Surprise! Another Mix

This is a mix to Phil, because I figured out I can break my reliance on burning CDs!

The Good Old Days- Eels
(In case that link doesn't work because I think it might have iTunes restrictions attached to it, I suggest looking it up on YouTube. Or downloading it. It's very worth it.)
The Way I Am- Ingrid Michaelson
The Happy Song (Dum Dum)- Otis Redding
Dancin' in the Moonlight (cover)- Switchfoot
November Blue- Scott Avett


Hey, I love you.

Why I've Been Up For Almost 3 Hours

And it's 6 15.

Some genius in my building let off the fire extinguisher, thereby activating the incredibly obnoxious fire alarm in my building. Said genius let the fire extinguisher off on my floor, so when my roommate and I stumble into the hallway (in embarassingly short pajamas) all we see is a thick cloud of white smoke and so we bolt.

Outside.
In the cold.
At 3 30 AM.

Only to be told an hour and a half later that 1st and 2nd floor residents can return to their floor, but since the mess is on 3rd, we are not allowed back on our floor until they clean it up around mid morning.

List of Things I Will Do To The Responsible Douche Bag:

1. In keeping with my piratical instincts; keelhaul
2. Possible tarring and feathering, followed with either the aforementioned keelhauling or being run out of town on a rail.
3. Laying this person out on the train tracks a la Snidley Whiplash and waiting for one of the reliable Helena trains to do the job.
4. Perform some sort of military style sleep deprivation torture, akin to what I am currently experiencing.
5. Good, old fashioned beating. With a bag of potatoes for internal damage, and then a fire extinguisher for some poetic justice.
6. I am envisioning a mob scene with pitchforks, torches, and maybe a battering ram on this person's doorstep.
7. Also on their doorstep; flaming poop. Tons of it.
8. Please look up the monologue Wesley gives to Humperdinck about pain in The Princess Bride.
9. Bitch slap.
10. If this person is a male; family jewels. Female; nipple piercings.


I know this list may seem harsh to you, so I just have to say...

never ever mess with my REM cycle.

Fall (TallBallSmallCallGall...Rall?)

The leaves have started to crunch under my feet, and tea with mint in it has become comforting. I have lit my pumpkin candle, and cardigans are practical in their mid-weightiness.

And I'm not ready. I feel this transition sneaking up too quickly. I'm not ready for cider with cinnamon sticks, or pumpkin patches, or big bowls of metallic wrapped candy. The holiday season is too precious to just spring itself on me like this, and it happened so quickly I don't know whether to slap on my sweaters and start raking leaves, or stubbornly wear shorts and wait until mid-October, when it rightfully should start feeling this way.

Regardless, I've shut myself away this week to get work done, and I feel like a newborn panda blinking in the sun this weekend when I've spent hours at coffee shops. So many people! So many hellos to say! How do people do this all the time? In seventh grade I wanted to be a hermit in the Yukon. Maybe I'll return to that plan. I'm much more productive that way.

Obviously ADD has struck today...and it has struck hard. With Thor's mighty hammer. Talk Like a Pirate Day on Friday was a wee bit disappointing, but avast! I still got to threaten to keelhaul mutinous lily-livered scallywags. Pretty satisfying.

Gerber Daisies and How I Found Out I'm Arrogant

At the end of my summer vacation this year, I packed up my things and moved back to school. While I was unpacking my storage unit full of things I had left behind, I realized how much crap I have. My parents were barely able to fit all of it into my dad's Tahoe (which, for reference, is roughly the size of the nation of Chad), and when we got to the small room allotted to me in the apartment, it was ridiculous to imagine how I would ever find creative and geometric ways to fit all of it. So I had to get rid of about ninety percent of it. In past years, this would have been so difficult. I would have found excuses for each piece of rubbish I owned ("Oh, but THIS bottle of multi-vitamins has gel caps, and who knows when I'll be in need of ingesting plastic?").

Surprisingly, when I opened all of the boxes with my wayward possessions this time, I felt no attachment. I sifted through the old video games, the back issues of Glamour, the eighty thousand candles in assorted scents, and old Snoopy adorned purses...and I simply closed the boxes again. The only thing bothering me about the whole ordeal was the fact that I held on to all the meaningless pieces of junk for so long. That I had complicated my life with things.

Why did I hide behind things? I went shopping for clothes when I had no money. I bought movies even though friends owned them. I was afraid to see who I would be without a barricade of consumerism to protect me. If people couldn't tell who I was from the movies and music I liked, and from how I dressed, I didn't want to take the time to let them in.

Well, my room is much much emptier currently. My checking account is perilously low, but I'm able to admit that to my friends now. (Really, guys, it's just pathetic). I didn't do any before-school shopping trips, and I wear the same jeans for a whole week. I also forget to wear make up a lot now. I still spend a bit too much on coffee, but I compensate by stealing my produce from the school cafeteria.

Life's pretty awesome.

Also, you have permission to call me a disgusting hypocrite, because I found a John Mayer song I can't get out of my head.

Saturday at Mile High Music Festival (or How I Almost Got Puked On)

Mile High Music Festival
Sunday June 19- Feeling Fierce like a Tom(Petty)cat

So there is the occasional moment after hours and hours in the sun, with countless jam bands droning on while semi-conscious stoners bob their heads, that I ask myself, "why did I even buy that ticket?"

Well, the answer, my friends, is blowing in the wind. Actually, it was hanging in the non-existant breeze of the 100+ degree weather of Denver's first Mile High Music Festival. With the headliners being Tom Petty and Dave Matthews, over 90,000 people total showed up for the event. That alone was enough for me to peel myself off my couch, injured knee and all, and hobble over to Dick's Sporting Good's Park (please cease your immature giggling) to daintily pick and choose from an overwhelmingly underwhelming line up.

Now I am NOT going to be a Negative Nancy here! It happened that on this inaugural MHMF, Denver chose to highlight an extraordinarily safe sampling of bands. But let me take you through my days.

Saturday

There were a few bands on Saturday that I had been longing to see, like Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers, Andrew Bird, Spoon, and Josh Ritter. I was actually pleasantly surprised when my group and I meandered over to one of the three open air stages in the morning to hear a packed half hour set by a man named Eric Hutchinson.

At a festival, it's basically guaranteed you're not going to love the acoustics. The bass' high end is lost to the ground absorbing its low shock waves, and treble often floats off into nothingness. So to hold a crowd, an artist has to be pretty engaging. Eric Hutchinson was an engaging little so-and-so. He sounds as if Gavin DeGraw developed talent and an excellent sense of humor, and then used them both.

After that, our group split off as those with more questionable music taste went to find the previously mentioned Gavin, and I proceeded to get my face melted off by Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers. They not only knew how to rock hard and wear fedoras without looking like tool kits, they even managed to throw in excellent movie lines into their set.

(Ex: Are you tellin' me that you built a time machine out of a DeLorean?? Doc, that's heavy stuff!)

I was soon being wooed for the first time by Josh Ritter, who won my heart and ears more than any artist at MHMF. The man did not stop smiling the entire time he was on stage, and his lion-cub-like energy made me abandon all my hipster toe tapping, and full on jump around while he played a selection of his more up-tempo folk rock masterpieces to an awestruck and footloose crowd. And yes, he played "Kathleen." And I restrained myself from telling everyone around me that I shared a name with a JR song. Yes...that was difficult.

The temperature by mid-day had breached 100, and since as a Coloradan I am not used to much more than 80, I shuffled my way into Andrew Bird's tent performance and took a seat in the back, since I have seen him before. Surprisingly, his set, though very good, was much more mellow than what I would expect for a festival setting. It made me love him a little more while I let my core temperature drop down from around 300 and let his ethereal whistling energize me for what was next. Which was...

Spoon!

