Some Breathe Through Songs (poeTry)

by: a.paige

Some see with their ears.

With eyes closed, they strum their strings

or run their fingers along some keys...

Others feel with their eyes

and glide over their canvas to hear...

Then there are those who tread the page...
for life.

How do you quench your soul?

Some breathe through songs.

The rest tirelessly seek the water from which to drink.

Music Review: Christmas in DeverseCity

by: amica paige

I wouldn't call myself a Christian; I'd rather wait for Truth in the end to reveal what's beyond this fragile life, which is nevertheless sprinkled with beauty, peace, and joyful things, if we only cared enough to see that the glass is indeed half-full and not always view it from the top as half-empty and lacking. I consider myself a hopeful skeptic, an occasional atheist, a nature worshipper, and a lover of art, music, and words. In other words, I'm a doubting Thomas and a crumb-licking dog searching for home. I'm both spiritual and worldly, if there is such a separation. I regard myself earthy, since I, like you, am grounded by gravity no matter how different our spiritual takes are, and recognize that our only exit is exactly the only exit from this life—to dust.


Why the long intro just to review an album? Well, my theatrics lead to this: my general fondness for music. I keep my ears open—yes, even to those labeled as "Christian" music, which are sometimes disregarded, mocked, just plain hated, or unnecessarily worshipped even more so than the God in their message. I believe that music, in all its forms, opens the mind, touches the spirit, and pierces the soul, if it bears any substance at all. Having said all that, here is my experience with TobyMac's Christmas in DiverseCity, a collaborative album.

Words that came to mind upon the first listen:
Breezy, Jingly, Snappy, Dancy.
Melodic. A soulful variety.
Tender...yet hard enough to rock to or, as I prefer, dance to.


And after the 2nd and umpteenth plays, here's what I think:
Christmas This Year rings in beautifully with a smooth blend of Toby's arresting ease and Leigh Nash's angelic vocals—there she goes again!—complemented by the entrancing background piano.


The First Noel is a strong follow with a rhythmically captivating arrangement, while Mary's Boy Child is definitely one of my favorite songs in the album, as even a bitter soul may render this soothing tune as ear candy—a delicious mix of intoxicating calm and head sway.


I seriously would dance or jog to O Come, All Ye Faithful—alright, I actually did dance to it and would have also done the latter if I didn't have a problem with sweaty earbuds slipping from my ears. However, singing along to this euphonic tune can make one feel like a real phony, especially if you like to question the Being being sung about. I couldn't help it though. When a song is brilliantly executed with just the right amount of funk, a listener can get carried away.


Little Drummer Boy is rich in beats, yet manages to hold its footing quite well, not losing grip of its context in all the fun, whereas This Christmas (Father of the Fatherless) is a tuneful chant of its title in parenthesis.


Carol of The Kings is a finely crafted symphonic song, making it a real treat on that point alone. As an aside and not to discount the artist's own merit, the rapper sounds like Kanye West, whose rapping style, per se, I like.


Birth of Love exudes energy. I'd play this as a backdrop for a Holiday fashion show if I moved in that arena.


What Child is This? penetrates the way a song should...even if you didn't bother with Christ. Its musical strength can mesmerize.


It Snowed is rock, pure and simple. If guitar riffs could jolt you into head bobbing, you'd dig this. But I dance to the beat of brit pop and funky or entrancing songs, and relish the slightly tamer side of some alternative and indie tunes.


Angels We Have Heard On High presents yet another angelic voice, wrapped in heavenly harmony and goosebumps-inducing chorus, warmly tied with an instrumental ribbon. There is a bit of narrated biblical message later in the song, as a sidenote to those who just can't be bothered with it or those whose ears are simply numb to it.


Santa's Coming Back Around is a jazzy R&B, a style that doesn't quite stir my spirit, like rock music, and the outburst in the intro can be grating. Still, it's just my queer taste and certainly not a pompous or foolish attempt to disregard the artist(s). Ditto for Christmas Time which is another flavorful R&B, at least for those who jive with those beats.


