tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67601422195254457752024-02-07T00:33:55.133-05:00Zana - DOportraits in words,
audible heartbeatsUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger175125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-91748842344297120722010-12-02T10:41:00.007-05:002010-12-02T23:48:55.838-05:00It only takes a few words..I have been reminded lately just how powerful our words can be. What we speak to ourselves internally and what we allow escape our mouths into the ether has flight, holds weight. Fear and negativity - when ingested, projected, indulged - only foster more of the same. Positive thoughts and energy - when nurtured - regenerate in a similar manner, but they're undeniably more pleasurable to spread and therefore more powerful than any bile-filled, downtrodden pejorative. <br /><br />It's such a simple, almost quaint idea. One that's shown itself true in my life time after time, but one that can be hard to live by in the muck of the day to day. When I need a reminder I choose and repeat a mantra, an inspirational phrase spoken in the present tense that's calibrated to bring about positive change. The ones that have been on my tongue for years are still potent but I've needed new fodder. This phrase, delivered by a friend this morning in a timely email, is just right :<br /><br />"You, my dear, are not a fearful woman. You are full of light and hope and love.<br /><br />I'll accept that and I'll repeat it, again and again. Thank you for lighting up my morning, Friend, for giving me a new tool with which to keep dreaming and stretching and growing.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-2916699205768096022010-11-21T12:13:00.004-05:002010-11-21T12:18:30.477-05:00Love sounds good......in any language ...<br /><br />i am love<br />i am love<br />i am love<br />uncover me<br /><br />je suis l'amour<br />je suis l'amour<br />je suis l'amour<br />découvre-moi<br /><br />yo soy amor<br />yo soy amor<br />yo soy amor<br />descúbreme<br /><br />io sono l'amore<br />io sono l'amore<br />io sono l'amore<br />scopra meUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-7411555928402389692010-10-24T12:51:00.016-04:002010-10-24T13:59:52.710-04:00Electric Wire HustleLast night I had the pleasure of seeing <a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);" href="http://electricwirehustle.com/">Electric Wire Hustle</a>, a neo soul group out of New Zealand, at an intimate loft party in Brooklyn. I'd admittedly never met anyone from that part of the world before, but I wasn't expecting so much soul and swagger. <br /><br />Their sound amply fits into a genre I call "journey music" - the type that lays an intoxicating base and forces you to be in the moment with it, almost as if in a trance. And in that moment you're loose to feel whatever emotion, memory, or real-time interaction you might be having - fully and freely. Its tone creates a sacred space.<br /><br />Here's one of my favorites tracks ...<br /><br /><object width="425" height="264"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/R7fairoRA48?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/R7fairoRA48?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="264"></embed></object><br /><br />Last night I smiled slyly to the lyrics, "chew on the thing, sexy style" ... though, in the sober light of Sunday morning, I think he might be saying "do her own thing, sense of style." (smile) Both are nice, you decide...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-61776414423597366462010-10-23T10:16:00.006-04:002010-10-23T15:10:35.108-04:00Cubierta de AmorI've felt a creative block for some weeks now, unable to produce anything I feel worth sharing. This morning I awoke with this song in my throat, an original composition, by me. I don't know where it came from. It's melody and words formed out of nowhere, as if they'd been trapped in my vocal chords, in my heart, for some time now and got tired of waiting for me to recognize and release them. I decided to record this moment on my iphone, my voice trembling, a combination of morning grog and antsy anticipation at what'd escape me next. I felt that something larger than me was taking place, being released, which both scared and intrigued me. Perhaps my hang-up, my block, the insecurity that's crippled my creativity as of late.<br /><br />I listen now, happy with some sections, critical of myself in others. It is raw, very raw and I am absolutely terrified to share it here. But I will, I am, in the spirit of pushing through, of letting go of hang-ups, of passing through this moment of creative mush. In acknowledgment that not everything can be perfect, pristine. That sometimes the beauty is in the vulnerability. <br /><br />Because I sing this phrase the most, the title of my tune is "Cubierta de Amor" (Covered in Love)...<br /><br /><object height="81" width="100%"> <param name="movie" value="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F6338877%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-1Rtx9&show_comments=true&auto_play=false&color=0eff61"></param> <param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param> <embed allowscriptaccess="always" height="81" src="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F6338877%3Fsecret_token%3Ds-1Rtx9&show_comments=true&auto_play=false&color=0eff61" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%"></embed> </object> <span><a href="http://soundcloud.com/zana-do/cubierta-de-amor/s-1Rtx9">Cubierta de Amor</a> by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/zana-do">Zana-DO</a></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-85614856612184762462010-10-12T10:53:00.006-04:002010-10-12T13:56:21.538-04:00untitled<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEDYgGhLEqNf3q_r-RPrig1du7dsZGaOWZmjMFUJFX2J5YNB5s3MBZaZlMKR6r0Nc1LpeYmJLduOhA6Dg1UqkfzRLaUfFuS1OhWUWXc38HuvazlJVeTyl-X5UNEV9d8WE_oyDjKSoSgk8/s1600/Picture+5.