Sitting in the library with too much to do.

There reached a point today where I realized that if I didn't have to look at another computer screen for a long, long time, that I would be all right with that.

Since I decided grocery shopping is a wiser decision than eating out everyday, I now bring my lunch to either school or work. Although cost-efficient, I no longer take the breaks I used to. Pretty soon, I am going to have a rectangular blob burned into my eyeballs. Neat.

Also, I realized that any and all of the bitching I have been doing as of late is completely self-inflicted. Sure, you need a shift covered? I'll be your go-to. Need a ride? Or anything? Cool. I don't need sleep or time off. Resulting, I whine.

Today I was asked to write for the Walker film/video blog. Although ecstatic (which I kept entirely to myself), I was asked to write a bio for myself. I detest having to write - I mean actually write about accomplishments/self indulged/not relating to the banter I write about in here - about myself. It makes me uneasy. Whatever, just chalk it up to one more thing that makes me uncomfortable, not unlike condensation, sharing elevators, etc.

Of course in listing a bit of information about myself, I failed to mention my favorite movie. I did this for a few reasons. A. I don't really have a favorite movie, similar to how I don't really have a favorite band. B. This relates directly to my anxiety that occurs when record shopping because I feel that people are constantly breathing down my neck and judging my selection. and lastly, C. I literally over-looked the subject.

So when my co-worker was going through my ramble, attempting to put together an "about me", he commented that I didn't list a favorite movie, and that if I do grant him permission to put that in the bio without telling him what in fact my favorite movie is, that he would insert Weekend at Bernie's 2 in the slot.

Part of me wanted to grant permission and not say my favorite film.

so it's tuesday

I think my computer is finally going to computer heaven. All day it has been acting up. If it does in fact die, don't put it past me to have a computer funeral. I'm not joking.

Really, I am lacking funny and/or poignant stories as of late.

Upon arriving to the office today, I recalled my anagram and decided that I was not pleased with Manhole Yins, the only one I could recall, so I plugged my name into another generator - mind you, this was the first "task" I chose to take on today - and found two great new anagrams.
One: Hymnal Noise
Two: Mean Shy Lion

I prefer the latter.

howling.

In honor of MLK day, I took part in my annual tradition of thrifting. As if MLK the man was not good enough, the lovely people at Unique and Arc's have 50% off on his nat'l holiday. Hooray for me!

I spent a whopping thirteen dollars. And I got:
One brooch
Two pairs of earings
One red/orange paisley vintage dress
One white cardigan
One white sweater vest
One belt
One wood mounted owl print
One silk neck scarf

Thanks, MLK.

Also yesterday I spoiled myself by purchasing:




Tomorrow's purchase is the new Andrew Bird record.
Then a trip to the bank.

Sorry I am not wittier today, or talking about anything of any substance.

did i mention how good it feels?

I could have sworn I got hit by a bus yesterday evening.

One gas station donut and two ibuprofen later, I went to the hex to see some old friends.
This is what I found:


.
EltonJohnson +1

Tim and AlexanderAugustJohnson

Elizabeth and Donovan

And the Reunification of Cookie & Cream, also known as bestfriendsforever.



Needless to say, the reunification process was rather smooth. The countries are now one, again. Thanks.

scratch neko case.

I say this, because, well, I have found my new re-discovered love to be behind me. Okay, perhaps not a person. A band, more so, and to be particular a song.
Razzle Dazzle Rose. Camera Obscura. And start playing... now.

Although the record was released in 2006, I lost and or sold my old copy, realized this sadly monday, and purchased it yet again. This seems to be my thing lately, re-purchasing records.

About this song, it is everything you could ever want and more.

As for tomorrow night, I cannot decide where my destination is quite yet. I may stop by the hex to see some old friends from Jersey play.

jesus don't cry.

I wonder how many times in my life I will reference Wilco. It is starting to appear that I constantly make mention of them and Jeff Tweedy. Really, they don't consume my thoughts, I swear. It sometimes just happens to seem that way, especially when it is January, especially if it is either cold or fall, or I am in love, or not in love. You get what I mean. It reminds me of the Neko Case mention I made a few days ago. Sometimes you just need a soundtrack, you know?

All right.

I have been writing one million short stories this evening. I decided tonight that I have to be a bit more Gun-ho! about my self-inflicted assignments. Chances are, by the end of this whole debacle, not only I but also the people who have to read them will be terribly, terribly sick of my writing and consequently my writing style. Sorry, suckers.

I also decided to stop lying by writing fiction. Yes, to whomever asked, this is all true, get over it.

But in other news, I just dug through my massive pit of microsoft word documents and found some pretty funny lyrics that christopherstewartjohnson and I penned a few years ago. That felt pretty good.

