FIRST KISS by Tatia PIlieva

March 11, 2014 § Leave a comment

See this enchanting 3:28 film FIRST KISS by Tatia PIlieva.

We asked twenty strangers to kiss for the first time….

Published to YouTube on Mar 10, 2014, Film presented by WRENMusic by Soko “We Might be Dead Tomorrow”

JOHN F. KENNEDY 5/29/17 – 11/22/63

November 22, 2013 § Leave a comment

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“SHH! THAT MEANS THERE’S A FIREWORK COMING,” BUT, TONIGHT YOU BELONG TO ME

September 27, 2013 § Leave a comment

YOU BELONG TO ME

There are always fireworks coming, but as long as there are parents (Benjamin Ames) who sing late night lullabies with their children (Adelaide) to strums on pink ukuleles, I think the odds are better than even that the fireworks on sleepless nights – will be mostly delightful. (Richard Dawkins and Jon Stewart – 2013)

TONIGHT YOU BELONG TO ME

TONIGHT YOU BELONG TO ME

TONIGHT YOU BELONG TO ME

Tolkien, speaking through Gandalf, seems to agree.

Galadriel:  Mithrandir, why the Halfling?

Gandalf:  I don’t know. Saruman believes that it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. I have found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keeps the darkness at bay; simple acts of kindness and love. Why Bilbo Baggins? Perhaps it is because I am afraid, and he gives me courage.

 

Tonight You Belong To Me:

by Travis Preston and Koko Laroo – 2012

by Eddie Vedder and Cat Power – 2011

by Zooey Deschenel and Ben Schwartz - 2011

by Steve Martin and Bernadette Peters from The Jerk - 1979

by The Lennon Sisters - 1956

by Gene Austin – 1927

I SOUND MY BARBARIC YAWP OVER THE ROOFS OF THE WORLD

October 30, 2012 § Leave a comment

SERGIO ROMO

Like all poets, living and dead, The San Francisco Giants 2012.

I too am not a bit tamed—I too am untranslatable;
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, 1900

PLAY

July 4, 2012 § 2 Comments

without your watch

or your phone.

express yourself

to a fan.

dance,

sing,

ask profound questions.

think deeply,

and broadly,

and don’t forget the peanuts.

ask a friend

to paint,

to draw,

to make something

glow.

oh yes,

seek great fortune.

jump at the chance.

touch someone

in their mind.

construct cloud concepts.

learn something new.

eat for color.

surprise yourself.

go

perhaps to sea

oh, you’ll see.

and write

it all down.

happy summer!

NEVER LIE TO YOUR BARISTA

January 20, 2012 § 1 Comment

Juliet is my coffee-house name.

It stated as such a little thing. A sleep deprived Sunday game, one of a thousand my fiancé and I invent and play without seeking agreement from each other, or setting terms and conditions, fully expecting the other to simply comply with the one improv rule, “Yes, And.” If I respond, “Josephine,” to cup-name-writing-barista, my fiancé replies, “Napoleon.” (Famous pairs. Go.)

If he responds Ben, I respond Jerry, straight-faced, no matter what, no matter who, without telltale side-long acknowledging glance, or post-celebratory 3rd grade sniggering. (007 meets Sponge Bob. Check.)

And so the game continued:  Popeye/Oliveoil, Laurel/Hardy, Joanie/Chachi, Larry/Sergey, Zeus/Heres (getting more obscure, and tricky because one of us would forget about it and catch the other unprepared – but we’re game, “Yes, And,” to pick-up the challenge.) But one day our invisibility cracked, our anonymity failed, the con was over, the game folded, and the music stopped on Juliet.

“Good morning Juliet. Chai tea today?” One of our baristas asked.

But no one mentioned Romeo. Just the Juliet.

And it wouldn’t be so bad, but, sometimes I go in without my accomplice, and it’s been — a while now.

Once I produced a long string of names in rapid succession in an attempt to elicit a playful and confusing detraction and an opening to get back to my original name, “Katherine Elizabeth Juliet Hadley Von Housen,” is the way it spilled out — to which she responded, “Juliet. Right.”

Once I paid with my Visa and clearly raised there in plastic fraudulence was an alias I had never used before, but she calmly returned my card and thanked Juliet.

