So, I've been checking out some new music lately. I've discovered two artists that, on their own, probably wouldn't rate an entry, but together have enough coincidence that I think, "Hey, I should blog about this."
Functionally, musically, the two artists have little in common. But they do have two notable similarities: First, they both use the word "Spirit" in their band names. The first, out of the UK, is "The Duke Spirit". The second, out of (I think) California, is called "Delta Spirit" -- but that's as indicative of their sound as it is of their location. ... I don't really get what they were going for.
Anyway, the second thing they have in common is that I checked them out because they sound like music I already listen to, or, at least, their front-persons do.
The lead singer of The Duke Spirit sounds just like Milla Jovovich. Even though she isn't. I checked. The lead singer of Delta Spirit sounds just like Alex Greenwald, lead singer of Phantom Planet. I mean, with the voice breaks and everything. He's not, though. I checked.
The Duke Spirit is old-school moody rock. You know the kind that manages to sound angry and anesthetized at the same time? It works for them sometimes, but their big problem is one of my top musical peeves: many of their songs sound exactly the same. Ugh. Still, I granted 5 songs from their album "Neptune" for iPod status. I liked "The Step And The Walk" enough that I corrected the shoddy lyrics floating around the internet; that and "Wooden Heart" are my favorites.
Delta Spirit doesn't have that problem. All their songs on "Ode To Sunshine" sound pretty different, which is awesome, because apparently that's harder to accomplish than I thought. Their problem, though is in their lyrics. They seem to like singing about The State Of Things and unfortunately they aren't as poignant and affecting as they probably think they are. It's like they're trying to mix earnest 60s idealism with self-aware hipsterism, and it's just annoying. You'll hear them start going on about "this world" in pretty much every song. It's okay when they're laying down some solid rock to back it up, which they do on several songs (one such being "People C'mon"). But generally, just ... no. I also synched 5 of their songs up to the pod, though I was probably being generous, because three of those are really great. One of them is a song called "Trashcan," in which the percussion is provided by - wait for it - a trashcan.
And that's it for this episode.
Saturday
Sunday
Friday
... huh
It may be that you, like me, assumed that you wouldn't find $10,000+ jewelry in a catalogue.
It turns out we just weren't getting the right catalogues.
It turns out we just weren't getting the right catalogues.
Monday
Just so you know, I do have other interests!
And I could tell you about those interests! Like what books I'm reading and what things I discovered just today that involve rock bands or kettle-dyed yarn. (I totally still knit!)
But I know that change is scary, so we'll leave it for another day.
Now here's something about That Book Series, You Know The One!
I just found this, and I laughed until I was in excruciating pain. The only thing I could say for five minutes, in-between the wheezing and giggling was: "oh my Christ." In case you were having the slightest twinge of curiosity, I will now save you the trouble of finding out how the Twilight series ends, and what you reaction would be, had you experienced it firsthand: Click!
But I know that change is scary, so we'll leave it for another day.
Now here's something about That Book Series, You Know The One!
I just found this, and I laughed until I was in excruciating pain. The only thing I could say for five minutes, in-between the wheezing and giggling was: "oh my Christ." In case you were having the slightest twinge of curiosity, I will now save you the trouble of finding out how the Twilight series ends, and what you reaction would be, had you experienced it firsthand: Click!
Thursday
Things I say in real life, but not on the internet.
In recent times, I have discovered that there are certain words and phrases that I say all the time in spoken conversations, yet rarely use on the internet. I suppose they're kind of like verbal tics, only somewhat longer. Conversely, many of my written tics (I'm looking at you, "totally" and "awesome") rarely find their way into my lingual utterances. (I'm far more likely to say "fantastic.")
In fact, I think the only word I toss out equally in writing and speech is "necessarily." I don't know why I love that word so much, I just really, really do.
Anyway. A list!
nonsense - As in "What is this nonsense?" and "I can't deal with this nonsense right now." Or "This is a lot of nonsense."
business - I actually got this from some post Will made years ago about his "bidness". I reverted it back to proper form and have been unable to give up saying it since. Before I discovered "nonsense" it carried a lot of the pejorative weight I imbue there, but now it's a more general description of any neutral happening. "Once we finish with this business, we can go do something else."
good beans - I have no idea where I came up with this, but I generally use it in the sense that you would use "good egg" and/or "good deal." If someone is kind to you, it is appropriate to say, "Aww, you're good beans." If you are eating a delicious meal, it is appropriate to say, "This is some good beans!" Even if what you are eating is not, in fact, beans.
in life/sometimes in life - This is an interjection on the level of "shit happens." Even though it frustrates my mother, this phrase is never completed with what goes on sometimes in life, or even with an appropriate elliptical tail-off. It just is what it is. Hey, sometimes in life.
absolutement/absolutes - A way to express a concordance of feeling. Does it get a little annoying? Oh, absolutes! Can it sometimes come off a little sarcastic? Absolutement! But then, so can most everything I say.
b-nans, et al. - For some reason, I sometimes want to reduce words to no more than two syllables. This mood usually strikes when I'm talking about foodstuffs. B-nans, to-mates, po-tates, etc. Stress is usually on the first syllable. Sometimes it makes what I'm saying incomprehensible, since I'm usually doing it on the fly.
