Stir-Fry, Winter Melon Soup, and The Swell Maps: What I Use to Medicate Frustration.

I feel a little old. I just ate “dinner” at five in the afternoon, which for some reason as has signaled to me the sign of old age . . . early dinners, long naps, waking up at five in the morning to grab the newspaper. At least I still feel sprite. I have to give my defense tomorrow to be accepted into the “grant money program” for my doctoral research . . . otherwise, no France over the summer . . . and it would be such a shame for me to throw in the cards now after I’ve put so much time into perfecting my French (total lie).

Anyways the dinner was fabulous! As mentioned earlier I started out making a winter melon soup . . . I thought that that would be filling enough and end that gnawing hankering I was having for Chinese cuisine. I ended supporting that with some stir-fry . . . which turned out quite nicely. 

Onto the purpose of this article, I pulled out the Swell Maps a couple weeks ago. They’re one of those British rock bands from the 1970’s . . . and fittingly enough were influenced by other groups like Can (see prior post).  They’re basically you’re fitting punk rock group . . . that you bop along to when you’re in need of one of those uplifting kind of beats that’s not too intense . . . but at the same time has enough push to get everything moving. When I was still in high school I would, pop the Swell Maps on after those painful days in the public school education system . . . now I pop the Swell Maps on after those painful days . . . at work, when I’m expected to complete piles of paper and readings and research and well, everything else.

My brother was a huge fan . . . he’s into that kind of stuff though . . . you know, the whole punk mainstream thing. Which in being, seems kind of . . . against his . . . docile, mellow nature, but I suppose he surprise the most of us with his quirky kind of tastes. Hmmm . . . I suppose I should write some more . . . describe more, but I haven’t really any more words in me. 

Hmmm, come to think of it . . . I could use a little bit of The Swell Maps right now, to loosen up a little bit. I’ll post more later, when I feel a bit less strained. 

Summer, Sunscreen, and the Joys of Can: Why I Spent My Summer Holidays Running Extension Cords Across the Lawn.

As promised I’m going to start posting all these writings that I’ve been storing up for the past months. Here goes:

I’m going to start out with the music of my childhood, Can. Not going to lie, Tago Mago was the first album I ever bought . . . I remember being thirteen and my brother giving me fifteen dollars to go buy myself something nice. I came back with Can. Not going to lie I don’t remember much else about the incident, other than that I spent the rest of the summer with the music on loud, running the player from a series of extension cords going through the window of my bedroom, the roses in the garden outside, into the lawn, and past it into the fallow field that lie

 beyond our house. There I could run, dig, pretend, burn the skin on my shoulder and back while still listening to those beated, semi-psychedelic tones.

I guess the entire push of this article is that Can is the music of summer, the summer of children, when running and playing is all one can ever think about. It’s reminiscent of the smell of sunscreen applied in liberal amounts because everyday you have to deal with parents ranting about how “Skin Cancer Kills!” and reminds a person of skinned knees, fresh strawberries and cut watermelon. I suppose this musing, about how Can makes me feel and the setting in which it should be listened, might be only due my close tie to it and narrow mindedness to branch out my listening to other situations.

Whichever, I think I’m going to slice up some winter melon . . . I’m making a winter melon soup for dinner, since it has gotten so chilly here as of late. Thankfully, I pulled my winter clothing out of storage in the closet last weekend . . . or I would have had to shuffle groggily this morning to find my gloves and coat (not that they helped . . . I forgot to go out and start the car earlier than normal, so I had to sit in it, freezing while it warmed up). 

An After Thought.

Oh, I've written up some . . . dribble . . . about the musicians on the electronica mix. I'll post it soon . . . not to mention, some writings on Can, Tortoise, and my favorite The Swell Maps. 

Recap: Life.

I haven't slept in 38 hours. John tells me this is probably a . . . bad thing? I keep telling myself that I'm too . . . wired to sleep . . . too on edge to drift off into that foggy slumber. The even weirder half of this whole ordeal (other than myself trying to stay awake) is that I had an entire day full of meetings . . . boring, lackluster meetings since 7 in the morning and I felt no urge to drift off during any of them. There must be something wrong with my tea. 

In other news, I finished John's birthday electronica mix . . . and did away with the whole Swedish thing because I really wanted to include some Burial on is and well . . . that didn't fit with the theme. But I did get lots of The Knife, Johan Fotmeijer, Adam Beyer, Emmon . . . you know, the usual. Upon finishing, I started to think that maybe I had went . . . I don't know . . . a little overboard, but now, looking back I think it'll go over quite well.

Just Somthing Else I Don't Have Time For: Why I'm Writing This When I Should Be "Working."

I'm really tired. I've come to the realization that I do way too much in my life. I mean my schedule is quite . . . obscene really . . . and well, never ending. I spent the holidays (even though it was not like I was going to celebrate them anyways) dividing my time between work (even though I wasn't supposed to be working), committees, focus groups, volunteer fundraising, and on Sunday night I was able to throw in two hours of studying my French. For once, I just want to be able to sit down and not think about . . . anything. You know, have a cup of milk and some scone-like treat, while not having to devote my time to any one particular task. 

So, in spite of my obviously bad time management skills, I decided to throw into the mix, well . . . throwing a party for John's birthday next week. It's going to be one of those "Swedish-Electronica-Themed-Parties" (even though he's not Swedish) complete with punch and all the delicious goodies. I'm a little excited . . . because not only do I get to make "punch and all the delicious goodies" but I get to mix all this delightful electronica music . . . which is such a pleasure. It also gives me a reason to not worry about work and research and work and people and obligations . . . did I say work? 

I think I'm going to mix mainly some Hot Chip and well, whatever else. I've got to mull over my choices for awhile. 

Brown Bag Sack Lunches and the White Man Keeping the Red Man Down: What I've Been Surviving on for Weeks and Chewing on With My Thoughts.

I feel like I should've have written something between this post and my last, however, I haven't had the time . . . ah, yeah, I haven't had the time. Naturally, of course, I'm beginning to hate that little factoid about my life (the whole no time thing) but I'm dealing . . . yeah, dealing.  I'm sleeping finally, though . . . I don't know if you remember those long stints of two-hour sleeps I was going through earlier in the year but, those are over . . . and on another note, I'm getting to chow down on a lot of premade, John-approved, brown bag, sack lunches (woot).  In another note, I realize that I haven't yet posted the pictures of John and I in Alaska (too bad for you) but I will, eventually . . . whenever I have the thought to . . . yeah, I'll get to it. 

Anyways, I thought that I would post this to give the semblance that I'm not yet dead . . . and am going to be picking up on my mood music choices (since I've made a lot of progress on my playlist and have so much to write) and well . . . I don't know . . . maybe this year I'll write another diatribe about how the holiday Thanksgiving, is another silent reminder of how the white man is keeping the red man down . . . really, it's all about suppression, man. 

