I want

nothing more than to be listening to music and smoking weed out of an apple. Not working. Not typing essays. Not interviewing. Not reading. Man, time, when I find you, you and I, we're going to wrestle and I'm going to beat the shit out of you. I will give you a black eye. I will punch you so hard you will be bleeding. Time. You and I have a score to settle.

Also, I'm pretty sure I get to see Cold War Kids, Ra Ra Riot and Death Cab tonight.
I saw Death Cab in Nov. but I'm been looking forward to this show for a while.
Proof!
http://gogorunifyoucan.blogspot.com/2009/02/la-musica.html
My boyfriend is a big fan of Cold War Kids but I am far less hip and indie then him, but, I am a huge fan of ra ra riot because they are happy and write from e.e. cummings. So maybe I am hip. Yeah, whatever self awareness you might be ironic and uncomfortable!


also, I keep getting J-Smooved by men that are not at all interesting to me. I mean like, weight lifting, business, suit n tie, bull. I find this kinda funny but also a pattern I don't really like.

when chaz was high today I showed him this and then kicked him out of my room.
hahahaha.

Ok, I have a preface, a confession, a too-lengthy-verbose, comma heavy, preface:

I'm nervous about blogging. I'm well aware the fact that people, anyone can read this makes me a little... nervous. I mean, I write all the fucking time, but there's something different about blogging. It's impersonal. But, at the same time people write really intense personal shit on it. Shit that could be illegal, shit that could hurt someone's feelings, shit that could change the view of him/her. I don't understand blogging.
I don't know why I do it. It's weird to me when people tell me they actually read my blog. It's weird to me I don't have a pen in my hand and paper sitting out on my table. But, I'm going to write this anyway because rolling around and flirting with hypocrisy makes me complete.

Fleetfoxes and some beautiful Mary Jane that was smoked out of an apple happened.
After, I went for another interview.
Fuck.
And I have no idea how the fuck I will ever be able to hold a job that doesn't have some greater, altruistic purpose. Halfway through the interview I realized I didn't want to work there. What did I do? Subtly turn the conversation and steered it towards her. I learned about her divorce, her old job, why she owes the business, her education, etc. etc.
I walked away in my khaki pants and button-up biznazz shirt and clicky shoes and bought cheap bath towels. I then decided to go on an adventure and found the Salvation Army. I paroozed around there for a while until I stumbled on boxes of old photographs. Someone had dropped off some beautiful 35mm/120 prints on various sizes. And then I felt like I was looking into someone's life. They're were beautiful black and white photos. Very Bresson-esque in their candid nature. I looked at them for 45 minutes and I feel very invasive and odd about it. Even though, I really did nothing 'wrong.'

I also found an apartment guide for Seattle, finished contacting my references and will now end this ego, individualist blog with this:





Oh, yeah, cynicism.



is it weird that eddie murphy reminds me of my grandfather??

Oh.

Listening to Sigur Ros watching this sunset was a perfect way to end this weekend.
Absolutely Perfect.
Today I also went exploring on my bike and got caught in fishing nets. Don't ask. I just don't want to be inside anymore.

And then I remember!

Sometimes, with nostalgia seeping its way into my memories, making them lacy, frilly and infinitely more beautiful than they really were, I often forget why I left an environment behind. I position the memories comfortably in my past, tuck them away, fold them and place them neatly in my desk drawer.

Then sometimes, nostalgia fades and reality slaps me so hard in the face it leaves a welt. This demonstration took place at the outside same place I had my senior prom, the venue I saw Neil Young perform, saw Broadway's Lion King & The Color Purple. It was, in fact, the very same venue that I graduated High School from. The fact that I like socialism, (but realize, I don't think the U.S. has the needed cohesive whole mentality to make it happen) makes me kind of glad that I left this city. Makes me really fucking glad. So, when I'm sitting in Seattle in my shitty apartment, drinking shitty beer, eating cheap shitty food, getting shitty small paychecks, I'll remember it's a fuck-of-a-lot better than living in a city that... does things like this:

I avoid political discussions like the bubonic plague. One mention of a political institution makes my nerves stand up and my confidence cower and wilt. I do however, like socialism. I just don't want to talk about it.

"Eastern Washington kind of reminds me of Jurassic Park. You know, there's trees. And mountains"

So I'm just going to pretext this starting out extremely shallow but eventually moving onto something, so just be forewarned.

So while I was visiting empty spaces, wheat fields, tall sparse pine trees, suburban living with cable, I stumbled on Lady GaGa's new video, "Pokerface." I think she's fucking hilarious and totally euro-trash. So I watched it. About two minutes and thirty seconds into the video, after she does her failing wannabe Peaches rap, I noticed a beautiful man lounging both awkwardly and sexily in his underwear.
See for yourself http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAoPJxTvZOQ

And at this point, after the dog, and a bathing suit thing, coming out of a pool with a masquerade mask, and light up glass, I'm just really confused about the hella sexy, super awkward hot man. But I'm pretty sure I'd make shity music if I could have that hot of man lounging around in his underwear awkwardly. Mmmmkay.

And then I shake the vapid nature (its just not my thang) I think about an interview with Joni Mitchell I just recently read about the production of music in a Capitalistic Society

Interviewer:This is why your body of work has such quality. You were developing your imagination and your voice before outside commercial pressures began. Now young people instantly covet the recording contract. Unfortunately, the fabulous music-video revolution of the '80s degenerated and turned music into image and posing.

Joni Mitchell: I heard a record executive say on the radio that they were no longer looking for talent but rather for a look and a willingness to cooperate, because with Pro Tools they can fix anything. There's always been a disposable quality to this business.

http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1285/is_7_35/ai_n14870832/

And then, I think about art in relation to production and 'quality' (or measure of beauty) and of course, William Morris. Yep. William Morris the Socialist the Neo-Marxist, that dirty dirty man who made wallpaper and furniture. And I like him. I love his ideas. And then I relate him back with the hot man I want in my bed. Without his underwear. (oh, how risque!)

So, here is the thing, the super sexy, almost naked man in the Lady GaGa video, represents a lot of the problems that the music industry (if you consider mass music to be art, is another question)has with production, consumption and quality of art in a capitalistic society.

http://www.marxists.org/archive/morris/works/1885/manifst2.htm
William Morris= love.love.love.

So, if you take Morris's ideas about quality and the laboring individual in relation to materialism and wages, and apply those theories to the degenerative quality of art, it makes sense that the hot man was in the video.

and just to continue the cycle of aesthetics--

mmm Isolation.

This island didn't have 'real' social structure. People drove drunk. People hit deer and drove away. There was no 'legal' drinking age. No cops. No laws. The biggest thing that happened that summer was people got caught smoking cigarettes at the lake or ran across the airstrip. Society you are cool, but sometimes not for me.

http://marinas.com/view/marina/2857_Blakely_Island_General_Store_WA

!

I listen to the BBC broadcast nearly everyday when I wake up and I glance over CNN.

but then I read this and laughed
http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=4771571&blogID=481648635