In fact, I think the only word I toss out equally in writing and speech is "necessarily." I don't know why I love that word so much, I just really, really do.
Anyway. A list!
nonsense - As in "What is this nonsense?" and "I can't deal with this nonsense right now." Or "This is a lot of nonsense."
business - I actually got this from some post Will made years ago about his "bidness". I reverted it back to proper form and have been unable to give up saying it since. Before I discovered "nonsense" it carried a lot of the pejorative weight I imbue there, but now it's a more general description of any neutral happening. "Once we finish with this business, we can go do something else."
good beans - I have no idea where I came up with this, but I generally use it in the sense that you would use "good egg" and/or "good deal." If someone is kind to you, it is appropriate to say, "Aww, you're good beans." If you are eating a delicious meal, it is appropriate to say, "This is some good beans!" Even if what you are eating is not, in fact, beans.
in life/sometimes in life - This is an interjection on the level of "shit happens." Even though it frustrates my mother, this phrase is never completed with what goes on sometimes in life, or even with an appropriate elliptical tail-off. It just is what it is. Hey, sometimes in life.
absolutement/absolutes - A way to express a concordance of feeling. Does it get a little annoying? Oh, absolutes! Can it sometimes come off a little sarcastic? Absolutement! But then, so can most everything I say.
b-nans, et al. - For some reason, I sometimes want to reduce words to no more than two syllables. This mood usually strikes when I'm talking about foodstuffs. B-nans, to-mates, po-tates, etc. Stress is usually on the first syllable. Sometimes it makes what I'm saying incomprehensible, since I'm usually doing it on the fly.
Monday
HP is srs bsns.
JK Rowling wins copyright case.
Yay!!! I know I haven't talked about this at all, but I am really really happy right now.
Fuck you, Steve Vander Ark. Fuck your classifications, and fuck your Peter Pan syndrome.
Yay!!! I know I haven't talked about this at all, but I am really really happy right now.
Fuck you, Steve Vander Ark. Fuck your classifications, and fuck your Peter Pan syndrome.
Wednesday
Something I never imagined saying, yet did.
"I am honest to God not shitting you about the time-traveling cannibal mermaids."
Monday
I've heard this one doesn't suck.
But I don't actually know, so don't hold me to that. If you know, fill me in.
Some random (though generally entertaining and enjoyable) people on the internet have recommended the Gemma Doyle series of books. I've heard of that before, but I'm not terribly familiar. Apparently it's about a boarding school for witches. A movie is in the works (of course). I've been assured that the quality is ridiculously superior that Those Works Which We Do Not Name.
I kind of want to read it.
My desire stems mostly from wanting to see how close it is to the Story I've Never Written. Which ... I realize isn't very specific. At present I have between 5-10 stories I've never written at various stages of brewing inside my head. But this one is different.
When I was about 6-10 I had a series of dreams that were, basically, about a boarding school for witches. It was in one part clearly based on my experiences in summer camp, in another part clearly based on watching The Worst Witch too many times, and in a final part composed of my subconscious's unknowable fathoms. (If I've ever blessed you with one of my dream transcripts, you know.)
Anyway, I had a whole bunch of dreams about this. I don't usually have repeat or sequel dreams, and I've never had a dream series go on for as long. A story developed and scenes happened and it was generally kind of awesome.
But, um. A boarding school where you learn witchcraft? Not exactly a novel novel concept. Even though my story was totally nothing like Harry Potter. It may be like this series, though. I don't know! We'll see. Maybe.
Some random (though generally entertaining and enjoyable) people on the internet have recommended the Gemma Doyle series of books. I've heard of that before, but I'm not terribly familiar. Apparently it's about a boarding school for witches. A movie is in the works (of course). I've been assured that the quality is ridiculously superior that Those Works Which We Do Not Name.
I kind of want to read it.
My desire stems mostly from wanting to see how close it is to the Story I've Never Written. Which ... I realize isn't very specific. At present I have between 5-10 stories I've never written at various stages of brewing inside my head. But this one is different.
