Realizations, Part V: Tangled Mad Cliffsides (1.31.10)

In my early drafts of this essay, I was set on revealing my notions to dabble in writing, film, art, photography, design, and haiku, among other things. I also planned on explaining why I hadn’t covered any Death Cab for Cutie songs (which perplexed those closest to me, who knew me well enough to point out that I reference Ben Gibbard and Co. on a near-daily basis); why I felt my love for The Album hindered my songwriting; why producing album-like collections was so important to me; and how I might deal with the obvious copyright-infringement of my Covers Resolution but still get those covers to the people who want them, legally. I even considered writing about how relevant this whole five-part essay was to me anymore. (I decided it is still relevant, mostly.) I also had promised to “reveal” a number of projects I had toyed with attempting, including my own interpretation of Jack Kerouac’s Big Sur (like Gibbard and Jay Farrar did), and a number of music videos or video-blogs showcasing my covers, as well as a few simple piano covers likely to become “lost amongst all the other webcam-wielding teenagers doing just that.”

I chose not to cover each and every facet of my ruminations and wonderings, mostly out of my own disinterest, lack of time, and newfound inspiration for other topics and goals. So, as I have always intended, in this fifth part of Realizations, I am now pleased to present a few new endeavors of mine.

For starters, a new blog has been started, which I’ve named “Tangled Mad Cliffsides.” Like “Misty Aeons,” the name is originally a phrase found in Kerouac’s Big Sur. There are a few reasons why I’ve begun Tangled Mad Cliffsides. As you’ll see, the top of the page is home to six pages: Misty Aeons, These Cages, Haiku, Rainbow Explosions (another Kerouac-named project), and Tangled Mad Cliffsides. For now, only a one-sentence description and a related photo reside within each page, but with time each will have it’s own extensive description, as well as links to any related post. I want to share these different creative outlets of mine with people, and I figure a blog is the most culminating way to do so. I do hope you’ll take a look, and make repeat visits in the future (when you can).

The second announcement is that Facebook now holds another home for Misty Aeons. Really, that’s all that needs to be said of that. “Become a fan” if you’re into that kind of thing.

The last (and most important) report of mine is the release of the culmination of my four covers done for 2009: The Covers Resolution. Exactly one year ago, to the day, I released the first cover for my then-recently-resolved project; it had a strong start, but was soon tripped by the complex vines of everyday life. In the end, only four songs were started, and only four were finish. And now that it is 2010, I’ve decided to close the door on the resolution, at least in the formal sense. With it no longer being 2009, I have little right to continue to make covers in the name of the resolution; however, I do plan (as I’ve said) to cover the other songs I had interest in exploring. The album is free. As in, no money on your behalf.

In The Coves Resolution, I have also included instrumental tracks, because if it were me, I’d love to hear what the background music is like on its own. Imogen Heap did it with Ellipse, and so will I. Also attached is a PDF with a link to view and download the digital booklet that I designed myself. It’s 22 pages of Oregon Coast photography and Century Gothic typography, with lyrics and excerpts from the four essays I wrote for each cover upon its original release. (One thing I’d like to note about the whole download: in the interest of continued growth and networking, I have required an e-mail address with every download. Ask the people who have already donated their e-mail for Under This Endless Curtain—not a single letter has appeared in their electronic inboxes in the three months since they submitted their address for free music. This is likely to remain nearly the same, especially since I won’t have any big news for at least a month. Even then I might forget or forgo an e-mail announcement. So don’t be afraid to submit your address; if you truly take issue with it, please Twitter or Facebook or MySpace message me, or contact me however you want to (write me a letter!), and I’ll set you up with your own, personal, e-mail-less download.)

