Losing control of the language.

El-P Drones Over Brooklyn You know when you just realize that...

Mon, 05 Nov 2012 22:14:48 -0500

El-P Drones Over Brooklyn

You know when you just realize that everything is wrong with you? Maybe it’s just because I’m stoned or because I ran out of my anti-depressants a few days ago and I’m getting side effects. I can never remember the difference between “affects” and “effects,” but I’m starting to figure out the passive tense.

My life doesn’t feel real very frequently and I’m not sure I have what it takes to do what I need to do to change that.

If my dad is right it’s ok that I’m trying. Maybe it’s the trying that makes things seem unreal – when you accept life the way it is it becomes an unquestionable reality. I feel guilty when I expose people to the turmoil constantly churning in my mind.

But I see other people’s weirdness as entertaining unless they effect (or affect?) me negatively. Everyone has their own shit. There’s no reason to feel bad about it unless you think it makes you immoral. And even then, what’s the point of hating yourself? Where did I get all this guilt?

I can feel the SSRIs leaving my system and it feels terrible. But it doesn’t feel particularly amazing to be on them either. It’s so strange to think about my mood last night versus today. Hyperactive optimism versus chemical depression.

I wish I could jump like my cats. I wish I could think like them.

I want to really see things.

Dirty Projectors - Gun Has No Trigger If you had looked, you...

Wed, 11 Jul 2012 11:51:00 -0400

Dirty Projectors - Gun Has No Trigger

If you had looked, you might have just seen them
Stretched in the background
You’d see the oceans swell
And the mountains shook
You’d see a million colors
If you really looked

I almost wish, at this moment, that I was committed to some kind of mental institution. Nothing out of One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, just a place I couldn’t leave, removed from most stimulation. I could read and write, but not watch TV or go online. I would be fed regular meals and learn how to sleep. People would come visit me and tell me about the outside world, and for once, I would have nothing to report. My life would be static.

Now quick the night draws near
Her curtain spreads quicker
The safety’s off,
But the gun has no trigger

I am so afraid of judgement. Though in many ways my life has become extremely public, I always manage to carefully angle what people see, like an old Myspace picture. Even my slip ups are usually intentional. It drives me crazy. I’m always hoping to get caught.

If you had looked, you’d be no one’s coward
Distance, justice, power
You’d glimpse the password
You wouldn’t need the book
You’d own both slave and master
If you just had looked

In a recent interview with James Murphy, he talked about the process of editing his movie, and the idea of “leaving things in” instead of cutting them out, even the things that make you cringe with regret and embarrassment. It’s so hard to know in this age of hyper-exposure if that’s a good idea. But at least for my obnoxiously self-aware self, I think it might be.

But now the banks all close
And nothing gets bigger
The crowd will yell
But the gun has no trigger

If you had looked, you might reconsider
Or just maybe you already have
They watch you sleeping
You watch their garbage cook
You’d weep a bowl of tears
If you had looked

I recently went home to California, hoping to momentarily escape my life in NYC and make some connection with my past (a pursuit which my Dad’s Facebook friend recently implied, I am much too young for). What I mostly found was how fully I have assimilated into my life here. I don’t feel sad about this. I think this existence fits me. Now I need to let go of all the cognitive baggage blocking me from accepting that.

But now the gate comes down
The pangs are growing dimmer
You hold a gun to your head
But the gun has no trigger

Jo Schornikow - Bird’s Nest are you like a birds nest? a...

Wed, 04 Apr 2012 14:23:44 -0400

Jo Schornikow - Bird’s Nest

are you like a birds nest?

a lovely world, a transient mess

Another morning awake too early, trying to block out the rising sun, trying to pretend it’s still night.

you are always ready to go

When you’re feeling bad in this city it’s hard to isolate yourself. You find spaces to hide in public, areas of your mind you’ve cordoned off. You sleep with your arms crossed on tables and lean on subway posts. You listen to albums that feel like a quiet room and a warm bed, as you walk through the cold wind, smoke and bad smells.

your ancient name, I cannot forget, it rhymes with every word that I’ve ever said

I finally got around to listening to Sharon Van Etten’s album Tramp from last year. I like it. But revisiting this album, the solo debut of an Australian woman who played in my apartment a few months ago, I think she even better achieved what Van Etten was going for. I do enjoy the meditative rhythm of the songs on Tramp, but this album captures the weary, seductive honesty that Van Etten trades in - with more memorable lyrics and catchier melodies. Almost every song feels like something that will last.

Though it’s a bit selfish, and I really do hope for Jo’s success, it feels nice to have an album this good to myself, for now.

an american flag over your window, your pictures and films

and a couple of bags with your clothes

you are always ready to go

I have my problems, but recently I’ve realized that worse is the anxiety and guilt that surrounds them. My dad and therapist tell me to have compassion for myself. I’m trying to have more faith that I can get through everything I’m up against, that I deserve to enjoy what I’ve achieved. For now, I’m trying to flow with where life takes me.

yes we’ll sleep when we’re dead, live while we can

Without fail, I finally feel like falling back asleep just as I should be waiting up.

Grimes - Oblivion Another walkaboutAfter darkIt’s my point...

Thu, 29 Mar 2012 22:54:00 -0400

Grimes - Oblivion

Another walkabout
After dark
It’s my point of view
That someone could break your neck
Coming up behind you always coming and you never have a clue

I am a lyrics person. Whole-heartedly. Even a song with one line that’s a bit off makes me uncomfortable. So it’s strange, then, that I listened to and loved this song for months without considering the lyrics, or even trying very hard to hear them. I could make out single lines and choruses, but I never pieced them together.