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 397px; height: 397px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEDYgGhLEqNf3q_r-RPrig1du7dsZGaOWZmjMFUJFX2J5YNB5s3MBZaZlMKR6r0Nc1LpeYmJLduOhA6Dg1UqkfzRLaUfFuS1OhWUWXc38HuvazlJVeTyl-X5UNEV9d8WE_oyDjKSoSgk8/s400/Picture+5.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527219432352598834" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">photo by : Ronald Traeger<br /><br /></span></span></div>Last night's thunderstorm and hail must have come through to remind us recently returned city folk that nature still rules. It was absolutely <span>fantastic</span> to be caught in her whirl last night, despite the soggy socks and the unspun hair. Actually, because of that coming undone. A reminder to be wild, even in the pretty city.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-79845900115093094062010-10-10T13:41:00.001-04:002010-10-10T13:41:55.008-04:00Rearview<div clss='blogium-image'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YlFzVwQnxWRS5AU3m9apfCI9KdBECGwASvk345vdhyg7uQ8DIY_0bvIrdsyYy2llb5xQEaklZaw_jF_SexOpuEULEHX1IJC6Mh7I_s5xqZr6kYOQm3h7Dr42ZuNbqBcyUukiowm6iBw/'/></div>The thing about traveling and documenting is that it takes you out of the moment, makes you more concave than convex, and you miss things. For the past few days I have chosen to live, not record, the moment and so there are some holes here. I'll fill them in, promise. <br><br>I sit in the airport feeling very far from home but come sundown I'll be reunited with my city habitat. The red rocks and great expanse will be but a memory, a photo, like the one here. But my intention is to keep these visuals vivid, to continue to glean fresh perspectives from and reflect on what I have seen.<br><br>This trip has been a good one. I am nothing but grateful, open and ready for what's to come.<br><br><p class='blogium-promo'><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-68469707619060171232010-10-07T20:58:00.002-04:002010-10-08T11:48:53.120-04:00Sedona Sunset<div clss="blogium-image"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEjo9dXS8cVaWy8_QZ2IQppDPC6jxoEXE8M57-LU57bt6JwLh2wf66Zj910HrhuAZ6dAyMdt-nhpaBKZ_Cxh3erDabsRS5rumgbjjezTQ0LRDajzApNMMuE5bYv8RBXChQXmsefQ6ujOo/" /></div>Back on the grid after two days incomunicado in a very rustic <a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canyon_de_Chelly_National_Monument">Canyon de Chelly</a>. It was beautiful, absolutely majestic, but I'm looking forward to lounging by the pool and getting some greens in the belly. Last nights beef fried steak at the local cafeteria (and only restaurant in town) didn't quite hit the spot. Hello Sedona.<p class="blogium-promo"><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-31934260480394802122010-10-06T01:27:00.001-04:002010-10-06T01:27:38.809-04:00Desert Lullabye<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Qj873-nVvkg?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Qj873-nVvkg?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-72775688169005200282010-10-05T20:41:00.002-04:002010-10-06T01:37:00.120-04:00Cocoon<div clss="blogium-image"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji22ccPb0vz55Zr4oN57DZ5vxXLLYaNjKUUhj8dfCEo2qVfp2pU-mSmtM59VDLT1VbqJxDL25Z4OwynbICohZwQbkxxElq5pK0ymRdWLs3puESAUHx2PGZh-7nUb6JlLcCmWJyT9Oxb0A/" /></div>Ojo Caliente Mineral Springs, Ojo Caliente, NM. Dusk.<br /><br />There's nothing like a hammock to slow you to a different frequency. Like being back in your Mother's womb. It's begun to rain but I'm staying here... <p class="blogium-promo"><small>Posted from <a href="http://totocaster.com/blogium/">Blogium</a> for iPhone</small></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-40527039269701611772010-10-04T10:00:00.008-04:002010-10-06T01:38:17.439-04:00Morning Glory<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtlMZ9VPYYJzY5tu6CVy6V8omxi2NbsBkUn5xn2R05imdCLzFacvwzHjtOACFZLwdtoNRP_9iVwzGbtW0kJbFATbp1cGZvg1Ztf2_D1-7HUXYl2hfKn1HZjlUC-7eMp0SSQk6djjNut0s/s1600/IMG_6525.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtlMZ9VPYYJzY5tu6CVy6V8omxi2NbsBkUn5xn2R05imdCLzFacvwzHjtOACFZLwdtoNRP_9iVwzGbtW0kJbFATbp1cGZvg1Ztf2_D1-7HUXYl2hfKn1HZjlUC-7eMp0SSQk6djjNut0s/s400/IMG_6525.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524211975794002018" border="0" /></a>I have a hard enough time staying in bed in Brooklyn, forget about it out here...<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrUR8z_liex7hnEcQ5x841fSSgYCMt_DTJ7wH5vHYY5uXGIdzQXldwhYhjNPpDHe-_mdthP0TASrwj7wzuOb8zQrB6RqSNdilroPlyQcJy-WKT6FIEOVUXpPzSXb3YivMRiRQbYLFdMck/s1600/IMG_6515.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrUR8z_liex7hnEcQ5x841fSSgYCMt_DTJ7wH5vHYY5uXGIdzQXldwhYhjNPpDHe-_mdthP0TASrwj7wzuOb8zQrB6RqSNdilroPlyQcJy-WKT6FIEOVUXpPzSXb3YivMRiRQbYLFdMck/s400/IMG_6515.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524207993075423986" border="0" /></a>Humble but ample...<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6SZaW-yomPmrrW6VE_qj8j_7_GdMcFRlLWHLHoGzLosnRE6o9a5E2HQaCc3jNLIuVknchWlUMpEa7S2tfdvz8s35duKFJIquLKAaLaCc4cOkzffabWzOIM4GUf29IlhKQCxDlz2fjQUU/s1600/IMG_6522.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6SZaW-yomPmrrW6VE_qj8j_7_GdMcFRlLWHLHoGzLosnRE6o9a5E2HQaCc3jNLIuVknchWlUMpEa7S2tfdvz8s35duKFJIquLKAaLaCc4cOkzffabWzOIM4GUf29IlhKQCxDlz2fjQUU/s400/IMG_6522.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524207990029840722" border="0" /></a>arid yet plush...<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu3loUOe5DsSaxGLfYIS6s4L0LxCEupKl8kGnj0lf3aJlwXc3qPVv0R_ffsPDUjmJw9T8bcWBFXo7ALbwYpQwtFaeMt37a7K7QQWBoT5V8ZrjYS_TfPP8aCQJcs05BSJ0TWKGd5t12FRU/s1600/IMG_6512.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu3loUOe5DsSaxGLfYIS6s4L0LxCEupKl8kGnj0lf3aJlwXc3qPVv0R_ffsPDUjmJw9T8bcWBFXo7ALbwYpQwtFaeMt37a7K7QQWBoT5V8ZrjYS_TfPP8aCQJcs05BSJ0TWKGd5t12FRU/s400/IMG_6512.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524207977882683234" border="0" /></a> I could walk this landscape, a tiny dot in a great expanse,<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg87HV1tEZhnagBBRnI_0r6c5zEUMbetwfiVPxBgan-Q3sUeCve4EZN6oOg6aVXiWk0AXlI4ICkQiei-3PVlDj-bUUldiHBbT7nCJU2tPG6c-m2YsNfEUmh7d8mZN18nxZL_R_GYijv6lg/s1600/IMG_6520.