Tag Archive: music

Weekend Update, starring me!


That’s the kind of morning it’s been.  It has been, in every conceivable way, the worst case scenario.  And in some cases, worse than we imagined.  But I won’t bore you with the minutiae of my craptastic morning, and let it suffice to say that I’ve had a few cups of tea and things are looking less worse.  Let’s talk about some happy things.

Like the weekend!  I’ll let it be known here that I have a few issues with SXSW, namely the large amount of douchebags it brings into our fair city.  But that’s not what I’m here to talk about.  Because if there was ever a refuge, a safe haven if you will, from SXSW douchebaggery of all kinds, it would be Mojo’s Mayhem at the Continental Club.  Somehow Steve and Mojo Nixon have figured out the perfect recipe for douche repellent, and a bit of uber-crass psychobilly doesn’t hurt either.  Mick and I go every year, and every year it’s an all-day raucous blast.  One of my favorite things is to watch the crowd rotate throughout the day; not many of us last from 10am to 6pm, and the variety of bands tends to draw a wide variety of fans.  In the morning, there’s the relatively-unheard-of bands that bring in the younger, hipper crowd.  Around midday they start with the Austin legends (John Dee Graham, James McMurtry, etc), and the older crowd of hippies moves in.  The next-to-last band gets a little more rowdy (last year was Dash Riprock, this year the Mother Truckers), and then almost every year Mojo Nixon and the Toadliquors will round out the evening.  By that point, the crowd consists mostly of punks and drunks and hardcore fans, and it’s really brilliant.  I had the privelege of rocking out at the front of the crowd next to a couple in their late 60s who were having the best time.  There’s nothing like watching a 68-year-old woman singing “tie my pecker to my leg” to brighten your day; if that doesn’t make you smile, you are soulless indeed. 

Afterwards Mick, Naj, and I trekked over to Home Slice for some pizza, which was FILLED TO THE BRIM with out-of-town douchebags.  But the food was great, so it almost made up for it.  I felt very sorry for the staff there.  I remember those days. 

And in not-so-exciting news, I spent Sunday in Georgetown with the ‘rents.  It’s always a nice way to spend a Sunday, laid back and not really doing much.  For me anyways, dad and my brother spent the afternoon working on my car. :)   I, on the other hand, chatted with ma and helped make some brownies, helped her pick out clothes for their upcoming cruise, and played about 3 hours worth of Mario Galaxy on the wii.  For the record, I am terrible at almost all video games, but Mario is a fun way to kill some time.  

Another bonus of spending a day with my parents is that I always come home with more than I left with.  Yesterday I was gifted with some adorable owl planters, a handful of wisteria cuttings, some leftover chinese food, and an ungodly amount of saffron. 

(my dad is awesome)

crackberry shown for scale

I didn’t bring home that whole bag.  That’s how much was left after I filled up about half of a mason jar.  In other words, that right there is about $500 worth of saffron, on the US market anyways.  In Israel, where it came from, that’s about $5.  If I were only slightly more industrious, I’d set up shop on the street corner or outside the 7-11, peddling imported saffron to the youth.  Youth who are crying out for more flavorful risotto, who are tired of ”the establishment’s” piss-poor paella.  But instead I’ll probably just hoard it and eat a lot of yellow food in the upcoming months.  The search for good saffron recipes begins!  I’ll let you know how it goes. 

And that brings us back around to today, which you’ve already heard enough about.  Mick is off getting a physical, I’m stuck here, and that’s about where we stand.  I haven’t had time to check out any news of the day, so I can’t bring you any goodies just yet.  Maybe tomorrow will be better.  I try to be my best. 

You kids be good.  I’ll chat with you tomorrow.

Yeah, I’m lame, so what?

Well, I’m not quite sure what to say.  I’ve been specializing lately in dull and boring, “low key”, you might call it.  Which is really nice for my mental state, but not so nice for blogging.  The only thing I have to tell you about is the westerns I watched and the bags I knitted. 

However, as I write this, Mick is playing his guitar.  I love the way it sounds drifting in from the other room.  He doesn’t play nearly as much as he used to; I’ve always loved listening to him.  Occasionally he’ll even sing.  I know he doesn’t think he’s all that great, but I love it anyways.  It’s how he proposed, you know.  He’s sweet like that. 

