she's so melicious

Easy to Love

2010-09-28T23:41:00.001-07:00

My friends Dan and Sky danced to this at their wedding. Aka The Most Amazingly Beautiful There Are Not Enough Adjectives for How Lovely it Was Wedding Ever. The album version is a little more upbeat. A stunning bride in cowboy boots and a short petticoated dress and the groom with exactly the look you hope to see on the face of a friend at his wedding ... I ruined my mascara.

Ivan and Alyosha - Easy to Love

I never see shows listed for anywhere other than Seattle. Boys - it's only a short (and scenic - I once saw a submarine. True story.) boat ride to Victoria. Dooooo it. We have numerous and fantastic breweries. I'm buying.

O My Heart

2010-09-07T22:12:00.001-07:00

Oy vey, another music post. Bear with me, I will actually write something again .... some day ....

Anywhoo .... Mother Mother. One day no one knew who they were, and the next they were adding dates to sold out shows. Well, it probably didn't seem like that to them, what with the toil of forming a band, writing (fricking fantastic) songs, building a following and so on. But from the outside, there was definitely a 'holy shit, where did these guys come from?' moment.

I saw Ryan Guldemond play solo a few months ago, sandwhiched between Vince Vaccaro (a pleasant yawn) and Jon and Roy (here's a bat, bludgeon me around the ears). Honestly, Jon and Roy ... at one point my friend Wendy turned to me and said 'duder, they've played the same song 21 times!'. Agony. Starbucks Pick of the Week, beach ditty flavoured agony. But Ryan Guldemond, oh my god. Without the flanking of the pretty girls and rest of band, all his Gumby strangeness was so magnificently magnified. Wendy was all 'is this dude even serious!?'. And I was all 'oh my god, I want to spoon feed him soup and watch him while he sleeps!'. He has such amazing stage presence, does things to his guitar that makes me want to have intimate encounters with his fingers, and dear god, are his vocals amazeballs. There were moments where, I swear, there was a whiff of Wayne Newton. But mostly he doesn't sound like anyone else.

Brief aside. When I was a kid I couldn't understand why Ferris Bueller was lipsyncing to a woman. Totally didn't get that Danke Schoen was sung by Wayne Newton, and that he was a dude, until probably the 12th viewing.

But Ryan Guldemond ... I can totally get down with a man that writes about not eating for days before a date so he'll look extra skinny. And, he was totally gracious when some puka shell wearing frat boy told him he was the bombdiggity. I couldn’t even keep a straight face.

Fast forward a few months, and Wend and I go to see Mother Mother. A second show that was added as the first was about to sell out. We made the call to see the club show instead of the sit down show as they're pretty frigging fun live, and not so much sitty downy. Unfortunately the show coincided with the influx of approximately 6,000 international navel personnel (the streets were running with seamen!), so the crowd was taller, drunker, sluttier and louder than usual. And that’s saying something, as Victoria has some seriously asshat chatty crowds. Oh god, and smellier! We were sucked into a whirling vortex of stale pit and old underwear for several songs. But, despite all that, it was a fantastic show. Though sort genre bending and hard to define, I’ll go out on a limb and say that Mother Mother is pop at it it’s best. Smart, distinctive, fun, catchy music that isn’t comfortably packaged to pander to the widest possible audience. Though that certainly hasn’t held back their ability to build a fan base. Not at all bad for a kid from an Island most Canadians couldn’t find on a map.

My little intro to this video turned into a bit of a ramble. I was just going to post this, and a wee note, but again, sucked into the power of Mother Mother.

This video turns the band into paper dolls and features a kid that looks like a gender confused Wednesday Adams channeling Robert Smith before he got all chubby and awkward, so I’m pretty much totally down with it.

Mother Mother - O My Heart

All Your Friends Seem Like Enemies When You're Broken Down and Empty

2010-09-06T17:18:00.000-07:00

Last long weekend of the summer and it's raining balls. Seriously starting to feel like fall. I've only ventured out to take out the trash, spent most of the day doing the domestic putter, wrapped in the vestiges of yesterday's dourness. Trying to cobble together a mix for birthday invites, but I keep getting sucked in to City and Colour. I really resisted City and Colour because, honestly, Alexisonfire ... always thought they were sort of douchy. And made me want to buy stock in throat lozenges. I have to give Dallas Green credit though. He's won this girl over.

This song is perfect today.

City and Colour - Waiting

* Are those rapist glasses?

While You Were Sleeping

2010-09-05T23:10:00.002-07:00

Urgh. Had the sort of hungover day that involves fantasies of ritual disembowelment, disturbingly adolescent melancholic self-loathing, and a driving desire to consume nothing but ginger ale. I don’t sleep well after a drink-heavy night out, so I was out of bed at 8:30, after fours hours of sleep. Only four hours because, after stumbling in famished and managing to whip up french toast I decided it was a darn tootin’ good idea to finally go on that neighbourhood-in-the-dark photo wander I’ve been meaning to do.

It was not a good idea.

For several reason. Not the least of which is that apparently the only other people awake in my neighbourhood at four am are a couple of skeezy dudes down the street. They very kindly offered ‘come on in the house, we’ll give you something to photograph’. Something about it gave me the nos though (go figure).

The photos didn’t turn out too smashingly. Shock. These were semi-salvageable. I do love dark empty streets.

I managed a semi-productive day of tattoo shop visit (oh god, tattoo noise + hangover headache = bad case of the unhappys), Scott Pilgrim, grocery shopping and pad thai cooking. All of which was soundtracked by White Stripes, Kevin Drew, Broken Social Scene and LDC Soundsystem. A concerted effort to not indulge the hangover weepies with the usual folky heartbreak fodder. It pretty much worked, except now I’m rocking a serious case of the envies for whoever Kevin Drew wrote this song for. Lucky bitch. Sadly, this is about the best video of it I could find on the internets. Hopefully BSS will play it October 12th. That would be nice. Very nice.

xo ~ m

Kevin Drew - TBTF

I'll Always Have She Bop

2010-08-26T22:40:00.002-07:00

My girl Otto and I finish an inordinate amount of conversations with 'Baby, I wish I had a penis! I love you!', because, you see, we are pretty much perfectly suited for each other in all arenas except one.

We are both, 100%, no doubt about it, committed fans of the disco stick.

Not that I haven't thought about it. Women are amazing. Beautiful. Lovely. Soft. Rarely hirsute. Don’t have awkward dangly bits. Well, except boobs. But boobs are nice! In theory the lady love is a grand plan, but when it comes right down to it, can I picture myself playing Tomb Raider? Nope. Definitely down with the dudes.

Cruel reality being that Victoria is a notoriously tough town for the single ladies. Well, those above university age at least. Once you hit the mid-to-late 20s most of the good guys have been annexed and it’s pretty much sit back and cross our fingers that some of them will become part of the 50% that end up cursing their ex’s name while rubbing self tanner in the pale flesh band where the ring once sat.

Not really ... but sort of.

All this to say that, for some inexplicable reason, I came across that ol’ time killer The Love Calculator today. Well, not so inexplicable. I Googled love to see what the number one hit was (Wikipedia, natch) and The Love Calculator was number two. Glad that the rest of the internet is stewing in their desperation juices too. Anywhoo ... It’s always worth a hope-destroying giggle, so I started calculating. Crushes. Former crushes. Dudes I thought that, with a few drinks in me, I might be able to conjure a crush on. Dude friends that I’d always thought, to quote a friend, must propagate by budding. You know, the ones you imagine as lump free as a Ken doll.

And I got bupkis.

Low end of the range 7%. High end 38%. Median in the range of 14%. Yeah, screw you too, Love Calculator.

So I threw in a couple of my best girls, just out of curiosity. And wouldn’t you know it, 72% and 79%.

I’m seriously thinking it might be time to re-watch Kissing Jessica Stein and High Art and reconsider matters.

Or maybe I shouldn’t put too much stock in an online love predictor. After all, it only gave me a 51% chance of loving myself. In fact, it says “....has a reasonable chance of working out, but on the other hand, it might not.” So as long as I don't try to work out any ambidextrous ambitions I should be just fine.

xo ~ m

ps - now that I've probably horrified my one dedicated reader (72%!) by implying masturbation, I'll easy the agony by leaving you with the 80s' and 90s' greatest odes to self lady love.

Cyndi Lauper - She Bop

The Divinyls - I Touch Myself

She's Got Superhuman Lips for Supersuction

2010-08-25T00:37:00.002-07:00

She's got superpower hips for super reproduction.

Sufjan Stevens is so reliably earnest and heartfelt that when he busts out the irreverent it pretty much kills me.

Nothing to see here, but you get my drift, yeah?

Sufjan ... October 28th at The Commodore in Vancouver ... yes? Please? And also John Wayne Gacey Jr? Thanks, you're a peach.

Anywhoo ...

I didn't really sit down to write about Sufjan Stevens. I sat down to write about sexy. Which, yes, Sufjan absolutely is. Distractingly so at times.

But not the point.

My girl Otto and I have had many pj and coffee discussion about this over the past few weeks. About, you know, what does it for us. It's ok, Mom, you can stop squirming. This isn't about sculpted abs and treasure trails. Not my steeze. I'll leave that to the girls on Bachelor Pad who, inexplicably, don't go into vajayjay lockdown at the sight of dudes with picklebutt walks in with embellished pocket jean.

Gag.

So internets, I present to you ...

A Non-exhaustive List of Things That Make My Knees Go Squidgy
(in no particular order)

Passion - and no, I don't mean in-the-pants variety. Having something that you're super juiced on, that makes you lean in and talk too fast, or just a fantastically apparent sense of joi de vivre.
Thoughtfulness - honestly, it really is the small stuff. Birthday flowers never mean as much as 'Hey, I know you're boss is being a douchbag this week, and I thought you could use something pretty' flowers. Tulips trump roses every time. Knowing this, and how I take my coffee ... oh la.
Kissing - this might be a gimme, but, back me up here, not all kissing is sexy. Sometimes it's awkward/sloppy/violating/please make it stop. A good kiss though ... and more specifically, the moment before the kiss. Take a moment before landing that bad boy. Whoooo, daddy.
Restraint - see above (also, restraints).
Toques - this might be a Canadian thing, but toques do to me what male proximity to puppies / children does to breeder type girls. Elevates the ordinary to extraordinary. Especially if paired with ...
Scruffy weekend facial hair- c'mon. I realize this is veering into LL Bean porn, but I'm from a damp coastal climate and therefor conditioned to appreciate men in their outdoorsy hotness. Probably explains why I was so obsessed with Relic on The Beachcombers.
Mornings - ok, so take that scruffy Sunday face, add boyishly rumpled hair, drawstring pj bottoms, and delivering me coffee in bed, and I'm calling in fake sick to work for the next week.
Good phone voice - well, good voice generally. A manly voice. Don Draper voice. I have one friend who has such an off-the-charts sexy voice that I tend to lose the line on what he's saying, I get so lost in it. Man voice. Yep.
Cooking - I've always maintained that cooking is like fucking (sorry Mom). Done well it's totally instinctive. Books are great for ideas, but you need to have a sense of adventure. Men who are confident and at ease in the kitchen - and turn out an excellent meal - rare, but so, so tasty.
Wine / whiskey - Yes, beer is great, but for long, winding conversations, evenings on the beach/roof/in the park I have to go wine or whiskey. A slightly heady drunk, a mildly smokey kiss. Beer just doesn't cut it.
Humor - essential. And I don't mean big funny. I mean witty. Quick. Smart funny. Bring. It.
Forearms - there is a reason my imaginary boyfriend Hank is a fine furniture maker. Hand tools = beautiful forearms > bumpy abs. Any day.
Scars - love them. They're a map of personal history, charting out events, accidents, adventures. Best discovered under the covers.
Blanket forts - really it's about a sense of playfulness, but I always think of blanket forts. If we're going to burn out and rent a movie, why not build a private fortress in the living room to watch it from?
Smelling good - and subtle. The best is when you only catch it when you're just getting into the hug. Oh man. I love something a little spicy, like Jo Malone Nutmeg and Ginger, but not going to lie, fresh laundry smell is pretty damn good too. It makes me want to hug you forever.
A fantastic walk - A bad walk can kill the quiver. And a great walk can deliver. Colin Firth once walked (no, he strode) past me, and oh my god, I don't think it's topable. I get it, Bridget Jones. I get it. Man stride. Throw on an overcoat and I'll need a moment alone.
A sense of style - There are maybe three really well dressed men in Victoria. Not a sartorial town. And I don't mean in a $$ way. Men that know how to put it together. Yes please.
A tinge of ginge - I'm not talking full out Carrot Top here. But there's a reason Hank (the aformentioned imaginary boyfriend) is a cross between Josh Homme and Britt Daniel (with a dash of Matthew Fox, just for flava).
Articualteness - Boys, use your words. And punctuation. And please, please, work on the penmanship. It really sucks having to ask for an interpreter for cards and notes.
Confidence - I could take my own advice here. It's true though. Confidence is hot. Not cocky though. A subtle confidence.
Great taste in music/movies/art/literature - Obviously this is subjective, but I'm talking someone who isn't rocking the Top 40s on the way to Avatar. Throw down some Beach House and a few Oscar Wilde quotes. Please.
Not taking yourself too seriously - I had this boyfriend who was super serious about being respected (not always all that reciprocated, though) and he had this whole theory about banishing people that he felt didn't deliver beyond the metaphoric moat, and they'd have to swim with the crocs to get back to the castle. My sisters and I call him Castle Asshole. Being able to chill out is important.

Oh gosh, this non-exhaustive list is getting exhausting. It's by no means a checklist (though it would be nice if it could be). There are just so many little things that make a man (or woman, for that matter) sexy, beyond the physically obvious.

What about you? What makes your knees weak and composure crumble?

Hey Little Girl is Your Daddy Home?

2010-08-23T23:20:00.002-07:00

I've had The Boss in my head all day. I'm on Fire specifically. Of course being the dirty little closeted hipster that I am my Bruce is only on vinyl. I wish I had a alphabetization fairy to sort my vinyl, because Born in the USA shouldn't take so damned long to find. My iPod has only (albeit fantastic)covers by Electrelane and Justin Veron - aka Bon Iver.

Tried to purge it with repeated listenings. No dice.

Quick aside - the Electrelane reference was about the only thing I really enjoyed about I Am Love. So wanted to love that movie.

Anywhooo ... Forced to resort to watching the stupendously cheesy original video. Several times.

There's a 'can get under my hood' joke in there somewhere. Ahhhh ... the working class 80's hotness of Springsteen.

Sweet plaid flannel dreams.

xo ~ m

* Sadly the webernigs was not forthcoming with Scruffy McBearderson's Drinking this Rain / I'm on Fire. Pretty danmed lovely though. Trust.

Studio M

2010-08-22T23:37:00.000-07:00

Productive weekend. The craft room (hereafter refered to as the studio, in effort to convince myself there is an artist lurking round these parts) is slowly coming together. The closet shelving is installed, wall shelves stained and installed, bulletin board - despite several setbacks - Gigyvered together. Boxes are finally being upacked and contents finding homes. I still really want to make it a /darkroom, but it's a little overwhelming of a prospect, so for now it's all about arts and crafts. Pictures, and hopefully a few project how-to's, coming soon.

~ m

Worth the Wait

2010-07-30T22:57:00.001-07:00

I've been unbloggy. Many things I'd love to share. Little motivation to do it. I'm working on it.

I came across this video today. It's so lovely. I think maybe I'm still have residual love-dust on me from the amazing wedding I went to last month. Because, being the terminally single early 30's specimen that I am, I'm not generally all gaga about lovey-doveyness. Not that I'm anti-love, not in the least. I just don't see partnership as a goal, as something that people should be auditioned for. As something that, if it's not present, means that my life is somehow lacking. It's not a void that needs to be filled, but is something that, when it happens, compliments the amazing amazingness of the people I already hold near and dear, not something that supersedes them.

I am a sucker for aesthetics. Admittedly, I wish my whole life looked like an Angus and Julia Stone video. I know most people are more Lohan than Longoria in the morning, that all couples eventually smell each others farts and not all moments together have artful lense flares, split screens and the nostalgic shudder of 8mm film. But if I could engineer it, this is what love would look like.

Max, Margaux, & The Marvelows from Shark Pig on Vimeo.

xo ~ m

PS - it's probably polite to mention that this is the wedding of Max Wanger, who's photos I have been swooning over for the past year or so. His website is in my links. This is his blog.

For a Girl Like Me, This Qualifies as Porn

2010-03-05T22:05:00.003-08:00

There's tired, and then there's tired.

I am the sort of tired that, upon venturing out of the office for a coffee this afternoon, my lovely friend behind the counter said 'oh, are you ok?' the minute I walked in. Grumpy, verge of teary, crumbling facade tired.

