Filed under: Life Goals, Música, Stupid Boys, The New Deal, Trips | Tags: Compulsive Gamblers, Elliott Smith, Elvis, moving again, Nolan Strong, PRODIGAL DRUNK SUMMER
I’m packing everything up again. This time I’m moving to Florida. I don’t want to go, but I guess that means I’m doing something bigger than myself (ha). Actually, I just don’t think it would be in line with my eventual fate as a boring suburban mom if I didn’t do this. So while part of me (that really big part called the “brain” and “spirit”) wants to stay and be officially plan free for the first time ever in my life, the small section (called “sensibility” and “pragmatism”) is making me go. After all, I have no job here (after Oaks ends), no house (after my sublet ends), etc. In Miami, I have a job and a house. But I have friends and romantic prospects here. And bars I love and places I will miss. In Miami, I will be drinking in Applebee’s, by myself. I guess it had to happen though. The Prodigal Drunken Summer has to come to an end, otherwise it’s just alcoholism. Boom.
Some songs that fit the way I feel right now:
[download "Say Yes" by, yes, Elliott Smith, I guess you should go ahead and kill my sad sack self now....] oooh bonus!! (download “Alameda” by him, too)
[download the Compulsive Gamblers' cover of Nolan Strong & The Diablos' "Your Happiness"]
Ta Da! Now I’ve gotta go to the carnival.
Filed under: School, The New Deal, Trips | Tags: family drama, New York, thesis hell
I am in New York now. I finally made it. But I don’t want to write. As much as I love it, I really can’t bring myself to write anymore — atleast in a biographical sense and it seems pointless to write about books or movies or music when in reality I don’t really spend much time dealing with those subjects.
I will try though. I will.
But first, I’ve got to get better myself. I have got to figure out how to care for myself before I work on caring for those around me. See, I don’t need therapy after all!
Filed under: Bad Calls, Other people, School, Stupid Boys, Trips | Tags: family drama, New Jersey/New York, thesis hell
Right now I’m on one of my on and off again best friend’s computer making good facebook message choices while stealing her expensive lotion. I ditched my family in favor of relaxing. And I feel very, very expectionally guilty about that. But atleast I’m relaxing, kinda, right?
I’m so angry that I forgot my thesis chapter. I really, really am. But, to clarify, I have my actual chapter, I just don’t have the copy edited by my adviser. And since we disagree on oh-so-many topics, I was actually planning on revising and editing and reworking that piece of shit, but now I can’t. At least, not with her intentions in mind. And that, of, course, amongst other things, is driving me crazy.
We have no car for driving to New Jersey/New York. My friend flaked on fixing her car & so now I’m looking at flying or bussing it, but I don’t even have a ride to the airport (3 hours away in Kansas City)…. oh jeez.
And my best friend via college (the perpetual bad call boy) is failing so very much in being an actual friend right now.
I just am sorta lost. And drinking isn’t really doing anything. Which makes me sad. Kind of.
Filed under: Other people, Stupid Boys, Trips | Tags: Portland, snopacalyspe 2K8, weather
Dude, this weather is whack. (Pretty but whack).
I trekked up the hill to Safeway and the sausage store. I only fell once (into a large drift of snow, so even my bananas weren’t bruised.). We watched the news all day; day like 6 of 24/7 Snowpacalypse coverage on the Portland stations. Then we trekked through the snow again to go drinking. A success, I’d say.
I may or may not make it out of here by Christmas Eve (as scheduled). I will be spending Tuesday night at the airport hoping my Wednesday morning flight is not cancelled.
Filed under: Bad Days, Life Goals, School, The New Deal, Trips | Tags: family drama, finals hell, Sopranos, winter break
I have finished my second to last college semester.
I did it in record time (finished early, early Wednesday morning!).
I don’t want to go home (& am seriously considering missing my flight, oops).
I am being killed by winter allergies.
I saw Lucero last week, the crowd was über-douchey, but still a good time (he was sober this time!).
I watched too many episodes of The Sopranos season 2.
I feel good about that, though.
I drank a bottle of cheap French wine with my best college boy.
I still feel good about that, too.
I really don’t want to go home, not that there’s a home to really go to.
I am not talking to my mom (her choice) after this last suicide attempt (she’s still on hold).
I am not responsible for fixing everything.
