Numbers are So Cool

Everything has a neat name. Everything has cache. Especially if you use the number of it. Like me. I'm No. 1. Or my apartment address is #10. We're a 10. Get it?

I finally saw Gang Gang Dance tonight. I wasn't expecting a dance party like they gave. I felt like I was in New York. I've never been. I also wasn't poorly affected by the young age of most of the audience and actually really enjoyed a lot of the sincerity I saw from them. They weren't so indie rock. They were artsy punk and having a lot of fun. Hooray! Cool shoes.

Gang Gang Dance have not sold out at this hour. This was a thought I had. Did I miss their heydey? Would the cool kids not be there because they've already seen it all? GGD has something out on Warp now but I don't know if they're a Warp band for keeps. But their funk would have me think so.

Drums, guitar, keys, samplers, drum pads, loops, two drums for the singer and a tip of my hat for Ari Up meets Nina Hagen on the dance floor. They covered an MBV song too. Holy Shit. I turned aghast to Ahn, first afraid of a blatant rip off of "I Only Said"'s opening trill. Then the similarity didn't end and we agreed - it was a cover. I always used MBV as part of my Gang Gang Dance description.

Sick Of It All.

Opened the latest Spaceland Blast eMail - this covers Spaceland (hardly go to anymore), The Echo, Echoplex and others. But mostly those tres L.A. nightlife hot spots.

Every time I am disturbed with something, there's always another something reviling within me first.

Fine. I know.

So anyways... I open the eMail and there they are, staring back at me - lackadaisical and scruffy, relationship challenged for both intimate and general social betterment, politically well read for current propositions, beer drinkers. I think I have an attitude problem.

Actually, I know I do.

But truly. Move me to the farm. I just want to make art. Aye! There's the rub.

Open this post and here I am, starting back at you - bitchy, opinionated, breathless in a state of perpetual chafe, relationship challenged for both intimate and general social betterment, well read in all politics.

Every Friday and Saturday Night...

I'll just say one thing, God is good. Miriam Makeba died on stage singing and singing Pata Pata.

When I was probably 10 I found my dad's copy of Miriam Makeba's first album. Lucky little girl to find this spirit of Miriam Makeba's sweet foreign sound. After I discovered Miriam, it was years before I would consider a spin with her husband Hugh Masekela's LP. How could he compare? Would I dance around and sing like that? Hard to consider that from a trumpeter. But that was the humor and dedication. Couldn't risk missing listening to her.

I sang along with no idea what I was saying. She was just so groovy and it was so good. She had joy. She makes you discover that a wiggle is a dance and your smile is your groove.

The song that got me the most was The Click Song. I loved her introduction explaining the click was referring to her dialect. But what I loved the most was how she belted out those last notes, so loud and full. She chimes and resonates like jubilant honey. You swear you're living for real now. You have discovered bliss. You've discovered heaven on earth.

The Garden of Earthly Delights

Chris' new job - The Thirty Meter Telescope.

That's a big telescope. He actually worked on some of the designs a few years back. The Canadians took it, didn't do much so he's going to do it again. Here's what they say: "A 30-meter telescope, operating in wavelengths ranging from the ultraviolet to the mid-infrared, is an essential tool to address questions in astronomy ranging from understanding star and planet formation to unraveling the history of galaxies and the development of large-scale structure in the universe. The 30-meter aperture permits the telescope to focus more sharply than smaller telescopes by using the power of diffraction of light. The large aperture also collects more light than smaller scopes, allowing images of fainter objects. TMT will therefore reach further and see more clearly than previous telescopes by a factor of 10 to 100 depending on the observation."

Dig? Word.

I like the new telescope project. Now Chris wants to go to camping possibly so we can enjoy the starry sky he's building to. I love to camp.


So bailout the car companies - they are too big to let drop. BUT they must Go Green. Create jobs by creating Green Jobs. Same thing as when we made military ships during Truman but now we're Green and peaceful.

Swimming Pool

I dreamt I swam in my new pool. I swam poorly but in reality I am a fish. I dove and kept cruising right to the bottom. Couldn't find my swimsuit then *BLING*, a Magic Dream Swimsuit appeared. A one piece.

After the winds die down I hope it's warm enough at least to enjoy some laps in it. It's so small, I hope I can make a lap in it. Its safety insurance bars are annoying and funny looking. But I want to swim in it still.



I dreamt that a bag lady started yelling at me, trying to freak me out. I wasn't having it. She didn't know I wasn't the one to pull that shit on. She got it.

So that was weird and so was diving to the pool in my Magic Dream Swimsuit. Do you ever think about what Hilary Clinton dreamt of after Sarah Palin got on the McCain ticket? I mean the symbolism driven by so much depression, anger, pride and fear must've been so juicy.

Loosing My Mind.

Just am.

Let's See How This Goes...

On Friday I'll be burying a friend. Carol Rozio. Carol von Spreken. Carol was my first best friend and we spent every day together during our childhood. We met in Kindergarten. I would follow whatever she did, well in my mind or not. Especially for the time and place of our friendship, Carol was a dear friend. I hadn't seen her in years but I knew a year and a half ago that she had cancer and that it was serious.

The past couple weeks I learned just how serious it was. She was absolutely attacked by cancer. I had no idea of the level the shit was eating at her. I cried for her pain, her husband and her two year old. Her husband was with Carol to the very last moment of her life. She was 36. Thank God he could ease some of her pain. Someday I hope the profundity of his love from his presence there will give him solace in his grieving. I hope it can give him joy that he was able to experience such a love.

I woke up Monday morning with a very fresh dream of Carol in my mind. It felt like we were really together. She didn't want me to see her in her deterioration but I let her know it was OK and she became beautiful. Then we just sort of hung out. Did some stuff. You know... it was nice. I woke up thinking, "Did it happen?" I thought she was OK. I learned a couple hours later that she did die that morning. I was tremendously grateful for my dream with her.

Friday is the memorial. It's worked out perfectly that I can go with who I want to and when I want to. There's nothing like being there for Carol.

Here we are on a trip to Balboa Island when we were probably 11 or 12. She's the dorky blonde on the end. She turned out anything but dorky.

Mochi Ice Icream.

Love it so much. It's perfect.

You get bread and ice cream. Better though, as we all know, it's ice cream that's not too creamy and bread that doesn't need butter. It's the most ideal container for cold flavor.



I love it. It's been decided. It's my favorite food.

Feeling Groovy.

K.

Slept. Ate. Slept. Slept. Talked to some friends. Laughed. Not so bad. Not at all. I let myself get way out of hand. I want to congratulate Chris on making it through his first pledge drive. And afterwards to celebrate both of us finishing tremendous work projects, Chris took me to Pace.



