jeff buckley.

it's your day. we lost you. and i love you. forever. for giving the gift of song and voice and presence. for caring. for standing.for movement. and now i am in nyc. and everywhere there are moments of you. tonight at vasmay me and jesse and meridith had a shot of jagermeister for you. and then i found lizzy who had words of you also. the synchronicity has not stopped and i will not either. i love today. all ways. xokg.

conor - thank you (yes, god loves me)

it's true. it was a night. let's recap, girl meets boy. boy has a show and girl attends. girl by some random coincidence meets man. man knows bright eyes. man takes girl to show.
enter tonight.
connor is playing 7 sold out nights at town hall. which is an amazing venue. full of light and bright music and simple sincerity. somehow the trend seems to be i only get to see bands i like with an all access pass



in any case. when i arrived. conor was writing the set list in the back. his girlfriend was familiar. at the end of the night on the subway home after lee kept mentioning 'maria, connor's girlfriend' i was like waaaa wait a minute. she looked familiar and she is in a band i know.and then it came. yep. she is half of azure ray. half of the song 'displaced'. half of a moment of heaven. thank you for that.

gillian welch was beautiful. just a gorgeous laid back woman of interest and song.
to see her set first row center on the balcony was another blessing. to go backstage and fill up on wine was another ;).
and then bright eyes came. all 12 of them. visuals included an etch a sketch, bouncing balls in a pyrex dish, and blowing red bubbles in a glass. connor looked just like jack white which was kinda freaky. no more emo kid with hair in his face. he's 27 and all grown up. he's compared to dylan and it's not hard to imagine why. he sings in a voice carved in emotion and youth. in experience and innocence. he brings the soul to light in a way few performers can. sharing an experience while delving headlong into it. his band of strings, drums, horns and woodwinds almost overwhelmed him at times...but then would shake up the sound just enough to keep you wondering what would fall next. it was absolutely fucking beautiful.



now let's have another moment. now. honestly i've never been a fan of riloy kiley. sorry. but literally one week ago i was taking the long subway ride home and somehow happened upon jenny lewis and the watson twins. this song came on and it brought me to tears. it brought me a moment : melt your heart. so this evening, before the show started i think i hear conor say 'yeah melt your heart'. oh he must be covering jenny lewis, cool, i think. i get out to my seat and lee says awe i think i saw jenny lewis backstage, you can meet her later. whu? oh...okay universe, i see. you wanna play?
sure enough. halfway through the set she comes out and they sing 'melt your heart'. what the fuck are the odds of that??? okay god. i'm listening. thank you thank you thank you . this is a beautiful night. a ridiculous how. and a reminder that all that i need is appearing and all that i need to know is in my hands. everything i need to make my dreams come true is not to be found but to be experienced. because it is happening now.

show is almost over. it's time for the encore. by this point i realize i need to catch up on the material because there are some amazingly beautiful songs i do not know but now are floating through me...don't be so amazing, it pains me....and more songs on war and the rapture...:)

i get to stand on the stage for the encore. i get to stand on stage next to the drum kit and sound man while i hear conor oberst sing 'lua'. 'i know that it is freezing but i think we have to walk. i keep waving at the taxies they keep turning their lights off...i know you have a heavy heart. i can feel it when we kiss. and many men stronger than me have thrown their back out trying to lift it...' i just. that was it. it was awesome. to look out at this crowd of thousands and be a part of such a night. and know...that...this is real....thank you

backstage. more wine. and no i was not hallucinating. i did see ben gibbard earlier backstage. so i introduced myself. i really should have thrown myself down on the ground and kissed his feet, thanking him for writing 'transatlanticism' and saving my life for about 1.5 years but...next time.

lee? you rule.



the walk out was the best part...hahahhahahaha



what a fucking night.
what a fucking show.
thank you thank you thank you.
and i am on my way. inspired. tuned in. alive.
xoxo.kg.

pablo neruda

he speaks. the heart listens. and for just a moment i remember i am not alone. i'm sure i'll forget again. but i've got a bottle of merlot open. and a concert to go to...and i will keep running. for now his poem. to remind me to remember. that words bring comfort. again and again and again. :) thank you thank you thank you :::

____________________________________________


I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.