What can I say ... I feel pretty constantly driven to use my non-day job hours getting all the crafty awesomeness, not to mention social awesomeness, out of my system. Clearly I need to find a way to make that shit profitable, so I can skip the office job and make my monies doing all the fun stuff that, right now, cuts into my beauty sleep. Seriously, I remember going to bed really early, and actually waking up feeling sort of refreshed. It was great. It was also between Christmas and New Year's.

My plans tonight were kiboshed by a band cancellation. As much as I was looking forward to a little Team Kiwi time, I'm also sort of relieved to not have to plaster on the undereye concealer and make it a go. So here it is, 9pm, and I've already spent several hours spooning with my fat ginger bastard, rocking my unsexiest Old Navy flannel jammies, and I'm fully ready to go make sweet, sweet sleepy love to my bed.

I've been lulled into a sort of pre-coma by Jim James (technically Yim Yames, since it was the Tribute album), and thought that, since I'm such a nice girl, I'd share. Seriously, this man is my Morgan Freeman. So g'head. Have a listen.

And also, because I love Jim extra special lots for being able to rock a cape like it's nobody's business, here's My Morning Jacket doing the Black Cab Session. Clearly he didn't get the memo that I'd requested The Bear, but whatever, I still love my boo.

How sick would it be if Monsters of Folk did a Black Cab Session? Hello, seat liner.

If you don't know the Black Cab Sessions I highly recommend checking them out here. Final Fantasy, Woodpigeon, Doves, Calexico, Bon Iver, Grizzly Bear, Beach House, Death Cab (am I an asshole for thinking it would have been sort of ironically, in the Alanis sense, awesome if they'd been in an accident?), The National, Cave Singers, Sunset Rubdown, Daniel Johnston .... pretty much an inventory of my favorite bands, just killing it in the back of a taxi.

Sort of like Taxi Cab Confessions, but for music nerds.

Have a good sleep, internets.

xo ~ m

Gone, Baby, Gone

2010-03-03T23:51:00.000-08:00

One of my dearest friends is leaving tomorrow for a multi-month jaunt through South America. I am going to miss her something fierce.

What was supposed to be an after work drink at our local pub with a few friends turned into eight of us battling the hockey crowd for enough air to maintain a conversation, so, ever practical me suggested taking it the 20 paces down the street to my apartment. A sushi and liquor run later we had a nice little sit-in going in my living room. Double nice as my days here are numbered, and there won't be many more of these impromptu shindigs here.

And, might I say, there was a general air of bemusement when I walked in and hit play on the Pink Floyd and, mothero'god, a turntable started moving! Kids these days ... records are such a novelty.

Once again when everyone left I found myself staring down an unruly and eclectic pile of records. Some of them were still out from my frantic Cinderella frenzy last night trying to clean up for the viewings, but there was defs some overlap. As ever, what other people pull out to play charms and amuses me.

Aretha Franklin - Aretha's Greatest Hits
Japandroids - Post Nothing
Rolling Stones - Goats Head Soup
Otis Redding / Jimi Hendrix Experience - Monterey International Pop Festival
Lou Reed - City Lights

Pink FLoyd - Wish You Were Here
Elvis Costello - Armed Forces
Van Morrison - Moondance
Peter Gabriel - So
Michael Jackson - Thriller
Crowded House - Crowded House
Sunset Rubdown -Introducing Moonface
Beach House - Teen Dream
The Cure - The Head on the Door

Finally, Moondance gets some respect.

And I should probably include The Best of the Doors, which is dusting up the needle as I type this. Oh, Jim Morrison, Love Me Two Times, indeed. And can I get a yes please!

So, not much to say, just sort of an addendum to the podcast post. Please come over and mess around with my music. And tell your friends to rent this damned apartment, so I can stop being so anal about tidying up.

Oh, and also, Helen, keep safe. I love you and I'll miss you.

xo ~ m

Mixtape #8: The Soundtracks of Our Lives

2010-03-01T23:51:00.003-08:00

I’ve picked up a new habit. Not up the up-the-nose variety, but rather the natural progression of my music/pop-culture geekatude. I’ve been making an effort, when with friends, to keep track of the music we listen to, the films, books and art that are discussed. It saves on the hey dude, was was that song by that guy that did that thing that we listened to last night texts. This is a habit I started a few years ago when I was spending a lot of time with a highly music nerdy couple. I was forever finding old receipts and crumpled napkins with vague wine stained notes about something I absolutely had to check out.

The habit faded along with the friendship, and I’ve just recently picked it back up. I’m actually trying to keep track in my day planner. Yes, I still use a plain ‘ol book-form day planner. How quaint. It’s a nice reminder of where I was, and with whom, and what we geeked about. Plus, ticket stubs and wine labels paste in tidily.

The nice thing about having these nights in your own home is that you don’t have to take notes. You just stumble to the living room, check the recently played track list and and sift through the mountains of unsheathed records covering the floor.

Oh, quick aside. My aunt came up to my apartment the other day. The place was still a bit of a mess from the night before, so I pre-apologized and muttered something about vinyl littering the living room. She looked a little surprised and then gave me the ‘ol “TMI!”. It took a sec for it to click that she thought I meant vinyl fabric. Like some sort of gimp mask bondage fetish-wear or something. I should be so lucky. I think she was pretty relieved to see it was nothing more disturbing than Bob Dylan and Beach House.

Anyhow ... one of my favorite things is how someone else can sort of reintroduce you to your own collection. Seeing what people pull out, the songs they favour that aren’t necessarily where you tend to drop the needle. The ones you have the little ‘sigh, me too’ moments about. Oh, geekheart.

I was told (again) yesterday that I tend to listen to a lot of Old Sad Bastard music. I acknowledge and accept this. Dammit, I like an anthemic heart-heavy shoegaze as much as the next former SSRI fangirl. So there’s a bit of that going on here (possibly even a repeat or two), but it’s not all on me. This bad-boy is a collaboration strung together from the next-morning iPod list and vinyl pile that was largely established by my guest, who was also so kind as to come armed not just with wine, but with enough new music to keep me engaged in discovery for a good while. I might just have met my music geek equal. My geequal, if you will.

So, here’s Mixtape #8. The soundtrack to the best night I’ve had in a long time. Songs that were played, and ones that I have a hazy, wine fogged memory of discussing. And a few others, just because they seemed to fit. I hope you enjoy it. As ever, where possible band names link to their website/MySpace. Notes on the individual tracks follow.

To add to podcasts: if you are already subscribed hit refresh. If not, in iTunes go to Advanced, Subscribe to Podcast, and paste in this: http://shes-so-melicious.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default. You can also click on the post title to link to a downloadable file.

Mixtape #8 - The Soundtracks of Our Lives

1) In the Summertime - The Rural Alberta Advantage
2) Going To Acapulco - Jim James & Calexico
3) If I Go, I'm Goin - Gregory Alan Isakov
4) Girl from the North Country - Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash
5) My Old Ghosts - The Wooden Sky
6) Coconut - Fever Ray
7) Falling - Julee Cruise
8) You Came to Me - Beach House
9) Shut Up I Am Dreaming of Places Where Lovers Have Wings - Sunset Rubdown
10) Sweet Thing - Van Morrison
11) Let's Get It On - Marvin Gaye
12) Colorado Girl - Townes Van Zandt
13) To Ohio (Reprise) - The Low Anthem
14) After the Gold Rush (Neil Young Cover) - Thom Yorke
15) Long Time Running - Tragically Hip
16) Oh! Sweet Nuthin' - The Velvet Underground
* bonus track - It's a Surprise!

1) In the Summertime - I saw Rural Alberta Advantage with another relatively new friend a few weeks ago. We went after the opening of Big Tiny Smalls’ Nude Dudes exhibit at Dale’s Gallery, which you should check out if you are in the Victoria area. Yes, there is penis. They are, after all, nude dudes.

2) Going To Acapulco - Still my favorite scene in I’m Not There, despite the Richard Gereness. Jim James’ voice is my aural happy place, and it’s been well established that I like a good horn section. Counting down to My Morning Jacket at Sasquatch, for sure. And check out his solo work (as Yim Yames) I painfully want the limited edition George Harrison tribute vinyl. Hint hint, world. Who am I kidding, I'll be ordering that myself from the kind folks at Ditch.

3) If I Go, I'm Goin’ - One of my best new discoveries last year. And he’s a total peach - I faxed a note to a bar he was playing in San Francisco asking him to dedicate a song to some friends that were there, and he totally did. Big ups, Gregory. Big ups.

4) Girl from the North Country - Can’t go wrong with Bob Dylan or Johnny Cash. Put them together, got nothing to complain about for three minutes and forty four seconds. If you disagree, I probably can’t be your friend.

5) My Old Ghosts - We went to Wooden Sky after dinner. I wish I could say it was an amazing show, but I was (shudder, shame) a little to drunk/distracted to remember much about the specifics. They did sound good, and I had a fantastic time though, so still a total win.

6) Coconut - This one might be a repeat from a mix last year. Whatev’s, I love this song. Sad Old Bastard be damned. And Karin Dreijer-Andersson could teach Lady Gaga a thing or two about true costume/media freakadonk.

7) Falling - The Theme Song from Twin Peaks (with lyrics). Sort of an inside joke, but also actually a song a listen to a fair amount, and have since I was about thirteen. David Lynch and Angelo Badalamenti are pretty legendary pairing, and add Julee Cruise’s voice to the mix and you have me swooning in all my ninth grade glory.

8) You Came to Me - I tend to cook to Billie Holiday, but I backed it up in the Bs a little. Semi-successful - dinner was a little on the overcooked side. Sigh.

9) Shut Up I Am Dreaming of Places Where Lovers Have Wings - Technically it was Coming to At Dawn that played, but I only have a 7”, so I’m subbing this in to represent for Sunset Rubdown. Sort of long, but I sort of love it, so whatever.

10) Sweet Thing - This was the second time that a record-mining guest has declared the superiority of Astral Weeks over Moondance. I have to agree. Mine is so old you can stick your arm through the sleeve, but it still plays like a hot damn.

11) Let's Get It On - Could a song be more of a classic? Even if it always brings to mind Jack Black as Barry Jive and the Uptown Five at the end of High Fidelity.

12) Colorado Girl - In the last few weeks I’ve watched both Heartworn Highways and Be There to Love Me, and find myself shamed at how many Townes Van Zandt songs I’m only familiar with as covers. I aim to rectify this post-haste.

13) To Ohio (Reprise) - Another band I’m all gaaahahhhhh about seeing at Squantch. I like both versions of this song, but the Reprise is just so darn pretty.

14) After the Gold Rush - I went to a Neil Young tribute a few weeks ago. Newfound respect for Elvis Costello. I say goddamn. Since it was all covers I’m representing Neil here with one of my favorite covers, from Thom Yorke’s near legendary Live at Bridge School recording. If you need to sub in a falsetto, could it get any better than Thom Yorke? Without castrating a choir boy, that is.

15) Long Time Running - For no other reason than, despite being well out of my Tragically Hip phase, I still love this song. I want to dance with a whiskey-breathed stranger in a smokey, sawdust strewn roadhouse to this.

16) Oh! Sweet Nuthin' - Lou Reed also played the Neil Young tribute. Sort of a let down to be honest. He was the MOST geriatric. Like a hockey player without his stick, Old Lou looked as if he couldn’t stand independently without his guitar strapped on. Also, if anyone knows the whereabouts of my vinyl (Berlin live, I think), let a sister know. Or my black hi-tops for that matter. Shit is going missing around here.

* Bonus Track - because I had a flashback to how prevalent and pleasantly surprising bonus tracks were back when CDs were really taking off. And I burned out to the source of this a few days ago, and this song kills me. Kills me. So hard.

So there you have it. Mixtape #8. Signed. Sealed Delivered. I hope you enjoy. I’m going to spend a good hour in the shower trying to undo the shoulder knot this typing has caused. Such a martyr. I know.

~ m

Every Feeling You Feel Is ...

2010-03-01T01:13:00.005-08:00

This isn't the post I was planning to write. I've been downright negligent the past few months - partially due to a relentless shoulder issue that makes typing sort of agony, and partially due to a weighty case of the blogging blahs. Between the two blogs I have probably a dozen posts started, but haven't has the chutzpah to get 'em done. So I was actually planning to get back on the pony by riding a podcast through the gate, but my box.net account was being a little douche, so it's on the back burner for a bit.

I took the new podcast for the old headphone test this morning. I just gave my notice at my apartment, and thought I should squeeze in a few more park / waterfront ambles while it still takes zero effort to get there. It was one of those almost garishly beautiful Victoria days that sort of makes me feel bad for 90% of the country and their stereotypically Canadian weather. And since 90% of the country was glued to their TVs watching Canada go for gold, I didn't have much company, which was quite nice. After thirtysomething years it still makes me smile to see peacocks in the park. I didn't see 'Ol Whitey, the albino peacock, which actually concerned me a little. Small aside - I saw the most amazing albino Asian man in Chinatown yesterday. I mean really. How often do you see that? I was like walking into the Benetton ad I covered my Grade 9 science book with.

But I digress.

Most of the benches along the waterfront were occupied by elderly couples soaking up the sun like contented old grey-muzzled dogs. Sorta cute. There's a bench on Dallas Road that's sort of special to my Mom and sisters. It's where we scattered my stepdad's ashes a few months ago. I haven't been up that way since, so I thought I'd take five and spend a little time with him, as it wasn't currently occupied by a grey-hair. As I approached it I realized it was covered with graffiti. Mailing labels. I think Avery 5160 (that's the admin nerd in me talking). Some messily coloured blue, most semi peeled off. My first reaction was 'oh, nice, of all the benches to fuck with ...'. And then I started reading them. And I know it was probably just some bored kids feeling sort of Post Secret, but, honestly, it sort of took the wind out of me.

Here's the thing. Though I'd known my stepdad since probably my early teens he didn't come into my life in a permanent way until I was semi-adult, away at university, actually. And it was a little rocky at the start, and such things tend to be. He was a pretty lovely man, and loved my mom, so of course things sorted themselves out, but I lived in Vancouver for years, and even when I moved back to Victoria I wasn't around much, and didn't really realize how much I'd missed in not having a closer relationship with him until he was gone. I knew it as he was dying, and I was blistered by it a year later when we scattered the ashes. My Mom, stepsister and two sisters all had such personal words to say, and all I really had was 'I loved him, I know he loved me, but I didn't really know him. And that makes me so incredibly sad'.

I mean, how do you apologize to someone who's dead for not taking the time to know them better in life?

The only thing I can think is you do it by not making that mistake again. By nutting up and taking chances. By not holding people at arms length and counting on having the time to pull them closer. By not hardening yourself to all the awkward, inconvenient, maybe embarrassing thoughts and feelings that make us so achingly human. By using your voice to remind people of these things.

Mike, I hear you, loud and clear.

I am still finding my voice, but I promise you, it will be strong.

xo ~ m

Rice Boy Cooks

2010-01-04T00:12:00.001-08:00

Oh. My. Foreign boy couple crush. Jonsi and Alex (Rice Boy Sleeps and Sigur Ros) are pretty much the most adorable, creative, I-wanna-be-their-best-friend couple ever. They make my favorite music, and the loveliest art, and now offer up nutritious deliciousness. I like to think they're looking out for me, body and soul. And now having perused their free downloadable Good Heart Recipe Book I want to have them over visit them in Iceland and make diner and drink wine and listen to Jonsi's beautiful accent.

I'm not generally a huge fan of the vegan / raw thing (especially vegan things disguised as non-vegan things. Why call a nut mash vegan cream cheese? Why can't it just be mashed nuts?), but these recipes are very in line with how I cook, and the presentation is some homespun and adorable. Plus, they have a recipe called Macadamia Monster Mash, so points for calling it like it is.

You can download the recipe book here, as well as watch pretty darn tootin' cute videos such as this one.

Jónsi & Alex Recipe Show - Raw Strawberry Pie from Jónsi & Alex on Vimeo.

And if you're all 'Sigur Ros, of course, but the heck is Rice Boy Sleeps?' you can check them out here, and read my words of adoration here. I think I'm going to put them on now and let them lull me to sleep.

In Which Frye Makes Me Cry (Not Really, But It Was Close)

2009-12-23T23:10:00.002-08:00

I go through a lot of boots. I mostly wear dresses, and as I walk everywhere and therefor can't wear heels most days I pretty much live in tall boots. I wear them fairly hard too. I have a weird heel wear pattern and rarely get through a season without having to get a zipper replaced. I blame the zipper issue partially on my chubby calves, which cause a little buckling around the ankle, which is where the zip eventually fails. And it's not that I'm buying cheap boots either. I do, however, balk at spending over $300 on footwear. Which is why I've been having a quarter decade unfulfilled love affair with Frye.

