dating myself

Sep 24, 2005 20:52

it seems i'm a bit addicted to the internet. so, every now and again, i mite as well act like it. by writing things like this:
{my current album repertoire}
;david gray - life in slow motion
;doves - lost souls
;elbow - asleep in the back
;dj shadow - endtroducing
;boards of canada - geogaddi
;mum - finally we are no one
;elbow - leaders of the free world

the latter i've yet to listen to, but judging by the sound of the new single and the cd store salesman's taste and familiar recommendations, i'm in for a treat.
i got paid tonite, three times as much as i was expecting, and i treated myself to what i've really been wanting, were extra monies to suddely appear: more music. the albums are generally used for / listened to during my late nite walks, where my smile increases parallel with my disorientation as i get incredibly, stupidly lost; wandering thru jacket-worthy air, picking periodicals out of recycling bins and reading random articles under street lamps, finding treasures on the streets or sidewalks or in some stunning image framed only by my focus ... the way the moonlite paints the stones in the side of some ancient church steeple...
i've enjoyed my late-nite dates, and the tunes that have accompanied me, helping me feel like it's my show after all. (some may already know this: whoever controls the music, controls me. yes, still.)

of course most of the above albums are atmospheric enuff to be used as soundtracks to books (an activity of combined influences that is a helluva drug, by the way. a hell of a drug). rite now i'm starting to read ms. smilla's feeling for snow. i never saw the movie. by the way, is copenhagen in iceland? i kind of hope so. but i don't know anything about geography.
the first scene is a funeral where it's -18 degrees celsius outside, and snowing. the celsius thing is one part about being in another country that i haven't gotten used to at all, and don't think i will for quite some time. i've been wondering why it's such a hang-up for me. i guess i never paid much attention to the temperature number before, unless it was falling into some extreme degree that people around me would talk about ("it hasn't been 98 degrees around here since 1985!"). i used to claim that i knew exactly when it was 65 degrees, farenheit. but i don't think that's true any more. i think i'm mostly just used to associating the temperature and general weather with a mood and/or desire. this is a perfect nite for a glass of red wine, a long bath, and some candles ... if not a fireplace. i must go walk around in this air! it's just rite for a cigarette. oh man, i need to swim rite now! today needs to be spent at the park. et cetera.
i think tonite would be a good nite to hear a mellow band in a low-lit bar. there's a lite mist falling, but in a way that leaves room for possiblities. so ... it's live-music celsius, with a slite chance of devoiding (filling in the blank).

speaking of which, i made a joke tonite in the kitchen*. it's as good as any of my other jokes. so you'll probably want to go do something productive instead of reading it.
what do italian poachers serve when they make mexican food?
(you can't say you didn't see this coming...)
el condor pasta.

...i'm awesome.

{*if you'd like some insite into how my brain works, the joke was the first thing that came to mind after shawna was stabbing at some frozen squid with a knife and turned to ask me if i happened to have a hammer.}
Previous post Next post
Up