Friday Night Flims

Hiroshima, Mon Amour concerns the experiences of a French actress (Emmanuelle Riva) who performs the role of a nurse in a film being shot in post-war Hiroshima. There she meets a Japanese man (Eiji Okada) and they become lovers. Using flashbacks intercut into the present day love story - the couple's meetings in hotel rooms, restaurants, etc. - the woman tells of her experiences during the Second World War in France, where she was involved with a young German soldier during the German occupation, and the consequences when the war came to an end. -Wikipedia

Directed by Alain Resnais



Bryan Ferry- Hiroshima [mp3]

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Non, Je ne regrette rien

because I was inspired by Marion


Non! Rien de rien ...
Non ! Je ne regrette rien
Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait
Ni le mal tout ça m'est bien égal !

Non ! Rien de rien ...
Non ! Je ne regrette rien...
C'est payé, balayé, oublié
Je me fous du passé!

Avec mes souvenirs
J'ai allumé le feu
Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs
Je n'ai plus besoin d'eux !

Balayés les amours
Et tous leurs trémolos
Balayés pour toujours
Je repars à zéro ...

Non ! Rien de rien ...
Non ! Je ne regrette nen ...
Ni le bien, qu'on m'a fait
Ni le mal, tout ça m'est bien égal !

Non ! Rien de rien ...
Non ! Je ne regrette rien ...
Car ma vie, car mes joies
Aujourd'hui, ça commence avec toi !

Edith Piaf- Non, Je ne regrette rien [download]


(and a translation)

No, no regrets
No, we will have no regrets
As you leave, I can say
Love was king, but for only a day

No, no regrets
No, let there be no regrets
Why explain
Why delay
Don't go away
Simply call it a day

Pleading moments we knew
I will set them apart
Ev'ry word, ev'ry sign
Will be burned in my heart
But no tears will be shed
There'll be no one to blame
Let it always be said
We attempted what came

No, no regrets
No, we will have no regrets
As you leave, I can say
Love was king, but for only a day

Life still goes on
Yes, even though love has gone
One last kiss
Shrug and sign
No Regrets even though it's goodbye

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David Blaine Is Really Creepy

But his magic is straight street, yo.
Here is “his” Street Magic 4

and in case you need to be reminded here are
David Blaine’s Street Magic 1

2

and 3


Stop it you demon!
ZaOza

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Une Môme Piaf

I wish I were Marion Cotillard or French or had such delicate beauty So I could say things like
"Thank you life, thank you love, and it is true there is some angels in this city."

and have Cate Blanchett become so excited

Or sing so beautifully in the press room


Or when asked backstage what it was like to win two such prestigious awards, the Cesar and Oscar in two days

respond,
"It feels so good! I'm totally overwhelmed with joy and sparkles and fire- works".

Ah… que magnifique, Marion, que magnifique

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The Origin of Love

As sung by Hedwig and the Angry Inch

The Origin of Love [download mp3]
Rufus Wainwright- The Origin of Love [download]
inspired by Aristophanes’ speech in Plato’s Symposium

Aristophanes professed to open another vein of discourse; he had a mind to praise Love in another way, unlike that of either Pausanias or Eryximachus. Mankind, he said, judging by their neglect of him, have never, as I think, at all understood the power of Love. For if they had understood him they would surely have built noble temples and altars, and offered solemn sacrifices in his honour; but this is not done, and most certainly ought to be done: since of all the gods he is the best friend of men, the helper and the healer of the ills which are the great impediment to the happiness of the race. I will try to describe his power to you, and you shall teach the rest of the world what I am teaching you.

In the first place, let me treat of the nature of man and what has happened to it. The original human nature was not like the present, but different. The sexes were not two as they are now, but originally three in number; there was man, woman, and the union of the two, of which the name survives but nothing else. Once it was a distinct kind, with a bodily shape and a name of its own, constituted by the union of the male and the female: but now only the word 'androgynous' is preserved, and that as a term of reproach.

In the second place, the primeval man was round, his back and sides forming a circle; and he had four hands and the same number of feet, one head with two faces, looking opposite ways, set on a round neck and precisely alike; also four ears, two privy members, and the remainder to correspond. He could walk upright as men now do, backwards or forwards as he pleased, and he could also roll over and over at a great pace, turning on his four hands and four feet, eight in all, like tumblers going over and over with their legs in the air; this was when he wanted to run fast.

Now the sexes were three, and such as I have described them; because the sun, moon, and earth are three; and the man was originally the child of the sun, the woman of the earth, and the man-woman of the moon, which is made up of sun and earth, and they were all round and moved round and round because they resembled their parents. Terrible was their might and strength, and the thoughts of their hearts were great, and they made an attack upon the gods; of them is told the tale of Otys and Ephialtes who, as Homer says, attempted to scale heaven, and would have laid hands upon the gods.

Doubt reigned in the celestial councils. Should they kill them and annihilate the race with thunderbolts, as they had done the giants, then there would be an end of the sacrifices and worship which men offered to them; but, on the other hand, the gods could not suffer their insolence to be unrestrained. At last, after a good deal of reflection, Zeus discovered a way.

He said: 'Methinks I have a plan which will enfeeble their strength and so extinguish their turbulence; men shall continue to exist, but I will cut them in two and then they will be diminished in strength and increased in numbers; this will have the advantage of making them more profitable to us. They shall walk upright on two legs, and if they continue insolent and will not be quiet, I will split them again and they shall hop about on a single leg.'

He spoke and cut men in two, like a sorb-apple which is halved for pickling, or as you might divide an egg with a hair; and as he cut them one after another, he bade Apollo give the face and the half of the neck a turn in order that man might contemplate the section of himself: he would thus learn a lesson of humility. Apollo was also bidden to heal their wounds and compose their forms. So he gave a turn to the face and pulled the skin from the sides all over that which in our language is called the belly, like the purses which draw tight, and he made one mouth at the centre, which he fastened in a knot (the same which is called the navel); he also moulded the breast and took out most of the wrinkles, much as a shoemaker might smooth leather upon a last; he left a few, however, in the region of the belly and navel, as a memorial of the primeval state.

After the division the two parts of man, each desiring his other half, came together, and throwing their arms about one another, entwined in mutual embraces, longing to grow into one, they began to die from hunger and self-neglect, because they did not like to do anything apart; and when one of the halves died and the other survived, the survivor sought another mate, man or woman as we call them,--being the sections of entire men or women,--and clung to that.

Thus they were being destroyed, when Zeus in pity invented a new plan: he turned the parts of generation round to the front, for this had not been always their position, and they sowed the seed no longer as hitherto like grasshoppers in the ground, but in one another; and after the transposition the male generated in the female in order that by the mutual embraces of man and woman they might breed, and the race might continue; or if man came to man they might be satisfied, and rest, and go their ways to the business of life. So ancient is the desire of one another which is implanted in us, reuniting our original nature, seeking to make one of two, and to heal the state of man.