To end, if music is chocolate, this is definitely a box worth grabbing this season. The only difference is, it would never run out on you. If likened to coffee, DiverseCity is a nicely brewed holiday album, infused with  melodic ease, funk, and musical depth - elements that arguably prevent an album from turning into just another overprocessed junk in a music industry often stricken with a toxic tick that saps the sublime out of its pop music, leaving them as substanceless as soda pop, regardless of its spiritual angle, or lack of. I give this Christmas album a 9 3/4 out of ten stars, only because I'm still stuck at King's Cross and could never quite get to a perfection such as that of closure...wishing that the Great Hall had never closed its doors...
Perhaps, I should give DiverseCity a few more hundred listen to give it a perfect ten.

The Strokes on SNL

How in the world have I forgotten about The Strokes--what terrible memory lapse I must have suffered.
Thanks to Hulu, I was able to catch what I missed, and thanks to SNL for a sweet reminder...

White Rabbits in Brooklyn

I must have been stuck in a hole across the river as the White Rabbits have been hopping about enchanting people with their super cool music. If you haven't seen them—all six of them serious talents with their intense drumbeats, solid vocals, and entrancing melodies and harmony, you must see them now. These guys are amazing!
I thought I was blown away by another break-through band, Mutemath, a few years ago, but I am totally blown away by this band's live performance of "Percussion Gun" and "The Lady Vanishes" in Yahoo's "The New Now" music; Percussion's live version is as good, if not even more engaging, as the official video less the creative music video production aspects.





This is their earlier video.

J Fallon's and J Timberlake's Awesome Musical Chemistry

...I need not say more, except watch this super entertaining clip.

Newsboys "Born Again" @ Ocean Grove

Recently been hailed as Newsboys 2.0, the band is indeed born again, as the title track of their latest album proclaims, with new frontman, Michael Tait.Video taken @ the concert held in Ocean Grove, NJ on April 21, 2010.

Matt Maher: Alive Again

Matt Maher’s album, ALIVE AGAIN, so aptly named, is a breath of fresh air in today’s polluted airwaves, wherein “cool tunes”, per se, rule over substance, and mere noise have replaced real music, as these misguided and image-driven artists, in blind pursuit of relevance, continue to embrace bland formulas and popularity over their God-given talents and musical integrity.

This unpretentious, stripped-down music displays a genuine balance between substance and creativity, without the latter running amok solely for its own sake; take note of Maher’s vocal ease and Audrey Assad’s cool harmony in a couple of tracks, especially in "Garden". With its lyrical and melodic strength, this album is solid and certainly deserves some serious airtime in its entirety, though my favorites are "Alive Again", "Sing Over Your Children", "Hold Us Together", "Love Comes Down", "Letting Go", "You Were on the Cross", "Christ is Risen", and "Garden". Each track eloquently delivers a message that turns your thoughts to our glorious Creator who richly blesses, even with eternal life, which many of us would rather reject, instead of actively seek or honestly question God.

Pick up the album, if you care to nourish your spirit. The music is a gem for the jaded listener, and may very well make you feel alive again. Plainly put, it is food for the soul and the lyrics are included in the no fuss, yet artful insert.

"I was looking outside
As if love would ever want to hide”

“No scheme of man…
separatesUs from Your hand…”

“I flirt with the world…
But Your gaze stops my heart”

“Glorious beyond measure
Bending low to wash His traitor’s
feet…
Why would a king do such a thing?”

“Where were you when all that I’ve hoped
for
Came crashing down in shambles around
me”

“O death, where is your sting?
O hell, where is your victory?
O church come stand in the light
Our God is not dead
He’s alive! He’s alive!”