Pace is a restaurant in Laurel Canyon. This is a part of town I would love to live in with former residents Joni Mitchell, Jackson Browne, Carole King, etc. landing there first. I often think of Laurel Canyon as the Echo Park and Silverlake of today and imagine my friends all playing and hanging out there then like they do now. I also wonder, did it cost a fortune to live there then like it does there now? Was it the Echo Park of L.A.? Cheap and unappealing but after their coolness tagged the property, did rates rise? I don't know. But for a long while I fantasized about what Pace was like on the inside. What could this woodsy, L.A. bohemian nook be like? It's pronounced, "PAH-chey," and translates to Peace. Ironically, or with naivete, I didn't realize that it was an L.A. hotspot, a place to be, a place to be seen and in the know. Or at least that's what the internet paparazzi shots are showing.

We looked very pretty. It scared me. But that's just my neurosis. Yep. But I like it. Looking pretty. Especially with Chris. And in summary, we're dining out more. It's good for us. Or not! Not important. We just like going out.

Soundtrack A+! Food... OK. B? Not so sure. The chocolate sauce was good. Next trip is the italian place in the mini-mall off Melrose. Lou's. Yum.

NorthSouthEastWest

Worse.

Grand Innocence

What will I do when I don't have this job anymore? My blood feels sick. Poisoned. I've got that thing with trouble breathing, can't sleep enough so I'm over tired and can't figure out how to stop it all so I can sleep. It seems once this pledge drive is over, another will be right there and someone will be there to complain that they don't like or agree with a decision of mine and they are all million dollar decisions because we're putting on these two million dollar drives.

I've been riding my bike more to compensate for the lack of motion I've been exercising these past couple months.

I really need to expand my personal world view from grandiosity to innocence.

Feeling Groovy.

Today I looked at my stacks and piles of books. I read some Robert Bly. I moved Harry Potter over so I could see what the big one under it was. I couldn't remember.

"Oh yeah." It's Emerson. I wanted to read Emerson after our last hike. The hike where I thought I might have asthma.

I was just anaerobically exercising. I want a buff heart.

I might be suffering from anxiety. Not so sure. I haven't been breathing much I guess, and I've been focusing on minutiae quite a bit lately. But that's because it makes me feel good and I can't remember what I was doing anyway. "It's the little things in life." But my mind! Sharp as a tick! Tack?

Who cares about another 40 CDs?

When I saw Emerson I felt good.

My stacks and piles of books, made me feel good.

Here, There and Everywhere

It has been way too long.

I've had to take work home (including over the birthday San Francisco trip) and any free time has been taken up with creating an orientation slideshow. I'll be sure to share that with you all later.

San Francisco with Chris can be summed up with Coit Tower and 7PM Dim Sum as seen here:


There were also the dozen, long-stemmed red roses delivered to the house we were staying at on the Saturday which was my birthday from my rad boyfriend Bubbie.

There was also the Berkeley Morris Dancers that showed up at Sutro's Bath House around birthday day (Summer Solstice - brings the weirdos out). It was the unseasonably hottest day on record since 1973 in San Francisco. It was indeed this troupe:


We saw Seun Kuti and Egypt 80 in Stern Grove, amongst a forrest of Redwoods and hippie nymphs.

Devendra Barnhart wished me a happy birthday at the Hollywood Bowl. That went like this, "Happy Birthday Laura..."
I think, "That actually sounded pretty." "Ha! OK guys. Thanks!" We all laughed. Chris, Maura, Tracy and I in our box at the Bowl. Tickets I got from work. I did play the birthday card but... Devendra doesn't know that (or me). But we all laughed, "Of course it's me. There's no other Laura." I imagined Laura was some slightly trust-fundy psuedo-Hippie chick sitting backstage, getting ready for some fun.

I get a text, "THAT WAS SO COOL! WHERE ARE YOUR SEATS GIRL?!"
Who the hell is this? I don't know who this text is, "Maura - Do you recognize this phone number?" She must get a kick out of me sometimes.
"Center box, back. Who is this? Where are you?"
Long awesome story short - IT WAS ME! I'M LAURA!
Ariana arranged it for me and the texter was my boss. They were up in the Garden Boxes. I fuhreeeeked out as damage to Chris' squeezed fingers would prove. My dreaming began. I decided that the Hippie Chick Laura was more of a Bohemian now. At the end of Devendra's performance he wished me well again, this time in both English and Spanish and I jumped, "I'M LAURA!" Felt pretty bomb kids.

Maura also talked about some of the work she's begun with her position as Music Director at KSCR, including having The Wedding Present come in. Not surprised by this but so happy she's doing it. Read up, pay attention, follow along and know that you knew her when.

I played softball. I'm as surprised as you. I'm sorry but there are no pictures to prove this. However, I was sore for the running as I am a powerhitter (I'm as surprised as you) and I got a run + second base. And now I've begun running with Chris. We want to improve for softball and I'll need to begin training for the Amazing Race.

4th of July: We rode our bikes at breakneck speed to catch the fireworks last night and followed it up with a midnight viewing of Wall-E.

I think we're caught up.

Southwest Like a Cow...

But we're happy we'll be together. The youth is not wasted on the young.

A little stalling, a little writing. I'm folding warm and cold clothes again to trip up to San Francisco for five days. This time I'll bring Chris with me. Last time I was there, he was promising an eMail and photos of his machine and now I can show him the bed I was sleeping in when his eMail arrived. I am that cheesy and I am that excited. These same hosts are letting us crash at their place while they travel to the Terrastock Festival I was writing about then too.

If I had any idea then what I know now today I wouldn't want to know it because the discovery has been so rad.

I'll also be turning 37 on the first day of Summer this Saturday.



We'll be seeing Seun Kuti (that is "Kuti" as one of Fela's 30,000. I joke, but you know...) and I'll be able to meet a label friend I've made from my new responsibilities at KCRW.

We're going to sleep a lot and work a little. Unfortunately, we just have to do that. But I'm also going to show him my treasured Philz Coffee. Oh God. Philz.

And I'm only bringing the one Harry Potter.

Swervedriver Sans Tonic

Right now I am demanding this moment to sit. Who's my oppressor? Who won't let me go?

Hi! Me. Man am I tired. I might just be really hungry... I don't really know. But dinner's gonna be good and cheesy tonight.

And you?

I went to Swervedriver this weekend. I argued with Chris, "NoNoNooNooNoNo. The recordings you're hearing just aren't demonstrating how saturating their guitars can be. How overwhelming and thick they lay their six strings down. Blankets of distortion warm you with chimey fragrance. Oh yes. You just don't know. Let's go to this semi-pricey event and I'll show you when you see them play for yourself. RaaavVEEeee Down. Hit the ground. Rock on!"

How do you handle the realization when a band you really loved doesn't sound like that band anymore?