Each of us when separated, having one side only, like a flat fish, is but the tally-half of a man, and he is always looking for his other half. Men who are a section of that double nature which was once called androgynous are lovers of women; adulterers are generally of this breed, and also adulterous women who lust after men. The women who are a section of the woman do not care for men, but have female attachments; the female companions are of this sort. But they who are a section of the male follow the male, and while they are young, being slices of the original man, they have affection for men and embrace them, and these are the best of boys and youths, because they have the most manly nature.

Some indeed assert that they are shameless, but this is not true; for they do not act thus from any want of shame, but because they are valiant and manly, and have a manly countenance, and they embrace that which is like them. And these when they grow up become our statesmen, and these only, which is a great proof of the truth of what I am saying. When they reach manhood they are lovers of youth, and are not naturally inclined to marry or beget children,--if at all, they do so only in obedience to custom; but they are satisfied if they may be allowed to live with one another unwedded;

And such a nature is prone to love and ready to return love, always embracing that which is akin to him. And when one of them meets with his other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy, and one will not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment: these are the people who pass their whole lives together, and yet they could not explain what they desire of one another. For the intense yearning which each of them has towards the other does not appear to be the desire of lover's intercourse, but of something else which the soul of either evidently desires and cannot tell, and of which she has only a dark and doubtful presentiment.

Suppose Hephaestus, with his instruments, to come to the pair who are lying side by side and to say to them, 'What do you mortals want of one another?'

They would be unable to explain. And suppose further, that when he saw their perplexity he said: 'Do you desire to be wholly one; always day and night in one another's company? for if this is what you desire, I am ready to melt and fuse you together, so that being two you shall become one, and while you live live a common life as if you were a single man, and after your death in the world below still be one departed soul, instead of two--I ask whether this is what you lovingly desire and whether you are satisfied to attain this?'--

There is not a man of them who when he heard the proposal would deny or would not acknowledge that this meeting and melting into one another, this becoming one instead of two, was the very expression of his ancient need.

And the reason is that human nature was originally one and we were a whole, and the desire and pursuit of the whole is called love. There was a time, I say, when we were one, but now because of the wickedness of mankind God has dispersed us, as the Arcadians were dispersed into villages by the Lacedaemonians. And if we are not obedient to the gods, there is a danger that we shall be split up again and go about in basso-relievo, like the profile figures showing only one half the nose which are sculptured on monuments, and that we shall be like tallies. Wherefore let us exhort all men to piety in all things, that we may avoid evil and obtain the good, taking Love for our leader and commander.

Let no one oppose him--he is the enemy of the gods who opposes him. For if we are friends of God and at peace with him we shall find our own true loves, which rarely happens in this world at present. I am serious, and therefore I must beg Eryximachus not to make fun or to find any allusion in what I am saying to Pausanias and Agathon, who, as I suspect, are both of the manly nature, and belong to the class which I have been describing. But my words have a wider application--they include men and women everywhere; and I believe that if our loves were perfectly accomplished, and each one returning to his primeval nature had his original true love, then our race would be happy. And if this would be best of all, the best in the next degree must in present circumstances be the nearest approach to such a union; and that will be the attainment of a congenial love.

Wherefore, if we would praise him who has given to us the benefit, we must praise the god Love, who is our greatest benefactor, both leading us in this life back to our own nature, and giving us high hopes for the future, for he promises that if we are pious, he will restore us to our original state, and heal us and make us happy and blessed.

This, Eryximachus, is my discourse of love, which, although different to yours, I must beg you to leave unassailed by the shafts of your ridicule, in order that each may have his turn; each, or rather either, for Agathon and Socrates are the only ones left.

à la française

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9:43

at some point in my life I really want to do this

The Louvre in 9:43 from Godard's Bande à part

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A Quick Question

so which was the dumber strategy (and eventual blunder): France's Maginot Line or Rudy's Florida Strategy?
[And at 7:22 p.m. pst John King of CNN reports that Giuliani to drop out of the race and endorse John McCain tomorrow in California. Sad, no not really]

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Hotel Chevalier

Because I was inadvertently reminded of it, I’ve never seen it and if I don’t post it now I’ll forget to ever do it, just like I forgot it ever existed for the last few months.
Written and Directed by Wes Anderson, starring Jason Schwartzman and Natalie Portman here is Hotel Chevalier

That was a pleasant enough interlude
but excepting for some decent dialogue on the bed most of the time I was focused on the lyrics to that song “Where Do You Go To (My Lovely) by Peter Sarstedt, which I had never heard before

You talk like Marlene Dietrich
And you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire
Your clothes are all made by Balmain
And there's diamonds and pearls in your hair

You live in a fancy appartement
Of the Boulevard of St. Michel
Where you keep your Rolling Stones records
And a friend of Sacha Distel

But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head

I've seen all your qualifications
You got from the Sorbonne
And the painting you stole from Picasso
Your loveliness goes on and on, yes it does

When you go on your summer vacation
You go to Juan-les-Pines
With your carefully designed topless swimsuit
You get an even suntan, on your back and on your legs

When the snow falls you're found in St. Moritz
With the others of the jet-set
And you sip your Napoleon Brandy
But you never get your lips wet

But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do

Your name is heard in high places
You know the Aga Khan
He sent you a racehorse for chistmas
And you keep it just for fun, for a laugh haha

They say that when you get married
It'll be to a millionaire
But they don't realize where you came from
And I wonder if they really care, they give a damn

But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head

I remember the back streets of Naples
Two children begging in rags
Both touched with a burning ambition
To shake off their lowly brown tags, yes they try

So look into my face Marie-Claire
And remember just who you are
Then go and forget me forever
'Cause I know you still bear
the scar, deep inside, yes you do

I know where you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
I know the thoughts that surround you
'Cause I can look inside your head

Peter Sarstedt- Where Do You Go To (My Lovely) [download] buy it on iTunes

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Forbidden Decadence/Ultimate Desire

I was on the Metro this morning headed to dance class and so as I tend to do to pass the time I was catching up on some podcasts that I ususally neglect until the weekend comes (and I laze around enough where I have time to just "listen" for like an hour.)
This morning I was listening to This American Life and I guess an episode from near Thanksgiving focusing on, I think poultry, anyway during the beginning when the episode is previewed there was a tease concernign the Third Act about a forbidden delicacy that Mitterand had as his "last meal." I was really intrigued but I never was able to get to that act and so was horribly distracted all during class (though you wouldn't have been able to tell since I am so amazing.)
I eventually made it back to my place and after a minimal amount of research (cough cough google) I discovered the ortolan and the more I read about it the more I decided that it would be my last meal as well. I'll post the information I found about it in a sec but for some reason I've always been a fan of ritual with my food or drink; it makes it seem more civilized to act in some traditional proscribed manner than to just stuff your face ( I kind of have issues with food and the idea of eating-eating seems so disgusting and animalistic and i would've hoped we would have moved or evolved some other way to deal with such necessitates. Of course that type of thinking led me to experiment with living just on vitamin supplements for like a week.) Also with the ortolan it just gives of the ear of something that would have been enjoyed in the court of the Sun King, that feel of nobility and eliteness as well as the fact it is illegal, as well as you drape a napkin over your head before eating appeals to my desire for gnosis in a way.