“Your love’s so strongI can’t recall
What was this thing
They called the fall?
…the mournful
rejoicing
Seeing through tears
Of peace overflowing…”

Newsboys' Miracles @ Ocean Grove

I just love the energy in the song, "Miracles", by the Newsboys; it's got the 80's vibe, reminiscent of the period's pop exuberance in the likes of Iggy Pop and The Cars. With their latest album, Born Again, and new frontman, Michael Tait, the Newsboys has indeed been reborn, and this rebirth only proves promising. This concert was held at Ocean Grove, New Jersey, August 21, 2010. Video taken by Gordon Saylor of Society's Elite and edited by me of course.

Interview with Newsboys' Duncan Phillips

Exclusive interview with Duncan Phillips of Newsboys on the band's recent rebirth with their latest album, "Born Again", and new lead singer, long-time friend, and vocal powerhouse, Michael Tait, who may very well carry the torch, passed on to him by ex-frontman, Peter Furler, far beyond fresh starts and onto greater musical heights. This is not to say that the band's lasting vigor, with Furler in the picture, is now overshadowed and will soon be forgotten, especially considering the level that they've reached; on the contrary, Furler, Joel, Davis, Frankenstein, and Phillips would perhaps always be deemed as the quintessential Newsboys. But the band's future with Tait, formerly of dc Talk, has already proved promising, with their "Born Again" album shooting up to No.4 in its opening week on the Billboard's Top 200, alongside Sting, Eminem, and MIA. During the Newsboys' recent concert at Ocean Grove, New Jersey, Duncan sat down to reflect on his band's past, present, and future with, his family and his faith, with host, Gordon Saylor of Society's Elite. This video was recorded by Joseph Saylor and edited by yours truly.

Summer Music at the Park

With all the madness going on in the world, it's good to sit back once in a while and hang with real musicians, such as these folks who entertained onlookers at Washington Square Park in the summer of 2007; where was I in the subsequent summers of 2008 and 2009?—I wonder. Too bad I didn't come up to find out the group's name then. Hopefully, they'll be out there again this summer. The prospect of great music at the park for free is too good to miss, even if later you should feel like dropping a bill or two in their container. It's still a breath of fresh air from all the mess around us.

Lily Allen - "It's Not Me, It's You"

Lily Allen has graduated from mere flippancy in her sophomoric first album to a classier, more composed cheek with such melodic ease and lyrical wit in conveying her insights in It’s Not Me, It’s You. This time, she confronts societal norms, conformity, youth, relationships, and self-absorption of all sorts—in short, life—and calls for an openness that’s evocative of the late George Carlin, unapologetic, but that’s altogether chic, sassy, and melodious. With its delightfully varied sound that’s intermittently indie, jazzy, retro, as well as country, this album is a complete fare that’s entirely seasoned with sophisticated sarcasm for those finer, contemplative moments.

With the opening track’s, “Everyone’s At It”, sobering message about drug prevalence which infect all of society, “from grown politicians to adolescents”, and that could only be solved by admission, the song is in sheer contrast to its breezy melody, easy synth, and subtle beats.

Likewise, “The Fear” has a contradictory upbeat sound for such grave lyrics describing a human frailty caused by worldliness:

“I want to be rich and I want lots of money I don’t care about clever…about funny I want loads of clothes…diamonds…people die while trying to find them…take my clothes off……that’s how you get famous…I don’t know what’s right or real anymore…how I’m meant to feel anymore...cause I’m being taken over by the fearLife’s about film stars and less about mothers…all about fast cars and cussing each otherBut it doesn’t matter ‘cause I’m packing plastic…makes my life so f**king fantastic And I am a weapon of massive consumption…how I’m programmed to functionI’ll look at the Sun and I’ll look in the mirror……I’m not a saint but I’m not a sinner…everything’s cool…I’m getting thinner…I’m being taken over by fear”

“Not Fair” is a galloping western bop that’s in sardonic contrast to what’s being sung, which is the utter dilemma of being in a relationship fraught with mounting discontent over the kind of sexual intimacy one is engaged in.

