A-La-Musica

Today I purchased my ticket for the Ra Ra Riot/Death Cab Show here in April. The last time I saw Death Cab they opened for mothafucking Neil Young. That show was, hands down, one of the best damn shows I've ever been to. You know that feeling when the hairs on the end of your arms stand up? Yeah. It was that good. Death Cab/Ra Ra Riot is not until April, but I know that this show, while it will be more intimate,and definitely, definitely more hip, will never measure up to Neil. Because I love him.


Here he is performing "Cinnamon Girl" in Everett. One word for that show: ineffable.




Tangent: I know Neil is older (born in '45) but hot damn, I am so in love with this man. He encompasses everything I desire. He's sensitive, creative, an idealist, really altruistic, totally liberal ... if only I was born a few generations earlier.

Anyway I was listening to Ra Ra Riot "Dying is Fine"
today and I realized that some of the lines in the chorus were part of an e.e. cummings poem:

dying is fine)but Death

?o
baby
i

wouldn't like

Death if Death
were
good:for

Ra Ra Riot is seeps hipness. they're from N.Y. they opened for Bow Wow (a strict ironic parody, I can only assume) And it turns out they use proto-modernist poet cummings as a basis for their songs. If that isn't hip, well, someone with tight pants, an ironic t-shirt & a mustache better fucking tell me what is.


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also, oh.my.god. PLEASE read this (do not let the fact its from vice magazine deter you...that much)
http://www.viceland.com/music/2009/02/relaunching-morrissey/

SNL

I've never been a fan of SNL and after watching several episodes I've concluded the only reason I watched them was because of this funny guy-

He's incredibly funny, goofy and awkward.

John Updike.

The essential support and encouragement
comes from within, arising out of the mad notion that your
society needs to know what only you can tell it.

John Updike died.

He embodied the post-war white American middle class and Protestant ideals which have defined part of this nation. I think to understand small fractions of the complex American perspective, you should understand this realist novelist, critic and poet.

On the Road

Those dutiful dogtrots down airport corridors

while gnawing at a Dunkin' Donuts cruller,

those hotel rooms where the TV remote

waits by the bed like a suicide pistol,

those hours in the air amid white shirts

whose wearers sleep-read through thick staid thrillers,

those breakfast buffets in prairie Marriotts—

such venues of transit grow dearer than home.

The tricycle in the hall, the wife's hasty kiss,

the dripping faucet and uncut lawn—this is life?

No, vita thrives via the road, in the laptop

whose silky screen shimmers like a dark queen's mirror,

in the polished shoe that signifies killer intent,

and in the solitary mission, a bumpy glide

down through the cloud cover to a single runway

at whose end a man just like you guards the Grail.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=99910985


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Also, this is by far, one of my favorite music videos.

RSVP

So I decided that I am going to do the RSVP portion, from Bellingham to Vancouver B.C. in August.
It's about 80 miles. The incline isn't terrible. Much nicer than the Seattle --> Bham portion, and 20 miles shorter.


Problem is, my bike is hella old. But totally aesthetically pleasing. Its the kind of bike you ride around the city, not the kind of bike you ride long distance. But I LOVE riding it and I figure riding long distance might be like running, once your body pushes itself to the max, you keep going and you just go into pilot mode. I just need to figure out if my bike can actually do it, well.

Plus, it will be a physical challenge, something I haven't done for at least 4 years. And its way past overdue.

Weezy. Sucks.

note: what the fuck, its February! Thanks progression of time!






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I hate Lil' Wayne.
First of all, his lyrics don't make any sense in their content! Good music, to me, means you can't separate the form from the content, they become one itself. The lyrics fit the beat, the beat fit the content...etc.

I'm a venereal disease
Like a menstrual bleed
Threw the pencil and leaked
The sheet of the tablet in my mind
Cause I don't write shit
Cause I ain't got time


SO AWFUL.

Do I even have to explain why these metaphors don't work. This is such 'bad' music.