SO yeah here is what I found about the ultimate delicacy (besides the blood of a virgin, slightly chilled)

If guilt is a flavour, and it definitely is, then l'ortolan is one of
the world's greatest dishes. ….
The birds must be taken alive; once captured they are either blinded
or kept in a lightless box for a month to gorge on millet, grapes, and figs, a technique apparently taken from the decadent cooks of Imperial Rome who called the birds beccafico, or 'fig-pecker'. When they've reached four times their normal size, they're drowned in a snifter of Armagnac.

This sadistic mise en scene has transformed the bird from a symbol of innocence to an act of gluttony symbolic of the fall from grace. In
Collette's novel Gigi, for instance, the tomboyish main character
prepares for her entry into polite society with lessons in the correct
way to eat lobsters and boiled eggs. When she begins training to be a courtesan, however, she is said to be 'learning how to eat the
ortolan'.
Not that it was only courtesans who indulged. The tradition
of covering one's head while eating the bird was supposedly started by a soft-bellied priest trying to hide his sadistic gluttony from God.

Cooking l'ortolan is simplicity itself. Simply pop them in a high oven
for six to eight minutes and serve. The secret is entirely in the
eating. First you cover your head with a traditional embroidered
cloth. Then place the entire four-ounce bird into your mouth. Only its head should dangle out from between your lips. Bite off the head and discard. L'ortolan should be served immediately; it is meant to be so hot that you must rest it on your tongue while inhaling rapidlythrough your mouth. This cools the bird, but its real purpose is to force you to allow its ambrosial fat to cascade freely down your
throat.

When cool, begin to chew. It should take about 15 minutes to work your way through the breast and wings, the delicately crackling bones, and on to the inner organs. Enjoy with a good Bordeaux.

What could be more delicious? Nothing, according to initiates, who
compare the banning of the ortolan to the death of French culture and continue to eat them at the risk of being fined thousands of pounds.

How could you not want to try it after that. And in a way the idea of blinding them, stuffing them and then eating them whole seems like a fairy tale, like you're the Witch in Hansel & Gretel.

Mitterand's last meal not for the birds
Dying of cancer, Francois Mitterrand ordered a last meal of oysters,
foie gras, capons and a tiny, yellow-throated songbird that is illegal
to eat and said to embody the soul of France. Esquire writer Michael
Paterniti provides a detailed account of the former French president's meal on New Year's Eve 1995 in the magazine's May issue. Mitterand died eight days later. Two-ounce ortolan birds were roasted and served to 30 people –Mitterrand's friends and family – as he sat at a table wrapped in blankets, Paterniti reported. Paterniti said he flew to France after hearing the story of how Mitterrand "had gorged himself on one last orgiastic feast before he'd died." He interviewed some of the guests and found a chef willing to recreate the dinner, right down to the illegal birds, according to the magazine's publicist, Dan Klores Associates.
Taking cover under a white cloth napkin placed over his head – "which is meant to heighten the sensual experience by enveloping you in the aroma of ortolan" – Mitterrand took the illegal delicacy and ate it whole, bones and all, Paterniti said

[related]

The ortolan's most recent brush with fame came in 1998, when it was revealed to have been a pivotal course in former French President François Mitterand's last meal. A week before dying of cancer, Mitterand ordered a grand feast for 30 that included oysters, foie gras and a long row of two-ounce ortolans. By some accounts, Mitterand polished off two, bones and all.

BUT how does it taste, you might ask

Devotees claim they can taste the bird's entire life as they chew in the darkness: the wheat of Morocco, the salt air of the Mediterranean, the lavender of Provence. The pea-sized lungs and heart, saturated with Armagnac from its drowning, are said to burst in a liqueur-scented flower on the diner's tongue.

Mitterand’s last meal was recreated and consumed by a curious American writer, Michael Paterniti. Here is his description of eating ortolan:
Here’s what I taste: Yes, quidbits of meat and organs; the succulent, tiny strands of flesh between the ribs and tail. I put inside myself the last flowered bit of air and Armagnac in its lungs, the body of rainwater and berries. In there, too, is the ocean and Africa and the dip and plunge in a high wind. And the heart that bursts between my teeth. It takes time. I’m forced to chew and chew again and again, for what seems like three days. And what happens after chewing for this long--as the mouth full of taste buds and glands does its work—is that I fall into a trance. I don’t taste anything anymore, cease to exist as anything but taste itself.
And that’s where I want to stay--but then can’t because the sweetness of the bird is turning slightly bitter and the bones have announced themselves. When I think about forcing them down my throat, a wave of nausea passes through me. And that’s when, with great difficulty, I swallow everything.

Here is Jeremy Clarkson trying an ortolan though it should be noted he’s not following the exact ritual (y’know he had the head cut off and didn’t take 15 minutes and all though to be honest I have a problem with eating things with heads, like how certain fishes are served)

When eaten, you pick the bird up by its beak and then you shove the whole thing in your mouth and bite. You everything but the beak, which you put back in the now-empty ortolan frying pan (in which the bird was served).

Mr Simon, who considers himself fortunate to have savoured the delicacy on several occasions, was enthusiastic.

He said: "It’s absolutely delicious: rather crunchy, with the texture and flavour of hazelnuts.

"The bird is about the size of a young girl’s fist. Some people begin with the head, others start with the rear end – there are competing opinions on how best to enjoy them."

He admitted, however that eating an ortolan whole was "quite monstrous" to watch. "Hence the napkins."

Once it has been fattened on millet, the captured ortolan is drowned in armagnac, plucked, and stripped of its feet and a few other tiny parts.

After roasting in a ramekin for eight minutes, it is brought to the table while its pale yellow fat still sizzles, for the diner to take whole into his mouth.

It comes painfully hot, says one who has sampled the forbidden flesh - "but the first taste was delicious, salty and savoury, swiftly followed by the delicate, incomparable flavour of the fat.

"By now it had cooled sufficiently to allow me to get the whole thing into my mouth. It was awkward, but not the struggle I had imagined. I was aware of fine bones but resisted the urge to crunch them immediately.

"Still sucking fat, I was aware of the richer, gamier flavour of its innards. I had been dreading this but the flavour remained delicate. Crunching the bones was like munching sardines or hazelnuts. I chewed a long time. When I finally had to swallow, I regretted the end of a very sensual experience."

