73.

Lately when listening to music i keep finding myself composing imaginary mixtapes, be it about things, with a theme, to describe a point in my life or for people. All i keep doing is thinking, yes this one definitely. I think of getting out my blank tapes, sitting there with the cd’s, records, mp3′s and meticulously putting together these aural scrapbooks for you to sink into, i would even draw a paper cover, cut and paste the lyrics and maybe a book  of things to accompany the music. Then i take a breath and think, what if i put the songs in the wrong order, miss one out, find one even better too late to add. How will i collect all those little melodies and find them in time to pin them down on the one tape. Do you have a tape player? Will you get all i am trying to say through everyone elses words because my voice isn’t brave enough to speak them in my own awkward way. I watch High Fidelity, and i get even more confused about the rules of a mix tape, i think mine could never be good enough, just some childish attempt at showing i care, and how can you expect one reel of tape to hold all that you can’t. Now i am just going in over thinking circles about something that is essentially just not that big a deal in the grand scheme of things. I’ve lost the train of verbal vomit so here are just a couple of songs i wish i could have locked down on a tape i was coming up with the other day….

Sarah Blasko – For You [the song that started it all off]
I’ve learnt a lot about you
In turn much about me too
I travelled across the sea
I wept for you

Emotions run deep
Between us friend
The time will come
For us again

We’re tired, we’re tired now
This ship almost ran a ground
We’ll lie and rest now
I’ll dream of you

Emotions run deep
Between good friends
But I do believe
In us again

I’ve heard, I’ve heard it said
That love, real love has no end
A cup overflowing now
I will believe, I must believe

Florence and The Machine – Drumming Song [mistaken stumble amazed me]

There’s a drumming noise inside my head
That starts when you’re around
I swear that you could hear it
It makes such an all mighty sound

There’s a drumming noise inside my head
That throws me to the ground
I swear that you should hear it
It makes such an all mighty sound

Louder than sirens
Louder than bells
Sweeter than heaven
And hotter than hell

I ran to a tower where the church bells chime
I hoped that they would clear my mind
They left a ringing in my ear
But that drum’s beating loud and clear

Louder than sirens
Louder than bells
Sweeter than heaven
And hotter than hell

Louder than sirens
Louder than bells
Sweeter than heaven
And hotter than hell

Louder than sirens
Louder than bells
Sweeter than heaven
And hotter than hell

As I move my feet towards your body
I can hear this beat it fills my head up
And gets louder and louder
It fills my head up and gets louder and louder

I run to the river and dive straight in
I pray that the water will drown out the din
But as the water fills my mouth
It couldn’t wash the echoes out
But as the water fills my mouth
It couldn’t wash the echoes out

I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole
Till there’s nothing left inside my soul
As empty as that beating drum
But the sound has just begun

As I move my feet towards your body
I can hear this beat it fills my head up
And gets louder and louder
It fills my head up and gets louder and louder

There’s a drumming noise inside my head
That starts when you’re around
I swear that you could hear it
It makes such an all mighty sound

There’s a drumming noise inside my head
That starts when you’re around
I swear that you could hear it
It makes such an all mighty sound

Louder than sirens
Louder than bells
Sweeter than heaven
And hotter than hell

Louder than sirens
Louder than bells
Sweeter than heaven
And hotter than hell

As I move my feet towards your body
I can hear this beat it fills my head up
And gets louder and louder
It fills my head up and gets louder and louder

Death Cab For Cutie – I Will Possess Your Heart [creepy stalker song maybe? beautifully sounding though]

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.

You gotta spend some time, Love.
You gotta spend some time with me.
And I know that you’ll find, love
I will possess your heart.
You gotta spend some time, Love.
You gotta spend some time with me.
And I know that you’ll find, love
I will possess your heart.

There are days when outside your window
I see my reflection as I slowly pass,
and I long for this mirrored perspective
when we’ll be lovers, lovers at last.

You gotta spend some time, Love.
You gotta spend some time with me.
And I know that you’ll find, love
I will possess your heart.
You gotta spend some time, Love.
You gotta spend some time with me.
And I know that you’ll find, love
I will possess your heart.
I will possess your heart.
I will possess your heart.

You reject my… advances… and desperate pleas…
I won’t let you… let me down… so easily.
So easily.

You gotta spend some time, Love.
You gotta spend some time with me.
And I know that you’ll find, love
I will possess your heart.
You gotta spend some time, Love.
You gotta spend some time with me.
And I know that you’ll find, love
I will possess your heart.
You gotta spend some time, Love.
You gotta spend some time with me.
And I know that you’ll find, love
I will possess your heart.
I will possess your heart.
I will possess your heart.

These next three i just couldn’t choose between, i am sure at a later date i could as i feel it is not right to have more than the one song per band, however how to choose….