Frye Veronica Slouch

Frye boots are amazing. Sadly they're also hella trendy and everywhere now. And by everywhere I mean I've seen them at Winners. Not the styles I'm particularly smitten with, but still. I've had my eye on the Veronica Slouch for years, but haven't been happy with the brown the past few seasons. They've been doing a weird distressed thing, which I can't get down with (not apparent in the photo above, but super obvious on the physical beast). Whaddup with that, Frye? But these bad boys accommodate my monster calf and don't have a zipper, so booya, boots that might see a few Septembers. I've been patiently waiting for the right brown to come about, using that time to convince myself that I'd be better off dropping a short stack of Borden's (like Benjamin's, only Canadian) on one pair of boots with workmanship that will get me through a few seasons.

And then ....

I found these.

Frye Melissa Riding Boot

That's right, a Frye boot named after me. Well, maybe not named after me, exactly, but c'mon, there's a kinship there. Sort of like how I felt about Melissa Gilbert and Melissa Sue Anderson (Laura and Mary Ingalls to you). And come to think of it, these boots would have looked quite at home in Walnut Creek.

But I digress.

I've been seeing these everywhere, it's like they're stalking me. On many of my favorite fashion blogs, (see, Jessica at What I Wore knows what's down) on a lady on Fort Street I chased down to ask about them. She said it was her first day wearing them and she'd been comfy-cosy-no-sore-feet for eight hours. These, boots ... despite the terrifyingly narrow looking shaft, well, I had to swallow my pride and try.

So I went to Footloose today after work and, dear sweet baby Jesus (BTW - happy birthday!) they were on sale. Of course the lovely little pixie behind the till was wearing them. Tease. So I tried them on, and for a moment there was hope. Then horror of horrors ... wait for it .... my calf ...

My calf had a muffin top.

That's right. They didn't go up all the way because the gargantuan latitude of my calf prevented the sweet buttery leather from sliding up the full length, forcing some very 80s scrunching in the boot and some very unflattering flesh squeeze above it.

So no early Christmas present for me. No hints dropped to Hank that he can save himself the trouble of a ring and just offer these up with the promise of eternal love and stylish foot comfort. I'll stay just as I am, hobbling along on last year's worn-heel beauties, waiting for the right brown to come about in the Veronica Slouch.

Thursday Five - Ways I Might Die or Sustain Major Injury

2009-12-17T00:01:00.001-08:00

Pardon the morbidity, but I've been giving this a lot of thought lately. Not because I have some weird death fetish thing, but because I am really accident prone and a touch of a hypochondriac. Seriously. Ever see my try to walk?

1. Trip Over Griffin and Hit my Head
When I first got Griffin (14ish years ago) a friend of mine nicknamed him Underfoot because he always is. I've tripped over, stepped on, punted and kicked the stinky little ginge (accidentally, obviously) innumerable times over the years, and he still has the nerve to act all indignant. Whatever, Griffin. I picture me bailing over the cat and hitting my head or neck like that scene in Million Dollar Baby. Craaaack. And I'm dead, or worse, paralyzed.

Plotting the next attack.

2. Choke on a Hair Pin
I have a bad habit of holding hair pins in my mouth while putting my hair up. It would be just my style to somehow inhale and choke on one.

All hail the dread bobby pin!

3. Brain Tumor
Over the past few years I've been fairly convinced I've had all of the following - lupus (hypochondriac favorite because it can explain so many random symptoms), breast cancer, lyme disease, the herp, colitis, inflammatory bowel disease ... among others. But brain tumors ... oh man, I keep coming back to that one. Random stabbing pains in the head? Brain tumor! Lumpy forhead? Brain tumor! Weird vision things? Brain tumor! Most likely I'm just really tired and have a naturally lumpy skull, but part of me is always in fear of a tumor. Anurysm's, clots, and other brain maladies freak me out too. I totally had to stop watching House, because it just fed the fear.

Tumor!

4. Random Bystander Victim of Violence
I've both witnessed a stabbing and narrowly missed being plugged by a stray bullet. So narrowly that the concrete shrapnel from the wall the bullet lodged in hit my friend in the face. True story. I've also stepped in to break up fights on the street, which is pretty stupid given that people tend to get shot, stabbed or severely beaten trying to help in such situations.

5. Under an Avalanche of Pots in My Kitchen
I love my hanging pot rack. It keeps the kitchen tidy and frees up cupboard space. However, it's right above my chopping block, and I've several times thought 'damn, this would be a terrible place to be standing during an earthquake'.

Pot Rack of Death

Do you have any weird phobias? Ways you think the Reaper might getcha?

Merry Christmas to Me?

2009-12-11T19:23:00.001-08:00

I popped the heel off a boot yesterday. Now, this is by no means a tragedy. The heels and zippers had already been replaced once, and though they still look good, they're leaky in the rain. And it rains here. A lot. I've been keeping an eye out for a stylish-yet-practical pair of boots to replace them, as I rely pretty heavily on them for my on-foot commute to work. Tis the season for great prices, and I'm in the market. So what did I come home with today?

These.

Jump's Bliss Boot. Indeed.

Ok. I may have missed the mark on practical.

But here's the deal. I saw them yesterday. I fondled them. I loved them. I did not try them on. I spent a good 30 minutes last night searching online to no avail (turns out I had the brand wrong). I went back at lunch today. They weren't on the shelf! 'Oh noes!' I though. 'Did I dream them? We're they at a different store? Was I high?' The I saw it. On the sale wall. $40 off. And only one pair in each of the colours. And both in my size. This never happens. I am an 8.5 or 9, which seems big, but is surprisingly standard. Usually last one left's are more in the range of 5.5 or 10. So see, it was meant to be. I struggled with the purple or black decision - black is so practical, but most of my shoes are black, and I thought I'd wear the purple ones more in the spring. So these entirely impractical purple boots now call my feet home, which leaves me with a small matter of replacing leaky day-to-day wear black boots to deal with.

I also picked up a new Moleskine day planner, which I will use to record lists and my one good idea, per the white person mandate.

Moleskine Large Page Per Day Planner

And because that wasn't enough giving to myself this holiday season, my A Year In Yes Calendar came in the mail this morning.

Yes!

It actually came while I was reading Yes and Yes , which was kind of funny. I know I can be a bit of a cynic and don't usually go for inspirational type stuff, but most of it is garden variety kittens n' quotes and Chicken Soup for the Soul type scmaltz, and that shit straight up makes me gag. This little gem though ... it's so pretty and thoughtful and charming with a dash of irreverence. I may have teared up a little. It also came with a little handwritten note from the lovely Sarah Von, who I think I might be developing a bit of a blogger crush on. I think you should check it out. It's a lovely gift, for yourself or a bestie, and at $18 is on par price wise with the big glossies. And you get the satisfaction of knowing that your money is going to an actual person, who put time and effort and heart into making something beautiful and putting it out into the world.

Winter Skin

2009-12-09T20:32:00.003-08:00

OK, I know this makes me a total pansy, and, having done time in Kingston and Montreal I should be tougher than this, but oh. my. god ... my skin is freaking out with this cold, dry air. How did the Ingalls ladies maintain their healthy, warm glow with all the manual labour and walking miles into town for an education in the blustery snow wearing thin lace-up boots and tights, and with only a wood stove to keep them warm at night? I'm starting to empathize! Yes, I know it's barely -1, and everyone east of Hope has it so much harder, but whatever, when you live in Xanadu you soften up.

The problem isn't my face. It's holding up rather well. I've had my seasonal blemish, and am so over it. It's everything else. Mostly my legs. I swear, the other day they were so dry and itchy I wouldn't have been surprised to see -looks around, and whispers - flaking. Ewww! They're so dry it hurts to shave. But I am an optimist, and don't believe in neglecting maintenance just because it's not summer, so maintain I will! My arms and back are also feeling the cold, and I'm sure sleeping in a 16 degree bedroom isn't helping.

I'm not a huge fan of heavy moisturizers and tend towards body oils. I've been using this Alba Kuki Nut Organic Body Oil for a while now.

It has a light but nutty, summery scent that makes me want to have someone snuggle in close, so I try to not hold it responsible for the fact that it also makes me think of Jessica Alba's sourpuss face every time I use it. It's not the product's fault any more than it's my fault that my surname was used in a KY ad. I mean really ... KY is for amateurs. But I digress. Back to the Alba oil, sadly though I'm not sure it's going to get me through the winter. It might be relegated to spring/summer status.

So, if anyone out there wants to toss the name of their favorite light-by-effective moisturizing product my way my verging on flaky legs and I would surely thank you.

She's So Delicious

2009-12-08T23:44:00.000-08:00

Just a wee note to say that I've started a sister blog to for my experiements in the kitchen. If looking at fashion makes you hungry, or you need something to munch on post bowl-smoking as you chillax to a podcast, pop on over to She's So Delicious for a little divine inspiration.

Versatile Dress, with a Side of Boob

2009-12-06T23:34:00.000-08:00

I love having boobs and curve and all that, but am a little jealous of more conservatively endowed women who can rock the no bra, super slouchy or super architectural and structured look. I've been mooning over this dress (found at Wear it Like You Mean It), but think it's more appropriate on a Kate Husdon type body.

She sells some pretty sweet and very versatile peices on here on etsy. I love the idea of having a dress that can be worn several ways (and bonus, is reversible), and think this is so much more original and contemporary than the Infinite Dress, which may or may not be the same one I remember seeing as a kid on the Home Shopping Network. Donna Karen and American Apparel have versions of it too (and half of Craftster seems to have made versions) but they're basically just a jersey tube with two long, wide straps that can be wrapped several ways. Although the Donna Karen one does at least have some volume on the skirt part, which gives me more hope for the hips than the AA version, which has a so-3-years-ago asymetical raw hem or the the Infinite Dress, which screams Real Housewives of Orange County resort wear, and would go fantastically well with a Bumpit.

What do you think? Is there hope for a dress like this working on a girl that's packing heat front and back? Or is it the domain of the lithe, lean, braless wonders?

1,591,311th Best (or Worst?) at Something. Yeah Me!

2009-12-05T23:56:00.003-08:00

It's Saturday night and I had tentative plans to go to the Mint Records Christmas Party at Logan's to see the Pack AD. Instead I decided to complete my transformation to Sad Old Bastard by donning my new seasonal (snowflake!) flannel pjs and curling up on the couch with a 14 year old bulimic ginger cat for a nap. I win at life.

Of course, the geriatric ginger had to wake me up (by yowling in my face) so he could refuel his vomit cannon, so now I'm awake and in that weird not ready to go to bed place. Thanks, cat.

So what's a girl to do? Something that requires almost no effort and will kill a good half hour?

If said girl is a bit of narcissist the answer is Google self. Obviously. So I Googled shessomelicious and was surprised and amused to find that much of what came up, even before this blog, was Twitter related. For instance, a tweet meme from a friend's summer post about an eye patch I embroidered for him. (Click images to enlarge)

And some site that posts tweets about love and seduction, although mine is really about my love for nerdy Canadian indy music.

And my personal make my mama proud favorite ... someone (Richard Henry) with too much time on their hands has created a site that tracks swearing in Twitter posts, and apparently I swear like a bad golfer.

That's right, bitches, I'm ranked 1,591,311th sweariest Twitterer in the world.

I'm being outsworn by Dooce (543,953 - swears like a Gangsta Rapper) and the ladies from The Boobs, who both swear like George Carlin, despite the wide gap in their rankings (glossyloca is ranked 34,673 desboobs is 5,710th).

I don't really know what the rankings are, but if there's something more along the lines of swears like a redneck that just found out her husband is her brother ... well, I'm going to make that my goal.

Mama Wants

2009-12-05T01:04:00.002-08:00

Meet the Tord Boontje for Habitat Garland Lampshade. I want it so bad my teeth hurt.

I want this. I want it bad. Does anyone know where I can get it in BC? Even the ones on eBay are in the UK. Booo!!!! I'm fairly sure I've seen it in a store, am thinking an art gallery? Maybe the VAG? That would be grand. Could have been the MOCA in LA. That would be less convenient.

It's sooooo pretty, and will go so nicely in my soon to be redecorated bedroom. Silver or copper would do.

Please keep your peepers peeled.

This Ain't Yo Mama's Art Class

2009-11-26T19:00:00.007-08:00

I take art classes. There. I said it. I can't draw my way across a straight line (never mind an Deadwoodesque pistol battle!), I've lost my previously honed skills for determining development time and density in the darkroom, and I just made a mess of my first mold / casting project, but whatever ... I take them anyways.

Why?

Because (despite the suckage) I love them. Not as much as I love lanky men, Macedonian feta or Movember, but I love them.

And also ... art classes are ripe for the sweet sweet comedy!

Doubters? Check these gems from a unit on pinhole photography.

'I'm going to have to check your holes.'

'You're hole is too big.'

'Hmmmm ... your hole looks a little rough.'

Seriously? You expect me to keep a straight face?

(Keep in mind, despite my early-30s-nerdy-lady-skin-suit, I'm really just a sexually frustrated 15 year old boy on the inside.)

Or these more recent panty-wetters, courtesy of sculpture class.

'You get it wet, get it hot, bend it a bit. Get it wet, get it hot, bend it a bit.'

'See how rigid I can make it.'

I am not making this up. You can check my notes. Yes, I am juvenile enough to write this stuff down, but whatever. I also take copious and accurate notes during Art:21 screenings (because PBS flippin' rocks). So suck it, haters.

However, despite my propensity for inappropriate outbursts of gigglage, during a recent video demo on mold making using a live model I was one of the few not giggling uncomfortably and making gynocological comments as two men slathered think blue goo all over woman wearing nothing more than what appeared to be:

Nia Vardalos' hair:

and Revlon Toast of New York lipstick (Helllooooo 90s!).

(Check out Cindy rocking my high school fantasy look! I had a few five finger discount Toast of NewYork lipsticks and a foot-wide [ok, 1.5 inch] barreled curling iron with which I attempted those casual waves, but that's another post.)

Not only was I not giggling, but I was actually annoyed at missing the instructional dialogue in the wake of giggles as the goo was slathered on her breasts and pubic area. I did manage to catch a sweet tip regarding excessive body hair / pubes - the model should slather on petroleum jelly or thick conditioner ... apparently out Nia lookalike went with conditioner.

Yes, I've had The Flaming Lips' She Don't Use Jelly in my head since Wednesday.

But I digress. Point being, I was adult-like and annoyed at the disruption to my learning - a fact that loans further credence to my assertion that I have a personality distorting brain tumor.

However, I thing I redeemed myself fully in this fine moment shared with a Fairway's cashier upon dashing down to purchase petroleum jelly for the class to use as a resist in our plaster molds.

Me (approaching the cashier with three tubs of Vasaline): 'Ummmm .... It's for an art class.'

Cashier (snickering): 'I wasn't going to ask.'

Me: 'That's about as awkward as buying nothing but a lone cucumber.'

Cashier: 'Oh ... or a carrot.' *

Me: 'Hmmm ... cucumber's too ambitious?'

* I just about peed the couch tonight watching Withnail and I ... Uncle Monty's tirade about the quality of root vegetables (carrots in particular) vs. flowers:

" The carrot has mystery. Flowers are essentially tarts. Prostitutes for the bees. There is, you will agree, a certain je ne sais quoi, oh so very special, about a firm young carrot."

Well said, Monty, well said.

Mixtape #7 - Post 33rd Birthday Burnout Mix

2009-10-10T11:13:00.007-07:00

True to the title of this mix, I burned out on posting it. Rest assured, it provided a fantastic aural backdrop to the Sunday morning post-birthday burnout and breakfast with the five go-hards that were scattered across various furniture and floor locales in the morning. I myself awoke in a sleeping bag on the bathroom floor ... but it was a preventive measure only. So far my 30s are pretty barf free (from drinking, anyways). I'm such a grown-up.

I have to give a big thank you shout-out to everyone that made my 33rd so fantastic. Friends I've known for up to 16 years ( I love you Jay!) and friendships that are barely months in the making. A few I've just recently reconnected with and am so happy to have back in my life. You all made it so very special and I absolutely adore you all.

Hopefully this little mix will come in handy for your turkey comas.

Tracklist (no cover on account of still burning out).

1. Death By Ninja (A Love Song) - Woodpigeon
2. Auburn and Ivory - Beach House
3. Some Say (I Got Devil) - Bonnie "Prince" Billy/Tortoise
4. Silent Signs - DeYarmond Edison
5. Colors - Amos Lee
6. Stay Free - Black Mountain
7. Mango Tree - Angus & Julia Stone
8. Daydreamer - Adele
9. At Sea - Electrelane
10. That Sea, The Gambler - Gregory Alan Isakov
11. Rocket Man - My Morning Jacket
12. Who's Lauging? - Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson
13. One Wing - Wilco
14. Low Man - Alberta Cross
15. Jolene - Ray LaMontagne
16. Wake up Time - Tom Petty
17. Metropol 47 - Mark Kozelek
18. Everybody But Me - Lykke Li
19. All Tomorrow's Parties - The Velvet Underground

To add to podcasts: if you are already subscribed hit refresh. If not, in iTunes go to Advanced, Subscribe to Podcast, and paste in this:http://shes-so-melicious.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default. You can also click on the post title to link to a downloadable file.