"They don't have The 'Ness." Huh? OhMyGod. I panicked. I "dated" a guy who was in The Ness. What are you talking about? Chris continues, "Laura, so much of what you play me is so awesome and I really like the stuff. Swervedriver just sounds like an L.A. rock band. Oh yeah, you're really hot and I think you're very smart." OK. So maybe I embellished his comments and added that last bit, but what was said about Swervedriver was said and I argued with Chris regarding his assumptive stated Swervedriver facts. "Whatever Chris. WhaTTTEVVVer. You like '80s Rush." I probably did say that but I think his taste in '80s Rush is cute. Oh yeah. I like Moving Pictures too myself.

Swervedriver has become an L.A. Rock Band.

OHMYGOD! FUCK! NO. No. Impossible. Impossible that my taste in the early '90s was so unsophisticated. Isn't it? Come on. This is bad. They are... they are... they are boring me.

But it wasn't a good scene. I knew something was wrong as soon as we arrived.

We entered the hall. Henry Fonda Theatre. Looked like they blocked off the balcony - didn't want the crowd to appear too thin when people chose to wander upstairs so they could SIT through the rock show. And the crowd? Oh wow. I knew we wouldn't be enjoying cocktails at MENSA but this was like a Filter Magazine showcase at Spaceland. Sorry. That's somewhat of an L.A. joke.

I'll try this. "Oh shit! It's an early '90s underground L.A. rock band reunion show! What have I done?!"

Chris and I wandered upstairs outside. The mix was better and we could discuss what was happening. I needed help then. I felt so cold.

"But they were on Creation."
"I know Laura."
We stared out to Sunset Boulevard, holding each other, dreaming of a city with proper public transportation and sustainable vegetation support. Later we drove into the hills.

Hey Bo Diddley

It's when those bigger-than-life spirits stop and go away that life becomes confusing and at the same time so amazing.
With the little ball and bag of bones that he was given, he made himself to be Bo Diddley.

ClusterFUCK

It was in 1996 - '97 I met Ben Knight and his girlfriend now wife, Kristina. Ben became a very significant and important vinyl partner. Attracted and drawn to him first by his strange KXLU radio show, Mirrored Audio Parkways, I liked him and his radio partner (a short-lived boyfriend who quickly became an ex a few months later). We bonded over our love of Pavement, Velvet Underground, pop music and vinyl. Their show reminded me of my friends from San Francisco. We enjoyed discovering the intuitive lineage of any good music. For us '97 was the introduction of groovy '60s Brazilian music and the bizarre, psychedelic, outer space soundscapes of formidable Krautrock.

We used Julian Cope's brilliant music survey, "Krautrock Sampler," for proper genre schooling and guidance of Julian's keen insights. We talked about Moebius and Roedelius.

I saw Cluster last Thursday. I almost missed them. I had trouble making out the advertisement from dublab's eMail update. Fortunately, Chris came through, telling me about a cool gig at the outdoor art gallery Farmlab, also located beneath a freeway bridge near Chinatown and Downtown L.A. He bought the tickets and we got to hang out a day earlier in our schedule too. Totally rad.



Keeping each other warm, we wandered the outdoor space, kissing under stars and watching trains roll by. Mi Ami played No-Wave Post Punk guitars and I noted to Chris to talk to him about the Contortions. Cluster then set up in front of a concrete stage - the base of a bridge. There they stood. Chris and I were the first seated in the front. Aside from keeping each other warm, the only real benefit to sitting on the cold concrete floor was how well we could enjoy the blue-green LED lights that turned the black sky yellow. I wish I had a photo of that.

They played in front of this illumination:


And they totally sounded like this:


What we heard were mostly ambient sounds and keyboard pulsations. Something like a Medieval gait in outer space. Their music was gentle. Their presence was the same. Dieter Moebius mostly tended to the LED curves of what we later learned to be their mixer, probably balancing between the MicroKorg and ...I'll have to ask Chris again what the other keys were. Not much structure ever seemed to evolve but that was the balance they orchestrated. That's what we came for.

Towards the end, it hit me, "Fuck. That's Cluster."

People Say I'm You.

Less coffee. Less Diet Coke. Never thought I'd see the day but I must or I'll never sleep again. I know I'm giving up my chance for postmortem self-preservation but let's not be greedy. More music. More sports. Lots of happiness. Enjoying contentment.

Writing. Music. Inspiration. That's nice. Remembering the optimism of 18. Yes... 18. 13 wasn't much fun. Late bloomer, I found something once I got over it. I believe even the lawyers refer to the flora as Emancipation. Sounds like something from Calvin Klein. But only if you say it as a whisper. A joke then, a joke now. Don't say it as a whisper. Shout it from the roof tops! You're emancipated People! Move!

So maybe here's this:

Walk to work while walking to school. Listening to Estelle and Kanye and they've already lost their fresh. My Top 40 Faves usually do. Good thing there's always another one in an hour to take the sad one's newly worn place. Can't wait to hear them! I'm also excited for the J. Spaceman and Sun City Girls I just got from work. That's longevity. The optimism of 18.

I also met Janeane Garafalo at work last week. After so many years, Janeane is not a mirror. But we are kin. We are. "Personality." That's all I could say to her. "Personality." "People say I'm you."

Personality.

"Honey, You Got Any Tums?"

I met a nice young man a couple months ago. He said to me, "I play bass, but I'm really an engineer."

Oh cool. I like sound. I like to play around with engineer things too.

But then he corrected himself...

"I mean I'm a Mechanical Engineer. I work at CALTECH."

Wha'?

"You make things?"

"Yep." He smiled. But he was innocent. He didn't understand the implication of his career upon my fantastical nature.

Then The Wooden Shjips started. For 30 minutes I enjoyed the psychedelics as well as the fantasy about what kind of fingers this CALTECH Alumnus / Mechanical Engineer cum bass player might have. And most importantly - would he be asking me for my number?!!!

Smarter than the average bear, he asked me for my number and my eMail, "Oh good! I can write to him!" Many of you know, I like to write. I especially like to write at you.

"Thanks! I'll eMail you some pictures of the machine I'm working on once I get to Louisiana." He was going to Louisiana very early the next morning. It was time to assemble the LIGO's optical something-or-other. I think it was a part of the Interferometer that's measuring gravitational waves from outer space on a theory. Um... All I know is he did send me the pictures and I love to listen to him teach me about it today. I also enjoy thanking him for the contribution he's making towards Mankind. Grandiose of me but it is a kind gesture on his part.

We talk about Mr. Feynman and he showed me where his image was added to a mural in the dorm he lived in years ago.

He got me flowers on his birthday. He wears a knit cap when it's cold but for baseball he's got a Dodgers cap - even though he's from Kansas City.



We like to go to the Ball Park and sit in Row W. And stuff.

Current Events.

So happy :)

My Boyfriend Stephen Malkmus. I Love Him...