When I was about 6-10 I had a series of dreams that were, basically, about a boarding school for witches. It was in one part clearly based on my experiences in summer camp, in another part clearly based on watching The Worst Witch too many times, and in a final part composed of my subconscious's unknowable fathoms. (If I've ever blessed you with one of my dream transcripts, you know.)
Anyway, I had a whole bunch of dreams about this. I don't usually have repeat or sequel dreams, and I've never had a dream series go on for as long. A story developed and scenes happened and it was generally kind of awesome.
But, um. A boarding school where you learn witchcraft? Not exactly a novel novel concept. Even though my story was totally nothing like Harry Potter. It may be like this series, though. I don't know! We'll see. Maybe.
Friday
Wednesday
Fair warning.
It's harder than it used to be to find pictures of Robert Plant before he was unfortunate looking. It's depressing.
Monday
Thursday
On notice: Stephen Colbert.
I normally greatly enjoy The Colbert Report. I have an immense fondness for Mr. Colbert. However, last night, he was really pushing it.
First, he featured several spiders. Then, he interviewed Kevin Costner.
I could at least sort of watch the spider thing. At least they were encased in glass. Costner wasn't. My dazzle was highly chagrined, and I'm thinking about going to his house and giving him a pop in the nose.
PS. I know where Stephen Colbert lives.
PPS. I cannot stop saying "This chagrins my dazzle" and variations thereupon.
PPPS. I wouldn't really go to his house. Probably.
First, he featured several spiders. Then, he interviewed Kevin Costner.
I could at least sort of watch the spider thing. At least they were encased in glass. Costner wasn't. My dazzle was highly chagrined, and I'm thinking about going to his house and giving him a pop in the nose.
PS. I know where Stephen Colbert lives.
PPS. I cannot stop saying "This chagrins my dazzle" and variations thereupon.
PPPS. I wouldn't really go to his house. Probably.
Wednesday
"Twilight means never having to say you're kidding."
Turns out that I don't have to formulate any actual thoughts, because other people have already done it for me.
This is what I've been saying the whole time!!
This basically explains what the last six months of my life have been like.
I mean, IF YOU'RE INTERESTED. Not that I need you to be.
Guys, I'll get back to posting about my hair/misanthropy/love of Harry Potter/musical leanings/stuff that makes no sense to anyone but me real soon, I promise.
This is what I've been saying the whole time!!
This basically explains what the last six months of my life have been like.
I mean, IF YOU'RE INTERESTED. Not that I need you to be.
Guys, I'll get back to posting about my hair/misanthropy/love of Harry Potter/musical leanings/stuff that makes no sense to anyone but me real soon, I promise.
Tuesday
"There are no words for this."
So, as some of my more observant readers already know, on Saturday the latest book in The Worst Story Ever Told series (or, "It That Must Not Be Named" or, ... whatever) came out. And I acquired it forthwith and read it because the print is laced with crack and it's an incurable textually transmitted disease.
Holy crap it was so awful. I was completely unprepared for how awful it was, even though the rest of the series is already terrible, and I'd pretty much been wholly spoiled for it. I mean, it's been three days, and I still can't fully wrap my head around it.
First of all, Meyer takes a flying leap from just being a bad writer into bona fide batshit crazy territory. Secondly, the misogyny explodes and splatters everywhere. Speaking of exploding and splattering everywhere, there are bucket-loads of unexpected gore, which was so surprising and out of character that it read as farcical. And also gross. Also, there's even more mystical pedophilia and amped up dehumanization of indigenous peoples through the Magical Native trope. All your favorites and so much more.
Then there's about 400 pages of tension and OMG there will be huge problems and confrontations!!!1!!11111one!!@@1! And then ... everybody hugs it out, the end. Seriously.
On the plus side, this gives me some hope that the tide may be turning, and more people will realize and have no fear of admitting that the Empress is naked. The srs bsns fans are highly chagrined right now. There's a concerted effort at Amazon to get people who hated the book to return it, instead of, say, burning it, like they say they want to. Of course, there are also plenty of people still willing to give it five-star reviews with the admonition, "Who are we to judge her book??" So, maybe not.
And guys, as always if you want to read this mess just let me know I totally have the PDFs it's so freaking awesome I will be your literary crack dealer!!
Postscript: I BELIEVE IN NESSIE!!
Holy crap it was so awful. I was completely unprepared for how awful it was, even though the rest of the series is already terrible, and I'd pretty much been wholly spoiled for it. I mean, it's been three days, and I still can't fully wrap my head around it.