So this concludes my Realizations essay (even though at this point it really hasn’t been much more than a gramophone for news). I hope that if you’ve followed along here for the last few months, it’s been enjoyable, or at least insightful. If you haven’t been following, your welcome to read the past four parts, at either the new Tangled Mad Cliffsides blog or the old (and likely obsolete) MySpace blog, or even the minimalistic Tumblr blog (which is supplemented by my WordPress and Twitter posts). And so, finally finished, I’ll leave you with what I found sums up my creative endeavors, thanks to New Yorker cartoonist Emily Flake:

With love,

Caleb

Digital Booklet

MySpace • Twitter • Tangled Mad Cliffsides • Tumblr • Facebook

Realizations, Part IV: Final Thoughts & “The Book of Love” (1.22.10)

Final Thoughts

Well. Another exercise in the passing of time has been drafted in place of the fourth part of my Realizations essay, which I find unsurprising. Not that I quite expected it to take nearly two full months before having an opportunity to write again, and another to finally finish. Nevertheless, reviewing how the transition from autumn to winter has gone, I can’t help but notice how little time could be devoted to anything besides my schooling. In short, the semester has concluded and I am grateful for that fact. (I could go into how my classes went, what I’ve done, etc., but I am not interested in doing that analysis at this time. Maybe later.)

To pick up where I left off in Part III, as well as the unsuccessful attempts at Part IV (of which I believe there are about three written efforts), I guess I promised that I would “reveal” a number of projects that were in store for Misty Aeons. Such a promise is here recognized as “broken,” but I made up for it, as you’ll shortly read. That being said, I ought to copy-and-paste some thoughts that I still find relevant from the previous drafts of this fourth part; from this point on until noted otherwise, writing from the past two months will commence. (Brackets will replace, point out, or note important edits in this early conglomeration of words.)

“When I was beginning to seriously consider applying to Grinnell College, I decided to meet with the school’s Northwest representative in the hopes that they as a school would have a more accurate idea of what kind of student I was (as the interview would be put on file for the application process), as well as so that I could understand more about what kind of school Grinnell was. There was this one thing that the interviewer said that has stuck with me ever since that meeting: he recalled how many first-year students, around the month of October, have this ‘What the hell am I doing here?’ moment, once the self-confidence that occurs with all the new euphoric experiences associated with college loosens with the leaves, and begins to dry up and break apart under the growing gnawing of self-doubt. In a way, I have been waiting for this moment to occur here for a good twenty-or-so days [a now out-dated count], and it has, to some extent, been a valid prediction, though I wouldn’t claim it to be as concrete a moment as indicated. [In actuality, now that more time has passed to review, this “moment,” has occurred a number of times in November and December, especially when difficulties in my classes became more apparent. Needless to say, these moments have been neither comforting nor welcome.]

“Pair such insecurities with my unending analyzation of Misty Aeons, and one has quite a lot on his cerebral plate. As I have mentioned before, this whole essay, Realizations, is meant to help myself at least sort out my thoughts, doubts, and aspirations, and help anyone else who cares to understand why I am or act or think the way I do, at least in regards to being an artist. The benefits of writing-as-therapy are not unrealized by others (read: journals by people who write in them), but I certainly must give credit to two individuals for providing both a framework, if you will, and a style of voice, for this piece of writing. Those individuals are Benjamin Gibbard and Sufjan Stevens, respectively. Gibbard wrote an article for Paste Magazine just after Narrow Stairs was released, and the topics he chose and how he organized his examinations really inspired the way I’ve produced this essay myself. Stevens has an amazing sense of writing voice, and has no doubt been a huge inspiration in what words I’ve chosen and how I have attempted to possess my own ‘voice.’ (Please read the Paste article by Gibbard, titled ‘The Meaning of Life,’ as well as just about anything by Stevens you can find. Also, listen to their music: it’s some of the best out there.)

“That being said, I will now continue to explore Misty Aeons, only now, instead of focusing on the past and present (now past, etc.), I would like to consider the future of my project, and resume describing some new ideas and resolutions. [This concludes the majority of my early drafts.]”