This new album, Real Emotional Trash, is the best he's done and I'm excited about our upcoming nuptials.

"... and radio music. That still exists. There's Mudvayne, Nickelback—radio music for people who don't love music, but like music. It's still there."

I love him. Such a genius player. And he's got fingers for days...

Bits from messages as I moved press across the virtual freeways:
Old men shouldn't be screaming but if I ever hear Fillmore Jive live again, I'm stripping naked then and there. Fillmore Jive was one of the only Pavement songs I ever made an effort to learn the name of. I felt it was important for live performances or when communicating with others regarding what I love.

Best interview... just wit wit wit for days. Not even wit. Thought. Lingual pattern to elicit the ineffable and kisses from fans.

The full interview is here.

The closing dialogue just rips me to shreds.

But of current events... What to do? Tortured by kindness and frustrated by systemic differences. Not postures, even though assumed as such. Ay. There's the rub.

The Five Minute War

Things move so much faster now that we have the internet.

Civil unrest breaks out after Republican presidential nominee, John McCain is determined to be the winner. Lied to again, America is exhausted and a war is sought upon the White House. The experience with Gore will never be forgotten. Obvious before, America can't risk apathy one more time. We're losing our houses over it and can't drive to work anymore. With the furor that bees take to defending their hives, the people of America destroy the White House. It would take no more than five minutes.


I saw the following show last night at The Smell, "Perhaps you've heard of our pal Lucas Abela from Sydney? Among many things, he performs as Justice Yeldham, playing an amplified broken glass pane with his face.... mm hmm, wacky stuff." Words and sentiment only Professor Cantaloupe could communicate. Wacky stuff indeed. Mr. Yeldham yelled into the pane allowing the audience to see that funny G-Force face like in the Air Force training movies from the '50s. A horrible, shrill grumble of feedback is produced. I begin purring like a kitten.

The pane at first is roughly 3-1/2' long. As the performance continues, spit collects and is easily visible to the audience. We watch him lick, scream and blow all over the glass. He breaks it over his head. His lip curls over the top and finally blood starts from his left cheek. I feel horror and look around, "I hope you jaded sons-of-bitches are really freaked out right now." I'd be so sad if we wouldn't allow ourselves the real experience of Justice Yeldham - if our lives, our childhoods were so fucked up that we couldn't let escape our fear, compassion and disgust for something so disgusting. When he's done, applaud the fuck out of his performance.

Kristof said he wasn't into it. I think he said he didn't appreciate shock value for art. I thought and responded that I felt it might be much more than a spectacle. Like he was screaming, "This is my mother! My father! It has become my World!" Being on stage is part of the extremity of the angst. To be seen. I didn't feel like it was a spectacle for a spectacle. 100%, Justice Yeldham played the glass with his face and mouth and bled and screamed till it was all complete. We weren't paying $5 for, "The Shutter," or "Doomsday" this week. I just hope we all can react sincerely and appropriately. I'm much more positively stimulated by this than the Los Angeles breed of hipster bar bands. Those parent issues are just not for me.

Maura was brilliant as usual, "What if he triggered really neat samples or something." Totally. I'm so proud to be an Aura. That'd be hilarious to hear Spring Swallows or the coos of fair maiden and water nymphs instead. Can you imagine? On stage the geeky, weird kid that licked school bus windows and pressed his gums against the pane was performing with a vengeance while our ears were tickled pink.

Just freaking good anyway. I don't get enough noise in my diet so much anymore.

Sick Day Three... It's Been Awhile

The subscription drive came and went. Before it comes, I disappear. When it comes, I disappear. After it comes, I'm set in my ways and I disappear. And then I went to San Francisco to disappear. Now I want to go back to reappear. I've got a cold and I've disappeared. I go out to disappear.

It's been awhile. I haven't seen my friends in so long. I want to see Yacht tonight. I won't make it. I can't breath out of my nose and I don't really want to be a mouth breather out there. It's hard enough as it is. This cold will keep me local to Venice. Another time.

I only saw Maura when she picked me up from the airport. It was a treat though. I recommend you always have a good friend pick you up from the airport.

I saw Tracy when I gave her the keys to my apartment. She kept my cats entertained during my absence. It was a treat too.

Stefanie put San Francisco into words for me. Fanny writes, "SF is so very different from LA. I could never live down there, because of the cars and the pretty." It was just that. The pretty? In San Francisco I felt normal again. Real as well. The cars? I could use the city. In two days I walked for a total of 10 hours around San Francisco.

I walked from the Mission District to downtown, got on a bus to Golden Gate Park and spent a couple hours walking through that perfect example of public works. I made it to the Inner Sunset where I used to live. I've lived in every San Francisco borough that a college student and newbie work professional could. The next day, I took a two minute BART ride downtown, started through the Tenderloin... turned around... walked up Nob Hill, walked down Nob Hill, walked through North Beach to Coit Tower and back to Kathy at work in downtown.


I'm looking through my pictures.



And with regards to the Autechre show in April, I have just been informed of the following:
It's all hardware.
Specifically "two elektron machindrums and an mpc1000"
The room is pitch black and you only see a red light. Which is Autechre passing a joint back and forth.
I think I have stopped breathing.
I have asked to be buried in that room.

Sick Day Two

I hate being sick.

I hate daytime television. I actually wish I had cable. I would love to watch The Discovery Channel all day long. Pretty pictures. I learned on Oprah yesterday that Benicio Del Toro thinks it's like other planets on earth. Wow. Benicio. You are so... so...

Instead I'm watching commercials discussing some lady's husband's low sperm count. And she's smiling. They both are! Lady! Your husband's a pussy! Literally. And you're talking about it on daytime TV. Oh yeah. I am also challenging the idea that the installers of Empire Carpets are really that good looking. No way. Their crew is picked up every morning on the corner of Sunset and Gower and fashionable smiles are not their forte.

I have received eFlowers from the nice boy from the MidWest because I am sick. Pretty amazing. He comes with no internet personality at all. I find this amazing. No MySpace page! This is good stuff. He is an anomaly. For the purposes of study, I must investigate this most fascinating creature. And also because he's so nice to me.

Wow. Price is Right. Go Women's Lib! Go Equal Rights! One of the Showgirls is pregers. Looks like a good nine months in there. But certainly not the jacuzzi model. Oh no. But it looks like a good nine months UP there. And Drew Carey! The dude is magnanimously underwhelmed. I bet he's getting paid one magnanimous wadload. Isn't that right? Go Drew. I also sense some serious perv. Go Drew. This is the world's stupidest show. I tried to be a contestant on it once. It was closed the one day I went. I use my ticket as a bookmark now as a reminder of what a dork I can be.

I finished Portrait of Dorian Grey. Now I can focus on Ableton again.