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg87HV1tEZhnagBBRnI_0r6c5zEUMbetwfiVPxBgan-Q3sUeCve4EZN6oOg6aVXiWk0AXlI4ICkQiei-3PVlDj-bUUldiHBbT7nCJU2tPG6c-m2YsNfEUmh7d8mZN18nxZL_R_GYijv6lg/s400/IMG_6520.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524207975264099842" border="0" /></a>for hours...<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjclgy-Acd9IXE4d1cL3dxcwIihGc9V3PMDzhyphenhyphenvZ4adNU3LnHzBnWT_wPKhm1mu_PYhjxTbnYKyvsi0ouKGZfUeVApHTWUp46-Uwx86DKn7gCmvevbiANZaH9u1iAr2IIo5CDK6LULYMEk/s1600/IMG_6495.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjclgy-Acd9IXE4d1cL3dxcwIihGc9V3PMDzhyphenhyphenvZ4adNU3LnHzBnWT_wPKhm1mu_PYhjxTbnYKyvsi0ouKGZfUeVApHTWUp46-Uwx86DKn7gCmvevbiANZaH9u1iAr2IIo5CDK6LULYMEk/s400/IMG_6495.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524216005611015202" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-28388935219251328962010-10-03T14:14:00.004-04:002010-10-03T14:17:22.350-04:00A New Dimension<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMcp2_c3Lbld9MmR2JY-EIe9oYUVrF9aql8wi8PE9BV0bvWJ5HnhJJnXyauhtcaTh9SvwGxXm5aqfVwaSycS8dIM6b_FWB9fcPD3oEHvntjf-4DzUpC8FTmuFzdrc4wRSCBVaTI2_MGn4/s1600/thequote.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMcp2_c3Lbld9MmR2JY-EIe9oYUVrF9aql8wi8PE9BV0bvWJ5HnhJJnXyauhtcaTh9SvwGxXm5aqfVwaSycS8dIM6b_FWB9fcPD3oEHvntjf-4DzUpC8FTmuFzdrc4wRSCBVaTI2_MGn4/s400/thequote.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523885108773740322" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">"Man's mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its original dimensions." - Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr.</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;">(<span style="font-style: italic;">photo by Niki Hall)</span></span><br /></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-77792622191269832832010-10-03T09:14:00.016-04:002010-10-09T11:29:08.455-04:00Day 2 : Albuquerque to Santa Fe<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzaMcU1mzldVUgTPi-3o1TbzkiiTaVJuCJIFloFjiySyhFvV4I3IJw5S0CV7RY0XMagFU6hpUYrPaMrYIVynAGvzGX1LfZKQhsl0CgEMdIiVgxZyfpjG1PcMZX39_FjrTiVYf-NMf9YOc/s1600/IMG_6460.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzaMcU1mzldVUgTPi-3o1TbzkiiTaVJuCJIFloFjiySyhFvV4I3IJw5S0CV7RY0XMagFU6hpUYrPaMrYIVynAGvzGX1LfZKQhsl0CgEMdIiVgxZyfpjG1PcMZX39_FjrTiVYf-NMf9YOc/s400/IMG_6460.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523856454290792690" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span>The first word that comes to mind this morning, tucked away in a dark room in a soft bed with the expansive desert awaiting right outside my window, is blessed. The second word, awe. For how much we have seen, for how much we have lived and received in such a short period of time.<br /></div><br />Day 2 began early with a 4am wake-up call, a hurried brushing of the teeth and a woozy drive to a Park-N-Ride lot where we stood in line with sweatpant and parka bundled New Mexicans for a ride to the <a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);" href="http://www.balloonfiesta.com/">Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta</a> . Our citified version of dressed down warmth - leather jackets, boots and big scarves - got a few stares and an inquiring comment from one woman, who told us we looked so pretty "dressed up". Niki and I smiled in acceptance, communicating silently with a sideways glance. We are different here, but that's the point really. We came here for just that, for a different flavor. To slow to and be enlightened by a different frequency. To experience and eventually blend into something bigger than ourselves.<br /><br />The bus dropped us at the base of a dewy field not yet kissed by the sun, which was busy rising behind the mountain that stood at our backs. Trucks were lining up in ordered formations across the green, unloading braided baskets, extending colorful tarps, testing brilliant flames of orange and yellow.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Qk6wmlq7fPKcz6a16Y-zx3ThAnjlEwhUkh9iuC1Y8Nl3Wf28_wqPR4ClGd9A-Ujfn1P195oMq1HfMWBjh08PmW1ZirVkajGBHzBpe1kM8VW3gOgNox-Z10Npa8HElUMtpOoRm4e5oro/s1600/IMG_6395.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Qk6wmlq7fPKcz6a16Y-zx3ThAnjlEwhUkh9iuC1Y8Nl3Wf28_wqPR4ClGd9A-Ujfn1P195oMq1HfMWBjh08PmW1ZirVkajGBHzBpe1kM8VW3gOgNox-Z10Npa8HElUMtpOoRm4e5oro/s400/IMG_6395.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523840612394746578" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJVbq-ExXnTzD5VvIOFUxX7QpekElS02LIRQdfL_p8dH7LPolXRaUvu0INaPRrqo2J8s2iYBVYCakwTzpHYK9qLN6cshgTj84oIZowj0uK1bUzP6kAB6E7JzhCHhXpSdYOt0fBJvqBN-c/s1600/IMG_6431.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJVbq-ExXnTzD5VvIOFUxX7QpekElS02LIRQdfL_p8dH7LPolXRaUvu0INaPRrqo2J8s2iYBVYCakwTzpHYK9qLN6cshgTj84oIZowj0uK1bUzP6kAB6E7JzhCHhXpSdYOt0fBJvqBN-c/s400/IMG_6431.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523840619183198082" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWIK20dNjhBWs1vrhQMg8-p1TMA8m8NoKEyvDdpBTy79ZI35Ubpi10-Nevr-rhq_EoZpZEWEmZV93bBGKQEdt850E9PYyifL13YRWKl9uEqMP605521mYV_QWmp4m8yCRIAeGAnEYeBEA/s1600/IMG_6449.JPG"><br /></a>By 7am, most of the balloons had taken off. We unzipped our jackets and lay on our backs on the grass, now warmed by daylight, looking up into the sky. When our stomachs rumbled louder than the pyres of fire that gave the balloons flight, we muscled our way through crowds towards a sign advertising : BREAKFAST BURRITOS. 2 burritos with egg, bacon, hash browns, green chile, cheese and 2 fresh squeezed orange juices later, we were sated.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWIK20dNjhBWs1vrhQMg8-p1TMA8m8NoKEyvDdpBTy79ZI35Ubpi10-Nevr-rhq_EoZpZEWEmZV93bBGKQEdt850E9PYyifL13YRWKl9uEqMP605521mYV_QWmp4m8yCRIAeGAnEYeBEA/s1600/IMG_6449.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWIK20dNjhBWs1vrhQMg8-p1TMA8m8NoKEyvDdpBTy79ZI35Ubpi10-Nevr-rhq_EoZpZEWEmZV93bBGKQEdt850E9PYyifL13YRWKl9uEqMP605521mYV_QWmp4m8yCRIAeGAnEYeBEA/s400/IMG_6449.