INDIEchouette


THE BEST TIME ON BROAD STREET
5 September, 2009, 1002 am
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , ,

Mmk, I don’t want to push down the Intimacy Project post or anything, but I just had to tell you two stories.  One isn’t really a story.  The other is.

The first happened probably two nights ago.  I’d just gotten home from a fairly rough hangout and Virginia wasn’t home and I didn’t want to just sit around on my ass in front of the computer.  On the ride home, I’d seen this guy a few blocks away holding up a sign saying, “ANYTHING HELPS.”  I’d seen this guy before.  He was a part of the backpacking troubadours wandering through Richmond lately.  When I saw him, I immediately thought of the vegan pasta in my fridge and my birthday money.  I knew exactly where the majority of the backpackers were stationed, right by the ATM.  I packed up a good deal of pasta in a tupperware container, warmed it in the microwave, grabbed a fork, and set off for the ATM.

I got out twenty bucks and actually considered giving them fifty, but as I walked away from the ATM, some kid asked me for some money for fighting drug abuse by school-age children, and I guess if he’s talking about pot, then fuck that shit, but I can rarely say no, so I gave him five and then walked over to stand a couple of sidewalk squares away from the backpacking troubadours.

I was nervous as fuck.  I’m really intimidated by anyone new, but these were people I admired a good deal.  I mean, you can first identify them by their backpacks and all-over brownness.  They are grody in a way that I love.  They have dogs on worn-out leashes with bandanas around their necks.  And let me tell you, these dogs are not depressed to be backpackers.  They are overjoyed.  The backpacking troubadours care about them.  The backpackers take them on walks all the time and they love the dogs in a way that most suburbanites cannot understand.

I should also explain that the backpackers are troubadours because they all have some form of an instrument and they play on the streets to earn their money.  You see a few guitars, a musical handsaw that is bowed (yes, like amiina and yes, it sounds incredible and yes, Matthew the handsaw player does let other people try it out) and an alto saxophone and singers and a shaker.  And they are determined.

I stared at them from a couple of sidewalk squares away for a few minutes, too timid to approach them, but they definitely saw me staring, so I couldn’t chicken out.  I walked away and slipped a fifteen into their open saxophone case and they asked, “Would you like to hear a song?!”  I replied, “Yeah!”  They asked, “What kind of song do you want to hear?!”  And I said, “A good one!”  So they started playing.  I felt awkward standing in front of them for the serenade, so I sat down with them like a few other interested passers-by had.  Their sign said, “Dog In Hospital.  Anything Helps.”

I stayed for a few songs, which they played energetically.  I watched them try to woo passers-by, but it’s hard for them to even get college kids to stop because most are apathetic or maybe shy like me, and most don’t want to part with their money.  Sometimes they get frustrated with the people who ignore them, but mostly they just keep playing.

Between songs, they sometimes asked me questions.  What’s my name?  Where am I from?  Do I live here?  Do I go to school here?  I offered up the pasta, which Matthew, Adam the guitarist, and a few others happily ate with many compliments and shared a bit with one of their dogs.  What am I going to school for?  Am I vegan?  Adam was vegan for a long time.  Matthew scooted over to sit next to me and asked me more questions.  “You know, that sign is true.”  Turns out, one guy’s dog is in the hospital.  He contracted Hepatitis A from eating some fish so his eyes are all yellow and he’s in the hospital and they don’t know how much his treatment will cost until he’s actually done in there.  How old am I?  Have I ever been to Pittsburgh?  Philly is Matthew’s town because the black ladies love him.  One of the dogs who wasn’t in the hospital came up and gave my face a good licking.  Secret:  I don’t mind when dogs lick my face, but I never know what to do.

They played a song about a pretty girl who they wished had dirt on her face, hair on her legs, greasy hair, and a stench about her.  They sang about fighting the government.  They sang about being houseless but not homeless.  I couldn’t stop smiling.

Eventually, they began to stand up, I assumed to leave, so I shook some hands and left feeling mighty happy, but also a bit sad deep down.  It wasn’t because I pitied them, but it was more because I wished I could have helped them out more by giving them a place to sleep and giving them more food and giving them more money.  And I kind of envied their lifestyle.  Fighting the system.  They’re doing something.  I’m just sitting here so comfortably.  They have everything they need and nothing more, and they have all the friends they could ever want.  The only reason I’d have a hard time taking up their lifestyle is because I have a problem asking for help.  But I could learn to play the bells and join another pack of backpacking troubadours.  Someday.  I’ll start planning now.