“22” is an 80’s jingle reminiscent of Belinda Carlisle’s “Circle in the Sand” or Madonna’s “Cherish”, but where they cooed about a seeming frivolity, Allen coolly croons about the difficult feat of confronting societal standards which declares that the only thing left for a 30 year old lady to do is to wait for the “man of her dreams”. Watch the video.

“I Could Say” is a song of liberation from that certain “chip” on the shoulder, wherein Allen cheekily chirps, “Since you’ve gone, I’ve lost that chip on my shoulder… I’ve gotten older…the whole wide world is my stage… …I’ve been let out of my cage”.

“Back to the Start” has perhaps the fastest danceable rhythm, as in the 80’s new wave with a subtle chime-like synth, that conversely plays a message of apology for one’s past jealousies and an appeal to start over.

“F**k You” sweetly expresses defiance against intolerance, with a kick in the air, joined arms a la the Rockettes, repeated chanting of “F***k you very very much”, and sticking both tongue and lollipop in the cheek, while jumping to the tune’s pulsing beats.

The following tracks have similarly breezy melodies, but with slightly slower tempos:
While “Never Gonna Happen” relates an unsteady relationship, “Who’d Have Known” examines a growing affection. And “Chinese” is quite the song, as well as the food, to have around when thinking about cuddling in front of the TV with a dear one. And whereas Allen blithely questions god in “Him” with unquestionable cynicism, she airily hoots about a father’s neglect and desertion with unmistakable sarcasm in “He Wasn’t There”.

Have this album for easy, thoughtful listening with a bit of shake. It’s especially soothing for those inspired moments when you’re itching to break out the paint, write, or simply be creative in other ways.

The Ting Tings

Have you heard their ting? That you haven’t heard their tunes is very unlikely since their debut album was released sometime last summer, topping the U.K. chart and sending the tireless Madonna to rest then. Here are my two cents on yet another grand act to emerge from Big Ben’s soil: upbeat and offbeat. Fresh is hard to come by these days even in a highly advanced society, and the irony is we’ve been there, done that, seen and heard it all, and recycled, revised, and repackaged so heavily as we’ve figured out the formulas, that there seems to be very little left to be discovered as original, especially in music. Hence, it’s always refreshing to see those who manage to reinvent and rise above the crowd every now and then, regardless of how long they stay up. And when one creates a distinct sound, it’s got a certain ring, or ting, that will cause you to listen again and again. And this dynamic duo’s certainly got it. They most certainly have that “ting” factor. The funky fusion of Jules De Martino’s dominant drumbeats and Katie White’s sometimes brazen, sometimes fragile, and frequently distressed or defiant vocals merged with their various other musical elements and influences, one of which echoes a pared-down, 80’s new-wave among others, power the invisible machine behind their playful sound. Their music is a little fresher and groovier than most of its contemporaries that currently saturate our airwaves. Even as the duo chant “We Started Nothing” incessantly in their finale, the 8-tract album can serve as an instant tonic to get you started in those days needing a bit of jolt, with Great DJ, That’s Not My Name, Fruit Machine, Shut Up…, Keep Your Head, We Walk, Impacilla Carpisung, along with the title tract, or just keep you coolly on your feet, with Traffic Light and Be The One, even if only for a little more than half an hour, unless you have it on repeat.

"Without Love I won't survive"

I've forgotten about these guys until recently, courtesy of their newest song, "Black Heart Inertia".

Incubus may be onto something here...

Incubus - New Music - More Music Videos

I'd love to hate this part right here, but I don't, so I have to admit that I love it

I say I'd love to hate this, only because I find most pop music not just like bubble gum, but also like cheese doodles, which is entirely devoid of any nutrition except for fat overload, and leaves a nasty aftertaste and an equally disgusting, sticky, yellow residue on your fingers. But this one's got me. It's definitely not cheese doodles. I have to admit that I love it. It's good chocolate, this song is. The melody's great and the lyric's quite alright. Nicole's voice is incredible. Fine vocals in pop music is so rare that when a voice stands out, such as Christina Aguelera's, Pink's, and a few others, one would be deaf not to notice. Pop this music on and you'd be dancing and singing through your difficult times, well, unless you prefer blowing bubbles or chomping cheese doodles...