Umm… have I mentioned yet that I’m going to Lollapalooza this year (against my better judgment/bank account)? Cuz, well I am. And despite the $200 (USD) + price tag, it should be fairly awesome. For real. Like the entire Chitown rap scene is playing! From Lupe to the Cool Kids (who might show this time, versus at last year’s Music Fest NW when they didn’t show and I got stuck watching the fucking Clipse play… ugh.) to Kid Sister (who still doesn’t have an album) and of course to the biggest drama queen in the rap industry… Kanye. The lineup’s not quite as exciting as Intonation two years ago, but still I get the Raconteurs, Cat Power (again), Dr. Dog (!!!!), Dierks Bentley (random choice on their part, but whatever, I’ll run with it), Ha Ha Tonka (!) (formerly known as amsterband who I’ve seen a handful of times and they are clearly the most successful band to come out of the SW MO scene [which I grew up with], so this is hellza exciting!), and Wilco, and Girl Talk and Mark Ronson and the Black Keys, etc. So all in all, it’s expensive for what it is, but I love the Chi and haven’t been there since Intonation, I’m going with Heather and Paloma and I’ll be fresh off the boat from Argentina, so it should all-in-all, at the very least, be something.
Filed under: Música, Trips | Tags: Cain's, concerts, Hayes Carll, Old 97's, Ryan Bingham, Slaid Cleaves, Wale, whiskey drinking girl
And so begins the promised “epic alt-country post.”
I’m going to write for this magazine. (They don’t know it, yet). This is now officially my only post-college plan (outside, of course, of the trailer in the middle of the New Mexico desert). As I said a few days back now, Sunday Heather and I went down to Tulsa for the Old 97’s show at Cain’s. I really enjoy Cain’s as a venue. I’ve yet to find a more alt-country apt venue in my years of not staying put for more than a few months in a row. Sooo, venue love aside, we actually made it Tulsa on time (early, in fact), so unlike the DBT/Ryan Bingham show where we missed about half of Bingham’s set, we were so prepped (and by prepped I mean only behind two ladies in sequined “Bingham” shirts) for the opener.
In the case of last night, it was no Ryan Bingham; however, Hayes Carll (what a ridiculous name, though) was no disappointment. One might go far enough to say he was at points better than the Old 97’s. I’m not really one for concert reviews, so I won’t go into a whole lot of detail, but I can say three things:
1) Hayes Carll is really, really funny. He’s one of the few artists who actually have good in-between banter.
2) Rhett Miller has not aged well and was wearing an ugly T-Shirt and had a fan blowing on him that made him look like my little brother.
3) Hayes Carll’s bassist is ridiculous, looking that is.
Side note, now that I’m in America, I got to see the video for “Bread and Water” and geez louise, Ryan Bingham’s girlfriend is shit at making videos. Coupled with her little short, her artistic future seems a bit weak. Hmm… celoso?
As the show was my first official mixed concert (with me on the 21+ side), Heather and I officially became whiskey drinking girls. Which, of course, led to me talking to one of the band guys (and blowing him off because I’m ridiculously unfocused) and to us sleeping in my car outside the venue.
The Old 97’s were pretty much exactly like what I expected them to be like. They played a good mix of old and new stuff, including my favorite songs from every album. Indeed, “Question” was what I was vomiting to in the bathroom after realizing that whiskey on an empty stomach isn’t really a great mixture for my tummy.
Hayes Carll – “It’s a Shame”
It’s a cute song. Off his major label debut. Not the best of them all, but I really like it a lot.
Old 97’s – “Oppenheimer”
Well, this seemed to be the biggest hit of the night at the show. Admittedly, my memory a bit fuzzy (seriously, I’ve never taken soooo many blurry pictures in my life before), but “Oppenheimer” along with a few other songs brought the house close to coming down. The band never seemed to really just grab the crowd, which was sad, but, hey atleast you could recognize the songs. So that’s something.
Slaid Cleaves – “Another Kind of Blue”
I pretty much love Slaid Cleaves. “Wishbones” is one of my favorite tracks and I rate him as one of Texas’s best singer-songwriters. Today, I just happened to pick up Unsung, his collection of covers from various artists on the scene right now, such as Adam Carroll, or just shortly before now, such as Peter Keane. “Another Kind of Blue” is a Keane cover. And it is real nice. So yeah, that’s pretty much what I’ve got to say about that. Oh, and you can download a whole lot of Peter Keane’s catalog from his website. I suggest it. Because he’s really good.