An issue I touched on in my explorations was that of songwriting, and my struggles with the crafting of songs in any medium. I finally came up with a very concrete analogy to describe what has kept me (and continues to keep me) from writing original material even after several years of working on music (both pre-Misty Aeons and, more importantly, These Cages). I have essentially diagnosed myself (with a tongue-and-cheek manner) with “musical schizophrenia.” If such an psychological illness were to be found in the DSM-IV, it might mention that schizophrenics rarely get anything done; likewise, musical schizophrenia renders the victim nearly paralyzed in their attempts at creating music. The main point is that I am unable to make music in part because I am unable to choose a direction, to pick a genre, to commit to a style. In effect, I simply flail around dabbling at various sounds, and end up getting nowhere. Also, I am highly influenced by a broad range of music, which is essentially the cause of this disease.

With all of my influences (in the form of dozens of records), I am simply unable to direct myself anywhere, which yields little success and completion over anything. A contributing factor to failing to complete anything is my perfectionism (which I hope is at least exemplified in each of my recordings).

But recently I came to realize a new Plan of Attack—not so much a solution, but rather (to continue with the previous analogy) a twist on the vain treatment meant to remedy my symptoms: RPM 2010. That is, Record Production Month, Twenty-Ten. Related somewhat to National Novel Writing Month (“thirty days and nights of literary abandon!”) in November, RPM occurs in February, and entails the “record[ing of] an album in 28 days, just because you can.” My goal with participating in RPM 2010 is to just Let Things Happen. (I’m apparently into capitalizing words for Emphasis as I write this.) I just plan on seeing what songs end up working, what music I end up messing with/up; whatever happens, happens. Nothing forced, nothing left unconsidered. It won’t matter to me who I sound like, as long as I sound like Misty Aeons. In the 28 days of February I will hope to have either 35 minutes- or ten tracks-worth of sound, noise, or—with luck—music. And, based on the music I’ve been listening to for the past month, I predict that the album will sound somewhere between Vampire Weekend and Death Cab for Cutie, with a lot of Frou Frou and Imogen Heap thrown in for good measure. (I order you to get Ellipse by Ms. Heap immediately!)

[I ought to add that since I’ve written this previous portion, I’ve had some minor success and some concrete strategies mapped out, which will make all the difference both for my successfulness and optimism for RPM 2010. Also, Ellipse is proving immensely inspirational. Contra is too.]

May: The Book of Love (1.22.10)

So with all of that said, I’d like to present to you the cover that I’ve been working on since late-spring of 2009. This cover was inspired in May (as you’ll soon see why), slowly but surely created over the summer, and halted with fall and college, waiting for this winter break of mine to be uncovered and completed, finally. As I hope is at least somewhat clear, this cover is the most extensive project I have ever attempted, and it tested me in many ways, from orchestral arranging and individual instrument parts (by ear), to heavy MIDI programming, to aux- and bus-channelling, to a wide-ranging vocal melody that I still am not sure I’ve mastered. Nevertheless, I can once and for all proudly present to you my cover of a Peter Gabriel’s cover of “The Book of Love,” by The Magnetic Fields. A fact that I only recently knew about is the release of Gabriel’s album of covers, called Scratch My Back, which is a collection of drum- and guitar-less (and ultimately orchestral) covers of artists including Bon Iver and Paul Simon, as well as The Magnetic Fields, whose song “The Book of Love” was chosen by Gabriel. (Go look at the album’s art: it’s so perfect. I want the LP, just for that.)

I, however, first heard this cover during the final montage of the series finale of one of my favorite television shows, “Scrubs”: as J.D. watched a possible fantasy involving his own future play out on a banner hanging in front of him after his last day of work at Sacred Heart Hospital, this cover by Gabriel played to accompany the footage of J.D.’s marriage to Elliot, and the birth of their son (who would later marry the daughter of his best friend, Turk), among other things. The montage was one of the most beautiful TV moments I’ve ever experienced, and because of it’s occurrence in May, I immediately began work on the song as the corresponding cover, even though I had yet to even start my April cover (which, you may recall, was off by a month and due at the end of May as well); this, I believe, is a testament to the impact this song had on me, both musically and personally.