I've been waiting to see these guys for a while now, and they did not disappoint. What a time to be playing, too, with OAR drawing big crowds and people exhausted from the heat starting to get cranky as they elbow their way up to the main stage to claimjump for Tom Petty. But Spoon drew and kept a crowd with their solid set list that appealed to the dancier (I Turn My Camera On) and the rhythmic head swaying (The Beast and the Dragon Adored).

After Spoon I rejoined my wayward friends for the tail end of OAR, who has never impressed me with their repetitive jams and "so chill" ambiance that they can never seem to push past or improve upon. Regardless, there is something to be said for being in the middle of a crowd all jiggling to Crazy Game of Poker. Even I threw my hands up and screamed, "HOW 'BOUT A REVOLUTION!"

One...damp...spot on the afternoon was the close call I had when an overheated and over saturated party dude let his lunch fly about five inches from my friend's and my feet. In a true display of festival brotherhood and solidarity, everyone around promptly gagged and kicked a mound of trash over the festering stink puddle. Which many tipsy people then stepped in, despite many vocal warnings.

I now see the practicality of both invisible electric fences and neon pylons.

Then came the hour and a half wait for Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Since I was the gimp of the group, we all pushed towards the gate and secured sitting spots. The 90 minute wait was made bearable with the setting of the mile high sun and the prospect of seeing Tom's golden head of hair bob in time with Free Fallin'.

Which he played just about immediately! Good thing I know more Tom songs than I originally thought.

At the end of the day, we, along with 60,000 other people, dragged ourselves to our cars and tried to fight both road rage and exhaustion as we thumbed the schedule for Sunday.

Which I will write about soon!

Fictitious!

This is the only finished song of the summer. It has been spawned from a mixture of listening to my oldies (Alanis, Tracy, Michelle) and the newer ones (Edith, Rosie, Feist, Zooey). Edith Piaf is not new, I know, but I didn't start listening to her until last year. So here it is. It has no title as of yet.


I have my feet in the sky and my head on the ground
This trip has turned me upside down
And I don’t want to ask where the birds might land
It’s just too real
And a little too in hand

When you looked at me and my sunburned knees
When I smelled the fire before the kerosene
You pulled the alarm at my front door
And you appeared around the corner
I don’t know what this is foreshadowing

Fly low with my hands clasped tight
And your literary devices just took flight
Metaphorically I’m high as a kite
Quite literally I’m so frightened of you

Drunk and stupid I shook your hand
And I couldn’t really understand
Why the wheels in your eyes were like bed time stories
About knights who speak in allegory
And a two am princess who gets left behind

Fly low with my hands clasped tight
And our novel finished in just one night
Metaphorically we put up no fight
Quite obviously we’re so frightened of you

Will you shake my head again?
Will you write fiction and then
Will you sneak out the front window and
I’ll write the ending as you go.

We're Bruce Wayne, biage!

Kay and I have embarked on an epic voyage this summer; rewatch all of our cornerstone movie favorites. Which means a lot of trilogies. Today we started on Pirates of the Caribbean, resolving to skip through much of unnecessary Kraken battles in 2, and most all of 3. Our list of movies to work through is, so far:
Indiana Jones
OT Star Wars
LotR (Extended)
PotC

Also, I really recommend watching the first Pirates with the Jack Davenport/Kiera Knightley commentary on. It's pretty short and very amusing.

So, on the topic of lists, Kaitlin and I started discussing what we would do if we had the money and time of Bruce Wayne. Because we can. So we proudly present, from the same people who brought you Awesome Things from Canada and Celebrities We Would Enlist on our Ninja Death Squads:

Things We Would Do/Procure if We Had the Time and Expendable Income of Bruce Wayne
By the KT Mafia

1. Buy an old, old wooden ship named Diversity and sail around shooting cannons and speaking only in joxy British accents. (Eddie Izzard is welcome on such voyages.) (As are crumpets.)
2. Buy one of those man made islands in the "World" development. Preferably Canada.
3. Become highly trained sommeliers and bakers. Our pastries will solve global warming.
4. Become extras in major motion pictures and television shows based in Vancouver and New York.
5. Finance the Arrested Development movie, become executive producers, and buddy up to the cast. Exchange witty repartee daily.
6. Get Sam from Top Chef as our personal chef/love monkey.
7. Become highly accurate sharpshooters and archers.
8. Own the entire inventory of the Sharper Image.
9. Be seat fillers at top award shows. Or just buy the front row at all top award shows.
10. Throw bitchin' VIP parties to rival P Diddy's White Party. We would have more visually assaulting parties. Like an Orange Party.
11. Become non-academic archaeologists a la Action Indy/Tomb Raider.
12. Buy up national landmarks like Mt. Rushmore, the Grand Canyon, and Old Faithful and stage huge music festivals on/around them seasonally.
13. Have a huge mansion, obviously.
14. In that mansion, have an annex as a personal theatre with the most movies/tv shows on DVD ever owned. Ever.
15. Also, a whole wing dedicated to botany run by our fleet of Korean botanists.
16. Also, a whole wing dedicated to music with its own state of the art recording studio and soundproof rooms and acoustically balanced concert halls.
17. Have a library of solely first edition books. Leather bound a must.
18. We would also have apartments/condos/adobe huts/penthouses/bungalows in the following states:
Alaska, Arizona, California, Colorado (primary place), Connecticut (to schmooze with old money in New Haven), Florida (only the Keys), Hawaii, Illinois (Chicago), Massachussetts, Maryland (D.C), Montana, Nevada (Las Vegas), New York, Oregon, New Mexico, Washington
We would have villas/houses/apartments/lofts in the following international locations:
Vancouver, Argentina, Turks and Caicos, Australia, New Zealand, London, Monaco, Madrid, Prague, Lake Como (to become BFF with George Clooney), Cape Town, Reykjavik, Moscow, Tokyo.
19. We will own a 200 ft yacht for more modern sailing adventures. We will have jaunty captains hats as well.
20. We will own a whole fleet of Segways. Our fleet of personal assistants (including stylists) will follow in a V formation on their own Segways wherever we go.
21. Buy a plane/trick out a plane to make it even better and snazzier than Air Force 1.
22. Personal perfume/clothing line. Name to be decided later.
23. Resurrect good shows/ cancel crap shows through financial manipulation and/or the take over of FOX.
24. Buy Joss Whedon's, JJ Abram's, JK Rowling's, Eric Kripke's, Tim Kring's, Mitchell Hurwitz's, and Josh Schwartz's friendships for secrets about big reveals.
25. Buy Laurel out of Bead It! and hand over control to Jessie.
26. Hire a scientist to develop a cure for Kaitlin's horrible jewelry allergies so she can join the ranks of earring wearers everywhere.


This list will continue to be expanded I am sure. Back to work, everyone! Tomorrow is Monday! Actually, today is Monday...

Well shoot.

27. Official work week to be changed from Monday-Friday to Tuesday-Thursday. Somehow change minimum wage to 26 USD per hour.

Though we wouldn't need it anyway.

We're Bruce Wayne!

Cooking Up Some Trouble

Mainly just cooking,though. I grabbed a recipe from one of my favorite blogs, Cooking With Rockstars (link on your right), and put on Brandi Carlile before beginning dancing around my kitchen, mincing garlic and slicing carrots and, yes, drinking the Sauvignon Blanc my mom had chilled in the refrigerator. It's a chilly day for summer (50 degrees), and drizzling, so today was a perfect day for watching Wayne's World and making my house smell delicious. For tonight's dinner? Spinach and goat cheese stuffed lamb, coconut-carrot soup, roasted potatoes, and green beans.

Summer's been pretty lazy so far. Just the way I like it. Can't say I'm not excited for the more jet-set part of the summer to arrive, or that I don't miss Helena (I do), but there's something to be said for lazy Memorial Days, with nothing but a kitchen and iTunes to keep track of.

Something about chinese food and Abercrombie

So I can't help but be reminded when the warm wind starts a-blowin' that the cheesiest music with the most nonsensical lyrics used to tickle my fancy during the summer. Ming, this one is for you since you said you couldn't find it. This summer may not be seventh grade, but we will be just as ridiculous. And still listen to the Lyte Funky Ones.