Whoopi Goldberg cut her hair. Wow. Bow down to the pressure. I know Whoopi. It's hard. However, I am deciding to really embrace my Tomboyism. After so many years of vintage dresses, I can't put the jeans and cords down. I just can't.

Correction: The View is the world's stupidest show.
Actually, it's a draw.

I am thrilled with the Project Runway winner. A slight pest at times, I'm really impressed. He even shops at my friend's store, Opening Ceremony. Go Owley Patrol.

An update on the teeth. So funny. I've become such a lightweight but last night when rinsing with Listerine (as directed by my hygienist), I nearly passed out. Swear! The alcohol was so much! I guess you're not supposed to drink the whole bottle.

I'm joking!

It was only half.

More later...

My Name Virtually In Lights

My first published review...




Click to dig. It is also in print. Ultimately cutdown to fit but here's the missing materials...

"From an underground scene already regarded as next level productions of second wave musicians incorporating technology to speak for their art and soul, consider Misel Quitno’s music to be a first from a third level.

Classically glorious in ingenuity, more acoustic and less electronic, always a beat… each track blends sounds, clips, warps and tones that amuse, befuddle and warm with technique. It’s mystifying to comprehend how something so strange is so inviting. But Misel Quitno is, and he’s gliding us out on sweet infinite waves."

Next? Wire.

Get Your Pop Rocks Off

Um... whoa. Jim Noir's kinda really cute. I had no idea.



I always thought he was just a doughy Brit.

No.

Can't leave. Not on the most perfect day.

Must find a magazine to work for in San Francisco. Must...

Tu Lan. Go To Tu Lan.

Whenever I learn someone's going to San Francisco, I always say, "Go to Tu Lan. Go to Tu Lan."
They never do. They really should.

When I learn someone's from San Francisco, I like to ask, "Do you love Tu Lan?"
Not many have. But many of my friends are Vegan and Tu Lan is no place for a Vegan.
However, still surprising to me since it's been there so long doing what it does.

Go to Tu Lan...



The best Thai coffee too. The best.

Tuvan Throat Whispering

I made coffee that was too strong this morning. Yes. I did. Making coffee at other people’s houses is difficult. A note should be left or some kind of review made before it’s too late. Mostly before it’s time to make the coffee and the houseguest might be left to fend for their coffee-needing selves. I can't believe I didn't inquire about a review.

I’ve made bitter mud. Two sips. My shit is jacked up.

Went to see Six Organs of Admittance last night. So fun to hang out with Kathy at a show. She talks a lot. No really. Read the depth in the meaning of this sentence. This is Kathy w/ a K fact. But Kathy is genius level so her content is incredibly factual, topical, abundant and a large portion lies so much with good music. She is also 41, which you would not believe if you were to ever see this little girl. But her age tempers her awareness to keep moving with her audience and not just ramble at them. It’s a guided tour. You're often pleasantly entertained by the surprise wrap up of one her details.

But her knowledge was important last night. She wanted to get to the show when the doors opened. We wanted to have good positioning. She and I are very small. Generally, early show arrival includes worrisome hanging out for hours through dull bands and forced dialogue and many fake people. (L.A.?) But since we were hanging out, I was genuinely entertained. I also got to do a lot of looking. Our positioning perched me on a shelf so I was taller than the tallest. I got to live the good tall life for a night. And in San Francisco for crying out loud.

Who knew there were so many faces?

I leaned into Kathy, “Um…there are so many cute boys here.” Referencing “boys” already represents I'm indulging a handicapped perspective. But there were a lot of good looking faces. “I don’t see them.” Kathy was teasing me and stating fact. If I needed to be “down on the scene” (pun intended) there were plenty to choose from. But the truth is and my exxxposing note, “So many. I want to have an orgy.”

But Ben Chasny. I'm focused now. He's moved in around the block from Kathy. He’s personable on stage and self-effacing within his publicity. He makes modal fairy psych music on a guitar. Master of distortion for a tragic mood. He performs a Tuvan Throat Whispering. Fascinating. While singing one vocal, Grimlock, the Evyl Fairy Troll-Wort from the Thrid Level, whispered from deep within his belly.

Then Elisa Ambrogio joined him. She is a heavenly noise goddess. She plays guitar. They screamed six strings for awhile. She is in Magik Markers. I watched her endlessly. I had already noticed her way into I’m A Gun – heavy pummeling alcoholic stoner noiserock – but didn’t realize she would be next to do it. (And better). So then I loved her more.

Chasny played backing riffs to Elisa. The last show of the tour and his pedals gave out. He thought it was his guitar. Total bummer interruptus on my very heated night. They were totally fucking shit up. So much noise. The kind that really reflects your overly sophisticated and well designed internal mood with screaming guitar sound. He was bummed about the mechanics, gave a fuck, fought for it and ended the night on a very high note.

Bought the Limited Edition touresque LP. “What’s this sound like?” “It’s the noisier side.” Great. Here’s my $15. Still hot from the night, I smiled purty at the MerchBoy.

Then we drove out of Potrero Hill and I stared at the city lights. Just like the girl in the hipster car commercials.




Two small girls on the 49 making Googly Eyes.

It's Enough To Be Here.

There's a coffee place in San Francisco (Philz Coffee) that brews one cup at a time. It's dangerous. Most / Everyone says it's just too strong.

Philz' coming to L.A. and has already been interviewed on my work’s Good Food show. I made friends with the owner's son and he gave me a piece of baklava. I’m leaving it for my SF hosts. Must let work know Philz is coming to L.A. Trouble…

I also solved the Chronicle’s Cypher Puzzle over my second cup. It was a quote from Gene Hackman. Funny considering today’s Word-of-the-Day from Dictionary.com. Their sentence: “Unlike important men of affairs, novelists can turn midnight into sunrise and solve nettlesome world problems wherever their imaginations decree.” I was thinking about being a writer of enthuse from a nondescript place of origin. Like Los Angeles.

6 Eye Columbia. Neat.

Papalote. Plus.
St. Francis Fountain. We're worried about David.

White Pee. Countrified Noise Jamboree with a Dr. Sample. Plus.
Holy Kiss. Boo. But the singer doesn't think so. There's something for everyone.

Tomorrow Philz and a walk up the hill. For sure.

Some Things I Excel In. Some Not So Much.

Off to San Francisco today. I expect a lot of sitting in pleasant pastures. 

Real English?
I'm hoping to get all over the city and find some pretty views after enjoying some pleasant walks...
That's the best I can do.

I have to check my bag in. Hair care product alone, I'm not able to keep to the the (2) Bottle of Liquids minimum. Are you fucking kidding me?

Kathy w/ a K

Kathy and Josh came and visited in December. Now I'm going to San Francisco to visit Kathy and Josh.

She left me her 2007 Best Of, "Toof." "Toof" references her missing front tooth that happened last year. She's getting it fixed.