Even with my determination and vast interest, a combination of limited time (déjà vu) and the sheer amount of work that was necessary to fulfill my vision for the cover kept the creation of the project to a slow crawl, but now that it’s finally complete, I couldn’t be more thrilled to release it, even if it’s the last cover I’ll be doing in the name of my resolution for 2009. I still have a song picked out for each month, based on some meaningful moment or time that year or in years past (e.g. Bright Eyes for July, Imogen Heap for August, Vampire Weekend for September, etc.) but since it is no longer ’09 I can’t honestly claim that any future covers will be completely related to that resolution. I have made my peace with such a scenario, but expect to still get around to cover each and every one of those songs, eventually. Even if it takes me until 2019.

As for “The Book of Love” (with harmonies provided by Bashly, who you should also go listen to) I do hope that the dozens of hours (literally) that I spent on this song show, at least for one listen; I wouldn’t be surprised if after a few repeats one is able to pick out the many points where the strings sound artificial (which they are), or where my voice falters (which it does). I can certainly hear them myself, but I’m hoping that that first listen will allow for a little grace for each future listen. I spent half a year working on it; this cover has seen me leave home for the first time for college, has seen me lose my dog to cancer, has seen me have some of the best times of my life and some of the most difficult. Parts of myself have grown a lot since I started this cover, and other parts have remained the same. I don’t expect anyone else to hear or feel those meanings in “The Book of Love,” but if they did, I’d certainly be happy about it. That’s just what’s so beautiful about music. And it’s also why I plan on continuing to create music.

Even if I have to write essays to figure out how.

Lyrics:
The book of love is long and boring.
No one can lift the damn thing.
It’s full of charts and facts and figures, and instructions for dancing.
But I, I love it when you read to me.
And you, you can read me anything.

The book of love has music in it.
In fact, that’s where music comes from. Some of it’s just transcendental, some of it’s just really dumb.
But I, I love it when you sing to me, and you, you can sing me anything.

The book of love is long and boring and written very long ago.
It’s full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes.
And things we’re all too young to know.
But I, I love it when you give me things.
And you, you ought to give me wedding rings.

And I, I love it when you give me things. And you, you ought to give me wedding rings.

(“The Book of Love” / written by The Magnetic Fields / covered by Peter Gabriel / performed by Misty Aeons / recorded in a house on Montara Dr.  in Bend, May of 2009 through January of 2010 / thank you Ashly for your harmonies / posted 1.22.2010)

Realizations, Part III: Regarding Kerouac & Resolutions (10.21.09)

This entry comes on the 40th anniversary of Jack Kerouac’s death, October 21st, 1969 (he was 47), which is fitting for some of the material that I will cover with Part III. Unlike the last time I celebrated Kerouac (on March 12th, when he would have been 87 years old), I do not have any spontaneous poetry recorded and posted for anyone, but I will eventually reveal a number of topics pertaining to Kerouac, among other things. (I should note that this Realizations essay is being written quite rapidly, and follows a stream-of-consciousness style of writing, much like Kerouac, albeit a somewhat tidier style; in this way, little is edited at first, and so far I have been more inclined to just post my writings and edit as I read things online, rather than wait. What this means is that a re-read of each piece might prove smoother and more accurate, if one is able, willing, or cares to.)