As billboard.com states," "Prom Queen" will debut tomorrow on the social networking site Facebook as part of a partnership between Lil Wayne and AT&T. The rapper will perform the single for the first time during a concert in San Diego, which will be streamed live on AT&T’s FREEdom of Choice and Mobile Music Facebook pages at 9:40 p.m. PST on Jan. ...27 (12:40 a.m. EST on Jan. 28)"

Take a look at this embarrassingly bad performance, which no doubt gave Weezy a fat paycheck.


He's a sexist, materialist who markets himself to American Consumers like a 1st Ave prostitute with a bad addiction to meth.

Meowza.

Waking up I laughed when I received the following text message in my inbox (it was probably a funnier because I haven't had any coffee)
"when you wake up my bike is tied to a tree in your yard. the key is in your mailbox."

this was also incredibly hilarious at the time it happened:

Biking Accidents

So I found this, something I wrote this summer I found it oddly hilarious and disturbing. Totally worth sharing.

I came back from the island experiencing a little culture shock. I was rolling around on a private island with no police, no law enforcement and a population of about 20 people living on it when I left. Needless to say, societal integration has been lulled & heavily lubricated with beer and Blackalicious. Read this knowing these facts. Read this knowing I am not proud of those facts.

I rode my bike to school. I was so stoked about my sweet shiny vintage Schwinn that when I left I forgot my keys and locked myself out of the house unknowingly. I get home and I reach in my purse and realize that I don't have any way of getting into the house. Luckily, I have friends who have keys, so I eventually find a copy. On the way home I decided that I need posters for my room. Nothing screams, "You're cool and Aesthetically pleasing!" like my mocha cream walls. Ick.

So, I go with it and ride my bike downtown. I forget my lock for my bike in the house so the entire time I'm buying posters, I'm peeking out the window afraid someone is going to steal my bike. No one does because its ....Bellingham.... and people are awesome (or at least, I hold the façade that people are awesome). So I stick the two posters awkwardly in my purse. They're hanging out and it's kind of hard to bike, but I manage. That is until a car starts pulling out of a parking spot right in front of me. I swerve strangely on my bike, posters hanging awkwardly out of my purse, and they smack me right in the face. That's right, Bob Dylan and Picasso straight up smack my face. I lose control of my bike because I have no idea how the fuck I went from riding super smoothly to having posters aggressively attack my face. Before I know it, I ride smack into the cab of a truck. The license plate reads, "Montana Big Sky Country" and this grizzly full on bearded man comes out the bagel place and kinda just stares at me. I look at him back. I ask him if he wants to look at the back of his huge truck to see if I did any damage. He kind of half grunts and shrugs, "no…" and walks away. Thanks? My arm is kinda bleeding. [Note: His beard was very prominent and furry. I guess in Montana you need that to keep your face warm]

I pick up my posters from the middle of the street and my arm is swollen in one place and severely bruised. I look up again and I see a police officer walking by on the sidewalk. I intently look at him. He intently returns the stare then looks down at the sidewalk and shakes his head. And walks away. He motherfucking walks away. I'm so pissed at this point, because a) I was hit by Bob Dylan (!?!?!) b) I ran into a huge parked truck in front of a ton of people and c) The police office didn't even ask if I was ok. Isn't that sort of their job? Come on higher authority, I almost just got hit by a car, got slapped in the face with posters AND interacted with a beared man probably descended from Sasquatch and/or a large ape. I know I have a goddamn bias with those in power, but really, this didn't help much. The law states that bicycles should adhere to the same laws that cars do when riding. If this was the case, the car not yielding to me was illegal. Point Blank. I hit a goddamn car to avoid being backed into by another. It hurt. The car was a jackass and the police officer saw it all and didn't give a fuck. So pardon me for being just a little enraged with a blue arm and leg. Displaced? Maybe a little...

I get back on my bike and ride home, pop some Tylenol and drink a Coors Light. From a can. That's right, not only did Bob Dylan slap me, then I was ignored by law enforcement, I'm bleeding & swollen & I'm drinking Coors Light out of a can on my floor listening to Le Tigre.

Such is life. But I suppose, in all reality if that's the worst I've experienced in a while, I'm doing pretty good.
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