Have a fantastic long weekend.

xo ~ m

Mixtape #6 - Happy Frick Frackin' 33rd (Peppy)

2009-10-01T22:40:00.010-07:00

It was my birthday yesterday. Mostly it was a normal day - worked, went to class, drank beer - except I got to squeeze in a lovely dinner with my lovely mother, and my lunchtime tea came with a side of whiskey. My Facebook saw more action than usual ... sadly my junk did not.

The birthdonk throwdown is Saturday, and I had fully intended to get CD invites out a month ago. Clearly that didn't happen and the best I managed was a crappy PDF'd email invite. What? I've been busy! 

So instead the Frick Frackin' 33rd Birthday Soundtrack is coming to you in the form of two podcasts. That's right, I said two. A peppy mix for throwing back drinks and gettin' yer hair did pre-party, and a mellowish post-party sunday morning burnout mix for the day after. Hopefully I'll get that one posted tomorrow. 

So, for now, a little juice to get your padunk shimmying.

(Image links to a downloadable cover)

1. Two Weeks - Grizzly Bear (you jerks in Vancouver can see them Oct. 14th at the Vogue.)

2. When U Love Somebody - Fruit Bats 

3. After the Curtain - Beirut 

4. To the Lighthouse - Patrick Wolf 

5. Tone Bank Jungle - Holy Fuck 

6. We Share Our Mothers' Health  - The Knife

7. Michael - Franz Ferdinand 

8. Rise & Fall - The Racoons 

9. Thy Will Be Done - Handsome Furs 

10. Believe in Yourself - Disasteradio 

11. Raise Me Up - Hercules and Love Affair 

12. Move With Your Lover - Ghostland Observatory 

13. Feelgood By Numbers - The Go! Team 

14. Atoms Tomb  - Electrelane  

15. You! Me! Dancing! - Los Campesinos! 

16. She's Lost Control - Joy Division 

17. Come In Alone - My Bloody Valentine 

18. Graveyard Girl - M83 

19. I Quit Girls - Japandroids 

Help-Portrait

2009-09-21T22:36:00.002-07:00

This is going to be sort of a quickie because I've been doing work for this little project pretty much since I got home from work, but I want to get something up because I think it's sort of silly that I haven't posted about this yet.

I am, in collaboration with Quinton Gordon and Diana Millar at Luz Gallery (the brand spankin' new contemporary photography gallery at 977A Fort Steet), coordinating the local effort for the global Help-Portrait project. There are, as of today 179 groups registered globally ... plus a load that haven't made the transition from Facebook to the official community page.

This project, started Jeremy Cowart, is a movement among photographers doing portraits of people that aren't able to afford traditional avenues of portraiture. This could be single mothers, orphans, the lonely, the sick, your neighbor, the homeless. It is photography for the sake of giving pictures, not taking them.

I won't do Jeremy's vision justice, so please watch this introductory video.

There has been strong interest in Victoria among photographers, but we need a small army. Not just photographers but creative, compassionate people of all types, willing to give their time to give something back. So, if you are interested in participating, or know someone who might be (makeup artists, hairstylists, children's entertainers, drivers, caterers, people who can provide locations/studio space ...) please let me know.

Also, and very importantly, if you can think of any individuals or organizations that might be interested in receiving portraits I'm looking to form a list of potential partners / participants.

I can be contacted at helpportraitvictoria@shaw.ca . We also have a group page on the Help-Portrait Community Page (that would be a link).

Countdown to My Bornday

2009-09-03T23:02:00.006-07:00

As previously mentioned, I have sort of a love / hate relationship with September. Seasonally, it's my favorite. The fall wardrobe staples (hello, knee-high boot collection!) are reintroduced, but it's not so cold and wet as to fuck up my hair royally. School supply shopping is invigorating and never makes me feel fat ... and given that this year I'm taking sculpture should be extra exciting, though really, a fresh pack of pens and looseleaf is still pretty much porn for me.

On the less awesome side, with my bornday on the last day of the month it's also sort of a countdown to the Crushing. Realization. That. I'm. Still. Just. Me.

Whatev's. Regardless of my intensely narcissistic self loathing I still fucking love my birthday. This may be noted by the fact that every year I throw myself a shindig. Now, granted, a disproportinate number of my BFFs have birthday's around mine, so these are often shared events, but that just makes them all the sweeter. Right Dan/Michelle/Olga/Helen/Chelsea/Wendy?

Anywhoo ... as some of you know, this year for my birthday I get a colonoscopy. Yippee! On the downside ... gross. On the upside ... maybe I'll finally get some idea of why I feel so like ass (literally and figuratively) most of the time. My birthday is on a Wednesday (and, of course I'll be in class until 9:30 pm) and then I get to take the next two days off to suffer the indignity of getting-a-camera-hammered-up-my-butt prep. Happy fucking 33rd!

Needless to say, the birthdonk is going to have to hold off until Saturday the 3rd. That is, if I'm not one of the lucky few that get the extra joy of a perforated colon/emergency surgery/phlebitis (don't ask). So, let this serve as a reminder to keep the Saturday after my birthday /colon-camera-hell free. I'm trying to work out a fundraiser (no, not for me, for the Lukemia and Lymphomia Society, in memory of my lovely stepfather) birthdonk party, but the wheels are slow on the movement, so it may be a house-party. Either way, keep it free.

Now, not that I'm expecting anything, ever, in the way of giftage, but since people have been asking (Hi Dad!) here are a few ideas:

Bike - Mine was stolen. It was also free, so fair game. Something oldish and awesomeish (craigslist-ish) - fixed gears need not apply. Step-through, at least 5 speed. Something like this.

Or this:

Clearly used and old is fine - and yes, I have cleared apartment storage to avoid another theft situation, lease restrictions be damned!

New Keyboard - Someone spilled wine allthefuckover my confuser and keyboard at a party last year. I am now suffering the indignity of a tangerine iMac G3 keyboard with no forward delete key. This will not do. What mama needs is this.

Mounting an articulating keyboard tray on my redonk high desk would buy bonus points, relieving my chronic scolioid agony and saving me from sitting on a stack of pillows that would make that Ol' Princess and the Pea bitch feel like a pussy.

National Geographic Binocular Camera - (not to be confused with the plain ol' binoculars). Granted, these are impossible to find even on eBay, so it's more of an if-you-ever-stumble-across-one-at-a-garage-sale-slash-second-hand-store situation. It's a kid's toy. I covet it. So what?

Bedsheets - White. Queen. Extra deep pockets. Embarrassingly high thread count. If you are lucky I'll let you help me break them in. (Note: This offer does not extend to immediate family.)

Mixtapes - Please. If you need direction here ... well ... you might be beyond my help.

I know I've been on the Narcisco train lately, but Chanel Mademoiselle always makes a great gift in a pinch-hit situation. As does a tasty Pinot. As does a well-intended and sincerely delivered hug.

xo ~ m

For the First Time in My Life, I Think I'd Rather Take the C+

2009-08-26T23:38:00.002-07:00

I had a lovely night. An unexpected impromptu dinner with a really lovely new friend, and one of his oldest friends. We're talking early childhood. Such a dynamic could have been awkward (third wheel, anyone?) but I've been feeling the void in male friendships lately, and it was really quite nice to spend time with two men who have such a strongly rooted friendship. And as those of you that know me know, I'm not someone that could be described as verbally reticent. But for several hours I really quite happy to mostly shut up and listen.

Now, this new friend, I'll admit to being at times a little in awe of him. He's beautiful, kind, involved in all the creative things that I am generally intimidated by, seemingly fearless - or maybe more accurately unaffected by my good friend self-doubt ...every time we hang out I find out an intriguing little nugget that makes me want to know more. About who his is, what he's done/doing - which is seemingly everything. I mean really, how many people do you know that can whip out a straightjacket and demo their escape maneuvers?

Anyhow, the straightjacket lead to a conversation about learning to do new things, and he asserted that 80% of people, with enough practice over about two years, have the aptitude to become adequate at almost anything - we're talking C+ level (the only rating system my overly academically geared mind understands). He said this like it was a good thing. A reason-to-try-new-things-type-thing. And my first reaction to that was 'eh ... two years for a C+? Why would I invest all that time and energy into something just to be mediocre at it?'

Which is of course the balls-est reaction possible.

And which I immediately had the common sense to be utterly horrified by.

I don't think it's exactly a national secret that my mid-life crisis started somewhere pre quarter-life. I've never felt like I've developed into the person I should be, or want to be. That person does not have a desk job. She spends her days making things and connecting with people. She is impulsive with her heart, not her wallet. She is more politically minded and civically active. She is less cynical and judgmental. She isn't dissuaded from taking classes or shaking her ass on a dance floor or picking up a guitar or mike because she might not be good at it (duh, that's what we call learning). She indulges and develops her creative proclivities. She looks different. She thinks different. She is, to quote Fight Club, free in all the ways I am not.

She is my Tyler Durden. Without the whole pissing in the soup thing.

Now, I'll concede that I've made a few small strides in some of these areas. I quit taking classes where I write about art with the assurance that I'll get an A+ (and then bitch about the 10% I lost, regardless of the fact that it wouldn't change the grade) in favor of taking art classes where I actually learn about and get my hands dirty with art ... and utterly suck at. I'm not being self-deprecating, I really do suck. I also really enjoy it. Mostly. I did six months of nasty ass, back agony inducing bootcamp, which I can't say I ever enjoyed, but I got through. Now, some of that has been undone by my good frenemy whiskey and his band of accomplices (French Fry, I'm calling you out!) but whatever, I did it despite the paralyzing knowledge that I indeed looked like the fatty at the gym. I'm warming up to the idea of the learning process being something to be enjoyed, not rushed through to meet the goal of Being. Awesome. At. Something.

But still, I feel like The Nothing is hovering behind me, ever urgently reminding me to move forward, move faster. And I feel like my feet are stuck in the quicksand. Like some stupid little synapse in my head keeps firing a message that I can't quit my job and start into something I'll actually, gulp, enjoy because I:

have dick all savings despite making decent money; and
despite being good at a lot of things I enjoy, I am not pay-the-bills good at anything.

Now a different person might look at these two things and say "ok, Sugartits, what we need here is a plan. You're going to have to make some compromises, and that's going to hurt, but a lot of people get through life without dozens of shoes and a bulldozer load of MAC. They don't exactly turn you into Zooey Deschanel anyways. Make yourself a schedule, chart out some goals, brush up on whatever your most marketable skill that you actually enjoy is *, and let's get to work on making that happen. And while you're at it, practice the damn guitar more, get your ass to karaoke, take the damn dance class, book a frigging tattoo appointment already and and generally get over your insufferably self-indulgent self-deprecation. It's almost come full circle to a point of a whole new depressing brand of narcissism."

Now, before you get your panties all tied in a knot because you love me and think I'm just swell (hi Mom!) be assured this isn't a woe-is-me-need-for-assurance thing. I know that in a lot of ways I'm a pretty excellent person. I'm smart, kind, warm, witty, considerate, generous, thoughtful, admirably skilled in many domestic pursuits and more creative than at least your average tree stump. On a really good hair day during a week that I haven't been worshiping at the alter of beer, burgers and sedentariness I'll allow for not hard to look at. These are all good things. Things I'd like the superior C+ version of me to also embody.

I guess the question is - would I rather be a comfortable and unchallenged A or A+ version (though I'd say I'm hovering around a B+) of the person I've defaulted to, or a C+ version of the person I want to be? Even knowing that it could take years to achieve it, if indeed it's even something with an end goal? I mean really, a person worth being is one that continues to be challenged, learn and change, right?

September is traditionally the toughest month for me. With my birthday on the last day of the month it usually marks 30 days of Oh shit. Another year gone, and I'm still the same me. Which is just as depressing and unproductive as it sounds. So I think this year, in partnership with (as of the 7th) Sober September, I am going to break with tradition and spend that time and mental energy launching the C+ version of me.

Because there's just no sense of accomplishment in striving for an A+ in the status quo.

* note, not troubleshooting things like CAP LOCK ON, cleaning up after other people, or bloody copyediting.

Mix Tape #5 - Songs for Stargazing

2009-08-22T02:12:00.005-07:00

Here's a little hint for you, internets.

When you are seeing someone, even ever-so-casually, and they go really far out of their way (because they are awesome and also know that no one is really doing anything for your born day) to give you and awesome birthday with dinner, and wine/gifts/homemade cake and kite flying at the beach followed by hanging out at Esquimalt Lagoon stargazing and listening to your crafted-for-birthday-stargazing-mix-cd, do not, under any circumstances reward said awesomeness by telling them

about

the

threesome

you

could

have

had

a few days before but decided against because, well, those things are never as good an idea as they seem, and one of the girls seem a little nuts, and ended up drunk and crying anyways.

I mean really, it's just rude.

This mix starts with a birthday song and is on the relatively mellow side, so consider this a freebie from your mixtape pinch-hitter when you find yourself without a suitable soundtrack for that special someone's special day. Hope your plans play out better than mine. There's no cover because, well, my computer ballsed out awhile ago and ate it, and I can't be bothered to make another one. Besides, at least the crappy cover art should be personalized, non?

Track List:

1) Happy Birthday - Sufjan Stevens

2) I Miss You Like I Miss You - Chad VanGaalen

3) Words - Gregory Alan Isakov

4) Why Do They Leave? - Ryan Adams

5) Bella - Angus & Julia Stone

6) Seen It All Before - Amos Lee

7) Soft Shock (acoustic) - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

8) 20 Good Years - The Racoons

9) The Loneliness Of A Tower Crane Driver - Elbow

10) I Go To The Barn Because I Like - Band Of Horses

11) Who Will? - Patrick Wolf

12) If You Want Me - Glen Hansard & Markéta Irglová

13) Just a Spark - Songs: Ohia

14) Trouble - Ray LaMontagne

15) I Put a Spell on You - Nina Simone

16) Dream Job - The Dears

17) Consequence - Notwist

18) It's Summertime - The Flaming Lips

19) Lover's Spit - Broken Social Scene

Notes on the Tracks

1) Happy Birthday - It strikes me as a little ironic, given the circumstances, that words 'your birthday brings a pardoning' are part of the lyrics. Sigh. Sufjan and Cryptacize are embarking on an East-of-Lake-Minnentonka tour in the fall. Sadly this means no western dates, but you bastards in the east can see them October 1st in Toronto at Lee's Place October 2nd in Montreal, at Cabaret du Musee Juste Pour Rire.

2) I Miss You Like I Miss You - I spat beer an an girl for being a douchbag at the last Chad VanGaalen show. True story. I will not be repeating that rather graceless act October 14th at Alix Goolden in Victoria or October 15 at The Rio in Vancouver. Mostly because I won't be there.

3) Words - I have Dan to thank for this introduction. So thanks cracka'. He's touring with Ani DiFranco in September, only Canadian date so far looks to be The Peg Sept 19th, and he's not listed as opening the Victoria date, which fills me with sadness.

4) Why Do They Leave? - Despite his media douchebaggery I still sort of love Ryan Adams. He crafts a lovely song. 'Nuff said.

5) Bella - Awww, man.... I've said it before ... I sort of want to live in a Amos and Julia Stone video. This is what I imagine all the couples that post lovely morning-in-bed, dusty, lens flarey photos at Le Love Image are listening to as they coo soft words of adoration to each other.

6) Seen It All Before - I never get tired of this album, though I've never really cottoned on to any other Amos Lee. I love how pure and effortless his voice is though.

7) Soft Shock (acoustic) - I will probably end up using every one of the acoustic tracks on this album. I could not crush harder on Karen O. It's just not possible.

8) 20 Good Years - I'm so all over The Racoons. You should be too, and there is plenty of opportunity. They're part of a free outdoor show August 25th on Broad Street between Pandora and Johnston and are playing Sept 24 during Rifflandia. Also, they're looking for people for a video shoot on Sept. 5th.

9) The Loneliness Of A Tower Crane Driver - Yep. Still love Elbow. Don't see that changing.

10) I Go To The Barn Because I Like - What, Ben, what’s in the barn that you like? Horses? Just a guess. I'll be solving that mystery September 5th at The Royal followed by Japandroids at Lucky. Ladies night, holla!