First off, I would like to examine what has been, for the most part, the stem of Misty Aeons since I started the project back in late December, on my half-birthday: my covers resolution. As many of you are aware, I resolved on the eve of 2009 to record one cover (read: an interpretation of another musician’s song) per month, equating twelve songs by the end of the year, whereupon I would master them all together and release an album with all the songs, as well as post each cover at the end of each month, accompanied with a minor essay describing an aspect or story related to the song. The inspiration? To quote myself from last winter, this resolution “was inspired by the same thing that Jimmy Tamborello (of Dntel, James Figurine, and The Postal Service) did this last year.” But my drive, my purpose, in completing such a project went farther than just simply trying to copy Dntel. I knew that forcing myself to work on music each month—learning, practicing, interpreting, arranging, recording, and, finally, mixing—would benefit me in many ways: I would (likely) strengthen my understanding of The Song, learn and practice and improve my recording and mixing skills (so my recordings would sound decent, with the goal being professional-sounding), and, above all, determine what kinds of music I was interested in writing myself. This final purpose was solidified when I amended my resolution and stated that each month would gradually shift from an all-acoustic cover in January to half-acoustic and half-electronic in April to an all-electronic cover in June, and then incrementally back to all-acoustic by December. At the time, I had very little clue as to what kind of music I wanted to write, or who I wanted to be most-inspired by, musically and lyrically.

I started off relatively strong, with a nice little piano-and-vocals cover of Christopher Walla’s “You Went Away.” The process of recording piano and vocals, as well as mixing them together, proved immensely interesting and enjoyable, as well as educational. I developed a little more insight into using Logic Studio, and mic placement, and all the other little variables that are encompassed by recording music. And then February rolled around, and the troubles started. A full schedule at school as well as an unexpected trip for a funeral on the East Coast prevented me from recording a cover that month, so I waited for March to come to start and finish two covers, and get back on track. Instead, the only ounce of time I had to work on music was during my week off for spring break, and I was able to finish only the cover for February (“These Few Presidents” by WHY?), though it was one of the largest projects I had ever engaged in, so it’s understandable that it took a full week to complete. Needless to say, my cover for March (“Texas” by PlayRadioPlay!) was pushed until April, and I finished it the last day before May. It was at this point that, in hindsight, my resolution began to fall apart around me; it was also at this point that people began listening, and the pressure was not only self-induced but also, to some extent, by other people (which was a good thing). (Sometime during the spring I did also release the first original song by Misty Aeons, “Under this Endless Curtain,” but I would rather not discuss that at this time.) I remained determined to complete my resolution and not give up, however, and began to see the summer as this “golden timeframe” where I could work on and finish all of my late covers, and get back on track for the remainder of the year. Alas, this vision of infinitely-free time was not only wrong, but ridiculous. As it turns out (made apparent by the lack of new songs available anywhere), I made headway here and there, but finished nothing, and ended up even farther behind than I was when I graduated in June. All I had at the end of August was a few apologies, a near-finished cover for May, and an overwhelming sense of defeat. I knew that if I wasn’t completely caught up by the time I left for college, I would never make it by January 1st, 2010. The final nail in the coffin occurred on August 19th, and I have been pondering what that means to me ever since.

For one, I feel like I failed. There really is absolutely no way I will be able to finish seven unfinished and late covers, never mind any remaining covers. The fact that I only even truly finished three covers seems so contrary to what I set out to do. It’s like I did not even get anything out of my unfinished resolution.

However, I know that there were some benefits. I am fairly fluent with Logic and recording in general, and, while there is still growth to occur, I am mostly proud of the quality of my recordings; they need improvement, but they don’t sound horrible either. I would compare using Logic to staying practiced with an instrument or keeping a muscle toned—use it or lose it, but I know that only because I spent so many hours working my Logic muscle. And I certainly have paid more attention to what goes into a song start to finish, including all the extra work involved in putting music online, managing websites and appearance, and online relationships with you, my friends, family, and fans.

Even still, I know not what genre I am inclined to involve myself in, and I am far from claiming that writing songs is something I consider myself good at, much less even capable of doing. I suppose that I’m not the first person to say such things, but I certainly recognize that my resolution was (if successful) supposed to at least help me out in that way; at the very least, I am able to say that not finishing my covers project did not help me grow musically in that regard.