What's It Like To Not Be Busy?

I bet it's great . . . yeah, great. 

Haven't The Time, But Might As Well Write Something.

Ah, as I simply wrote in my last post three or four days ago, John and I are back from Alaska. We got back on Thursday from our fifteen day trip to the north. So, what can I say, other than that it was amazing! I haven't yet been able to upload all of the pictures, but when I do I'll post them. 

By the way, the state-long driving mixes, worked out perfectly! The timing was perfect and everything. I haven't much time to write anything else, but I'll finish type something up soon, and start to resume the mood music postings. 

Oh My! I'm Back From Alaska!

Oh My! I'm Back from Alaska!

The Flaming Lips: Now Onto The Conventional Stuff, i.e. Why I Love The Flaming Lips

The Flaming Lips. 

Favorite Song(s): Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Pts. 1 & 2 (obviously). 

Favorite Album(s): At War With The Mystics, Clouds Taste Metallic

Now onto the conventional stuff: Why I love the Flaming Lips. My number one reason for this beyond the obvious (and if you can't figure that out, you should stop reading and impale yourself . . . uh, yeah) is that the only thing separating Wayne Coyne and I at the concert here last year was a large plastic bubble (just repeat those last three words in your head . . . to get the full effect . . . and then precede down page for the visual interpetation). 

There's not much else I'm going to say, because I have to leave in a little bit and haven't the time to say more. So . . . search the internet if you're really into reading some drab tidbit about The Flaming Lips . . . I'm sure there are about a million of them out there. 

Sleater-Kinney: Why I've Written About Them Before And Why I'm Writing About Them Again.

Who doesn't love a band that's totally rocking the strong power women trio thing? That's the basis for my love of Sleater-Kinney . . . besides the fact that their music is totally kickin'. I know I have written about them before, so I'll spare you the benign tidbits of my devotion towards female power artists (by that I mean I love good music created strong female leads, who doesn't . . . wait, I know who, misogynists . . . sheesh). Instead, I am going to set the scene . . . as I do for all my music . . . relay the mood. I know this is going to sound REALLY stupid but this power trio makes great as street music . . . now, please let me explain before, one gets to thinking that I'm crazy for making a comparison between this and the music on the urban street scene. 

Picture it: It's sunny. A bright day, the first one in what might have been a week . . . it's August or something like that . . . whenever hurricane season is because the tropical weather has pushed rains your way, flooding the north with cloudy skies and thousands of climate-induced depressed people . . . This day, however, the sky is clear . . . you know, in one of those "the world is your oyster" kind of ways . . . if that makes sense. Anyways, the sky is clear . . . blue with little patches of clean puffy white clouds . . . and beams of sunlight seem to be emitting somewhere from around your head as you walk confident and secure (in some sense I suppose I could say that is because you just listen to The New Pornographers after the scandal (see earlier post for more info) and woke up today to meet the world fully). What are you playing on the headphones? Sleater-Kinney, duh! Those indie punk riot grrrl beats . . . totally make an impact of the first day of sunshine! 

I, of course, totally know about this one from experience. Whenever I go out for a walk . . . to the market or wherever . . . I set the mood with a little bit of this . . . you know it, a little "Heart Factory"  or "Dance Song '97" are the soundtracks to every walk outside (well, not every, because this only really includes city walking where sidewalk is included). 

The New Pornographers: Sing Me Spanish Techno As I Walk Through Streets Of Fire

With The New Pornographers I have the albums Mass Romantic, Twin Cinema, and Electric Version, but I must say that I am quite partial to Twin Cinema over the other two (if you can't get it from the title my two favorite songs of theirs are "Sing Me Spanish Techno" and "Streets of Fire"). I'm kind of stuck on where to place these guys through way of the mood situation. 

What I'm kind of feeling, I'm kind of unsure of, because most of what I say by way of creating mood for music is based of personal experience and trial (like when I say Camera Obscura is good for the shower, it's because I've listened to it in the shower and a whole lot of other places . . . but I get the optimal feeling from it when in the shower . . . it just you know, connects). However, I've not actually tried or experienced what I'm feeling now . . . I'm just feeling that this is what I would do if possible. But anyways here it goes . . . the sitsu:

It's about 7:00, and you're going out for a night on the town with this wonderful guy (this situation is better suited if you're a female) and you're liked expecting this night to be totally cool, you know cause you've been out in the past and it was like . . . awesome, total connection, you know. So you're going to meet up at the cafe down the street and then go out for one of those dusk lit picnics in the quaint garden/park across the way. Obviously it's May or late April . . . still spring, but it feels like everything's on the brink of summer, but not quite yet because you still have to wear a light jacket for the cool nighttime. Anyways, you're at the cafe to meet up. You've been waiting for 20 minutes . . . you wait some more . . . then 30 minutes into your wait, you see a familiar someone walking along the street carrying the same basket he wooed you with on a previous date, except now on his other arm some other totty is chatting is up. You've been a) stood up and forgotten about, b) tossed aside for this complete lesser version of yourself, and c) totally hungry because you wanted to save some space in your tummy for that nasty food he always packs on the picnics anyways. Completely bashed, you walk back saddened and disheartened to your flat back down the street. Go up the flights of stairs; unlock the door. Throw down your jacket, purse . . . grab an apple from the bowl on the table . . . switch on the sound system . . . put on your headphones . . . crank up the volume . . . and listen to some New Pornographers. Now, everything is better. 

Wasn't that, like, completely picturesque. Don't you wish it had happened to you so, I don't know, you could actually know what the experience feels like and know if The New Pornographers actually does turn your frown upside down. Wow, that was a lame thing to say. Whatever. 

St. Vincent: What We Put On The Speakers For Some Good Ole Cooking And Babka Baking Bliss.

The next in the line up is St. Vincent. This is cooking music . . . baking music . . . babka making music.  It sets the perfect mood for anything you would ever want to make. John loves Annie Clark's voice so much that he puts it on every time he cooks or bakes . . . anything.  So, yeah, I suppose I am a little biased since I hear it every night (basically) while someone is cooking. However, even before he started doing such, I would put "Paris is Burning" on repeat while baking babka . . . it has the best rhythm to knead dough to . . . the same goes for chopping up fruit, veggies . . . it just kind of put you in this beat where everything flows just right . . . and when I'm in that beat I'm less likely to chop off a finger or get put off by kneading dough. 

Anyways, on I haven't mixed St. Vincent into the "Ultimate Alaskan Road Trip Music Mix" (that's the tentative name for it at the moment) . . . I'm figuring it'll be placed somewhere for the nighttime . . . with mountains . . . maybe another "Montana" . . . or maybe "British Columbia" . . . I don't really know how it is feeling for me right now. I'll figure out later. Hm. 