Bright Eyes – False Advertising

On a string I was held.
The way that I move, can you tell?
My actions are orchestrated from above.
So I swing and I sway.
Wave my hand. Kick my leg.
And it is always right with the music.
“Until all that swaying starts to make you sick”
For a song I was bought.
Now I lie when I talk with a careful eye on the cue card.
Onto a stage, I was pushed with my sorrow well rehearsed.
So give me all your pity and your money. Now.
“We used to think that sound was something pure”
If I could act like this was my real life and not some cage where I’ve been placed,
then, I could tell you the truth like I used to and not be afraid of sounding fake.
Now all that anyone is listening for are the mistakes.
In a house, by myself, I hear the ice start to melt and watch rooftops weep for the sunlight.
And I know what must change. Fuck my face. Fuck my name.
They are brief and false advertisements for a soul I don’t have.
Something true I have lacked and spent my whole life trying to make up for.
But I found in a song and in the people I love.
They will lift me up out of darkness.
Now my door stands open. I am inviting everyone in.
We’re gonna laugh, we’re gonna drink until the morning comes.
That is what we are going to do.

Bright Eyes – Bowl Of Oranges

The rain, it started tapping on the window near my bed. There was a loophole in my dreaming,
so I got out of it. And to my surprise my eyes were wide and already open.
Just my nightstand and my dresser where those nightmares had just been.
So I dressed myself and left then, out into the gray streets.
But everything seemed different and completely new to me.
The sky, the trees, houses, buildings, even my own body.
And each person I encountered, I couldn’t wait to meet.
I came upon a doctor who appeared in quite poor health.
I said “{I am terribly sorry but} there is nothing I can do for you
{that} you can’t do for yourself.”
He said “Oh yes you can. Just hold my hand. I think that would help.”
So I sat with him a while and then I asked him how he felt.
He said, “I think I’m cured. No, in fact, I’m sure.
Thank you Stranger, for your therapeutic smile.”
So that is how I learned the lesson that everyone is alone.
And your eyes must do some raining if you are ever going to grow.
But when crying don’t help and you can’t compose yourself.
It is best to compose a poem, an honest verse of longing or simple song of hope.
That is why I’m singing…
Baby don’t worry cause now I got your back. And every time you feel like crying,
I’m gonna try and make you laugh. And if I can’t, if it just hurts too bad,
then we will wait for it to pass and I will keep you company
through those days so long and black.
And we’ll keep working on the problem we know we’ll never solve
Of Love’s uneven remainders, our lives are fractions of a whole.
But if the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall.
Then I think we would see the beauty.
Then we would stand staring in awe at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges,
like a story told by the fault lines and the soil.

Bright Eyes – You Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will

Well you say that I treat you like a book on a shelf.
I don’t take you out that often ’cause I know that I’ve completed you
and that’s why you are here.
That is the reason you stay here.
How awful that must feel.
You said you would be my dream. I could have you every night
and if, by morning, I had forgotten you, well, no big deal, it would be all right
’cause you are the reoccurring kind.
You are the reoccurring kind.
You never really leave my mind.
Are you the love of my lifetime? ‘Cause there have been times I have had my doubts.
We were just kids when I first kissed you in the attic of my parents house,
and I wish we were there now.
It took so long to figure out
what this book has been about.
Now I write when I’m away letters that you never read.
You said go to explore those other women,
the geography of their bodies
but there is just one map you’ll need.
You are a boomerang. You’ll see.
You will return to me.
You will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will.
You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will.
‘Cause if you don’t, then this book is all lies.
If you don’t, then my plans would all be ruined.
If you don’t, I’ll start drinking like the way I drank before.
And I just wont have a future anymore.
Clearly i would make the creepiest stalker type mixes that you would find in your letterbox and think, “is some one watching me, are they crazy” or maybe it’s just those songs lately, and i am sure many more to come. 

milk+apples

 

.62

More images than words, more lust then love, more me than you, more or less, less or more, more trying to forget then forgive, more butterflies.

Milk and apples

.42

“when you’re 21 you’re no fun”

milk and apples

.30

 

 

more to come. then no more

milk and apples.

.22

a brain that never stops ticking / sometimes an on-off switch would sure come in handy / a mind that’s constantly cutting up and dissecting / looking for answers committing murders along the way

is it the red wire or the blue wire / just pick one and cut / it just doesn’t matter anymore / or did it ever / cause I could never control when the bomb would explode

milk and apples

18.

fuck fuck fuck

milk and apples

14.