Summer Girls- LFO

Mother's Day Messages

I am Fuel, You are Friends reminded me of all the great Mother's Day messages that are out there to remind us of the proper way to celebrate the moms in our lives. So here are a few. Starting with Mr. T's Daisy Duke-adorned dance celebration;



Treat Your Mother Right- Mr. T

Next are my two favorite Gonzaga grads, Barats and Bereta.



And last but very certainly not least, CNN's silver fox himself; Anderson Cooper. If anything made me feel bad about stopping by Hallmark to get a witty card with a sound byte chip in it for my mom, it's this showboat (or dreamboat) interviewing his mom in '03 for a Mother's Day gift.

Yes, well, sorry Cooper, we can't all buy our mothers fame for Mother's Day. But thanks for pointing it out, you well-informed son of a...Mrs. Cooper.

Wilconversion/Cinco de Wilco/A Warm Wilcome

Thank you to Jon for being the dutiful dude with the camera

All those horrifying puns were thrown out last night, and were promptly forgiven because it was a special enough night that all bad jokes were chuckled at, and then allowed to be healed by the two hour set that Wilco played. Once the show ended, I turned around to see my friend who had never heard Wilco before approaching me with the same dazed, slightly drunken-with-magnificence look on her face that I'm sure I had. I tried to keep from giggling and dancing a little bit, because there is nothing more irritating than a self-satisfied giddy friend dancing and singing, "I told you so!" After a few "wow"s and "holy shit"s I agreed to give her the Wilco/Tweedy from my iTunes. Which was the first thing that happened today, after a long breakfast peppered with things like, "wow" and "holy shit."

How awesome to see a band like Wilco for the first time having never heard them before.

Anyway, I have a pot smoke hangover from having some very enthusiastic mary-joo-wanna connoisseurs right by me for the whole set. But it was worth it to have my face more or less melted off.

I don't think I want to elaborate on the set in general, because I don't think it's necessary to. I do have one point from all this though;

I do not like how music has become a commodity, or a "cool" meter. You know, people who go to concerts just to prove they are the biggest fan, or when someone says they haven't heard a certain band and people jump all over them like "WHAT? ARE YOU A HUMAN? DO YOU HAVE A SOUL? I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'VE BEEN ALLOWED TO EXIST AS A CARBON BASED LIFE FORM!" (taken from actual conversation*)

I think it's completely cool when someone goes to a show of a band they don't know. It should be encouraged, not dribbled upon. And if they end up not having a conversion of biblical proportions, then whatever. At least they gave it a shot. Music is not Vitamin B. It does not have to be "good for you." It's whatever appeals to your taste buds. I like some cotton candy, for instance. Cotton candy would be in this case....early Relient K.

Speaking of catchy, here's the new single from The Lodger that has been stuck in my head (along with Do the Panic by Phantom Planet)


The Good Old Days- The Lodger

*I lied about that.

Putting myself out to (past)ure

I was beginning to pack up for the big move back home for the summer, and was digging through old boxes in my room that I actually hadn't unpacked since I moved them to storage at the end of last year. In one of the boxes, amidst computer manuals and mysteriously homeless bolts, I found a framed picture of myself from my sophomore year of high school.

I just want to point out my jean jacket that I lost a little while after this photo was taken. I really really loved that jacket, and still mourn not being able to cuff the sleeves, paint my fingernails lime green, and feel as though the 90s never surrendered to the Y2k hype.

Now, bad hair jokes aside, I couldn't help but ask the girl in the picture, "So, is this what you imagined?"

Not that at fifteen I wasn't enraptured with the idea of leaving the state forever no matter where I went, but I still remember the dreams of that girl in the photo. I was going to Georgetown University, and I was going to become a diplomat for the United Nations, and I was going to kick ass and take names. In a diplomatic way, of course.

Now, the kicking ass and taking names is still on my agenda. But never in my wildest dreams did I think I would end up here, in a small town, at a very small school, studying theology and working full time at Greenpeace for the summer.

I do feel some sense of responsibility to the fifteen year old in the picture. Did I do enough to make her dreams come true? Or did I fall into complacency? Will I see a picture of me at twenty when I am twenty-five and feel like I have to apologize to her?

I have a habit I started a while ago of having a picture of me as a little girl as my desk top background, or in my wallet, at all times. Because when I look at me when I was two years old with a pirate hat covering my curly wisps of hair and toothless smile, I feel much more responsible for that little girl than when I look at the little girl staring out from twenty year old eyes in the mirror.

Now I sit among boxes packed with wrinkled books, Costco-sized detergent containers, winter sweaters, and I wonder; what do I owe myself?

Here's a new goal;
In five years, when I look at a picture of me as a twenty year old and oblivious to the times ahead, I'll feel like I want to thank myself, and maybe take me out for a drink to celebrate the next blind, but confident, steps.

Cardiac Catharsis

So I've been nursing a cracked heart since September, and have consequently constructed a pretty kickin' mix. Now I'm not trying to get all deep here and analyze this whole deal, but one bright side I've come to understand about loving music is that when you want to hear someone say something specific to you...you can choose the right record with the right words. Takes a lot of pressure off your poor friends who don't quite know if after a break up you will cry every five minutes or go all Carrie on the town.
And when you can't find the right words, those same talented folks can give you a hand.

Realize since this emerged from a certain guy, there are songs in there that some may consider..."bad." But they hold history. And I'm sure I've used a couple of these songs in past mixes for similar reasons. I call it:

OUCH!

1. Silver Lining- Rilo Kiley
Jenny Lewis' voice is a healing salve, can I say? Even when I'm firmly planted in reality and my desk chair, turning this song on and up makes my brain ease and my imagination carry me down winding roads in an all-too-American road trip to Happyville.

2. Writing to Reach You- Travis

3. I Thought I Saw Your Face Today- She and Him

4. Prove My Love- Violent Femmes

5. Somebody Kill Me- Adam Sandler

6. You Won't See Me- The Beatles

7. I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You- Colin Hay

8. Happy- Brandi Carlile (Live Version)

9. Gone- Ben Folds (could not find mp3 version. Had to embed clunky external source. This is the key song in the mix, however, which is why it holds its middlest spot. Like glue.)

10. So Sorry- Feist

11. Romeo and Juliet- Dire Straits

12. Big Country- Bela Fleck, Mike Marshall, and Edgar Meyer
I love bass with a bow. I really recommend you go buy the album, Uncommon Ritual.
Even if you're not into bluegrass or classical, it's just an amazing display of collaborative musicianship. 2:18 is when my heart starts racing and my eyes tearing and well...I never said I wasn't emotionally invested in the music I love.

13. Why Do They Leave?- Ryan Adams (Live Version)

14. We Belong Together- Pat Benatar

15. Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet?- Relient K

16. I Don't Want to Get Over You- Magnetic Fields

17. I Can't Even Lift My Head- Sufjan Stevens

18. On Ice- Chris Thile
Another song I have to embed. The whole album, Deceiver, is one that I don't think anyone should live without. I know I've referenced it a couple times, and for good reason!

19. Sure as Shit- Kathleen Edwards

More Snow= More Music

It's true. I can't stand that it keeps snowing, but unfortunately weather systems and I have never been on the up and up with communication. Therefore, I'll just take out my woes in the form of another cold weather sort of mix.

Sister Winter- Sufjan Stevens

15 Feet of Pure White Snow- Nick Cave

Who Loves the Sun- The Velvet Underground
Can I just say that I love the sun, Velvet Underground...and maybe you whining about your broken heart has caused it to retreat and allow the snow to come. So maybe it's your fault Velvet Underground! Suck it up!

Winter- The Dodos

Ode to Sunshine- Delta Spirit

Crawling Towards the Sun- The Hush Sound

I just want sun. And warm. Sun and warm. Warm sun.

I can't even form complete sentences anymore! Except that one. But it wasn't very creatively constructed.