Yo La Tengo: Music For The Twelve O'Clock.

So yeah, I've been slacking with the musical selections, so today I'll be posting like a million of them. Starting today off, Yo La Tengo! This is music for the afternoon, you like some music is great for waking up and then other selctions are better for when its evening and dark out.  This is "it's twelve o'clock outside and the sun is shinging brightly and there is nothing that can stop the day from . . . being" music. Recently I put on the Yo La Tengo "I Am Not Afraid of You and Will Beat Your Ass" while I was slicing fruit in the afternoon . . . doing laundry . . . making gourd birdhouses.  You know all those multiple mid-afternoon, 12-4 pm activities you did when you're not at work. You turn the Yo La Tengo up really loud (because you can) and everything goes a little quicker.

Also, in the Alaskan Road Trip mix (John and I leave one week from now! EXCITED!), I've placed Yo La Tengo in the "Montana" part of the trip (I've divided the musical selections via state to make the task easier for me . . . we currently have the "Kansas," "Nebraska," "South Dakota," "Wyoming," "Montana," Idaho," Washington," "British Columbia," and "Alaska!" music mixes . . . they're not all finished, obviously). Anyways, that's all I have to write for now, goodbye. 

Le français est plus dur qu'il regarde : J'essaie ma main à l'écriture dans une langue étrangère et il ne résout pas très bien. Evidemment.

J'essaie de traiter mon français, donc j'écris cette poste en français. Je ne sais pas, mais je ne pense pas que ceci résoudra pour moi. Je suis un cours dans lui parce que je ne l'ai pas parlé puisque j'étais seize et je vais en France sur l'été l'année prochaine. Mon patron pense que j'ai besoin d'être préparé. Je ne suis pas dans lui qui beaucoup de mais essaie de ne pas faire ces sensations connues. De toute façon, je suis excité du voyage en France. Je n'ai pas été à l'Europe depuis ma période là-bas pendant un deux stage d'an. Bien sûr, pendant cette période que j'étais dans Autriche, donc ce n'était pas tout à fait le même comme ceci sera. J'ai apprécié l'Autriche tout à fait beaucoup, bien que. C'était un pays merveilleux avec les quantités abondantes d'histoire et de vues pour voir. Bien, je dois arrêter l'écriture maintenant. Je peux me sentir que ceci sera plus dur que j'ai pensé. Seulement la moitié de ces mots est correcte.

The Best Show on WFMU with Mixed Fruit Kabobs, Falafels, and a Day Spent Holidaying It Up.

I've been lost for a while, as you might have noticed. Last week I just got so bundled up with work and studying and work and dinner and bad television and pumpkins and everything that I just kind of forgot to post . . . anything. So I am finally picking it back up where I left off (not actually) finally. 

Well I can't really tote any music choices right now . . . because right now I'm catching back up on my "The Best Show on WFMU" via podcast because I haven't been able to listen to them live the last two weeks. Well, there's not much I can say about the show (its one of those that you need to listen to to experience it). 

Hmm. Well now, I'm going to go, I've got some laundry that needs to be done . . . and then I'm going to make some falafels (woot) and . . . I don't know . . . chopped apples, pear, banana, and strawberry kabobs . . . maybe with some dark chocolate inter-kabobed between the fruit. After that I'll be going all suburbia and putting up the fall seasonal decor around the house. You know, the cornucopia on the table, the pumpkins on the porch, and everything. 

This weekend I went out and bought like a million pumpkins (because I love pumpkins seeds baked with cinnamon) and the gourd vines I planted in the backyard have yielded quite a bit. I bought some last year (some gourd squash) and I've dried them out this year for me to make bird houses with (yay!). This being the first year that I haven't lived in the city, meaning that I now have a yard with trees, I can actually hang my bird house out in the yard. Real Meaning: I'm going to totally craft it up!  

Well sheesh, I have to go and study . . . I've got a couple of tests coming up . . . and I have to write, write, write. Whatever. John's going to go crazy if he finds out I'm making falafels . . . but who cares?

The 'rents came over this weekend . . . it was amazing!

The 'rents came over this weekend . . . it was amazing! 

I suppose I should make multiple corrections to the previous sentence . . . first of all, my 'rents did not come . . . because . . . well, my mother is no longer alive . . . and my father, well, I haven't spoken to him since I was sixteen and moved away to live with my mother and go to college. So, it was John's parents that came over and stayed in our guest room (that I thankfully had furnished when we moved in!) . . . the second correction . . . it was not amazing. 

It was rather stressful. John kept freaking out, which would stress me out . . . which would freak him out even more . . . and so on. But in the end I guess the stress wasn't really worth it, because everything worked out well . . . John would say however that the only reason it worked out was because he did stress out so much . . . but whatever. 

The next time I write I will finally get back to the ongoing Library selections . . . as I wasn't able to listen to any music this weekend . . . for the obvious reasons (i.e. John would have flipped out). 

Dressy Bessy: What I Go and Listen to on a Friday Night to Get a Drink and Forget About the 'Rents.

The post for today covers Dressy Bessy, if you couldn't get that from the title . . . duh. I went and saw them on Friday night in Lawrence at the Replay Lounge. They were really loud . . . comparatively to the other bands that played. Well, I like Dressy Bessy . . . I mean they're nice to listen to and everything . . . the only reason I went was because I had to stay late in Lawrence and was coerced by a friend . . . and I thought, "Hey! I'm already going to be staying here late, so might as well go to a bar listen to some Dressy Bessy and get a drink . . . because I sure know that I'll be savoring the need for this drink over the weekend when John's parent's are here."

 

So yeah, that's all I have to say, because . . . well, there isn't much for me to add. Okay?

Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah: Why Don't You Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah!

I am going to be ending the theme of yesterday, which was full of many UK artists and etc, by starting up today/tonight with some posts on another of my favorites, (I know the words favorite become redundant when you have too many, but hey, give me a break), Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah! I written about them before . . . and I might have even mentioned how Alec Ounsworth is god. 

But more to the point (not the Ounworth's godliness is not a point . . . ), Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah is music for . . . I dunno . . . driving in Alaska? I'm only saying that because I'm currently compiling some road trip music for mine and John's vacation to Alaska in a couple of weeks (yeah, I think I forgot to mention, John and I are going backpacking in Alaska! Woot?) and my road music from the whole Oregon-Washington-Canada-Alaska portion of the trip has an overwhelming amount of Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah in it . . . I suppose I still have a couple kinks to work out with it. 

But really picture this: "Some Loud Thunder" or "The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth" playing as we zip through the northwestern countryside . . . full of tall spruce trees and that muggy wet weather . . . it's kind of refreshing to think about . . . or at least I think it is. 