I really want to try it so much. And the idea of the napkin, whether it be because having someone who is eating something whole would be disgusting to watch, or if it is to capture all of the aroma, or that originally a monk draped himself to hide his decadence from god or that "It is really like you are praying, see?" Palladin apparently said. "Like when you take the Mass into your mouth from the priest's hand in church and you think about God" well anything that has the mystique of communing with god and at the same time as being something to hide from God means I may be spending a few years in France questing.
And I now know my grail

“Mitterrand sank his head into the napkin surrounding the cooked bird to breath in its aromas.

For the next 10 minutes his head stayed hidden as he ate his rich bird whole, crunching through its bones and innards, as is the custom. He then emerged "capsized with happiness, his eyes sparkling", according to M Benamou, and ready to face death”

He literally ate this and was ready and happy to die; could there be any higher endorsement?

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Because of Jane Birkin

While I was researching the last post I found out today is Jane Birkin's birthday and as my mind tends to do I immediately thought of the one song I knew of hers, the one sung with her lover Serge Gainsbourg that got condemned by the pope, the scandalous and infamous and oh so sexy "Je t'aime, moi non plus"

"In 1968 Gainsbourg had written "Je t'aime, moi non plus", an explicitly erotic song which he had recorded with Brigitte Bardot. After the pair's relationship had ended, Bardot begged Gainsbourg not to release the recording as a single and Gainsbourg, the perfect gentleman, respected her wishes. However, in 1969 Jane recorded the notorious
song as a duet with Gainsbourg and it appeared on the pair's joint album "Jane Birkin Serge Gainsbourg".

When "Je t'aime moi non plus" was released as a single later that year it caused an absolute scandal. Indeed, Gainsbourg's erotic lyrics and Jane's passionate whispering totally outraged public opinion. The international press attacked the song's "lewd" message, radios banned it from their playlists and the Vatican went so far as to issue a statement condemning the immoral nature of the song. In short, "Je t'aime moi non plus" benefited from a huge amount of free publicity and rocketed straight to the top of the charts, selling around a million copies in the space of just a few months. Needless to say, Gainsbourg and Birkin became the most scandalous couple of the year and their relationship became the subject of intense media scrutiny."

And for its time I could see how it could be that shocking. Since it is one of my favorite songs and it is Jane's birthday (mother of one of mt favorite actresses/singers) I thought I'd share it.


the lyrics in French

Je t'aime, je t'aime
oh, oui je t'aime!
moi non plus
oh, mon amour...
comme la vague irrésolu
je vais, je vais et je viens
entre tes reins
je vais et je viens
entre tes reins
et je me retiens

je t'aime, je t'aime
oh, oui je t'aime!
moi non plus
oh mon amour...
tu es la vague, moi l'île nue
tu va, tu va et tu viens
entre mes reins
tu vas et tu viens
entre mes reins
et je te rejoins

je t'aime, je t'aime
oh, oui je t'aime!
moi non plus
oh, mon amour...
comme la vague irrésolu
je vais, je vais et je viens
entre tes reins
je vais et je viens
entre tes reins
et je me retiens

tu va, tu va et tu viens
entre mes reins
tu vas et tu viens
entre mes reins
et je te rejoins

je t'aime, je t'aime
oh, oui je t'aime!
moi non plus
oh mon amour...
l'amour physique est sans issue
je vais, je vais et je viens
entre tes reins
je vais et je viens
et je me retiens
Non! Maintenant viens!

Anglais

I love you, I love you
Yes I love you
Me either

Oh my love
Skin to skin
Like the search of a way

I go, I go and I come (I come)
Between you (you)
I go and I come
Between you
And I retain myself (myself)

I love you, I love you
Oh yes I love you
Me either

Oh my love
You're the wave
Me the naked island

You go, you go and you come
Between me
You go and you come
Between me
Still I retain myself (myself)

I love you, I love you
Oh yes I love you
Me either

Oh my love
Skin to skin
Like the search of a way

I go, I go and I come (I come)
Between you (you)
I go and I come
Between you
And I retain myself (myself)

You go, you go and you come
Between me
You go and you come
Between me
Still I retain myself

I love you, I love you
Oh yes I love you
Me either

Oh my love
There is no tomorrow
Like the search of a way

I go, I go and you come
Between you
I go and I come
In between you
No don't stop, no

"I go and I come" get it?


Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin- Je t'aime... moi non plus [download]
Cat Power & Karen Elson- I Love You (Me Either) [download] buy it on iTunes

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Overheard in L.M.E.- The Origin of the Eternal L.M.E.

(taken from Pre-History and Creating a Society exposed in the earliest days of this site.)


(some names have been changed to protect the LME-orous ;)
a late night conversation in Europe; September 11, 2005)

ev livid e : are you just saying that because you pity me
a dam e : and one thing i know is the heart finds strange ways
a dam e : i pity very few people
a dam e : i'm far too much of a snob
ev livid e : i am too
ev livid e : elitists unite
a dam e : we should start a facebook group
a dam e : entitled what
ev livid e : can we just make it us two. because that would be very very elitist
a dam e : elitist unite
a dam e: or something like that
ev livid e : EU for short
ev livid e : no
ev livid e : thats too european
a dam e : yeah
a dam e : fuck that
ev livid e : hmmm.
ev livid e : lets call it
ev livid e : t.c.f.y.s.f.o.
a dam e : s.f.h.p.
ev livid e : ahah last time i tried to shorten something it looked really wrong
ev livid e : and i won't repeat it, but you know what i was talking about
a dam e : yeah
a dam e : dyk
ev livid e : a professor definitely walked behind me
-------------------------------------------------------------