Snow??

It's snowing. At the end of April. Even if I was an avid celebrator of 4/20, it would be mighty difficult to light up, blast Dave Matthews and play folf in many inches of snow. So instead I have been hiding inside, watching Lord of the Rings and The Lion King with some good buddies. Spring should get the memo everyone is sending;

You're late. Also, you're a tease.

So here is my Snowy Spring Sunday mix-tape for you. For all of us looking out the window and sighing at the ultimate frisbee fields blanketed with concentrated frozen evil, and seriously considering migrating closer to the Equator.

The National Eye- Snowing in April

Sufjan Stevens- Christmas in July

Oh No! Oh My!- Walk in the Park

Tally Hall- Spring and a Storm

Tom Waits- You Can Never Hold Back Spring

Pavement- Summer Babe (Winter Version)

To quote the modern day philosopher, Raffi

Mr Sun, Sun, Mr Golden Sun, please shine down on me
Oh Mr Sun, Sun, Mr Golden Sun, hiding behind a tree
These little children are asking you
To please come out so we can play with you
Oh Mr Sun, Sun, Mr Golden Sun, please shine down on me

Conservative Dad

No, this isn't a post whining about my uptight, white collar suburban dad. Which wouldn't work anyway, given that my dad is a blue collar Boston native. This is about a killer band I saw last night, Seattle's Conservative Dad.
And no, my approval of them has nothing to do with the awesome Big Lebowski shout out on their MySpace...but it doesn't hurt!

I'll admit it, I get surprised when my little town plays host to good music, given that it's exactly what Bob and Doug McKenzie would label as the Great White North. So it was a delightful treat when after they went into the first riff, I couldn't help but move with the music. Conservative Dad played a relatively short set, but it left everyone wanting more. So much so, in fact, that the crowd started chanting the ever-popular "one more song" routine. Now that's pretty common in larger venues, but this was in a small venue, where most of the crowd couldn't even see the band since the stage was level with the audience. Conservative Dad plays a show, though, where you don't have to see them to feel their energy and intensity.

There wasn't a person in that room who couldn't feel the energy. Not to mention, these guys treat audiences like royalty, thanking us about ever five minutes, and sincerely wanting to meet those who came out to hear them. I half expected to be taken out for a nice steak dinner afterwards. But back to the tunes!

Their music is way fun. I can't even label their genre, which is nice. I can say the live show was intense. Whether they were going slow, or inciting head banging, the raw honesty was palpable. This wasn't a show, this was an autobiography.

For a reference point, I would have to say there are some Weezer sounds mixed in with Conservative Dad. Nada Surf also travels along the same vein. Matt Batey's voice smacks of Ben Gibbard often, which works surprisingly well for their more punk songs.

So here's to the Northwest for putting out another honest band to give the people what they need; perspective through the b.s.

All My Energy- Conservative Dad

Picked up by the bandwagon

Jumping on the bandwagon is always something that's good to avoid. But when the band's wagon is a dreamy harmonious love bus going non-stop to Rock Town, I'll stick out my thumb and hop in.

That's how I fell in like (it's too early in our relationship to drop the big L, that's reserved for one Stephen Malkmus) with Fleet Foxes.

And they haven't even released a full length album, the teases! Their two EPs, Fleet Foxes (2006), and Sun Giant, are enough to get by on, though. With soothing harmonies that smack of 60s motown or southern gospel, the Seattle boys play their ethereal, golden guitar riffs that border on funky and sometimes sound beachy, and mesmerize with good ol' pop beats. They almost sound like church hymns, with a kick. I love them.

Oh no! Did I just confess my true feelings? Well, sometimes when it's right, it's right. June 3 is when we will get to commit to a long-term relationship with their LP, though it's already been leaked all over the inter-web, as per usual. For your listening purposes, I'll give you two ice cream sample spoons of Fleet Foxes sounds.



Ragged Wood- Fleet Foxes (No Name Yet, 2008, Sub-Pop)




Drops in the River- Fleet Foxes (Sun Giant EP, 2008, Sub-Pop)



PostScript:
Weezer's new single, Pork and Beans, wasn't supposed to be released until this coming Tuesday, April 22, but as we previously discussed...inter-web. So here it is! It's lost the hi-fi, super-uber-produced sound of Beverly Hills, but I do think the messy, fun, loosey-goosey Pinkerton Weezer sound is gone forever. But tell me what you think! (Also, is it going to be called the Red Album?)


Pork and Beans- Weezer

PostPostScript:

OK, I'm sorry, but today I'm just overexcited it's the weekend and can't help but share things that are exciting me. One more musical treat! The new My Morning Jacket, Evil Urges, is being released June 10. But MMJ, being ever so magnanimous, is giving everyone the title track for FREE!

What is that you say?? Something FREE and not ILLEGAL? Without evil, furrowed brow record labels arresting sixteen year old Metallica fans? Way to bring all of us illegal downloading types out of our shadowy corners so our right ring fingers can relax from all the stress-filled sneaky right clicking we've been doing.



Evil Urges-My Morning Jacket

Oh Swoon, Aw Shucks

So here is my mix tape for the giggle-out-loud, innocent, totally harmless crush. The pulse quickening, shoe scuffling, blushing time when it's just enough to get a smile. C'mon folks, when did dating get so darned serious? Let's all relax, and remember a time when holding hands in line for kickball was a dream come true. Heck, it still is for me!

Help!- The Beatles
Liquefy- The Servant
Run- Ben Kweller
Lines and Lines- The Spinanes
Diamond Ring- Joseph Arthur
Better Together- Jack Johnson
3rd Planet- Modest Mouse
That Says It All- Duncan Sheik
Is This Love?- Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
This Side- Nickel Creek
Nobody But You- Dee Dee Sharp
I Want You to Want Me- Letters to Cleo
Head Over Feet- Alanis Morrisette
So Nice So Smart- Kimya Dawson
Brand New Colony- Postal Service
Asleep on a Sunbeam- Belle & Sebastian
Absolutely Cuckoo- Magnetic Fields
Fresh Feeling- Eels
That Thing You Do- The Wonders (or the Oneders) (Also Mark from Fountains of Wayne)
Closer- Travis
Call to Love- Crooked Fingers
Inside a Boy- My Brightest Diamond


So call me wistful, or just not wanting to complete a paper for tomorrow, but there's my "oh, swoon, aw shucks" mix tape for the hopelessly, giddily crushing.

Orange Time of Day

Sorry, Ming and Kay, but you know me; if there's a mix possibility, I jump on it like a child in the Chuck E. Cheese ball pit.

I too love the orange time of day when all that seems appropriate is to sit on a porch, maybe a veranda, and sip a cold beverage while watching the sun glow goodbye as it lethargically slips below the hard edges of the mountains. I can't wait until I will be able to enjoy the orange time of day the way it is supposed to be enjoyed. Until then, I will continue doing papers and recreating the sensation through music.

Waltz #2 (Live)- Elliott Smith
Sun Giant- Fleet Foxes
The Shining- Badly Drawn Boy
Fighter Girl- Mason Jennings
Making It, Faking It, Breaking It- David Bazan
I'm Going Higher- M. Ward
First Day of My Life- Bright Eyes
Colors- Amos Lee
The Orange Autumn Days- Sean Watkins
1234- Feist
EZ- Pete Yorn
Both of Us'll Feel the Blast
Born on a Train (Magnetic Fields cover)- The Arcade Fire
I'm Set Free- The Velvet Underground
Keep On Moving- Bob Marley and the Wailers
Sentimental Heart- She&Him
Gray or Blue- Jaymay
Numbered Days- Eels
Slow Down- Eightrack Mind
Now That I've Found You- Alison Krauss
Jane- Aaron Roche
Don't You Worry- Jim Noir
Wading in the Velvet Sea- Phish
Hail to Whatever You Found in the Sunlight Around You- Rilo Kiley
Silent House- Crowded House
Transatlanticism- Death Cab for Cutie
Blonde on Blonde (Live) - Nada Surf

Sorry I couldn't get all the links, my time is limited.