The other thing I wanted to say is that I’m proud of my sister, Alexa.  I swear she must read this thing.

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I FORGOT A TITLE

I just zoned out and pictured Ali and Becca with Ed Zych moustaches.  Hahah.  Wow.

Speaking of Ali, she created a new blog.  I am going to advocate her blog for a minute.  You might like my blog because I am long-winded and really immature and I mope a lot.  You get to watch me grow up.  Go back to my first post, and you want to punch me in the face.  I like to explain things thoroughly so you completely understand whatever I’m talking about.  And I try so hard not to offend.  You will like Ali’s blog because she uses colourful pictures to illustrate her points.  She writes with an intensity that is unheard of.  Somehow, she is able to get her point across with few words.  If we both wrote about the same thing, I’m pretty sure that I would take a five-paragraph essay to convey what she can in five sentences.  The way she writes conjures up thoughts of vignettes.  They are little snippets of her life that require no backstory.  Ali’s writing is unique in this way.  The way I write is basically a very unpoetic epic poem or a journal.  I give you some backstory.  You can track my progress.  I change.

Dear Ali,
I will always find you whenever you start a new blog.  You can’t hide.
Love, Paige

When I put it this way, I wonder why you read my blog at all.  It’s probably for the free candy.  Free music.  Yeah.

Honestly, I don’t know why I’ve let the blog go for this long without some new music.  Because I’ve been listening avidly all this time, finding new lovely artists.  I’ve been tuning my iTunes to spring.

I feel that I should start slowly though.  First, I said back in February or March that I would write about She & Him, and I didn’t lie but I just haven’t done it yet.

Erika is the one who introduced me to She & Him.  She told me that she falls asleep to their album, Volume One, every night.  It is her teddy bear.  I was excited but a little skeptical.  It seemed like sacrelige to me to bed down with an album like that, to worship something other than Rilo Kiley.  And while they are no Rilo Kiley for me, while Zooey Deschanel is no Jenny Lewis and M. Ward no Conor Oberst/Blake Sennett, they put up a damn good fight.

shehimsheandhim

If you like Jenny Lewis’ solo albums and if you love 50s/60s pop music with a slight bubblegum flavour, then She & Him is for you.  I really don’t know how they manage it.  It’s a mind-blowing mixture, slightly dangerous, but for what it is, it is perfection.  I would even venture to wholeheartedly recommend She & Him to older listeners, people who grew up with that 50s or 60s bubblegum pop.  I don’t think anyone out of their mid-twenties even reads this, but next time you and your Aunt Elaine are bonding over music, pop this one in.

As for the album itself, most of the thirteen tracks check in at under three minutes.  She & Him don’t go for the epic “Tereza and Thomas”-type shit.  That means that every song is bite-sized, kind of like a Sour Patch Watermelon.

I should never write reviews for CDs again.  My analogies are cringeworthy.

You Really Got A Hold On Me | She & Him
[mediafire] [buy]
Did I mention that they do covers that make me want to melt?  Also, maybe you can help me.  In iTunes and on Last.fm, it’s named “You Really Gotta Hold On Me” but elsewhere, it is named “You Really Got A Hold On Me”.  Which is correct?

I Thought I Saw Your Face Today | She & Him
[mediafire] [buy]
Did I mention that I love sick beats?

While I’m on a roll, talking about amazing women, it is mandaroty that I mention Sarah Maple.  She is an incredibly accomplished and clever feminist painter and photographer.  I don’t want to just paraphrase the Bitch article that introduced her to me on a formal basis (because I had run into her a few times before, but the websites never cited her).  She’s just an incredible cultural commentator.

This ones my favourite.

This one's my favourite.

As for real-life occurrences, I go home in three weeks (less than a month) and I am stoked.  I will be able to sit outside and read all day while my sisters suffer at school.  And for those of you still in high school, yes, that is a pretty mean thing to say, but when you think about it, I suffered too.  I went to school for fourteen years before arriving at this position.  This is my fifteenth year, and it’s almost done.  If you’re in high school, you probably haven’t gone through that much school.



A VERY SOBER HALLOWEEN

Here is why I hate Pokémon.

It takes over your life.

Yesterday was Halloween.