]ev livid e: ah well ok fine. because you're in the eu aka tcfysfo
a dam e : exactly
a dam e : did you think of something snobby in french?
ev livid eno but i can make up something
a dam e : i wouldn't know the diff
ev livid e: versailles- thats snobby as shit
ev livid e: something relating to nobility
ev livid e: something hunt club
ev livid e : like boca, but french
a dam e : how do you say " better than you" in french?
ev livid e : meilleur que toi
ev livid e : thats too loong and reminds me of grammar
a dam e : Meileur
ev livid e : meilleur?
ev livid e : or pompidou? i like saying pompidou
a dam e : what is pompidou
ev livid e : the pompidou center?
a dam e : never heard of it
ev livid e : modern art, its a ridiculous looking building
ev livid e : ok ixnay that
a dam e : i hate modern art
ev livid e : i do too
ev livid e : ok this is not helping. whats something elite
ev livid e: elite food
a dam e : The Meliour {REDACTED}
a dam e : like a preppy elite {REDACTED} or something
ev livid e : meilleur
ev livid e: ahhh
ev livid e : Le Meilleur {REDACTED}
a dam e : i like something along those lines
ev livid e:i like it too
ev livid e: it should be written in cursive
a dam e : definetly
ev livid e: we should make a seal
a dam e : we should get it embroderied on sweaters>
ev livid e: i would so wear that sweater. what colors
a dam e : so would i
ev livid e: gold and dark red?
a dam e : hmm
ev livid e: or is that too gryffindor
a dam e : a bit too harry potter
ev livid e: gold and dark blue?
ev livid e: or too duke?
ev livid e: man, we need to invent our own colors
a dam e : we should investigate more but we're making progress
ev livid e: yes. at least we have a name, and we know how we're going to market ourselves a la sweaters and knit scarves too please?
a dam e : we don't need to market ourselves
ev livid e: true
a dam e : cuz we're too good to let anyone else buy in
ev livid e : exactly. so no one else can be in it? is this just us two?
ev livid e: if we let too many people in, it wouldn't be elite
ev livid e: it would be le shit school
a dam e : exactly
a dam e : wait check this
ev livid e: so its a secret?
a dam e : we'll wear the sweaters but if people ask
a dam e : we'll say " oh it's not for you too know"
a dam e : all snooty
ev livid e : ahaha!
a dam e : http://www.colourlovers.com
ev livid e: and you have to wave your hand off at them and stick your nose up
a dam e : that i can do
ev livid e: i am also good on stomping
ev livid e: as in making people feel little
ev livid e: i don't know why i typed stomping it made no sense. but its a fun word
a dam e : ev the crusher
ev livid e: we need something to be our mascot
ev livid e: we need something elite
ev livid e: whats elite
a dam e : peacock
ev livid e: a jaguar
a dam e : leopard
ev livid e: hmmm...i like these printed animals
ev livid e: i don't like birds
ev livid e: whats a badass elite animal
a dam e : i don't like ugly birds
ev livid e: me neither
a dam e : a bengal tiger
ev livid e: and nothing dead too like the dodo
a dam e : peacocks are pretty tho
ev livid e: (bythe way have you noticed how ridiclous this conversation is? i love it!)
a dam e : (this is why i love you ev!)
ev livid e: awww! heart! hugs!
ev livid e: actually no, that doesn't sound elite
ev livid e: how do you express such feelings in an elite manner?
a dam e : with reserved emotions and refrain
ev livid e: i tip my peacock embroidred cashmere knit cap at you
a dam e : like in a victorian novel
ev livid e: ic an't read. aha. yes i can. but i've never read a victorian novel
ev livid e: it sounds like too much lace
a dam e : very victorian refined and british
ev livid e: ooooh we don't have to be a {REDACTED}
ev livid e: we can be a chateau
ev livid e: wait that wouldn't relaly make sense. carry on
a dame e : yeah i still like {REDACTED}
ev livid e: maybe we can have diff colored sweaters for diff seasons>
a dam e : different fashions for different seasons
ev livid e: yes!
ev livid e: we should bring back ruffles
a dam e : umm
ev livid e: i don't know how, but i intend to finda way
ev livid e: oooh {REDACTED} thats a lovely lovely blue
ev livid e: we could do that and {REDACTED}
a dam e : that could work
ev livid e : its a very french/pastelly colour yes?
a dam e : which is sorta what we're going for
ev livid e: excellent.
ev livid e: so the sweater will be that color
ev livid e: what color pants?> white?
ev livid e: and in the usmmer
a dam e : what about after labor day?
ev livid e: i don't believe in that rule because we are elite
ev livid e: and we can do whatever we please>
a dam e : our theme is {REDACTED}
ev livid e: yes!
ev livid e: and we have hot swiss chocolate every morning at 10
a dam e : we'll base on fashion choices around that
a dam e : this is fabulous
ev livid e: i love this so much!
ev livid e: and we need a motto you know latin
a dam e : both things we can work on
ev livid e: something really badass snobby
a dam e :yeah, but at least we found a name
ev livid e: l_ m_ e_
ev livid e: can we have a mission statement that is different from a motto
ev livid e: and we need a seal. and a crest.
a dam e : a peacock is good cuz they're really proud animals
ev livid e: male peacock. the female peacock is brown
ev livid e: which clashes with our sweater colour choice
ev livid e: i like the pastel blue and silver a lot
a dam e : i guess peacock is only good for an all boys school
ev livid e: its so pastoral
ev livid e: its ok. it can be a gender confused peacock
a dam e : hahaha
ev livid e: oooh and we need a song
ev livid e: oh so much to do
ev livid e: and we need stationary
a dam e : a song?
ev livid e: hmmm, lets not write the song
a dam e : unless its an alma mater
a dam e : is the stationary going to be more cute or more official
ev livid e: official, the seal /crest will be on top: and it won't be lined
ev livid e: but it will have a watermark and we need business cards too
a dam e : of course
ev livid e: like american psycho
a dam e : hahah
ev livid e: we have a lot to do
ev livid e: and business card holders with our initials engraved. silver of course.
a dam e : we do indeed; i was happy with the sweaters
ev livid e: well i like doing the whole kit 'n kaboodle
a dam e : and i appreciate the vision
ev livid e: so we tell no one about this ok?
ev livid e: no one. not a soul. this is elite.
ev livid e: lite being the key word
a dam e : our lips are sealed
a dam e : no fat
ev livid e: because we are elite
ev livid e: as in elite modeling agency wants us
ev livid e: but we're too elite
a dam e : hahah; exactly
a dam e : our official drink will be a wine
ev livid e: a very old one that dates back to louis 14th
ev livid e: man, i didn't know creating a society would be so much work
a dam e : 'tis
a dam e : we have time
ev livid e: because we CONTROL time

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The Joys of Lesbian Lit

A few poems of Renée Vivien (a much cooler and prettier name than Pauline Mary Tarn)

Your Strange Hair

Your strange hair, cold light,
Has pale glows and blond dullness;
Your gaze has the blue of ether and waves;
Your gown has the chill of the breeze and the woods.

I burn the whiteness of your fingers with kisses.
The night air spreads the dust from many worlds.
Still I don't know anymore, in the heart of those deep nights,
How to see you with the passion of yesterday.

The moon grazed you with a slanted glow ...
It was terrible, like prophetic lightning
Revealing the hideous below your beauty.

I saw-as one sees a flower fade-
On your mouth, like summer auroras,
The withered smile of an old whore.


The Touch

The trees have kept some lingering sun in their branches,
Veiled like a woman, evoking another time,
The twilight passes, weeping. My fingers climb,
Trembling, provocative, the line of your haunches.

My ingenious fingers wait when they have found
The petal flesh beneath the robe they part.
How curious, complex, the touch, this subtle art--
As the dream of fragrance, the miracle of sound.

I follow slowly the graceful contours of your hips,
The curves of your shoulders, your neck, your upappeased breasts.
In your white voluptuousness my desire rests,
Swooning, refusing itself the kisses of your lips

Prolong the Night

Prolong the night, Goddess who sets us aflame!
Hold back from us the golden-sandalled dawn!
Already on the sea the first faint gleam
Of day is coming on.

Sleeping under your veils, protect us yet,
Having forgotten the cruelty day may give!
The wine of darkness, wine of the stars let
Overwhelm us with love!