When people learn your brand (something, something, something, starts with Juliet) it’s really hard to change, or even steer slightly to one side. Once I very slowly and clearly said, “Jul-i-a” and my red Sharpie penned pseudonym still read Jul-i-e-t.  People desensitize so quickly, even to agreeable, pretty morning faces (and I suppose I should be grateful that Bambi or Barnum didn’t stimulate a neurotransmitter bridge to long-term memory.)

So what was to be done?

Should I do the halting Hugh Grant mea culpa, “Look, my, fiancé and I, we meant no harm, but, in short, if I may summarize, in brief, we are idiots, and we’ll happily commit suicide after finishing this delicious beverage, which you make exceptionally well by the way, perfect, temperature, and fffoammm…”

I can’t go on forever with a deceit that grows larger with friendship and familiarity with people who have now become neighbors? People who remark on my little things: hair cut, vacation tan, remember my preferences — it’s exhausting. As all lies are. And I’ve also slightly spoiled my tea with this tempest of foolishness and growing guilt. It had to end.

“Look. It’s Denise,” I said.

“I know,” my barista said to my surprise.

“You know?” I asked. “How do you know?”

“I know,” she smiled. (Mental-chattering, pre-caffeinated public. Go.)

“Look, my, fiancé and I, we meant no harm, but, in short, if I may summarize, in brief, we are idiots, and we’ll happily commit suicide after finishing this delicious beverage, which you make exceptionally well by the way, perfect, temperature, and fffoammm…” I said.

“It’s ok, I get it,” she nodded. (Complete lack of schadenfreude, attempt at lighthearted Hugh Grant humor. Check.)

“So, we’re good.”

“Yessss,” she whispered, smiling as she wrote my name.

I collected my warm, sweet-smelling chai and on the side of my cup was the familiar scribble of red Sharpie — Juliet.

STAY HUNGRY. STAY FOOLISH.

October 7, 2011 § 1 Comment

Steve your photograph popped into my Safari window today and our eyes locked.  I studied over-long the accompanying dates hanging there in the white space struggling to understand:

1955 “are you enclosed” – “within these years?” 2011

And as if waiting for you to confirm via ding!, or text, or voice, or music, or video, or film, my tears knew before I did, that somehow, I was a little more on my own than a moment before. It felt very personal although I did not know you.

But I did grow-up on this peninsula, in this valley, lived in the same city and have had my fair share of brushes with greatness with you (thank you for being the control group for my thesis research, thank you for being an inspirational competitor, thank you for being a client, thank you for the introductions) and I take you with me wherever I go and you make things safer, abundantly clear, simple to use, beautifully designed, and user-friendly in a world that sometimes is not.

I know you’ve grown larger and larger over the years: genius, inventor, mogul, icon, but Steve you accomplished what others have only dreamed of doing, you grew smaller. You grew personal to all of us. You became a modern-day anchor, an archetypal (and lovingly “foolish”) protector, a personal (St. Croix, black mock turtleneck wearing) star in whose light we work and play every day.

Before anyone else in the valley, you openly valued beauty, spoke for beauty, treasured beauty, and reinstated beauty to its rightful elevation despite peers railing against your superficial frivolity, because you understood beauty’s substance, organization and significance; its simplicity and its science. You thought differently and the status quo fell before you.

Sure you were tough, sure you were a competitor, but you chose to invent your success rather than employ mimicry and greed. You bravely chose self-direction over dogma. You embraced, instead of despaired over your different vision. You laughed at yourself.  You esteemed your inner voice and stuck by yourself when the world did not. And you challenged and empowered us to do the same because you knew on a very personal level that is why we are here. You tenaciously followed your heart and made that feel doable for the rest of us.

We trusted you. We championed you. We loved you.

Steve Jobs Day, Friday, October 14, 2011, organized by fans of Steve Jobs at Studiocom.

Walt Mossberg honors Steve Jobs.

Stephen Colbert honors Steve Jobs.

One more thing…

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”

“Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes… the ones who see things differently — they’re not fond of rules… You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change things… they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius.”

“Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose.”

“Click. Boom. Amazing!”

~ Steve Jobs

We will miss you.

  • The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues.
    ~William Shakespeare
    All’s Well That Ends Well
    Act IV, Scene III – 4.3.84
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