I met Kathy at KUSF in the very early '90s. "Nevermind" had just come out. A few years before, Kathy's ex was the original label to first put out "Bleach." "Alternative" things we're very big. Kathy knew so much about music and I was amazed. I was dried up on VU, grunge and dub and really needed some serious musical guidance. So she and they began to show me everything. AMM, Uncle Tupelo, Caroliner Rainbow, The Monks, even Nick Drake... I was barely 21. I began private repeated listenings of "The Battle of El Goodo." Commonplace today, but these were all first told to me when nothing else like them were ever discussed before. I needed to hear them. Exactly those and just right then. Somehow I knew they existed. Etched into my mind, I can still see Eric as Music Director in the Music Meetings holding up, "The Mummies." I thought, "These are really important bands Laura. Pay attention." Shit I did. And then Eric would laugh about just what the fuck these bands were doing. We all loved it. Sometimes Eric and I would play music together. Mostly Neil Young. When Eric wore his Jandek shirt to the SF Jandek show, people asked who that was on his shirt.

So "Toof." Just the name alone makes me laugh for Kathy. She's tough as nails, breaks just like a little girl, loved Lennon. She was the girl in New Orleans who wore the black arm band when he was shot.

There's a Bright Eyes song titled Kathy w/ a K. It's her. She was first to tour manage him. She worried about how fragile and nervous he was, how he always sounded like he was going to break - which made her laugh - and now he's become a big-time (ahem)... heartthrob. Anyway, Kathy w/ a K always says things like, "A classic if ever there was one," and was the first to tell me about Lester Bangs. She's Southern polite and Brooklyn smart. She's incredibly petite, dresses in Converse, grandpa sweaters and wears wingtips for dress-up. I am amazed when she considers me a "girlie" friend and we share fashion tips and advise. She's been quitting smoking for years but presently smokes American Spirit Blue - an improvement from Camel Filterless (or whatever cigarette she would tear the filter off of). She loves bunnies and Winnie the Pooh. She'll give you socks for presents because she loves socks so much. My cashmere argyle are still a favorite. The recent pink and black striped thigh-highs are somewhat befuddling but I'm way down for them. Kathy would always pull some kind of sexy girl thing out - in Converse high-tops. But she always got her man: The smart music geek that had social disorders. That's what you get when you love song so much and you're as smart as shit like Kathy is. So Josh is her gem. He actually talks to her friends. Like me. He's even picking me up at the airport. We've reviewed going keyboard shopping during the week and he'll probably comment on how I need more RAM - my computer is coming with me. He's right.

Now she works for the Tenants Rights Union of San Francisco. For her, a dream job. This is after working for Homestead Records, booking folkprogrock festivals, bringing Ghost to America, Bevis Frond, Windy & Carl, Glenn Jones - and I'm totally blanking on everyone else. These are the Go-Tos. Obviously.

So to get her 2007 Best Of? I get excited for her lists. I still have the Best Of 2006 eMail saved in my Yahoo account.

Her notes open (centered as shown and in an Excel document):

"of course I wrote this brilliant thing about the How of listening changing the What, listening on the ipod, listening on the commute, not listening as often to complex long beautiful comtemplative [sic] stuff like richard bishop or william parker, not this time, not this year, not that I didn't, but rather I didn't all the time, what dominated was the commute ipod song not the challenging but rewarding, not the albums... then I accidentally deleted it. sorry."

I love that, "not the challenging but rewarding". Good shit Kathy.

I miss her complex comtemplative educational bits on this one. But still I'm listening to her show and I'm reading her notes. She's on the air to me. It rocks like the only person to talk about Lime Spiders to me would. She loves songs with energy and excitement. Passionate sincerity that seems melodramatic but it's just the point and I liken it to the true loyalty she gives to her friends. Like the pop-punk-not-trash-futility of Ted Leo & the Pharmacists. Think about just their name alone. Pharmacists. That's not for kids.

I don't doubt any of us who get a copy of "Toof" aren't thrilled to have it. It's the Kathy w/ a K show.

I'll close with her LCD Soundsystem comment (I tell you, I was surprised to see they made it, but LCD is way good music, she knows a good song and after reading her notes, I at least knew it was Kathy): "one of those singles-things: the album was way too... modern(?) for me". The song she listed? "All My Friends." Aside from the sentimental connotation this song has when reminiscing about an old friend, the lyrics had already reminded me so much of Kathy. The beginning... the part all about astrological charts and sex? That part is so Kathy w/ a K.

Good stuff.

Ditching On Campus. A Pop-Up Post.

I’m at work practicing my backstroke.

Apparently I like the color green. Walking in to work today I noticed I’m all dressed up in it with my big green bag, my puffy green jacket and my green “cashmere” sweater blouse – very girlie. Goes great with the black cords and checkered Vans.

My work is sick. We’re small to begin with but the majority of people here, aren’t here. Last count was 11 out. We’re maybe 30 deep. Maybe. Most endearing was the staff eMail sent by our Station GM. A chicly, swift woman, originally from Brooklyn. This is pretty much her station. She started it all in ’78 in the former woodshop of the Jr. High down the street. Her co-creator was once jailed for not releasing his Patty Hearst interviews to the FBI. First Amendment rights released him. They were KPFK back then (Pacifica radio). In ’84 we moved into the basement of the Student Union we now reside in. She is a personality Los Angeles loves to hate. I find her invigorating and love working with her during our drives. We rock it. Example: Her last 4-1/2 hour shift of pitching =’d $127,000. It takes a lot to get that right and it’s then that I’m like a cat ready to pounce. I become incredibly Stoic but my secret is… I am blissed out. Everything’s intense and focused. Eye of the MotherFucking Tiger. And I like being a cat.

Side note to mention: We raised 2.15 million dollars in 11 days. My boss said to me in all of her 14 years of being here (she is our GM's subset) she has never seen a drive run the way this was. It was obvious a new regime was in. She actually said regime. She congratulated me. This was my second drive as the director. How can I be soft about this? Because to hear that really made me happy. This place has put me through a lot. Example right now: Rolling Stone remixes. Please. Don’t make me say it again. Sigh…

So our GM’s eMail? Goes on and on about the flu shot she arranged and “asked” us to all take (she held my hand while I got mine) and that it was resilient for only one strain. So don’t blame her for half of work being out. Ego? On this one? Totally. How else is L.A. going to hate her? Apparently we are under siege of a different virus and everyone should duck. That’s me paraphrasing. Her endearing eMail? She consistently spelled “flu” as "flue". This is the woman Los Angeles loves to hate. L.A. is fucking stupid. They should love this woman without shame. She is crazy like a fox and has hired me to run the subscription drives. You have no idea… They’re missing out. Anyways, I decided she was referring to soot and how it’s akin to what the Industrial Revolution did to our world.

Then I started thinking about Globalization.