Since no one knows what dawn will come,
Bearing the dismal future with its sorrows
In its hands, we tremble at full day, our dream
Fears all tomorrows.

Oh! keeping our hands on our still-closed eyes,
Let us vainly recall the joys that take flight!
Goddess who delights in the ruin of the rose,
Prolong the night!


Let the Dead Bury their Dead

Voici la nuit : je vais ensevelir mes morts,
Mes songes, mes désirs, mes douleurs, mes remords,
Tout le passé... je vais ensevelir mes morts.

J'ensevelis, parmi les sombres violettes,
Tes yeux, tes mains, ton front et tes lèvres muettes,
Ô toi qui dors parmi les sombres violettes !

J'emporte cet éclair dernier de ton regard...
Dans le choc de la vie et le heurt du hasard,
J'emporte ainsi la paix de ton dernier regard.

Je couvrirai d'encens, de roses et de roses,
La pâle chevelure et les paupières closes
D'un amour dont l'ardeur mourut parmi les roses.

Que s'élève vers moi l'âme froide des morts,
Abolissant en moi les craintes, les remords,
Et m'apportant la paix souriante des morts !

Que j'obtienne, dans un grand lit de violettes,
Cette immuable paix d'éternités muettes
Où meurt jusqu'à l'odeur des douces violettes !

Que se reflète, au fond de mon calme regard,
Un vaste crépuscule immobile et blafard !
Que diminue enfin l'ardeur de mon regard !
Mais que j'emporte aussi le souvenir des roses,
Lorsqu'on viendra poser sur mes paupières closes
Les lotus et les lys, les roses et les roses ! ...


(I really need to keep up with my French study. If you're more knowledgable than I here's a list of her works in French)

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The Joys of Lesbian Lit

Two Poems of Charlotte (Mary) Mew (November 15, 1869 – March 24, 1928)

On The Road to The Sea

We passed each other, turned and stopped for half an hour, then went our way,
I who make other women smile did not make you--
But no man can move mountains in a day.
So this hard thing is yet to do.

But first I want your life:--before I die I want to see
The world that lies behind the strangeness of your eyes,
There is nothing gay or green there for my gathering, it may be,
Yet on brown fields there lies
A haunting purple bloom: is there not something in grey skies
And in grey sea?
I want what world there is behind your eyes,
I want your life and you will not give it me.

Now, if I look, I see you walking down the years,
Young, and through August fields--a face, a thought, a swinging dream
perched on a stile--;
I would have liked (so vile we are!) to have taught you tears
But most to have made you smile.
To-day is not enough or yesterday: God sees it all--
Your length on sunny lawns, the wakeful rainy nights--; tell me--;
(how vain to ask), but it is not a question--just a call--;
Show me then, only your notched inches climbing up the garden wall,
I like you best when you are small.

Is this a stupid thing to say
Not having spent with you one day?
No matter; I shall never touch your hair
Or hear the little tick behind your breast,
Still it is there,
And as a flying bird
Brushes the branches where it may not rest
I have brushed your hand and heard
The child in you: I like that best
So small, so dark, so sweet; and were you also then too grave and wise?
Always I think. Then put your far off little hand in mine;--
Oh! let it rest;
I will not stare into the early world beyond the opening eyes,
Or vex or scare what I love best.
But I want your life before mine bleeds away--
Here--not in heavenly hereafters--soon,--
I want your smile this very afternoon,
(The last of all my vices, pleasant people used to say,
I wanted and I sometimes got--the Moon!)

You know, at dusk, the last bird's cry,
And round the house the flap of the bat's low flight,
Trees that go black against the sky
And then--how soon the night!

No shadow of you on any bright road again,
And at the darkening end of this--what voice? whose kiss? As if you'd say!
It is not I who have walked with you, it will not be I who take away
Peace, peace, my little handful of the gleaner's grain
From your reaped fields at the shut of day.

Peace! Would you not rather die
Reeling,--with all the cannons at your ear?
So, at least, would I,
And I may not be here
To-night, to-morrow morning or next year.
Still I will let you keep your life a little while,
See dear?
I have made you smile.


A Quoi Bon Dire

Seventeen years ago you said
Something that sounded like Good-bye;
And everybody thinks that you are dead,
But I.

So I, as I grow stiff and cold
To this and that say Good-bye too;
And everybody sees that I am old
But you.

And one fine morning in a sunny lane
Some boy and girl will meet and kiss and swear
That nobody can love their way again
While over there
You will have smiled, I shall have tossed your hair.


[found on Isle of Lesbos]

(i love smiles)

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What Duke is Doing Right Now

(besides drinking too much cheap beer of course)
i tried finding a youtube video of Tailgate at Duke, figuring there should be a few considering how many cameras are out there, when I stumbled upon this surprisingly entertaining work; Someone had a class project due...
La Legende du Tailgate a Duke!

(that tailgate was at the Navy game, which was a particular insane one because all the Navy kids just wanted to have a good time and as hosts we felt obliged to show them one. And p.s. still no one is sure who's truck that was, or why they didn't move it for tailgate.)
Yup that's how we roll at Duke, tailgate on saturday mornings get chased by our own personal Javert, hit Perkins, have deep discussions over white wine,eavesdrop on people making whoopie, help fashion victims and aspiring artists, steal chocolates as well as become mechanics for classic cars. Being a Duke student is an eventful life (and now I had no idea what she's saying; my french is infant level)

but when we (did) do make time to go to the games this is what we see


you do have to get up early to go but as senior Bill Parrish said in 2005 "In Life you have to carpe diem that shit. You sleep, you're dead." Truly a wise man.

And we're totally going to beat Va Tech today ( I think it's a good thing I'm not there to make any offensive comments.)

(the chase music a lot of the times was Ca Plane Pour Moi. Here's the Sonic Youth version[Sonic Youth-Ca Plane Pour Moi] because, why not?)