And now I’m left behind all the time
I will wait forever
Always looking straight
Thinking counting all the hours you wait

A few days ago I finally looked up these lyrics, and they completely changed my perception of this song and even of Grimes as an artist. I had started getting the feeling that maybe this song, which I would dance to at a party or play as I walked around on a sunny day, was perhaps not as lighthearted as its synth melody and breathy vocals suggested. Reading the lyrics not only confirmed that, but made me feel an even stronger connection to an artist and album I’ve already come to love.

See me on a dark night

And now another play i would act
If you could help me out
It’s hard to understand
Cause when you’re running by yourself
It’s hard to find someone to hold your hand

I think it’s the tension between her hopefulness and her loneliness that really gets to me. Reading the lyrics to this song, I felt like I could have written them. I am not sure what I relate to more than the quest to annihilate feelings of sadness within yourself, to escape from an all-encompassing loneliness. But that’s not what the song sounds like, and that’s important too. Claire hasn’t given up, isn’t drowning in self-pity. Far from it. I think she’s saying that, as hard as it is, this life is her choice. She could lead a life of security and maybe feel less alone, but that isn’t the choice she made. It’s a nuanced understanding of what it takes to be ambitious and have high standards for yourself and others. As much as you may want someone to take care of you, to relax into someone’s arms, it’s worth it to wait to meet someone who will support you and your quest for whatever will truly fulfill you.

And now the empathy empowers me
But i will wait forever
I need someone now
To look into my eyes and tell me
Girl you know you’ve gotta watch your health

But it’s complicated. She’ll wait forever, but she admits that she isn’t doing so well right now, and that alone takes strength. “I will wait forever” speaks to me more than any other line in the song. Maybe because of its romanticized melodrama, but, like almost every line in the song, it could also be interpreted as a war cry: against loneliness, against failure and sadness. I have to think that she believes one day she’ll be ok. And until then she’ll survive.

See me on a dark night

Darkness itself has infinite meanings. I’ve personally listened to this song as I wandered from one adventure to another, later and later, wondering if I’m having the best time of my life, or just having experiences that will soon be lost in a blur of meaninglessness. Chasing oblivion, chasing meaning, running from everything that’s out to get me; physically, emotionally, psychically. Someone could break my neck, but I’d never have a clue - so I keep going. See me.

Robyn - Dancing On My Own Somebody said you’ve got a new...

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 21:54:00 -0500

Robyn - Dancing On My Own

Somebody said you’ve got a new friend

Does she love you better than I can?

Big black sky over my town

I know where you at, I bet she’s around

In high school I was in love with a boy (or so I thought). He was in love with one of my best friends. She was in love with him, too, briefly. They dated for about a year, but she drifted away from him as their relationship became more stable and in her eyes, boring. Now I haven’t talked to her in years, and she lives somewhere with people I don’t know.

Yeah I know it’s stupid, but I’ve just gotta see it for myself

My psychiatrist says I have an unusually strong phobia of cliché. I want it to be ok for me to feel things that other people feel.

I’m giving it my all, but I’m not the girl you’re taking home

I’ll keep dancing on my own

I didn’t even listen to this song today. I only thought of it on the train home, so tired I was getting chills and almost collapsed as I fell asleep leaning against the door.

I’m just gonna dance all night

I’m all messed up, I’m so out of line

Stilettos and broken bottles, I’m spinning around in circles

I relate to the lyrics of this song pretty intensely. The combination of determined self-destruction and hopeless longing is something I’ve experienced many, many times. I think the line “spinning around in circles” is what brought it to my mind today. Sometimes here I feel like I’m spinning downwards towards something I can’t make out, but I know can’t be all that good. There aren’t many hands trying to pull me out.

I’m in the corner, watching you kiss her

Not trying to sound morose, but that’s what I feel right now. What’s the difference between writing and therapy? Is this too “public”? I can’t tell if I’m being an obnoxious over-sharer or “expressing myself” or making art. I’m not trying to come off a certain way, not on this blog. If anything, I’m trying to undermine any facade I’ve been able to piece together elsewhere.

I’m right over here, why can’t you see me

That boy, from high school, he’s not a bad guy. He led me on for awhile, but he didn’t intend to hurt me. Neither did my friend in college who did the same. All the others, the guys I’ve been friends with, who’ve flirted with me, or their idea of me, before going with whoever they’re really interested in, they didn’t mean to hurt me either. I’d probably do the same.

Yeah, I know that it’s stupid, but I’ve just gotta see it for myself

It’s one thing to survive being single, I’ve done that almost my whole life. I can’t survive without my friends. Even if I can, I don’t want to.

I’ll keep dancing on my own

The Mountain Goats - Source Decay Flying To California This...

Mon, 02 Jan 2012 11:11:35 -0500

The Mountain Goats - Source Decay

Flying To California

This morning I woke up like I was still dreaming. I was lying on a rotting couch with some kind of black curtain draped over me in place of a blanket. The couch was in a music venue I’ve been to many times, but I hadn’t seen a show there the night before. I got up, used the bathroom and took another bottle of water. I walked down the dark stairs to the street and into the bright Brooklyn morning, past kids going to school and people commuting to work. I half-heartedly attempted to hail a taxi, but ended up taking the train. The colors outside seemed both bright and soft. It was a Monday morning. I think I was still drunk.

where as indirectly as you can
you ask what i remember
i like these tourture devices
from my old best friend

Now I’m on an airplane headed to see my family in California. I’ve spent the last two days drinking with a band I love, and today I was again horribly hung over. I fell back asleep and woke up too late. My boss didn’t really care, but he doesn’t care about a lot of things. I’m reading a book by someone I met a few weeks ago at a bar at which I was certainly the youngest person.

well i’ll tell you what i know
like i swore i always would
i don’t think it’s going to do you
any good

Sometimes these days I can’t recognize myself. I decided to bleach my hair – something I’ve never done – in what was maybe an attempt to embrace the strange person I’m becoming. Or maybe it was to try to gain some semblance of control over what appears on the surface to be a lot of success in a short time, but has manifested itself as a downward-spiraling continually worse emotional breakdown. In any case, it isn’t working.