I’ve been having a religious experience with Wire’s “154”.
New Malkmus track at the station. New Monade too.

S.F. is next week. I’m so excited. I’m going to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge. Lived there for a good 7 seven years and I never did that. 

Well, maybe just halfway.

California Winters

Saturday, February 9. Los Angeles, CA. 70° F.

So warm. The idea of the gym seemed like a waste. Calling Sevie seemed like a good idea.
Sevie is a Sherpa. Of sorts.

We drove up to Topanga Canyon, just 30 minutes up the coast. There were frogs. I climbed a very steep rock. 

Don't eat me.

Sounds.

I worked my way backwards with Dimlite. Middle and back rather. My first full length came after enjoying a fresh mind expansion from Rush Hour’s Beat Dimensions release. A title that came out mid last year. This collection showcased the top creative producers and beatheads. I don’t like to call these guys producers. Sound innovators? Sure are. Creatives is better. Geniuses is gushing.

A few really stood out. Less maybe. Dimlite did.

Starting as I did from his second release, This Is Embracing is so well constructed, smooth and incredibly complex. Knobs turning, pads beat with abstract precision. Each track layers sounds, clips, warps and tones that amuse, befuddle and warm with technique. I fell instantly in love with his music. Now just getting to his first release, Runbox Weathers, it’s very similar but so much rawer. You can hear his genesis and it’s very pleasing. “Oh? That’s your Point A.” It’s a pleasant, totally unexpected surprise. The sounds are simpler and the execution is too. It is therefore a dirtier release, while still magnificent. The ear and mind of Dimlite directs brilliant digits. 

So today we meet Misel Quitno. A non de plume for Dimlite’s nom de plume. The evolution continues. It’s just like in your dream.  The prettiest one. Invoking Raymond Scott in a neo soul super space, a delicate unreleased '80s French soundtrack, slightly fusion, psych folk acoustics, musique concrete, songful science fiction... Misel Quitno is regality expressed as an artist. Classically glorious in ingenuity.

At special times, you notice something familiar, soon realizing it was Dimlite you were thinking of. But the reunion of what you're hearing now, shows the bloke's moved into a different neighborhood. Same family, just years later with new shoes and new fall semester clothes.

I want to marry him and have French babies with him. Neither he nor I are French.

Like Two Bitter Strangers. A Correction.

Terror Twilight is a great album.

Capistrano Swallow, Answer to Your Inner Voice

I've started taking meditation classes.

Like real meditation.

Turns out the teacher is a disciple of Swami Kriyananda, a direct disciple of Paramhansa Yogananda. A couple years ago I got halfway through his book, Autobiography of a Yogi. I didn't realize this was the study I was signing up for. This pleases me though. It's the practice my dad studied when I was a kid. I didn't realize that either. I have always said the dad I knew then is different from the dad I know now. Both are good dads to know but the the former had a really mellow vibe. It was great to have it around when I was little. One thing he would say about the teachings that's always stuck with me is that they believe we don't have a body. I think I'm smart but I couldn't get that. Fortunately, our teacher reviewed this philosophy in our first class. It makes sense now. I get it.

I'm hoping this helps with my hopelessness. That doesn't make any sense. Just give me the truth. I signed up when for the first time in my life I realized I couldn't figure something out. The pain seemed excruciating. But I finally knew I just needed to sit.

Chips and Dips.

Love the new Hot Chip. Didn't expect anything less. Every time I see those geekfunkfuckers I dance for hours and declare at their exit, "YOU'RE NOT DONE YET!" I am not alone.

One of the frontmen is around my height. He's little. He's the higher tone. He's the funkiest of the bunch.

I had to mention a point about why Hot Chip is good and why Vampire Weekend is annoying. My immediacy... sorry that my post is elementary.

Considering Hot Chip's, "One Pure Thought." The song is Zulu. Afreakan. These guys clearly have roots in music. Not fad. Even starts off with guitars rather than groove. But the music isn't simple. You're drawn in by the changes and the fun hooks. Traditional Hot Chip. I feel like I'm talking about Barbie or something. It's got a groove. And I can really get down to it. But seriously - I think it's in a harmony within the song. They do a little chanting riff comprised of "I won't be on my way, I won't be on my way," and then lay octaves above with a melody that trails down. It's so pretty and it's a smart blend. Intriguing.

And jokes. There's a thing about sense of humor that really connects me to things. Seems strange to put it into music though. Right? Music is just our emotional tone. Literally. But! If you can put some wit and a wink into a song and still pull it off, it represents genius. You're not telling a poo joke just for a laugh. It's poo with point.

That's Hot Chip. They're music is regular dance. But IDM as it is intelligent. But their brand of IDM features no krinking juxtapositions to MAKE you feel IDM'd. That's the wink. It's just dance funky but the cliche is so dead-on that their excellence in technique makes it go to "the next level." Voila, C'est IDM. Whatever.

Give the same to Vampire Weekend, and it's a bunch of snotty kids who enjoy their dad's African section in his Hi-Fi collection. Their youth is their novelty not their craft. Nothing changes in the music. It's note for note practically.

Yes. I am playing on my own simile. It is trite? No. It is complete.

Their publicity kit states, "Will make you 40% happier." Or something like that. Definitely the 40%. My work's music librarian was saying, "Yeah. And that's it."

Exactly.

"I'm only going to Heaven if it feels like Hell. I'm only going to Heaven if it tastes like caramel."

I love Hot Chip.



While we're here, take a moment for this, Planning To Rock.

Conflict Of Interests.

Woke up with this thought on my mind...

Why is it that the truth scares us, but to lie makes us feel safe?
Until we learn the truth.

Interesting what we do to protect ourselves.

Put It To Me Rose Marie.

"I'm Not There." The soundtrack is an indie rock festival at Chapel Hill. "I'm Not There." The soundtrack is the music department at my radio station. "I'm Not There." The soundtrack is available as part of the Eclectic Pack from our Music Director.

Packs at work are created during our subscription drives so people can get on and off the phone with us quickly, knowing they're selecting a "sealed with approval by KCRW" premium for their support. This, along with the other benefits of membership and support to us is enough for many members. But the packs specifically... We move calls, they get stuff. It's a win-win. What does this mean to you? It means that many times in a day as advertisement of our Eclectic pack I'll hear Richie Havens jam out, "Tombstone Blues," or Jim James (backed by Calexico) ominously howl, "Goin' To Acapulco." However, I'm surprised by just how much my timbers shiver to this latter track. On principle, I am not a fan of Jim's band. To know me is to know this is not a statement of elitism. Just taste. Of fact. They are the American Coldplay. They are unimaginative and predictable, charming by a dull halcyon effect. Not fair to the human psyche. Pandering. But this song is getting me. I vividly remember how solemn and bizarre a scene it was on screen and how those images were so visceral accompanied by that song. It is Dylan imagery after all. Just how poignantly obtuse do you want it? It heavied a cool evening. Enjoyably.