Which brings me to my next major point: have I jumped the gun completely in terms of creating and maintaining this music project of mine? Was it premature to design and flesh out Misty Aeons before I had a clear sense of, well, anything? This ongoing debate between my synapses is likely the most difficult one going on for me, and it is only exacerbated when new ideas that I could potentially attempt lodge themselves in my brain and wash my body with excited endorphins. On one hand, I don’t think I’d be anywhere near where I am as a musician (if I’m willing to call myself one) if I hadn’t given a name to a notion and at least attempted to fit music into my busy life. On the other, how can I continue to warrant the existence of Misty Aeons if I fail to bring any new content in over six months, with hardly a real reason to justify such an absence of material besides being “too preoccupied” or “stressed out” or “apathetic”? And how can I (or anyone) balance expensive schooling, music, relationships, and other personal enjoyments in a way that works? Again, I’m hardly the first person to deal with such a balance (see: everyone else), but it is still a challenge nonetheless.

Does the continuation of original ideas or thoughts, even when not acted upon, justify the validity of a project like Misty Aeons? I certainly have been accompanied by new ideas for resolutions throughout the year, but have not attempted any of them publicly or formally. In fact, this very fall break I had intentions to do a number of things for my project, and yet I end up using that time to… write about how I don’t have enough time to make music? As you can see, this is all confusing and difficult to keep organized and concrete, but I know that the very process of writing things down helps immensely.

As far as telling you some of these ideas, it breaks a certain barrier between me and my listeners: if I declare an idea of mine, does it make me obligated to complete it? I obviously haven’t show myself to be completely reliable in that sense. But does the suppressing of ideas also continue the lack of implementing them? Rather, by not announcing that I might do this or I could do that, do I in turn sentence myself to never “getting around to it”? Possibly, but, as in the case with my resolution, even a strong (and at once-successful) effort proved vain in the greatest respect.

I suppose then, that I might as well keep trying things. I will describe a number of ideas that I’ve had, in the hopes I will at least attempt them, but, in the case that I do not or cannot, I won’t feel as much regret in not doing them. I don’t think that this is a way of excusing myself from inaction, but that I’m still dedicated to Misty Aeons and my listeners, even if I can’t always fulfill my desires for each. The outcome of my original covers resolution is still unknown. I haven’t given up completely on the concept of completing twelve covers, but the possibility of making the New Year’s Eve deadline is, like I said, impossible. (Well, unless I completely let go of school and other engagements… which is not likely.)

As the word count for this third part is rapidly approaching too high for comfort (for a single part, at least), I will save the majority of my idea-descriptions for the fourth part in this essay. But, like I said earlier, I had several Kerouac-related ideas and interests, and I’ll share them here and now. The first, which will be explained in greater depth in Part IV of Realizations, is the rapidly growing number of haiku that I have written in the last year. Jack Kerouac wrote lots of haiku (amongst other things), and he is definitely a huge influence on my style and focus when I compose haiku. In fact, I have been sharing these haiku on the Internet since the conclusion of last July, but that is where I’ll stop for now. Just a teaser, until the next part.

The other Kerouacian idea is not exactly original either, but I have twisted it to fit into the sphere of Misty Aeons. As some of you may already know, Benjamin Gibbard (of Death Cab for Cutie, The Postal Service, and ¡All-Time Quarterback!) and Jay Farrar (of Son Volt) wrote and recorded an entire collaborative album for the new Kerouac documentary One Fast Move Or I’m Gone: Kerouac’s Big Sur, both of which were released yesterday. The album looks to be really interesting, as does the film, but what really perked my interest is that all the lyrics were created from the words found in Big Sur, the novel by Jack Kerouac. Farrar took phrases and sentences from the book to make lyrics, applying them to original chord progressions and melodies. As you might have guessed by now, my idea was to do a similar (shorter) version of my own Big Sur set of songs. The way I would intentionally personalize my songs would be to focus on the same four pieces of artwork that I did this last winter for my studio art class, and make a little EP out of the songs. (Those pieces can be found in a number of places: look around.)