i remember
the train headed south outta bangkok
down toward
the water

Flying To New York

i wish the west texas highway
was a mobius strip
i could ride it out forever
when i feel my heart break

Sometimes I think I might be a writer. Upon further consideration, it seems doubtful. At least, I know I’m not one right now. But really, what else would I be better at? I have an insane memory for details (the more centered on myself, the better). I can remember every outfit I wore on the first day of school from fifth through twelfth grades. 6^th grade – a purple skort and sparkly purple shirt, both from Limited Too. 9^th grade – a shirt from a small store in Quebec, a tan corduroy blazer from Macy’s, jeans and black and white converse. What else am I going to use these bits of information for, aside from impressing or creeping out my friends and family? I also think that, like my dad, I am at heart a sorty teller. I’ve even sometimes considered trying stand up, because it’s similar to what I do in conversation. I tell the same stories again and again, altering the delivery and details slightly, and wait for the laughs. I’ve worked out what to leave in or keep out, and I change the act depending on the audience. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be a comedian.

i fall out of the car
like a hostage from a plane
think of you a while
start wishing it would rain

It’s a pretty ok problem – being interested in too many things. My ambitions keep growing, proving limitless thus far. But I worry if I don’t eventually pick one thing I’ll never be amazing at or known for anything. My life, interests, and work will dissolve into a puddle of blog posts and half-knitted scarves.

when i come up empty handed
the feeling almost overwhelms me
i let a few of my
defenses fall

I don’t know exactly what it was, but in the last year, something has definitely broken inside me. I used to write about my inability to stop self-editing, to the point that made it impossible for me to be creative. Now, I write about other things. Increased confidence and some success helped, but I think the real culprit is New York City. If living in this infinite circus of wonderful, terrible, constant overstimulation doesn’t bring out what you most love and hate in yourself, then maybe you shouldn’t be living here. New York is the inescapable lens through which I now view the world. I don’t think it can be undone. But that’s ok. I’ve always thought about things deeply, too deeply for my own good. It’s only been the solitude, depression, ecstasy, anger, glee, pain and joy that my life here brings me that has allowed me to make those dry analyses into something more interesting. It has destroyed the barriers that used to block my ideas before they could reach the world outside my head. I now want to tell people everything. I have so many stories to write.

and i smile a bitter smile
not a pretty thing to see
think about a raileroad platform
back in nineteen eighty three

and i remember
the train headed south outa bangkok
down
down toward
the water

Zola Jesus - Sea Talk Way up highWhen you tell me not to cryDid...

Fri, 02 Dec 2011 10:59:06 -0500

Zola Jesus - Sea Talk

Way up high
When you tell me not to cry
Did you understand I can’t help it
Did you understand I don’t have a choice

The term “witch house,” is quickly growing as useless as “indie.” It’s nearly impossible to justify an argument about what is or isn’t witch house. Despite that confusion, I think a central attitude of the genre is a sense of nihilism and apathy so intense that it actually exudes darkness. And not because it’s trying to be dark, like black metal, but because the degree to which the artists don’t care is incredibly bleak (FYI: I like a lot of this music). I wouldn’t blame anyone who wanted to group the super-bleak Zola Jesus in that category, but there’s a dramatic difference between her and her witch house “contemporaries.” There is more emotion in twenty seconds of a Zola Jesus song than there is on some entire witch house albums. If she has given up, it’s not for not trying, and in her voice you hear the exertion she has to use just to get it OUT, both physically and emotionally, in a way that reminds me of Amy Winehouse. Her pain is palpable. I would never describe her as numb or apathetic.

Do you wanna go
Do you really know
I don’t ever stay awake for you
Do you wanna go
Do you really know
That I can’t afford the truth

The cold, white sun was shining off the SoHo streets, reflecting off the ground, the cars, the sunglasses of people with too much money, and my cold, white hair. I was returning to work from therapy, starving, dazed, and drained, thinking about my parents and the things I do to cause myself pain, as I tried to navigate the crowds of shoppers, starting every time I caught a glimpse of myself in a store window.

Sick
I’m sick honey
I don’t, I don’t got the money
Do you want a rain-check
‘Cause I can’t give you what you need
All by myself

Last week my friend told me that without her boyfriend she feels like half a person. I’ve only been in one relationship, and it only lasted a few months. Though I’ve felt pretty lonely since I was a young teenager, not only do I feel like a whole person, recently, I feel like too many people, all of whom are fighting for dominance in a psyche that is constantly pitching and shifting, upturning itself, depressing itself and restarting itself. I am bursting with possible selves.

Do you wanna go
Do you really know
I don’t ever stay awake for you
Do you wanna go
Do you really know
That I can’t afford the truth

In the war of identity that has been fought in my consciousness for the last few months, the stakes keep getting higher. It’s been a mostly cold war, with few casualties, each side constantly appeasing the other. One thing is clear - I am not the person I was a year ago. It’s uncomfortable to contemplate, especially when I talk to friends and family who can’t see or understand it. I wanted to do something physically to represent this, but nothing that would trap me into any one identity. My new hair is not a white flag. It’s signaling a new era of my self, one where I can dress rockabilly one day, wear all black the next day, and when I feel like it, just wear an ill-fitting band t shirt, but, hopefully let that diversity strengthen me instead of drain me.

Give me one more try
Before I fall apart, fall into the sky
I feel every inch, I feel it fold
Over myself, over you

As fun as apathy can be, I’m more cautious in experimenting with it than than I am with most drugs, lest it take over parts of myself that are too important to not be cared about. But I’m not afraid. The things I feel deeply will always win, even when I have to push hard to let them out.

Do you wanna go
Do you really know
I don’t ever stay awake for you
Do you wanna go
Do you really know
That I can’t afford the truth

I am bored

Sleeping States - The Next Step Though it never leads anywhere...

