muzak meme

The rules are these:

List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they’re not any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now, shaping your spring summer. Post these instructions in your blog along with your seven songs. Then tag seven other people to see what they’re listening to.

in no special order ...

1. language city from at mount zoomer by wolf parade

2. waterfall from the stone roses by ... well ... the stone roses!

3. she's so lovely from scouting for girls' self-titled debut

4. common people from pulp's different class

5. "connais-tu le pays?" from massenet's mignon -- this clip is of marilyn horne singing, but my recording is of frederica von stade ... it's the combination of the two for me: von stade singing this song about homesickness helps with my current castlesickness

6. you! me! dancing! from los campesinos' hold on now, youngsters ...

7. walcott from vampire weekend's self-titled album

tagging ...

RB?
HC?
MT?

anyone?

my starfucks barrista ...

jared, is a super-talented guy. here's a song he wrote that i just can't stop listening to. i want to learn to play/sing it!

when i grow up ...

i want to be china forbes.

'nuff said. just watch the vid:

nerd confessions #387 and #388

nerd confession #387:

(i think this is actually a bike confession, but nonetheless ...)

i'm still afraid of my clipless pedals. i'm afraid that after 4 months of bikeless existence, i'm going to go out for my first ride of the summer, come to an intersection, forget to clip out, and topple over. and in toppling over, i'm afraid that i'm going to rip open my left knee *again. the scar is almost gone from last summer. i'd like to have just one summer during which i don't have to wear a gauzy bandage on my knee and smear myself with polysporin. just one. i've never had great legs, or particularly fetching knees, so it's not that i'm vain (or maybe i am). i'm just tired of what seems to be perpetual left knee trauma, and i dread hearing quips from people who have been around for *all the left knee incidents, should they see me, yet again, sporting a pulpy scabby mess on my left leg just below the hem of my skirt.

it's a ridiculous reason for not getting out on my bike, isn't it?

nerd confession #388:

paul simon's "american tune" makes me cry. every time. i tear up like a sentimental slob and bawl my eyes out. when i first arrived at the castle in january, there was something about listening to it that helped my homesickness (canadasickness?). now that i'm back in kingstunned and anxiously counting down the days till i return to my turret, a job i adore, friends i cherish, and my lovely english boy, listening to it somehow helps, but i have to do it with a box of tissues nearby. put it on a playlist with "bridge over troubled water" and i turn into a giant, sniffling mess.

dear mexican restaurant next door ...

i'm sure you have lovely guacamole. i'm sure your wait staff are pleasant and efficient. i'm sure you serve smashing mojitos. i've often thought of bellying up to the bar for a few shots of tequila in those moments, like the other day when i finished writing a dissertation chapter draft, when celebration is the order of the day. all in all, you look like a great restaurant. there's been only one thing holding me back from becoming one of your patrons.

the mariachi music.

i'm sure i'd find it atmospheric as i gleefully worked my way through a plate of cheesy nachos. i know the idea behind it is to make the burrito taste more authentic. but i can't stand it.

i can't stand it because i hear it for 10 hours a day, almost every day of the week. you have a few sets of speakers chained to the awning on your back patio that just happen to be right under my living room window, and even on days when it's raining horizontally, and there's nary a hungry soul in sight, i'm slowly lulled into insanity by the sound of the guitarrón. and at 11 o'clock, as your staff are closing, upending the green plastic patio chairs on to the green plastic tables, you turn up the volume and in a blind rage, i imagine waiters in silver-studded charro outfits wearing very, very broad-brimmed hats with tassels waltzing, busby berkeley style, with mops and brooms.

but enough of that. i'd really like us to be good neighbours. i'm here for the summer, and i think we can both enjoy the season and still remain respectful of the other person's likes and dislikes.

i hope you think so too, because i've got your precious little chihuahua and unless there's some peace and quiet tonight, his days are numbered.