I was in midtown yesterday morning because I’d finally worked up the nerve to purchase this jacket that I’ve wanted all season and still hadn’t bought. I knew exactly where it was so I got up early to run a ‘quick’ errand to the city to grab coffee, make this important outerwear investment, and meet my friend Sam for brunch. When I got to the store, however, I lost my nerve due to the fact that I was very much overheating which caused me to effectively weigh the prospect of how much I’d be wearing this very expensive coat in the immediate future, which I concluded was probably not at all. I then proceeded to spend almost the same amount of money on a good deal of smaller, more versatile items in an effort to satisfy an overwhelming urge to splurge. In that headspace, one can rationalize anything, it’s disgustingly awesome. There is, however, something to be said for having worked hard enough to a. have a modest amount of expendable income, and b. have the freedom to spend it on oneself. Consumerism really is like some bizarre religion that we’ve all devoted ourselves to to some extent; we work to get paid, and we pay to live, returning funds as fuel to the universal machine we’re all a part of. So shopping is like church. I went to church.

After church, I wandered back in the direction of the train stop I’d gotten off at, near which I’d seen a salon with a sign advertising a $2500 blow dry, which seemed like way too much money for any salon service, so assuming the sign had lost a decimal at some point, I stopped by to cash in on the savings. The place was empty and looked like a set from a salon scene in Pretty Woman or something (if that movie had a scene set in a salon). I didn’t feel like asking price, these people needed my business, and having set my heart on a hairdo, I knew I wasn’t walking back out the door to find somewhere better. These kinds of places seem to be quite common, specifically these pseudo-swanky midtown salons that are impressively unoccupied. This having been the 4th salon in the city I’ve sought this service from and found this way, I declare a pattern and plan to further my research, perhaps even document these spaces, just because I find them strange and fascinating. Is this place a front? Whose paying for you to stand around? I guess I am.

So I have this stupid asymmetrical haircut I got back in November that was intended to be a subtle variation of my shoulder-length block hair cut, but my overzealous Vidal Sassoon schooled stylist was all too enthusiastic in his execution. Had I let him have his way, he’d have likely cut off the left side of my hair completely. Anyway, I left that day very disappointed and I still don’t love it, though I’ve found that when I have it done, it caters quite nicely to a big anchorwoman bob look. This is what I wanted when I went in  yesterday.  This woman, though nearly inaudible with a heavy exotic accent, had strong styling skills and seemed to know exactly what I wanted. Before I lived in New York, I was a manager at a very nice salon in Cherry Creek. It was there that I developed a taste for a good rinse and style. My stylist, Matte, was the best blowout in town and he could somehow do my midtorso-length hair in less than 30 minutes. I don’t know if you can appreciate how amazing that is, but I’ve been on a long a aimless quest to find someone or something comparable here since. Also, the luxury of having his styling skills at my beck and call came at a very low cost– a ride home, which is one of those things that reminds me just how good I had it back home. Here in the city, I have to pay to get my hair done– some things are just more important.

Toward the end of the service, it became apparent that this lady really didn’t know what I wanted, and somehow hadn’t noticed the dramatic angularity of my hair, so I began guiding her through the finishing process. Meanwhile another woman had come in and was waiting for my stylist to finish with me. She was a chic woman, probably in her early 70’s, with short white hair, a beautifully aged and vivacious face, wearing peach lipstick. She was staring at me/us for a short while, seemingly impatiently, and I began to feel that sort of polite panic only someone who understands the true sanctity of the appointment slot can feel. I still couldn’t help myself though, and I began just finishing my hair myself, showing the woman what to do. The waiting lady then came over, her approach exceeding her words telling me she was about to say something awesome, and then she said ‘I’m so glad you’re fussy. It’s so important to know what you want’. And with that, she simultaneously validated my entire Sunday existence and blessed my excessive behavior. She went on to level with me, her apparent fascination shrouded in modest praise, and for a moment I felt I’d arrived somewhere new, like I had suddenly danced my way in to some fancy club for elegant and refined Manhattan women. If I were a little more interesting and I didn’t already have lunch plans, I’d have asked her to dine with me.

I eventually said goodbye, left, and caught a cab to Union Square feeling very satisfied. I don’t know where all this lies outside the context of a self-indulgent Sunday, I just know that I got what I paid for.

Posted in WORLD

On Seeing


Last Friday I was just thinking. I was trying to think of an everyday concept, one that was more complex than it appeared to be. Then I started thinking about color. And then I thought about what color really is, which is light (kind of). And then I thought briefly about what color really, really is, which is the result of light wavelengths interacting with an object’s molecular structure–an object’s unique molecular structure determines what light wavelengths it absorbs and reflects, in turn giving it color. (I then noted that an object’s color is inherently opposite to the colors of light it accepts/absorbs- which is just interesting to note.)

BUT THEN, I thought about describing the thing of color– not how color works, but just describing a color. I’m sure this has occurred to you before. How would you describe red to someone? Fire? Apple? Warm/hot? I mean, a sighted person could understand what you’re inferring about red by referencing those things, but what about a blind person? You would have to venture outside the realm of sight to explain to them effectively the experience of the color red. Inevitably, you would find this task extremely difficult, if not impossible. I daresay it is impossible, because logically, color is a physical characteristic that exists only in the experiential dimension of sight–You cannot perceive it any other way (that we know of). And I know some people reported to have smelled or tasted color during a hallucinogenic trip, but clearly that would not have been possible had they no previous perception of color/sight.  Texture and depth and dimension are visual characteristics also, but are not perceivable only by sight– you can feel them.