Sun, 27 Nov 2011 19:45:00 -0500

Sleeping States - The Next Step

Though it never leads anywhere good, I kind of like being at a packed bar or party alone. You can assume any identity or personality you want. You can pretend your friends are outside smoking or your boyfriend is waiting for you at home. You can chat casually about unreliable coke dealers with people in line for the bathroom.

and what most stings, i’ll be your friend first
and i’ll take you out for lunch and i’ll ask you those things i forget
like would you like to go for a walk, and
would you like to take my hand

Last night I was dancing to a song that was very popular among a certain part of the population last year. I remember seeing the song played, with thousands of people singing along, in Madison Square Garden. This time, it was coming from a DJ booth in an underground bar, but people were still happy to hear it.

and i’m asking you please
c’mon, please

Sometimes all I can do is listen to this kind of music and order pizza.

i would have thought love for a while
yes, such a long time now
anyway
i was searching for a smile
from your face and from your eyes

I woke up today and it was dark outside. It’s like this day didn’t happen.

then i heard you sing
please
c’mon, please

I just want to live inside the guitar sounds on this album. It seems like a nice place to be. It’s like lying on your friend’s bed and drinking tea.

Iron & Wine - Faded From The Winter I decided this weekend...

Thu, 08 Sep 2011 16:28:30 -0400

Iron & Wine - Faded From The Winter

I decided this weekend that this might be my favorite album of all time. Listening to it feels like being in a womb. I’ve probably listened to it more than any other single album, when I can’t sleep, after crying, driving home early in the morning, shifting between states of consciousness, struggling to let go of something that’s been pulling me apart. These songs are a warm cup of tea with honey, a soft blanket, a friend holding your hand. It’s everything I could need.

Daddy’s ghost behind you
Sleeping dog beside you
You’re a poem of mystery
You’re the prayer inside me

Lion’s Mane is the album’s opener, but this song is where I feel it really starts. Though it’s the most comforting collection of songs I know, this song starts off uneasy, almost ominous feeling. And then the first verse ends and it’s like coming over a hill as the sun rises, everything slowly growing brighter and turning gold, and you know you’re going to make it.

Spoken words like moonlight
You’re the voice that i like

The songs on The Creek Drank The Cradle aren’t always happy. On the contrary, they’re full of pain and longing. But it isn’t an immediate, all-consuming pain, like the one overwhelming Bon Iver’s For Emma, another album for when I need music to wrap around myself and to protect me from whatever I’m trying to escape from. These songs are more distant, filtered through the lens of memory until their stories have been romanticized into something that probably never happened, but you’re willing to believe did.

Needlework and seedlings
In the way you’re walking
To me from the timbers
Faded from the winter

Elliott Smith - Alameda You walk down Alameda Shuffling your...

Wed, 20 Jul 2011 13:22:56 -0400

Elliott Smith - Alameda

You walk down Alameda
Shuffling your deck of trick cards over everyone
Like some precious only son
Face down, bow to the champion

This wasn’t one of the first songs I latched on to when my friend gave me the two Elliott Smith mixed CDs in 10th grade, inscribed with blue and purple sharpie and the titles of the songs written out in her undecipherable handwriting. They lived for years, growing unlistenable, in CD cases and car seats. I could probably still find them in a crevice of a box in my garage holding what used to be in my room.

You walk down Alameda
Looking at the cracks in the sidewalk
Thinking about your friends
How you maintain all them in a constant state of suspense

It would be easy to go all Garden State right about now. Even when I was 15 and had never experienced the untethered feeling of homelessness that Zach Braff described, I still picked out that line from the movie as important, quoting it on my Livejournal or Myspace, somehow sensing it would factor in my future. And now my lack of a traditional home is more real than I could have imagined. But it doesn’t feel that way. My home is with my friends, wherever they are.

For your own protection over their affection
Nobody broke your heart
You broke your own because you can’t finish what you start

We create communities wherever we go. It’s one of the best parts of being human. Though I worry about lack of community around the things I love, the little there is seems to constantly struggle for survival.

Walk down Alameda
Brushing off the nightmare you wish
Could plague me when I’m awake
And now you see your first mistake
Was thinking that you could relate
For one or two minutes she liked you

Elliott Smith’s voice alone makes me feel 15 again.

But the fix is in
You’re all pretension
I never pay attention
Nobody broke your heart
You broke your own because you can’t finish what you start
Nobody broke your heart
You broke your own because you can’t finish what you start
Nobody broke your heart
You broke your own because you can’t finish what you start
Nobody broke your heart
If you’re alone it must be you that wants to be apart

Okkervil River - Unless It’s Kicks What gives this mess...

Fri, 15 Jul 2011 11:25:13 -0400

Okkervil River - Unless It’s Kicks

What gives this mess some grace unless it’s kicks, man
Unless it’s fiction
Unless it’s sweat or it’s songs?

Tonight I was standing on a pier in the Hudson River and the moon was almost full and I was watching one of the most inspirational women and the air was perfect and then the fireworks started and I totally agreed with her that being alive is awesome.

What hits against this chest unless it’s a sick man’s hand
From some midlevel band?
He’s been driving too long

The last time I saw her she actually said “YOU’RE ALIVE!” between songs, and she was right.

On a dark windless night
With the stereo on
With the towns flying by
And the ground getting soft
And the sound in the sky
Coming down from above
It surrounds you and sighs
And it’s whispering of

This song gives me that same feeling.

What pulls your body down, and that is quicksand
So, climb out quick, hand over hand
Before your mouth’s all filled up

There’s something I want to write about here but I don’t want to use someone else’s experience for my own dumb attempt at creativity. Let’s just say they scare me and inspire me in a way similar to Merrill Garbus.

