June 2009
37 posts
Custom customers.
Okay, yeah. At the record store we certainly get our fair share of local “eccentrics.” I mean- fuck, aren’t most music-fiends just that? But today proved to be slightly more interesting that an average afternoon boarded up in that tune-drenched bat cave.
A tall, tan man in a long-sleeve shirt came into the shop around 11:30 this morning when Jeff left me to get some coffee....
May 2009
23 posts
Consumption: courtesy of ArtVoice.com
Bail out the planet, not the bankers
Over a century ago we used the term “consumption” to refer to tuberculosis, because it consumed its victims. Today the term is more commonly applied to our consumer-based culture—an entity we’re learning is far more deadly than tuberculosis. Our culture of consumption doesn’t simply kill its unwitting victims, happy in their materialist orgy. It kills off...
Woody Allen, American Apparel settle for $5M...
from the AP wire
updated 5:18 p.m. ET, Mon., May 18, 2009
NEW YORK - Woody Allen agreed Monday to a $5 million settlement in his lawsuit accusing American Apparel of using an image parodying him as a rabbi without his permission.
Both sides announced the settlement — to be paid by American Apparel Inc.’s insurance company — on the morning a trial was to start in federal court in...
Tumbalrity
Or is it tumblrity? I have no idea. Whatever it is, I’m ranked at a big, fat zero. Haha.
Llueve.
All this water is just solidifying how unhappy I’d be if I did end up relocating to the Pacific Northwest. I can’t wait until our NC/SC roadtrip in August!
Harry Belafonte on the Muppets Show in 1978. →
Freudian misreading?
I just read from a handwritten sticky-note “Tampa” as “Tampon.” I guess it might be a little accurate.
Probably far less far-reaching than Facebook...
But nonetheless:
Are you looking for somewhere to live? Hope so, because due to money sucking, I’m going to have to move out of my room in Beach Villas. Robb, my new roommate, just completed moving in and would need someone to take my place to split the rent with.
It’s the master bedroom, which has its own bathroom and sliding glass door to the front porch - so there is a lot of...
Addition.
My top five artists of last week, not according to last.fm, just according to my head:
(in no particular order)
1) Fountains of Wayne (“Utopia Parkway” is an entirely pertinent album this time of year)
2) Ridiculous Nick (kid from Orlando who played in the shop twice recently, a grad from D.A. and a total hip-hop badass)
3) The Thermals
4) Harry Belafonte
5) Grand Puba
Had to...
Chompers.
I just scheduled my first dentist appointment in two years for next week. Can’t wait to have my pearlies carved back into a correct existence. I better start flossing again in the meantime…
Bogs.
Also,
I hate you. Sloshing in my belly. You better be killing this UTI. Better be.
Crumpled quilts.
I hate whenever I go against my immediate, gut - albeit shallow - feeling on a somewhat large decision, and then the implementation of my second, optimistic - albeit not necessarily well thought-out - decision hints at failure.
And then I wake up at 4 a.m., hopeless to return to slumber.
Pantera left a frog corpse in the path to my bathroom. A small, brown, utterly helpless tree frog.
I...
Epiphany.
Only now, days after the intital clothes drive by the rain-soaked picnic area at my apartment complex, when I am sifting through my own dresser and closet, do I realize that the bulk of my wardrobe is in my possession because of sentimentality. A Bright Eyes shirt from the show in Orlando when I was 16. My dad’s high school band T-shirt. An oversized Auburn tee from my first boyfriend. This...
Confession.
During finals week, I was chugging along at what I can confidently label “my most goddamned studious” pace ever. I was getting refrigerated at the library for 12-15 hour intervals, growing minimal callouses on the pads of my fingertips from profuse typing and acclimating to a steady routine of minimum food consumption (mostly soy nuts) and maximum caffiene/focus helper consumption. I...
Mudvayne fans.
I just failed at explaining the concept of an album as a complete collection of songs recorded by a band to a squirrely man in search of a mundane dittie by a group with “mud” in their title.
His mouth just hung open when I next described how LP stood for “long playing.” And that meant a waxy round cut-out that once placed upon a revolving plate, a needle is hooked into...
