sentimental geek

currently watching: American Masters: Annie Leibowitz. She is amazing.

currently loving: solitude, the thought of sleep, Spoon’s ‘Gimmie Fiction’.

currently wishing: I lived in the 60’s, had a little more money, was somewhere warm and beautiful that smells like incense and flowers

currently feeling: poor, anxious for my tax return, nervous about money

Almost finished with ‘Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim’. Looking to read Prime Green: Remembering the Sixties by Robert Stone, maybe some stuff by Tom Wolff.

I’m what you might call a music snob or…music elitist. I listen to stuff that I think is good, disregard the standard poppy/rappy crap and voice my musical opinion to whoever listens. I have strong opinions about Madonna’s last album and her albums before that. I have issues with Coldplay’s latest album, to whom I feel betrayed. It’s good to have an opinion about SOMETHING, my 8th grade English teacher told me during a debate portion of our class. To have an opinion meant you had a brain, with thoughts in it. My father, while I was working on my index cards for my Pro-Life side of our debate the next day, said I was too young to have an opinion, that I hadn’t had enough experience to have anything to say about anything. That’s stuck with me since. So if I have an opinion, or if something rocks, or sucks, I tell you. Because I have an opinion. You don’t have to listen, but I’m going to tell you what I think.

And here’s the what. I have become increasingly aware over the past, well, three years that there are bands out there that basically exist under the horizon line, never bobbing up onto the the surface, happy blowing bubbles under the water of near-obscurity.

I like these bands. I like the indie-don’t-give-shit-we’ll-put-out-our-own-record-and-tour-in-my-mom’s-van attitude. I want to keep them in my pocket. I want them to stay small and not want to get famous and tour tiny little venues and shhh…just don’t go on TRL, promise. And when they do get big, I kind of back away going “Who the HELL are you?” Ah, Coldplay. They broke my heart. They could’ve been SMALL, I tell you! They could’ve just remained on that slow-mo, out of focus Yellow beach forever. Ok, Rush of Blood to Head kicked ASS. But that started their rapid, steady decline into Crapdom. They could’ve been great.

But I digress…

I think this is why I like Wilco, Spoon, Neko Case and some others so much. Wilco has existed for SO long and they’ve only had one “major” hit, which was ‘Box Full of Letters’ which hit the charts when I was effing high school, for Christ’s sake. These bands seem to exist in my head, my own private orchestra, full of emotion and hidden meaning. Listening makes me feel better. It makes me think and dance and write and sing. I feel lucky to have them, knowing I’ll NEVER have to make choice between listening to Fergie’s new album or that great new P Diddy single. God, it makes me want to put my head through a plate glass window, it really does. It’s almost unbearable. Ugh.

Music is important to me. It’s a tangible memory. It’s a memory I can listen to.

Playlist from this evening (as you can see, the Zune shuffle can be a bit weird)
Mer Girl, Madonna
29, Ryan Adams
Believe, Gus Gus
Polybackwards, Gus Gus
Nature is the Law, Richard Ashcroft
Small Stakes, Spoon
The Two Sides of Monsieur Valentine, Spoon (“Every morning, I’ve got a new chance.”)
They’re Winning, the Walkmen
Kicking Television (live), Wilco
Blues Die Hard, Uncle Tupelo
Year of Our Lord, Sufjan Stevens
Heaven, the Talking Heads
My Mathematical Mind, Spoon (possibly one of my favorite songs…Britt Daniel has one of the voices, man.)
Death of a Disco Dancer, the Smiths
God Put a Smile Upon Your Face, Coldplay
Love is the New Feel Awful, the Dandy Warhols

I’m watching a brilliant documentary on IFC right now called “Punk: Attitude”. I really enjoy watching documentaries and I love listening to people with something to say. It’s about the underground punk scene in the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s. They’ve got Chrissie Hynde and Henry Rollins yacking about the punk scene. It’s very special. If you’re into it, it’s on again this afternoon. I love Henry Rollins. He’s not afraid to say exactly what he means.