The Kentuckian is on tv right now, and I’m having a hard time watching it because the star, Burt Lancaster, looks a lot like our friend David Newbould.  Maybe I should knit Dave an orange hat like that.  I’ve still been knitting on these damn market bags, two down so far and two more to go.  If I’m feeling industrious, I might try and bust out a fifth one using the leftovers from the other four.  I’ve only got three or four other projects lined up behind it, and only a few weeks left before the show. 

But back to The Kentuckian…I’m only watching it because I watched the movie that was on before it, North To Alaska.  It’s a John Wayne movie that somehow had escaped me before now.  I gotta say, I enjoyed it.  The Duke plays an Alaskan miner who strikes it big with his partner, and agrees to go to Seattle to bring back his partner’s fiance.  When he arrives only to find the fiance has gone on and married someone else, he decides to bring back another girl to help mend his friend’s broken heart.  But of course, The Duke and the girl fall for each other, hilarity and hijinks ensue, and in the end he wins out.  But not before a huge brawl in the muddy streets, complete with goats and drunks and eskimos.  I will say this: I enjoy some good slapstick now and then, but the goofy sound effects really don’t do it for me.  Slide whistles, little birdie noises, the quintessential “boing!” when someone falls down, it’s all just so silly.  I know that may seem very high-brow of me, my apologies.  Other than that, there was a lot of very laughable moments.  I recommend.

I’m afraid to say that tomorrow probably won’t bode much better for blogging on the excitement scale.  All that’s on my agenda is going to the grocery store and…well, that’s it so far.  I’ll try and think of something exciting to do and tell you about.  Enjoy your evening!

Lazy ass hippie like me.

Good morning guys.  I feel the need to apologize once again for no post yesterday.  The whole reason for starting this project was so that we’d write every day, and lately I’ve been slacking a bit.  Of course we also had anticipated having sponsors most days, which would at least give us some material, but that hasn’t been coming through as well as we’d hoped.  For some reason, I’m in a bit of a slump lately; I’m feeling totally and completely uninspired.  The last few days that I’ve skipped were because I simply felt like I had nothing worth saying.  Or some days I’ll start a blog and then, upon reading back over it, realize that I’m just bitching about stupid uninteresting shit and delete the whole thing.  Such was the case yesterday.

It doesn’t help that Mick is effin brilliant and everything he posts is always interesting or funny or insightful.  Some days he makes me feel like a moron.  Not on purpose, of course, just by comparison.  I’m not used to being in a relationship with an intellectual person, sometimes it catches me a bit off-guard. 

They say 3 percent of the people use 5 to 6 percent of their brain
97 percent use only 3 percent and the rest goes down the drain
I’ll never know which one I am but I’ll bet you my last dime
99 percent think we’re 3 percent 100 percent of the time

Yeah, it’s more Todd Snider.  I know I’ve raved at lengths about this man already, but I think it’s deserved.  He’s my kind of philosopher.  If you watched the last video I posted, you’ll see what I mean.  He has a glorious talent of taking the things that I think and articulating them better than I ever could.  He may not realize that’s what he’s doing, but it is.

I admire his hippiness.  Not hipness, hippiness.  Because for all my punk rock heavy metal tendencies, I’m just a dirty hippy at heart. 

Well I just brewed myself a pot of pu-ehr, and I should probably get back to doing some work.  You know, since I’m at work and all.  That reminds me, I have yet to tell you about some teas that I picked up a while back!  Maybe I’ll get on that tonight or tomorrow, and soon I should have a new pattern to share for something I’ve seen described as a “baby burrito”.

Keep cool, my babies.

Yo! And good afternoon to you cats as well. It’s another rainy dreary day here in Austin, which means I am royally screwed in the allergy department.  I snuck out of work about 45 minutes early today and forced myself to nap for an hour or two.  I don’t feel much better, but I don’t have a fever so hopefully it will pass when the rain lets up tomorrow. 