11) Who Will? - Patrick Wolf is lanky and beautiful and I think I got some of his sweat on me at the last show. Which is right up there with being showered by unicorn tears.

12) If You Want Me - If you haven't seen Once do yourself a favour and rent it. If my Mom ever returns it I might lend it to you. And keep an eye out for Swell Season to announce some US dates in support of Strict Joy. Which I must remember to buy.

13) Just a Spark - I had a lovely chat with Mr. Molina after the Seattle show a few weeks ago and he said that he didn't

come to Canada this time because he 'wasn't invited'. Atomique, Sealed with a Kiss, what's up with that? He also referred to Nova Scotia as 'the Scotia' which was sort of adorable. Amazing songwriter, now with better hair.

14) Trouble - Mr. LaMontagne will be gracing US audiences with November dates, but there are none announced for Canada yet. Boo.

15) I Put a Spell on You - There are many versions of this song that I dig (yes, that includes Marilyn Manson's), but you just can't beat Nina.

16) Dream Job - The Dears have sort of been off my Radar for a few years. After a show a few months ago they are back on it. Oh, and Murray claims he didn't get seated at a restaurant other band members were eating at because he's black. In Victoria. I shudder to think. Some sushi place, I have no idea which one.

17) Consequence - This song came to me via my bestest blond bud when I was toiling under the fist of my sociopathic cousin in Montreal. It got me through some rough days. It still does and I still love it. Ditto that hot little blond.

18) It's Summertime - Ok, we all know that The Flaming Lips are fucking awesome. But did you know that they host their hometown's Hallowe'en Parade? Finally, a reason to go to Oklahoma City.

19) Lover's Spit - Another love 'em or hate 'em band. Love. Clearly.

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All they Wanted Was a Dance, You Gave Your Peace of Mind Instead

2009-08-17T20:52:00.006-07:00

I've been absent again. It's been a busy few weeks. I have another podcast ripened and ready to post, I just haven't had the steam to do the written. So, in the meantime, a word about a little gem that would be on the mix if I could have bought the damn track digitally.

A few months back Sunset Rubdown played in Victoria. Now, I love me some Sunset Rubdown, but I recognize that Spencer Krug's voice is sort of divisive. People tend to either love or just totally can't stand it. I fall squarely on the love side. I also sort of crush on him as a lyricist. I hadn't heard much of Dragonslayer before the show, but the new songs I heard did it for me, and I took it home eager to dig in and give it a proper solo listen. In particularly a song that had sort of grabbed me in an I've never heard it before, how is it so familiar?? sort of way. Crushing disappointment upon discovering that the song I had briefly bonded with was not on the album.

I Googled the one little lyric snippet I'd retained:

obliterate your speech so you cannot ask forgiveness

for hanging with the vampires when there was no one to witness

the submission of the skin upon your neck

and found that the song, Coming to At Dawn, was only available on a picture-disk, which I'm pretty sure I'd seen for sale at the show.

Balls.

I hemmed and hawed about ordering it from Agoo Records ... $10 is low beans, but with shipping and whatnot ... anywhoo, I finally, now months later, checked in with the good folks at Ditch Records and sure enough, they had it in stock, cheaper than what I would have spent to order it with shipping and Yankee dollar conversion.

As a quick aside, I'm a huge proponent of support local independent retailers, records stores in particular, and with A&B gone I'm spending more time and dollars at Ditch, which I should have been doing all the time, because the staff is amazing and helpful and generally float my boat. Shop local. Shop Ditch!

Right. So. It's a lot simpler and more piano-y than it was live, which I'm actually partial to as it serves the lyrics well. I love the image and feeling that this little bit conjures up.

obliterate the memory of coming to at dawn

knowing only that the night has gone

obliterate the grass stains from the cloth

you were only in the grassy fields to pick a hollyhock

you want to stick it to the stem again

by fusing up the atoms and then believe that it will live again

just from the power of your refusing to believe it cannot happen

We've all had that night right? Sort of drunk and brokenly determined your want alone can will something into being? Hell, I had a bit of that on Saturday night. Unfortunately, people are even harder to rebuild than flora. But I digress.

So, I'm embedding a video that's basically just the record playing, but hey, it's a picture disk, so at least there's something to look at!

I'm also popping in a video of the song performed live, because it is so different. I still dig it, I just diggity dig the album version better. You know, for angsty solo listening.

Crap. That's actually a different live version than the one I was intending to post, and now it's a draw. I sorta love it too. May need a few more listens.

So that's the what for now. I have a sewing project to bang out tonight and am hitting Fruit Bats tomorrow at Lucky, so at this rate it might be the weekend before I get the podcast up.

~ m

Rice Boy Sleeps

2009-07-21T00:09:00.004-07:00

If you have seen my cd wall you know I love Sigur Ros. If you know me, you know that when I love something (or, let's be honest, on occasion, someone) I can get a bit obsess-y. In the case of people it can get weird, and I try to not indulge it. In the case of music it means I can explore and be moved, and share that with other people, who hopefully also will be moved and share it forward.

There's been a note next to July 20th in my day planner (yes, I still use a book style planner. And a pen.) since February or March. It says, quite simply, Rice Boy Sleeps. To someone not sort of obsessed with all the musical magic coming out of Iceland that might sound like crazy talk, or spy code. It is neither. It is the release date of the an album by Jón Þór Birgisson and Alex Somers - aka Jonsi from Sigur Ros and his partner Alex.

To me that little entry means that an album drops that I am absolutely certain I will love.

And I am right.

I love it.

I love the the lushness of it. I love that it is so full and warm and sweeping and yet feels somehow quiet.

I love that, though I am just giving it it's first listen, it feels familiar, though not because it sounds like Sigur Ros. Because it is different. More intimate somehow. Like sharing someone's daydream.

I love that it sounds the way their art looks - which by the way I adore, and which makes me ache to be able to express myself with ink and paper.

I love that they've allowed an embed option for the music player, so I can share it with you here. Though, of course, I encourage you to visit the website and look at what they have to offer (including a little surprise for all you odd little raw foodists out there!), and of course to buy the album. It is available on Amazon, though I'll be chatting up the boys at Ditch, and hope you'll take your Benjamin's to you local record shop too.

The videos for All the Big Trees and Daniell in the Sea have been out for some time, so I've heard a few of the tracks before. They are so simple and lovely.

Jónsi & Alex - All the big trees from Jónsi & Alex on Vimeo.

Jónsi & Alex - Daníell in the sea from Jónsi & Alex on Vimeo.

It is way past the time that a more reasonable me would have packed it in and gone to bed, and I am still pretty exhausted from the excesses of sun and mountain air and, well, beer this past weekend. I am very much looking forward to crawling into my bed and letting Rice Boy Sleeps lull me into dreamy repose.

~ m

I Think the Universe is Trying to Tell Me Something

2009-07-12T21:37:00.003-07:00

Read this morning while pouring almond milk in my coffee at shop up the street.

LIBRA

You don't lack for ideas. Your head is bursting with them. But do you have what it takes to turn those ideas into realities, and make money from them in the process? The Sun in Cancer says you do, so get your act together over the next few days.

Thanks, Universe, note taken. You'll be happy to know that I've been connecting with some pretty amazing, positive, doer type people that are really inspiring me to get my shit together and start producing some awesome.

This is What I Want my Life to Look Like

2009-07-07T21:16:00.002-07:00

I really, really need to wrangle some secure bike storage so I can spend the rest of the summer cruising around on a classic beater in little belted dresses.

Must also work on cultivating a more indie band/French girl /Meg White look. Clearly I need to throw off the office shackles.

Anywhooo... watching this video make me think 'yep, that's how I want my life to look'.

xo ~ m

You Said You Only Wanted Friends For Long Enough to Get Rid of Them

2009-07-06T18:10:00.018-07:00

You know how sometimes a song that's been on your playlist for ages can suddenly seem new? Like something in your life tweaks how you hear it and it suddenly seems fresh and relevant? I'm having that big time right now with one of my favorite songs by one of my absolute favorite songwriters.

Jason Molina and I go way back. Well, for me we do. For him .... most certainly not. But whatever. His lyrics are often little portals into relationship failings, wishes and regrets. They aren't flashy, but are brutally honest, and I think that's what makes them so relatable.

And holy mothergod, if he isn't just damned fantastic live. Which is why I have a Seattle weekend planned around his summer tour. But I digress.

Anywhoo, Dark Don’t Hide It from Magnolia Electric Co's. What Comes After the Blues is that song right now. I've been listening to it for years and that album is pretty big for me (it ushered in the sea change of a friendship and was bought at a show that was my first hangout ever with a guy I've been crushing on since ... and it came out in 2005). So, I've been listening to this song for years, but, despite frequent singalongs I don't think I've ever really heard the lyrics. And then this weekend, while lying in bed up on Cortes making a playlist for the bus ride home I caught this little gem ...

You said you only wanted friends

For long enough to get rid of them

You found the kind you knew would only kill you

So you surrounded yourself with them

... and it was like being punched in the gut with a truth bomb.

Now, don't be getting all concerned, it's not a chronic or all-friend encompassing thing (A-duh! I have the most amazing, beautiful, supportive friends!). It just sort of tidily summed up a a little looking to make some mistakes phase I'm going through. And, specifically, someone I've wasted a little too much time breaking that phase in with.

But whatever, this isn't really about me, that's not the point. The point is that the man drives it home. Every. Single. Time.

Need a little more?

Now the world was empty on the day when they made it

But heaven needed someplace to throw all the shit

Human hearts and pain should never be separate

They wouldn’t tear themselves apart both trying to fit

Now death is gonna hold us up in the mirror

And say we’re so much alike we must be brothers

See I had a job to do but people like you

Been doing it for me to one another

I mean, honestly. Hey mankind, you just got schooled by Death.

Chills.

Anywhoo, you can discover all the Molina you want at http://www.magnoliaelectricco.com (which covers Songs:Ohia, Magnolia Electric Co. and solo projects), and on myspace. Dark Don't Hide It is on there, though I also suggest you check out the following video for a beautifully spare solo version. The sound and video aren't synced, so I'd listen not look.

And keeping with the stripped down solo thing, this version of Just Be

Simple, pretty much my favorite Jason Molina song ever,gives me little

chill. Not as much of a chill as the album version but still, a chill.

With slice to the bone honesty like this ...

Eveything you ever hated me for .... honey there was so much more,

I just didn't get busted.

...how could it not?

x0 ~ m

Gone Fishin'

2009-07-02T22:22:00.005-07:00

I'm off to Cortes to spend some quality parent / friend time with my Dad, so you won't be getting any interneting from me for a few days. I'll be busy eating wild deer, slaughtering trout, frolicking with my little brother (my Dad's preferred child because he doesn't bitch about the food and never asks for money) ....

... and basically chilling all the heck kinds of out.

Hope your weekend is equally relaxing. Listen to Angus and Julia Stone, eat coleslaw, read in a cemetery, tell someone you love them, and hopefully mean it.

xo ~ m

Park That Car, Drop that Phone, Sleep on the Floor, Dream About Me

2009-06-30T23:10:00.003-07:00

This song wasn't around yet when I was 17. I really, really wish it had been. Because me at 17 was a solid mix of the hope and hurt and wish and despair and dreaming that this song embodies, and I really could have used a song that summed up everything I didn't have one recognizable, assignable emotion for.

At 17 I was pretty sure there was some sort of solid line delineating the youth from the adults, and that, though I didn't know quite where it was, or when I'd find it, I'd know with certainty when I crossed it.

I'm 32, coming up on 33 really, and I have to say, most days I'm still not sure I'm there. Sure, I have a job, I pay rent, most of the time I remember to deal with bills and garbage and laundry. But I am still every bit as filled with wonder and want and ache for something more that I was almost half my life ago. And while sometimes I fear it an unsettling harbinger of failure at this being a grown up thing, or at fulfilling my potential, whatever that may mean or be, it also gives me a profound sense of peace and calm.

Because I don't ever want my heart to stop hunting.

Note: I'm not in love with the video, but all the live footage was crusty.

Count Your Blessings

2009-06-29T22:10:00.007-07:00

1) This is as close to a backyard as I have.

2) This is how I get there.

3) This is my reading nook.

4) This is how I feel when I've been there a while.

Mix Tape #4 - Lessons We Haven't Learned Yet

2009-06-28T12:10:00.019-07:00

This mix has been ready to go for a while and should have been posted at the beginning of June, but, what can I say, I've been a busy girl.

It was born out of an On-The-Go playlist created on a Victoria Day road trip with a new, ahem, friend, but some songs were subbed in to replace tracks that have appeared in previous podcasts. It's peppier (read: less of a suicide soundtrack) that usual, but whatthefuck, it's summer. A girl can have fleeting moments of peppiness, without having to turn in her Cure card, can't she? There is a little Bob Dylan and Beth Orton to take it down a notch though. And speaking of Ms. Orton, yes, the title comes from Sweetest Decline. It's a song I go back to a lot, and that little lyric, (despite it's whiff of Oprah / Maya Angelou-ness), resonates a little too familiarly/often with me. I'd like to think that at 32 I'd have my head around the bad habits, behaviours and relationships that I should know better than to indulge in, but sometimes there is comfort in the familiarity of knowing how something is going to turn out, even if it is destined to not turn out well. It might not be good, but at least I know where it's heading.

Silly, I know, but while I'm pretty sure I'm heading into another of these future regrets, at least it's with a head shake, a grin, a self directed 'oh sweetie .... why are you getting yourself into this again? ' and a dose of curiosity about whether I know myself well enough to be right about the outcome.

1. June Evenings - Air France

2. Paper Planes - MIA

3. Before And Again - Akron/Family

4. Sweetest Decline - Beth Orton

5. Hysteric - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

6. Tunnelvision - Here We Go Magic

7. Furr - Blitzen Trapper

8. I Was A Landscape In Your Dream - Of Montreal

9. Kids - MGMT

10. The Wonder - Figurines

11. Modern Saints - The Von Bondies

12. Sex On Fire - Kings Of Leon

13. Marching Bands Of Manhattan - Death Cab for Cutie

14. Most Of The Time - Bob Dylan

15. There Is No Such Thing As Love - The Dears

16, Wish I Was Dead - Shout Out Louds

17. Bruises - Chairlift

18. All We Want, Baby, Is Everything - Handsome Furs

Cover image is being a douchbag and not linking to a downloadable, print-size ready file. However, you can get it here. The Photo was liberated here.

To add to podcasts: if you are already subscribed hit refresh. If not, in iTunes go to Advanced, Subscribe to Podcast, and paste in this: http://shes-so-melicious.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default. You can also click on the post title to link to a downloadable file.

I Wanna Be A Sedaris

2009-06-28T11:53:00.003-07:00

It is no secret that two of my greatest pleasures are reading David Sedaris and watching Amy Sedaris. Though listening to David Sedaris read David Sedaris beats trying to read David Sedaris in David Sedaris' voice to myself. It's hard to replicate in my own head, and damn, if his voice isn't the wire edged ribbon adorning a gift wrapped box filled with kitten.

Amy though, Amy ... two words. Girl. Crush. I actually came to Strangers With Candy late, introduced to Amy and her fat suit through one of David's stories, and it's been a mental lesbo love affair ever since. She is a girly girl with a penchant for shoes and vintage dresses, has an impressively filthy mind and shares my passion for all things domestic. She is also BFFs with Todd Oldham, which pretty much makes me want to go all Single White Female on her. I bet her fake boyfriend Ricky was a looker too, though he's A) fake and B) supposedly been murdered, so it's a selling point I can't prove.

Anywhooo... this is probably my favorite Amy Sedaris moment ever. They should show this to high school girls. Because vaginal cleansing is very important. And sometimes we all need a good demo one how one tugs back the hood.

Pretty Pretty

2009-06-27T13:06:00.004-07:00

I think calla lilies have over taken white tulips as my official happy flower.

Simple. Elegant. Classy. They're like the anti-me.

Slacker

2009-06-25T22:57:00.009-07:00

I'm a little horrified that it's been almost a month since my last post. While I've been slacking on the blogging front it's because I've been anything but in the rest-of-life front. I just wrapped a redonkulously busy sixish weeks and damn, am I happy to have a little down time. And by a little down time I mean I have a couple of free hours one night this week because I friend I was going to help with some stuff didn't return my call, relegating him to the doghouse but freeing me up to fingerbabble.

So what's been keeping me so busy?

1) More school. This time a class called Painting: Creating a Surface. It was perfect for me because I am still a little scared of / very much suck at painting, but there was high-level collage-type business, which I'm all over.

2) A friend who works at the Art Gallery asked me to gussy up as the Queen of Hearts for their Mad Hatters Tea Party. We looked at borrowing costumes from a local theatre company, but damn, costumes meant to be viewed from a stage are not so good up close. And by not so good I mean bad puffy waisted gathering, and dammit, I wanted to be a purty queen. So I decided to make it. And I say goddamn, it looked good. I look dorky, but it looks good.