First of all, Meyer takes a flying leap from just being a bad writer into bona fide batshit crazy territory. Secondly, the misogyny explodes and splatters everywhere. Speaking of exploding and splattering everywhere, there are bucket-loads of unexpected gore, which was so surprising and out of character that it read as farcical. And also gross. Also, there's even more mystical pedophilia and amped up dehumanization of indigenous peoples through the Magical Native trope. All your favorites and so much more.
Then there's about 400 pages of tension and OMG there will be huge problems and confrontations!!!1!!11111one!!@@1! And then ... everybody hugs it out, the end. Seriously.
On the plus side, this gives me some hope that the tide may be turning, and more people will realize and have no fear of admitting that the Empress is naked. The srs bsns fans are highly chagrined right now. There's a concerted effort at Amazon to get people who hated the book to return it, instead of, say, burning it, like they say they want to. Of course, there are also plenty of people still willing to give it five-star reviews with the admonition, "Who are we to judge her book??" So, maybe not.
And guys, as always if you want to read this mess just let me know I totally have the PDFs it's so freaking awesome I will be your literary crack dealer!!
Postscript: I BELIEVE IN NESSIE!!
Wednesday
Tuesday
Monday
You know what I like? Music.
Music is like the opposite of getting fourteen mosquito bites in an afternoon in which you didn't even leave the house. That is, it's a thing I greatly enjoy. It's also the opposite of falling down several stairs. Several brick stairs. In shorts. Onto concrete. Basically, it's a good time all around.
Depending on the music, of course. Some music is shit. Or some neutral substance.
Yes, both those things happened today.
So let's get this party started. For your mental clarity, I'm trying to select the album that I would have selected at that general point in time, not necessarily what I would choose now.
1983 - It's kind of a lie to include this as a year I was alive, actually. I was only around for 3 fifty-secondths of it. Boy this is off to a bad start.
1984 - Um. Going solely by Wikipedia's listings ... nothing, seriously.
1985 - ... Nothing.
1986 - All right, here's the thing, I spent my earliest years listening to a lot of ABBA, Johnny Cash, Celtic music, Zeppelin, and cassettes of Rainbow Brite or Sesame Street.
1987 - Out Of The Blue by Debbie Gibson. YES I JUST DID THAT.
1988 - New Jersey by Bon Jovi.
1989 - Like A Prayer by Madonna.
1990 - Wilson Phillips by Wilson Phillips. (Narrowly beating out NKOTB.)
1991 - Time Passes By by Kathy Mattea.
1992 - This year and the next are the years I became officially aware of popular music. So whereas the previous years I either had one clear choice, or was struggling to find something, I now have a Cambrian Explosion of options. That said, America's Least Wanted by Ugly Kid Joe.
1993 - Tuesday Night Music Club by Sheryl Crow. (The first CD I ever bought myself.)
1994 - Weezer (Blue Album) by Weezer.
1995 - New Beginning by Tracy Chapman.
1996 - Tidal by Fiona Apple.
1997 - Either/Or by Elliott Smith. (A bit of a cheat, because I didn't start listening to Elliott Smith until a few years later. However, the nearest competitors would be Erykah Badu, Savage Garden, or the Spice Girls, all of which would have been equally hedging on truthfulness. I spent half this year crippled, so I read a lot.)
1998 - If You Forget Me... by Devics.
1999 - Fly by The Dixie Chicks (This year was really slim for some reason. Maybe because everyone though we were going to die?)
2000 - Ghost Stories by Amanda Ghost.
2001 - The Tyranny Of Distance by Ted Leo And The Pharmacists.
2002 - Castaways And Cutouts by The Decemberists.
2003 - Transatlanticism by Death Cab For Cutie.
2004 - More Adventurous by Rilo Kiley.
2005 - The Mysterious Production Of Eggs by Andrew Bird.
2006 - Fox Confessor Brings The Flood by Neko Case.
2007 - Made Of Bricks by Kate Nash.
2008 - Stop Drop And Roll!!! by The Foxboro Hot Tubs.
On Jenny's blog, I said, "I'm interested to see the progression from endearingly overproduced to insufferably hipster." -- I think I've done my work here.
Depending on the music, of course. Some music is shit. Or some neutral substance.
Yes, both those things happened today.
So let's get this party started. For your mental clarity, I'm trying to select the album that I would have selected at that general point in time, not necessarily what I would choose now.
1983 - It's kind of a lie to include this as a year I was alive, actually. I was only around for 3 fifty-secondths of it. Boy this is off to a bad start.
1984 - Um. Going solely by Wikipedia's listings ... nothing, seriously.
1985 - ... Nothing.