Oh, and I'm not going to post any pictures . . . because well, I'm tired of it . . . and I'm sure I posted some before so, if you really want to see some godly Alec Ounsworth, search the archives . . . or do it the easy way and just Google image search him . . . duh!

Belle & Sebastian: What Makes a Mean-Spirited Morning Full of Bad Facial Expressions and Hand Gestures, Without Due Cause, Better.

Belle & Sebastian. I've written about these folk before . . . or at least I believe I have  . . . and if not, I'm crazy to not have done so before.  I love them! Absolutely! I love them so much that I had John order me some merchandise via the Internet and have it shipped across the seas . . . which price-wise might seem like a complete mistake . . . but I have to say my Belle & Sebastian coffee cup is my favorite coffee cup . . . even if I only drink tea from it. 

I believe I wrote in my previous post some spiel how Belle & Sebastian is for those times when I'm in one want of all things pure and innocent (kind of like a way to cleanse my soul) which is kind of ironic . . . since the subject matter of their songs is sometimes a little less than pure . . . and probably questionable (but hey, I'm no ninny)  . . . it's just the sound, though . . . it's the sound of something pure, and because of both of these qualities it makes great driving music. 

My favorite instance where Belle & Sebastian is perfect: It's about 7:30 in the morning maybe a little earlier at 7:00 or a little later at 8:00, but not much past those times. You're in you're car on a morning commute 30 miles away . . . driving down the lanes of roadway past the 'burbs . . . there's a light layer of snow coating the ground and your windshield, windows still have patches of frost and ice stuck to them because you didn't have enough time to defrost the car before you left . . . at this time you have some light B&S playing in the background maybe something like "If You Find Yourself Caught in Love" maybe a little "Lord Anthony"  . . . then you finally get to the big road exchange that'll take you to the highway for the longer extent of the commute, and right when your about to pull off onto the highway . . . about to merge into oncoming traffic . . . you can't. Why? Because somebody from these damn Midwestern states is driving 25 mph on the highway, completely freaking out about the snow layer and on the ground that was left over from a snowy incident four days prior . . . they don't even try to switch over to the many other four lanes, with virtually no traffic on them, to allow you to merge . . . therefore, you have to break, come to a stop, and allow them to pass . . . and then while they're passing they become rather rude, flash you a mean glare and rather rude hand gesture . . .  enragement (yeah I know it's not a word) on your side ensues . . . allowing that the light side of B&S no longer fits, so you can immediately switch over to something like "Judy and The Dream of Horses, " We Are the Sleepyheads", or even "Dear Catastrophe Waitress" to better suit the mood. 

Of course, this situation is clearly circumstantial . . . and applies really only to . . . well, me, but hey, it still fits . . . and I'd say try it if you ever happen to . . . but I know nobody else will ever happen to be in the same.  Therefore, I will pacify you with pictures for making you read such a long and pointless story. 

So, yeah. It's dinner time . . . yes, John and I are eating an early dinner, because John's practicing with his whole multi-course dinners . . . you salad, soup, dessert . . . main entrees and everything . . . all because his parent's are coming over for a weekend stay (this weekend . . . I've forgotten to tell) and unlike last time we're not going to take them out to eat . . . but instead will be staying in to highlight the new kitchen John has to work his magic in. He's making some crazy traditional Norwegian cuisine . . . to impress them (probably to say hey, I still remember the homeland or something . . . (sheesh, that was kind of mean-spirited of me . . . it was all said in jest)). Anyways, we'll see how it goes . . . hopefully well. 

Burial: Why People Drive at Night and End Up Stopping at Those Fluorescently Lit Diners With French Fries and Diet Cola.

Now with this musician, I am actually still sticking to the UKian theme, despite the fact that its no longer indie pop that's being discussed . . . it more like . . . electronica dance music. With this I can say that I don't exactly know how/why I went from indie pop to well, this, but I did. Truth be told, I'm not a huge electronica dance beat music kind of person . . . I don't really get into it. However, in writing about this I will try to be unbiased and everything. 

Therefore, I will use the easy simple metaphor in trying to describe my feelings towards this . . . the road trip mix metaphor. On the normal long haul road trip (equalling more than 24 hours of driving, with appropriate and properly planned and decided mixes . . . not like those ones that 16 year old girls make to drive around with their gal-pals when they get their first car . . . because we can all agree those kind of mixes totally . . . suck?) this would be placed at nighttime (because, it is dance music, duh, therefore equalling too abrasive for the morning and too timid for the afternoon) while driving down one of those outer city limits highways . . . that are moderately devoid of traffic, but since it's in the sprawling outskirt suburbs of the big city, the highway/interstate is still lined with the yellow and white light emitted from the torch-like lanterns hanging over the roadway . . . to make the scene better, I will apply a few other things to emphasize the mood (these are just add-ins that can't be anticipated when making a driving mix like this). Here for effect, the roadway would be slightly wet . . . moistened from an afternoon of misty rain, with the air still smelling slightly of humidity and rising gasoline and oil fumes . . . causing a slightly halo-ed affect due to the light cast by the overhead lanterns . . . and making the road lines hard to see, causing a late night stop right on the outskirts at some fluorescently lit diner serving french fries and diet cola . . . 

Okay, so I might have let myself get carried away . . . but what I just describe is the exact mood of this music . . . and as always try it out if you don't believe me . . . meanwhile look at some pictures to let it soak in. 

So, I should go now . . . and you know, let it sink in some more . . . because I doubt it fully has still. 

Camera Obscura: Why They Set the Perfect Scene for Providing the Ultimate Showering Entertainment.

To keep up with the UKian theme of the last two posts, I am going to be writing about some Camera Obscura now (and probably some Belle & Sebastian . . . The Divine Comedy . . . The Pogues . . . after that, I suppose it's really what I'm comfortable listening to at the moment . . .  which who knows, could be some, I dunno Talib Kweli? or Funkadelic? (I'm just trying the think of a complete opposite to Camera Obscura . . . didn't work out well)). 

So, Camera Obscura . . . I briefly . . . and confusingly (maybe) mentioned in my last post that Camera Obscura gets me through the stress of showering, and I suppose I should follow that statement with one saying that it was/is completely true.  Camera Obscura is music for the shower, at least for me . . . My brother, back in the day, bought me one of those waterproofed CD players (outdated now, I know, but hey, it still works!) so I could listen to stuff in the shower and be able to hear it, unlike when you pull the boombox out and set it up on the bathroom sink, turn up the volume to max, and hope that you'll still be able to hear it when the shower's running . . . apparently he though that if I used this, it would solve that problem and make one not want to eh, sing in the shower? Anyways, nowdays . . . I just use a rotation of Camera Obscura CD's (I have all the released albums, Let's Get Out of This Country, Biggest Bluest Hi-Fi, Underachievers Please Try Harder, and their EP, Rare UK Bird) 

Now I know you're questioning me, but really everything I'm saying is true . . . Camera Obscura is the ultimate showering music . . . it's mellow enough so that you're not tempted to fall asleep (if you're ever tempted to fall asleep in the shower) but abrasive enough so that you're not tempted to lounge around use more water (that valuable resource, you know) than needed to make yourself clean again. If you don't believe me try it out, Camera Obscura works to time the perfect shower. 