-- Pablo Neruda

warning sign : danger

I should come with a warning sign: danger – do not remove from manhattan. the static comes. the volume goes down. the echoes never end. when I’m not home the spaces in my heart scream so loud it drowns out the color. when I touch back down I am amplified and every possibility and thought of passion takes a hold and charges ahead. comfort brought by simply being. by stepping softly. by running swiftly. worry dissipates. hysteria is vanquished. all that exists is this possibility, this energy that is home. the sheer volume of feet and eyes that have penetrated this city, owned it , built it, created within it, from it, passed through it…all of this is held here. all of this brings warmth and kindles a relationship to the city that no other place can ever hope to touch. new york city I love you. you are my forever love.

god

i'm tired of crying over false gods. and infinite pretext. of satiated thoughts and love that comes in waves only to crash into me and push me back. falling into myself. where no one can see. where only one witness can collapse. and his door has closed. and i come running. feet first. laughing. disturbing the peace. waiting for no thing and asking for grievances to repent again and again and again. because i can see. because the wolves have come. because he sits silent and asks for forgiveness that only i can give. and so i take from myself. and i pass it along. and i wait. and i wait. and i wait. and i love. and it might not ever come. but i love. and i love. and i love.

forgiveness

there is hardly truth in recognition
there is barely skin to singe
there is obscenity
obscurity
and lifeless adventure
there are eyes closed
and chest lifted
and safety in beds

no longer absent minded
no longer closed heart
now mending
now shifting
now forgiving
everyone
but me.

sound...

sound is similar between you. thoughts and navigation. tales and taller still. yet fascination can only hold so much and then faces must return. reality must bite skin and regroup. one step two she says she says. and i have gone ahead.

645am. (again)

645 is the perfect time to go to bed. wander wander wander. coffee at grumpys. wander wander wander. amazing japanese food off ave c. wander wander. doc holiday's till past closing. yes meridith i lurv you. dance. laugh. drink. repeat. oh yeah. and keith's back.
the end.
interview in just a few hours. stat. go go gaget professional.

nyc :: rush hour

never have i seen so many many people in one location in business attire. there were at least 200 people in suits walking up the steps together at the 5th ave/53rd st exit at approximately 8am today. oh man that was just silly. silly. silly. and endlessly entertaining for lil ol me. today? sit silent. look busy. contemplate life. clean up email. anticiapte tom hayes tonight at rockwood music hall. this city and it's ridiculous supply of live music i will be eternally grateful for. bring it on. kisses. xokg.

rebecca moore.

a little moment. a piece. heaven. truth. pure emotion. a band so in tune, watching her, so aware of what she is saying, why she is doing it, and singing their hearts out along with her. that is what I crave. to see that to hear it to create in the same vein as well. such a blessing. thank you thank you thank you for stiletto young stars. for an hour of music for such humble awakenings. and for cracker factories. you are a beautiful creature. xokg.

(rebecca moore at the living room. nyc.)

it's a contest. i win i win i win.

it’s 1145. I haven’t gone to bed yet. I don’t think. have I? I win. sexy bitch. that’s all i have to say. when you happen upon 3rd and b you enter heaven. I ate prime rib cause it looked gooooooooooooood. the spicy candy yams were kinda heaven. rob’s sangria was so good we drank a pitcher. drunken cherry cheesecake with blueberry vodka topping? yeah. sign me up. daisy is the sexy bitch and she was purty cute. uhhhh. biggest bottle of champagne ever. happy birthday jim. suko? I don’t know the name but lounge booth and effen vodka I almost turned into a gremlin but i remained intact. I rule. aliens drule (yes I like it spelled that way) your mom your face and you are. the end. the rest is a secret.

