I'm Alex Nordenson. I'm from Minneapolis (a fantastic city, and no, it's not in the corn fields), I went to college in Boston, spent a semester in Cape Town, South Africa, and am now a resident of New York City. I studied English, but I don't want to be a professor (or unemployed). Crazy huh? I started this blog for a few reasons, but mainly because...

I enjoy sharing things with people. In particular, I enjoy sharing:

Exciting thoughts.
Music.
Enthusiasm.

On this blog, undoubtedly among other undetermined initiatives, I will be sharing these things. You don't necessarily have to grab and take in what I'm sharing, but I'll be leaving it out there for the taking nonetheless. I hope what I share will provide thought and joy to some, but most of all, I hope sharing it will aid me in my endless, menacing struggle with all the stuff there is in this world to think about.

Also, because most of my friends and all of my family don't reside in New York, I'd like to keep them at least partially in the loop. You know.

This song (and its video) creeps me out…but I like it!!

If I close my eyes while this video is playing I almost might forget that the song is written/performed by an indie Swedish pop star…and deem it just a forgettable pop tune with an underwhelming melody, ala Ke$ha or something. But then again, I do like the song. And why would I close my eyes during a music video?

I wonder, though: Do Scandinavian roots, cartoony bleach-blonde hair, and an affinity for bubbly beats earn a person indie cred? If so, I’m ALMOST there!

When was the last time you listened to Patsy Cline? I sat alone at my kitchen table tonight, eating a sloppy “breakfast burrito” I pulled together with a bit of remnant fridge inventory, with PC’s greatest hits spinning in my living room. To be honest, I think it was probably the first time I ever listened to Patsy Cline and actually knew it at the time. Apparently she’s an impassable blue link on music’s Wikipedia page…which must explain why I hear her voice and instantly think - “the 50s.”

Sitting alone with her tonight seemed particularly John-Favreau-in-Swingers of me. What was music like when there weren’t movie cliches like this to lean it on? Just a thought…

The best South African wines to drink while watching the World Cup Final

To be honest, I stopped reading once Mr. Steinberger dropped this line: “Hamilton Russell turns out one of the best New World pinot noirs on the market, a subtle, elegant wine with a very Burgundian earthiness about it.”

BUT, this slightly over-bearing piece — for those of us who don’t spend our days and nights nosing stemware — provides a nice recap of where the South African wine industry stands today and the socioeconomic challenges it faces. I’m all for lowering the price of South African imports, especially beer and wine, so maybe if we all become a little more knowledgeable of the quality going on down there we can start making moves to drop them prices. It’s an interesting read, at the very least. Just make sure to stop half-way through if you don’t want your pallet to get skunked by absurd wine-journalism jargon.

A Foreign Game Looks Very American

“This was huge, not because it put that foreign sport over the top, which is never the point, and not because it meant anything less about Algeria — a smaller nation and a skilled, competitive team — but because it felt like a sporting event that could unify America for a few screaming moments.”

I’m not sure we’ve ever slapped shaving cream on each other’s cheeks, but just recently I helped my dad “monitor” his unruly whiskers before church. You might as well conflate the two classic father-son images. Here’s to you Dave, dad — may we share a mirror many more times in the future.

I’m not sure we’ve ever slapped shaving cream on each other’s cheeks, but just recently I helped my dad “monitor” his unruly whiskers before church. You might as well conflate the two classic father-son images.

Here’s to you Dave, dad — may we share a mirror many more times in the future.

America vs. the Brits post-game rooftop sing-a-long, featuring friends from both nations (and one straggler from Australia!). Perhaps “Stand By Me” is fitting for such a gathering? Perhaps; but this would NOT have happened in England yesterday…

A baby having his mind blown by the gripping power of Pop Rocks. This video is amazing.

My grandfather, John Watts Nordenson, passed away a week ago. These three pictures were proudly displayed at his funeral in Minneapolis this past weekend. I don’t think photographs today can possibly replicate, or legitimately emulate, the authenticity and humanity of these shots. I’m also biased. Makes you wanna get a dog and move to Minnesota, eh?

My grandfather, John Watts Nordenson, passed away a week ago. These three pictures were proudly displayed at his funeral in Minneapolis this past weekend. I don’t think photographs today can possibly replicate, or legitimately emulate, the authenticity and humanity of these shots. I’m also biased.

Makes you wanna get a dog and move to Minnesota, eh?

Old Time

When the doorbell rang I never presumed that it was him.

A fortune lives behind those eyes, along that bending neck
But I will never know, won’t ever want to know
Because it would take time
Young time, not old time.

Old time rings a neighbor’s doorbell with a surprise
Old time digs deep, undistracted, on its knees, for hours of sun
Old time isn’t scared of the moon — there’s been too many
Old time will always ask the same questions and tell the same stories.

Because we want it like that
Young time can’t have the same thing.

When did I decide that truth and sense expire and are replaced by wisdom?
Did he ever decide that they did, he will?
Does the more you live the simpler it gets the softer you speak the color of death changes?

Do colors change in old time?

I want my colors to keep spinning until I stop the wheel and pick my order.
Then I can finally live.
Only then.
I can afford to put off my life.

When he stopped the wheel, how many colors did he have to choose from?
Did he want more?
Did he just miss out?

No, old time doesn’t miss out, for that would be a waste
A waste of what has been earned
The peace of concluding what the world means for me, and what I mean for the world.

Young time will turn into old time.
The wheel will stop, whether I stop it or not.
Old time will forgive young time
Because it won’t want to go back, and it won’t want anyone to confuse it for young time.
After all, a man can only wear one watch.

I hope I’ll know it’s him at the door next time, and I’ll have something in my hands for him.

- for Bob

Now that is some RICH. MEDIA. I consider myself — very, very, very indirectly — a producer of this video. If you don’t know why, you don’t know what I do everyday.

“You’ve got to choose what you read, choose what to believe, can’t take if from anyone else.”

The Softpack - “Answer to Yourself”

If you didn’t see this today, you should have. Man, America should like soccer more.