Filed under: Barrels of Fun, Books, Music, My Experience with Existence, Nouvelle Musique | Tags: Exercise, Headlights, Miranda July, Travis Day
Travis has a blog, my biceps are ever-growing, Headlights has a new album out, I’m a better liar than you (or I) thought, my music taste is so white, and books are calling your name.
So I believe that Travis is my most unlikely friend. When I moved here, I met him almost immediately, but it seemed I would be closer friends with the other kids in his social circle. Well, je me suis trompé. We’re family now. Anyway, he has a blog called Aluminum Pancake (because Metal Waffle was taken–I kid you not), and I think that if you click and check it out often, he might get an ego boost and start to write rather frequently.
Biceps, I started lifting, blah blah blah, muscles, blah blah blah. I know it’s not interesting or anything, but I swearz to Gawd that I started seeing results after…I want to say not even a full week of casual lifting. You don’t even have to do anything heavy duty; most of the time, I lift five pounds, no lie. Then again, this is coming from a girl who has no muscle on her body. I’m so untoned.
Derek gave me Headlights’ first album, Kill Them With Kindness, for my birthday. This was shortly before I turned into a bitch. Anyway, I fuckin’ loved the album even if it was a little pop for my peculiar tastes. No worries, though, since I asked for it and I truly enjoyed it, even if I could see my FOB-fan little sister listening to them. Well, that album was what, 2006? Yeah, 2006. I’m not a big checker-upper on even my favourite bands; par exemple, I haven’t heard shit about Jenny Lewis since August when Rilo Kiley released Under the Blacklight. Yesterday, I was surfing the interwebs (particularly the Hype Machine) and lo and behold! A holy blog article about Headlights was perched there like a sign from JESUS. And it gave me two mp3s, which I ungraciously stole like the little bastard I am. However much I cursed Headlights’ white, white, whiiite teenish almost atmospheric pop-rock approach to Kill Them With Kindness (while I sang along), I completely embrace their new sound, which almost seems to grab influences from some sick indie bands. Belle and Sebastian a bit, perhaps, or maybe Camera Obscura or SOMETHING I CAN’T PUT MY FINGER ON. Reminiscent of a band that pulls from another decade, 1960s-ish. I can see Erin Fein in a red polka-dotted dress. You know what I’m sayin’? Or maybe Rilo Kiley’s “With Arms Outstretched.” Of course, I’m buying the album, but before you do, I can give you an mp3 to tide you over. Oh, and no need to worry–they still have beloved bells on at least one track.
Cherry Tulips | Headlights
Lies, I lie to myself all the time. I don’t lie to other people, but the one biggest thing I’ve ever lied about, I don’t feel guilty about it. Or not in the way I’m supposed to. I feel guilty to the wrong person, maybe. And I definitely should feel some correct regret by now. Just wait, though; karma will come around and I’ll gain a port wine stain or go blind or get pregnant (herpes at the very least). Miraculously.
Speaking of whiteness and lies, I have realized as of late that I’m a fair bit of a hypocrite because while I claim appreciation of hip-hop, I have found that my collection of this genre has strangely depleted over the past few months. If you can point me in the right direction towards any music that is cultural or different, I’d appreciate it. I’ll write about it if I like it enough, and I’ll probably have to mention your name because I’ll be so full of gratitude. I don’t mind foreign languages.
I can’t tell you enough times to just pick up No one belongs here more than you and read it. Read it all the way through and savour it. Read it with a yellow highlighter on hand and mark the parts that touch you. Read it on the couch on a lazy weekend. Read it when your heart hurts. Read it before bed. Read it like a Christian would read the Bible. Read it, and it’s okay to cry when Pip leaves the narrator for Kate Berryman. And when she picks the narrator up from work that one time. And when Lyon still loves Deb. Read it over again and just appreciate it and you can cry when you’re done. The book is that phenomenal. “Everyone knows that if you paint a human being entirely with house paint he will live, as long as you don’t paint the bottom of his feet. It takes only a little thing like this to kill a person.”
Oh, yeah, there’s a lunar eclipse tonight.
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