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523856452915349778" border="0" /></a><br />Back at <a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);" href="http://www.haciendantigua.com/ha/">Hacienda Antigua</a>, we took one last hammock nap before embarking on the second adventure of the day, a scenic drive through the <a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);" href="http://www.jemezmountaintrail.org/">Jemez Mountain Trail</a> en route to Santa Fe. For me, the scenic drive was the first draw, the visual that first came to mind when this Southwest adventure was marinating and forming. Yesterday, driving through roving roads, boulders 300 times my height giving way graciously to our path, sunroof open and serendipitous song after serendipitous song bounding through the stereo, that daydream became a reality. I had that moment, my moment. An awakening. An opening of heart. A boundless feeling of gratefulness. And, again, I felt blessed.<br /><br />We stopped in Jemez Springs at a kitschy little store, a log-cabin on stilts built into the side of the road. Amidst a jumble of second hand clothes, dreamcatchers and other mountain garb, I found a ring. A garnet stone, my birthstone, set in silver with tiny etchings symbolizing the rays of a sun around the jeweled center. Like the ring on my right hand, a trinket I found in Rome some 10 years ago which has been like a boomerang, returning to me every time it's misplaced, this new ring felt like it belonged on my finger. And so it stayed.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjflVTGUV8grg0jAcLzV51dOnfa_q3sXvqG78K5UfUrEFb-MhgOllUEFMvnWDaWpjvfo2TEa1F2Onb0oRWDhyayyj12gRKv9qroC6CHmnLGGvm-MERImjqEQ3UHXwbINXXVXsP7ZCBY6w8/s1600/IMG_6491.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjflVTGUV8grg0jAcLzV51dOnfa_q3sXvqG78K5UfUrEFb-MhgOllUEFMvnWDaWpjvfo2TEa1F2Onb0oRWDhyayyj12gRKv9qroC6CHmnLGGvm-MERImjqEQ3UHXwbINXXVXsP7ZCBY6w8/s400/IMG_6491.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523856921127249298" border="0" /></a><br />After a fresh meal down the road at Highway 4 Coffee, <a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);" href="http://www.gigglingsprings.com/">Giggling Springs</a>, one of many natural hot springs the region is known for, was next. After cleansing our bodies of suntan lotion and the dust from our journey, we dipped into a pool of calcium, potassium, magnesium and oxygen. Whatever the concoction, its healing qualities were immediately evident. Like dipping into a bath drawn by an oracle. We emerged feeling refreshed and ready for the last leg of our journey to Santa Fe.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6cKQ-6ohyphenhyphen0x25S96fO1j3uQI9XMDqYirSNrX97B10UI0rbmGRqa18eHOt6JmLTCCBgah9K6_3uV4uQtHUieMjSctmdA9sxJin2j47yhp87nFSM_4ct_73Y2l9pl3lEH7jNpDQwi3vAv4/s1600/giggle1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6cKQ-6ohyphenhyphen0x25S96fO1j3uQI9XMDqYirSNrX97B10UI0rbmGRqa18eHOt6JmLTCCBgah9K6_3uV4uQtHUieMjSctmdA9sxJin2j47yhp87nFSM_4ct_73Y2l9pl3lEH7jNpDQwi3vAv4/s400/giggle1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523856930365786562" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNejpgQllN6l9kNQQODkdrZ72mHLdzWv4qIGlZZn7eZospVtAHHBACrDs31Cwh4PQ-qftYj9_y7W7dHy8MLusSj1YBr5nUPq_-9JPJwFj677hNAytReaczzNGOQJivFjpcG1Z88GWZ1wY/s1600/giggle3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNejpgQllN6l9kNQQODkdrZ72mHLdzWv4qIGlZZn7eZospVtAHHBACrDs31Cwh4PQ-qftYj9_y7W7dHy8MLusSj1YBr5nUPq_-9JPJwFj677hNAytReaczzNGOQJivFjpcG1Z88GWZ1wY/s400/giggle3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523856935869737634" border="0" /></a><br />Preferring the winding mountain trails over the concrete, commercial blur of highway 25, we remained on the high road. It was the right decision, but one I temporarily doubted when snow began to drag beneath the tires. Yes, I said snow. A surprise to us both ...<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyVNHDXtJiL4KSIt7HSXhV5HQ4vVuC2wF2Es_8jEBKjawyYnwU1oQG2DH3lcrQgCDY0W_TxG_M7_j8UM7v3Mg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />I shifted the car to the lowest gear possible, preparing myself to cruise down some of the most severe curves I've ever driven, the Amalfi coast included. A reverent silence came over us, a moment of prayer, as we slow-coasted down a deserted road flanked by bare trees on either side. For about 10 minutes we were completely alone. Lightening lit up the sky in the distance, and we both sensed the oncoming dusk. For the first time on this journey, fear crept in. And also disbelief. Not 1 hour before we'd been baking in the waters of a hot spring underneath an intense, benevolent sun.<br /><br />But, like any other rough patch, it passed. The croons of the Neville Brothers, and the Billy Joel and Van Morrison that played thereafter, soothed the nerves. We eventually found a State Trooper and a caravan of 4 to 5 other cars, who accompanied us on the remainder of our descent. Back on dry asphalt, the breeze a bit warmer, we released the shallow breathes we'd held, relaxing tensed muscles. Niki high fived me and we were off again, feeling stronger.<br /><br />Just as the sun fell, we rolled into the outskirts of Santa Fe. Yellow desert flowers and dirt the color of dried roses shown through our headlights as we pulled into the desert oasis where we'll be staying for the next 4 nights. I can't wait to open my windows and see what vista awaits beyond.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXkuMRChkBo5nq27dm8XHOklcy8ZdqzS9Vyb53OP1QH_NdCk8SO_NkdTh_nR4oYodennpQQPzn7Qn_EGzDehVZJjvqnD2E5b9iHpP8k2_VVRTWpMWgg3Jj09-HNoA63OOIeq-lKyx74mU/s1600/thegate.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXkuMRChkBo5nq27dm8XHOklcy8ZdqzS9Vyb53OP1QH_NdCk8SO_NkdTh_nR4oYodennpQQPzn7Qn_EGzDehVZJjvqnD2E5b9iHpP8k2_VVRTWpMWgg3Jj09-HNoA63OOIeq-lKyx74mU/s400/thegate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523856926416405106" border="0" /></a><br />To be continued...