I really like words.

A lot. Maybe it was all the word games my mom would play with us, or reading with my dad, or helping my uncle Paul come up with mirror palindromes (a palindrome that only uses letters that are mirror images of themselves, so you can literally hold them up to a mirror and they still spell the same word. TOM, AM I MAMOT?). Regardless, if you're ever wondering what I'm thinking about, the answer is probably rhymes, or puns, or sentence rhythms, or ambigrams, or fonts.

Today I've been thinking about words that are spelled so differently from the way the sound that, for varying lengths of time, I've thought they were two different words for the same thing.

For instance, until a couple summers ago, when I worked in a jewelry store learning, among other things, to solder, I pronounced that word soul-dur. I knew it had something to do with binding metal to metal, maybe even synonymous with a word I would've spelled "sauter". The day I realized they were the same word was a singularity of embarrassment, a mental leap that seemed significant and silly at the same time.

The first words word I remember combining in this fashion were was genre (zhahn-ruh), which at the time I was pronouncing (jen-uh-ruh). I'd heard people say the word Zhahn Ra, but it seemed about as mystical and scholarly as the egyptian gods it alluded to (third grade, Mrs. Papadakis, all my friends had Mrs. John, learning ancient mythologies, masking tape over the nude picture of Aphrodite on the bookshelf, Mrs. John's class was decorated like a jungle but Mrs. Papadakis was from Crete and when she talked about Mt. Olympus she paused between thickly accented words for the deep exhales of homesickness). I remember coming home and frantically telling my mom how I'd figured it out, about genre. She smiled. I wasn't embarrassed then. I was a triumphant explorer of language.

I don't know if you've had this specific experience, but if you haven't, it's not that different from  thinking, for example, maybe until you were 14 or so, that the lyrics to this song were "If you'll be my buddy, God," making the "I can call you Betty" line more than a little sacrilegious, and getting laughed at, riotously, even. Maybe your family still brings it up from time to time, when they feel like making fun of you.

Damn it, Paul Simon, annunciate!

Announcing...

A few more things:

The album will be $10,

 and cover the admission price.

***

No opening acts, 

but guest musicians will include:

Julia Mecham

Beaux Underwood

David Darais

Matteo

The Williams Family Band

***

There will be yummy things to eat.

***

I'm really, really excited for this!

***

I'll probably make a couple more posters that are less vague,

and don't make it look like the band "weary as we are" 

is releasing an album called "Luke Williams." 

Mostly because I like making posters :)

***

Asterisks look like snowflakes.

***

I love you!

Luke

"I want to punch him in his stupid face."

I'm doing some research for one of my final papers, and there is a twenty-something woman with dark hair and a small chin standing directly to my right, talking on her cell phone about how much she hates the "pretentious douchebag" on the other side of the coffeeshop who is having a loud (and admittedly rather one-sided) conversation, which is bothering her while she is studying. Such wonderfully thick contradiction.

Neither of them, incidentally, have stupid faces.

technically? maybe.

If I'm sad about the visceral, beautiful, oppressive smog, and it pulls a thick cough from the throat it's coating, and saline tears from my blue-green eyes, am I crying?

Happy Birthday Jeff, and Mama, You've Been On My Mind

Jeff Buckley would be 44 years old today if he hadn't walked into Wolf River Harbor with his steel-toed boots on. Luckily, although he only recorded one studio album, he left behind a ridiculous amount of live and bootleg material, most of which has been posthumously released and is easy to find. If you're anything like me, Live at Sin-é (Legacy Edition) is the album to get. Gone is the 90s grunge-flair of his studio recordings, which actually turned me off from his music for a couple years. The songs on Sin-é are stripped down, just the man and his telecaster. Most of the tracks are too long to keep the average blog-reader's attention (myself included, I know how it goes), but I'll link you to some of my favorites in case you're interested. Otherwise, just check out this great Bob Dylan cover for now. It's not from Sin-é, but it'll give you a taste:



Mama, You've Been On My Mind --- Bob Dylan


Perhaps it is the color of the sun cut flat
An' cov'rin' the crossroads I'm standing at,
Or maybe it's the weather or something like that,
But mama, you been on my mind.

I mean no trouble, please don't put me down, don’t get upset,
I am not pleading or saying that "I can't forget you."
I do not pace the floor bowed down and bent, but yet,
Mama, you been on my mind.

Even though my eyes are hazy and my thoughts they might be narrow,
Where you been don't bother me or bring me down in sorrow.
I don't even mind who you'll be waking with tomorrow,
But mama, you're just on my mind.

I am not askin' you to say words like "yes" or "no,"
Please understand me, I have no place I’m callin’ you to go.
I'm just whispering to myself so I can't pretend that I don't know,
But mama, you're just on my mind.

When you wake up in the mornin' and look inside your mirror,
You know I won't be next to you, you know I won't be near.
I'd just be curious to know if you can see yourself as clear
As someone who has had you on his mind.

The best of Jeff Buckley on YouTube, curated by Luke Williams
More Dylan covers: If You See Her, Say Hello (starts @1:09), Just Like A Woman
Original Stuff: Lover, You Should've Come Over is the good original from Sin-é on YouTube.
Etc: If You Knew (Nina Simone cover), The Way Young Lovers Do (Van Morrison cover).

Holy hannah, that's a lot links. Most of those songs are 7-10 minutes long, too. Sorry. I don't know, I guess if you're bored, and you need some background music, there you go. Myself, I can't get enough of it.

Happy B-day, and thanks, Mr. Buckley.

Cyr

This is mesmerizing.

Part circus routine, part modern dance, total respect to this guy for 1) his talent, and 2) his graceful performance.

The piano/cello backing track makes the whole thing seem so serene, not a display of physical strength or even human ability, but something cycling, a flowing series of movements, as natural as a wave breaking over the sand on a calm morning.