Destination Procrastination

It's Monday. I'm tired. I've been gone all weekend, and have an art midterm tomorrow. So what am I doing blogging?

I'm procrastinating, like I always do. Instead of reading the books I have to get done in the next three weeks, I wandered around my room, called Kaitlin to talk about turkey sandwiches and sidewalk chalk, broke into a box of Tagalongs, made up a few little ditties, and brushed my hair up into this monstrosity:

Yeah, well, at least now I know it can be done! And if Cyndi Lauper ever made a come back as the style icon of our times, I would be known as a trend setter, instead of a responsibility avoider! Because, yes...girls just wanna have fun.

The one thing I'm praying for in the next few weeks is motivation. Motivation to do what I need to do so I can go where I need to go. I am a firm believer that the state of a person's room directly reflects the state of that person's mind. My room's a disaster. And while mentally I'm pretty healthy, all the laziness has scattered my intelligence like so many once-worn tshirts on the bedroom floor.

I have all these good intentions, good ideas, good ambitions, and the only thing that holds me back is me. I'm the hurdle that trips me up. I'm the light bulb that fizzles out. I'm the jerk who yells, "Free Bird!" from the back by the bar.

I'm too lazy to think of more metaphors.

This is the song that is keeping my fingers thoroughly distracted:

Each Coming Night- Iron&Wine

Below the Surface: What is Compatibility?

I know I've referenced Nick Hornby's High Fidelity before, but I'll use it as a jumping off point here, too. When it comes to dating, what matters more; what you like or who you are? Even fuzzier, where is the line between the two? It continues to baffle me that the laws of attraction don't seem to pan out in any predictable pattern. Sure, everyone says they have a "type," but often that type doesn't exist, or doesn't work.

Back in middle school I had this huge crush on a guy named Ace. Looking back on it, I don't think Ace and I ever had a meaningful conversation. He played trumpet in band, and I thought he was cute. I don't know if the whole music thing even mattered. Flute and trumpet don't exactly epic duets make. Either way, once I started dating in early high school, my first boyfriend and I became "official" after knowing each other after only a week. We talked, and had a great time. Looking back on it, I can see that the things we liked to do or listen to played into it a bit more, but not too much. He was the one who introduced me to Ben Folds, Woody Allen, Curb Your Enthusiasm, and Christopher Guest flicks. The next relationship I entered a year later was based definitely more on those things that are easy to define. We both played a mean game of Risk, and liked to play music. It was almost like a questionnaire being filled out. You know;

1. God?
2. Top 5 favorite bands?
3. Top 5 favorite movies?
4. Ever feel like dancing?
5. What're your feelings on being a foodie?
6. Would you be caught dead in carpenter jeans/wife beaters?

Unconsciously, yes, but regardless...whether or not the guy ever fit the criteria, I found myself holding onto my "ideal" guy in my brain. It was almost like swimming in an ocean and holding onto one of those floatie noodles; it's so much easier at least feel a bit safer once relationships become more complicated.

I guess my main confusion comes into this question; does it matter at all? Sure, there are the unbreakable categories; smart, respectful, funny, amiable, emotionally available. Past that, what's negotiable, and what isn't? Does natural attraction trump the list of compatibility that I have naturally composed over the years? If someone doesn't hold my same values, does that mean they have no place in my life? Or is it merely a chance to get to know someone who isn't the cookie cutter I've carried around in my head?

Oh, and also, what in the WORLD is casual dating, and where was I when it became a trend? I feel as though I've been napping in between serious relationships and woke up to a world of carefree coffee dates and hand holding. It's like I was listening to Ella Fitzgerald and someone switched it to Marcy Playground. Not that it's bad...I'm just not so sure where I fit in the mix.

All these questions will be answered in time, because I know the overriding answer to them;

Calm down Kathleen, and let things happen as they will.

Yes. I know. But sometimes to actually let that answer sink in, I need to dump all the hazy junk that keeps me on edge and nervous.


Song I Woke Up To

The Man I Love- Ella Fitzgerald

Song on the Street

Sex and Candy- Marcy Playground

Mix Tapes

I was going through all the blank, unlabeled CDs that I have lying around today, and wondered what I had put on them. To sate my curiosity, I took the whole 11 inch stack out to my car, and began pressing the Seek button. Oh man. I remember the names I used to give these mix tapes (CDs, whatever). One that I put in that was chock full of Hot Hot Heat and Relient K was called You Have Died of Cholera, that I gave to Isabella a few years ago. One opened with Boston's Don't Look Back that is called Only Listen To This on Days that End in Y. I popped in several that I made in the middle of a relationship with Oasis' Wonderwall gently leading into Cake's Love You Madly, and peppered with inside joke songs like The Set Up (You Need This) by Reel Big Fish and the ever sing-along-able Come on Eileen by Dexy's Midnight Runners. A few mysterious discs later I happened upon the epic break up CD that begins with Oasis' Wonderwall and finishes with the Ryan Adams version. Sandwiched in between are songs like Prove My Love by the Violent Femmes, Dylan's Most Likely You Go Your Way and I'll Go Mine from Blonde on Blonde, I'll Be Your Mirror by the Velvet Undeground & Nico, and If We Can Land a Man on the Moon, Surely I Can Win Your Heart by Beulah.

Making mixes is so cathartic. They don't always have to be for emotional reasons. Road trip mixes are some of the best, with the funky bass lines and driving beats. Party mixes with Warren Zevon inevitably making an appearance, and Otis Redding showing up right toward the end when you know everyone's just buzzed enough to sing along in their best soul voices. I can't help but love to make cheesy ballad mixes, laden with fuzzy guitar and early 90s boy-whine. I make mixes for when I go on long walks, usually with ambient music that seems to take me out of the world, like Sigur Ros or Sufjan Stevens. Actually, Pavement's Slanted and Enchanted suits me for a dreamworld walk, with its shivery ache, and its ridiculous poetic lyrics rolling off Malkmus' tongue with surfer boy ease.

I listened to a mix I made a couple years ago on one really memorable day when the seasons were turning and we all wanted to drive up to Boulder to climb a mountain, get some ice cream, and watch the sun drip down into a navy blue night. That mix is special because it has songs for each of the people in the car, with a Spice Girls Wannabe thrown in, Ocean Man by Ween, Turn Turn Turn by the Byrds, R.E.M's Talk About the Passion, Roll to Me by Del Amitri, and a few tracks off Jagged Little Pill by Alanis Morissette.

It's a testament to musicians and music fans that the former can create out of nothing and the latter can create further from that creation. It's as though musicians wrote the language so we could tell our story.

Sitting in my car today with my feet up on the dash while a squirrel idly scurried up the tree under which my car was parked while I listened to the stories of my past was a pretty great way to spend some time realizing how very much I am made up of memories. At the same time, sometimes a CD is just a CD, and you've got to move it along to make room for some new beats to drive to, and new harmonies to sing. I'll be the Mamas, you be the Papas, and we'll prepare to face Monday, Monday with new eyes and ears.

Erase/Rewind- The Cardigans

Happiness in a Real Way

I've started to compose a list of things that make me truly happy. Not just things I enjoy, but things that make my heart full, my body buzz with anticipation, and my feet skip without my permission. That kind of happy that I can't fake. It' s turning out to be a harder list than I thought. I wanted to put down all the things that I enjoy doing. For instance...music. Now this is actually a sore spot for me. I love music. When I first picked up the flute (Jethro Tull made it cool, I can too!) in fifth grade, I fell in love with music. I would practice for hours a day, put on concerts for my parents, buy Beatles song books and walk around the house playing Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.