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">*photos by Zana-DO and Niki Hall, video by Niki Hall</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-25049823736609419742010-10-02T14:00:00.004-04:002010-10-03T14:24:46.047-04:00From the Road : Pieces of Me<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuw62MXRczhUHZ03AjizUu0IXs4yvmSK1F9M8G1-uIhYsCQSErRmveWwiit5Cb6kq7F7mY8EyowT35DdOYnkr-lwjwPAAP8fGm2I09KLWA4x3gBT2Sh70EqPLyitf0Ms7TgZiMI8gzfTY/s1600/IMG_6478.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuw62MXRczhUHZ03AjizUu0IXs4yvmSK1F9M8G1-uIhYsCQSErRmveWwiit5Cb6kq7F7mY8EyowT35DdOYnkr-lwjwPAAP8fGm2I09KLWA4x3gBT2Sh70EqPLyitf0Ms7TgZiMI8gzfTY/s400/IMG_6478.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523882568503679730" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY0xPOQPNU3pEGje0y2NSN5CqfdyTyVVCo001xNs0ZPUUZJAN54NroNWoYyJA0oDbgF10gNMP6NMxtlOT2UhByvx_s6XXZzrGjpDYQGuHFSUSaZXs4CnNtPxDbgfvUIhZbJ-jvd2sOOSo/s1600/IMG_6483.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY0xPOQPNU3pEGje0y2NSN5CqfdyTyVVCo001xNs0ZPUUZJAN54NroNWoYyJA0oDbgF10gNMP6NMxtlOT2UhByvx_s6XXZzrGjpDYQGuHFSUSaZXs4CnNtPxDbgfvUIhZbJ-jvd2sOOSo/s400/IMG_6483.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523881938779053538" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY0xPOQPNU3pEGje0y2NSN5CqfdyTyVVCo001xNs0ZPUUZJAN54NroNWoYyJA0oDbgF10gNMP6NMxtlOT2UhByvx_s6XXZzrGjpDYQGuHFSUSaZXs4CnNtPxDbgfvUIhZbJ-jvd2sOOSo/s1600/IMG_6483.JPG"><br /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZlYZgnmMs7bJYg6NB07HhdtIBPaHV5g4MPSyFPfmp8eU5G2fRbm0dddBaTVR3ojLsjsRkHwCskmKE7icfdvbI_9vgRWKphmlW0UWuENoTkTlbZ2Uk0tmD9E_xs6rWm82bBHFtIRiK4R8/s1600/IMG_6482.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZlYZgnmMs7bJYg6NB07HhdtIBPaHV5g4MPSyFPfmp8eU5G2fRbm0dddBaTVR3ojLsjsRkHwCskmKE7icfdvbI_9vgRWKphmlW0UWuENoTkTlbZ2Uk0tmD9E_xs6rWm82bBHFtIRiK4R8/s400/IMG_6482.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523883557589342898" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY0xPOQPNU3pEGje0y2NSN5CqfdyTyVVCo001xNs0ZPUUZJAN54NroNWoYyJA0oDbgF10gNMP6NMxtlOT2UhByvx_s6XXZzrGjpDYQGuHFSUSaZXs4CnNtPxDbgfvUIhZbJ-jvd2sOOSo/s1600/IMG_6483.JPG"><br /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-83824316405665738612010-10-01T23:30:00.000-04:002010-10-03T14:12:30.617-04:00We're Here!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTPdbvZNmYaRXRgTlfRZQH8gmbfpbzRFE06VsZPrfk2WFCka2UonigpeaN2vh3vNdYPXtTaYtT3iMkk5lJ_ZcGd7cYtHWKwW_Qhpb1B_IIjSF5mfFQaWbVrcI2oW_k8T1l07hYVZgx7Y/s1600/Picture+12.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTPdbvZNmYaRXRgTlfRZQH8gmbfpbzRFE06VsZPrfk2WFCka2UonigpeaN2vh3vNdYPXtTaYtT3iMkk5lJ_ZcGd7cYtHWKwW_Qhpb1B_IIjSF5mfFQaWbVrcI2oW_k8T1l07hYVZgx7Y/s400/Picture+12.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523302880764437138" border="0" /></a><br />So we're here, me and <a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);" href="http://thisisniki.blogspot.com/">Miss Niki</a>, in an arid yet breezy New Mexico. We both decided to come here - to an unknown, expansive terrain - to be inspired. To process a past, pass through the present and embrace a future. The overachievers that we are, it wasn't enough to go lay on a beach or sit on a tour bus letting others set the pace or frame the scene. We're on a roadtrip, engineered and executed by us, literally and figuratively. Spiritually.<br /><br />It won't be an easy week for either of us, but it won't be a joyless one either. Hot air balloon rides, hot springs, the Grand Canyon and the delightful unknown await us. Seekers, dreamers. Two Ladies doing the hard work. Ever hopeful, and full of love. Like Thelma & Louise, with more melanin (wink).<br /><br />More to come...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-52937807738026327032010-09-28T10:17:00.006-04:002010-09-28T10:22:56.126-04:00That Dress Looks Nice On You..Never underestimate the power of a compliment. Of exposing oneself enough to lift someone else up.<br /><br />How sweet is this song... a dreamy musing, from desirous man to deserving woman...<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0OkX_r032PM?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0OkX_r032PM?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-48717441531265730942010-09-18T08:39:00.003-04:002010-09-18T08:50:04.293-04:00A PoemI found this poem or, should I say, this poem found me this morning, after a desperate week. An elegant reminder to put out into the world what we want to see, what we want to receive and know as our reality. Easier mused upon than lived at times, but a solid truth nonetheless. One to aspire to, to strive for, to live by...<br /><br /><p></p><p style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave,<br />There are souls that are pure and true,<br />Then give the world the best you have,<br />And the best will come back to you.</p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">Give love, and love to your life will flow,<br />A strength in your utmost need,<br />Have faith, and a score of hearts will show<br />Their faith in your word and deed.</p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind;<br />And honor will honor meet;<br />And a smile that is sweet will surely find<br />A smile that is just as sweet.</p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">Give pity and sorrow to those who mourn,<br />You will gather in flowers again<br />The scattered seeds from your thoughts outborne<br />Though the sowing seemed but vain.</p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;">For life is the mirror of king and slave,<br />‘Tis just what we are and do;<br />Then give to the world the best you have,<br />And the best will come back to you.</p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p style="text-align: center;">- Madeline Bridges -<br /><strong style="font-weight: normal;"><small>American poet (1844 – 1920)</small></strong></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-31620638301074234722010-09-12T19:07:00.007-04:002010-09-12T19:34:27.215-04:00In The Mood For Love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg0jykQ0rTDNLSqSDhMcLXaB1HVxjWe21dedQq9R6yJCSJJR5rOEzrg1nYfZtIIKbQVYkOrYBHFUnH_UAdDGt-zcP0YTZ7pvSp91jylloIK4D8w8FBh7EsvV_RHnLkiyqJXCFVtaXqyIc/s1600/Picture+15.