Even when you touch my face, you know your place
Via molfe: Joanna Newsom
I’ve done the same thing he did. Downloaded "The Book of Right On" and listened to it 200+ times.
Three things you should know, which will most likely turn you off and which rightly turned me off initially.
- She plays the harp.
- She sounds like a cross between Kate Bush and Olive Oil.
- Pitchfork gave her new album a 9.4.
Despite these things...
In the book of right on, it is right on.
- 11/26/2006 8:18:07 PM |
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He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree
The 25 Funniest Analogies (Collected by High School English Teachers)
The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.
Also, an unrelated post-Thanksgiving post.
The Myth of Tryptophan.
Say it ain’t so. I’ve been relying on this myth for my annual Thanksgiving naps since I can remember hearing Kramer discuss tryptophan’s sedative qualities on Seinfeld. Now I’ll just have to get drunk.
- 11/26/2006 9:55:53 AM |
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The familiar seems strange
Richard Powers’ The Echo Maker won the National Book Award.
Powers’ book refers often to the news of the time, setting his narrative against the shock of Sept. 11 and the determined path to the Iraq war. Two fiction finalists were equally topical; Jess Walters’ "The Zero" and Ken Kalfus’ "A Disorder Peculiar to the Country" were both set around the terrorist attacks. The other nominees were Mark Z. Danielewski’s free verse, time traveling "Only Revolutions" and Dana Spiotta’s "Eat the Document," a story of 1970s radicals hiding their past.
I’ve heard good things about The Zero and keep forgetting to put it on my list.
- 11/19/2006 7:00:05 AM |
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Dirt Nap
I just like the title.
I was recently told all my titles sound alike. I don’t know that this is bad, but I also have a hard time deciding if that’s even true.
I’ve been busy of late. Busier than usual. I’ll be taking a dirt nap soon, trust me. One of the things that is finally done, though, is the Frankenstein known as the first issue of...
Front Porch
We’ve got some great writers in this first issue. Roddy Doyle. Charles D’Ambrosio. Richard Ford reading from his new novel. A bunch of poets. I know. I know. Poets. Still, take a gander. It’s the fruit of some serious labor.
I’ve got two more weeks of school (off next week) and then I’m done until next semester.
- 11/17/2006 6:54:29 PM |
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Masterfade (lyrics)
Well you sure didn’t look like you were having any fun / with that heavy-metal gaze they’ll have to measure in tons / and when you look up at the sky / all you see are zeros / all you see are zeros and ones / you took my hand and lead me down to watch a kewpie doll parade / we let the kittens lick our hair and drank our chalky lemonade / it’s not that I just didn’t care I must admit I was afraid / and I’m awfully glad my finger’s resting gently on the masterfade / the masterfade / I coulda played along / the masterfade / I coulda played Mah Jongg / but it just takes too long / and I just can’t remember / which way the east wind blows does it matter? / If we’re all matter/ what’s it matter does it matter / if we’re all matter when we’re done? / when the sky is full of zeros and ones / I saw you standing all alone in the electrostatic rain / I thought at last I’d found a situation you can’t explain / with GPS you know it’s all just a matter of degrees / your happiness won’t find you underneath that canopy of trees / if the green grass is 6 the soybeans are 7 / the junebugs are 8 the weeds and thistles are 11 / and if the 1s just hold thier place the 0s a smiley face / when they come floating down from the heavens / you took my hand and lead me down to watch a papillon parade / we let the kittens lick our hair and drank our chalky lemonade / you squeezed my hand and told me softly that I shouldn’t be afraid / ’cause all the while your finger’s resting gently on the masterfade / the masterfade / I coulda played along / the masterfade / I coulda played Mah Jongg / but it just takes too long / and who the hell can remember / which way the east wind blows / when your lying on the ground / staring up at an inverted compass / I mean Christ who Knows?
-Masterfade by Andrew Bird
This song is nearly perfect in every respect.
- 11/4/2006 5:23:27 PM |
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Seven Spanish Ipods
The seven phases of owning an iPod.
I think I’m on the "left it in the Trooper and forgot about it, only to rediscover it" phase, but that’s just me. Since Christmas is approaching, I’ll be quick to transfer to the "you are dead to me" phase.
- 11/4/2006 5:19:04 PM |
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