Tragically I don't have any detail shots, hopefully some will roll in. The only thing I didn't make was the hoop skirt giving it the width at the bottom. That was borrowed from the theatre. The skirt is the same embroidered taffeta as the top, which is lace trimmed at the neck and arms and has mad cute heart buttons. The bustle and apron are taffeta with little gold ribbon knots, and the apron is trimmed with black beading. It's sort of scootched up in the photos, should be pulled down more in front. The corset is a rather lovely silk brocade. It's three layers thick for added stability, and, because I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get steel boning at Dressew, is boned with wide cable ties. That's right, I went hardware store Gigyver all over that shit! It worked really well, and saved a chunk of change.

The headpiece doesn't really show in those. The veil part shows a bit here, it's come of my face a bit though. Probably trying to escape. Unfortunately the photo makes me want to get a facelift.

The gloves and choker were total last minute additions, which I think lean a little towards Deadwood era madam, which, let's face it, is probably what this is going to morph into. Hallowe'en is so taken care of.

Hey, check it, Griffy agreed to model the hat! Totally adds to his Puss n' Boots appeal.

Anywhoo, that little sucker sat just over the top of the veil, which Griffy didn't model as veil + claw = sure disaster. It started it's life as a dollar store cookie cutter. See.... Gigyver!

So, that's a good deal of what's been tying me up. There's also that whole annoying job thing that both cuts in to and funds my ability to creatively dork out. Le sigh.

Oh, and yes I did use patterns, though they were modified pretty drastically. The bustle, apron and skirt are from Simplicity 2851, the corset and top are from Simplicty 9769, which for some reason isn't on the Simplicity website. The top is a chopped and de-volumed version of the nightgown thingy, and the corset has been modified to remove the busk and make a flat front.

So (or sew ... get it?), I haven't really been slacking. And I've been multitasking in GarageBand while writing this post, so the Podcast that should have been up weeks ago is almost ready.

Oh yeah, Mama's back.

Who Do You Open the Door For?

2009-05-27T23:52:00.003-07:00

Ok M-Styles, your new post request is filled at the cost of my ability to sleep. Because I'm having residual freak out and can't settle, so I might as well write.

I was just sitting in my living room having some late night (11:30) soup, listening to Sigur Ros and reading. Suddenly became aware of an epilepsy inducing flashing light through the window. My first thought was, 'hmmm .... popo car outside, someone must me dicking around in the grocery store parking lot,' followed by 'maybe R. forgot something and is trying out a new way of summoning me' which sort of made sense, given that less than a half hour before he'd been chucking stones at my window.

So I looked out the window, half expecting a familiar face. But no, there's a relatively young, very attractive man in rolled up combat pants and black shirt standing on the back steps holding up a police badge and motioning to the back door. Now, if there had been a police car out there, or even another cop, I wouldn't have questioned it. But there wasn't. And it immediately felt wrong.

And this is the part that really bugs me. Everything in me wanted to phone the Victoria Police before I went to the door to confirm that they were actually responding to a call and that he was legit, but I didn't. I went to the back door with my phone in my hand, as if it would have done me any good if he was actually a nasty ass predator with a dollar store badge. And I held the door open a little to talk to him, as if I could have shut it stopped him from kicking it in. I was so incredibly aware of how vulnerable I was to whoever this person was, and I knew it was ok to call and confirm that he was a cop, but I didn't, lest I get in the way of someone that had called for the police.

He asked if I was in #4 (which I'm not) and relayed on the radio that the apartment with the light on was not #4, then asked me questions about my neighbours. Was it a woman that lived there alone? When was the last time I'd seen her? They're new, a couple, I've only met them once (seem nice), I'm only really aware of them when they are slamming the door on their way in and out. He said they'd had a call from her and came in to knock on their door. I locked myself back in my apartment and called the non-emergency line to confirm that the police were supposed to be there (i.e., that I hadn't just let a non-cop potential psycho killer in and now I really needed the popo), which they were. There was a lot of banging on the door across the hall accompanied by 'Victoria Police, open the door', clearly several more officers had arrived, and finally a guy opened the door. From behind my door it sounded exactly like an episode of The Shield.

"Victoria Police, we had a call to this address, is your girlfriend home?"

"Yeah...."

"We need to talk to her, she called us"

"Ahhhh....ok...."

"We're coming in, is there anyone else in there?"

So, so surreal.

And in the end it seems it was a false alarm, the call was from the former tenant, and for whatever reason her number was registered there. I'm assuming it was the beautiful, sort of crazy one who was forever fighting with and breaking up with guys, and often took her domestic phone squabbles out to the hall so I could hear them better than I'd have liked. Seemed to live for the drama, that one, and I hope for her sake that it was just a drama call and nothing serious is going down.

My poor neighbours were probably fast asleep and now as skeeved as I am.

And I'm mad at myself. That I didn't take the extra few seconds to make the call to clarify he was legitimately a cop before I went to the door. That when I did I took the time to look up the non-emergency number rather than calling 911. Because God forbid I inconvenience anyone, even if it's at the expense of my own safety. Good one, Gignac.

What Time is it, Mr. Wolf?

2009-05-10T22:52:00.002-07:00

I know, I know, it's been over a week. The internet has been a cold and lonely place. I'm awful...

Truth be told there's been a lot going on the last few weeks, but nothing I really want to write about. I'm burned out on my own shit.

So this will be short.

First thing - The Racoons last night were freaking awesome. I know, I know, the Wolf Parade comparison is stale, but come on, they faced it head on and played This Heart's on Fire. Love. Seriously, Team Vancouver, go check them out June 8th at Richards on Richards. And Team Victoria - June 12th, Sugar, CD release party. Posse up!

Second thing - Patrick Wolf.

Dear Patrick,

I fucking love you. I don't know if you like girls, and if you do you probably like little arty cool euro-chicks that read Proust and fart watermelon bubbles. I am not that girl. But I have an overwhelming desire to be your big spoon, gently nuzzling your shoulder blades to calm you when you are in the throes of a nightmare, warming your icy feet under my legs when we are curled up, burned out on the couch watching Skins, watching with admiration and a tinge of lust as you sit at my vanity, creating your Bowie-esque sexy-alien-ingenue looks while channeling Annie Lennox in the video for Why. I want to watch you kiss Owen Pallett. I don't know if you guys play that way, but in my head you do. I will be at your show at Richard's on June 6th. I know I sound crazy, but really, I'm a nice girl. Don't be scared.

xoxo ~ m

Mix Tape #3 - This is (Not Like) Home

2009-04-29T22:37:00.013-07:00

I just spent four days with a massively crippled Mac, mourning the loss of internet and my iTunes library. Thankfully things are back on track. Phew!

This mix came together on a trip to Vancouver a few weeks ago, much thanks to a rainy evening arrival in a darkened coach (bus, not horse-drawn, sadly). It's always a little weird for me going back to Vancouver. So many people I love dearly are there, and it was home for a long time. But the city is changing so fast, it no longer feels as familiar as it once did. Ditto for some of the people that were once so close.

So, much like Vancouver, this mix is a little nostalgic and a little new. It makes me sort of content and melancholy at the same time.

Refresher Couse: It's Podcasted, so if you are already subscribed hit refresh. If not, in iTunes go to Advanced, Subscribe to Podcast, and paste in this: http://shes-so-melicious.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default

Mixtape #3 - This is Not Like Home

1. Skeletons - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

2. Keep the Streets Empty for Me - Fever Ray

3. Makes Me Wanna Die - Tricky

4. Maybe You Can Owe Me - Architecture In Helsinki

5. Fuck Was I - Jenny Owen Youngs

6. I've Been Loving You Too Long - Otis Redding

7. Straight to Hell - Josh Rouse

8. We All Lose One Another - Jason Collett

9. Disarm - Smashing Pumpkins

10. Red - Treble Charger

11. Have You Forgotten - Red House Painters

12. She Clears Her Throat - ist

13. The Blower's Daughter - Damien Rice

14. Wonderwall - Cat Power

15. Friend Of Ours - Elbow

16. No Ones Gonna Love You - Band of Horses

17. Not Your Lover - Blitzen Trapper

18. Skeletons (acoustic) - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Image refuses to link to the downloadable cover, so click here.

A little about the tracks ...

1. Skeletons - I love this song so much I couldn’t decided between the the album cut and the bonus acoustic version, so I bookened the mix with both.

2. Keep the Streets Empty for Me - Despite hearing Fever Ray playing at Urban Outfitters over the weekend I am still willing to profess my deep love of this album. It's so where I’m at. Hipster tweens be damned.

3. Makes Me Wanna Die - Nostalgia Track #1. This was huge for me in my late teens / early 20s. Tricky and Massive Attack, pre-Portishead, pretty much took up most of my headphone time.

4. Maybe You Can Owe Me - I resisted Architecture in Helsinki based on the fact that their name is too cool. I am held back by my snobbery.

5. Fuck Was I - Love grows in me like a tumor, parasites bent on devouring its host. An antidote to all the fluffy tween-friendly radio love-crap.

6. I’ve Been Loving You Too Long - You simply can not fuck with Otis.

7. Straight to Hell - I had no freaking clue until just now this was a Clash cover. I’ve been schooled. Internet 1, Melissa 0.

8. We All Lose One Another - I put this before Disarm thinking hmmm...they just seem to need to be buddied up. Then I typed Smashing Pumpkins into Google in the middle of Jason Collett and accidentally Googled JasSmashing PumpkinsonCollett (or something like that). Oddly, I actually got a search result from Pitchfork that said this: Standout track "We All Lose One Another" opens with an echo of Smashing Pumpkins' "Disarm", then a rolling wave of acoustic guitar, violin, and piano carries Collett's vocal toward a triumphant chorus.

I could have written that. Thought stealers.

9. Disarm - Nostalgia Track #2. Billy Corgan might be a douche, but I still love this song. (Not unlike the Growing Pains with Brad Pitt. You know what I’m talking about! The Fallen Idol episode. I can’t find it on the internet machine, but holy shit, he had he played another role! What a talent! )

10. Red - Nostalgia Track #3. I’m not ashamed that I still love this song. I think I smoked weed with Treble Charger once. I’m not sure though, I was probably high.

11. Have You Forgotten - Thanks Mark Kozelek for hitting it home. Not quite an old enough friend to be nostalgic, but getting there.

12. She Clears Her Throat - You should all go buy this awesome band’s albums so they can tour Canada and I can drink beers and hang out with the kid that sat next to me in Grade 2.

13. The Blower’s Daughter - A friend of mine loved this song for months before catching ‘until I find somebody new’ at the end, which totally changes the emotional trajectory of the whole song. The Irish are sneaky that way.

14. Wonderwall - Awesome covers rarely made my mixes because there is usually annoying radio show intro or crowd noise bookending them. But now that Garage Band is my bitch it’s not a problem.

15. Friend of Ours - Again with how much I love Elbow. Every goodbye (and there have been many) I’ve ever bid a friend.

16. No One’s Gonna to Love You - Holy crap, computer fixed, podcast created, me reminded to get Band of Horses tickets. Done and done. I know where I’ll be September 5th. Soaking up the Bearded Hotness.

17. Not Your Lover - Ben was right about Blitzen Trapper. Dammit.

18. Skeleton (acoustic) - see #1

And just because it's that awesome ... more Brad Pitt ... this time on 21 Jump Street. That's right, Brad and Johnny. You're welcome.

#1 - I Am a Chronic Apologizer

2009-04-21T20:57:00.002-07:00

This is a new thing, to fill the times when I don't have the time / inclination / exhausted drunkenness to write a regular post. Because for me (much like working out), I miss a day, then a week, then suddenly, it's been a year and I haven't posted. And I can't be responsible for the devastating effect that could have on the internet.

I very rarely do any of the list/note fill-in-your-answers-and-tag-10-people crap on Facebook, but a few months ago I was rocking some serious procrastination, so I did the 25 Things one. It was sort if cathartic and interesting in a self-reflective sort of way, and elicited some interesting responses.

So, to keep the wheels greased (hee hee, I said greased) I'm going to take on the supremely narcissistic task of coming up with 100 Truths. About me. Well, they're probably more inane facts, but they'll be true. There might be some overlap with the ones from Facebook, but I'm ok with that.

#1 - I Am a Chronic Apologizer

You know how some people have a swear jar? They have to put a quarter or dollar in it when they swear. Given the amount I swear I'd have been penniless and naked years ago (grade school) if anyone had tried to instigate swear jar rules. So while I haven't had a Swear Jar I have had an Apology Jar. It may have been a tin. Whatever. I lived with my friends Heather and Mitchell years ago, and apparently they were more disturbed by my penchant for verbal atonement that they were by the Tourette's-like gunfire bursts of vulgarity and blasphemy.

Rare and beautiful people, both of them.

Anyhow, it drove Heather so nuts that she started chasing dollars every time I'd apologize for something that didn't really require apologizing for. Which usually led to me apologizing for apologizing ... and on ... and on. Vicious circle, that.

It was brought to my attention again yesterday on a phone call to a new friend (hey new friend!). I've had a shitty few days and was scattered and not forming words right, and kept apologizing for it. Apparently a normal action would be to say:

"You know what, I'm off work in 20 minutes, and I'm really distracted right now, so how about I call you then?"

Rather than:

"Sorry, shit, I'm so scattered, I can't find my words. Dammit. Fuck. What an idiot. Sorry."

Or something along those lines.

This is a chronic issues. Not my most disturbing chronic issue, but chronic nonetheless. By way of example, I have caught myself apologizing:

To a door I walked in to.
For farting in an empty room.
To a cab driver, when he didn't have the right change.
To my doctor, when she's had to deal with less than glamorous issues. Which, really, is an occupational hazard.
To the cat, when he runs in front of me and gets punted across the room.
To a boss that felt bad when she had to lay me off.

There's $6 I owe you Heather. Though they are past incidents and I probably owe you interest. Sorry.

Wingmen are for Pussies

2009-04-11T02:14:00.003-07:00

Dear E and H,

My ladies! So, right about now you are probably safely and happily ensconced in the sweet, bright starlight haven that is Cortes Island. If you see a dude in a newish burgundy Ford Ranger (I think, I'm shit with cars), say hi. It might be my Dad. Telltale sign will be the super smart looking tri-colour border collie riding shotgun.

As you know, I pulled the parachute on joining you this weekend. I've been harbouring a vicious cold for two weeks and was really lusting for a few days of agenda-free Melly time (PS, there are exactly two people that can call me that. No one that might be reading this are among those two people).

I had a lovely chill day, met a friend for coffee, went to Fabricland (only time I've ever gotten out of there for less than $20). By 7pm I was bored, and decided to channel the spirit of the solo hot chick from the Shout Out Out Out Out show and attempt a single sojourn out in public. So I tidied my shit up and headed out to Logan's to check out Pale Air and Mahogany Frog. Yes, the band name generator has officially run out options. (Awww...man... I made that shit up, but then googled it out of curiosity, and it exists!)

Blah blah blah, drunk irritating early 20s named Malcom and Boone (who, annoyingly, was dancing about like bloody Pan from The Mighty Hercules), high fiving all over the damn place. Anywhoo... I was sitting next to an annoying couple (what it is with me and being stuck near chicks that sound like dolphins?) and a dude struck up a conversation. He was out with another dude, apparently they were in a band 100 years ago together. I got much mileage out of teasing them about their man date. Chat chat chat, turns out he brokered my office's re-lease. Victoria is very small. Long story short, we hung out, they were leaving and I joined them for a smoke. Dude 1 left, dude 2 and I were walking in the same direction. At Pandora he was suddenly all 'yep, this is me' planted an awkward kiss on me and left. I was all 'whatthefuck!whatever!' and continued on my walk home, amused and a little confused. I got back to Le Village and, as I was about to pass Mac's thought 'wait, there is a reason I am supposed to stop at Mac's....' right... that would be my super delicate and high-maintenance kitty, who is out of home cooked food, and who I didn't want waking me up at 6 am.

So I go to Mac's to get a can of emergency tuna. But...the door is locked, and there is a 'Back in 5 minutes' sign up.

Let me tell you, nothing, and I mean nothing destroys your cool-solo-chick-out-on-the-town vibe faster than sitting outside a Mac's at 2am, waiting for the employee to finish taking his five minute shit, so you can buy a can of tuna for your whiny, bulimic 13 year old cat.

Except maybe getting home to a kitchen light you don't remember leaving on, grabbing your super sharp intruder knife and proceeding to check all the closets, behind the shower curtain, and under the bed.

It is next to me as I type, and hells yes, I'll be sleeping with that motherfucker tonight!

Oh, and I'm not sure why it's open to that page, but apparently I have entablature highlighted in my dictionary. That might be the most interesting revelation of the night.