What picks you up from down unless it’s tricks, man?
When I been fixed, I am convinced that I will not get so broke up again

I usually never think about this but there was one moment on the 4th of July when I was sad that I wouldn’t live forever.

And on a seven day high
That heavenly song
Punches right through my mind
And hums through my blood

Most of the tattoos I want to get have to do with the concept of impermanence, which is a bit ironic I suppose. The one I’ve been considering most strongly, though, is from this song.

And I know it’s a lie
But I’ll still give my love
Hey, my heart’s on the line
For your hands to pluck off

What gives this mess some grace unless it’s fictions
Unless it’s licks, man
Unless it’s lies or it’s love?

What breaks this heart the most is the ghost of some rock and roll fan
Exploding up from the stands
With her heart opened up
And I want to tell her, “your love isn’t lost”

I have “your love isn’t lost” written across my wall in foot tall letters that I made one night from a pile of music magazines I’d been saving for years with no clear intention. I’m thinking about getting in on my wrist. It seems like something I could stand to be reminded of.

Say, “my heart is still crossed”
Scream, “you’re so wonderful”
What a dream in the dark
About working so hard
About growing so stoned
Trying not to turn off
Trying not to believe in that lie on your own
La la la la
Ohhh oh ohh

And then the jangly guitar kicks in and I dance around my room and nothing can make me feel better.

Los Campesinos! - A Heat Rash In The Shape Of The Show Me State...

Mon, 11 Jul 2011 15:08:08 -0400

Los Campesinos! - A Heat Rash In The Shape Of The Show Me State or Letters from me to Charlotte

She’d a bruise so black they watched it fade through the full spectrum of colours.
They kept it like a pet, a private joke; they told no others.
And how the tissue repaired, and how it turned to yellow
And she found it disgusting, ‘cause it didn’t match her clothing.
He said “that’s not yellow, it’s golden”.

When I first got this album it was in the wrong order and this song was first. I thought it was a fantastic opening song. The album build up seems more subtle now that I know “In Media Res” comes first, but I’m glad I got to hear this song so many times. I think it’s one of their best songs. There are so many perspectives and points of view going on at once that it’s impossible to not identify with it on some level.

Walk out onto yr front lawn and face into the rain,
Shout into the wind this’ll never be the same.

The promised they’d be best of friends from now until forever,
But both were far too needy not to fall for the other.
And how the frequent public displays of sisterly affection,
Left her feeling safe, left him with an erection.

Gareth is one of those people I can’t believe really exists in the world (though I’ve spent quite a while talking to him before and can assure everyone that he does). Like Morrissey, it’s easy to identify with his over-the-top angst, and it’s hard for me to believe he’s so unlucky in love when he’s so smart and funny (and adorable). Of course knowing someone’s music is not the same as knowing them as a person, but I feel like in this case it can’t be too far.

Walk out onto yr front lawn and face into the rain,
Shout into the wind this’ll never be the same.

I’m listening to the John Maus record for the first time. I am really liking it so far. I saw him at a now closed venue a few blocks from where I live now but I was too drunk to really remember it.

Her body barely visible is bleach white as the bedsheets.

Now that is some alliteration.

As stiff as starched, only perceptible as her middle was still branded
With a heat rash, in the perfect shape of the Show Me State.
Yr come on lines sound disastrous; noise more foreboding than volcano or earthquake.

Today I wrote about something I’ve been thinking about too much recently. If this wasn’t so public I’d share it here. I was hoping that writing it down would give me some distance from it, maybe it will work.

Walk out onto yr front lawn and face into the rain,
Shout into the wind this’ll never be the same.

I walked twenty minutes through Bushwick to go to the bank today. Other than my foot hurting and sweating everywhere it was surprisingly serene. I can never get over how different it is here than other places in the city. That’s why I like living on an above ground train. I don’t like coming outside to a totally alien environment and not knowing how you got there.

Letter from me to Charlotte;
“They appropriated everything we ever loved, and dressed it up in quotations and fluff.
And I had a dream: [though said with hands in pocket, I mean it hand on heart]
You held a gun to his head, pressed your thumbs to her throat”.
In these letters. Letters from me to Charlotte.

Writing about my own life really frustrates me, I feel like I am totally aware of everything going on with myself, though that sounds stupid. I tend to constantly consider and analyze my own thoughts, and when I go to write about it I feel I have to re-abstract it into something that sounds half-considered when I really know exactly what it is and why I was thinking it. I know there is a way to write where you can say things you really feel and have it still be artistic - this band is a great example. I sometimes worry I have nothing interesting to say, but I don’t really think that’s true either. I shouldn’t force things to be meaningful when they aren’t.

Walk out onto yr front lawn and face into the rain,
Shout into the wind this’ll never be the same.

The Mountain Goats - Fault Lines down here where the...

Fri, 08 Jul 2011 13:56:05 -0400

The Mountain Goats - Fault Lines

down here where the heat’s so fine
I’ll drink to your health and you drink to mine
as we try
to make the money we scored out in vegas hold out for a while

This album is too good. I was going to use Jenny for this post and I still feel conflicted about changing my mind. I must admit I’m feeling more nihilistic self-aware alcoholics than love-struck rebels right now, though.

we drink vodka from russia
we got chocolates from belgian
we have our strawberries flown in from england
but none of the money we spend
seems to do as much good in the end
I got a cracked engine block
both of us do

This is probably the ultimate Alpha Couple song, even more so than No Children.

got a house, the jewels, the italian racecar
they don’t make us feel better about who we are
I got termites in the framework
so do you

I am going to try to take a break from using sleeping pills to get to sleep. It’s not like they work anyway. I need to learn how to relax on my own.

down here where the watermelon grows so sweet
where I worship the ground underneath of your feet
we are experts
in the art of frivilous spending

I want to edit this song over a montage of the ‘Successful Alcoholics’ video. It would work too well.