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg0jykQ0rTDNLSqSDhMcLXaB1HVxjWe21dedQq9R6yJCSJJR5rOEzrg1nYfZtIIKbQVYkOrYBHFUnH_UAdDGt-zcP0YTZ7pvSp91jylloIK4D8w8FBh7EsvV_RHnLkiyqJXCFVtaXqyIc/s400/Picture+15.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516169370756646450" border="0" /></a><br />A rainy, quiet evening spent watching Wong Kar-Wai's <a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);" href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0118694/"><span style="font-style: italic;">In The Mood For Love</span></a>...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3SyYG2FbSau9VoLnFlOgMcgqCwaxxEOXW9vouINNgrm4E0lNjBJSvLgf-cFWU5vbLbxdRAnlUZOq3bXIeMiovfWAaynmCIYmmFa1vnJa80CIuJ3BAs3LM8mbLcC1DUmZHSfGb37OOoNs/s1600/Picture+14.png"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRkD9YtN124ZqUMFCdztkTDLHM521FIG_A_W1m27z9FpnbPjNNh3LPjK_RhB8r60b-Xh3Ax05ocZbLzuuHbASvEwc9UP3HpB84LIxg7RhyphenhyphenrHrdXR95EHDIogveGRXcXgL1E4ntgBaxVkc/s1600/Picture+13.png"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 327px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRkD9YtN124ZqUMFCdztkTDLHM521FIG_A_W1m27z9FpnbPjNNh3LPjK_RhB8r60b-Xh3Ax05ocZbLzuuHbASvEwc9UP3HpB84LIxg7RhyphenhyphenrHrdXR95EHDIogveGRXcXgL1E4ntgBaxVkc/s400/Picture+13.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5516169354457079410" border="0" /></a><br />...missing the one I love.<br /><br /><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/I0tMmsUEGOY?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/I0tMmsUEGOY?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="385" width="480"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-31037165490680783652010-09-02T07:59:00.002-04:002010-09-02T11:18:09.163-04:00Something Outrageous<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPkiQY36Y7QQ41DU9m85dyOEMXsHyPcQLU8ESHtRm-tJdP0A72LoQEUA6tEg34EgmB0qBGRhMnk6-bciATurxvUgmuKlsSrsTCtfKw2V348RKUWRnhAeaUcUnkEKnN6MQWXjplTRjYwjg/s1600/Picture+8.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 228px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPkiQY36Y7QQ41DU9m85dyOEMXsHyPcQLU8ESHtRm-tJdP0A72LoQEUA6tEg34EgmB0qBGRhMnk6-bciATurxvUgmuKlsSrsTCtfKw2V348RKUWRnhAeaUcUnkEKnN6MQWXjplTRjYwjg/s400/Picture+8.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512280748253586082" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">photographer : unknown</span></span><br /></div><br />A good friend sent me a greeting card reminding me to do something outrageous everyday, stating that it's those random acts of self expression and daring that keep our hearts beating and our souls smiling. Indeed.<br /><br />For me, the most outrageous, daring thing I can do is to step out and "make my own music" so to speak, to identify and then work diligently on a project of my own. A notion that fills me with equal parts angst and joy, a swinging pendulum of high emotion that has me exhausted right now. How to balance it all, how to eliminate the fear and judgement, that's always been my question.<br /><br />This photograph by an unknown photographer (<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">if you know the origin, please do share</span></span>), pulled all of these thoughts together for me this morning. An artist at his craft, at his love, independent of yet amidst the crowd.<br /><br />Here's to the courage to step out and do something outrageous, to getting going, to <span style="font-style: italic;">being kind</span> to oneself in the process.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-91924882148097768002010-08-28T11:58:00.006-04:002010-08-28T14:52:01.766-04:00Truth<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiBa0wTqCLemYem9gb5SE3y_TRKnaWMlmsQMUzBYDx03F83pcjB187olcxMMB3ZWjmFi1Bw9B4bSNX5Np8AQeP81DyhdUNwpNxG0GwQ0Lv_U7YPhGdsf4gXTqu0LrW-4kEBTL5TXW_sVw/s1600/IMG_0773.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 378px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiBa0wTqCLemYem9gb5SE3y_TRKnaWMlmsQMUzBYDx03F83pcjB187olcxMMB3ZWjmFi1Bw9B4bSNX5Np8AQeP81DyhdUNwpNxG0GwQ0Lv_U7YPhGdsf4gXTqu0LrW-4kEBTL5TXW_sVw/s400/IMG_0773.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510492385335902082" border="0" /></a>"I keep moving forward. But motion does not healing make."<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">- <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-29155360395565441212010-08-28T09:41:00.002-04:002010-09-03T08:35:43.470-04:00Watts & 6thYesterday Love squinted through the blinds at me on the corner of Watts and 6th Avenue, just as I was mopping up the last bits of my lunch...<br /><br />I noticed her first. Long auburn flecked hair blew over her face, concealing a sideways kiss. The recipient? An equally full-haired male with olive skin who hugged her closer before allowing her to step back and regather the straps of her handbag up around her bundled shoulder. They stood there, unwilling to let go of each others warmth just yet. Staring, saying nothing with words, emitting it all through energy and body heat.<br /><br />They parted sooner than I was ready to let them go. As they set off in opposite directions I had a split second to decide who I'd follow with my eyes. Who would be more emotive, who would add more texture to this love story unfolding on an otherwise mundane corner. I chose him, and he didn't disappoint.<br /><br />He fumbled and bumbled deliciously in the wake of her. A confident stride in a decided direction soon faltered to accommodate a backward glance once, twice, three times in the direction of his Lady. What those glances procured must have been quite inspiring for he paused mid crosswalk, not at all concerned with the car edging forward, revving up the courage to beep. Reluctant steps eventually brought him to the safety of the opposite curb, where he turned in a haze and joined the flow of pedestrian traffic. The curls atop his head bounced above the crowd, which seemed to adopt his amorous amble. How tender.