Weren't those enjoyable? I especially loved the one of the showerhead system (of which, I actaully had installed during the new home renovations . . . a bit pricey, but totally worth it . . . it's like I'm being showered by a raincloud, which equals wonderful). I also choose to go with a little bit of irony, but I'm not going to get into it for those that don't get it, because it's really not worth it . . . really. 

Good Shoes: Why I Can Never Find the Right Pair of Shoes Mixed with an Appropriate Snippet About Los Campesinos!.

So I feel bad, for not commenting much on Los Campesinos! yesterday, therefore I will be throwing a minor snippet in with this post about Good Shoes (yeah, I was totally playing up a horribly bad pun with the title . . . reality though, I never can find the right pair of shoes . . . sheesh). Anyways, I have their (Los Campesinos!) album Hold on Now, Youngster . . . and their EP Sticking Fingers into Sockets, from which their Pavement cover of "Frontwards" is on . . . which if you can't tell I adore . . . because yeah . . . I like Pavement . . . uhh, yeah. I'm getting off track a little bit I guess, so back to Los Campesinos!, rather than Pavement. This is music for the the working day, whenever I'm spending one of those long nights at the office (despite the fact that its not a office). For instance last year at this time during those long night grading papers while being snowed in on the weekends . . .  this was the comfort music that made me not want to poke my eyes out due to the large number of syntax errors (I mean really who forgets to capitalize "I" over and over again . . . especially when the essay's suppose to be written in third person? AH!).  

NOW: Back to the real theme of this post . . . Good Shoes. Now, this is good blog writing music . . . or even just writing music in general. Flashback to last fall again: just after I got over that string of stomach flu and shingles (on my face, AH!) I was dealing with tons of writing and research . . . (and more and more of both of those things than I would ever be able to impress upon you)  . . . and to get through the strenuous task of writing about something so over-exhausted/over-researched as what I was writing about (I'm not even going to get into that) I popped on the Good Shoes and made it . . . thankfully! I think its that whole UKian indie pop thing . . . that gets me through things . . . Los Campesinos! for stressful grading . . . Good Shoes for writing . . . Belle & Sebastian for commutes . . . Camera Obscura for (hmmm, I dunno, showers?)  . . . ANYWAYS, I'm getting off topic. 

So, now I suppose this is the pertain of the post that I post a couple pictures to break the monotony and give my typing fingers a tad bit of a break . . . okay?

And now I suppose is where I leave to . . . do something else . . . I think I'm going to take a nap . . . or maybe get some lunch. John didn't have the good graces to pack me another lunch today since I told him yesterday that I didn't/wasn't able to eat the lunch he packed yesterday.  I'm going to get some mango, avocado, plum, pear, grapes . . . and maybe a little banana . . . and chop them up into little chunks before impaling them on long toothpicks to make what I'm calling a fruit explosion shishkabob . . . and yes, it's quite delicious.  

Los Campesinos! : Why a Visual Display Does Best To Describe This Group Rather Than My Words . . . Oh, and They Played Pavement . . . Total Plus.

Rather than try to describe Los Campesinos! with words, I am going to provide a visual display instead . . . and if I can get the technical issues worked out . . . I'm going to provide a Widget that will be able to provide a sampling of the artist that I am talking about for the day . . . or something like that. Enjoy this for now?

Yeah . . . kind of wasn't worth it, huh? Thought so, I should work on this more . . . because I really do love Los Campesinos! . . . I mean, they covered a Pavement song . . . which equals cool in all ways, duh!

The Thermals: What Makes a Kickin' Weekend Kickin" (In Other Words: What Brightens a Day?)

So, yeah . . . I'm a sucker for those indie rock bands . . . like The Thermals. Hmmm . . . The Thermals are music for two occasions: the first being, rainy (and by rainy, I mean it's been raining for three days straight and there's now a river coming through your back yard now because the ground's no longer able to keep up with it) days in the summer and the second being snowy (and by snowy I mean there's at least a foot of snow and you're running around in it building awesome snow men and women with carrots for noses and igloos in it) days in the winter. For some reason, for me at least, these are the days when this music works the most . . . so, well, watch out, for these days (as they are rare and few) and when they happen to come along . . . pop some of The Thermals on and enjoy. 

Eye Vomit: 

Hmmm . . . I suppose I have nothing else to say . . . other than, this is my third post for today (I think) and well, I suppose I should stop for today . . . I haven't had any lunch and well, John had the good graces to pack me a lunch today (in a brown paper sack and everything). Too bad that I got home before lunchtime and there had no reason to pull out the paper sack at work/school/whatever. Now, I'm going to go and open it up and check out what goodies lie inside . . . I hope it's pita and hummus . . . and mango . . . no some plum . . . no mangoes AND plums . . . maybe a little banana on the side . . . yum. 

The Hold Steady: Why I Would Totally Want To Go To the Chillout Tent and Get Some Oranges and Cigarettes.

And this . . .  a far cry from MGMT, but . . . this one was high on my play count for the weekend . . . and for well, for forever. The Hold Steady . . . yeah . . . they're kind of awesome . . . wait get rid of that kind of . . . they are awesome. I only have two of their four albums: Boys and Girls in America and Separation Sunday. They kind of remind me of . . . something, something familiar . . . but familiar in one of those good ways, like the smell of charcoal and coffee, not one of those tired and bored ways of repetition. 

For me, I put a good hold of these into a mix for when I went on a road trip to the southwest two years ago . . . this is good "driving-through-the-Moab-Desert-in-100-degrees-of-heat-with-tumble-weed-and-sand-separating-the-road-from-everything-else-during-the-summer" kind of music . . . try it out and you'll find that it totally works. 

Art? Now? Okay?

As you might be able to tell from the title of this post . . . I'm totally into "Chillout Tent" but hey, I'm also into "Cattle and the Creeping Things" and "Southtown Girls." Check them out. 

Yeah, I'm promoting the band . . . whatever. 

MGMT: Why the Mountains are Great in the Morning and Fog When this is on Full Blast. . . and During Every Other Occasion.

So, the weekend is over and now I am back to writing up my musical posts . . . because I have had time to listen and listen and listen to a whole slew of wonderful and okay and not so wonderful stuff. It was beyond enjoyable . . . instead, mildy exciting. 