So I have yet to get “crunk.”  Since I got to college, everything has been relatively tame.  I have been to two concerts–Land of Talk/Broken Social Scene (with, of course, Kevin Drew, Brendan Canning, and the Apostle of Hustle) and then Tim Fite/Man Man.  And my friends and I were invited backstage at the Tim Fite/Man Man one, but everyone thought we were lame because we wouldn’t get naked, jump around in the hot tub, and fuck them in the hot tub/shower/sauna.  In fact, it was just really awkward and I think it would have been less so if there were maybe more than five/six girls and one male.  Because the only male who really associated with us was Tim Fite’s secondhand man, Leroy.  I would like to give credit to the bearded man in the mint-coloured shirt who brought us towels and water, though, for when we wouldn’t take off our clothes in the sauna.  He seemed like he was trying to help Leroy out, but he also seemed to understand that we were just naive people sucked into a weird situation where we were pretty much expected to drop our pants.

I know I shouldn’t base my college career around my ability to get “crunk.”  It doesn’t matter, as I’m here to focus on my grades.  But that doesn’t mean I don’t particularly want to.  It would be acceptable in an intimate setting with close friends.

Just, last night was fun.  I mean, Jaimie and I put on our costumes (she was a lumberjack and I was an effeminate gnome whose mentor was obviously David the Gnome) and went out to eat at the Village.  And then we rented Donnie Darko and watched it in my room.  And then I fell asleep during the movie and Jaimie probably got mad because she hates sleeping people.

We didn’t get crunk like everyone else at VCU, though.  We had no parties to attend.

I’m wearing my gnome hat right now.

Another blog-related update.  Ummmm, I’ve decided that I’m going to write more third-person stories when I can.  I would call them fiction, but they mostly won’t be fiction.  Thus, I can’t call them microfiction either, so until I find a better name for them, they are stories and microstories, seeing as they’re not very long at all.  My purpose is the analysis of people.  It’s purely for fun.  But I do know that most of you only come here for music.



MIX: SEPTEMBRE 2008

Derek has a CD player in his car.  He kept spinning the same CD every time he drove me places.  He told me that these were the songs that were constantly stuck in his head.

Since it was the same CD over and over again, I volunteered to make him a new CD with the songs that are constantly stuck in my head.  He thought that was a good idea because his sister allegedly makes him listen to very bad music sometimes.

This CD was only semi-hard work because I had to hunt down the MP3s online via the Hype Machine and then cut two at the end because a CD only holds 80 minutes.  The rest of the work was easy peasy, just picking out songs that I can’t get enough of lately.

The songs are in no particular order because it’s just a bunch of songs that blitzkrieg my brain in no particular order with no warning.  Because of this random order, I am an advocate of putting this mix on shuffle whenever you want.

And here’s my reasoning for each track in no particular order (main reasoning = catchy).  There are also download links over yonder.

Virgin Suicides [ysi] | Van She
Okay, I’ve already written about how awesome this song is, but I honestly don’t see how anyone could dislike it.  It’s upbeat and happy.  Think “Look Up” by Stars, except without all the encouraging parts.

Two Silver Trees [ysi] | Calexico
“Two Silver Trees” is what “Young Bride” by Midlake was to me about a year ago.  I take this song seriously.

Kids [ysi] | MGMT
The first time I heard “Kids,” I wasn’t paying attention.  And then I ended up downloading it, and for the first two weeks of school, it was my silly anthem for walking around campus.  I felt so MGMT.

Little Monsters [ysi] | Charlotte Gainsbourg
I love bells and I love her whispery Jane Birkin/Serge Gainsbourg-inherited voice.  This song is small furry mystical creatures on the beach on a fall night night during a meteor shower.  Charlotte Gainsbourg could make death by bubonic plague sound good.

Af607105 [ysi] | Charlotte Gainsbourg
What I also love about Charlotte Gainsbourg is that most of her songs are night songs with an accent, for when you’re warm and comfortable and relaxed and in some kind of indescribable state of bliss.  Maybe naked.

Irene [ysi] | Caribou
I think I picked this one up from AllThingsGo once, but disregarded it for the most part.  However, upon moving into college, I discovered that I had a snoring roommate.  My methods of coping during the wee hours of the morning included turning the AC on high, turning on the TV, making banging noises and pretending I couldn’t help it, using earplugs, and listening to my iPod.  During one of the iPod nights, I was able to sleep, but was roused not by loud, unsettling music like the Fall of Troy, but in fact by some of the most peaceful and beautiful music I had ever heard.  In my heavy-lidded, half-conscious state, I noted that the song was “Irene” by Caribou.  It’s been constantly replaying since.