Then in middle school I discovered string instruments and choir. I got to fall in love all over again! I started listening to more music than oldies and boy bands (though I do admit I still put on BBMak from time to time), and it was incredible to find people who I could relate to who didn't even know me. I didn't have to share anything with them, but I felt like I was listening to someone's most intimate secrets. I got into a habit last year of whenever I had a bad day I would sit down and play a song on the stereo and play along until I could play it, too.

This love affair, somewhere along the line...lost its spark. I don't know where it was, but I didn't realize it until I was writing this list and when I put down "music" my heart didn't flutter. Somewhere down the line, I stopped loving music for me, and started making it about the world. Maybe it was when I felt obligated to be on the edge of what was going on, to know bands before anyone else did. Maybe it was because I started to be sort of embarrassed that I'm not that good at guitar, at least not compared to a lot of my friends who can pick up any instrument and wail on it like no one's business. These feelings of inadequacy crept in and body snatched the thing I loved most. Weird, right?

Well when I realized that last night, I called myself a tool, and when I got back home after going out, I resolved to myself to not let anyone else define what makes me happy. Which is hard, I'll admit. I'm a chronic people pleaser. But it's worth a try! But that way, I can add music to its rightful place on the list of things that make me perfectly, giddily, childishly happy. Here is the list so far, by the way:

1. Music
2. Historical fiction
3. The East Coast (mainly for all the museums and history and seafood)
4. Harry Potter
5. Lord of the Rings
6. Europe
7. The Northwest
8. Road trips
9. Really old churches
10. Peanut butter
11. Cooking/baking
12. Museums of almost any kind
13. Watching movies that I've seen a billion times
14. Going out to eat with friends (preferably long meals)

That is the list so far. I add things as I feel them. One thing that is conspicuously not on there? My faith. Or God. It's hard for me to put into words what gives me peace and happiness with Him. A lot of the time I struggle with Him, and my faith in Him is only a faith that one day it will get better, which I firmly believe it will. Struggling is something with a lot of Biblical merit, and just because my relationship with Christ isn't happy-go-lucky, I still know that I love Him more than anything else, and that it's worth going through the storm. But right now, perfect happiness isn't really achieved there.

Speaking of perfect happiness, I just stubbed my toe really really hard. We'll put that on the list called, "Ouch."

Happiness- Built to Spill













Old jam party back from high school. Back when the song "Girl in the Red Dress" was born. And I tried to kill it. And it haunts me still!

Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun

Please come out to play!

I woke up this morning with the golden beams of deceptive light bouncing off my face, and felt my feet itch and my heart sing while I thought, "Is it going to be warm today?"

Well, it's 32 degrees. An improvement over 0, I suppose. But I want to be outside now! Hiking and running, and folfing, and laying in the grass until ten at night and not needing a jacket. I'm sick of my jeans, and my sweatshirts. I have started listening to bubbly summer music even though there's not a lot of bubble summer weather to back it up.

I do love these next few weeks, though; when summer starts to break through winter. I always forget how much energy I have when it's nice outside, and the prospect of climbing a mountain or taking long walks is actually plausible. I think I might actually go into hibernation during the winter, because it always feels like I'm just waking up. And things that would normally stress the heck out of me take a back seat to the giddiness I feel at just being able to put on a tshirt and run outside, and maybe not return to the dreary indoors for a whole day!

Last year Helena didn't get to summer until May, but I'm hoping that's not how it is this year.

I am ready to have adventures!

L'Aventurier- Nada Surf

Pity Party Like a Rockstar

I decided for fun I'm going to lay out the top 5 inter-band love spats of all time, as highlighted by their pre and post break-up music. I was tempted to throw in The Pixies due to Frank Black's hurling of a bass at Kim Deal's head...but that wasn't because of romance, that was because Kim Deal is a crazy musical creative control freak. Anyway, on to the list!

5. Rilo Kiley (Jenny Lewis and Blake Sennett)
So very rarely does an inter-band break up result in better music, but Jenny Lewis and Blake Sennett seem to have gotten over their break up by using their music. I also had to include them because of their recent release, Breakin' Up off of Under the Blacklight.

Breakin' Up- Rilo Kiley
Under the Blacklight

4. Fleetwood Mac (McVies and Stevie Nicks with the other guy)
Was something about 1976 just really conducive to divorces? I first heard about their love square from Flight of the Conchords in reference to CoCo, and when I looked into it...what a tangled web. Regardless, in '77 they released Rumours and their emotional turmoil was laid bare for the world and Billboard to hear and buy in droves. Tip for an Up and Coming Band; if everyone in your band is splitting up in horrifically emotional ways, capitalize on it.

Go Your Own Way- Fleetwood Mac
Rumours

3. No Doubt (Gwen Stefani and Tony Kanal)
We all remember early No Doubt, right? I remember being in fourth grade and blasting Tragic Kingdom up as high as it could go, singing along to Don't Speak as though my nine year old brain could fathom the heartache that Gwen experienced after her break up with No Doubt's very own bass player. I know some would argue this, but since No Doubt's break out album was Tragic Kingdom, and most of the songs are obviously Gwen singing about her relationship with Tony Kanal being ripped at the seams (I wonder how awkward he must have felt during those recording sessions), I'll just make a blanket statement; No Doubt owes its early funk to the wily, heart breaking, bass playing fiend. Now if only Gwen had quit then...

Don't Speak- No Doubt
Tragic Kingdom

2. Belle and Sebastian (Isobel Campbell and Stuart Murdoch)
You see, now this makes me sad. Because this is the sort of story that makes me want to scream at bands, "DO NOT SLEEP WITH EACH OTHER! FIND GROUPIES/BAND AIDS INSTEAD!" Stuart and Isobel were all blissed out in their musical love up until the turn of the century (it's great to be able to say that), and something went wrong. That something ended with Isobel leaving the band and taking her cello with her. 2003 saw the release of Dear Catastrophe Waitress, but compared to their four previous LPs, it was a drastic turn towards a very produced sound. I actually really like Dear Catastrophe Waitress, it's a really good album. But that doesn't mean that I don't mourn the loss of Isobel's wistful vocals and the gritty spontaneity of the old B&S team.

You Don't Send Me- Belle and Sebastian
Dear Catastrophe Waitress

1. Jefferson Airplane (Grace Slick and Paul Kantner)
Jefferson Airplane is without a doubt the worst inter-band break up of all time. Not only was it an ugly split, but it resulted in ugly music. That can be documented by their band's name changes.
Jefferson Airplane: Oh fun! Grace Slick wailing on White Rabbit, making me want to go back in time to the psychedelic rock fest that was that 60s. This is good! This is very good! OK, so you divorced your first husband and had a daughter named China with Paul...questionable name, but whatever, you seem to be happy! Oh wait...oh no...you're losing band members...
Jefferson Starship: Hm...Slick, you're smelling a little like...is that grain alcohol? But you can still sing, right? And you and Paul and...China are doing all right? Oh...not so much? Is that why you got up drunk on stage in Germany and blamed all Germans for wartime atrocities? Uh oh, there goes Paul taking legal action! Guess you two aren't an item anymore. I guess you're just...
Starship: The eighties aren't treating you too well, are they? Couple albums in and Slick's gone. Looks like all (Jefferson) Airplane/Starship has left are some sadly nostalgic reunion tours and a couple B-sides to get through the lonely nights.

That's what you get for starting a relationship with a bandmate in the 60s.

Somebody to Love- Jefferson Airplane
Surrealistic Pillow

Hairy subject

It's weird how to external appearances reflect what is going on inside a person. Drastic haircuts often show a drastic change of heart, mind, or lifestyle. Or at least it's a reflection of a desire for change. I've wondered why I can't grow my hair long, and in a large part it's because I enjoy shorter hair. More economical in the way of less shampoo, it's easy to manage, etc. But another reason I realize is because I get bored with it, and it's nice to change something easy like a haircut instead of working on the inside.

This sort of thing doesn't necessarily warrant deep thought. Hair is hair, yes. But things are often more than they seem, and it's worth having a well-examined life. Finding the balance between that and an over-analyzed life is the real challenge. As for me, I won't be sporting a shaved head just yet, but change on the inside sparks a change on the outside.