1986 - All right, here's the thing, I spent my earliest years listening to a lot of ABBA, Johnny Cash, Celtic music, Zeppelin, and cassettes of Rainbow Brite or Sesame Street.
1987 - Out Of The Blue by Debbie Gibson. YES I JUST DID THAT.
1988 - New Jersey by Bon Jovi.
1989 - Like A Prayer by Madonna.
1990 - Wilson Phillips by Wilson Phillips. (Narrowly beating out NKOTB.)
1991 - Time Passes By by Kathy Mattea.
1992 - This year and the next are the years I became officially aware of popular music. So whereas the previous years I either had one clear choice, or was struggling to find something, I now have a Cambrian Explosion of options. That said, America's Least Wanted by Ugly Kid Joe.
1993 - Tuesday Night Music Club by Sheryl Crow. (The first CD I ever bought myself.)
1994 - Weezer (Blue Album) by Weezer.
1995 - New Beginning by Tracy Chapman.
1996 - Tidal by Fiona Apple.
1997 - Either/Or by Elliott Smith. (A bit of a cheat, because I didn't start listening to Elliott Smith until a few years later. However, the nearest competitors would be Erykah Badu, Savage Garden, or the Spice Girls, all of which would have been equally hedging on truthfulness. I spent half this year crippled, so I read a lot.)
1998 - If You Forget Me... by Devics.
1999 - Fly by The Dixie Chicks (This year was really slim for some reason. Maybe because everyone though we were going to die?)
2000 - Ghost Stories by Amanda Ghost.
2001 - The Tyranny Of Distance by Ted Leo And The Pharmacists.
2002 - Castaways And Cutouts by The Decemberists.
2003 - Transatlanticism by Death Cab For Cutie.
2004 - More Adventurous by Rilo Kiley.
2005 - The Mysterious Production Of Eggs by Andrew Bird.
2006 - Fox Confessor Brings The Flood by Neko Case.
2007 - Made Of Bricks by Kate Nash.
2008 - Stop Drop And Roll!!! by The Foxboro Hot Tubs.
On Jenny's blog, I said, "I'm interested to see the progression from endearingly overproduced to insufferably hipster." -- I think I've done my work here.
Saturday
Friday
Yeah, I'm definitely a lot less happy today.
Because I think I'm having a kidney stone attack. Or appendicitis! Or a burst cyst! It's always so much fun to guess. But I'm pretty sure it's a kidney stone.
I've been downing water and tea since 8 o'clock this morning, very little of which is coming out of me in the approved way. Although I did have some mostly-water projectile vomit a little while ago, so that was really fun. I also have to wait another 2-ish hours before I can take more oxycodone, which will be fine until ... probably about half an hour from now.
Other than being doped up and in near-constant pain, I'm pretty much going about my day as normal. What the hell else am I gonna do, right? My mother stayed home today, so happily I have someone to take me to the emergency room, if that becomes the prudent choice of action.
Incidentally, in case you were wondering what was up yesterday, some epic, and eventually legendary shit was going down on the internet because of Comic Con. Or, its new name: Ear Rape '08.
In an effort to distract both myself and you, here's an interview with Robert Pattinson, star of the hot mess that is Twilight. I think it adequately captures why I'm officially obsessively in love with him now. That and the fact that he showed up to this thing high as a kite covered in hickies wearing clothes he stole from the set and monumentally disheveled hair. I know that doesn't sound like it follows, but to be honest, the dirtier he seems, the fewer inhibitions I feel.
I've been downing water and tea since 8 o'clock this morning, very little of which is coming out of me in the approved way. Although I did have some mostly-water projectile vomit a little while ago, so that was really fun. I also have to wait another 2-ish hours before I can take more oxycodone, which will be fine until ... probably about half an hour from now.
Other than being doped up and in near-constant pain, I'm pretty much going about my day as normal. What the hell else am I gonna do, right? My mother stayed home today, so happily I have someone to take me to the emergency room, if that becomes the prudent choice of action.
Incidentally, in case you were wondering what was up yesterday, some epic, and eventually legendary shit was going down on the internet because of Comic Con. Or, its new name: Ear Rape '08.
In an effort to distract both myself and you, here's an interview with Robert Pattinson, star of the hot mess that is Twilight. I think it adequately captures why I'm officially obsessively in love with him now. That and the fact that he showed up to this thing high as a kite covered in hickies wearing clothes he stole from the set and monumentally disheveled hair. I know that doesn't sound like it follows, but to be honest, the dirtier he seems, the fewer inhibitions I feel.
Thursday
I'm sorry.
I'm sure this will pass tomorrow. ... Sunday the latest. But right now? I love my new fandom more than I love all of you.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
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