St. Petersburg [ysi] | Brazilian Girls
I lurk the Hype Machine frequently and actually found this track in the “Popular” section.  I downloaded “L’Interprete” because it looked like a French name.  “St. Petersburg” was a tagalong, but I actually like it more because while it’s very chill and catchy, it also soars at some parts and comes down from those orgasms appropriately.

Evening Life [ysi] | The XYZ Affair
While this is a summer song, um, hello?  Most of September is still summer.  We just don’t consider it summer because it’s a transitional month, and we have school and work again.  Well, work for teachers.  It’s the same as June being spring, December being fall, and March being Winter.  I know they’re out of order.  Anyway, I just like the melody, I think, and the singer’s fairly high voice.

Id Engager [ysi] | of Montreal
We all know that of Montreal is crazy fun.  I just think this a subtle improvement on their old stuff.  Less senselessness, but still enough.  Still high-quality, same genre, same Kevin Barnes, same play on words.  Of Montreal is still creepy sex.

Parisian Skies [ysi] | Maximo Park
This one’s an Ali.  You can always tell Alis because they’re British.  Much like “I Adore You” by Melpo Mene “Parisian Skies” floats like clouds.  But they’re more aggressive, passionate clouds.  I have enjoyed this track all summer at the beach, in the car, in bed, walking.  It sounds like I’m a sex addict.  Oh, also, I’m a francophile, so of course I love an amazing indie rock song called Parisian Skies.  Come on, guys.

Gold Mine Gutted [ysi] | Bright Eyes
I used to listen to the Metronomy remix nonstop, but I’ve begun to reappreciate the glory of the original now.  It’s a lot sadder.  In many ways, I think that’s a plus.  It more accurately represents Bright Eyes.  There’s something so chill and spacelike about the original.  It feels like floating.

Two Doors Down [ysi]| Mystery Jets
Yet another fabulous contribution from Ali.  While I initially disliked the eighties touches, now I know I’m in love.  I guess it depends on how you listen.

Gobbledigook [ysi] | Sigur Rós
While a lot of Sigur Rós’ other material is often floaty and dragged out, Gobbledigook is a definite rock piece, all business, no nonsense.  But the percussion makes me want to skip around gleefully.

I’ll Kill Her [ysi] | Soko
She said, “Please can you make some beautiful baybeeez?!”
Little angry Frenchwoman who has her entire life planned out.  I definitely don’t mean any harm to blondes, ever, by putting this song up here.  “All she’s got is blondeness, not even tenderness!”  If I had the space or the patience, I’d put all the lyrics here.

I Blame Coco [ysi] | I Blame Coco
I am a fan of delicate, pretty voices, which is one of my problems with a lot of French music.  A lot of them have deep, raspy voices.  Not a fan.  Coco’s not French, but she is Sting’s daughter and she is my age, and she does have a deep voice.  But her song’s fun, and her voice is a classy addition to this very low-key chanson.

Dishwasher [ysi] | Fujiya & Miyagi
My main obsession with this song is the low-key nature.  Then there’s the percussion.  Then there’s the “raspberry rrrrripple ice cream” part.

Complicated (Avril Lavigne Cover) [ysi] | Ben Gibbard
Shut up!  This is serious!
Wanna know my secret?  I listen to Avril Lavigne to fall asleep some nights.  IT’S OUT.  And while Ben points out that her life isn’t very complicated, man…this is a good cover, especially with the talking at the beginning and at the end.  Those parts make the song.

Hello Benjamin [ysi] | Melpo Mene
I’ve already declared that I’m in love with this band.  But there’s something about the melancholy tone of this one that just gets to me.  That, and it’s always moving.

Broadripple Is Burning [ysi] | Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s
I will haunt you like a ghost
I keep running into this song.  It’s more delicate than a Bright Eyes song.



RILO KILEY FOR REAL THIS TIME

You’re probably wondering why it’s Tuesday and I haven’t written anything about Rilo Kiley yet.  After all, they are my favourite band.  You should expect something by now.

Well, I’m just so sad it’s over.