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Drink of the Week:Proust Edition

because I am the preeminent Proust scholar in America.
Anyway I saw that I think next weekend is Homecoming Weekend at Duke and people were excited about seeing each other again and at tailgate and so I got desperately nostalgic, desperate because I had no ideas for a cocktail for "drink of the week", and nostalgic because of boredom. Being nostalgic made my mind turn to a remembrance of things past or À la recherche du temps perdu (In Search of Lost Time) and from their to the idea of if Proust mentioned a cocktail recipe or if, in the subsequent decades, in elite literary dives a drink had been inspired by him and enjoyed by the intelligentsia
I didn't find anything that well known or popular but I did find an article by Alison Hallet reviewing the portland restaurant teno1 where her friend had "the Proust." Simply amazing- i love google sometimes.
Here are the ingredients- it being a drink prepared by a bar, i don't have the ratios but experimentation with drinks is the best form of alchemy (and if you know what the official recipe is, if you would send me an email I would love you forever :)
The Proust
cognac
grenadine
champagne
mint

But of course when you think of Marcel, as you obviously do, only one food comes to mind- the madeleine:
She sent for one of those squat, plump little cakes called "petites madeleines," which look as though they had been moulded in the fluted valve of a scallop shell. And soon, mechanically, dispirited after a dreary day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory - this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me it was me. I had ceased now to feel mediocre, contingent, mortal. Whence could it have come to me, this all-powerful joy? I sensed that it was connected with the taste of the tea and the cake, but that it infinitely transcended those savours, could, no, indeed, be of the same nature. Whence did it come? What did it mean? How could I seize and apprehend it?


so here's a recipe for madeleine cookies as well. I wouldn't recommend dipping it in the Proust-tea probably works much better

Madeleine Cookie Recipe
8 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
Pinch of salt
3 large eggs, at room temperature
2/3 cup sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1. In a small heavy saucepan, heat the butter over medium heat just until very light golden brown and fragrant, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and let cool until tepid.
2. In a small bowl, using a wire whisk, stir together the flour, baking powder and salt until well blended.
3. In bowl of electric mixer, beat the eggs and sugar at medium-high speed until the mixture has tripled in volume and forms a thick ribbon when the beaters are lifted. Lower the speed to medium and beat in the vanilla.
4. Using a large rubber spatula, fold the flour mixture into the beaten eggs in three additions. Fold in the cooled melted butter in three additions, then fold in the chocolate chips. Cover and refrigerate for 30 minutes, until slightly firm.
5. Position a rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 375 degrees.
6. Generously butter two, l2-mold Madeleine pans with 3-inch long depressions (available at Williams-Sonoma or other kitchen specialty stores). Using a pastry brush, paint the Madeline cups with a light coating of the browned butter and flour mixture, wiping any pools that form in the bottom of the molds; set aside (refrigerate in warm weather). Could spray pans with Bakers Joy instead.
7. Drop a generous tablespoonful of the batter into the center of each prepared mold, leaving the batter mounded in the center. (This will result in the typical "humped" appearance of the Madeleine.)
8. Bake the Madeleine for l2 to l5 minutes, until the edges are golden brown and the centers spring back when lightly touched. Batter will spread out to fill the cups, and will gradually swell up into a hump in the middle.
9. They are done when lightly browned around the edges, and when they begin to shrink very slightly from the molds. Remove the pans from the oven and rap each pan sharply against a countertop to release the Madeleine. Transfer the Madeleines, smooth sides up, to wire racks to cool.
10. When serving dust with confectioners sugar.

all you need for a great weekend-cookies and cognac.
salute.

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Well That was Frustrating

As you may have been able to tell I plan very little on this site. Such was the case with my las post and the "flowers" link- I had never actually seen that video or heard of the band until about an hour ago. But upon hearing it I thought the song reminded me of some song that I was positive I had on my computer. Of course I didn't actually know what song or the artist- all I knew was that it had a female vocal with the line "Of course you do" sung very melodically in maybe an indie or dream pop type song. But having spent the last full hour going through my library and thinking of every song that has a female band member, which was kind of surprising because usually I'm able to remember or at least kind of guess in the right area. But no matter. The song that sparked this quixotic quest is Flowers by Emilie Simon and I don't know if it's a solo artist or a band or anything about them besides the fact that I like this video ( it has a NightMare Before Christmas feel) and the song is the cutest little romantic song and I fell in love with it right away


Ok hopefully now I can maybe move on a little without (pulling my hair out and feeling like a failure because of),worrying over that mystery song
(but if you happen to know or have a guess about a song that kind of sounds like this one with that line "Of Course You Do," please let me know- I'll love you forever)

[UPDATE: Total Murphy's Law incident. 5 minutes after posting this I remembered: It's Ladytron's Jet Age (mp3) you can hear the kind of melodic haunting quality, yes? I feel sooo much better now :)]

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A Speech on What it Feels Like

This speech may be a little safe but after the disappointment of last week and fucking up Agrado's speech, I didn't want to get sad or feel worthless or let y'all down again (and technically I did already "give" a great speech this week.) It does fits my mood and current mindset more than anything else I have ready or can find easily though so that works. Plus my last two posts were really boyish- gotta restore balance.

Anyway this is from the film Cement Garden and I first heard it, as did the majority of people in thee intro to the Madonna song, "What it Feels Like for a Girl" which I was really excited about after hearing this speech included, but actually is a very pedestrian kind of bad song. Very disappointing (though the video was banned and kind of amusing). But it is a tremendous little scene and speech and one that I think is very true still, even in our "more enlightened" society. If you're a guy trying getting highlights put in wearing a flowery tank top and see how many looks you get-see you don't even need to; you know already the reaction:

"Girls can wear jeans
And cut their hair short
Wear shirts and boots
'Cause it's OK to be a boy
But for a boy to look like a girl is degrading
'Cause you think that being a girl is degrading
But secretly you'd love to know what it's like
Wouldn't you"
What it feels like for a girl

Oh and get well soon Charlotte (Gainesbourg;) you have too much beauty to leave so soon.

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Overheard in L.M.E.- Placing Blame

From the 18th of February. Context may be lost (though I think it may be about Britney Crazy Spears

ev livid e (i love van gogh. such emotional and powerful paintings!)
a dam e: (hahah)
a dam e: indeed
ev livid e: the family is "in major intervention mode. Her mom is constantly crying. Her family is freaking out."
ev livid e: oh dear :-(
ev livid e: bad parenting
ev livid e: ]:O
ev livid e: I want to be like Gandhi and Martin Luther King and John Lennon — but I want to stay alive.
-Madonna
ev livid e: just found that quote. how awesome...ish
a dam e: yup
a dam e: she's so out of her mind
ev livid e: which is precisely why im doing my brain training project right now
ev livid e: so i won't end up like her or britney
ev livid e: hmm...maybe after britney kissed madonna, she transferred her crazy germs over
a dam e: i blame justin
ev livid e: i blame isaac cohen
a dam e: i blame christina
ev livid e: i blame jayden james
a dam e: i blame walt disney

Auto response from ev livid e: reading
ev livid e: i blame louisiana BUT not the french
a dam e: i blame the napoleonic code
ev livid e: (ps i like this new thought process...think locally, act globally)
ev livid e: i blame bridget bardot
ev livid e: (but NOT the french)
a dam e: i blame jean-luc godard
ev livid e: i blame the american film industry
a dam e: i blame celluloid
ev livid e: i blame follicles
a dam e: i blame melatonin
ev livid e: i blame the sun
a dam e: i blame the big bang
ev livid e: (how mindblowing is that. i just went from follicles to the sun!)
ev livid e: the tiniest of things to the largest!
a dam e: was a bit of a leap
ev livid e: i blame the public
a dam e: i blame the private
ev livid e: i blame curiosity
ev livid e: (concrete--->abstract. im so fucking awesome)
a dam e: i blame envy
ev livid e: i blame vanity
a dam e: i blame lust
ev livid e: i blame paris (hilton) (but NOT france!)
a dam e: i blame conrad hilton (her granddad)
ev livid e: i blame hospitality
a dam e: i blame compassion
ev livid e: i blame technology
a dam e: i blame intellectual pursuits