I did, however, hear a neat song on the radio on my way home from work.  Thank you KOOP for playing a funky new version of “In the Flesh” (you know, from The Wall) by Fol Chen.  I heard it right as I was pulling into the driveway and sat and listened to the whole thing before going inside.  It’s not even that the song was amazing or brilliantly redone, I just couldn’t remember the last time I had heard it.  And what surprised me the most is I found myself singing along to words I thought I’d forgotten years ago.  I guess they might be hard-coded into my brain by now.  I blame my 13th summer. (I’m estimating here, because I’m not sure how old I was and the amount of time I wasted meant there couldn’t have been school at the time.)  We had just moved to a new city, 3 hours away from everyone I’d known my whole life.  I didn’t fit in, didn’t have many friends at first, it was just me and Spud (that’s my brother, btw).  And my dad bought us a computer game: Star Wars: Dark Forces.  It’s a pretty standard first person shooter, at least for the time it was out, and Spud was savvy enough even at 11 to dig up cheat codes for us.  I would put that thing on invincibility mode and play for hours and hours and hours, the whole time listening to The Wall in the background.  Over and over and over.  I’d play through the entire game in one sitting, then do it again the next day.  So somewhere rattling around in the depths of my brain is every note and every word to The Wall, etched into a lobe like graffiti on a bathroom stall.  And, on days like today when I hear something that brings it all back, I don’t even have to think about it.  My mouth says the words almost involuntarily without my brain even being involved.  It’s a strange feeling when I’m aware of it, even stranger when I’m not.  Sometimes I talk without realizing I’m talking at all, and if you asked me what I just said I’d tell you I didn’t say anything.  But that’s another story for another time.  I also have a twitch, but that’s not important. 

I’m not sure what was important about that little diatribe.  I guess it says something that my formative years were filled with sci-fi and psychedelic rock, seeing that my later years are too.  And then I married a man who also cherished these things, who also happened to be my absolute soul mate.  So I guess not fitting in at 13 gave me the awesome life I have now.  There’s probably some after-school special moral to the story, but I’ll skip that and just say this: you gotta play the hand you’re dealt, because you never know what you’ll land on the turn.  Maybe you’ll get lucky on the flop, who knows. 

Or maybe you’re fucked, it’s not my call.  I don’t know everything.  I just write shit on the internet. 

And here’s a sponsor for ya today: you know how when you’re sick you get that horrible dry nose thing going on, where it hurts to touch it with even those really expensive tissues with the lotion and the aloe and various oozes?  Best cure ever: Burt’s Bees Lemon Butter Cuticle Cream.  It’s normally formulated for, well, cuticles, but it works great on skin all over.  It’s not greasy and slimy like vasoline, and it’s all-natural and non-toxic so it’s okay if you accidentally eat a little.  And it smells awesome.  It works great for chapped lips too!   Plus it’s inexpensive and you can find it at most drug stores.  Sometimes if your skin is really bad it might sting a little at first, but it’s totally worth it. 

And with that, I think I’m going to force some food into me.  Maybe my favorite sick meal of eggs and toast, or maybe just a cup of applesauce.  Not sure how I’m feeling just yet.  Hopefully I’ll be better and raring to go tomorrow, just in time for THE HOLY DEUCE at the Alamo Drafthouse this weekend! See y’all there!

I woke up with a song in my head, the line partially ripped off from a Springsteen song.  Then I turned on the radio in the car, only to hear another Springsteen song.  So I figured ‘why fight it?’, and went ahead and plugged in the iPod for the day.  It must just be that kind of a day.  What kind?  I’m not sure yet.  But I’m guessing The Boss will let me know. 

He did already remind me of one of my favorite credos, “No Retreat, No Surrender”.  I needed to be reminded of that today. 