[[download "Another Kind of Blue"]]
Slaid Cleaves – “Like Poets Do”
From the same album, this time he tackles the punniest man in Texas/pastor/children’s performer/alt-country champion Steve Brooks. In honor of Steve Brooks, I now publish (without consent, of course) an excerpt from his pun “Tex-Mexistentialism”:
“Our Fajita, who art in Huevos, Pollo’d be Muy Bueno. Thy Corona come, thy Chili be Con, on Cuervo it is El Jefe. Forgive us our Tres Amigos, as we forgive those who Seis Salsas against us. Lettuce not into Tomatillo, but Nuevo us from Fritos. For thine is the Gringo, the Agua and the Chorizo. In the name of the Flauta, and of the Flan, and of the Frijole ghost. A-Menudo.”
Puns aside, this song is my favorite off Slaid’s album.
Wale – “The Opening Title Sequence”
Since Carter III still has a week or so til it drops, Wale’s all I got right now (on the hip-hop front, obviously). The internets finally tossed out a tracked version of the mixtape, and I have to say I’m very glad. For the album’s highlights (“The Perfect Plan,” “The Kramer,” etc), it is sooo nice to skip the two minute A&R skit and the album’s lesser songs (i.e. the slow jam for the ladies). With this in mind, I will go out on that limb that few ever do and say I hate skits, intros, interludes, exitludes, etc. With the exception of Bubba’s intro “Takeoff” on Dark Days, Bright Nights, the opener to Wale’s tape is the most sick of opening tracks in the rap world right around now.
Well. My art teacher didn’t give me an extension. Instead in her reply email she tells me to bring my project in tomorrow, i.e. 2 weeks EARLY. As such, I have just finished supergluing a shit-ton (the official calculation) of shiny orange lentejuelas (sequins) in the shape of 14 carrots and an appropriate number of green sequins to complete the carrot tops. Now it is done, but I’m afraid to turn it at a 180 degree angle because I know everything will fall off…. if that doesn’t happen then I get to transport it to San Andres tomorrow via my normal morning commute- although I think I’ll opt for taxi in lieu of the morning subte ride…
Needless to say, I did not pack. Well, that’s a lie. I have packed two bottles of wine, some alfajores and a bunch of other presents. Also a black dress and black heels. Nothing else though. Whatever the outcome, by this time tomorrow I will be almost 5 hours into my flight to Kansas City.
Jeez, I don’t want to go home.
(OH yeah for those out of the loop: I’m going home because Buck is basically dead. Well, at least he was for 7 minutes after the hospital overdosed him on morphine. He’s in a coma in ICU and it ain’t looking good. God speed, papa.)
So yeah change of plans. I’m now going home, i.e. the US of A. For of course the worst of reasons.
See you later, Buenos Aires. (espero que sí).
Pocos días later and I’m back in Buenos Aires. The smoke’s literally cleared, and 45 or so hours of buses later, I’m back in Buenos Aires. While tromping through the Argentine rainforest in a pretty skirt and knee high blue rubber boots, I got distracted from the nature and other deals by the thought of growing old. I’d recently written my best friend that we’d indeed left our glory days. At 21, what more was there for us to do? From here on out, I wrote, it was all down hill. All real jobs and government debt and never-ending schedules with the only highlight in sight a week or two every year of vacation time. Even then, we’d be too tired to really do anything except for shut the blinds, lock the doors, turn off the phone, and sleep for a bit. The day when I can’t have a silly James Dean calender and she can’t have her “Mormons Gone Wild” one will be a sad day, that will, indeed, one day come. But I don’t know. In between barely catching my bus back to Buenos Aires and barely catching the train to San Andrés to take my midterm for lit, I sort of realized, that I can’t actually imagine myself settling down enough to lose these moments where I’m just barely barely barely cutting it.
That said, camping in the rainforest was (obviously) fun. I sort of realized just how separate the income levels in Argentina are. The house we were staying at literally sat on land which the family was gracious enough to host a shack for the groundskeeper and his family of 6. Next door, in between our drunken laughs you could hear (and see) the family sitting outside the house that I originally thought was a barn.
On that note, the US Dollar has risen to $3.18 pesos for $1. That’s the highest it has been in the three months I’ve been in Argentina.
Xzibit – “Alcoholic”
In honor of my fear of the glory days having past; in celebration of their continued existence. As my friend wrote, we’ll always get to have our calendars; we’ll always get to travel and do stupid shit. At least until we get knocked up. So for now, here’s to no babies, no husbands, and no real responsibilities:
