t.a.h. gave me the good news this morning.
ladies and gents, my childhood idol is being inducted into the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame for 2006.
go, debbie!!!!!!
(and clem and chris and nigel and jimmy and those other guys)
can i just say this album defined my happy like as a kid:
wait - does this mean i am old?
here's what i want: daniel ash and paul hewson (sp?) to be in the same room together so i know for certain once and for all that they are not split personalities of the same person... am i the only one who thinks they look separated at birth?
here's what i am not feeling in light of my impending nuptials: relief that i won't grow old alone, the tick of my biological clock, that my life will now be validated
and here are a few things i am feeling: excited, overwhelmed, incredibly loved - by not my fiance alone
here's what bewilders me: someone - and if you are reading this blog, be assured i do not refer to you - it has come to my attention has set into panic over my getting married before them because i am younger. it ain't a race, ladies. did i mention that marriage is not necessary to validate one's life?
here's why i decided i should get married: because i want to. plain, simple. i can't think of anything better than spending the rest of my/ilya's natural days in his company and warmth - and getting a tax break to boot!
here's where i would rather be than at work tomorrow: starts with a scot, ends with land.
here's where i would rather be at work than: or-lan-do
here's an album i forgot how much i loved until i heard the artist in a south georgia mcdonald's yesterday: resigned by michael penn. a fine composition indeed.
here's what i think peter murphy is looking like these days: a child conceived by anton levy and my friend havens... if you can even conceive of such an idea
clearly sometimes i refuse to believe that i am a total grownup and have to act like a total college student.
especially when a rock band is involved.
especially if that band's bassist has hugged me outside an airport i almost got lost getting him to... alas...
wish d and i luck as we emabrk on our haskins-fest 2005 this weekend, driving 8 hours to orlando for some food with his favorite aunt and some quality time with these guys -
ladies and gentlemen, i am pleased to present my newly doctoral-thesis-defended-and-approved love... dr. ilya.
(watching a man in a suit speak math for an hour has never been so damned HOT!)
let it be known that bono uses a teleprompter.
give me an excuse to spend too much money on other people and i'll jump at it. i may not be the world's biggest christian - or much of one at all really - but damn i love christmas.
marked off the list:
a kilt
an army surplus messenger bag
a night at the theatre
pink and blue sequinny get-ups
consent to be someone's wife
knit cardigan w/ faux fur
on my list:
a tshirt proclaiming my love of all things supergrass (especially the greatest band logo ever - see below)
theatre tickets theatre tickets theatre tickets
movie gift certificates
a happy marriage good for the rest of my natural days
(i am not obsessed - honest!)
i would also like this opportunity to say that in the cultural wasteland that atlanta can sometimes seem to be, IMAGE Film and Video (who produce film festivals) are doing a kick ass job of compensating for the city's shortcomings....
Sophomore year of college i attended my first Out on Film, the ATL?s gay and lesbian film festival. And it was there I got a crash course education. Stop me (oh oh oh stop me) if you?ve heard this one? or were a part of it?
A Saturday night spent in the company of three of my then favorite boys (one has since vanished from my surroundings, not sure to where) was to involve dinner and a short stroll through the park, book ended by two films. The first - and the name escapes me much to my chagrin (Prodigal Sons? Setting Sons?) - was a lovely film about acceptance and family and bi-racial love. It was indeed the type of film that keeps me coming to film festivals, as I never would have had the opportunity to see it elsewhere, or even have known it existed for that matter?
However, I made the naïve assumption the second screening might be along those same lines. Uh, no. Not quite.
Perhaps it was the fact that I was the only female in the room that shoulda clued me in, but alas, I didn?t quite catch on until the cockrings came out (and out, and out?) On the screen!!! Get your minds out of the gutter, people!
Yep, it was my first gay porn experience. In a movie theatre surrounded by hundreds of boys who probably saw me sitting there before the house lights were cut thinking, ?I bet she doesn?t have any idea what she?s in for? snicker snicker??
Cheeks flushed a little, but I decided best to see it as an educational experience. I took the opportunity to lean over to one of my companions periodically (you remember this right? I know you?re reading this) and make inquiries:
Ok ? now what exactly is the bonus of a cockring?
So, do you guys have a name for that?
Wow ? how did he do that? Do you think that would work on @!*?
I think I have told this story here before. However, last night, volunteering at this year?s Out on Film, I learned something new. A friend and I were checking out a documentary on renowned gay icon/ porn star/filmmaker Peter Berlin. Interviewed was another renowned filmmaker from the same era (early 70?s) by the name of Wakefield Poole who made the classic Boys in the Sand.
Apparently my first gay porn is a part of the cannon of gay porn. Who knew?
Now we do.
i am not a pedophile.
i just think he's pretty.
i want to look longingly at his precious face the way the rest of you used to do with your teen beat pinups of the wahlbergs and those other new dorks on the block... plant big wet ones on his adorable little cheeks.
i have never had a single sexual thought about the poor boy.
but i can't promise i won't by the time book 7 comes out on film.
bigger's not older, fine. but the thought of a 4-story ron weasley still makes me giddy like a 12-year-old.
i still heart rupert grint.
super furry animals...if they come to your town, you must not miss them
they make me proud to be welsh (kind of)
(kind of welsh, not kind of proud)
further observations:
every time i see a Pontiac sunfire, it has a huge dent somewhere
i completely cannot comprehend how anyone cannot believe that your sexual orientation is determined by nature and not by choice... or can believe in what is it? intelligent design? is that what they are calling it? reference
heresometimes russian seems an awful lot like spanish
i have huge body image issues
snickers do not, in fact, really satisfy. they only perpetuate the need for themselves
in 7 weeks i will be somebody's mrs.
welsh heritage sometimes feels like being part of a secret society
and ssmething else, but i forgot...
columbia moment: a point in time that appears to have willingly fallen into synch with atmospheric noise.
orig: this very morning when the song columbia by oasis possessed heidi's being and she felt herself moving to the exact beat and forgetting everything else around her.
antonym: paranoid android moment (similar occurrence without will involved)
and yet it kind of was an android moment if you think about the lyrics:
"i can't tell you the way i feel be-cause the way i feel is oh so new to me"
side note: a very sweet soul surprised me with a copy of Robert Freeman's photography book The Beatles this morning at work. it was such a sweet gesture i felt the tears well up.
sometimes my faith in humanity receives small renovations.
further adventures... this is just getting silly
on a mission yesterday, i began to peruse the ole internet for details about traffic laws as they pertain to cyclists. the only thing i could find was a law that they must keep as far to the right as possible when in the path of flowing traffic.
returning home last night, at the same traffic circle, i was met with a posse of reflector-bearers.
all riding in threes so as to cover as much of the lane as possible, clearly intent to defy the line of headlights behind them.
isn't entitlement precious?
i promise i am not bitching... i really am curious about this. because i try to be a good citizen, an informed person... but sometimes (read: often) that is frustrating.
is it "same road, same rules" or "same road, same rules when it's convenient for the guy on the bike?"
i am all for cyclists. do not misunderstand me. i am a train-taker and advocate anything that puts less junk in the air. i also advocate allowing them street space and keeping them off the sidewalks. being slowed down is a small price to pay as long as that's one less gas guzzler depleting our ever-dwindling supply of energy. and let's face it, pretty soon we might all be on 'em.
but by same rules, i understand the meaning to imply things like obeying yield signs and stopping at red lights, giving pedestrians the right of way and using turn signals, not pulling out in front of flowing traffic...
i say all of this because i almost hit a cyclist this morning. a traffic circle sits in the midst of my driving route (i have to move furniture this evening and was thus forced to drive this morning).
i yielded where i was suppose to and saw a biker approaching from my left. yet i assumed he would also heed the sign on his side and so i began to continue on, only to have him dart right into the circle and my direct path.
a mini heart attack ensued.
did i assume something wrong?
or are there just as many assholes on bikes as there are in SUVs?
i welcome comments on this. really. i mean it.
because if i am wrong, i am sure i sound like an ass.
sorry, that sounded like bitching. for a lighter side of me, read
here.
the soundtrack of my sunday (morning)...
sunday is my monday. often this thought induces sighs of pity from my acquaintances/friends for my benefit. but it shouldn't. rest assured i would have it no other way.
(as i gather myself together and head out the door)
all of you pretty girls as rendered by crash test dummies
from A Testimonial Dinner: A Tribute to XTC - a cd j and grabbed for 3 pound in bath
bath where my best friend is right now!
sunday may be my monday, but my that makes thursday my friday. we weekend is still a weekend, and what's more i have all afternoon friday while the other corporate serfs are still tucked safely in their cubicles to get my errands done crowd-free and enjoy matinee cinema prices.
(confronted by amazing early fall weather on this mid-fall morning walk to the station)we become silhouettes as rendered by the shinsfrom the m.o.t.d.... crap-i-can't-remember-the-whole-sequence mix cd that this one made for me ages ago
better than the original i think (blasphemy! some might say)
extra added bonus: sunday's a short day for us. we open two hours later, but still get set free at the same ole 5pm.(again with the pedestrian-hating. this time a guy in a big red work truck. que serra)letter from an occupant by the new pornographers
also from a mix from a friend
it was stuck in my head all friday
hee... i almost wore my dirty panda shirt today
anyway, not to make this one of those posts about my ipod, but ultimately this is gonna be a post about my ipod.