<br /><br />I watched him recede with a smile all over my face. <br /><br />No need for dessert, check please.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-32179571517605094072010-08-22T17:31:00.003-04:002010-08-25T12:52:39.332-04:00..and Sunday Morning<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/plU9B51ACLQ?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/plU9B51ACLQ?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-49547300018731066032010-08-21T21:25:00.003-04:002010-08-22T17:33:28.056-04:00Saturday Night...<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Xoz5CYbviqk?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Xoz5CYbviqk?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-51747118129002465092010-08-18T14:54:00.006-04:002010-08-26T09:18:32.507-04:00Desert Bound<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSQGAI0tBJM9BQ13MqLqeBVagBi2WESivYMLrwJbkEUFmzuMU65XVogkjCTCT24DSgkOeps8ptMYG4qeE2wqBPzsG2674OZJeejAzxwid9yG6avt5HZsvMSXE0PkG7JJzGLjcuSjwJuA/s1600/Picture+7.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 311px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSQGAI0tBJM9BQ13MqLqeBVagBi2WESivYMLrwJbkEUFmzuMU65XVogkjCTCT24DSgkOeps8ptMYG4qeE2wqBPzsG2674OZJeejAzxwid9yG6avt5HZsvMSXE0PkG7JJzGLjcuSjwJuA/s400/Picture+7.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506825426986111682" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Desert, <a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);" href="http://www.alexprager.com/">Alex Prager</a>, Archive 2003-2006<br /></span></div><br />Looks like this deusa urbana will be heading out to the desert soon. Hot air balloon races, natural springs, artsy fartsy artist communities, remote little B&Bs run by eccentrics and I-40 await...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-16092804234916923762010-08-16T09:41:00.012-04:002010-08-26T09:18:13.072-04:00Enchanted Island<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGTijhVvCjjDE4JFXglEk9tNFBoFG7ri-hJQiNAKnXJX41uz6g1Q5HXLQwikw0_H-usLJI6z33EcTmeNbIhl5xTkA98ZWaFAMCirs2ddPFStKqOrsmZWbIcRHXbcRGA8hthvqt_o-K7_c/s1600/Picture+5.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 398px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGTijhVvCjjDE4JFXglEk9tNFBoFG7ri-hJQiNAKnXJX41uz6g1Q5HXLQwikw0_H-usLJI6z33EcTmeNbIhl5xTkA98ZWaFAMCirs2ddPFStKqOrsmZWbIcRHXbcRGA8hthvqt_o-K7_c/s400/Picture+5.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506109819164340258" border="0" /></a><br />I may have been a bit hasty in summoning the Fall. Mother Nature and the Universe, the original power couple, did their best to prove me wrong this weekend, and they succeeded.<br /><br />An unexpected, last minute invitation arrived on Friday around Noon; it's acceptance found me on a sunset ferry headed to the most enchanting NY beach destination I've ever seen. Fair Harbor, Fire Island. It's only an hour and change by train and thirty minutes by boat, but the lull of the motor and the sound of the wake gurgling behind earn you oceans and light years worth of mental and spiritual distance.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoJ8uK8C4h18dgpYdQseLRC1v4UpaQmZomN4QUarSpXp-q6Gh8bs2rmSvcOYvAZHXGrnKDVGo2U0WFVow-xAJU53YPe8Q7LqZ_b_5Z2fSELuaDlMyVOsanRup-r9Ng9c2OcK5g6CEUzus/s1600/Picture+3.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 398px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoJ8uK8C4h18dgpYdQseLRC1v4UpaQmZomN4QUarSpXp-q6Gh8bs2rmSvcOYvAZHXGrnKDVGo2U0WFVow-xAJU53YPe8Q7LqZ_b_5Z2fSELuaDlMyVOsanRup-r9Ng9c2OcK5g6CEUzus/s400/Picture+3.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506109798035772162" border="0" /></a><br />We arrived just after dusk, edging up to a dock full of families complete with barking dogs and children swinging from monkey bars, all in seafaring garb. The entire island seemed to be lit with tea lights, awaiting our arrival. The same pinewood slates that first accepted our footsteps on the dock carried us throughout the entire town. There are no cars allowed in Fair Harbor, only feet and beach bikes. The weathered boardwalk, elevated three feet above the sand and dirt, serves as the road, running through the main square, winding down each narrow, residential street and inevitably terminating, splendidly, at the waters edge. Fair Harbor can't be more than .5 miles wide and so every street laps the beach on both ends, the rumbling ocean on the South side, the calm, tepid bay on the North. All under a canopy of unruly green foliage and otherwise unobstructed sky.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-NCOPuaIXgZDMEML4WLyEl7WddK1-mUxyPrRhhFX-JeP8N491MW0tWG8SVYoeF-h0UignLoqPGTyTiA8U8wVWVO9Yb_6goGOaN_NcHBOrda_mAmNPBM6mzNsJLQ5ckw5AMpWcJ56uIK8/s1600/Picture+28.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-NCOPuaIXgZDMEML4WLyEl7WddK1-mUxyPrRhhFX-JeP8N491MW0tWG8SVYoeF-h0UignLoqPGTyTiA8U8wVWVO9Yb_6goGOaN_NcHBOrda_mAmNPBM6mzNsJLQ5ckw5AMpWcJ56uIK8/s400/Picture+28.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506109805618865938" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm-adoapjjlVZDQx6BWOe-EHvB3FNzSVaN3Z1gKdLVub8gKlikoW5am3BreuWPP-GbS3t_9ZJqhrzPNAjIbIk1bpvUtLzFQ5rmYgHx6jHjzPaFba0OjUueO6f5BFdH0UD_6FZgBiSoONU/s1600/Picture+24.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 398px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm-adoapjjlVZDQx6BWOe-EHvB3FNzSVaN3Z1gKdLVub8gKlikoW5am3BreuWPP-GbS3t_9ZJqhrzPNAjIbIk1bpvUtLzFQ5rmYgHx6jHjzPaFba0OjUueO6f5BFdH0UD_6FZgBiSoONU/s400/Picture+24.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506109413482254594" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC5FEwmIjF2V-UlojPUd1uHWxF7HK2TJhqnqnIitxuXWpFV_Jj0RTVtfaTM5D7yLBSwfw1J_wag_NbnONiWPSIHX3QQGZUdz5CfuJ485qvQFM1_hWGNvlezMMTd8yYLjYPs69tVbTahOY/s1600/Picture+37.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 399px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC5FEwmIjF2V-UlojPUd1uHWxF7HK2TJhqnqnIitxuXWpFV_Jj0RTVtfaTM5D7yLBSwfw1J_wag_NbnONiWPSIHX3QQGZUdz5CfuJ485qvQFM1_hWGNvlezMMTd8yYLjYPs69tVbTahOY/s400/Picture+37.