I LOVE IFC. I love their stuff, I love the movies they play. It’s like PBS with a middle finger. There’s a new movie coming out, done in the style of 1940’s film noir called “The Good German”. It’s going to be Cate Blanchett’s year, I think. I hope it comes to the Colonial.

It’s a dark, rainy New Year’s day. I’ve got to go to my parents to do laundry at some point. Ugh. My brain is all foggy. I’m getting old.

Good morning. It’s 6AM and I’ve been up since about 4:30. I’m not sure why exactly. I had a leetle too much margarita last night so I’m not totally sure what time I went to bed. I’m not usually a morning person either but I got bored just lying here so I got up, had some cereal and 13 gallons of water and surfed the web a bit.

I’m looking to make a BIG purchase in 2007–a Nikon d50 camera. It’s something that I really want and really think that I’ll use so I’ve made my mind up. I would really like to take a photography class and learn more and get better because I truly, truly enjoy it. I’ve done a lot of reading and comparisons online so I feel I know what I’m doing and know what I’m getting. I’ve looked at the d70 but it almost looks like too much camera and I’m afraid if I’m intimidated by it, I won’t use it. I know that I could probably stash that cash in the bank or something but it’s my money and I’ll do what I want with it. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that I’ll have enough from my tax return because, if not, I’m staying with my Canon.

My sister is a big fan of Hunter S. Thompson. She’s read all his books. I can’t get into them. I wish I could. They just released a book of his photos which I wanted to get my sister for her birthday–but it’s $300. You can see some of the pictures here.

The thing I love about photography is that it freezes a moment in time. Any time photos are recovered that are old and contain moments we’ve forgotten is so completely awesome.

Ah, the ins and outs of new technology.

I asked for a Zune for Christmas this year. I’m “anti” iPod…meaning I don’t see the point of iTunes. I stopped buying CDs years ago, relying on the disease ridden whore of the internet, Limewire, for my music. I understand that artists want to get paid but honestly–aren’t they getting paid enough? I pay $15 a month and get unlimited downloads. I’ve downloaded 78 albums in the last two days…with an average of 10 songs per album, that almost 800 songs. For $15. Hello? Am I the only one scratching my head?

Yes, I know Microsoft is an evil, heartless empire–but so is America. I mean, c’mon. It’s all the same money, people. And yes, as backrubby, pallyaroundy Apple is, they’re catering to the same market, with the same promises. They’re just doing it better than Microsoft. They’ve managed to convince the world that the world NEEDS iPod. I guess I would feel differently if I had an enormous CD collection but thanks to an old friend, most of collection was stolen out of the back of a car a few years ago. And anyway, tastes change. Why must I got out and buy a CD if I want an album? CDs are a dead technology. They’ll be like VHS in a year or two. And why should I have to pay full price? Music should be free…or at the very least, rented for a monthly fee.

Please. Stop paying these people too much money. Maybe if we stop paying her so much Britney Spears won’t be able to afford another kid professionally OR financially. The more kids she spits out the longer we’re going to have to read about them in the press. Britney is the new Elvis, anyway. There’s young Britney and now there’s Fat Britney. Pretty soon she’ll slip in the bathroom and pass out between the toliet and the tub and we’ll be voting for which postal stamp we want.

Which is why I’m against iPods.

It’s all Britney’s fault.

picture from Gallery of the Absurd

I’ve been reading my horoscope and it seems very promising. But isn’t that the point of horoscopes? You’ll never find one that says “Today you’ll step in dog poo.” or “You’re going to be hit by a mail truck in March.” But regardless, I’m on my 12 year switcheroo. I’m a little weirded out by what may happen.

From FreeWill Astrology:

Happy Holy Daze, Sagittarius! My gift for you is the following oracle: A breakthrough you were blessed with in 1995 will be coming back around in 2007. How? Three possible ways: (1) You’ll be inspired to make changes to whatever sprung from that original breakthrough 12 years ago. (2) You’ll be visited by a new version of that breakthrough, on a higher octave this time. (3) You’ll attempt a quantum leap that resembles the original, but happens in a different area of your life.