By the way, I don't hate that my wedding anniversary coincides with the presidential inauguration. So, although I've had my reservations about our government regardless of who presides, neither do I hate new perspectives nor the atmosphere of new hopes...I may be humming this song along all throughout the year. Hope I don't get sick of it too soon, as what usually happens when I overdo something...then I can really chant "I hate this part right here..." I'll just be wearing this song out in the meantime...

Hello Stranger, Do You Have Shiny Toy Guns?

This is my take on the music that I still appreciate despite of the deluge of musical creativity that emerges year after year. Creativity and the excess it creates can get overwhelming, and, unfortunately, even tiresome. But there are always those that stand out from the rest.

Hello Stranger: Hello Strangers
I gave a copy of this album as a Christmas gift to my older sister and also to a former friend in 2006, and glad am I that I did. Great music is timeless, and I consider this album as one to remain a classic. I play it whenever I need a different kind of boost in a day needing a stimulant other than the usual coffee, tea, candy, and, yes, even friends—you get the point. It’s a treat for one’s self on a personal retreat. It’s a different kind of chocolate. It’s music that evokes inner strength during difficult times, less the sophomoric angst. It exudes youthful fun, yet is lyrically mature. It’s profound and inspiring, minus the gloom. It’s laidback without the stupor. It’s a fine cup of tea without the English pomp. (Anyway, this is a group from L.A., I thought I might add, but you might have known that already.)

This album is coherent from track to track and the solid vocal, which is simultaneously angelic and raspy, is nicely complemented by melodies that are upbeat enough to dance to, or soothing enough to serenade and carry you away. The point is this: Hello stranger is as cool and comforting as a breeze and, of course, a box of fine chocolates like Lindt’s, sans the calories of course. My favorite is “Learn Again to Feel”, along with “Robody”, “Her in These Lights”, “Which Side Is Mine”, “Plain and Simple”, “Dancing for No One”, and “Let It Ride”.

Shiny Toy Guns: We are Pilots (v3)

This is another album I still listen to, though it debuted in 2006 also. While this music is a bit angst-ridden, it’s definitely armored with an ample supply of funky, electronic beats to counter the anguish being sung about. Their music, supported by poignant lyrics and strong vocals, grants integrity to what the group wants to portray in their looks. This band’s offbeat style (image), music, and message are cohesive. It’s convincing. I bought it and, surely, many others have too.

Apparently, the band has released their new album, along with a new muse. I don’t know the story behind it, which is definitely somewhere out there on the net just clicks away for the curious. My take is this: This album is another awesome music to have around, especially when one is thirsting for a louder self-expression, literally. Shiny Toy Guns screams the message that it’s okay to voice out what you think every now and then, with or without a latte, or an Earl Grey for that matter. My favorites are “Don’t Cry Out”, “Jackie Will Save Me”, and “Shaken”.

Remy Zero, Oprah, and Bono, please Save Me...

Here’s an amazing live performance worth watching over and over again, well, until you get sick of the phrase “Save Me”.

