gravitas

I think I've gotten to a point in life where, though I'm happy, I've lost a sense of carefree lightness that used to characterize my state of being. Does this happen to everybody?

beards, b.o. and beats

On Saturday, I headed into Williamsburg with a few friends, and checked out two new spots. The first stop was a soul and funk dance party at the Glasslands Gallery. This was a prototypical Williamsburg joint-- the exterior was a run down, grimy building with no sign but the street number scrawled in white paint. When we got there, around eleven, the place was mostly empty. The aesthetic inside was unkempt, and the self-aware hipsters with tight pants, beards and occasionally body odour were in full effect. We got there early because after a $3 cover, there was supposed to be free beer from 11 until 12. I knew it was going to be a good night when they handed us Colt 45. To be fair, the music was great, and I gave serious consideration to hanging around until 1 to compete in the funk dance competition.

Instead, a group of us left sometime around 1230 to fulfill Shival's longstanding dream (of at least four weeks) to party at another Williamsburg dance spot: Bembe. Despite having no coat check, and a painfully inadequate bathroom situation, Bembe was awesome. The music was a blend of South and Central American influences, and although I normally find it difficult to dance to these rhythms, I was really feeling the dancing choose on Saturday. The crowd was very chill, everybody was having a good time on the floor, and the drinks were cheap. And no cover! Will definitely head back here at some point. Who wants to dance?

friends, part 2

Since writing the post on friendship a few days ago, I've been thinking about some additional dimensions.

Strong romantic relationships often share many characteristics with friendships. Often, when people are in love, they will describe their significant other as their best friend. The distinction I've been struggling with is whether being in love simply shares characteristics with friendship (and hence 'feels like it'), or whether there is a separable element of friendship that exists in parallel. This is an especially relevant question when thinking about how to move forward with relationships that have ended (I don't mean to be coy here-- I presume most readers of this blog will understand my motivations in discussing this topic). While I certainly hope for the latter, I sometimes fear that the former may be closer to the truth. Thoughts?

Another scenario I was thinking about is that of childhood friends who grow apart. How do we maintain friendships, if at all, when we've grown apart in terms of shared experiences, interests, and inclinations? Many of these dissipate, but some seem to stick around-- and I think there is value here. Value in having somebody who realizes how different you've become, but still cares for you, and will be there for you because of your shared past. These are the things that make us human.

the crying light

beautiful new music.
credit to jing for the introduction.

nkw

"Ooo you make me live"

A few years ago, I confided in somebody close to me that I was lonely; I felt that while I was friendly with a great many people, I didn't have many friends. The lines between acquaintances, friends, family and romantic interests, for example, often blur, and it can be difficult to compartmentalize relationships cleanly. Thinking about what it takes to sustain friendships is an interesting exercise, and I'd be interested to hear some of your thoughts. My intention here is just to express a few disconnected thoughts on the matter.

An old friend with whom I spent a summer in Norway some years ago recently left a message on my Facebook wall about letters that we used to exchange, and suggested we ought to meet up. The whole thing made me feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. What makes it really fascinating is that aside from our month or so in Norway together, she and I have spent literally no time together. Yet this one experience was apparently enough for us to stay in touch and continue sharing experiences over distance and time.

The most challenging thing for me with friendships that are grounded in the past is the shortage of shared experiences-- there can occasionally be a tendency to reduce interactions to nostalgic retellings. Happily, I think I have many close friends from whom I've lived apart for 3 or more years. I often find myself chatting with or writing to one of these people, and I am abruptly and acutely struck by just how much I miss them, and how deeply his or her friendship has affected me.

Few things are as valuable in times of distress as a friend who knows you. A close friend, one whom you've given up trying to impress, one who knows your flaws and weaknesses, one who is willing to just listen is truly a blessing. I've never been somebody who particularly enjoys spending time by myself (being a middle child, I guess). I have a tendency as well, to be repetitive and self-indulgent when things are bothering me. Without the friends I have, unwitting and otherwise, I'd be some kind of mess.

I love my friends, old and new, near and far. Thanks for everything.

parting ways

Last night, I sang in my fifth concert with the Young New Yorker's Chorus. We sang Rachmaninoff's All Night Vigil along with a few pieces by John Tavener. As always, it was a really wonderful experience for me. It was also very nice to have my parents in the audience! Thanks to those of you who were able to come hear us sing. It means a great deal to me.

Today I've had that sort of bittersweet feeling that always hits me after a concert. After weeks of engaging regularly and intensely with the music, I grow attached to the piece. The final days leading up to a concert are often when I find myself letting go and falling in love with the music. There is a sort of sadness, then, that ensues when the concert is over, and I realize that I won't be rehearsing the piece anymore. I like to keep the score and a good recording of the music. And every now and then, I get to sing an old piece that I know again; usually an exciting feeling.

Reluctantly on to the next thing, I suppose.

for the love of fort greene...

this morning, as i was leaving the farmer's market, i walked past fellow neighborhood resident jhumpa lahiri. and so continues my love affair with fort greene.

is he about to emote?

speaking of performance and emotion, check out jack white below on the conan finale

classifying creativity

Recently, I have been thinking about the word creative. It struck me recently that the word is fairly ill-defined, or perhaps too broadly defined to be very meaningful. Most people seem to agree that creativity is something valuable, having vaguely to do with generating unique ideas and expressions.

Consider, however, creativity of the sort that a scientist uses in developing an effective study and how it compares to the creativity of a painter. We may call a stage actor creative, and also praise a business leader for her creative approach to structuring her division. Are we really describing a comparable attribute in these two examples? It feels to me like we've just given a single name to two completely different concepts.

One of the relationships that I've been thinking about lately is between author and performer. The act of writing a work (music, play, film, etc.) undeniably demands creativity. Anybody who performs seriously knows that the same can be said of performance. Performing a piece with committment requires a dedicated, personal knowledge of the work, and an intimate sense of ones self. Indeed, our task as performer's is to communicate that which the page alone cannot do, and this requires creative drive in a very real sense. Nevertheless, for the sake of argument, the performer is still ultimately interpreting. Can it be said that the author is ultimately engaging in a more creative task by creating something from nothing? We occassionally see a performance that shatters this notion, but on the whole, does it have some merit?

Creative or not, I'm just thankful for opportunities to perform. There really is nothing else like it.

As always, I'd love to hear some of your thoughts.