So you probably want to know what I thought of The Residents, eh?  Wondering what you missed?  Well, um…let me start out by saying I don’t think I was at all in the right frame of mind for that show.  It was not what I expected.  I was expecting a show, a spectacle, something amazing and mind-blowing and worth waiting 20 years for.  What I got was a schizophrenic clown and two gimps squealing out a horror-movie soundtrack over a mediocre light show, and I ended up being bored after about 20 minutes.  Those first 20 minutes, though, were creepy and trippy and fun.  But then, instead of taking me somewhere else, expanding and building on that excellent beginning, it just felt like they stagnated into the same thing over and over again for another hour.  And maybe I was in the bathroom when they handed out the good drugs, because everyone around me seemed to really be into the whole thing.  Mick loved it, smiled giddily through the entire show.  I think one girl summed it up best on our way out: they should have played at Elysium.  If I’m going to go to an industrial metal freakshow, I’d at least like to be indoors and sitting down.  Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying it was bad at all.  I suppose in the right frame of mind, it could be really cool.  I just wasn’t there.  I was cold.  I was bored.  I was slightly claustrophobic.  I spent a good ten minutes burying one of my feet in the dirt.  I feel like I was missing something. 

As an aside, what used to be Room 710 is now a slightly generic-looking establishment called Valhalla…someone please tell me this is a bitchin black metal bar!  Not some crappy eurotrash shit as I fear.

I cursed myself later for having that Red Bull during the show, because I hardly slept last night.  The two hours or so that I had were filled with a strange dream involving training with two large Japanese-looking swords and playing a 24-string bass guitar that was 100 years old and cost half a million dollars.  Apparently, according to the infallible interwebs, swords are a symbol of ambition, willpower, or, alternatively, phallic manhood.  The guitar represents passion, and playing it well says that you’re satisfied with your love life.  So if I were to interpret some sort of meaning from this dream, it might be this: now that my love life is completely satisfying and under control, I’m free to learn to weild my ambition and willpower constructively in other areas of my life.  Watch out, world!  I’m comin ‘atcha!  With a katana!

And on one last note, our good friend David Newbould is keeping a blog of his latest tour with Nashville sensation Natalie Stovall.  You should check it out!  http://davidnewbould.blogspot.com.  There’s videos of performances, upcoming dates, and all kinds of other fun stuff.  Go see!

Well, I’m gonna get back to work, but maybe if you’re lucky I’ll be on again later.  Kisses!

Trying to feel Residential.

Well boys and girls, it’s another fabulous Tuesday here at the ol’ sweatshop, and I’m here slaving away for my sad little wages.  Ok, it’s not really that bad, but you know how day jobs can be.  Especially when it’s cold and grey outside and all I want to do is curl up under a quilt and nap and watch movies.  Herzog movies.  But I think any job that would require me being outside right now would probably be worse than where I’m at.  I was looking at open positions yesterday, and thought about the “Parking Enforcement Officer” spot…and then I thought to myself you’ll be outside all the time and people will hate you and curse you, and decided that was not the career path for me.  I’ll enjoy the crappy weather from inside my bunker, with my hot tea and my yummy marshmallow candy. 

Isn’t he sweet

Tonight, however, we’ll be out in the cold and the crap, because we’re going to see The Residents.  At Stubbs.  Outside.  But I came prepared!  I left the house this morning with long sleeves, a hoodie, a blazer, and a coat, plus scarf, gloves, and hat.  And as long as it doesn’t rain, I think I’ll be alright.  Mick is really excited about the whole thing, and I’m hoping this second pot of super-caffeinated tea will help me get into the spirit of things. 

I’ve also just done a bit of yarn shopping, so I’m feeling better about life and the world in general.  Yarn shopping has a tendency to do that to me.  I look at the fresh new skeins and it fills me with the hope of possibility.  You could be anything, little ball of string!  I will take you and shape you and make you into something lovely!  Is that what it feels like to be a parent? 

Except a scarf won’t tell me it hates me, wreck my car, get arrested, deal drugs, listen to terrible pop music, or get a tribal armband tattoo.  Neither will a dog, for that matter.  Which is why puppies are infinitely better than children.  Sure, they poop on the floor once in a while, but I’ll never have to pay thousands of dollars a year to put it through school.  Score one for puppies.  

I miss having a dog.  I fear getting a new one since I’m never home and wouldn’t have time to give it the training and attention it deserves, but walking around the park is really boring by yourself and I’m constantly worried about being attacked and murdered in the woods.  Luckily I found a big pointy don’t-rape-and-murder-me-or-i’ll-beat-your-ass stick to carry with me, but it’s just not the same.  Coming home to an empty, quiet house is also very depressing when you’re used to always having someone to come home to.  