Cut Your Hair- Pavement

God is good

Happy Easter everyone, this bucket o' tunes is chock full of songs hinging around the idea to accept some things about life so that we can start living it while we have time. I didn't think it would be right to link all of these songs, so I chose Time by Ben Folds.


Time- Ben Folds

Doubting Thomas- Nickel Creek

Big Country- Mike Marshall, Edgar Meyer, Bela Fleck

Carbon Monoxide- Cake

Body in a Box- City and Colour

Dead Melodies- Beck

Don't Look Back in Anger- Oasis

Tomorrow Never Knows- The Beatles

Happiness- Built to Spill

Rain- Bishop Allen

Epitaph- Badly Drawn Boy

Burn One Down- Ben Harper

The Call of the Wild (Highway)

The Evolution of a Night:

It began with Caitlin and I planning to get into the spirit of Into the Wild. You know, building a shelter, starving in the wilderness, maybe bringing a broken down bus into the basement. What that ended up being was, of course, us watching it in the basement with a short pot roast break and lots of blankets.

What "getting into the spirit of Into the Wild" turned into, though, was spontaneity at its finest. I remembered a 24 hour coffee shop in downtown Denver, Leela's, and mentioned we go there. I don't exactly know why, but watching a man close to my age live with so much energy and passion, the most I could do at that moment was abandon my eleven p.m wind-down to bedtime...and get caffeinated.

Long story (and trip) short...Denver wasn't quite enough. After hanging out on big leather couches with our coffees amongst the hipster kids with their fedoras and mohawks, Caitlin mentioned an even better coffee shop, Alley Cat, back in Ft. Collins. Blame it on the good conversation we were having...or the caffeine...or Chris McCandless...but my brain turned off and mouth said, "hey...you want to go?"

We glanced at our cell phones, and the time was around midnight. Caitlin looked at me and said, "Yeah!"

So we turned up Spoon, pressed on the gas peddle, and drove all the way to Ft. Collins for coffee and huge bean bag chairs, returning home around four in the morning.

And I have to say that the conversation Caitlin and I had was one of the best I've had a in a long time. Caitlin's blog covers a lot of what I thought about it, especially how reconnecting with someone after so long is such a weird and amazing experience. But more than that...last night reminded me how refreshing it is just to...be. To think, hey, getting up and going would be nice and then doing it. Instead of thinking myself into a corner, to entertain a thought and then to do it.

I sincerely believe that everyone has a spark in them that wants them to get up...and go. To explore, and ask no one's permission. I don't think I'll have too many opportunities to do this, to feel like I'm living in a Tom Petty song. So I'm certainly glad I did.

I'll highlight with a couple anecdotes;
While we were sitting on a little platform in Alley Cat, I was laying on my back while we debated what we were going to paint one of the ceiling tiles as (they allow customers to paint or decoupage or whatever on ceiling tiles for free) and playing This Side quietly, feeling very in a creative bubble...when a guy comes up and says, "Are you going to play a song?"

I look up, probably awkwardly due to my strange position on the bean bag chair, and say, "Oh, not very loudly! Do you want to use the guitar? You can, I'm just fooling around."

He pauses, and looks around, and says, "No...I don't know how to play."

At this point, I didn't really know where to go in the conversation. So he says after a pregnant pause, "What do you know how to play?"

I glance around, and notice there are at least four other people playing guitars in corners, and start to get the picture. I list a few bands, he nods for a few. And then he asks what I like to play. I re-list the bands. It gets quiet again. Caitlin is clearly laughing silently at me. He starts to ask other questions about me, clearly not getting the hint that Caitlin and I were in a creative groove. So I make some sort of polite closing statement and he leaves. We re-enter our creative bubble, focusing on the ceiling.

Then...about five minutes later, the same guy comes over and stands in front of me and asks, "Can I sit with you?"

I don't think I've ever said "no" to someone in that situation. Then again...I've never been hit on at two in the morning by a man I didn't know at all.

But I explained that Caitlin and I were in a private conversation, and he left again.

But really...it was a totally new experience.

It was worth it, though, because what would an adventure be without quality characters wandering in and out?


End Anecdote.

Thanks, Caitlin. From Denver to Ft. Collins, we are two rogues answering the call of the wild...or at least the call of caffeine.

How Life Can Turn- The Appleseed Cast

I Gotta Move- Ben Kweller

Happy St. Patrick's Day! (Sort of)

So the word on the street is that St. Patty's day was officially moved to Saturday the 15th since today falls at the beginning of Holy Week. Apparently the Pope wasn't too happy about the Church waking up with a huge collective hangover at the beginning of the most important week of the year. Either way, I hope you have a delightful St. Patrick's Day!

Gillian Welch- Whiskey Girl

Conversation worth sharing

This took place at about 2 in the morning when Caitlin and I had gone to sleep on available floor space and Kaitlin was just about to go to sleep, too. At this point Tracy gets up in a sleepwalking-type way, walks over to where the bathroom door is...and walks directly into the adjacent wall with her arms spread out.

Kaitlin: [stepping over cautiously] Tracy, what are you doing?

Tracy: [feeling around the wall with her palms] Going to the bathroom.

[C/Kaitlin and I look at each other, not quite sure what to do.]

Caitlin: The bathroom's on your right, Tracy.

Tracy: [still probing the blank wall] Uh huh.

Me: Turn to your right, Tracy.

[At this point the three of us are not even bothering to suppress snorting laughs]

Tracy: I really have to pee.

[Kaitlin gets up and mercifully guides Tracy by the shoulders into the bathroom.]


Also, I have to relay a very important message to everyone today;

Beware the Ides of March!

Help me languish here

This stud with me on the right is Lily's little boy, Charlie. He is so cute, I am using him to give my blog more mass appeal. Who can get sick of that face?


Well, moving onwards.


My fingers have been rambling over the keyboard all day today...

And have come up with no coherence whatsoever. Hence the new header. Photoshop comes easier than word-fashioning sometimes. Anyway, here's my music of the week.

Rosie Thomas- These Friends of Mine
It's the title track off the album that she produced with buddies Denison Whitmer and Sufjan Stevens, and I'm not going to get all Spin/Pitchfork-like and start name dropping like a fiend, but whatever...it's beautiful. It helps me see the rising sun as a friend laced with harmonies and promises of paths to come instead of a nuisance trying to destroy my much loved sleep. Rosie's voice has never been more stripped down and intimate, and the backing vocals are never too much.

Badly Drawn Boy- The Shining
I sort of debated just putting all of the album, The Hour of Bewilderbeast, up because it's one of those dusty, forgotten favorites that was in my car for a long time and then only existed when I started humming it to myself (or those in direct proximity). But, just like a good habit, I picked it back up again and can't stop enjoying. As I read somewhere once, it's "all killer, no filler." And, you know me, I can't resist cello opening a song up right. And throwing in some non-overwhelming horns...perfection.
The album opens with this song, making me long for a sun soaked late summer day with deep orange sunsets and warm breezes, right before the crickets get in tune for a night of glow-in-the-dark frolf/ultimate and grass stained toes. Way to go Damon Gough, you've captured me once more.

Stephen Malkmus- Freeze the Saints
I can't really more deeply explain my loyalty to Stephen Malkmus, besides the fact that Pavement has been in my top bands for a long time now. But this week I've been more partial to a more recent release of his, Face the Truth. It's his third solo album, and I appreciate it mostly because it's the first one where he really seems to be going in a distinctly non-Pavement direction. He clings to Pig Lib I think in songs like No More Shoes, but lyrically he captures me at the most unexpected moments in this album. I find this particular song to be the most outwardly listenable, but Face the Truth hits me with different things every time I listen.