I hadn’t watched Smallville, since the second, or first, season. Put it this way, life happens, and when it does, it shakes your safe schedule and then some. Nothing’s set on stone, remember, except maybe the length of one’s existence written on a nicely shaped tomb. Anyway, with the show’s newly release 7th season, I was reminded of its catchy theme song by Remy Zero. No, Remy didn’t remind me. I meant the band Remy Zero sang it…I mean played it. Cinjun Tate was the vocalist, of course and no, not Bono. Come on people, give other raw talent and others in general a chance please!—especially when Oprah’s got the whole world in her hands as it is, while Bragelina—oh is it Brangel, Brang, Bran, or Bra, I’m pretty sure it’s one of those, though the last combination of two names is the best for its sheer succinctness and anyway, you know who’s got the kids backs. No, no one’s taking anyone’s child away; it isn’t our business but theirs, Madonna’s, and Britney’s anyway—no pun intended there, either, on giving others a chance to glory. I happen to appreciate U2’s music as much as I enjoyed House of pain, since my older brother continuously played it as my younger brother jumped around , and leaving me, as one might expect, with a split personality, or to put it more gently, a varied taste in music. Okay, they do sound similar, all right? Yes, Cinjun and Bono. But Bono’s even got his Nude clothing line. No it’s not a sham, like the Emperor’s clothes. It’s authentic. I mean, the apparel is, for being real. No, I don’t mean that he isn’t genuine; his motives are his business, not mine. And yes, I’m still talking about Bono and this is starting to get ridiculous, because this posting isn’t even supposed to be about him, but the band Remy Zero and its vocalist with the incredible voice. You can hardly find much raw talent like that nowadays, especially when special effects abound, like the “megaphone or intercom” effect, which gives the voice an oddly nasal and distant sound that’s so common in today’s music. Weren’t these devices previously only used for announcements by coaches and principles in schools and on sports grounds? But who dares get in the way of creativity? Surely, not I. Besides, those sound effects actually work well in most types of music, particularly those with fast beats like dance, house, and techno. Anyhow, I just found out that Remy Zero disbanded when I searched You Tube for its latest music, which was officially declared in the former band's official website. And it seems that, at first glance, anyway, meaning if you check strictly just the initial page of the massive search results, current info on the band is practically nonexistent, except for Wikipedia’s somewhat dated, general account of each of the band mates’ collaboration with other artists, though there are a few links for a tad more info on each of their new, yet not so new, musical projects after the group’s break-up. Apparently, Cinjun Tate and his brother teamed up again, like they did in Remy Zero, to form an alternative rock duo called the Spartan Fidelity, and later worked with another duo, the Yoshida Brothers, whose sound was used by Nintendo for its Wii commercial. Meanwhile, info on Cinjun Tate is even more scant, which basically reports that he’s an Alabama native who grew up with both musician and artist parents and three brothers, and who was married to Alyssa Milano. So, if you’re completely mad about Remy Zero and seriously haven’t got anything better to do than conduct a heavy research, go ahead and dig into an endless search list, otherwise, just keep listening to the already available music by the former band, or still, try to scratch the virtual surface that is Spartan Fidelity, Isidore, and Sleepwell. And do sleep well, maybe to the tune of Save Me, as you sing along right before you fall into dream's realm.

Hoboken Arts and Music Festival, Wicked Monkey, and May is So Over because of hasty June...

May is gone and June was hasty. School already ended for most students and as anticipated by many, summer is here. (The last time I checked, I was just watching the 4th of July fireworks dazedly; I need about another month to catch up with July which is a couple of weeks shy of being kaput as well, so I’ll put that subject off until then when I’m entirely there.) Apparently, time just zips by, leaving me utterly winded…there’s never enough of time to do anything much with and, much less, everything. So I’ll just have to make a minor adjustment and forget about all of my plans this summer. There. That should take care of this funny business of hyperventilating. And to think, I was even so ecstatic about this fiery season during the spring showers…