Miss you guys!

xoxo ~ m

The Internet Giveth

2009-04-10T17:54:00.008-07:00

I've already established that the internet taketh away. Well, apparently the internet felt baddeth, because now it giveth.

Hey, let's relive one of my less proud moments! (Internal groan)

So, yesterday I was perusing Snap Vi ctoria looking for photos from the Shelter opening. (No photos of me, thank gawd, I'd rather be snapping them than in them. Because, well, I sort of look like this in photos.)
(Hey, it's the first image that came up when I googled worst face ever.)

Anywhoo... I noticed they had a listing for the last Urbanite event I was at. And I say godamn, the second photo down ... that's right ..... the subject of my inebriated Craigslist posting!

I had to confirm this with my wing-woman. There were, after all, several shaved-headed lookers there, but the shirt was ringing a big, loud bell.

Now, I realize that this is leaning a little (lot?) towards the side of inappropriate and creepy, but, hells, what am I if not exceptionally inappropriate with just a dash of creepy?

So, dear two readers, if either of you know who this fine young gentleman is (and don't say Matthew, I read that all by myself on the Snap page), please let me know. And if it happens to get back to the supposedly-named Matthew ... hey you! Thanks for the beer line chivalry. Sorry if this freaks you out. You seemed like a cool guy and I wanted to talk to you but I get freakishly shy and felt an 'I carried a watermelon' moment coming on. Although, in retrospect, that probably would have been a lot less embarrassing than this.

PS... I really like your shirt.

Mix Tape #2 - Get it Together, Gignac

2009-04-08T22:45:00.011-07:00

So I had a pretty rough start to the year. Someone I love was very, sick, and he died both shockingly quickly and cruelly slowly. I had a bad cold on a Monday and wasn't allowed to visit. I went to class on a Wednesday, planning to go to visit afterwards, because it had been decided that, at that point, my cold couldn't do any harm. I forgot my phone at home. I missed the call that he had died. I found out at the end of class.

A week later, to the day, I started a working in a residency of sorts with a visiting artist who was taking part in an exhibition at the AGGV. Way beyond my experience and skill level, but I seem to have a horseshoe up my ass, and somehow I was given this opportunity. It was amazing and challenging and eye-opening ... and needless to say I was a barely-functioning wreck. Honestly, I couldn't tell you much about it, because it's mostly a big blur of Don't. Lose. Your. Shit. I lost my shit a lot anyways.

It ended, I tied to get back into the work / school swing. Mostly I just wanted to sleep for a really long time. I was getting nothing accomplished in class, other than stressing about how little I was capable of doing, and honestly couldn't have given less of a shit about work.

My cat got sick, and it cost $640 to find out he was really constipated. Under normal circumstances this would be funny.

That little adventure, the kitty colon expedition ... well, it turned out to be the last nail in the freak-out coffin.

It sort of broke my heart to do it, but since quitting my job wasn't an option and I clearly needed to take a massive load off I withdrew from my classes. Oh, and then the next day I bailed down the back stairs, and was in back agony (bagony) for about a week, so photo class assignments would have been kiboshed anyways.

I mention all this because, well, it fucking sucked, but also because a few people I've mentioned it to have given me the 'ohhh...so you quit' face/voice. And it's funny, because for me, it was a victory of sorts. I put a huge amount of pressure on myself to perform (when it's something I care about). This is a girl who argues 90% grades, because there is ten.whole.percent.I.could. do.better. I push and push and try and, well, I have some pretty destructive ways of dealing with stress. So before I got a tattoo I couldn't afford or started scratching an old itch with a razor blade I thought maybe it was time to take a load off. Yes, it'll put me behind in the learning schedule, but when you find yourself thinking this ...

It's not that I want to die, I just want a nice, long break from life.

... well, you priority-up.

Anyhow, 2009 had an unkind start. I tried to improve my mood with music. This was one of mixes that got me through. It's Podcasted, so if you are already subscribed hit refresh. If not, in iTunes go to Advanced, Subscribe to Podcast, and paste in this: http://shes-so-melicious.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default

Photo links to PDF that fold to the right size for a CD insert.

Get it Together, Gignac - Track List

1. The Shining - Badly Drawn Boy
2. In the Road - Weeping Tile (but they've been defunct almost as long as my virtue, so check out Sarah Harmer too)
3. Pills - The Perishers
4. Love is Like a Bottle of Gin - The Magnetic Fields
5. Start A War - The National
6. The Season - The Dodos
7. Red - Elbow
8. For Agent 13 - The Besnard Lakes
9. A Lack Of Color - Death Cab For Cutie
10. I Will Call You Lover Again - Loney, Dear
11. Fidelity - Regina Spektor
12. Do You Realize? - The Flaming Lips
13. Calendar Girl - Stars
14. Of Montreal - The Stills
15. Chicago - Sufjan Stevens
16. Biko - Bloc Party
17. Triumphant - Royksopp
18. He Doesn't Know Why - Fleet Foxes
19. We're Just Friends - Wilco

And just for shits'n'giggles, a little background on each of the tracks.

1. I saw Damon Gough play at the Vogue about 1,000,000 years ago. He bitched a lot about how he'd been playing so many shows that his fingers were bleeding, which, as a musician I'd pretty much consider an occupational hazard, but whatever; he plays pretty music, so I forgive him. I sort of forgot about Badly Drawn Boy for a few years (despite multiple About a Boy viewings), but he's experiencing an apartment #3 resurgence of sorts.

2. She calls early in the morning about money that I might have spent. It's a classic case of I don't know where it went. Anyone that knew me at 20 (when I was in Kingston and fell in love with this then-local band) knows why this song would have struck a chord. Anyone who knows me at 32 will get why I grimace at how it still resonates.

3. I worked at a record label in the management division a few years ago. They signed this band that made pretty music, but had horrible press photos. Now they have generically ok press photos, the singer hooked up with a former co-worker (luuuuucky), and I haven't heard anything they've done since this album. But I fucking love this song. It's so simple, and pretty, and true. I defy you to tell me you don't have a past (well, hopefully past) relationship it could be applied to.

4. It's very small and made of glass and grossly over-advertised ... uh, yeah, true that. Two truths. 1) I'm in love with the idea of love. 2) I'm in love with the reality of gin. Oh, third truth ... Stephen Merritt only wears brown. Saving time sartorially probably frees up time to write, what, 100 songs a day? Dude is prolific, just sayin'...

5. I loaned The Boxer to a friend recently. He returned it with the comment that (and I'm paraphrasing here) everything he hated about Crash Test Dummies is what he loves about The National. Deep voices done right. Songs that make me want to hug my friends. I say goddamn ...

6. This is one of many reasons that I am bummed to miss Samsquantch this year. Damn you $640 vet bill for feline constipation, and also damn you chronic-yet-still-undiagnosed colon issue that makes travel suck! (Me, not the cat.) And for which I have a GI appointment the day I'd leave for Sasquatch. Damn you (Alanis Morisette definition of) irony!

7. Can someone please explain to me why Coldplay is so friggin' famous, and hardly anyone knows Elbow? Chris Martin has (apparently) said that Fix You (the only palatable Coldplay sing since A Rush of Blood to the Head, and even then, only when I have my period) is a rip of Grace Under Pressure. Plus, Elbow was in 9 Songs. Which has some great live concert footage ... if you can get past all the normal looking people fucking. Seriously, the IMDB keywords for this movie include voice-over narration, female to male foot in crotch , black panties and Antarctica. That's got to be worth your $2 down at Pic-a-Flic, right?

8. What's with all the fantastic husband/wife teams coming out of Montreal, anyways? Tabernac! I should have stuck it out there ....

9. All the girls in every girlie magazine can't make me feel any less alone ... Nor the porn on xtube, nor the one night stands I'm not having. PS, remember before The OC? Before frat boys liked Death Cab... sigh ....

10. You know what? Forget Montreal. What's with Sweden upping the ante? Hey Per! You started a trend. Of Swedish awesome. Plus, they have cool punctuation.

11. I just realized this is a heavily dude dominated mix. Hey Regina, thanks for pillaging my mind grapes and making it a hit song. I hear in my mind all these voices, I hear in my mind all these words, I hear in my mind all this music, And it breaks my heart ... um, yeah, sort of the story of my life.

12. The first in a trifecta of songs that talks about death. Wonder what's been on my mind (grapes). Also, Wayne Coyne is sexy, writes songs I'd like to wake to having murmured in my ear, and has a big ball.

13. This song was big for me when I was floundering in Montreal, and it still is. It used to be more about all of the things that I thought were so easy just got harder and harder each day, but lately I'm more feeling I can't live forever,I can't always breath, One day I'll be sand on a beach by a sea. PS. That would be fine. Or go all John Prine, whatever. Just, please, don't bury me, down in the cold cold ground.

14. May 9th at Sugar is the place to be if you are in to Andy Samburg looking fellows, with Arafat scarves tied over their mouths, talking about the Gaza Strip. Oh, and also, rocking.

15. Hi, my name is Sufjan Stevens. I'm the most attractive man born in 1975, play upwards of 26 instruments and am writing a full-length album for each state. How's your life coming along?

16. Hey! Look! A song about cancer! What a surprise. Seriously though ... Kele and the boys have soundtracked a few vulnerable moments (see: Kruezberg and SXRT, for starters), but oh my god, this song ... I'm fucking crying. Fuck. If I could eat your cancer, I would. Indeed.

17. Because after that I need a hug. Thanks, Royksopp.

18. So then you shake it off, and throw on some Fleet Foxes. Sub Pop still has mojo.

19. The other story of my life. Not just that I have a terminal case of just-a-friend, but also the whole make some coffee, hold me up, try to talk me out of giving up. Hmmm... yeah I can think of a few friends who've filled that job description over the years.

Ok, that's all.

Dear Laurie

2009-04-05T00:54:00.013-07:00

I went to see Chad VanGaalen tonight.* This wouldn't qualify as relevant in any sense (trust me on that) except that it got me thinking about you. Specifically, the last time I saw you. I don't know if it was the overwhelming youthfulness of the crowd - they'd have been, on average, the age we were last time we saw each other - or the aching earnestness of the skinny boy in the Handsome Furs shirt on stage, but goddamn, for a moment I was back at the Trash, at a Hayden show, hugging you a fast and disbelieving goodbye before the reality of my pending flight, the finality of the evening, and the inevitable tears set in. I remember you leaving before the show was done, and me waiting to chat with Hayden and getting him to sign a thieved poster for you. My memory gets sketchy around here, but I think I left it outside your apartment door on my way out of town. It always struck me as funny, that our last night would be at an CanCon indie show, because, really ... Down By Law, Sebadoh ... the bands I associate with you and that time, Hayden ... not exactly on par. But I suppose that wasn't really the point.

The point was that it was two of us, for the last time, in a long time.

We met over a boy. His name was Dan, and we both volunteered to decorate for the Student Film Society’s Hallowe’en party because it was at his house. Long story short, we did a fair amount of not so surreptitiously sizing each other up at the meeting, and by the end of the walk back to campus had sort of grudgingly admitted that ourselves that we liked each other. Random Dan facts: his birthday was on Valentine’s Day; he was once in the audience of Jerry Springer; and apparently he is a part-time farmer now. WTF?

You were different than most of the people at Queen’s (translate: didn’t eat ivy or row boats). Although I didn’t eat ivy, I did formerly row boats. However, I was from a crappy public school in BC and apparently spoke funny (i.e., didn’t pronounce vowels through my nose). I had badly bleached hair, and an eyebrow piercing and tattoos. You had always perfect (though ever-changing) hair, bigger tattoos, loved Spike Jones and were a huge dose of awesome antidote to the ridiculous girls in my dorm, with their Anne Geddes babies-in-flowerpot posters, Backstreet Boys, and constant pre-bar fighting and crying and making up. Ugh. Never even mind my one roommate who upped the barf ante with a Little Mermaid poster and Love Fool by the Cardigans on constant repeat. But I digress.

We lived together in our second year, with three other girls in a house that was, apparently, of former ill repute. Exhibit A being the Peterborough Needle Exchange shirt we found under the deck ("Don't Fuck With A User Unless He's Hooked on Condoms"), and Exhibit B being the cab drivers that thought we were hookers. I was broke and had to take what I thought at the time was a year off, working two shit jobs at the mall, never thinking that was the end of my higher education. I’d come home all grouchy from doing time at Le Chateau, with its endless Savage Garden soundtrack, or reeking of coffee from a shift at Second Cup and you’d be there, all lovely and raring to go out dancing at the Trash (remember shopping for the right running shoes? The ones that had enough bounce to let you get back on the heels?), or to do whatever it was we did at the grotty little place up Princess ... I can’t remember the name of it. I do remember sitting there, totally skeeved on mushrooms, convinced that my spinal fluid was leaking out of my neck tattoo.

We had fantastically fun nights, we had terribly scary nights, we hosted an epic party for which business card sized flyers were, unbeknownst to us at the time, handed out around town. We hitchhiked to Ottawa to catch a bus to Montreal for a rave (god, that word makes me shudder now). We returned the karma later that year by picking up a hitchhiker who not only turned out to be a carnie, but actually had a hook for a hand. I think every Sarah Michelle Gellar movie was based on this incident.

We pierced out tongues and ate popsicles. We talked about boys (invariably named Jason) and how your kids would be born with tattoos and wearing beaters, and ate chips and french onion dip. You trained me to make Kraft Dinner just.how.you.like.it...which was weirdly chunky. You took me to the SPCA to adopt Griffin, who paid you back by eating your chair and Bjork poster, and bringing in fleas that left the one other awesome roomie (hey Shannon!) and the two less awesome roomies alone, but left you so scarred below the knee that your mom offered to have him put down.

You had inarguably style and a pretty fierce sense of self. I was always a little in awe of you, and still am. Because I was, and in some ways still am, always searching, but you, you always seemed so sure.

So that night, a hundred years ago at the Trash, Hayden singing his slightly off-key sensitive boy music, I had no idea than that, what, 11, 12 years later it would still be the last time I saw you. Or that after all this time, and all the incredible friends I’ve made since, that there would still be a hole where you and your ever-present (diet?) Coke used to be.

You have two beautiful daughters (with a new addition on the way) and a husband who I've never met. Of course I've seen photos, and heard them on the background on the phone during our fleeting and awkward conversations. I had the opportunity to meet your husband and your beautiful Grace, of course, at your wedding. Your wedding that I was so excited for, and ultimately didn't attend. Small dose of the honesty here? And I'll type it fast because this is going to hurt. It wasn't just time off of a new job and money and logistics that that kept me from making the trip. Yes, those things were factors, but factors I could have mitigated and made work. It was me, indulging my old friend Depression, terrified of who I'd become, or rather not become, and who you'd always been, so beautiful and so fucking real (to paraphrase your song), and how I wouldn't fit anymore. As much as I love Facebook for facilitating reconnections with a lot of people I've lost track of over the years, the access to the lives I haven't been a part of, and the photos that show, so clearly, that I don't fit in them anymore, is the ugly flipside of that coin. I couldn't face being the nostalgic friend, the novelty that no one quite understands how they once fit. So I pulled the parachute. I went to Vancouver for the weekend instead and saw Bloc Party and Final Fantasy, feeling the whole time every inch the asshole that someone who, because of bullshit insecurities, skipped the wedding of one of the most important people to grace her life should. I'm so sorry. Your photos were so beautiful, and I should have been there, taking them.

I didn’t go to Chad VanGaalen expecting to come home to such an aching sense of nostalgia or want of a friend I haven’t seen since my 20s were still starchy fresh. I also didn’t expect to be gleeking beer in the hair of some dime-a-dozen indie ‘ho trying to douchebag her way between me and the stage, so surprises all over the place here. The beginning of the year was a bit of a shitstorm for me, and out of the loss and opportunity and franticness that all barreled together came a balls-out desire for some straight up honesty, and to say thank you to some people who have been so very important to me.

So Laurie, you’re first one the list. Thank you for being one of smartest, strongest, and unapologetically herself women I’ve known. I hope that, one day, when I have daughters, they will know you. Because I want them to know that independent and challenging and true to self is beautiful. And I can’t think of a better way than knowing you to deliver that message.

* I started writing this Sunday after the show, but due to a bad cold, a strong martini, and total lack of appropriateness filter put off finishing and posting it a few days.