Jump, Little Children- Young America
Such a rollicking fun band from the 90s! This is off their 2004 release, Between the Dim and the Dark. I can't say it's a monumental work of musical genius, but who cares? It's just a fun album, and I literally...bop along to the songs. I pull out some steering wheel drumming, and even steering wheel guitar (the finger grooves as frets). Will she walk on the razor's edge?/Or be lost when she burns the bridge?/Will she take what I gave her on her way?/Young America's waiting
Uh oh...not politics!

And lastly, because I do have to admit I relived an early teenage favorite for the whole drive to and from Boulder this week...

Sunny Day Real Estate- Pheurton Skeurto
Would everyone stop calling them emo? It brings images of drawn on tears and meekly played power chords. Jeremy Enigk deserves more. SDRE deserves more! Aw shoot, I can't pretend Diary isn't a thoroughly bitter album, but so was Mozart. If anyone can be called the "grandfather of emo," it is the man who wrote the requiem for his own death. Well, Sunny Day was my 90s flashback of the week. KBCO was reliving the early 90s this week and I halfway crossed my fingers to hear Jeremy's emoting voice stuck in between Hootie and the Blowfish and U2, but it's hard to transition that with proper song transitioning etiquette, huh?


St. Patty's day celebration tomorrow up in Boulder! I wonder how many red-headed hippies there could possibly be...

Crazy Breed

The discontent I feel can't be just me. In fact, I know it's not. This feeling...of being trapped, of being afraid to embrace who I am, of never being as good to people as they deserve. It's a disease. We're a distracted world. Caught up in bright lights and comfort. Of power that exists only in the tiny little world in our minds. Dear Lord, I hope I can move past it, because when the world tells me the tension on my shoulders and the weight on my heart can only be cured with pills to empty my mind and ease my restless and racing conscience, I only become more resolved that the answer lies far outside the path that those same well-intentioned people have laid for me.

Society- Eddie Vedder
From the film Into the Wild

Do you believe in Barack and roll?

Can Obama save America's soul?
Oh.
And can he teach me how to dance real slow?


Well, maybe not the last part. But since he's been labeled the "new JFK" (is that like being called the "new U2?") maybe I should want him to...nah, I'll leave that to Obama Girl.

Now that the UberSuper Tuesday is over, and Hilary and Obama are closer than ever in the race, I start to wonder why exactly I'm choosing to be a supporter of Barack over Hilary. Considering their policies are almost exactly the same, with Hilary having much more experience behind her, and her exit strategy for Iraq being much more plausible. Obama, really, pulling out in under a year? It would be entirely devastating for the region, economically and politically. In Afghanistan, especially, a situation similar to the Muhajideen would arise no doubt, with a formerly united government group splintering into warlords fighting for dominance, like after Communist Russia was forced out in a short time period.

Yet, with all these facts staring me in the face, I am totally in support of Barack Obama, and here's why;

After the damage that has been done to our country's image, I hate to say this, but we need a figurehead. Someone who inspires. No one person can fix what has been broken. Only a nation can. Hilary, though carrying experience, fails to unite and inspire quite like Obama does. Especially overseas. The super delegates overseas have shown that in overwhelming numbers.

I firmly believe that Obama also is the type of politician to approach the war with reason once he is presented with the opportunity. His exit strategy shows a good jumping off point for how to actually resolve to get out of the situation. Instead of being wishy washy, he shows resolve and a firm hand in getting the job done.

Let's think about this...as a nation, we've elected experienced, wrinkly, talky, pompous, and connected politicians who have lead us horribly astray. I think that Obama's lack of Washington corrupting experience will serve him well. He says he rides the winds of change, and I don't think the winds of change come from the hot air rising out of D.C.

My contention with Hilary is that I can't imagine denouncing George W. Bush for taking advantage of his father's presidency while condoning having Bill Clinton in the White House again. It seems like a dynasty to me. And I desperately want change for this country. Now that I am of the age to be waking up to the political turmoil and unrest in our nation, I think it's time for a clean slate. A Democratic dynasty is just as dangerous as a Republican one. I'm done with rehashing political ties and loyalties, it's not that I don't like Hilary. She isn't the change that we need though, she is a throwback to the last Democrat to be in power. And that isn't what we need.

We need the winds of change I feel blowing from the Windy City. This time it's not just America that's ready, it's the world.

Oh yeah...there's McCain, too. He should be having his 174th birthday soon here, right? =)

Agape

I wanted to write today about grievances in Tibet, really. And tie them into the injustices perpetrated on the people of El Salvador, whose land is owned by only a few rich families and whose people have suffered from unnecessary poverty and violence for too long. I actually sat down and started writing that blog, mainly leading up to my deep-running love for the Jesuits and their tireless work...and then that turned to writing about selfless love, agape in Greek, and that turned to the nature of love in general. And then to the nature of that squirmy, uncomfortable...romantic love.

What disturbed me the most when I paused and realized my lengthy tangent was that agape, the word used in the New Testament's original Greek, describes the kind of love that Christ has for us, and that we are called to have for each other. A love that asks for nothing in return, expects nothing to be easy, and holds onto love for love's sake. Why does that sound like a fairy tale now?

I know that I personally have thought about that concept...wrestled with it briefly, and then uncomfortably rationalized it away, because how on Earth could anyone actually live with that kind of love? In a world that has historically been so bent on conquering, proving, taking, showing, and consuming, how could a real pouring out be realistic?

Oh, and then I realized...I don't think we're living in reality. Not that we all have virtual reality visors on, or anything...but when I stepped back as far as a person living in this day and age can, I became disturbed by a whole different concept. For a people who prides ourselves on knowing everything, our society seems consumed with distracting ourselves from understanding anything, especially when it comes to love.

Love has been portrayed in many different and unhealthy ways. The first that come to mind are "chick flicks," or the romanticized Hollywood The Notebook kind of love. I'll be the first to denounce Nicholas Sparks' take on real love, but that's a bit too easy. I mean other things, more subtle things. Like the whole idea of falling in love. It sets up the premise that we're just hanging on the edge of a cliff, outside of love, and waiting for that person who is going to push us over. Then once we're falling, we've got to keep falling or else we're going to hit rock bottom. Which we inevitably do, and hence the skyrocketing divorce rate.

Or, to get even weirder, the idea that everyone needs to get married. I'm a Catholic, and one of my major contentions with the Church is that women aren't allowed to be priests. I think that it's high time women were give that chance. But you know what question I get asked the most from people when they find out my denomination?

"Why can't priests get married?"

Woah, there. Slow down. A person devoting themselves to the single life is more concerning than blocking over 50% of the world's population from being able to consider it?

Or when I hear my friends start sentences with, "When I get married..."

This whole concept of waiting. Feeling as though it has to happen for us to be completely complete. Just waiting for love, as though it's something we don't experience unless another person comes along and romances us. Romantic love; the squelcher of true love.

Because what's true love? Is it romantic love? I've heard familial and friend-based love be dismissed with statements like, "well, yeah, but..."

But what? Agape, the love we're called to have with the world, ourselves, and God, is so large that I think I, and maybe others, try to break it down so it's easier to swallow. Instead of loving everyone, or at least devoting time to trying, in that selfless way, it's easier to put all hopes on the arrival of one person to make it easy. Not that it gets easy there.


Because it's so easy to fall in love with who a person could be, or to stay in love with who a person used to be. It's the greatest challenge to continue to love a person as they are, and as they grow. That idea doesn't fit in so nicely with our society's current trend of; whatever feels good is good, if it's not perfect then it's not worth it. I don't know if a relationship is ever perfect...how could it be? Two wrongs don't make a right, and two imperfect beings don't make one perfect one.

....

Now you see why I didn't include all the stuff about social justice beforehand. This tangent was enough!

Agape...
It's a concept that seems to always lead to rambling, bumbling, confusion, and in the end, at least for me, some hope. Because if we're called to it, then I know that there's more to true love than chance meetings on the Empire State Building, or better ways to show it than hanging off a ferris wheel. And that's somewhere to start.

P.S: Unless The Notebook, I do actually like Sleepless in Seattle.