Seattle Song Quotes

The boy will grow older, and over time there will be other songs – not many – ten or maybe twenty in a lifespan, that stand apart from the rest of the music he will discover. He will realise as he grows older still, and crosses the Canadian border and drives down into Seattle, that not only are these songs holy or sacred, they are hiding songs – what the Aztec Indians call carrion songs – that deal exclusively in darkness, obfuscation, concealment and secrecy. He will realize that, for him, the purpose of these songs has been to shut off the sun, to draw a long shadow down and protect him from the corrosive glare of the world.

The boy will grow older, and over time there will be other songs – not many – ten or maybe twenty in a lifespan, that stand apar from the rest of the music he will discover. He will realise as he grows older still, and crosses the Canadian border and drives down into Seattle, that not only are these songs holy or sacred, they are hiding songs – what the Aztec Indians call carrion songs – that deal exclusively in darkness, obfuscation, concealment and secrecy. He will realize that, for him, the purpose of these songs has been to shut off the sun, to draw a long shadow down and protect him from the corrosive glare of the world.

You have millions of fans. Everyone around the world loves your songs. How can that not be enough?" "Because music can't tell me when I'm being a self-obsessed jerk. Music can't light up my day with nothing more than a smile. Music can't love me back. And--" He paused to gently caress her cheek. "--music will never be you

MARK ARM : Even if I did talk to [Layne Staley], I don’t know what I would have said. Seeing him so far down the line on this trajectory that he had set for himself made me queasy. It seemed to me like once he discovered heroin, he decided he was going to fully embrace it. Based on the songs on Dirt, he just jumped in. There was no turning back. It was unfortunate and pathetic. That was the myth he made for himself, and he was living it out.

Once upon a time, he'd believed that his music, his guitar, and his songs were everything he needed. But tonight, as his tour bus roared down yet another highway to yet another stadium, Ford finally realized that his songs and audiences could never even come close to filling the hole inside of him. Only one thing - only one person - had ever been able to do that. Only Mia.

Yes, I hate blown glass art and I happen to live in the blown glass art capital of the world, Seattle, Washington. Being a part of the Seattle artistic community, I often get invited to galleries that are displaying the latest glass sculptures by some amazing new/old/mid-career glass blower. I never go. Abstract art leaves me feeling stupid and bored. Perhaps it’s because I grew up inside a tribal culture, on a reservation where every song and dance had specific ownership, specific meaning, and specific historical context. Moreover, every work of art had use—art as tool: art to heal; art to honor, art to grieve. I think of the Spanish word carnal, defined as, ‘Of the appetites and passions of the body.’ And I think of Gertrude Stein’s line, ‘Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose.’ When asked what that line meant, Stein said, ‘The poet could use the name of the thing and the thing was really there.’ So when I say drum, the drum is really being pounded in this poem; when I say fancydancer, the fancydancer is really spinning inside this poem; when I say Indian singer, that singer is really wailing inside this poem. But when it comes to abstract art—when it comes to studying an organically shaped giant piece of multi-colored glass—I end up thinking, ‘That looks like my kidney. Anybody’s kidney, really. And frankly, there can be no kidney-shaped art more beautiful—more useful and closer to our Creator—than the kidney itself. And beyond that, this glass isn’t funny. There’s no wit here. An organic shape is not inherently artistic. It doesn’t change my mind about the world. It only exists to be admired. And, frankly, if I wanted to only be in admiration of an organic form, I’m going to watch beach volleyball. I’m always going to prefer the curve of a woman’s hip or a man’s shoulder to a piece of glass that has some curves.

During those first rehearsals, the five of us started working up a new song together based on some lyrics I had brought with me in a notebook from Seattle. The song became “Paradise City,” and it started to gel in those few days before our Troubadour show and the trip up to Seattle.

The opening notes to the Twilight Zone intro song filled his office, his phone lighting up in his hand. “Hey, Darce. How’s Vancouver?” “You’re on speaker,” she answered, her voice ever so slightly muffled. “And it’s nice. Like Seattle, but even cleaner.” Of course that was what Darcy cared about.

Lisa Fithian: The direct action element always brings the energy, attracts young people, but it is also the primary way in which we're building culture. Because all of these movements have to have culture the songs, the music, the visuals. Culture's life. And we're dealing with a culture of death in the U.S. We need to have an alternative. So, we were embodying a culture of life. [As quoted by DW Gibson.]

When I'm talking about disabled writing and the struggles to create spaces for disabled literature—in talks, to other crip writers, to whoever—I tell the story a lot about the fight I got into with an editor in the last weeks before Care Work was going to the printer, where I insisted that the BISAC codes (the codes on the back of the books that tell booksellers what section to place them in) on the back read Disability Studies / Disability Justice / Queer Studies when she wanted them to read Social Studies / Health / Queer Studies. The editor's response was dismissive: "Well, we do have to go with the official BISAC codes," (note: there is one for Disability Studies, and has been for decades), "and I've never seen a disabled section in a bookstore—have you? Of course I had. Modern Times Books, where I was the events coordinator (and cashier) from 2009 to 2011 had one and was known for it. Third Place Books, Left Bank Books, and Elliot Bay Books—my three favorite bookstores in my current city of Seattle—all have robust disability sections and Queer Disability special displays. Anjula Gogia, who ran the Toronto Women's Bookstore for decades, confirmed that they'd had a disability section since the 1980s and it was always one of their best-selling sections. I fought back, pulled the white crip guy (friend) card, and was like, ELI CLARE HAS DISABILITY STUDIES / ACTIVISM ON THE BACK OF BRILLIANT IMPERFECTION. IF HE CAN DO IT, SO CAN I. I DO NOT WANT MY BOOK NEXT TO THE GOUT CURES. We compromised on "disability studies / queer studies. Four years later, Poets.org would ask me to curate a disability justice poets folio for their 2022 theme of "Poetry and Disability Justice." It was a wonderful task, and I ran into the reality that Poets.org, like most poetry databases, didn't have "disability" or "disabled poets" or "Deaf poets" as keywords. As with most poetry databases, the closest you get is "illness" or "the body." Something as simple as having "disability," "disabled poets," and "Deaf poets" as keywords or search terms allows us to find each other, to come together, for disabled and Deaf people searching for words to illuminate our experiences and create a community to find them.