So, the first artist up is MGMT, of whom I completely adore. This is beyond perfect mix music, it's something that can be listen to as whole on one of those road trips . . . but even if mixed up it fits perfectly as well. My favorite? It'd have to be off their album Oracular Spectacular and the track titled "Kids." This track, is a driving track . . . you know for the mountains and fog . . . for when you're sad and need a spark, but not too much to blow a fuse. AAHHH! It's wonderful in all ways of the word. 

Now for some art: 

Ah, now wasn't that fufilling . . . makes you want to go out and A) listen to the album if you already have it, B) buy the album because you don 't have it, or C) illegally obtain the album because it's worth the risk of prosecution. Any way you go, this is a must-have-listen. Duh!

All Smiles: Why I All About the Smiles . . . Again.

I have already very recently written up my feelings about All Smiles . . . otherwise known as Jim Fairchild, therefore, I will just be reposting that same post . . . even the part about John making dinner . . . because well, I don't want to bother about cutting it out:

"So, yeah . . . I'm not being weird or anything with the title and all; instead, my brother got a (tad bit) little bit eBay crazy, and bought a whole bunch of shit (that for most counts, one could say he never needed) and loaned me half of it . . . one of those item being a CD by All Smiles, otherwise known as Jim Fairchild of Grandaddy, a former band of which put the rock in "rocking your socks off" . . . they're . . . they were . . . AWESOME. Well, anyways, I'm currently to the CD, and yeah, alone he's no Grandaddy (and really he, alone, sounds nothing like the whole collective of the former band he partook in . . . like, it's a completely different genre) but hey, it's still pretty good. I'm digging it at least.

And on that note, I should go . . . dinner in five and John gets perturbed when I skip out on whatever delightful cuisine he's prepared for the night. I suppose he thinks I don't appreciate enough his slaving in the kitchen (if you could it that, since he thoroughly enjoys it.) Eh, I say he can deal."

So yeah, I definitely think it's better the second time around.

All-Time Quarterback! aka Ben Gibbard: Everything Can't and Isn't Meant to be Perfect, So Naturally I Feel I Can't Deal the Hate When it's Due.

All-Time Quarterback! . . . I kind of can't stand Ben Gibbard . . . you know, Death Cab For Cutie, The Postal Service . . . I didn't and don't really like them. The only reason I suppose I have the solo album (whatever they call it) is because this is what you listen to when you're in a self-loathing, hating mood . . . whenever you want to listen to better versions of bad trendy music, because well, you kind of want to experience musically a reason for why you hate the rest of the world.


Yeah, somebody had to say it.

Albert Hammond, Jr. : Sheesh, He has an Enormous Amount of Awkward Punctuation in His Name.

. . . with the punctuation aside, I must say that I thoroughly enjoy the musical attempts of Mr. Hammond, Jr. It's refreshing, his solo career. I've yet to get his new release, and alas only have Yours To Keep. However, I cannot put this in a mix sense, because, well, I have never used it in a mix. I have, however, received it in a mix though . . . where the song selection happened to be placed after something by The Hold Steady.



I suppose now is the appropriate place to say that it seemed oddly placed after something like The Hold Steady . . . bad mixing, man.

Air: What One Pops on the Player During Those Arduous Drives to New Jersey . . . Really, What Else is There?

Air, Air, Air. I only have one of their albums: Moon Safari. To describe it is to use words that I don't actually know of existing. So, I will put it all in relation to my life . . . mixes. If I was to put this in a mix . . . it would be on one of those long 10 hour compilation mixes (meant for drives to places like, say, New Jersey) and it would be positioned on the mix to coincide with the early morning maybe 9 or even 8 . . . because it has enough pizazz to keep a person awake, but is electronic and mellow enough to not bear any brash sounds that a person on a long haul of a drive would not want to hear.

From what I understand, Air is French which I suppose could explain a lot . . . and whatever else I understand . . . is . . . well not that much. Not going to lie, I don't listen to much Air . . . except in the case that I aforementioned . . . and well, I don't do much long-haul driving. Obviously.

A.C. Newman: Sounds for the Daily Commuter in April.

So today is A.C. Newman, of whom one might know as being a front man for the New Pornographers. I suppose this is the best place to start, because, listening to him is like the beginning of a brand-new mix . . . you know, these are the kind of songs that you put at the beginning of a newly configured driving mix for those long commutes to work in April (I know from the experiences of my own life). So, go out, configure a mix, and start driving . . . OR . . . you, could follow the other situation in which his music fits: rain.

Anyways, I'm kind of looking forward to the rest of the day, so I suppose I should go. I'll post more later or whatever . . . you know, whenever something comes to me . . . yeah. 

It Feels Like I Have Bugs Crawling Over My Entire Body: Why I Went To the Drugstore Today and Invested in Multiple Bottles of Hydrocortisone Cream.

I thought that should also write a little bit more than just for the ongoing music selection posts . . . so, obviously, I am doing this for this post. So, I'm getting back into the swing of things . . . back to school (sadly) and "real" work (again, sadly) . . . really I've been back in this swing for a couple of weeks now though . . . and (sadly) it's still not getting better. 

I suppose I could say that it's better than last year though . . . since John and I bought the house the commute has been shortened . . . which makes the drive bearable, and when I get home at night John is usually off work already and because he loves the kitchen so much (still) he usually already has some warm and delicous prepared for dinner . . . which I must so is the most delightful thing a person can meet once once come home: a house full of such wonderful smells and . . . warmth? 

On the issue of warmth, I am thnakful to say that the weather is getting extremely better . . . or at least has been. Yesterday when I walked outside to leave, I stopped, shivered (yes, I actually shivered outside in August), and had to go back inside and get a jacket . . . all of which is completely enjoyable to me . . . if not a little bit diconcerting as, well, it's never 50 degrees at 11:00 in the afternoon in August here . . . it's like last winter when the temperature went up to 75 over the holidays . . . terribly disconcerting. But hey, I'm not going to get into a big spiel on global climate change . . . because it'll just put me in a huff and won't make me able to enjoy the freshly baking fruit pastries that John is currently baking in the oven. 

On a light note then, climate might be changing, but the areas local fauna problem is not . . . and when I say fauna, I do not mean deer or skunk or squirrel . . . I'm talking about bugs . . . lots and lots of bugs . . . and the many many bug bites that accompany them. Furthermore, I'm talking about the MILLIONS of bug bites that I have covering my body right now. At first I thought I was breaking out in another rash of shingles (see some of my very early posts for more details) but then it turned otu all the hives like bumps coating my ankles, legs, and stomach were not the beginning of a very large shingle outbreak . . . but instead the beginning of millions of little bug bites that would threaten to have me itch myself raw . . . and I must say I nearly would have if John had not intervened halfway through last night when he woke up to the sound of me thrashing about trying to itch the itch out.  His solution: a tube of hyrocortisone cream not nearly large enough to cover the surface area of all of my bites . . . but eh, at least he tried. Today, I went to the drug store and invested in a much larger bottle. 