For certain, the soundtrack isn't a solid hit for me. I'm glad we mostly play just those tracks. If they threw in some of the Yo La Tengo, Charlotte Gainsbourg or Malkmus AND Lee Ranaldo's (my fave Youth) version of "I Can't Leave Her Behind," (a version sung so nicely by Malkmus, using the SM canorous twang, softened with his late-in-life submission to romance, a bit of sincerity for the heroine and some reverence for the author)... If we played some of those, I would be wholeheartedly proud of my station's accomplishments. In the meantime, I really do adore my workplace. I'm grateful. We're a group of bright and energetic folk. Even the lame ducks are at least birds of a different feather. Furthermore, they allow and pay me to exert control while wearing Vans. I'm totally into it.

Here's a site with all the CDs we have available. It's a shiny but very new creation of ours - listing CDs on our site - so forgive if it navigates like a 15 year old girl driving stick. It's Beta and made in something like 10 days.

So back to Dylan.

Along with the accompanying new friendship of the gifter (once an unnecessary nemesis), another late happening I've enjoyed as a work perk has been a brand new copy of, "The Johnny Cash Show: 1969 - 1971." It is outstanding.

The broadcast studios were obviously located in the Lord's backyard, while his big Dad-In-the Sky BBQ'd franks, dogs and poured pop for the guests. I don't use that lightly and I mean it specifically. Music has an ineffable backstory that shakes and tickles from invisible staves and Johnny Cash collected this phenomena in his show. Yeah - he was party planning with the Lord.

Narrated by Kris Kristofferson and opening with a young yet arriving Dylan, no' doubt - this DVD and performance is tops. I feel so bright eyed by things like this, I wish there were a way we could kiss time. I guess that's why we make stuff.

I've enjoyed learning that Dylan's brilliance was somewhat calculated by him. Meaning - Dylan pretty much knew what was available to him and that in the beginning, the trail was probably so brightly lit that Dylan smirked with the excitement, exposing his own inside glow about the deal. It can be seen in this performance.

To make us present now, I'm going to SF in a couple weeks to hang with my original music posse. Goin' to have some fun. We'll be seeing Six Organs of Admittance. And I'm reading The Picture of Dorian Gray. I've never loved a gay man more than I love this writer. He is so horrible. Quel philosophe. In the next two weeks I'll also be enjoying the last two shows of this season’s Arthur Magazine Sunday Festivals, but still, I’ll be surprisingly envious of my SF friends. They're going to Terrastock 7 in freakin' Louisville over my birthday weekend - which is also the first day of Summer. It'd be kinda cool to see all that music on the Summer Solstice, ya' know? But considering Kathy has booked previous Terrastocks as well as tour managed a lot of these bands, she deserves this trip. Me? I'm just not financially set up for it yet. However, I too deserve the show and I'd let you take me for the ride.

HOLYSHITIVENEVERDONETHATBEFORE

All of 'em...


And I can already see my next word, NAESOREF.

One Wafer Thin Mint.

Brownies, muffins, lasagna, salad (whatever), chicken mole enchiladas, coffee, Mani's, olive bread walnut rolls, sourdough, egg bagels, ice cream, saag paneer, tzazaki, mousaka...

These are my days. Day two. So many carbs and coffee. When did my fantasy become my horror?

Are 11 days of binge eating really so bad? Generally, I eat salads everyday and I was once obsessed to popularity with broccoli. We are all so healthy.



Today I told someone, "Take it down. Now." And I was talking about his attitude. I couldn't believe I said it. I must remember to focus. But it was true. He wouldn't get over the idea that a volunteer, "might need to take their medication." He wasn't insulting her. This was his concern. I told him I thought she was a creative. Episode Abstract: "I saw a crazy woman. She rushed by us and sat down in her green jacket. Then... She was gone. I went by your desk... and now there's a green jacket at your chair! I saw a crazy woman put a green jacket on your chair!"
He sure did. It was me. I own a green jacket. "Take it down. Now."

Furthermore, it's the dead of winter and my beach is packed. Mr. Cho thinks I should get my hose out and start spraying from the second floor.

My one concern tonight? How to get the cat food to last through till tomorrow.
And we're going to run out. Rufus is going to kill me.
And I have got to wash the dishes.

Vampire Weekend Tonight.

I just can't wrap my opinion around Vampire Weekend yet. They have got to be so young with their proud attitude of their culturally rich pop music combo. They do have one up on Paul Simon. It's absolutely true. If Paul Simon weren't Paul Simon, quite possibly Graceland would just be an album some little white guy made singing in the shower while listening to the African section of his Hi-Fi collection.

But still. They are youth. The false modesty, genre name dropping, songs about girls on campus...
After my recent Pavement revelation, I'm just not so sure about music that is quick too make me bounce with glee. And they do. Great to get dressed too but so very innocent. Yet so insincerely sincere. Perhaps that's a condition of their seeming affluence? I say seeming but their alignment to ivy league and literary classes is questionable. Rich white guys are just so droll. And hence I am having difficulty.

There's great potential for them to seriously blow up. I hear Hot Hot Heat on the bill and the teens going wild. Coachella. Spin Magazine...

I think I'm mostly having a reaction to the awkward phrasing vocals they use. Anytime there's affectation, I get weary. Affect for effect? That's a cheap shot, a shot in the dark, a crutch. I work at a station that milks these crutches, so I've heard and I see quite a few - and guess what...I believe they just might be coming in for a performance.

But guess what even more - I totally want them to.

And they lyrics to Oxford Comma are pretty great.

See. I can't figure it out.

Back to the vocals. Check out this video: A-Punk Video
Great music. Really dig. But why does he sing this way? Is he from the Congo? However, I do dig. Totally.

But then there's their disingenuous humility. I can't knock it. Try this Fader article. I think I'm just having a case of White Man Mistrust and they really aren't so bad. Like rich boys that kill to have fun with society because regular good times are just too easy.

Sure. I bet that's what it is.

Rainy Day Drive.

KCRW Subscription Drive begins tomorrow. I'm in charge.

No really. I am.

Tuesday we had to shut the entire station down. Shut it down. We almost caught on fire. Major electrical problem that needed to be fixed at 1PM rather than AM. Dig?

Attached photo features, "Singey" - The Fire Culprit.

Fire Marshals are scheduled to visit this week.

It's raining and will continue to through at least Monday, Tuesday of next week. After a past Fire Marshal visit, we have all of our food services outside. And we've got some delicious food. Yum.

We've got tents and we work hard. At least it'll be exciting. Aside from the usual hysteria.

I wonder if my dream last night about my top staffer buying cocaine and hiding a drug problem is reflexive of my concern.

What's really crazy is how uncannily similar Singey is to our latest mascot: