Strength Through Music

You turn around,
shaggy hair, brown,
deep voiced, you say,
"Hi," and I
say, "Hi." 
And we talk
Tarantino and Roth,
Rodriguez, we talk,
of posters on walls,
of talking too much,
of watching too little.
And here, 
I've made a friend.

You wake up. You wake up thinking this day will be like all the others. And then you hear a song. Then, you hear several songs. Then, you know today will not be like all the others because today you will be different. And then you're truly awake.

Catch my friend Malcolm Foster's segment, Essential Sounds, every Thursday: http://www.aceradio.co.uk/

Listen. Feel good. Make a friend.

Also, visit Malcolm's own blog at http://iammalkovich.tumblr.com/ for tracklists, movie reviews, information on his podcast and other interesting projects.  He's a versatile fellow.

(I'd also like to mention that the fellow in the picture up there is not Malcolm Foster, but a random guy you get when you google search "I Am Malkovich.")

The ODDyssey: An Introduction

You wake up hungry or not at all hungry. Your alarm crows next to your head, that electronic rooster of all hours. You sleep on the floor because your mattress sinks into the springs of your bunk. Your back aches and your eyes hurt, and for just a moment you forget where you are or why you're so cold. Lint from the rug clings to your face and hair, yesterday's makeup ties your eyelashes together. You're staring at the ceiling, and that's when you realize you aren't at home and that you haven't been for some time. That's when you know your at college.
Or maybe that's just me.
When I'm not hungover, when I am hungover... I can't tell the difference. Every morning I feel half drunk, half awake, half alive. I pick myself up off the floor slowly, bending my stiffened elbows and tightening my sore and still sleeping muscles. I'm standing now, but I'm still on the floor. My soul meets my body, and then I know my heart is beating. Then I can function; I am a machine.
I dress like I care, clothing my bones in fabrics; denim and cotton, feet of rubber. Hygiene isn't as important as the illusion of hygiene; assorted sprays and perfumes, deodorant, recycling eyeliner from the day before and the day before that.
My first week of college wasn't like this. My first week of college I was brimming with romantic ideas of taking the campus by storm, making sure everyone knew my name, that everyone recognized my trademark glasses.  Yes, I thought I was that important. I learned quickly that I wasn't. Not only was I not important or even significant; I was a Freshman. Nobody knew me, and no one cared to know me. 
And so now, three weeks later, my mornings are slow and my days are slower. Nights are shorter than I ever imagined. It's not all bad. There are parties; recklessness and high philosophies. There are social gatherings, intense speakers and performers, the random acquaintance. There are guys scanning me up and down, quick compliments made by the quickly passing stranger, my quickly returned compliment or thanks hanging in the air. There are people dancing in the streets, Whiskey Wednesdays, Thirsty Thursdays. There's more than the mornings.
But the mornings are what I remember.
Because every morning I wake up in a different world as a different person.
And who I was the day before is just recycled machinery.
My name is Ashley and this is my blog. It won't all be like this... In fact, you will find a variety of topics discussed here, ranging from comedic to dramatic, film and cinema to painting and sketching, feminism and politics to hipsters and vegetarianism, fashion and the rejection of fashion. You'll find book and film reviews, anecdotes, flashbacks, and advice.
This is more than my journey or your journey. This is The ODDyssey.
And we are all a part of it.