(rounding the corner to hit madison ave, almost in the home stretch of my trek, wondering, "wait - should i be walking with or against traffic?")
those crimson tears by the ever-underrated ed harcourt
i bought here be monsters two years ago at the little 5 halloween fest... and yet i feel i am hearing this song for the first time
i am hooked on the ipod's shuffle function, but as of late i have getting a bit miffed. see, every time the battery is exhausted the random generator starts all over. so if before i made it 212 songs into a list of 675, i am now going to hear a good 150 of those same tracks when i start it again...(starting to break a sweat finally, wishing i'd filled my water bottle)
have you forgotten? by red house painters
from songs for a blue guitar which played incessantly for three months in my office at that theatre on elizabeth street until i got that george harrison album for christmas yesterday i was determined to get the new supergrass album loaded on. inspiration struck and i then proceeded to spend the next 2.5 hours completely remodeling my song list.
(amazed at how empty the train station feels, even for a sunday at 10am... i don't even see any attendants)
don't show me heaven by jason falkner
i love you, mr. falkner. through jellyfish to this author unknown album through to the beatles lullaby albums i sleep to when i am forced to sleep alone - wait - tangent - sorry. can i please tell you how excited i was on friday afternoon when i got to criminal to purchase aforementioned
road to rouen and was met with the gaze of an adorable boy at the counter on whom my smile had unwittingly done it magic. i am kinda cute, i admit that. but i never think of myself as some striking beauty queen or anything. so it feels really good to look up and see a look of clear adoration/attraction like that. makes a girl feel pretty. thank you, mr record store clerk.
(realizing i will have plenty of time to contemplate the odd juxtaposition of the cold feel of concrete and weird urine smell with the too-loud classical music that the station's atmosphere offers this morning)
somewhere else by travis
from 12 memories
"hear a song and sing along, but what does it bring?"
back to my point - i went on a mission to eliminate as many of those 150 that keep repeating as possible, no matter how much i love their composers. "the legionnaire's lament" GONE. "get balsamic vinegar!" GONE. even the fab four held no exemption. "wait" "here there and everywhere" "dr. robert" GONE GONE GONE.
(maybe if i read my book the time would pass faster, but who wants to be depressed by Rabbit Angstrom on such a beautiful day if they can avoid it?)
big mouth strike again as rendered by placebo
from the covers album... poor becca the night this finally arrived in my hands... and our poor neighbors
i made room for suede and the lucksmiths. i renovated my blur list. i forced myself to trim arab strap down to 10 measley songs.
(more waiting, getting chillier)
what you do to me - teenage fan club
lowell, MA - death cab
a night like this - the cure
it was the first real quality time i had spent with itunes in our 2 months together so far. still didn't get around to fixing things like it's seemingly arbitrary genre assignments (ex: franz ferninand as "classic rock" and xtc as "polka") or rating the new listings, but i felt better acquainted with my abbey when all was said and done.
(rummaging about my paratrooper bag for my notebook to crudely start this very post)
bedshaped by keane
this was one of those 150 the pod kept repeating before my mass overhaul yesterday
this morning, of course, was the moment of truth.
(transfer point)
song for a blue guitar by red house painters
i am convinced my this player loves mark kozelek maybe even more than i do
a mile walk ahead of me and who knows how many minutes to pass in transit. my policy being that i do not remove my player from my bag anywhere throughout the journey if i can help it. even if it's just a cheapo 4G mini, i still don't like to advertise. those stupid white earphones do that well enough on their own...
(more waiting, but this time in an atmosphere of dull 70's era orange and a constant repetition of announcements about single-tracking, the airport, and you)catwalk by beat happening (from njg's hipster bingo mix)late in the day by these guys who may look familiar so once it's going there's no escaping the will of the shuffle generator.
(my good day takes its first dark turn as a woman pushes me out of her way that she might beat we other passengers to a seat by getting on before anyone has had a chance to get off... "hey, lady. how about letting them off first?" i sounded like an old construction worker... sheesh)
every planet we reach is dead - gorillaz
to learn that my time and energy were not spent in vain... to have my sunday morning routine soundtracked by a playlist that only made me smile - kind of - was a relief and a joy.
(an overwhelming lethargy hits me and i can feel the movement of the train trying to lull me into a REM state)
apology song by the decemberists
just as i spot a guy with a bike at the other end of the car
and my love of my ipod was rejuvenated.
(resuming travels on foot)
how to be dead by snow patrol
remember when this blog was like a gary lightbody fansite? i am totally remembering why...
as nik says... it speaks to me. and clearly it was saying it was tired of those old tunes too.
walking from station to work/work to station to day i was almost run over 4 times.
this trek is maybe half a mile each way.
all 4 times i was in the crosswalk.
all 4 times i was in the crosswalk while the signal showed a white familiar stick figure, the universal sign for "OK TO CROSS."
so here's my question.... do drivers just want to hit those of us on foot because they feel we "entitled pedestrians" are self-righteously mocking them with our walking?
i am just curious...
next time: the question of letting people out of train cars and/or elevators before getting on yourself... too much like rocket science?