it’s gone on like this
for three years I guess
and we’re drunk all the time
and our lives are a mess
and the deathless love we swore to protect with our bodies
is stumbling across its bleak ending

I’ve been sick the majority of the last two months, but this last time really pissed me off. I just got over strep throat last Thursday or so and by Sunday I was sick again with a cold. It isn’t that surprising considering what I did this weekend, but still, really? Breathing the air outside just makes me feel worse. I think the corner the train I live by is on is probably the worst smelling place in the world.

but none of the rage in our eyes
seems to finish it off where it lies
I got sugar in the fuel lines
both of us do

The Alpha Couple are a brilliant songwriting tool. Their conflicted psyches could provide endless material. They hate each other enough to constantly wish each other harm, but despite the fighting and the drinking and the $8 grand one of them owes the other, they can never fully escape their love for each other. Their hatred for each other is eclipsed only by their hatred for themselves, and somewhere deep down they know that no one else cares anymore: they are all each other has. So, unwillingly, they’re walking down to the end, together, and bringing whomever they can down with them. Hand in unlovable hand.

got a fight and the lies that we both love to tell
fail to send our love to it’s reward down in hell
I got pudding for a backbone
but so do you

La la la La, hey hey.

Real Estate - Beach Comber What you want is just outside your...

Tue, 05 Jul 2011 13:17:35 -0400

Real Estate - Beach Comber

What you want is just outside your reach
You keep on searching

I don’t think I’m in a state to write this right now but this song is the only one I felt like listening to.

You’re walking down that Pensacola beach
You keep repeatin’
While you’re waiting for that sound
Apparatus to the ground
You’re stealing from the lost and found
But what you find
ain’t what you had in mind

Yesterday I saw fireflies for the first time since I was about ten. I also remembered there are a world of fireworks out there beyond my small town’s high school football field. In Sebastopol, the 3rd of July fireworks was one of the few social events you knew everyone would be at. It was always incredibly disappointing. I watched the insane, five-tiered Macy’s-sponsored explosions last night and realized that aside from the already enormous crowd lining the west of Manhattan, there were probably thousands more people watching it remotely, on television. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to being in the center of everything.

Until you find your Rolex in the sand
You won’t be stopping
Until that solid gold is in your hand
You won’t be happy

After the fireworks we went to a gay bar in Hells Kitchen and saw a hilarious if somewhat mean drag queen comedian with a green wig and sparkling blue and white starred dress. I danced to a Lady Gaga song I’ve never heard before and found it somewhat enjoyable.

Nah, call your office on the phone
You can’t say you won’t be coming home
You fell into vacations on your own

I celebrated the 4th of July at 6 am this morning by running the water in the sink for five minutes until it got hot. Standing in the crowd watching the fireworks I couldn’t help but wonder what is going to happen to us.

The Mountain Goats - Raja Vocative a bird you would’ve...

Wed, 29 Jun 2011 11:12:17 -0400

The Mountain Goats - Raja Vocative

a bird you would’ve liked brought the sky down,
but it was useless to see it without you around.
and in the unstoppable camera of my mind’s eye,
i saw you and some foreign guy.

John Darnielle used to have a rule that he could take no more than one day to finish a song. He would then usually record it within a few minutes. A bunch of those songs he hasn’t played since.

and i could hear you voice ringing.
and i could hear you singing.
from all the way across the country in palm springs,
i can hear you now.

I don’t understand how he gets across so much with so few words. I don’t know how to filter out all the junk swirling around every interesting idea or feeling I have.

your laughter tore through the new jersey night,
and i can’t stand it, but i’m alright.

But John Darnielle, despite his obvious self-awareness, SAYS THINGS. Just like that.

stood out on the balcony and i took a look around
and a bird you would’ve loved the sight of
brought the sky down.

I’ve been in my room sick and sweating and drinking tea all day and I can hear one of the two ice cream truck jingles that I’ve heard every day since May and will continue to hear for a few months and every so often I hear the train going by outside and think that I’ll get used to it and wonder if I already am.

and i can hear you voice ringing.
and i can hear you singing.
from all the way across the country in palm springs,
i can hear you now.

I’ve woken up twice tonight because of the pain in my throat despite the nyquil and sleeping pills. Surrounding myself with Iron & Wine and hoping it will pass.

LCD Soundsystem - All My Friends That’s how it startsWe go...

Mon, 27 Jun 2011 10:10:47 -0400

LCD Soundsystem - All My Friends

That’s how it starts
We go back to your house
We check the charts
And start to figure it out

If this blog is supposed to be proving anything about my unique and diverse musical tastes, it is failing terribly. I’ll give you a hint: I usually pick these songs based on whatever I listened to that day that inspired an intense combination of emotions and memories. This usually doesn’t involve bands no one has ever heard before.

And if it’s crowded, all the better
Because we know we’re gonna be up late
But if you’re worried about the weather
Then you picked the wrong place to stay
That’s how it starts

Tonight is one of those Saturday nights where I sit at home doing nothing. I am bad at doing nothing. That’s why I live here, so this problem doesn’t present itself frequently. Something I’ve been doing since high school to combat the boredom and depression that comes after a few hours of being on my own is watching Youtube videos of concerts I’ve attended. I just watched the video of this song from the night I saw it a few months ago at Terminal 5. Those three hours are a blur of lights and sweat and dancing but I can remember grabbing my friends shoulders as we screamed the chorus into each others’ faces, which was made more poignant by the fact that they’d flown from California to visit me that week. The other 5,000 people in attendance were having a similar experience.

And so it starts
You switch the engine on
We set controls for the heart of the sun
One of the ways we show our age
And if the sun comes up, if the sun comes up, if the sun comes up
And I still don’t wanna stagger home
Then it’s the memory of our betters
That are keeping us on our feet

It’s almost unbelievable that no one had written this song before he did. There are so many love songs, but none (in recent memory) that address something so basic and universal? I can imagine James Murphy looking back on the lyrics to his song that means so much to so many people he’s never met, and regretting a line or word here or there. But it really doesn’t matter once you get to the end.