Then, in the usual way my brain and subsequent memory works, I started thinking about my guitars. You know, lyrics, songwriting. That eventually melds into instruments. Come on, follow me.

So as I was saying, I started thinking about my guitars. I constantly forget that A. I have three of them, B. I can actually play them, and C. Once upon a time I had quite a bit of fun doing that.
Then I got sentimental. For several reasons.

Here is the part where I walk through, in not too arduous detail, my three guitars (not to be confused with My Three Songs or My Three Sons.)

One.
The Martin 12 String from around 1975 (the one on the right - a stock google image, by the way). It was the first thing I learned on. I loved it. A lot. The sound is unparalleled.



Two.
The 1976 Special Edition Martin with stars on the frets. The heirloom that I will love for the rest of my life.


Three.
The Kazuo Yairi Alvarez extremely limited run Natural wood with no additions but abalone inlay throughout the fret board (intentional) and a pick up (unintentional from the makers, intentional by me). It is beautiful. This one is mine mine, meaning I walked into see Jim Harmes with my dad, played almost every guitar in the store and insisted that although it was nearly the most expensive in the store, it was in fact, made for me.

Okay, I lied.

Four.
I almost forgot about my fourth one. It is hilarious.
Yamaha 1997 electric natural wood with no pick guard, or apparent finish. It rules- it looks similar to the Pacifica style. But it, like all of my other pretentious guitars, was a limited edition.

Eat my shorts.

It has a little Indian girl on the back, and also has my name engraved in the back, thanks to yours truly. Now that guitar, that one has memories. Without divulging too much information, I will say: Tom Petty, Jackson Brown, Kansas, The Sundays, and Mazzy Star.

Now that I have talked about this seemingly moot point of my guitars, I forgot what I initially wanted to say. Thanks.

locking doors.

Joey just locked Jolane out of the coffee shop. Customer locking owner out of the coffee shop.

And I just paid my Parking Violation, also known as Fail to Lock Ignition, Remove Key ticket online. Best thirty-four dollars I have spent in a while, I don't know about you.

Think about it. Where would you like to spend your money? Well, you say, I spend it on many things. And I say, Well, perhaps you should think about it a bit more, maybe take your keys out of your car and not get a ticket. That's one less thing to spend your money on.

In other news, it is the coldest of the cold in Minneapolis today. While running errands for the coffee shop - on the worst possible day, mind you - I caught the twenty-five pound bag of sugar on a corner and sugar spilled all over the snow. Which is sugar and which is snow? I asked myself. For a moment, I stared down at the snow bank and contemplated lifting piles of snow/sugar back into the bag. I didn't, in case you were wondering.

kamera

hilarity. pure fun.
and you ask why, yet I say My lips are not spewing a thing.

I'm a Wheel.

I fold way, way too easily.

Truly, it is astounding that my house is not jam-packed with knick-knacks and chia pets based on how easily I give in to suggestive anything.

You say jump, and I say, well, okay, I guess, what do I get? And if there is even remotely a giggle or blush in it for me, I will. So now you know all of my secrets.

I lost a battle tonight. It's true. I raced with a friend, and I ran a tough, long stretch. Alas, he was victorious, and I was left with pink cheeks.

Oh the fun of Friday nights.

So when I said I wanted to be your dog, Jens Lekman, what I really meant to say was, I wanted to be your friend.

And when I said I wanted Neko Case behind me at all times, I was not lying. Sure, you say, Way to try and be endearing. I say No, that infact I truly want, "Go Places" sung in the background, preferably a few feet behind me, at any given moment. Or perhaps any other of her songs, given that particular one is the New Pornographers.

What better way to end this than with my horoscope for the day.
Your secret may not be kept much longer. You're bursting with strong emotions and if someone else doesn't spill the beans, you're likely to do it yourself.

Waterpot

Some days I swear Neko Case should be behind me. I don't say that in a weird way, or in a tongue in cheek way. I say it literally. Behind me, with every motion, she would sing and consequently narrate the moments of my life.

That said.

Today is January 6th. It is 11:45 and I am fully dressed, fully awake, and sitting at school.
Initially I came here to get and fill out a packet to please the bureaucratic system, since I had no other pressing plans for today. I pulled up to find every parking space filled. Now sets in the questioning. Had I, the person who is habitually early for everything arrived late for the first week of classes? I parked, walked in, checked my mail, and sat at a seat beside a window. How could you be so calm? You ask. I reply without hesitation, I wasn't - It's a routine... a bit, if you will.

Quickly I checked my calender, which I so conveniently have gone without for the past three weeks. Alas, classes begin next week. As I thought. But this brought up a new questions - am I one of those people that relies on her calender?

I swore when I was younger that I would never be that person that heavily relies on a phone, a calender, a watch. As of today, I have officially become that person.

