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art house

Just got back from seeing the Danielson Faily Movie at Bryant Lake Bowl in uptown with my friend Brad from High School. A good, weird day all around. I also went for a walk around lake Calhoun with some other friends which started all the weirdness. It was great to take a day off. Walking around the lake reminded me of how much the uptown area of Minneapolis has changed. When I met Connie my wife I had a studio condo on Dean Parkway across from the lake that I bought for about $14k, gutted and remodeled it. I'd bike around the lake and watch all the windsurfers and volleyball in the summer and think life couldn't get any cooler. When we got married I sold it and we got a 1 bedroom house in south Minneapolis. I couldn't afford anything near that neighborhood now. It got too cool for it's own good.


I don't see Brad very often so it was a fun treat. As the legend goes he shares the dubious honor of giving me my first mohawk back in 1984 which is also claimed by my friend Rebecca. I can't remember so I let them both be happy. Brad and I were uptown groovers going to First Ave watching bands nobody had heard of and dressing like we cared way back when. To go to Bryant Lake Bowl and hang among the young, tattoed, pierced and tragically hip was a reminder of how little we've really strayed on the inside. He insisted he pay for some Scrapped and Brethren DVD's for gifts and we both laughed at how we never saw any of this movie stuff coming.

It was great to watch a movie that technically sucked but was so honest and fun. People laughed and were inspired. They just took it for face value and enjoyed the moment. There was no critical analysis, no sales pitches, just hanging out and enjoying a group experience. It reminded me of the decade I spent playing music and gigging and how much work, struggle and raw beauty it is. The movie had a scene of Sufjan Stevens singing "To be alone with You" from his Seven Swans album. I've been listening to it about a dozen times over as I'm typing this up and it's breaking my heart. Sometimes Sunday mornings and Sunday evenings are a million hours apart. It made me think about how simple belief should be. I started writing a song on the way home that I'll never finish but had to get something out:

I didn't care
when I saw you, when I saw you.
The judge and jury were not there when I saw you.
The law was lost, the crime was gone,
the looser was the righteous one and
I didn't care when I saw you.

I couldn't fear
when I saw you, when I saw you.
I wasn't scared when I saw you.
The honest eyes I gazed upon
could not lie so I hung on.
I couldn't fear when I saw you.

You were right here
when I saw you, when I saw you.
Surprised that you appeared when I saw you.
Time was gone, I heard the calls,
but no one else was there at all.
You were right here when I saw you.

I fell asleep
when I saw you, when I saw you.
I prayed my soul to keep when I saw you.
The foolishness that makes you strive
is worthless when you've just arrived.
I fell asleep when I saw you.

Good Night.

wes

posted by wes @ 11:58 PM