Blame it on May. It—my ludicrous perception of summer euphoria—all started with May, which I’ll return to shortly since this posting is supposed to be about my spring events, an account of which is already two months delayed, thanks to the flower power that is May and its onslaught of activities. May subliminally instigated my blasted, out-of-control summer notion that is almost uncanny and not funny at all. She (May) is the culprit that spawns events in an incredibly rapid succession, leaving one with hardly a break in between to heave a second wind, and spews them to an already swamped and robotic yet still very acquiescent society who knows naught but to mechanically nod through their overscheduled days and recite phrases like “What time does it start?” for confirmation—such confirmations are sure to satisfy man’s insatiable need for affirmation. (Wake us, George Carlin—such a loss to society, who shall continue your reason and your fight-less fight?—and those of you who are brave enough to act on your grumbles, Wake us!—us—mindless drones of mankind drifting listlessly, though fully functional like robots, in a world submerged in a mass hysteria for “filling”. Forget about doing—there is great and inexpressible spiritual sense in the doing of something that is united with the heart. Otherwise, it is only filling… gorging… hording. We have an enormous craving to fill a huge void—an immense, dark hole that is man’s unquenchable thirst for approval. Hence, the birth of palm pilots—aha! The power to connect, confirm, and ultimately organize—or control—is in our hands. Once again, we have achieved instant gratification for our immense need to belong, at least for the time being. And palm pilots are almost archaic due to the speed of our technological advancement. We have moved onto smarter, sleeker, more sophisticated technology that boasts more features and functions and buttons; buttons are easier to push, never mind the ancient levers as they require more physical work like playing with a stick that requires more mental exertion otherwise known as creativity. As Carlin clearly expressed his thoughts on society and its children, albeit abrasive his views are, children aren’t allowed to play with sticks nor stare at a tree anymore; they are far too busy to merely commune with nature and stare and think and wonder. These children are now a new breed, highly advanced and ambitious. They are a class of their own, a modern hybrid that needs to belong, attain, and win. They are serious and focused. And they mean business, or their parents do, at least. Hence, the emergence of after-school, weekend, and summer programs, because the normal schooling just isn’t sufficient to hone a child anymore, and the adults at home are crammed (their palm pilots say so) to engage with their kids with as little as a mere glimpse, never mind a conversation which requires too much mental effort. In fact, the standard school’s performance is now substandard, so there is only room for higher expectations and excellence by providing more school assignments and activities. And the adults are of course extremely concerned. They can’t take their invisible eyes off their kids as they wade through their pool of commitments. These children are going to be our future leaders, so there is no time to waste. There is only enough time for grooming these youths to perfection—we need future leaders like Bush and Clinton, and majority of the government officials that currently manage our society. Doing more is the only way to keep up. And make sure that you fix others and their backyards first before your own. Keeping up is the only way to prove something—to gain another human being’s admiration and approval to ultimately mean something. Because “God is never pleased”. A catholic church newsletter said so. Wait something feels awry. Eerie actually. Maybe it’s just my neurosis.

Okay, maybe I am just connecting dots and being totally neurotic. But listen, it is probably really April’s fault. Perhaps, she is the one liable for this sort of event obsession with her spring and Easter hype and, also, whoever it was responsible for making March cover Easter too, as if there were not enough leprechauns and clovers to manage its merrymaking all through another month of craze. And weren’t we still suffering from the hang-over that was valentine’s madness and its colossal stuffed teddies that lined up the store shelves?

Now back to May. What happened in May…hmm...oh, I remember now. It was my son’s interview for another school on the 5th, his birthday party on the 10th, his friends’ party on the 16th and the 25th, also the day of our friend’s get-together, Hoboken’s Art’s and Music Festival on the 4th, and oh, mother’s day on the 11th. The month was also stuffed with school activities such as field day, fun night, and early dismissals. And as if that weren’t enough to keep me panting on all fours and trying to hold on to dear sanity for the third grader living with me—forget about the roses on mother’s day, I definitely had no time to smell them…wait, I can’t even remember if I received any…I remember going to our friend’s get-together that afternoon…I had breakfast in bed, courtesy of my thoughtful son, assisted by my husband (check); cards (check); lunch at Houlihan’s and having on my dainty, chiffon, light pink dress (check); and Chip Kidd’s edition, Peanuts: the art of Charles M. Schulz, a treat from my husband which I absolutely enjoyed, because Sparky’s work is truly remarkable, and I consider him a genius like Theodore Giesel. So, I hope to write more about this special edition of the Peanuts in another posting.