Anyways I should go then . . . you know, reapply some anti-itch cream, eat some of those wonderful smelling pastries that John is currently pulling out of the oven, and then save some room for dinner . . . becuase I think there's quiche as well. 

Wilco: Why I Was Angered and Outraged When John Outright Flattened The Idea of Growing Himself a Beard in the Image of Jeff Tweedy.

This post is devoted to my most favorite listening music: that of Wilco. Not only do I love the dulcet tones of Mr. Jeff Tweedy's voice, as you might already know, but I sort of compare him to a god . . . I even tried to convince John to grow out his beard Jeff Tweedy style . . . and well, naturally he didn't, but it would have been wonderful if he did. 

Anyways, I have the entire collection of albums that they've released . . . and enjoyed listening to them again, for the millionth time . . . because, well, things like this never get old . . . or boring. So hmm, I'm trying to think of something that I haven't written before, so that I can write

 something without repeating myself . . . because I know how boring that can be. 

. . . Hmmm.  I might as well fill the void of myself thinking for thoughts for write with a tad bit a art . . . everything gets better with art right? 

So . . . yeah, I've got nothing . . . I'm completely dried up on Wilco, other than the simple statement that they are the best at what they do . . . which is create art umcompared, duh. So, yeah, I had better cut this post short, John (the man that refused to grow a Jeff Tweedy beard) had made pita and hummus tonight for dinner . . . something of which I haven't had in forever. While we're eating, whether he likes it or not, I'm going to put on a little Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and bop along to some "Jesus, Etc." 

Vampire Weekend: Why They are Not Worth the Commute from KC to Lawrence and Why The Polyphonic Spree Surely is Due to the Definite Uniformity.

This is good stuff . . . I am currently listening to Vampire Weekend's self titled album, Vampire Weekend . . . and am enjoying it. This is something that my brother gave me a while back, and then apparently they started getting pretty big, and everybody loves them. Well then, I love them too. I have to say that the most enjoyable track that I've been listening to is "Walcott" . . . I like the piano . . . of course, that's probably because I like most songs with strong piano pieces in them . . . of course, this all despite the fact that the the most popular track being the prior one and one halfway through the middle . . . I didn't bother to learn their names. 

Now for a little bit of eye media:  

Well, sheesh, that's enough for that I suppose . . . well, I guess I should plug their tour for any local readers . . . they'll be in around the area in a couple days in Lawrence . . . Thursday, I believe . . . I won't be there, because the drive/commute is too long for for something not entirely worth it . . . I mean the last time I drove to Lawrence for a concert was for The Polyphonic Spree . . . because really, that's a show definitely worth seeing . . . all I need to say is robes . . . and army uniforms . . . costume uniformity . . . whatever you want to call it. 

Of Montreal: Pretty Pictures and Pseudo-Dance Music = The Makings of Catchy, Trendy, Pyschodelic, Bee-Boppy Happiness Via Sound.

Yeah, I bet you didn't expect that the first artist mentioned would be Of Montreal, for the second time in a row . . . and so to make this more interesting I'm going to go in more depth I suppose, than just the bland comments of how I think Of Montreal is dance music of those either of many persuasions, those mainly being 1) too lazy, 2) horrible dancing skills, or 3) a combination of those previously mentioned. Of course, most of these comments pertain to the later works of Of Montreal, or one might be daring enough to say Kevin Barnes since he wrote and recorded all the music himself and well . . . Of Montreal just kind of became his "backing band" . . . but whatever. 

Anyways, I have a most of their albums:

The Bedside Drama A Petite Tragedy

The Gay Parade

Coquelicot Asleep In The Poppies: A Variety Of Whimsical Verse

Satanic Panic In The Attic

Adhils Arboretum

Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?

Skeletal Lamping

The Sunlandic Twins

Horse & Elephant Eatery (No Elephants Allowed): The Singles and Songles Album

The Early Four Track Recordings

If He Is Protecting Our Nation, Then Who Will Protect Big Oil, Our Children?

Icons, Abstract Thee

The Bird Who Continues to Eat the Rabbit's Flower

I used to have a couple others, like Cherry Peel (their first album) and a couple other EP's, but they somehow got lost . . . probably during translation after a computer crash or something . . . I'm not too worried though because I think I have enough to keep myself busy. Oh, and yeah, I know that at this time Skeletal Lamping has not yet been released . . . so don't ask how I got it (my brother) . . . uh, yeah.

So anyways, I do thoroughly enjoy listening to this kind of stuff . . . it's catchy . . . and well, they do pull off one hell-of-a live show . . . especially when Mr. Barnes is acting all alter-ego glam-rock. 

A Revision to Everything.

So, yeah, I tried the whole alphabetical thing . . . started with the A's and everything, and even made it halfway through them typing up little anecdotes as I listened or after . . . whichever. Got a little . . . boring . . . dragged me down a bit, you know. So, configured a newer revised list for me to listen through that will help the alphabetical monotony . . . but at the same time keep the alphabetical order . . . and coincidently, the first artist on the list is somebody I've mentioned quite frequently before . . . so you'll have to deal with the repeat . . . again . . . and not with just this artist but many others as well.

This Is How We Know, This Is How We Go, This Is How We Know . . . Now We Count Two-Two-Three . . . Breathe, Two, Three

So to start with this new music listening frenzy, I am going to add that I will be using my laptop's music library was reference, rather than my whole collective library because well, it's very large (like 100+ GB) and most of it is stuff that I don't normally delve into or like for that matter, but instead just have to have. Instead, as I noted before, I will be using the library on my laptop that contains a variety mix of anything and everything to fit every mood that I could ever be in (even if I'm never in those certain moods).

So today, I've turned off the Of Montreal and starting with a good base/beginning line, the A section of the alphabetical library . . . I'm going to be posting each endeavor according to the first alphabetical letter, rather than with each individual band, because well, it save me time, and well . . . it saves me time. What this means for you: each post for each letter might include multiple comments on multiple artists. . . and some letters may not even exist. So, yeah, my next post should be in in a couple of hours once I finish this section. Anticipation? You should be feeling it.

. . . What was that? You feel like dancing, but no, not really? Pop on some Of Montreal then? Duh.

I'm currently listening to Of Montreal, it's one of those kind of moods . . . like where I need to dance and flop about, but don't exactly want to . . . that's the best way I can describe the feeling I get/the mood I'm in when I listen to Of Montreal . . . and well, I don't really know whether one could take that as a good or bad thing. I'm going to say it's good, because I figure that if it was a bad thing I wouldn't keep listening.