A Druid Princess and the Madness of Flight

Energy
I am a path of
Righteousness
Limbs breaking in terror
To the sound my mouth makes
In silent personification
Of your sufferings.
I am saintly
A master
In your face I am e g o
To your body I am P o w e r
Harnessed and unyielding for I am
A child raised with fear
Nodding off in silent habitation
Pissing on every corner
For the joy of freedom
No longer masked by unmarked
Graves.
I am the druidic priestess
Calm and angered by your limbs
Which pull on me
Strange and human…holy
And unbounded.
Wake me no more from
this present reality
Shifting,
Silent-
No more

Many days I was, raised in fear, as if the wolves might come to me again. And what if I remember? Who would believe my cries then? Where would I hide the snakes that speak to me if my father should ask of the voices? I am not distanced from my loves, I am only aware of my self in a state of consciousness that runs through my veins, caustic and rampant…I am alive and the color of my blood sheds this truth to me with the dawning of each new moon.

Breathe with me here in this moment.
Be with me here.

Time is the irrelevant spark of the soul that traverses space and imagination, connecting us all to the will of the divine: cosmic consciousness bears no grudge against her…time lingers and joins hands with many a race and word and deed…too numerous to count. Why would I even want to? I am not that voice. I am weary, tired my mouth is from screaming empty shades of nothing into the voided atmosphere of tempered fear…this was the way of my family, this is not the way of my heart. Screams of anger rise short and fall…chest heaving, I am silent again, my eyes expressive and ever changing. I am water. My body, breeding, is made of fire-the dualistic miracle of which I am now just coming upon.

My hands sometimes shake, not with warmth or glamour but vibrations that prick and tingle, remaining for many moments, holding my fixated interest-pinning my eyes with divine discovery.

I can heal. This is my message.
I am you. This is my truth.

Together I am with many kin, walking and waking…sharing in my breath secrets, time, age and flustered reality. Tell me, which of what I choose is real? Which slice of vision is perfection? I can sit for hours but the room melts and I find that air spins beyond my control; all I have left to do is continue breathing, to gain the rights back into my body. I am human now, this time…feelings of warmth mingle with the swords which bring cold fires into my chest…haunting my heart and unnamed memories. It is through all of this that I communicate.

Through this fear…
I am Fear.
Through this pain…
I am Pain.
I am unbearable…unending Joy.
This life I am…beauty.
I am man, sex, sage, fuel, fire…
fantastical illusion of life I am…
burning all of life for you.

I am your muse.

Fear not the freedom of being… a C r e a t o r.

[12.20.01]

all that is sought

I want truth
to abandon me
so that sin cannot feel
nor find a home
nor blink its eyes
in regret

that fear has caught
another hope
and witnessed such frank
denial
despite whisperings
offerings
defenses
I cannot comment
I cannot stand
to look
his eyes
see too much.

so stand still
straight back
look ahead
erase all thought and
travel strong
this trailing train
of all that is sought.

walking.wishing. creating.

sun comes
shooting past me
lips terse
breath catching
what of mystery?
there is no one left
to break
or catch
or lean on
so feel less
or release
let faith fly
let the world
open
caress
and dare not regress
past present presence
we forget nothing
we dream only waking
walking
wishing
and
creating.

dance. dance. dance.

nothing better than walking into a party and the first two songs are tony and the beat then house of jealous lovers. you know you are home and you know you are in good hands. after an okay show at the living room, french onion soup and three yes 3 cups of coffee at the pink pony kimmy kim wanders over to the sutra party on 1st and 1st. uh. yeah. it was almost like being teleported home back to safari sams. paparazzi did not make an appearance tonight, i had to try and fit it mwahahha but next week it'll be on. highlights included a fight where a guy nearly got thrown on top of me, good thing i'm quick, lots of hand clapping, free vodka, excellent dj (dimitri? not sure but i love him) wild and silly dressed peeps, boys with hair in their face and finally a dance off (not to be confused with a dance-fight!) where i got twirled around and around and think i met the only hipster who could out dance me. he was like pulling out some arm spinning ballroom shite how am i supposed to know how to do that?? when in doubt grab on and laugh. exactly.
and oh yeah sleep is sooooo overrated i'm not even tired yet.
train ride home? ready?
hit the f. one stop in guy from club who was dancing next to me all night gets on. make friend. transfer to a. train catches on fire. wait at 59th. see guy from club with fox stole and bindi on. make friends. get on new not on fire train. man throws up. not attractive i KNOW. scary homeless man picking his face on other end of train. kim puts on thou shall always kill and has dance party in her head. laughs about the night. marvels that there are over 10 people in the car and it's nearly 4am. almost die when a lady who has to be at least 70 wearing a head to toe pink jumpsuit and sandals gets on train. whut? where's she possibly going at 4am gramma?? kim arrives at last stop with two sleeping men. walk walk. now i'm home. kim needs to get a knife. kim loves to dance. kim misses her lala girlies and can't wait for mili to come may 24th. love love love. the end.

