Every song brings back memories, like I remember where I wrote all these songs. 'Universal Heartbeat' was my apartment in New York City. 'My Sister' was at my apartment in Boston. I remember places and I remember what I was thinking when I wrote it.
Yeah, I was only in New York from the age of six months until five years old. But my very first memories are all of New York. I remember my first rainbow on a beach in New York. I remember jumping on a bed in New York.
I like to know that when I'm 90 years old, I'm going to be able to look at a song or poem I wrote and say, 'Wow! I remember I was so crazy about this person,' or 'I remember what that day felt like.'
I like to know that when I'm 90 years old, I'm going to be able to look at a song or poem I wrote and say, "Wow! I remember I was so crazy about this person," or "I remember what that day felt like."
I remember the first time I ever wrote down a song was when I was 6. I was at my friend Emma's house, and we wrote a song called 'Girls' Rules.'
I learned to play guitar on my lying back while I was bed-ridden. I only thought to record the songs because sometimes I would I couldn't remember what I had just done. Eventually I started singing, because I thought if I sang it that would help to remember even more. But I wasn't trying to sing. And then one day-this is really weird -I just wrote a song. It came out at a rapid rate and I recorded it and I listened back to it and was like "Wow, it's a tune."
I remember Geauga Lake. I remember Six Flags. I remember going to the mall. I hung out there. These big, grand places that served as pinnacles of the community were not only institutions or places of commerce. They were communal spaces where a lot of people went and shared good memories. These are very nostalgic places.
I remember my first standup act when I was seventeen; I did a really lame song about being flat chested. I was doing it in New York, and I remember Kevin Brennan, the guy I lost my virginity to, was like "That song doesn't make sense, you have tits."
We host Thanksgiving in my mother's apartment in New York. I don't know if you've seen many New York apartment kitchens, but they are not known for spaciousness.
What I like about music is the songs you can remember the lines of in a single second. The Beatles, The Rolling Stones... You can remember every line to their songs. But today, how often do you remember any of the lines to songs? I mean, I know that one of the Lily Allen's last albums is called It's Not Me, It's You. But I don't know how the songs go.
Oak, granite, Lilies by the road, Remember me? I remember you. Clouds brushing Clover hills, Remember me? Sister, child, Grown tall, Remember me? I remember you.
I've been acting since second grade, and I just remember when I first moved to New York and I was living in Washington Heights with three other actors in this tiny apartment and busting my butt to get to the subway, walking to, like, five auditions in a day.
I have a Baldwin in my L.A. apartment, a Steinway in my New York apartment, and a Kawai plexiglass grand piano in storage for shows. I still play for two or three hours every day.
One thing I loved about New Zealand was the indoor/outdoor lifestyle of the place. I remember going from Xboxing, jamming out on guitars and drum machines in my buddy's apartment, to a bike ride through the parks and up and down the streets all over the city, to the ocean, right into the water. I remember we were swimming outer ways and we got to a certain place where we wanted to see - or I wanted to see - how deep the water was.
I distinctly remember watching Annie when I was very little and thinking 'I don't like this kid.' In fact I think I remember thinking 'I don't like any of these kids.' That's all I remember.
The first time I went to New York, I went with my first boyfriend, Clark. His dad had just bought an apartment in New York, and my dad dropped us off, and we were there for a week on our own. I must have been 15 or 16. I remember I went to Harlem and bought a goose jacket. That was the hip, hot thing.
The heart of most spiritual practices is simply this: Remember who you are. Remember what you love. Remember what is sacred. Remember what is true. Remember that you will die and that this day is a gift. Remember how you wish to live.