Now that the initial panic has passed, I am really at a loss of what to do today. For a moment, I thought my day was planned out - asl and film. Once again, there is nothing.

Neko Case should really be behind me.

Thanks, I know.

So i am still terribly bored at work.

Not only am i sick, but i am at a loss for what to do with myself. I have a pretty good feeling that this will become a common boredom relief.
Sidenote:
I made a wonderful play list for work on Thursday. The last song was "I'm the man who loves you" by Wilco. Now it is Mogwai, "I know what you are..."

For some reason, I just remembered that in early December, a mentor of mine said, You are the budding Joyce Carol Oates of your time. I said Thanks. Quickly I left the room. As soon as I entered the hallway, I wanted to shout back, No, I'm not! But I didn't. Luckily.

However my brain decided to recall that interaction, I'm unsure. But what I am sure of is how weird things tend to happen to me. And how all I can say in return is Thanks. Granted, it is a polite way to follow comments, particularly flattering or complimentary ones, often times my Thanks leaves me feeling like an asshole. Almost as if I were replying with I know.

Kind of like if someone were to say, Congratulations on life! and I would respond with, I know.

It's weird, these idiosyncrasies we fall into.

Now that the initial post is out of the way, it now feels appropriate - more so all right - to make a real life posting. So back story. I have dreaded making a blog since the word "blog" came to be. Something about it felt apropos to nothing, or perhaps to everything every other being was doing. So I resisted.
But here comes the explanation of my folding, giving in, collapse, or however you wish. I spent Monday night conversing with a dear friend, to which we talked of pop culture, music, jobs, life, Minneapolis, the world, Minneapolis again, a bit more counter intuitive bullshit, and then we stopped. Literally we stopped. He smiled and asked why I don't write this down. I had no real answer. And that brings us to here. Now when I think/talk of my daily ramblings, they will go down in history, or perhaps the black hole that is the internet.

And so we begin.

Over the past month or so, I have been reverting in habitual practice to a younger me. Really? You ask. Yes, I respond. Then you follow up with a, How so? And then I tell you. I started buying records again. I know. Nobody buys CDs or records anymore. Tell me about it. Well quite frankly I find it to be sad. I cannot recall what brought me into the Electric Fetus a month or so ago, but whatever it was hooked me, and I don't understand why I ever stopped. When I was seventeen I used to go to either Electric Fetus or Cheapo once a week. Then, I had no real expenditures, so I literally would walk in with at least one hundred dollars to spend at my leisure. And so I would. For a seventeen year old, I listened to so much music. And although I have listened to quite a bit of music still, I lost that outing, the thrill of walking through the aisles and flipping cd after cd often times in search of nothing.

Yo La Tengo. That is what brought me there. I had lost my copy of And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out and nothing else would do - I had to listen to You Can Have It All. That was what brought me back. Anyways.

I don't think I have a real point in talking about the Electric Fetus so much. Remember, today I love cold medicine.

Back to my love of record shopping. It makes me feel like a real creep. Maybe because I peer over at what others are buying. Or maybe, just maybe, because I get so socially uncomfortable only within the confines of a record store that I become a jerk. Really, I do. I don't know what happens to me. Perhaps I feel like I will be judged on my selection, just like I secretly watch everyone else. Who cares. I just remembered why I started this in the first place.

I bought Apostle of Hustle "National Anthem of Nowhere" [2007 a/c] on Tuesday. The record, for lack of better adjectives is great. Alongside I too bought Blitzen Trapper's "Furrr" [2008 SubPop]. When I listened to the records back-to-back, I realized I made projections about these bands merely two years ago. AoH was immediate in terms of time frame - it uses similar song progressions like Broken Social Scene (who they are most commonly linked with - shared members, Canadian, Arts and Crafts, you do the math...), yet they lack the intended complexity of a twelve member band that BSS is, while maintaining and surpassing the ingenuity that I think brought most people to like BSS in the first place.
As for Blitzen Trapper, I have only given the record one go around. It hits on my previous projections (which i have not mentioned until now: folk inspired pop that dares to transcend the lines of past genre norms.) I would say that later I would touch on this, but really, what's the point. Steve McPherson already wrote an accurate write up about them and the record in City Pages last week.

I am looking forward to the future. Especially the future in relation to music. Wilco has a new record coming out, as well as Andrew Bird and Grizzly Bear, to name a few. Really, it should be a good spring.

Soon to come, wilco stories. And oh, the lot of them.

sunday morning

i laid in bed for the entirety of saturday. part of it felt great, and part of it felt terrible.
yet, as i lay there, i listed in my brain all of things i should be doing, all of the things i want to be doing.

so here it is. after one lost day, i made a resolution of sorts to a friend, and am now following through.

welcome technology. i now have a blog.