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506109398286183474" border="0" /></a><br />All of this contributed to the feeling of pleasant disorientation that came over me on our slow walk home in the dark on Friday night. Winding down road after road I was too romanced by the miniature bungalows, the well manicured beach lawns and the sounds and smells of families abandoning their hobbies and negotiating themselves around dinner tables for communal meals to know where I was going or how to get back. And I didn't want to.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzaAjEk2N-ZMSO78sRSXkANdHyQsaPfSyQJXpUajBW_VaiycZeiVpVTc1cb6m0yCCdE5W7KH8xI1VeCsOUxAYhskHf8hLGggE7yaunrTLfmlg0NlasSQxEts-au9zqnMegk-LnTVr0HoA/s1600/Picture+11.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 399px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzaAjEk2N-ZMSO78sRSXkANdHyQsaPfSyQJXpUajBW_VaiycZeiVpVTc1cb6m0yCCdE5W7KH8xI1VeCsOUxAYhskHf8hLGggE7yaunrTLfmlg0NlasSQxEts-au9zqnMegk-LnTVr0HoA/s400/Picture+11.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506109429265015730" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCxoeiep1dDxvn0bM-wCS7qqqpMX0z80H8g-Cu-QNjjT-jT1oYYIj0o-Ral3niy8o0k_NPwYLlzPtRgw5iQhGhyphenhyphenKuSX9_d57KeRihYJDrMlDv5ntQGGHGkPwuFXf7k6m0OuRjHZuBsUtg/s1600/Picture+19.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCxoeiep1dDxvn0bM-wCS7qqqpMX0z80H8g-Cu-QNjjT-jT1oYYIj0o-Ral3niy8o0k_NPwYLlzPtRgw5iQhGhyphenhyphenKuSX9_d57KeRihYJDrMlDv5ntQGGHGkPwuFXf7k6m0OuRjHZuBsUtg/s400/Picture+19.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506109419306214562" border="0" /></a><br />Fire Island is decidedly less quaffed and self-aware than the Hamptons, it almost has a blue collar twang at times. But I was told by my host, an insider for some 20 years, not to be fooled. Some of the heaviest, headiest hitters in media, the arts and publishing have hid out there for decades. You can be putting air into your tires next to the most seasoned literary agent or impresario and, unlike the other island (Manhattan), it'd take you a great deal of impolite digging or internet research to find out just who. You have to go with the flow, take off your city cap and truly engage. And that's exactly why they are there. To take a break, be themselves, go beyond rote professional discourse. The relationships and connections made on the island are genuine and run deep. That, to me, was very attractive.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtQiyAMx2UBDJjAKMFfMtoV-HSDccJi7N8fAFmgGYLCsfh6l_Dhchhv76IYUNhEyNxFSi_izat84Ep1L5I_CU742X99LZ3ngKE3-wIe-UhhL_iv7J5Eixpe0K1EoijbJyXzDZsHg1q28c/s1600/Picture+31.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 399px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtQiyAMx2UBDJjAKMFfMtoV-HSDccJi7N8fAFmgGYLCsfh6l_Dhchhv76IYUNhEyNxFSi_izat84Ep1L5I_CU742X99LZ3ngKE3-wIe-UhhL_iv7J5Eixpe0K1EoijbJyXzDZsHg1q28c/s400/Picture+31.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506109404431227090" border="0" /></a><br />Around day 3 Fall was a distant memory, a far off future. I had forgotten how undeniably refreshing and unmistakably Summer it is to take a shower outdoors (!), iced coffee in hand, the smell of sea salt and charcoal mixing above. How much more beautiful my skin is when golden and naturally exfoliated by the persistent pounding of the waves. How lusciously lazy it can feel to wake up early in bed, stumble 50 yards and finish the nights slumber on the beach. How nurturing it is, for both giver and recipient, to spend all afternoon shopping for and preparing a big meal on the grill. Hmm.<br /><br />These are all Summer niceties, Summer luxuries that I may have dismissed a little too quickly, that I will certainly need more of before I can truly embrace the Fall. Next weekend, perhaps:)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmE8T4pF0U9BBG_V_splQxiswMl7q4KTIzfSqKhsyk3Roa8yBVU0LB5Kzef553TkO9OKQoYNFbfROkK3WIfH-AVQh_eR6KgpxeNRER9VnmAr7p-RyNV_R34KmhZos3wBS0AYEzI5DfOCM/s1600/Picture+3.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 361px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmE8T4pF0U9BBG_V_splQxiswMl7q4KTIzfSqKhsyk3Roa8yBVU0LB5Kzef553TkO9OKQoYNFbfROkK3WIfH-AVQh_eR6KgpxeNRER9VnmAr7p-RyNV_R34KmhZos3wBS0AYEzI5DfOCM/s400/Picture+3.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506123991972142338" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">all photos courtesy of Erin Robinson</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6760142219525445775.post-2690991680937991702010-08-13T11:33:00.006-04:002010-08-13T11:56:11.521-04:00New JamsTwo hours later and I am STILL on my friend Frenel's website, <a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);" href="http://www.stilllifenyc.com/index.php?page=bio.php">Still Life</a>. The hats are fly but it's the music that's kept me here. The tabs in my browser expand way beyond the space allowed with searches on new music (new to me, anyway) from <a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);" href="http://www.google.com/search?q=cool+calm+pete&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a">Cool Calm Pete</a>, <a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);" href="http://www.google.com/search?q=yusef+lateef&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a">Yusef Lateef</a> and this tune from <a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 102);" href="http://n-e-r-d.com/">N.E.R.D.</a><br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/5zJ2nxj4t6A?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/5zJ2nxj4t6A?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br />I love getting lost like this. I'm hungry right now, and curious, for all things new and fresh. And this has hit the spot. Thank you, Frenel, for your brand of cool. For making hats AND curating the best musical assemblage I've heard in some time.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0