Mixtape #1 - Finally....The Days are Getting Longer

2009-04-02T22:44:00.012-07:00

I've always been a lover of mix tapes. Back in the olden days (you, know, the 90s), before recordable CDs and, um, internet (well, there was The Internet, but it certainly wasn't the monster it is today) mix tapes - actual 90 minute tapes - were how we shared and learned about new music. They were the soundtracks of our road trips, friendships and breakups. There was an art to arranging songs in just the right order so nothing got cut off just before a side ran out. They were hard to find your favorite song on, especially if your friend's car stereo had that weird ass thing where there was no fast forward, so you had to flip the tape over, rewind, flip it back, check if you'd gone too far or not far enough, flip it back rewind some more ... lather, rinse repeat until you got as close as humanly possible to the beginning of Lost Together, or whatever song summed up your particular unrequited-love-teen-angst-bullshit-moping-situation at the moment. They were prone to snagging and coming unraveled and patience and a steady hand were paramount to their successful respooling. A Bic pen - the kind with the octagonal shaped shaft - helped too.

There are parts of my life that feel in a way defined by the mix tapes I associate with them. They are love letters, Dear John's and diary entries spoken in a stranger's words and set to music. They represent the people I've loved, the ones I didn't at the time realize loved me and the friends I've left behind, and often lost touch with, in my far too frequent moves. Smashing Pumpkins' 1979 will forever remind me of Justine, who I adored in high school, and who was adored by the boy I was crushing on. It was on the mix she gave me when I moved across the country for university, with a little hand drawn cover cartoon of me. I think with Queen's pompoms. Chelsea, one of the loveliest women I've ever had the privilege of befriending, and I spent bitch-ass cold mornings delivering the Golden Word (one of the campus papers) together. It was in the heyday of Spice Girls and boy bands and we'd hear the same dozen songs in the pre-dawn dark every week, giggling at the awfulness of them as we sang along in her little white car. I want to say it was a Supra, but I don't remember it as well as the music. I still have the tape she made me of that early morning soundtrack. Specifically though, Portishead's Only You will always be my Chelsea song. There was a party, there were excessive drunkeness and tears and Chelsea making it all ok, and Only You was playing. And it was on the tape. And I'd rather associate her with Beth Gibbons than any of the Spice varitals.

Ani DiFranco's Untouchable Face - and this is truly cringeworthy - was the last song on a tape I made to give a guy I luuuurved before he left Kingston for a summer trip to Europe. I brought it to his house, palms sweating, heart racing ... only to find out I'd missed him by about an hour. I left it with his roommate, and cried on the way home. A few weeks later, I was overcome with the paralyzing fear that that song ... it was just too obvious. I think I was aiming for 'I think I'm in love with you, but I want to put that across in a subtle way that you can discover for yourself if you're looking to read something into this track list' and 'fuck you and your untouchable face, and fuck you for existing in the first place. And who am I that I should be vying for your touch, and who am I, I bet you can't even tell me that much' seemed, in retrospect, a little heavy handed in the delivery of the message. I actually got his roommate to get the tape back for me so I could erase the song off of it, and remove it from the track list on the painstakingly collaged cover. He came back and we had one fantastic summer date that ended with ‘Melissa, I’m attracted to you but... I’m moving to Vancouver in six weeks, and I don’t think it would be a good idea to start anything.’ I’m pretty sure it was a gentle let down, but I was so stunned that the word attracted even came out of his mouth in reference to me that I didn’t test the theory by saying what I should have. Which, obviously, was ‘But think of the damage we could do to each other in six weeks.’ Le sigh....

Most of the mixes I’ve made and received post-university are on CD, which, being a geek for making covers, I love. More space to play with. One of the best covers (and mixes) I ever received was from Linnea. The last track on the CD is Death Cab for Cutie’s Transatlanticism, introducing my still-favorite song by a band that I love and at one point managed to barter my extra guest list for a sold-out Seattle show in trade for a bed at a sold out hostel. Lali Puna’s Faking the Books will always be Dave. Dave who is so beautiful and who I don’t think I’ll ever really know. But whose fantastic mix is always near the top of the pile. Michelle has introduced me to a disproportionate number of my highest ranked bands, and the two mixes she gave me for my ill-fated move to Montreal are still loved and still played, though it’s a trifecta of covers from the Chill Mix - Elbow’s cover of Massive Attack’s Teardrop, Johnette Napolitano & Danny Lohner’s cover of Coldplay’s The Scientist and The Postal Service’s cover of Phil Collins’ Against All Odds that I listened to obsessively while navigating my way through the Metro on my way to and from my short lived job.

I’ve been making mixes pretty obsessively the past year or so, and I’ve gone through a few 50-spindles burning them for people. They’ve been weekly soundtracks to art class assignments, party invites and, more recently, therapy at a time when I haven’t the heart or energy to do much more than try to shut the world out with headphones.

Part of the impetus for reviving this blog was having a forum to share the music I’m listening to. Writing this has made me realize I really should make a mix tape compilation of my most memorable mix tape moments. I'll put that on list. For this week though, a taste of what's been often played as of late.

The songs are a mix of new friends and old flames: a catchy reminder that all shitty situations come to an end if you can just get through them; a song that - played live - made me inexplicably randy; an acoustic cover of an old favorite; something new from last year's bearded hotness, a new girl crush .... and on it goes. It's not an attempt to be all edgy and 'ohhh...check out all the cool shit I listen to', far from it. Just what I've been listening to the past few weeks, as the cherry trees have begun to blossom and the sun has decided to stay out long and late enough for a first evening patio beer.

You can download the mix here, but I'd recommend adding it to your podcasts, just because I am so damn proud that I figured out how to make a podcast. Whoot .... girl got skills! It's super easy. In iTunes, click on Advanced. In the dropdown menu click Subscribe to Podcast. Enter this URL: http://shes-so-melicious.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default. Note: You may have to enter it without the http:// . Sometimes it ends up putting that in twice. iTunes will do its thing, and when there are new podcasts they will download into your podcast files. It'll take about 6 minutes, so keep your pants on. You can also click the refresh button to check if there is anything exciting and new. If anyone has trouble with this let me know and I'll do a screenshot tutorial.

These images link to cover downloads - courtesy of wordle, because I'm just that lazy. I'm a Libra and can't make decisions for shit, so there are 2 choices.

Finally ... The Days are Getting Longer - Track List

1. This Year - The Mountain Goats
2. Why Not Smile - R.E.M.
3. Spent On Rainy Days - Bright Eyes
4. A Martyr For My Love For You - The White Stripes
5. Sound Of Terror - The Von Bondies
6. E-Bow - Sigur Rós
7. The Highest - The Dears
8. Fake Plastic Trees - Radiohead
9. Heart Of Gold - Neil Young
10. You, Appearing - M83
11. Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
12. Blood Bank - Bon Iver
13. Lille - Lisa Hannigan
14. All We Have Is Now - The Flaming Lips
15. I Am The Odd One - Loney, Dear
16. Weather To Fly - Elbow
17. Oh Lord, My Heart - The Deadly Snakes
18. The Trouble and the Truth - Cuff The Duke

I've linked to all the band's websites, so if there is something you like, check it out, find their show dates, buy their music.

Be warned though, I have it on good authority that Cuff the Duke can cause spontaneous orgasms. At least live they can.

Heartbreak

2009-04-01T12:51:00.004-07:00

Oh internet, you have broken what was left of my scarred, charred little heart.

Christopher Walken's Twitter was, in fact, not Christopher Walken's Twitter. There was a part of me that had assumed as much, but dammit, it was so witty and sly ... I didn't really care. Sort of like knowing from the pale band of skin on a tanned finger that the cute guy you met in the hotel bar has a wife back home.

But now, Internet, you've taken it all away. Because apparently fraud rules are more important than my heart's true joy.

No more Lucinda Williams dedications for you, fake disappeared Christopher Walken. You've left me cold and disillusioned. You snuck out before the first flicker of dawn, leaving me to my staggering mini-bar tab, shameface and possibly something itchy.

I wonder how you live with yourself. I wonder, but there isn't enough left of me to care.

Weekly Fail

2009-03-30T00:57:00.002-07:00

I have accomplished nothing on my weekly to-do list. This whole accountability thing is for far more accountable people than I. The mail is still in a pile, taxes unprocessed, smoke detector sitting on the printer, curtain rod leaning against the fireplace ... and it goes on. I did get the wall partially patched, but it needs another fill, a sand and paint before I reinstall. Le sigh.

Fail.com

Words of Wisdom from Uncle Karl

2009-03-26T23:14:00.006-07:00

"Loving someone is fine, but they have to love you back or it doesn’t work."

Thank you, Karl Lagerfeld, for Tweeting my life story in 140 characters or less.

******
I'm stuck for a track for Daily Sound, which is sort of redonk given my PhD in Unrequited Love (my education started in kindergarten with Danny White) so I'm taking suggestions. Anything you want to nominate as an anthem for the Union of the Emotionally Retarded and Flag Bearers of Inappropriate Crushes?

******

Update Nine Inch Nails - Something I Can Never Have. Obviously. I just needed a moment to access my deep chasm of self indulgent emotional dramatics and negotiate my way back to university - this song (playing on a bright yellow Sony Sports Walkman, natch), a bitterly cold fall night wandering Queen's campus with its spooky and imposing limestone buildings and the certain knowledge that a TA named Jason thought absolutely nothing of me beyond that I wrote great essays about dull films exploring themes of diaspora.

I'm linking to a video, because, well, Trent Reznor is hot. And this is a full service blog.

PS - I also wrote a paper on assumptions of male domination in Pretty Woman. That's right. Pretty Woman. They don't call it the Harvard of the North for nothing.

PPS - I still have those papers if any dishonest little buggers are looking for something in the 82% - 90% range. From Queen's remember. That's like 95% to 100% at normal schools. Snap! Oh yes I did! I am a snob.

I am also a Queen's dropout. Last laugh on me.

In lieu of having anything to say ...

2009-03-24T18:42:00.017-07:00

I'm not in a bloggy place today, so in lieu of writing much of anything I'm going to post some photos that would have been up here eons ago if I hadn't been so delinquent with the blogging for, um, years. They won't be anything new to anyone who's poked through my Facebook albums (so both of you, most likely) but hells, they should have been posted eons ago.

Anywhoo.... I thought I'd post a few shots from my trip to China in 2006.

So of course the first day, running on very little sleep, we were trucked out to the Great Wall. It is spectacular. And challenging, having very steep and very uneven steps. And very surreal to get a good way up and hear Hollerback Girl blasting from a tour bus in the parking lot.

This killed me, we were at this massive buddha monument, and there were rollerskate rentals outside. If my little hospital side-trip hadn't just proved my universal health care less than universal I would have been tempted to throw injury caution to the wind and give'r.

I think this was the same day. The thing I had the hardest time with was being so on the go that it was hard to get good shots in. This might have been from the bus. There was something about the little outpost that was a little sad and lonely.

We did some hella touristy king fu shows and such. The first one was pretty impressive, but I'd stop at one next time.

I could have spent days wandering the houtongs in Beijing. So much history and life and bustle and smells just careening around in these little alleys.

I loved this guy, totally rickety ass old cart - and he's all chilled out texting on a way more skookum phone that I had at the time. Or have now for that matter.

Apparently the mayor was going to be coming through just after us, and this policeman was keeping an eye out for ruffians.

The rickshaws are very pretty, but oh my god, I thought it was going to fall apart under me, like in some bad cartoon.

Dave got a shot about 2 seconds after me where this little bag of donuts turned into something from Pet Cemetery.

This was taken in Jinan, which possibly my favorite place on the trip. They have a fantastic public space / park which is surrounded by a moat with bridges connecting it to the surrounding roadways. This busker blew my mind. Shame about the pollution smog though.

At night the park is total action - and not in a skeevy way. Ballroom dancing, rollerskating - well utilized public space, and kids that don't look like they rot on their asses playing video games all night.

I'm blanking out on the names of the towns these were taken in. Sorry, just got in from wings and beer. West Lake maybe?

There are some curious food storage practices. Which might explain my little e-coli induced hospital detour. (Note, I did not eat any of the foods shown below).

This is my favorite shot of the trip.

And totally unrelated, but because I am totally charmed by Christopher Walken's Twitter (part of my Lainey addiction issue - she's like a gateway drug) the Daily Sound- Lucinda Williams' Something About What Happens When We Talk goes out to him. Because I love a man that Twits about Lucinda Williams. And I'm feeling a little like this song lately.

Tuesday is the New Funday

2009-03-22T13:57:00.003-07:00

I know I often bitch about Victoria's music scene - or lack thereof - because we don't get a fraction of the tour action Vancouver sees. True, there is little likelihood that Sigur Ros or Bloc Party will ever grace us with their presence, but to be fair, things are looking up for the next few months. Shout Out Out Out Out, Wintersleep (sold out before I got my damn ticket, so internet machine, bring me some ticket karma), Elliott Brood, Chad Vangaalen, Attack in Black (so much better live than recorded) and the Dears are on my to-do list, and with the lovely Otto making her way back from Deutschland in a month my good -time-lady-posse will be nicely rounded out. I'm priming up for some shoegazing with intermittent bouts of ass shaking. Thank God for Atomique Productions.

The Von Bondies show a few weeks ago shook me out of my bitching phase. First, The Racoons (Their choice to miss a c, not mine) left me wishing I'd hurried my ass up and gotten there earlier. Victoria has birthed some fantastic talent, and The Racoons seem poised to take the local hero status left vacant with Wolf Parade's move east. They're catchy as hell, tight on stage, and have some really trampy fans. Recipe for success? I think so.

I also ran into an old friend from high school - really more the super-awesome-arty-I-want-to-be-like-her-but-am-just-not-cool girlcrush from high school. And of course I completely dorked out, because that's what I do. And of course, she's still awesome and crushable, because that's who she is. We were chatting and a very attractive dude comes over, and she says "Don, this is my old friend Melissa. She came to see your band." Yeah, that would have been Don Blum, the Von Bondies' drummer. Friends with the Von Bondies from her year in Detroit .... further proof that, while the so called popular douchbags peak around 18 and wither into paunchy balding disasters, the arty awesome kids keep on that trajectory through life. And she did her Brenda Walsh face for me. Girlcrush, reactivated.

I started right at the front, because I love me some flinging band sweat, but, due to a gimpy back from a tumble down the stairs, and well, a bitchin' case of The Thirties, I had to retreat back a bit when the kids got all whipped up frenzylike. Moshing? They still do that? It sort of freaked me out that when I was going through my moshy phase most of the crowd was in the kindergarten to grade 3 range. Shudder.

Anyhow, Von Bondies, fantastic live. And this song, this one song, as I said to the friend I was with, is the soundtrack for a night you are out too late and drink too much and are probably a little high and are working your way out of your clothes before you hit the apartment door and have totally Quentin Tarantino movie sex with someone who's maybe a little dangerous and totally wrong for you ... Or that's how it struck me at the time. Not so much in the comfort of my bathrobe and living room, but live, oh hells yeah.

Daily Sound: Von Bondies - Sound of Terror. Listen here. Yes, I know it links to Amazon, but it's not on the Von Bondies MySpace, and I am disinclined to dick around looking for a cooler link.

On the way home we had a killer cab driver who was blogging on his iPhone when he picked us up. I forgot about it until now, but I just found his blog, diaryofataxidriver, and am glad I did, because it makes me want to dig out my Diana and Supersampler and take pretty, surreal photos of my friends. So, thank you taxi driver.

This is why the internet should be breathalyzer activated.

2009-03-22T00:45:00.003-07:00

Seriously. I mean, on the upside, despite it having been posted 2:30 am after a lot of beer, I did remember to spellcheck, and I can live with the grammar oopsie. But really ... all class.

The best part is that I think this ad might be about the same guy. Though there were a few hot guys with stars on their cheeks. In fact, I think we may have cracked the 'where do all the tasty man-treats in this town hide' code. At Urbanite. Which really ought to happen more than once every four months. 'Cause Mama needs some eye candy.

I did have some pretty bitching hiccups last night.

Oh. Dear. God. Not this blogging thing again....

2009-03-21T21:43:00.005-07:00

That's right, I'm giving this another crack after a long hiatus. I'm still wrapping my head around the format / content this is going to take, but basically I was thinking Damn, I'm cranking through a lot of CDs burning mixes for my friends, I should podcast them. Which got me thinking about blogging, and having somewhere to post them. Plus, you know, third-life crisis going on (Sooo scary that I'm past quarter-life. Third-life is even optimistic. There aren't a lot of 96 year olds in my family.) so really, what better way to sort out my whole who am I, what do I want to do with my life angst than in a totally public forum that exactly two people are likely to read (Hey Michelle and Helen!).

So, here's hoping I become an internet phenom, or at least break through my post-a-year barrier.

Daily Sound - Bon Iver Blood Bank. Listen here.

Newsflash

2008-06-11T23:13:00.000-07:00

I fall in love with all the wrong people.

Question

2007-12-03T23:55:00.001-08:00

Why do wet under ground parkades smell exactly like skating rinks?

Seriously, this has been bugging me for years. Is it the wet, contained concrete?

Discuss among yourselves.