jameson. friend or foe.

the night started and perhaps ended early. spots are shady in between. some of the best moments are left un-captured but their staying power is strong. a polish diner on 2nd and 7th? heaven. it was like being transported to some eastern european relatives house and being served food by gramma. love it. and the guy sitting next to us who apparently hadn't paid for his food in weeks but was promising to pay them back after this meal? well...that was interesting. no photos. just go. you will love it.

now let's talk about happy hour. first off. we are in nyc. there is a bar every other door around here, especially in the east village/lower east side which is really the only place worth going if you need a drink and a chill night out. 2-4-1, jukeboxes, trying to make up whiskey songs and watching some crazy guy sing at the parkside all in between fake ninja fighting and silliness. the real culprit of the photos that follow is my good friend jameson. now. we all know how much i love him and we all know that violence that's still somewhat hilarious usually ensues. now what needs to be put on the table and remembered for the rest of my life IS: once kim starts drinking the jameson then switches to beer she should not under any circumstance be fed more whiskey. it's like the gremlin rule. under no circumstance no matter how much i act tough or beg or ask or cajole. no. just don't do it. let this be remembered. let this be the new solution. jameson i still love you.



what i love more is being crowned with flowers by merideth who i fell in love with:






now i don't remember the name of the bar but it's on houston and they had hank williams on the jukebox and i even saw elvis:



and this guy? i think i tried to include him in our fun and from the look on his face he was slightly intrigued and also scared to death. figures. i have that effect on men haha. yeah.



brandon is trouble. he tried to chain himself to the bar. drink whisk-wee with his tongue and he even put up with me all night. not sure how he did it but he scores some kinda extra bonus points for that one. xo.







so let's recap. diner. happy hour. happy hour. happy hour. happy hour. photos. yummies. photos. happy hour. the end. almost.





see.. i still had the subway ride home. i got to practice my french and impress the frenchies who were running AMOK on the subway interviewing people and spewing french at them while videotaping. they were pretty stoked when i started speaking to them in my broken french. hi-yah. they are just lucky i didn't try to ninja fight them. here they are:



while waiting for the a-train i had to hide from the metal minions that tried to follow and attack me. i just barely made it, perhaps they were just scared of my shoes?





sigh. that's all the recap for now boys and girls. it's 4pm and i am off to sit in the kitchen and noodle my guitar. abra moore at the living room tonight. coffee at the pink pony. take over the world. yadayadayada.xokg.

it's time to remind you :: here's the list :: bring on the aliens

back in the day gussi came up with the fabu idea to just spell out a list of 'dream alien requirements' so as not to mistake any casual crushing for potential love interests. the result? the famous requirements. i've been known to say 'sorry you don't fit my requirements! read the list!' but that was only once, and it was really late and i think i had been drinking...i'm honestly not that mean. most of the time. in case you're curious and/or missed the bulletin here you go. let the games begin.

dream alien requirements:
should you meet these qualifications or know of someone who does please contact me immediately.

- rocks the combover
- has desire to share hairdye
- an alien-duh
- equiped with 2-3 eyeballs
- must own at least 2 pleather items of clothing
- prone to mood swings
- 6'3" or over
- hair covers 25% of your face
- must be an artist-preferably with a portfolio or sound bytes for quick reference
- skinny! skinny! skinny!
- pretty! pretty! pretty!
- occupied with something other than me so we don't have to hang out everyday
- born before july 22, 1978
- who needs a six pack when you could have a keg
- mild case of social anxiety

just a photo.

i can't sleep. been sitting around since 630. and i went to bed at 3. i miss this. more words coming soon. for now let's just explain last night with perhaps the funniest photo i've taken in a while. taly, brandon, you both are just, class. xokg.