Maybe this kind of project is more plausible to be worked on while going to Grinnell College. Maybe it is not. This was my main goal to accomplish during this fall break, but instead I’m writing about not being able to finish. (Ironic? Possibly.) Either way, the act of throwing it out there to the world might have a difference. Do you think it will? I asked a lot of questions through out this third part, and I honestly am still searching for the answers. If you have any thoughts, please don’t hesitate to offer them. In any case, I’ll leave you with the beautiful words of the great Jack Kerouac: this excerpt from Big Sur is where I, after much contemplation, finally found the name of my music project:

“There are immeasurable star misty aeons of universes more numerous than the sands in all the galaxies, multiplied by a billion lightyears of multiplication, in fact if i were to go on you’d be scared and couldn’t comprehend and you’d despair so much you’d drop dead,” that’s what he just about said in one of those sutras—macrocosms and microcosms and chillicosms and microbes and finally you get all these marvelous books a man ain’t even got time to read em all … (expressing exactly the way I feel, of course).

Realizations, Part II: Concerning Grinnell College (10.20.09)

To continue with my story, that first night in Iowa was spent at my uncle’s house in Des Moines, not far from the airport. We spent the next morning there as well, and I got to meander about his beautiful property and pretend to be a photographer. In the afternoon, my mother and I traveled east to Iowa City to visit my grandmother and some other aunts and uncles (all of home are related to my father, who was born and raised with his eight siblings in Iowa City). We also picked up things that I needed for my dorm, and, finally, we drove back west an hour to the modest town of Grinnell on Friday night. We had dinner with my roommate and another new friend, and came back to the hotel where we were staying the night before moving in Saturday morning.

As far as explaining things goes, I might as well just summarize and tell you that from Saturday until the next Wednesday I participated in the New Student Orientation program, got my room situated, met new people, made new friends, explored the campus of Grinnell College, ate in the dining hall, stayed up late, met with my current advisor (who is the professor of my first-year class, referred to as one’s Tutorial; mine is “Culture Jamming” and I’ll explain that later), figured out a schedule for first semester, and generally just tried to not go crazy with all the fast-paced changes occurring around me.

The name of my dormitory is Hannibal-Kershaw, and it is a substance-free dorm (one of three at Grinnell). It is located on the east side of campus along with three other dormitories, and so they are collectively (and aptly) designated as East Campus. My third-floor room (2340) looks out at a nearby neighborhood, along East Street. (They were really creative with these compass-inspired names.) So, on Thursday the 27th, my first classes began. They are, in no particular order, Culture Jamming, Introduction to Sociology, Musicianship (Introduction to Music, essentially), and Introduction to French I. Culture Jamming—which is, so far, watching and analyzing and discussing documentaries and books that expose all the really unfortunate circumstances in our world, implementing ways to fight the corporate behemoth of advertising, and learning how to write college papers (the main reason behind Tutorial classes)—is by far my favorite class. Sociology comes in as a close second, and Music and French are both average in terms of how enjoyable they are (you know how it is).

Every morning, I walk down the stairs of Kershaw and out the lounge entrance (where the piano resides) and head out towards the JRC, which is the where the dining facilities are held. I have breakfast, chat with friends, and go to class at eight or eight-thirty, depending on the day. Monday and Wednesday afternoons are busy with classes, and Monday, Thursday, and Sunday nights are spent working at the Marketplace (dining hall). Tuesday nights, as many of you know, are spent in the radio station working the sound waves for my show “Rainbow Explosions,” which I would encourage you to listen to when you can (see: Tuesday nights, eight to ten central time, six to eight pacific; visit my Twitter for links to listen online). So, basically, this is my routine. I hang out with people here and there, and run on Sunday mornings, try to fit in piano (rarely works out), and, above all, work on homework. The rigor of Grinnell College is quite incredible, and its weight suppresses most notions to go out and do much beyond recuperate with naps.