Anyway, as I mentioned earlier, as if the excitement weren’t enough to last well into the summer and past it, both Indiana Jones and Narnia happened to emerge from their creators’ closets on the same month. So, we packed our weekends with events that included the movies, like we were packing for a long vacation overseas. (How I wish it was actually a vacation overseas in a tropical oasis, like last year’s in Guam.) Fortunately, Iron Man was released around the time of my son’s 9th birthday party, so we took care of seeing the movie and having the party simultaneously. Ahh, what joy!—one stone took care of a couple of birds…there really must be something to be got from aphorisms... My son was allowed to invite a few friends—a few meaning as much as the fingers on a set of normal hands, because the day of inviting the whole class, in my book at least, had culminated in 1st grade—to the movies which was immediately followed by a party at our house. What else could you do for a 9 year old boy? Clowns were creepy, and arts and crafts a little too cheesy for these slightly older children, most of which were boys. In previous years, we had been there and done a Veggietales’ pizza party, Star Wars with Darth Vader as a special guest, and Sam’s Green Eggs and Ham a year after Bob the Builder turned the cake into a nice yellow property with sugar grass. No way could we have snuck in time for cloud-watching or tree-communing for the kids. Sorry, George. Ah, but for us adults, my husband and I, at least, did I mention having squeezed in time at the park before sundown for our sanity’s sake and for planting on Memorial Day, the 26th , too? All these activities happened in one deep, long breath that is called May, which was also crammed with schoolwork and karate classes every week. And that’s just my son’s life which apparently overlaps my husband’s and mine.

And by the way, as those events transpired, I was also in the middle of unfinished paintings, shirt and bag designs, and unpublished writings. In fact, I’ve been in the middle of all these projects for a while now. It’ll be a great relief if I could complete a dozen paintings for a small showing at a bookstore, café, or other similar venues, and definitely a huge treat to have prepared a good amount of shirts and bags to sell at future art fairs.

Before I cease babbling, I have to talk about the Hoboken Arts and Music Festival that took place on the 4th of May, Sunday. It was somewhat enjoyable. Detecting a hint of boredom in my tone, don’t you? Well, I don’t know if it’s just me and my self-detected ADD, but the event has become tiresome for one reason or another. Maybe because I was not given a chance to prove that, unlike most of the silly shirts that currently plague our malls, there is real art in my shirt designs to the snooty phone lady, who had rather tersely replied during my application inquiry that “they”—the mysterious and sacred festival committee—would just “ignore” my samples,. The festival air also reeked, not of art and music, but lifelessness and the unpleasant odor of mere business hullabaloo. This is not to disregard the market’s role in the creative sphere at all, otherwise the artist wouldn’t be able to cultivate his craft and carry on. But once commerce undermines the creative process, the very heart of creativity is lost, leaving only a creative mirage with the stench of commercialism at its core.
Okay, on the other hand, I did enjoy the Wicked booth, its lively staff, and promotional perks, which included sunscreens and a free snapshot of you and your group complete with props and backdrop. And my son enjoyed the foot long hotdog, as he always had since he started coming along and been able to consume a hotdog of that length. And since I began coming to this event twice a year in spring and in fall, my husband and I have started collecting a souvenir or two. So far, we’ve acquired jewelry, an African musical instrument, and toys such as a pirate marionette, a set of wooden bow and arrows, a wooden rubber-band gun, all unique, and absolutely hand-made. We even tried some delicious dips. This time I decided to pick up another musical instrument, which was some type of a Mexican recorder or flute, in addition to my son’s second marionette—a blue-eyed, lavender alien. That’s just the point of these festivities, to discover, celebrate, and support artists and local musicians, and sample a variety of international foods. If only the foods are a little less pricey and the music’s turned down a notch, these treats could be appreciated more, while the people get to enjoy their food and conversations with music in the background. The $5 tin cup of old fashioned soda poured out from wooden barrels was a real treat though. And other than wishing that I saw more people supporting the artists by buying their products, I actually am looking forward to the autumn event. Do I really wish business to pour over these artists, my counterparts? I do…I have to, as it is also one of my deepest desires for my art to be seen, appreciated, and ultimately purchased for my official validation…
Ay, humans…so simply complicated. Can’t live with or without…just like summer.