Anyway, I already knew it was impossible to describe color to a person incapable of seeing. I was more just fascinating myself by the ever-apparent truth that our human experience is forever limited to our body’s ability to perceive our environment. Just because we are unable to feel color, doesn’t mean that somewhere there may exist a being that can. And what would that be like? How would that enhance our human experience? I am sure I can’t say. This all, of course, is just an elementary example of a much more extraordinary idea. Though I try, I simply cannot live every moment of my life bearing in mind these kinds of truths and all that they imply. The best I can do is remain aware, and whether or not what I am experiencing is all that truly exists, what does exist that I am capable of experiencing, I will try endlessly to perceive. Being alive is an involuntary state of being, but living is a conscious pursuit. We can’t ever know everything, and some things, I believe, we are incapable of knowing. Move forward into the unknown with the humility of the consciously discerning observer.

This is what I was thinking about on Friday. Today I am thinking about politics and Beyoncé, which I may write about at a later date.

Posted in THOUGHT


I have a folder on my Desktop entitled ‘Internet’. It was once much larger. I have since cleared it out, a thing I plan to do now, but before I do, I’d like to share its contents with you. So, here’s a bunch of shit I’ve gathered from the Internet– this is as close to tumblr as I’ll get.

Posted in Uncategorized

One last thing

Ok, so I won’t go on and on about him, but I must submit– I’ve fallen in the strangest sort of love with the thing of the late Christoper Hitchens. I won’t bore you with a nonsensical attempt to explain what that truly means to me, suffice it to say I’ve never been so struck by a person in this way in my entire life. I expect he will influence immeasurably the path of my future intellectual pursuits.

This is a lovely debate I spent some time this afternoon listening to while working. It looks like this event took place very close to the end of his life. There is a certain humor present here I have never seen in him before; one that might surface, perhaps, in a state of truest nirvana. To me, it seems to suggest a profound serenity; an acquiescence of a most graceful decline.

Posted in THOUGHT

A life

It should seem quite obvious where my head’s been lately. In fact, I am leaving today to register for my second round of college. This time I plan to use my brain. It’s grown restless and if I don’t tend to it, it might run away without me.

Sometimes I go a little crazy in moments when small things appear finite. Sometimes I spend a lot of money on things I’ll soon neglect, but at present regard as vital, it seems, even to functions as involuntary as breathing. In that small space, my mind has convinced me I can’t go on without the thing, whatever it may be. I wish this compulsion, for lack of a better description, could concern itself with matters less material; with preserving a feeling or a state of mind. Perhaps the reason this is not the case is because, as purveyors of the physical form, we have not yet mastered the intangible. I’m sure I can’t be sure. I do know, however, that my most recent case of impulsive spending resulted in the online purchase of several books by the late thinker, Christoper Hitchens, an episode that occurred after listening to his lectures for several hours while working (an episode, also, I won’t soon regret). The more I discover him, the more I admire his legacy, though any feelings of deepest adoration are inevitably met with equal feelings of regret for a future in which I will never meet him. I at least hope to become the sort of person who, if ever afforded the chance to interact with someone of Hitchens’ ilk, would know what to say, or, in some distant, exceptional reality, might be his equal in some regard. Just the thought of a reality in which I had, in my life, acquired the sort of company that could speak of me in the way these men speak of him seems so deliciously satisfactory, I am almost jealous. It seems, so much of the value in life is, as we are told, found in the ‘doing’– behind intention. Yet even now, in my early twenties, I catch hints of what I believe to be the truth of things- that the realest purpose may be found in the negative space; the pause before the point, the meandering tangent, the off topic exchange, the understanding of belief in an opposing argument.

Posted in WORLD

Don’t forget what you love


One of my absolute favorite lectures.

Posted in WORLD


When I was 9 my parents took me to my first Cirque Du Soleil performance, Quidam. I don’t recall ever being so moved by something in my entire life up to that moment. It wasn’t the show itself either, it was the music. Every human is hyper sensitive at the age of 9, but I seem to recall sound the most from that time… scent coming in at a close second.

This song still flows into my mind every now and then. It did a couple years ago, I was just singing something and a piece of it reminded me so distinctly of something else– it was the kind of sensation you have when you forget what you were going to say and you stop swimming around in your mind and just float, waiting for it to come back to you. Finally it came to me and I remembered the little girl, the star of the show and walks around singing, followed by an ominous, faceless character holding an umbrella the whole time. I then remembered the cassette tape my parents bought for me after the show. I found it hiding in a shoebox in my old room. I’ve never known why I have  such a inherent infatuation with various orchestral compositions and scores, but looking back, this show might have something to do with it.

It looks like it’s still touring… wait! Oh my god. I just googled it, and it opens TODAY in Colorado Springs, CO. !?!?!??!!!?! WTF. Although, it looks way different.



Posted in SOUND