The turning of the seasons has been quite apparent as the sun is keeping itself hidden for longer nights, the leaves are dropping steadily in red and brown clusters, and the rain falls with the dropping mercury. (Foggy mornings here are so reminiscent of the Oregon Coast, it’s scary.) The summer seemed to end abruptly with rain on the first day of school, but fought to hold on until about the end of September. October, then, has been a cooler but pleasant month, and accompanied schoolwork quite nicely.

Which brings me to fall break: because this week is fall break, I’m finally capable of updating everyone. Obviously I am nowhere near able to tell you everything about Iowa, so I’ll leave it up to you to ask about these unmentioned items of interest. Like I said in Part I, I will be continuing to explore a number of different-yet-intertwined topics over the next few days, and this second part was meant to fill anyone who did not know already what life at Grinnell College is like. In Part III (and what may be Part IV) I will begin my formal examination into Misty Aeons. Until then, here are a number of photos that I’ve taken (and edited) to visually document my two month stay here.

I. Iowa (Pond, Driving, Soybean field, On the road, Parking lot at sunset, Clouds)

II. Kershaw (Lounge, Piano, Loggia looking north, Loggia looking south, Foggy morning, Third floor)

III. Campus (North Campus, East Campus, Autumn)

IV. 2340 (Dawn street lamps, Summer tree, Rainy afternoon, Midnight passerby, Sunrise, Autumn tree)

Realizations, Part I: Regarding August 19th (10.19.09)

Exactly two months ago to the day,  I woke up early in the morning. I gathered my belongings, loaded up the car, bid my beloved dog farewell (knowing that it would be our last moment together as a result of his illness), and drove to the airport with my family in order to board the plane that would take me halfway across the country, from Oregon to Iowa. The sun’s notion to rise had not yet been realized during the drive, but I was personally fine with this fact, as the anxious nerves inhabiting my head that morning translated themselves as quiet tears. The darkness thankfully shrouded their presence, though my audible whimpers were likely not so hidden.

By the time of our arrival at the airport, a faint glow was beginning to illuminate the sky, but our study of that gradual process was quickly terminated as we entered the building to receive our tickets, send my bags through security (where three of my four bags were personally searched), and board our plane. (A pre-recorded announcement over the intercom alerted us to the terrorist level of the day, which was orange, and still irrelevant.) My mother was accompanying me on this airborne-transition into the cornfields and soybean patches of the Midwest in late summer, and after a teary goodbye to my brother and father, we went through the gate, out through the open runway, and into the now brightly-lit plane. The reddish sun itself was crawling out from behind the eastern horizon.

The flights that consumed the rest of that day granted plenty of time to simply thinking, which was tainted by a multitude of mixed emotions: everything from happiness, despair, hope, fear, anxiety, apathy, curiosity, nostalgia, and numbness were present. (I believe that a great majority of my thoughts were accompanied by Vampire Weekend’s self-titled album, if one cared to know such matters.) Amongst the musings about college and how quickly it was approaching was some considerable introspection and contemplation regarding my music project known as Misty Aeons. These reflections continued until we finally touched down in Des Moines, Iowa, greeted by evening, just as the sun decided that it had given our side of the planet enough warmth and nourishment. My first night in Iowa was about to begin.

Over the next few days, during this wonderful (much-needed) fall break in October, I will attempt to present a number of writings that compile an extensive examination into Misty Aeons. The thoughts that I want to present and explore and dissect and just generally try to understand reach from as far back as late June, when I last updated anyone in writing. Realizations is also a written exploration, and the parts that will complete it will form what I hope to be a thorough work. It is my desire to gain some understanding into what has occurred since arriving in Iowa, and the current and future condition of Misty Aeons. I expect that parts of myself will be revealed in the process. (I will likely also introduce a number of other artistic endeavors of mine that have been patiently waiting for display.)

August 19th, that odd day when my floating transference of self occurred, ended as the sun fell behind the western horizon and the crickets started their chilly symphony that warm summer evening. In the same way, this first entry is near its close, but it will be continued tomorrow. Until then, goodnight.

With love, Caleb

(I leave you with a fantastic photo by Hernan Corera.)