The opening acts took forever.  Benji Hughes was first up.  Although I was aware that he was an opening act, I opted not to check him out before the show because I was too interested in Thao.  However, I’m kind of glad I didn’t waste my time.  While I fell in love with the greasy-ass guitar player (not Benji, some other guy), I did not enjoy the music generally.  Additionally, jokes were made in our social group about the way Benji looked.  We referred to this one kid at our school as Miss Piggy, and Benji looked quite a lot like this kid.  Hair and all.  As much as I appreciated Benji’s style, completely carefree and hippie-like (I wore my dreamcatcher necklace and this hippie-like headband that I made), only one or two songs clicked with me.  But I don’t remember them.  The crowd did not enjoy the act very much.  I think I will give Benji Hughes a second chance soon, but I can’t right now on account of the fact that I don’t have my music library avec moi.

Thao was next, and ahh!  She was amazing.  My pals didn’t really enjoy her.  They thought that her dancing was weird, but I found it endearing.  She danced like a lion, by the way.  There’s really no other way to describe it.  I craved “Bag of Hammers,” and I was surprised when she didn’t deliver right away.  When she did decide to deliver, though, she started off beat-boxing, so I didn’t really recognize it, but I was impressed.  Oh, and people did not dance as much as I wanted to when she started going, “SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE THE FRAME OF THIS HOUSE DISTRESS THE WOOD MAKE IT SHOUT!!”  I was ready to flail the way I did to Miley Cyrus’ “See You Again” at Prom.

Then again…there wasn’t really room to pull that shit.  It’s a good thing none of us were claustrophobic.  There was this couple standing in front of me, actually.  I think it’s worthwhile to note that no one was really very much taller than me.  Even the guys were mostly reasonably short.  except Jay, Jeremiah, and Derek.  They don’t count, though.  Back to the couple, though.  When I go to shows, I don’t want to be groped.  I want to DANCE.  I want to make a fool out of myself.  I do not want someone constantly kissing me and holding me.  So the couple in front of me, of course, had this pussywhipped guy holding onto his girlfriend and I felt terrible for her.  She must have been suffocating.  Not only did he piss me off immensely, but she did piss me off a little too because her HAIR was this frizzfest and it kept getting in my fucking mouth.  And one time, she reached back to put it over her shoulder and she whipped me in the face with it.  I mean, her hair was beautiful, don’t get me wrong.  It was just getting in my way.

By the way, it was hotter inside than it was outside, and during the day it was 100 degrees outside.  We were sweaty and gross and thirsty, but if we stepped out of the crowd to buy a drink, we would never return to the good spot we had.  By the way, we were to the right of the stage about fifteen feet back.  It was awesome.  We would have gotten better spots if I hadn’t gotten lost on the way to the parking lot and walking to Toad’s Place (which was only about two blocks away tops but I thought I was walking South when I was, in fact, walking North).

Well, Thao was beautiful.

Okay.  So at the end of her act, Thao tells us that Rilo Kiley has planned a super duper surprise, and she hopes we brought adult diapers for this one.  We’re all speculating that…it’s Conor Oberst!  Jenny Lewis will throw candy at us!  Everyone will come out naked!  Jake Gyllenhaal is here!  Blah blah!  Well, we look up and we NOTICED that Jenny Lewis is on a ledge above us watching the opening act.  I shat my pants at that point because THERE SHE IS.  My idol.  Just looking down.  And I couldn’t make myself smile because I was mortified.  Nervous, I guess.  She’s so beautiful and intimidating.  She is the one person I aspire to be like, but I can’t be like her because I’m not sexy.  And she is.

After Thao, Blake Sennett came out and told us that he had a super surprise.  By this point, we’d guessed that it had to be a person.  Well, he brings out these two strangers that a bunch of people cheer for who are from Tennessee (Erika’s comment was, “GOOD!  YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED THERE!”).  I still don’t know what their names were.  But ah, they played alright, if a bit too hillbilly for me.  The crowd lapped it up.  I was ready for Rilo Kiley.  In fact, I thought I would die before I got the opportunity to see Rilo Kiley.  I was so fucking thirsty.  I felt that a heat stroke would be appropriate, and then maybe Rilo Kiley would visit me on my deathbed and tell me how much they appreciated me rockin’ out to their not-so-fabulous opening acts.