I’ve been trying to figure out what happened to me in 1995 but thanks to ganj and nonstick cookware, it took me a while to figure out that in 1995 I was 15. What the fuck was I doing when I was 15? What were YOU doing in 1995? What does it mean?

Watching Tsunami: the Aftermath.

It’s so fucked up.

10 Best Things That Happened to You This Year

1. MOVED OUT OF MANCHESTER. I actually could just leave that and be done. Best. Decision. Ever.
2. Went to Japan with Nickolas. Absolutely fucking amazing.
3. Reconnected with Dani and her family.
4. Faced the music financially and finally started paying that piper.
5. Got my own apartment finally.
6. Had a redneck hillbilly mechanic break my SIRIUS antennae, fought with Radioshack and got a new antennae and a new camera.
7. Arlo.
8. Got over my fear of flying (for now).
9. Got some help to start feeling normal.
10. Saw Wilco TWICE.

I’m told that this is a common feeling this year, but I don’t feel very Christmas-y. There’s no snow. I have no tree, which is not entirely the problem since I haven’t had a tree in three years. I have a little itty bitty tree on my TV that can stay there until the Fourth of July for all I care–I hardly notice it. And other than the obnoxious lights on the doublewide up the road, I don’t think I would know it was Christmas except for this sudden, palatable urge the strikes me every so often.

Presents?

It is true. I have little to no money for presents this year. It bums me out a little because, unfortunately, I know that sometimes people expect gifts. I just don’t have the cash. I’m baking loaves of yummy bread to give away with jars of homemade peach jam. I’m buying into the materialistic side of the holiday because I’ve never done this before–made my own gifts. Why do I feel like it’s a cop out?

In the days of my youth…scratch that. When I was young and stupid, I would have blown half my rent and the rest of my bill money on extravagant gifts for my friends and family. And I would buy for everybody. I would buy for people who weren’t close friends. I would just, y’know, pick something up. Did it make them like me any better? I can honestly say, for all the random Christmas shoppery in my past, I doubt I can count one person who I last-minute-guilt-gifted as a near and dear.

I know that this is silly, materialistic and pointless talk. Christmas is, of course, about family and friends and reflection. For me, it means going to Christmas Eve services with my family and playing hangman with my sister and laughing about how my brother sings the hymns. We are an embarrassing lot, us Children. We snicker and make faces and roll our eyes and our grandmother just smiles and offers us stale gum from the bottom of her purse. After the services, we duck out and go up to my grandmother’s house, where there’s a cache of food and the Christmas Story to watch and younger cousins to laugh at.

It’s the same every year.

But this year, it’s like all the spirit and fun just got sucked out. Seattle has, begrudgingly, gotten all of our snow. I dislike winter, but I dislike it even more when the convenient white cover is stripped away, allowing us to see and smell the rotting world around us. Usually, the snow takes away the smell of composting leaves but without it, the world smells putrid. I’m not asking for a lot of snow. Just enough to make things pretty. And smell better.

Oh, PBS. Can it be true? Is the endless nuclear winter of fundraising finally dawning into a education-filled spring?

They’re playing ‘Antiques Roadshow’. I almost cried. I watch it and say “It’s just a box! Are you nuts!” I’ve missed the normal programming. I’ve been flipping around. I should be reading before I slip into early Alzheimer’s. However, I do enjoy when people find out that a bunch of kids in China made their mahogany sideboard that their dear old grandma had told them came over on the Mayflower when in actuality she bought it at Ames, and that they might as well chop it up and sell it for firewood. I know, it’s a sadisic pleasure. There’s a ‘Will and Grace’ about that. The teapot episode. I also hate when they say “Are you sure?” to the snooty appraisers, like they’re on Candid Camera and not a respectable show like ‘Antiques Roadshow’.

I’ve been trying to decide where I should go next year. I think somewhere in Asia again. Possibly Vietnam. Any thoughts?