You spent the first five years trying to get with the plan
And the next five years trying to be with your friends again
You’re talking 45 turns just as fast as you can
Yeah, I know it gets tired, but it’s better when we pretend

Last night I finally got in bed with one of my best friends when the sun was starting to come up. We talked until 6 am.

It comes apart
The way it does in bad films
Except in parts
When the moral kicks in
Though when we’re running out of the drugs
And the conversation’s winding away
I wouldn’t trade one stupid decision
For another five years of life

You drop the first ten years just as fast as you can
And the next ten people who are trying to be polite
When you’re blowing eighty-five days in the middle of France
Yeah, I know it gets tired only where are your friends tonight

And to tell the truth
Oh, this could be the last time
So here we go
Like a sales force into the night
And if I made a fool, if I made a fool, if I made a fool
on the road, there’s always this
And if I’m sewn into submission
I can still come home to this

And with a face like a dad and a laughable stand
You can sleep on the plane or review what you said
When you’re drunk and the kids leave impossible tasks
You think over and over, “hey, I’m finally dead.”
Oh, if the trip and the plan come apart in your hand
Tou look contorted on yourself your ridiculous prop
You forgot what you meant when you read what you said
And you always knew you were tired, but then
Where are your friends tonight

I ended up watching an adorable French movie on Netflix called When The Sea Rises. I could see how the movie would go, but that didn’t make it any less charming.

Where are your friends tonight
Where are your friends tonight

If I could see all my friends tonight

Beirut - Elephant Gun If I was young, I’d flee this...

Sat, 25 Jun 2011 15:17:45 -0400

Beirut - Elephant Gun

If I was young, I’d flee this town
I’d bury my dreams underground
As did I, we drink to die, we drink tonight

This is still sort of the best song ever. Aside from Postcards, it’s what I think captures everything you need to know about Beirut.

Far from home, elephant gun
Let’s take them down one by one
We’ll lay it down, it’s not been found, it’s not around

My junior year of high school, my friend told me she was thinking of seeing this band in a small venue in San Francisco the next week. I’d heard of them through my preliminary exploration of internet music culture, but “Eastern European influences” only conjured for me the klezmer band that performed at my bat mitzvah and sitting through local “folk music” concerts with my parents.

Let the seasons begin - it rolls right on
Let the seasons begin - take the big game down

Zach Condon was 19 when he self-recorded his first album. I was young enough at the time that to feel it was an unacceptable but fantasy-worthy age gap. In a few years, I thought, it would be insignificant. I must have watched every Take Away Show at least ten times.

Let the seasons begin - it rolls right on
Let the seasons begin - take the big game down

This song and its video also represented something else I longed for; a ragged bohemian grandeur that was severely lacking in my daily teenage existence. My friend, and her friend, who were both as obsessed as me, planned a “Beirut Party.” It took about six months to come to fruition, and consisted of us, and a few other friends who had never heard the band, drinking terrible vodka and red wine in my friend’s empty house while we listened to the Beirut discography. The night ended with us covering Neutral Milk Hotel on ukulele and melodica in the bathroom and Grizzly Bear on guitar on the kitchen floor. I had never felt so cool.

And it rips through the silence of our camp at night
And it rips through the night

The first time I saw him was magical. My heart actually lept into my throat when he came onstage to tune his ukulele (the band was the reason I started playing the instrument myself, when a boy who represented much the same thing to me that Zach himself did taught me to play Postcards From Italy). The crowd left their seats for the encore of The Gulag Orkestar and it couldn’t have been more perfect.

And it rips through the silence of our camp at night
And it rips through the silence, all that is left is all that I hide

My friends dissappeared for a few minutes after the show. When they rematerialized they told me they’d met him. The friend of a friend, who has since dated members of YACHT and is probably the least interesting person I know, excitedly told me how she had been shivering (probably due to malnutrition) and he had touched her arm out of concern. I nearly hurled my newly purchased concert poster at her obnoxiously hip haircut.

Voxtrot - The Start of Something This time of night I could call...

Thu, 23 Jun 2011 16:48:02 -0400

Voxtrot - The Start of Something

This time of night I could call you up
I’d get angry with athletic ease
Break common laws in twos and threes
If I die clutching your photograph don’t call me boring it’s just cause I like you

Today I discovered the newish online DJing site Turntable.fm. I am afraid I will never get work done again.

Oh, take me on back, take me on back, take me back
To the place where I could feel your heart
Is this the end
Or just the start of something really, really beautiful
Wrapped up and disguised
As something really really ugly?

This is truly one of my favorite songs ever. The feeling it gives me is like driving around the country in the sunshine.

Won’t you…

Come by and see me, I’m a love-letter away
I’d break your name before I’d say:
“I really love you, loved you,”
Now I don’t care if you saw
I watched every inch of film flash across your roman features
And I loved it, loved it

Oh god, I just finished Just Kids. So heartbreaking. After I stopped crying I played Neutral Milk Hotel on ukulele and The Mountain Goats’ Woke Up New on my speakers and ate too many raviolis.

No, I don’t care if…

You think I’m eager to shut your eyes
Well, I’m sorry everybody knows you can’t break me
With your gutter prose
Would you believe it? She sent me a letter
The ring, it nearly weighs her down
She’s got another boy, oh boy

Just heard that Foster the People song. Really, people?

Steady your ears, steady your ears and read my lips
Poetry is not a luxury, it’s how I break this home
And when I’m really ill, won’t you cradle me?
Man is not a noble animal but maybe woman is

I have a rule with this blog. Once I decide on a song for the day I can’t change it. So far, I have frequently regretted the first song I choose. I was feeling like this earlier, but reading the lyrics they mirror pretty well what I’ve been thinking about in the last hour after finishing the book.