Rilo Kiley FINALLY came out after what seemed like eons, and I felt that I could not stand for much longer.  I screamed like a schoolgirl (which is what I am) when they came out and I almost died when I saw Jenny Lewis up closer.  She was wearing a headband much like mine, the way I wear mine, and she wore her bangs on the same side as I always do.  Not a huge deal, but you know I’m going to wear my headband for the rest of the summer.  And you know that I’m going to grow my hair out longer like hers.

She opened with “Close Call,” followed by several other Under the Blacklight songs.  Rilo Kiley’s delivery was not disappointing, but the song choices sort of were.  No “A Man/Me/Then Jim.”  We got a rockin’ version of “Ripchord,” which was excellent.  Everyone sang “’cause nobody loves you” together.  Blake held side conversations with the audience, and Jenny smiled at people.  “I Never” was incredible, as were “Silver Lining,” “It’s A Hit,” and “A Better Son/Daughter” (which I was surprised the audience wanted to hear).  The concert secured my belief in Rilo Kiley and my admiration for the members.  I can’t help but think I’m sad it’s over, though.  It wasn’t like the Arcade Fire, where I had real stories to take back.  Jenny Lewis did make some incredible faces while singing, though, and–oh yeah, she wore these black Maryjanes like I have.  I guess I just don’t want to talk about it all, except for the fact that I love Rilo Kiley so much.

Also, how the FUCK could people forget the lyrics to “The Frug” when they were DYING to hear it?  I know I would crack under pressure, too, but DAMN.  Get past the “And I can do the Frug.  I can do the Robocop.  I can do the Freddie.  I cannot do the Smurf.”  It’s sad, and everyone in the band was so disappointed.  I guess it’s Jenny’s fault for not wanting to sing.  But still, if you’re going to get up onstage, you should know the lyrics.  You’re a lucky fuck and you just ruined your shot at impressing my idols.

Yiih.  I’m going to Tropical Smoothie later today.  I just realized this weekend how much I hate Richmond and why, and how much I love Lewisburg and why.  For one thing, people in Richmond are asshole drivers.  I got stuck at a toll booth, and the guys behind me were laughing and hollering like obnoxious dicks.  And then I had to switch lanes on Cary Street because a car was geting towed, and about ten cars went by before someone was kind enough to let me in.  One car even passed me, and the passenger laughed loudly at me out the window.  I was all, “What the fuck’s your problem?”  And there is no air conditioning in my car, so I was all sweaty and intimidating.  I actually didn’t say that “What the fuck’s your problem?” shit.

It’s just so hard to connect with people in Richmond, too.  They’re selfish, they don’t want to help you out, and they already have friends so they don’t need to worry about being nice to you, even though for me it’s just a common rule to be nice to everyone unless they’re an asshole to you first.  Every sarcastic thing I said to my kind-of friends at dinner before Rilo Kiley was either disregarded or taken completely seriously.  Jokes flew over people’s heads, whereas I know that Carol and Ali would have laughed and not ignored me if they’d been there.  I only found one of my not-quite friends very nice and not at all annoying.

Also, everyone at the concert was so superficial, dressed up in their best scenexcore clothes to go see Rilo Kiley and I was like, “Whoa there, pardner.  It’s just a concert.  Jenny Lewis probably won’t look at you and your perfectly straight hair and awesome eyeliner job.”  That’s why I chose to take the plain “dirty hippie” approach to everything.  Wear what I want, dance how I feel.  And I felt comfortable.  I mean, except when Jenny Lewis looked my way, in which case I had to stop lipsynching and start trembling and try to form a big dopey smile.  I guess that’s just what happens.

The “indie” kids there, by the by, reminded me of the scene girl Ali and I encountered downtown in front of the community center, and I still haven’t gotten over how fake and snippety she was even though it was no big deal at all.  I mean, Ali said, “Ooh!  I love your hair colour!” and instead of thanking her, the ungrateful bitch responded, “Uhh, well, it’s the same colour as yours…”  Fuck that shit.  I didn’t say that to Allison when she complimented my hair colour and our hair is pretty much the same.  I thanked her wholeheartedly and I really did appreciate it.  See, that attitude comes when you get too many insincere compliments from snobs.  You get ungrateful and you forget how to differentiate between insincere scene kids and real people.  Oh, and even though I’m short and Ali is thin, I think that scene bitch thought that Ali and I were Amazon women come from South America to kidnap her and eat her for dinner.  Because she was less than 5 feet tall and she was a full grown poodle.



MUZAK AND SUCH

The weather was perfect.

