guitar), Cooper Trail (drums), Mike Hightower (acoustic guitar, vocals, bass), Chris Lowe (Hammond Organ and Keys), and Isaac Leidenfrost (live sound guy)

Cooper Trail, I have to say, was my favorite to watch. Not only does he play great drums, but he’s just a kid– a glasses wearing, normal looking teenage kid– who has the best time ever rocking out behind his set.

This is a great group. I would probably compare them to Bon Iver, Josh Ritter, and a little bit of Coldplay. They’re in the indie/folk rock genre. Vocals are soulful and gravely. I think their best musical quality is the beat. Great beat. Great bass too. As well as meaningful lyrics. (And everything else) All these qualities tie in nicely to form a musical group that more people should get into.

Yeah, so check them out at http://www.myspace.com/bartbudwig

A nightmare

Before me was a great room. All was white and filled with lovely women in colorful gowns. By the clothing and hair I could tell this scene was set in the 20’s. The air was clogged with laughter, the chatter of voices, and the scent of sweet perfume. Kristen, my sister, and I were apart of this grand scene, drinking champagne, small talking with important men and women, and dancing. But amidst the merriment and revelry something foreboding seemed to darken the atmosphere and chill laughter. By observation everything looked fine but felt uneasy.

Throughout my dream Kristy seemed very disturbed. She looked stunning, I remember, but fidgeted nervously and constantly glanced about her as if searching for someone. I overlooked this and continued to enjoy the party.

As time went on and night set in I first saw something that disturbed me. I was dancing with many others and as I danced a tall woman with short black hair and a black flapper dress caught my eye. She stared at me, looking proud and condescending. I did not like the looks of her at all. She made me feel uneasy. Her eyes penetrated mine and I turned abruptly away to avoid her gaze. Seconds later I turned back again. She was gone.

Kristen approached me, grabbed my hand, and hastily led me to an isolated corner of the room. She spoke low and fast. She told me someone was after her, that someone wanted her dead. She said I had to help her. She was scared and didn’t know what to do. I was a little worried at hearing this but responded by saying she was just tired and had too much wine. She should rest a while. But inside my blood pounded and  I too felt something was wrong.

I went to the bathroom to calm my nerves and dash water on my face. The bathroom was much fuller than I expected and amidst the crowd of women I saw her. Her make up was dark around her eyes and her lipstick a deep red. Her black hair and dress contrasted with her white complexion. It made her look ghostly. She stared at me, a towering spectral. She pierced my eyes with hers, no fear, no shame. Proud. Undaunted. She smiled a crimson smile, a smile that chilled me to the bone. I turned my face away in fear and then glanced back. She was gone. I was scared now and trembled. I searched for Kristen and told her to tell me everything. She only said I had to help her. That they were trying to kill her and she needed my help. She said we have to find the lady in black.

So together we ran through the masses of people searching for the mysterious woman, but I lost sight of Kristen in the thick of the people. I called out her name but all I heard in response was the hollow laughter of people I did not know. It drowned my ears. Swarms of bright colors swirled past me in a blurr. My eyes were distracted as I scanned the crowds for the lady in black. A ways off, in the midst of a group of people, I saw a head of jet black hair and a dark gown, hovering. I pushed my way to where she stood but when I got there she was gone. This happened several times.

As I searched I came upon a long narrow hallway that stretched to the right of the building. It was empty and dark. I looked down it and saw something that disturbed me greatly. There was blood, a pool of crimson blood, on the ground below me. There was also a pair of cracked glasses lying in the middle of the hallway. My trembling hand picked them up and looked through the lenses. What I saw was not what I expected. Instead of seeing a blurry hallway, empty and dark through the glasses, I saw an active scene going on before my eyes. I saw, in black and white, a murder. Two men grabbed a woman and drug her into the hallway. She struggled and tried to scream but one of the men covered her mouth. The other pulled out a knife and slit her throat. She struggled no more. I quickly thrust the glasses from my eyes in horror. Immediately the hallway became still and empty once more, except for a red pool of blood where, through the glasses, the victim lay. This victim was none other than my sister. But had she really died or were the glasses a foreboding of what was to happen?

I woke up.