Anyways, I'm going to post some pictures (actually meaning one) and leave it at that . . . well, no, not really, I'm actually going to preface my future post in this one. In the future weeks, I'm going to be re-listening to my library of music, starting at the A's and moving through to the Z's . . . I keep thinking that I'm not listening to most of the stuff enough, and am overshadowing by listening to stuff like Of Montreal over and over. Well, this is going to happen no more for the next couple of weeks.

ANYWAYS, back to the photo:



Ah, now wasn't that enjoyable?

Spicing Up the Page: Why I Thought Pictures Would Be a Good Remedy for Everybody.

Sheesh. Try to enjoy this:




Yeah, I also thought that it might be nice to add a couple of images . . . since this page has been so devoid of them lately . . . I dunno what the deal is really, I'm usually completely up on my image game . . . maybe now I'll get back on pace. Yeah, right.

All Smiles: Why I am All About the Smiles.

So, yeah . . . I'm not being weird or anything with the title and all; instead, my brother got a (tad bit) little bit eBay crazy, and bought a whole bunch of shit (that for most counts, one could say he never needed) and loaned me half of it . . . one of those item being a CD by All Smiles, otherwise known as Jim Fairchild of Grandaddy, a former band of which put the rock in "rocking your socks off" . . . they're . . . they were . . . AWESOME. Well, anyways, I'm currently to the CD, and yeah, alone he's no Grandaddy (and really he, alone, sounds nothing like the whole collective of the former band he partook in . . . like, it's a completely different genre) but hey, it's still pretty good. I'm digging it at least.

And on that note, I should go . . . dinner in five and John gets perturbed when I skip out on whatever delightful cuisine he's prepared for the night. I suppose he thinks I don't appreciate enough his slaving in the kitchen (if you could it that, since he thoroughly enjoys it.) Eh, I say he can deal.

The Adirondacks: Why I Have a Tad Bit More Hope for Humanity.

I've been a little busy, or so I say. I suppose I should tell the real truth, which is that I haven't had much to write about, and well, I don't really feel the need to write dribble about things that are . . . well, dribble. The only reason I am writing now is because I just got back from a very well fulfilled hiking trip to the Adirondacks, and I thought that I should comment on the complete joy of being out in the fresh air with nothing but wilderness surrounding . . . it's that feeling of being completely and utterly in tune with the rest of the world and every living being on the Earth. The hike gave me one of those feelings that made me have a tad bit more hope for the world, you know, kind of like the opposite of those feelings that makes one more intolerant for the plagues of the earth, if that is possible.

But anyways, I arrived back here to the city yesterday, which became a quick drag, since I had been lying out under the stars for the past weeks, and then to be shoved back indoors into the "comfort" of a house with heating and indoor plumbing was kind of . . . weird? I haven't yet uploaded all my pictures from my camera, but once I do, I'll post them so any available readers can have the not-quite-so-comforting-semi-cop-out-feeling of being one with the wilderness.

Oh, and on a lighter note, I'm back on the Sleater Kinney kick . . . nothing like the wilderness to make one crave something giving a little power to the women. Woot.

Project Log: Weeks Later.

What? I've been busy?!?!

Sheesh. Get off my back.

Lying, Visiting, Boring: Why These Things are the Essence of Me.

Ah. Sheesh.

I know. I know. I know. I lied.

In my last post, which came after what one might call a "long period of no-posts", I promised to speed everything back up to its more frequent pace, and as I am aware now, that promise never came true. It has been more than a month, I believe, since I last wrote . . . and well I suppose I would be lying again if I said that a lot has happened.

After leaving the farmland of Missouri, much to my brother's dismay, I came back home . . . went to work . . . and back again to the home. . . and well . . . you get the gist. I could say that I have been well, and John too, but there is something quite unsatisfying in writing those bland words. So rather, I am going to examine some of the other . . . happenings of my life.

So, what to write? Oh, a couple weeks ago, my birthday passed. It was okay. I didn't celebrate it. It happened on the same weekend that John and I went over to St. Louis to visit and vacation with his family. I'd be lying (once more) if I said that I had been looking forward to this occasion, since the last time I met the relatives and peoples of his family, was last winter when everybody was asking me when we were going to get married . . . and I hastily killed that thought in thier minds by saying that we were in no way "together" . . . and now . . . we had just bought a house and were living "together" . . . really what kind of message does that send? Well, I'll say it did make everything a tad bit more awkward than it should have been . . . his grandmother wouldn't talk to me (even if I couldn't understand her) and just kept giving me one of those "I-told-you-so" looks.

We did however happen to go to a most splendid garden . . . full of the most beautiful flora a person could ever lay their eyes on . . . well, not really, but it was rather pretty . . . I, myself, am still partial to the Bellengrath Gardens in Alabama, that I have had a chance to see many times over. These, compared to them, were sub-par.

Well, I suppose I should leave now and figure out how I am going to stay on track with this whole blog thing . . . whatever, yeah.

A Brief Post For Today: What I Have Been Doing the Last Months in Narnia.

Okay. Well, I'm writing this a couple days later than I said I would be in my last post, but really, who cares that much? I've been doing well I suppose, and after reading the last of my series of posts, I suppose I should write to say that John and I have since, finally and successfully moved into the new home, which I can say for both of us was quite a relief. The place turned out rather nicely, I suppose, and of course, the only thing John was really ecstatic about was the new kitchen with new appliances . . . but I can't really blame him for that . . . the new appliances are quite . . . wonderful.

Other than the move in, I had disastrous set back halfway through May involving my computer and a complete crash and burn. I lost all my files. All my work. All my papers. Research. Oh, and not to mention 40 GB of music. I was only thankful enough that I had had the smarts to back everything up on an external hard drive . . . so, really, I didn't lose anything. But it was a pain to transfer everything back onto the system, so I suppose I can complain about that.

Other than those two events, I doubt anything else of certain importance has occurred. Right now, I'm on vacation, staying with my brother in Missouri, to which all I can say is, woot. I have only been here for a week, but I now understand why I never wanted to live in the boondocks of Missouri. Sep is currently residing in a rundown farmhouse in the middle of now where, with at least 50 acres to all sides free of civilization. The reason I am here? Well, Sep thought it would be "a good idea" for me to "get some clean clean air" as his two day stop up here in KC, in the days before we went on our trip to the Caribbean, gave him the impression that his air was somehow better than my air. I think its just his ego, but he'd never admit to it.

Anyways, I'll be leaving sometime next week from this . . . place . . . and until then I am going to try and enjoy the scenery . . . maybe. John is still back in Kansas and as he says in on the tele is "enjoying the quiet peace of a place without me." I think we both hope he's joking

I'll write again later, with the promise that I will try not to leave with such a lapse of time spanning in between my postings. Oh, and I'm going to post some pictures as well, because . . . everything needs to have an image of the fields of cattle currently surrounding me . . . not that I find cattle particularly interesting, but I think this page needs to be livened up with something more . . . different and interesting. Okay?