Wednesday, August 25, 2010

My relative. Cornelius O'Neil.

I'd like you to meet Cornelius O'Neil, he's from my Irish side.

This is a picture which a good friend of mine uncovered while image searching.  I don't know how he found the picture because it's hung on an oak mantle of a grandiose cabin deep in the northern forest of Wisconsin.

As you can tell, he was beautiful.  Women sang songs of warning about him and men sang songs in general.  He lived with a touring whistler band that swooned the hearts of hummingbirds (colonial talk for crowds of slaves who came up with soul songs by humming them while they worked the fields) using only puckered lips and tonal duality.

Sometimes I wonder who I would've been had I been around for that photo.  As you can tell, he dressed well in colonial layers with a fashion forward victorian esque edge.  

Sadly, Cornelius's reign was cut short by pneumonia. He survived, but it killed his lung capacity which short handed his career. 

Bet you didn't know I was that cool, or at least my blood is.

Final note on Cornelius, you may have heard his most famous song, it's the jingle at the end of the Old Spice spots.

Bon Iver in Paris

Bon Iver is a favorite of mine. If you know them, you will love this.  If you don't, be ready for an intimate folk sound that was born in the deep Northern woods of Wisconsin where Justin Vernon escaped to after a hard break up.

He did something beautiful with his pain and created music that anyone who's ever been through a rough patch can find solace in.

Especially this set. It was done in Paris while they were on a break from their European tour.  Thank you for posting this for me to steal.

Take Away Show #93 _ Bon Iver (full version) from vincent moon / temporary areas on Vimeo.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Their words taste like a plumber's hankerchief

It's hard to be a writer in advertising.  Duh.

I try to keep my subconscious loaded with quality content of Hemingway, Dostoyevsky, and Jersey Shore (kidding).  But when I see tags like "Treat your eyes to a feat of surprise" plastered across a bus for Cirque De Solei, I feel the creative feces return to rot the brain like Bon Jovi doing a reunion tour in Jersey.

Bitching about it won't do any good.  I'm done ranting and complaining, it's time to find inspiration which means I need to get after the creative scene out here in Chicago. 

I don't have a major cash flow to hit up every rock show across town, but I've heard whisperings of a decent creative scene in this city.  It's yet to be seen by yours truly.  I won't lose heart, and I'll start asking around a little more.  And when / if I find a few decent spots, I'll write them up here for the one person who still reads this after my fourth month hiatus.  I love you mom.