Remember, I heard you…

Inside your room you said:
“You never really live until your back’s against the wall,”
Oh, did you really mean it?
No, I never break my gaze, if just to see the scar
Remain reflected in your eyes
I think it’s time to go home

Oh, tell me your thoughts
Tell me your thoughts on liberty
See there’s a place where I sink to sleeping
She said:
“Oh, my vote is as red as my blood,”
Will you join me for another round?
I haven’t had the chance to speak yet

Godspeed…

I break the law once every week to feel your touch
What’s a book to you in bed?
Do you feel better? Older?
This just makes me ill
Your name is dripping from my pen
Still, you’re not around to curse
I’ll drop the gun now
I’m still under you

Something inside me shifted since I moved here. Suddenly, I feel creative. I have never felt creative. When I look back at my writing from before it was ok, but it was a lot harder for me. I basically only wrote at emotional low points. Living here draws it out of me. I feel my brain working faster, making more connections than it ever has before. I talk more and I have more things to say.

Marianne, let the ghosts sleep tonight
Marianne, let the ghosts sleep
Just shut your eyes, burn the past

I have enough songs (or lyrics) for an EP. I want to try to make it.

Marianne, let the ghosts sleep tonight
Marianne, let the ghosts sleep
Just shut your eyes and burn the past away

Wolf Parade - I’ll Believe In Anything Give me your eyesI...

Wed, 22 Jun 2011 11:08:47 -0400

Wolf Parade - I’ll Believe In Anything

Give me your eyes
I need sunshine
Give me your eyes
I need sunshine
Your blood, your bones
Your voice, and your ghost

This song is endlessly quotable.

We’ve both been very brave
Walk around with both legs
Wait for the scary day
We both pull the tricks out of our sleeves

Kind of ashamed to admit it, but I didn’t hear this album until about two years ago. I’ve been a Sunset Rubdown fan for at least 4 years or so but I’d never gotten into WP. There are actually quite a few huge indie bands I got into after everyone kind of took them for granted. Arcade Fire are the obvious example.

But I’ll believe in anything
And you’ll believe in anything
Said I’ll believe in anything
And you’ll believe in anything

If I can really make a career of shmoozing website people while drinking free alcohol, I am pretty much fine with that.

If I could take the fire out from the wire
I’d share a life and you’d share a life
If I could take the fire out from the wire
I’d share a life and you’d share a life
If I could take the fire out from the wire
I’d take you where nobody knows you
And nobody gives a damn
Said nobody knows you
And nobody gives a damn

Honestly, in the last year, my listening ratio between Robyn and all other artists is prob approximately 1:1.

And I could take another hit for you
And I could take away your trips from you
And I could take away the salt from your eyes
And take away the spitting salt in you
And I could give you my apologies
By handing over my neologies
And I could take away the shaking knees
And I could give you all the olive trees
Oh look at the trees and look at my face
And look at a place far away from here

So give me your eyes
I need sunshine
Give me your eyes
I need sunshine
Your blood, your bones
Your voice, and your ghost

We’ve both been very brave
Walk around with both legs
Wait for the scary day
We both pull the tricks out of our sleeves

But I’ll believe in anything
And you’ll believe in anything

I’m trying.

If I could take the fire out from the wire
I’d share a life and you’d share a life
If I could take the fire out from the wire
I’d share a life and you’d share a life
If I could take the fire out from the wire
I’d take you where nobody knows you
And nobody gives a damn
I said nobody knows you
And nobody gives a damn

I said nobody knows you
And nobody gives a damn either way
About your blood, your bones
Your voice, and your ghost
Because nobody knows you
And nobody gives a damn either way

My drunk roommate invites me on the terrace to smoke a cigarette and I’m not nearly inebriated enough to do so. I brush my teeth while she sings along to the Pixies loudly and out of key.

And now I’ll believe in anything
You’ll believe in anything
Because nobody knows you
And nobody gives a damn anyway

Patrick Wolf - Paris It was seven in the morning when the...

Tue, 21 Jun 2011 10:33:43 -0400

Patrick Wolf - Paris

It was seven in the morning when the spark
began to give. the bath was spilling over, my
self pity spilling with it, so i, i fled the country
to start it all again and found myself in paris in
the cemetery rain.

I can’t believe he was so young when he wrote this album.

dear anne came to me and took me by the arm
showed me old disasters embedded in the palm
warned me of a lady with the sun behind her head.
with a a granite neck, a singer who can never sing
again. but you, my love:

you must come, come to joy, turn your head to the sun
its down to you, you can shine, you can shake all the
sorrow from your palm.. its down to you if you dare
to come to joy.

I’ve read more than half of Just Kids in the last day. It makes me think about the lack of willingness we have today to put ourselves in danger. I don’t know anyone who is living on the street or starving to make art.

what was it i ran from, what burnt away inside?
four hundred schoolboys and a lawyer at my side
always running with these legs going nowhere
a ghost in the system, and angel on the stairs…
but oh! this time….

I stopped keeping up with the news, basically. I just feel like it’s so far gone there is little point in caring. Sure, I’ll vote, and the coming election might inspire me to care a little bit. But everything that happens just reinforces how out of touch everyone in politics is, how little they care about the things they’re supposed to care about, how not liberal “liberals” are. Really, I don’t care anymore. I am just going to try to fight for compassion and understanding the best I can, in whatever ways I think might work. I can’t bring myself to invest too much time or energy in a field that is completely devoid of them.

i shall turn, turn my head to the sun..
they are marching out of me.. one by one
walking free. oh! theyre going out of….
oh! i can feel it moving, this time i’m really moving.
are you ready to come, come to joy well its really down to
you if you dare to enjoy… its down to you… hold the key
in your hands.. it’s all in the palm of your hands.