Just another reason why I should be working from (or close to) home. 

Alright, time for me to wrap up some final bits of responsibility before heading out into the tundra.  I’ll catch you cats on the flipside.

…and we’re back!  It’s another Sunday come and almost gone, which makes me very sad.  Sundays are often my favorite days, probably because I’m allowed to be lazy for most of the day and not feel bad.  Plus there’s cartoons in the evening and I don’t feel bad for going to bed early. 

As far as Sundays go, it hasn’t been the best, but it’s alright.  While Mick was napping earlier I made myself a big ol’ fire in the fireplace, partly because our house has been unusually cold lately and partly because I like watching things burn.  So now I’m watching it do its thing and thinking about that half a piece of cheesecake in the fridge. 

AND THEN THE CHEESECAKE WAS NO MORE!  Of course leave it to the TV gods to toss up a Jillian Michaels commercial as I’m stuffing my face.  Thanks.  But hey, here’s some free advertising for today:  If you’re ever in the neighborhood of Mopac and Braker, swing through the big shopping center and check out Just Desserts, a divine little pastry shop offering up a bazillion kinds of cheesecake daily, all oh so delicious.  The key lime is amazing, and I’m also a fan of the mandarin orange.  The piece I just scarfed was a traditional turtle, and it was awesome.  So forget the Cheesecake Factory, support local business and eat better cheesecake.  Go get your Just Desserts!  (Also, it’s right across the way from Mighty Fine, and the perfect way to top of a goddamn tasty hamburger.)

Well, in case your wondering, the Todd Snider show last night was AWESOME.  He actually had two opening bands, neither of which I had ever heard of.  First up, The Tricias…I’m normally not one for chick bands, but these gals were amazing.  Part CSNY, part A.M.E Choir, and a few Nick Cave-esque dirges thrown into the mix; these girls are what the Dixie Chicks wish they were.  Check out this video:

Next up was a honky tonk band from Denver, the Great American Taxi.  They were fun, and the old folks were having a blast.  It was a strange hybrid bluegrass jam band, I’m not sure if it was in a good way or not.  But there were plenty of “ladies of a certain age” doing that strange dance that they do…you know the one, where they bounce their knees and point to the band while they’re singing along.  So there was a lot of that, and it went on for a little longer than it should have.  In the words of my very pregnant friend Stephanie in the row behind me, “it wasn’t as good as a taco.”

But then there was Todd, so it was all okay.  He’s a brilliant songwriter, and a hell of a lot of fun to watch.  And it’s not your typical rock show either; with his bare feet and his floppy hat, he’s a modern-day pied piper, and the entire audience hangs on his every word.  People don’t talk, most don’t scream or whistle (except the occasional drunken frat boy), they just sit and listen.  And he’s more than happy to sing and tell stories and play requests.  And people are actually excited when he says he’s going to play a new song!  Crazy, right?  He’s that brilliant.  And you can tell by the humongous stoner grin that he gets that the man is having a great time doing it too. Here’s another video, just for grins:

So that was definitely the highlight of my weekend, week, January, you know.   And I can say that, because tomorrow is February.  Which means only two weeks till my birthday!  And yes, I am happy to still be at an age where birthdays are an exciting thing, not a dreadful thing.  Although now that I’m officially pushing 30, I do get a little apprehentious sometimes.  Don’t tell anybody though. 

In honor of my birthday, here’s a carousel of things you can buy for me!

(right here)


Couldn’t help myself, sorry.  Came across that in my daily perusings of the Cheezburger Network and it made me happy.  Or happier, I should say, as I already have myself a pot of Gyokuro Kin and am rockin the ELO, which is a recipe for instant happiness, if you ask me.  Also on my list of delightful things for today, I ate lunch at a restaurant that serves nothing but grilled cheese sandwiches and soup.  Not just any grilled cheese sandwiches, mind you, fancy schmancy grilled cheese sandwiches!  I had a gruyere/havarti on rye with tomato basil soup, and it was amazing.  I hear they have a pretty rockin mac and cheese too, which I will have to try at a later date.  Because I will be going back, that is for damn sure.  If you’re in town, check it out: Chedd’s in The Triangle (at the intersection of Lamar and Guadalupe); I hear they’re a franchise too, so check their website to see if there’s one near you. 

And in case you’re wondering, yes we went to the gym last night and I had a blast.  Mick, on the other hand, doesn’t seem too sure about the whole thing yet.  But for me, it felt great to get back into the swing of things.  I’ve always enjoyed exercising and it definitely felt good to burn a little.  And, even better, it doesn’t look like I’m too far from where I left off!  At least on the machines, I’m using the same amount of weight I was three years ago without much strain.  Today I’m getting back on the freeweights, even though I’m sure my form has gone to shit and I’ll probably have to start with 5s and 10s.  Only complaint is the place was a bit crowded, but what do you expect at 5:30?  We’ll see if 4:00 does me any better today.

I did start reading A Game of Thrones yesterday while on the treadmill, but I only got about 10 pages into it.  So no news to report there, sorry.  I’m still working my way through Dune, though, and still really loving it despite having fallen asleep while reading the last two nights.  Not indicative of the novel, just of me being exhausted. 

I wasn’t planning on going anywhere serious with this blog today, but something’s been bugging me all day and I just feel like venting before it stews into anger.  I mentioned earlier that I’m a follower of Amanda Palmer on Twitter; I do this because I think she’s interesting, she’s intelligent, and she’s ballsy.  These are all things I admire in people and hope to cultivate in myself.  Now I don’t give two shits about the Golden Globes, but I did catch the photos of her and Neil on the red carpet and have read some rather snarky postings regarding her outfit and conduct.  I believe the word “famewhore” was tossed around.  And I wanted to grab and shake these commenters violently!  There is a difference between a famewhore attitude and a not-giving-a-fuck attitude.  It may be a blurry one, but it’s there.  And I can understand, in these days of realityTV and people being famous simply for being famous, that people are used to the famewhore celebrity thing and the bitches that sport it (Real Housewives? Jersey Shore?).  But (and permit me to speak about a person like I know them even though I really don’t) I gotta say that from everything I’ve read about the woman, mostly from her own mouth, Amanda Palmer does not strike me as a famewhore.  She is fucked up and weird in the best sorts of ways, talented, creative, and quite a lovely creature, and I think she should be appreciated for those qualities.  And what struck me as ironic is that the commenters and such that were crying “famewhore” also kept repeating the phrase “I’ve never heard of this person” and the like.  I guess what I’m getting at is this: I am so glad I’m not famous.  Because I could see myself getting into many similar situations and cast into a similar pool; I guess not giving a damn should preclude me from worrying about what’s written about me in blogs and on postings, but I think that it would irritate me just a little.  I’d probably act along the lines of Felicia Day in her stand against Vanity Fair: a mature, well-written response explaining my side of things and nicely telling you to fuck off with your ignorant self.  And I guess one of the things that really bugs me is that in both cases (Amanda and Felicia), the prime offenders were women!  And rather than being proud of an intelligent ballsy woman doing what she wants and defining her own happiness, they try to tear her down and belittle her accomplishments.  Can you explain that to me?  I’m not saying we should all lock arms and sing kumbaya and have a big estrogen-fest, but why not give some props to a girl who decides to be more than just a pretty face (even though she’s definitely got one of those too, and a pair of legs to boot)?  Is it ignorance?  Jealousy?  I just can’t understand it.  Whatever it is, I think I speak for a great many when I say “Amanda, I got your back.” 

(That’s when I throw down the microphone and do a Diamond Dave leap off my soapbox.)

Oh yeah, and if anyone has some first-hand (or close) knowledge of hoodoo and/or Hatian voodoo, I’m getting ready to kick off a new screenplay while the other one is lost in the quagmire of not-eve-pre-production.  Shoot me an email or something.  There just might be a pie in it for you!