We rode squished in the back seat of Carol’s car to the park.  Not that the park is not within walking distance.  Just, it would be convenient to bring Carol’s car and have a ride.  You know.  We played frisbee.  By the time we were all panting from trying to catch and throw with a perfect wrist snap, every last one of us was thirsty.  And there were seven of us.

Zelda’s was right there, but Katie pointed out that Zelda’s also has new employees “every day.”  This is actually true.  Plus, Zelda’s is inferior to Cherry Alley.  It’s simple.  We walked the extra blocks to the clearly superior café, and those of us without money ordered cups of water.  For some reason, don’t ask me why, I always feel guilty when I order water from a café or restaurant, especially if I’m not ordering anything else.  I should just wear a sign around my neck whenever I plan on eating somewhere.  “Hi, I’m a cheap bastard.”  But I really do love Cherry Alley.  I really do spend most of my time and money there.  And they really do play superior music.  They are superior.

We sweated it out at a table meant for four, and trekked back to the park for more frisbee.  Aulden went home and we continued to play frisbee.  Paige and Tim left, and we played more frisbee.  And then Carol drove the remaining three of us home.

The rest of the evening was humble.  I worked out for a fairly long time.  I watched television, made pasta, and here I am.  Simple.

Here is one thing that bothers me.

I constantly tell you that I listened to Bright Eyes because Erika urged me.  I will remember that day for the rest of my life.  The first album I listened to.  The first song, even.  The sun in my room.  That red plastic swivel chair from Ikea.  It was a profound experience that allowed me to branch out my musical tastes.  It started with other artists on Saddle Creek.  Then I used Amazon as my tool to new artists.  I found the Arcade Fire there and fell in love from the first time I listened to “Neighborhood #1.”  And when I say love, I mean love.  Erika gave me the hint about Rilo Kiley with the Saddle Creek 50 album, and I remember becoming addicted.  I added the two Rilo Kiley songs, “With Arms Outstretched” and “Jenny You’re Barely Alive,” to my poserpod.  And I was in the car with my mother on a sunny afternoon.  We were on our way back home from the Food Lion in Goochland.  I listened to those two songs in succession, and it made the afternoon seem infinite.  There is no better way to describe something epic.  Infinite.

Jared and Jordan noticed that I have a story about every song or artist or album I have ever been intimately connected with.  I even have stories about Motion City Soundtrack and Relient K and Switchfoot.  Avril Lavigne.  Yes, I loved them.  I don’t anymore, but whenever I find people who like them, I just think…there’s hope in this world.  They might branch out like I did.  Maybe they will have a friend with the decency to introduce them to Bright Eyes.  That friend will give them the right album, and they will listen to the right song first.  Maybe.

So you get it now.  I’m in love with music.

I’ve offered a million times to make Rachael a mix CD.  She hears my music loud and clear in the house every day.  My experiments.  New songs.  I told her years ago to borrow my Sufjan Stevens albums and become acquainted.  She would like them.  “Chicago” is pretty mainstream, especially because of Little Miss Sunshine.  Of course, she doesn’t listen.  But then she gets a whole slew of new friends who are casual listeners.  And she gets an iPod.  And she wants to fit in.  So she abuses the privilege.  And now what do I hear pouring out of her iPod?  Two Sufjan Stevens songs.  One M.I.A. song.  Three Shins songs.  ONE Arcade Fire song.  Two Eisley songs.  Maybe five Beatles songs tops.  Oh, and you can’t forget Tegan and Sara because she has three of their songs.

It’s okay that she listens to good music now.  In fact, it’s great.  But if it’s so casual that she won’t explore any songs that aren’t “popular,” ones that her friends won’t listen to by chance–so casual that she won’t be compelled to look into the artists and similar artists and other songs and new genres–what’s the point?!  It defeats the entire purpose of enjoying music and thinking for your goddamn self.  In fact, her friends get their music from boys.  Boys who get their music from probably skate videos and good movies.  So even her friends who encourage her to branch out a little aren’t original.  It’s all passed down.  But don’t you think it would be fun to be the trendsetter for a change?

And granted, I find my music with the help of lovely blogs and lovely friends and movies and such.  But that doesn’t mean I don’t branch out on my own sometimes using the resources I’m given like Amazon and Last.fm.  I guess we all have to piggyback a little, but when someone doesn’t appreciate what they’re given or takes it for granted or turns her nose up at it until it is popular, I get extremely pissed.