Jawbreaker News

Body:

Hey, just a quick update on what’s going on in the Jawbreaker world… The last bulletin I posted mentioned the Unfun remaster. I am goingback down to LA this weekend to do it again. Therewere “flutters” in that firstpass, whichis a techie way of saying that gummy leader tape splices between the songs made the beginnings and endings sound like they had been drinking, whichis a longwindedway of saying that it was fucked up, though no faultof the Man Himself John Golden. Unfun will be available online throughthe usual ders and in stores in early 2009 on Blackball Records. Extras will include the 7″ mix of Busy and alternate mixes of Want and Fine Day. The CD and LP will be available exclusively at Hot Topic for the firstfew months of release, and then will go out to the mom and pops. Hot Topic, you ask? I said it. They have been incredibly supportive these past few years, stocking our records and shirts in all of their stores. Jawbreakerswag doesn’t make it into a lot of national chains, so I’m happy that it’s out there wherekids can get to it. They recently added Etc. (the b-sides, singles and out-takescompilation with Kiss the Bottle). So if you happen to live out in the boonies, or your indie storejust bit the dust of the download revolution, and you stilllike having somethingin your handsto peruse– theycarry our stuff. And while you’re at the mall, why not visitStarbucks for a refreshing caffeinated beverage, and perhaps pick up a pair of pleated khaki slacks at the Gap? Ah, that’s better… A lot of the myspace people are asking me aboutthe status of the documentary that Tim Irwinand Keith Schieron (We Jam Econo: The Storyof the Minutemen)are making. I’d say they are halfway there. Like I said before, these guys have real jobs (and a new kid– congrats, Keith!) and are making this movie catch-as-catch-can on their own dime, to mix idioms. We just got copies of the Dear You masters and they are goingto interview Rob Cavallo next and have him go through a couple of songs. Whichbrings me to sad news.Jerry Finn,our friend who mixedDear You, passed away last month. I do not feel qualified to eulogize Jerry– we worked with him all too briefly back in 1995.But our time was intimate, and we kept in touch via email over the years. I consideredhim a friend and ally.The last time we were in contact I begged him to be in our movie. But Jerry wasn’t comfortable patting himself on the back in an on camera interview. I thinkhe was content to let the musicdo the talking, as it were. That’s a smooth character right there. Or maybe he just didn’t want to give up any of his studio secrets (I’ll divulge one here:to keep morale up, when greeting the stillreeling from signing to a major labelband, say, “Hey, Little Fighters!” That’ll do the trick.) So the next time you hear a song made in the last fifteen years that punches you in the stomach whilekissingyou on the lips,you have Jerry Finn to thank. I don’t like to speakfor my fellow Jbs. I‘ll hand it over to Blake and send a Chrisupdate when I hear from him… A Note/Update from BlakeSchwarzenbach: Because I am bad at speaking aboutmyself but excelat projectingmy identity onto others and then destroying them I will be brief. I am currently defending my master’s thesis at Hunter College in Manhattan,making musicin an as yet unnamed group, and fighting with wordson Facebook (it’s an all ages page,meaning you don’thave to be a ‘friend’ to read it; although I thinkyou do need an account, whichis free and relatively non-invasive. Come on by!) My thesis is on PercyBysshe Shelley, who appears to have gotten almost everything rightand paid dearly for it. The paper focuses on Shelley’s technique of pushing metaphor untilall connection between sign and signified is shattered and either somenew truth declares itself or a sublime vacuum opensup and we are confronted with the void.Exciting stuff, I assure you, especiallywhen one considers that he was a fiercely principled Republican(in the 18th century meaning of the term:friend of suffrage and the French Revolution, foe of monarchy and moneyed interests), an atheist, a vegetarian, and a wild-eyed beauty in verse. What’s not to celebrate? Well,as it happens, he was universally ignored, reviled, humiliated or suppressed and died in exile. So, this is what I devote my academic energies to, whichbrings into even starker relief the historicallyblind trammelingand dismemberment of the U.S. constitution that has gone on these past eight years. Musically, and I think maybe I can speakmore clearly about this,I feel as though I am emergingfrom a kind of muted, reflective nuclear winter. It’s awkward to talk about one’s own musicsince that is what we ask the music to do; so I’ll say only that it meets my own inner-standardof truth. I believe in it enough to overcomemy own fear of making it. Hopefully we’llfind a bassist (a woman, over 30, who ridesa bike and can resolve any dictionary disputes that mightarise between the drummer and myself) and come to a town near you. Finally, thankyou friends and enthusiasts of Jawbreaker. We did this thingfor a long time in the dark – as all bandsmust – and it is gratifyingto hear of younger people findingthe band and getting it. The goal was always to connect with others and that seemsto have happened so I think we can all claimsuccess in that project. Kind regards, Blake

 

 

 

Milk and Apples

.1

I’m not sure why this is here, why i started it, what it is, who will see it. It exists, and i know what it is not. It is not something that will detail my life, not a mirror of a live journal or written journal. Just a scrap book no doubt of pictures, oddities, lyrics and anything else worth mentioning. I’m not so eloquent in my delivery, nor do i come across overly intellectual. That isn’t my aim either. Sounds stupid already.

Lady In The Water

milk and apples