And another good morning to you!  I’m quite proud of myself for sleeping all the way till 9:30 today.  I almost crawled out of bed at 7:30, but convinced myself to stay just a little longer.  Part of me wishes I would have got up, because the resulting dream was sort of unsettling in a way I don’t quite understand.  Based on my real life plans for today (tea shopping!), it involved

  • our kitchen sink exploding,
  • a friend from middle school stealing my car,
  • another friend’s GF leaving him on my account,
  • a tour of a museum and its secret heart research lab full of celebrities,
  • a puffy jacket given to me by Little Wayne,
  • on-campus horse races

I think there was more, but that’s all I remember.  All in two hours!  My brain is busy in the mornings.

But now I’m up, and back to burning Dr. Who DVDs.  Right now I happen to be doing the series that occured on my birthday!  I think that’s pretty neat.  Only like 8 more discs to go!

Well if you read Mick’s blog, you would have heard all about Stunt Rock.  If you didn’t read Mick’s blog, go do that now.  And then you’ll see why this might be the most perfect movie for me.  It has, in no particular order:

  • good looking stunt men
  • sweet classic cars
  • heavy metal
  • pyrotechnics
  • the most un-gay magic show ever
  • fluffy dogs

Yep, it’s pretty near perfect.  And Mick is right, there’s almost no plot whatsoever.  But what it does have is seamless inserts of dual-screen stunt feats (by leading man Grant and other famous stuntmen), a neat section of classic footage from “the zany 20’s”, a whole concert by Sorcery, and a wisecraking keyboardist who always wears a hood.  I said it was because he’s albino, but nobody else seemed to go for that idea.  I also made the claim that I’m going to own a Sorcery record, and soon.  While www.sorcerymusic.com has plenty of CDs and DVDs, it’s just not the same.  I need the vinyl.  I’m crazy like that.  Unfortunately the only thing I could find is the awesome-looking Stunt Rock soundtrack 2-disc LP…for $75 on ebay.  Sad panda.  And before you misunderstand me, it’s not that I wouldn’t pay that much for this record (I SO WOULD), but until we start getting a lot more sponsors or one of us sells a screenplay I just can’t afford it.  But you know, I do have a birthday coming up next month.  Just saying.

I also heard last night, as many of you may have, that Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer are getting married.  This is about as far as my celebrity rumor concern goes, just so you know.  I saw it on Twitter, and my first reaction was “yay, it’s about time! What a sweet couple!” because I remember when they first started dating.  Well, sort of.  I remember reading his tweets and blogs, then following her tweets just to keep up.  I’ve listened to these people’s conversations for over a year, seen their photos, read about their daily adventures…and yet, they still remain people I don’t know and have never met.  Which makes me feel a little strange, as if modern technology is making me a voyeur.  Social networking, much like other non-online forms of communication, has always made me feel a bit awkward.  Hell, I am a bit awkward, no way around that.  And yet, here I am posting a blog about how the internet makes my insides feel weird.  I am an enigma even unto myself.  I’ll chalk it up to the half of me that craves a life off the grid, solitary and reflective, with a mountain of books and a mountain of yarn.  I could totally be happy there.  But then again, there’s something about having your words recognized… 

Cast in this unlikely role, ill-equipped to act with insufficient tact

Well, as I said before, tea shopping today!  Heading over to my preferred and most-convenient purveyor, The Steeping Room, to indulge in a smorgasborg of teas and tea accessories.  It’s partly a trip of necessity, as I’m out of my Gyokuro Kin and Mick desires some Earl Grey, but who knows what treasures I’ll return with!  Be sure that you’ll be hearing about it later. 

I’ll leave you with that for now, pretties.  I’ll be back!

Well it’s another terrible day to be Tara.  If I were still a drinker, I’d be splurging at the liquor store on the way home.  I did allow myself one cigarette today, cuz dammit I think I deserve it.  But I’ve decided that this blog will not be dedicated to me bitching and being all emo and shit.  No.  Instead, I’m going to share with you the various things that a friend has shared with me in order to help cheer me up.  Peep these, friends:



grocery shopping!

And of course, one of the only things that will always make me smile: EPIC FAILS

And for good measure, he sent over a few strange comics that made me totally happy for a little while.  SPOILER: there’s a bearodactyl.

So that’s all I’m going to subject you to today.  Hopefully I’ll return tomorrow with splendid news about how everything is suddenly hunky dory and it’ll all be rainbows and unicorns and happy little trees.  Wish me luck.

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