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Your Simply Amazing Stuck in My Head Song of the Day

This song somehow came on twice over the course of today, even though it seems like the odds would be well against it, so I'm taking it as a sign. The second time it came on, about 5 and half a minutes ago it actually helped to calm me down and settle me because for the last few hours I've not been in a happy place (thoughts of failure; yay mood swings.ugh) But this song is so beautiful it reminds me of what I believe a french countryside would sound like and the music echoes and captures the water cascading that I'm sure would be present on Cascade Street. Oh yeah I haven't mentioned it yet but your simply amazing stuck in my head song of the day is Rue des Cascades by Yann Tiersen.
Everlyn, my esteemed co-founder and resident sex goddess of LME first gave me this song and I will always have to thank her for that. The first few times I listened to it I was so captivated by the music and instrumentation that I thought the song was in French (it's not.at least this version. obviously) But once I learned better the words really enhance the experience. The lyrics are simple,but I don' think I need to point out the complexity they can hold, and I don't want to because those feelings would be necessarily different from my own, and I don't think I can articulate mine right now.

When I'm asleep in Cascade Street
When I'm asleep in Cascade Street
I don't, I don't
See anything

When I'm asleep in Cascade Street
When I'm asleep in Cascade Street
I hear, I hear
Nothing, nothing

In the cascade, in the cascade
You washed me

When I wake up in Cascade Street
When I wake up in Cascade Street
I feel nothing
I feel nothing

When I'm asleep in Cascade Street
When I'm asleep in Cascade Street
I don't remember
I don't remember

In the cascade, in the cascade
You washed me

When I wake up in Cascade Street
When I wake up in Cascade Street
I feel nothing
I feel nothing

In the cascade, in the cascade
You washed me

Yann Tiersen's "Rue des Cascades." Such a beautiful beautiful ethereal work. I could float away on her voice (and I think I may to the land of slumber; I am exhausted) As for you? enjoy this live version (the accordion is awesome):

Today was a very long day. Let's see how tomorrow turns out; shall we?
Yann Tiersen- Rue des Cascades (mp3)

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Overheard in L.M.E.- Intolerance*

*its not just a Tool song or D.W. Griffith film
from an afternoon in Durham on th 10th of October of the year past

ev livid e: its going to be a crazy season. and hottttt dougray scott's in it!
a dam e: im not sure who that is
a dam e: previous roles...go!
ev livid e: ever after
ev livid e: he was the prince
ev livid e: thats all that matters
ev livid e: he was hottt
a dam e: thats what i thought
ev livid e: he was in some other sci fi crap, not impo
a dam e: and also the bad guy in mission impossible 2
ev livid e: haven't seen any of the mi's yet
ev livid e: i don't like tom cruise
ev livid e: i do know emmanuelle beart is in 2
ev livid e: mi 2
a dam e: im sure you did at some point
ev livid e: nope
ev livid e: i actually haven't
ev livid e: i will only see mi2
a dam e: the first one came out 190 years ago
a dam e: 10
a dam e: not 190
ev livid e: ahaha
ev livid e: i can promise i haven't seen it
ev livid e: i know the them e song. thats it
a dam e: we'll see
ev livid e: whaqt do you mean w'ell see? i know that i haven't seen any of them!
a dam e: we'll see when we play never have i ever after like 15 erica chang's
ev livid e: ahaha
ev livid e: why yht hell would i hide the fact that i've seen mi?
a dam e: your intolerance of scientology
a dam e: bigot
ev livid e: what?!
a dam e: yup
ev livid e: just because i don't support scientology does not mean that i hide my knowledge
ev livid e: you should know me by know.
ev livid e: you west coast people
a dam e: you don't want to admit you once supported and liked a scientologist at any pooint
a dam e: just like hitler and his jewish granddad
ev livid e: i honestly never liked tom cruise
ev livid e: WHAT?!!
ev livid e: don't drag hitler into this!
a dam e: a few good men
ev livid e: and i never likd john travolta
ev livid e: are you a scientologist
ev livid e: he wasn't in it
a dam e: no but i bet you like a scientologist
a dam e: jenna elfman?
ev livid e: hahaha NO!
a dam e: stacy who zak dated at the beach on saved by the bell
a dam e: giovanni ribisi
a dam e: beck!
ev livid e: nope. i was a tiffani thiessen fan
ev livid e: i don't like beck
ev livid e: i don't like italians
a dam e: beck isn't italian
ev livid e: giovanni is
a dam e: so you hate a person because of their nationaity?
a dam e: their heritage?
ev livid e: i don't hate the person. i just prefer the french
a dam e: vichy
ev livid e preference does not draw upon emotions of hate
ev livid e: exactly. spas!
a dam e: wow
a dam e: frau chang
a dam e: german. i don't like german
a dam e: tis okay
ev livid e i wasn't apologizing!
a dam e: its fine sweetheart
ev livid e: what?
a dam e: your racism
ev livid e: its not racism. its patriotism
a dam e: and your subsequent apology
ev livid e: i am never apologizing for my love of france
ev livid e: again, its all preference, not hate
a dam e: you were apologizing for hating germans
a dam e: and its ok
ev livid e: what?!
ev livid e: don't make me angry
a dam e: surrender to your emotions
ev livid e: i have no emotions
a dam e: no, surrender and be french
a dam e: oly germans are emotionless
ev livid e: by surrender, you mean love
a dam e: so thats why the french always surrender
a dam e: they think its a sign of love
ev livid e: its all about kumbaya
ev livid e: not like germany's stomp shoot stomp
a dam e: exactly
ev livid e: i don't like how you're agreeing with me. this is not good.
ev livid e: take it back
a dam e: why
ev livid e: because we are team disunity!
a dam e: everyone hates germany
ev livid e: i don't hate germany
a dam e: only when we paly beirut (hint hint) and you make me drink for you
ev livid e: i liked cologne when i visited, and the beer/meat hall my fam went to
a dam e: hate germans
ev livid e: [REDACTED]'s ancestors are german
a dam e: yeah she hates them too
ev livid e: oh dear
ev livid e: that is not good family dynamics
a dam e: germans are not lovable people
a dam e: just listen to their language
ev livid e: bratwurst sauerkraut
ev livid e that sounds delicious to me
ev livid e: (just the first part)
a dam e: trust me; germans " i love you" sounds like "death to the subhumans"


(and yes I have realized that one of the pseudonyms "a dam e" if it is respaced is the first name and initital (sp) of a guy I had a crush on but that was not the intent at all, i was going more for spacing like "a dame", but whatevs...)

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