My favorite on the album thus far.

Just because I'm losing
Doesn't mean I'm lost
Doesn't mean I'll stop
Doesn't mean I will cross

Just because I'm hurting
Doesn't mean I'm hurt
Doesn't mean I didn't get what I deserve
No better and no worse

I just got lost
Every river that I've tried to cross
And every door I ever tried was locked
Ooh-Oh, And I'm just waiting till the shine wears off...

You might be a big fish
In a little pond
Doesn't mean you've won
'Cause along may come
A bigger one
And you'll be lost

Every river that you tried to cross
Every gun you ever held went off
Ooh-Oh, And I'm just waiting till the firing starts
Ooh-Oh, And I'm just waiting till the shine wears off
Ooh-Oh, And I'm just waiting till the shine wears off
Ooh-Oh, And I'm just waiting till the shine wears off . . .

—Coldplay / Lost!

When the future's architectured by a carnival of idiots on show, you'd better lie low

Really digging the new Coldplay album.



Was a long and dark December
From the rooftops I remember
There was snow
White snow

Clearly I remember
From the windows they were watching
While we froze
Down below

When the future's architectured
By a carnival of idiots on show
You'd better lie low

If you love me
Won't you let me know?

Was a long and dark December
When the banks became cathedrals
And the fog
Became God

Priests clutched onto bibles
Hollowed out to fit their rifles
And the cross was held aloft

Bury me in honor
When I'm dead and hit the ground
A love back home unfolds

If you love me
Won't you let me know?

I don't want to be a soldier
Who the captain of some sinking ship
Would stow, far below

So if you love me
Why'd you let me go?

I took my love down to Violet Hill
There we sat in snow
All that time she was silent still

So if you love me
Won't you let me know?

If you love me,
Won't you let me know?

—Coldplay / Violet Hill

A favorite.

I took my love, I took it down
Climbed a mountain and I turned around
I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
till the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky
What is love
Can the child within my heart rise above
Can I sail thru the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life

Well, Ive been afraid of changing
cause Ive built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older
Im getting older too

Oh, take my love, take it down
Climb a mountain and turn around
If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills
Well the landslide will bring it down

If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills
Well maybe the landslide will bring it down

—Fleetwood Mac, Landslide

Rain it on down

I never made time
You never made much sense
We never stood a chance
If we're honest

You were not the first
And I won't be the last
But if it makes it better
Well you can call me what you will

Get Home late
No-one's here
Pace around the house
And sit in my chair

And if you think of me
It doesn't mean a thing
So why don't you just tell me what you really think again?

I don't care what you call me
Oh I
I don't care what you call me
No I
I don't care what you call me
'Cos it won't hurt any more

I know I let you down
And Christ you let me know
Every time and time again

Just another afternoon
Get drunk and disappear
So call me what you will

Rain it on down
What else can you throw at me?
I haven't heard before

And tear me on down
I am unforgivable
So why don't you just tell me what you really think again

I don't care what you call me
Oh I
I don't care what you call me
Oh I
I don't care what you call me
'Cos it won't hurt any more

Rain it on down
What else can you throw at me?
I haven't heard before

And tear me on down
I am unforgivable
So why don't you just tell me what you really think again

Scream me on down
I am so forgettable
Yes I know

Shoot me on down
Don't you think this isn't killing me
So why don't you just tell me what you really think again

I don't care what you call me
Oh I
I don't care what you call me
No I
I don't care what you call me
'Cos it won't hurt any more

—David Ford / I Don't Care What You Call Me

Off limits.

Oh, for fuck's sake. I'm all for live blogging but . . . but . . . at a funeral?? Come. On.

Live-Blogging Russert Memorial

Here comes the clout.

SCORPIO [October 23–November 21]: Now that we're at the halfway mark, Scorpio, one of the most important things I hope you're doing is increasing your effectiveness as a communicator. What do I mean by that? While it's true that you gather information more skillfully than any other sign, you aren't necessarily as blessed when it comes to sharing information. In part, that's because you believe that keeping secrets enhances your personal power. And, in part, it's because you sometimes forget that other people aren't as clued in to what's happening below the surface as you are. Your mandate in the coming months is to overcome those challenges as you learn to express yourself with ever greater candor, clarity, and clout.
—Rob Brezsny, Village Voice

I'm still married to it all

Take everything that we've had
Take it and burn it to the ground
Some things were never meant to last
Take it down down down
Take it down

I'm still married to it all
That ain't no place to hand around
My love is fifty feet tall
Take it down down down
Take it down

And I've grown accustomed to the way
You hurled us into space
I'll never make that trip
Tears all rusted on my face
I'm just an empty place
Where your love used to fit

South Carolina, where are you?
You were once lost, now are found
The war is over, the battle's through
Take it down down down
Take it down

Take it down down down
Take it down

—Wailin' Jennys / Take it Down

You better ask somebody on how we flip the script -- Come to a Tribe show and watch the three kids rip

Hip-Hop at its finest.



Linden Boulevard represent, represent
Tribe Called Quest represent, represent
When the mic is in my hand, I'm never hesitant
My favorite jam back in the day was Eric B. for President

Rude boy composer
Step to me you're over
Brothers wanna flex
You're not Mad Cobra
MC short and black
There ain't no other
Trini-born black like Mia Longs grandmother
Tip and Sha they all that, Phife-Dawg ditto
Honey tell your man to chill, or else you'll be a widow
Did not you know that my styles are top-dollar?
The Five-Foot Assassin knockin' fleas off his collar
Hip-hop scholar since bein' knee-high to a duck
The height of Mugsy Bogues, complexion of a hockey puck
You better ask somebody on how we flip the script
Come to a Tribe show and watch the three kids rip

Queens is in the house represent, represent
A Tribe Called Quest represent, represent
No tamin' of the style cuz it gets irreverent
A Tribe Called Quest represent, represent

Huh-huh, here we go
You know that I'm the rebel
Throwin' out the wicked like God did the Devil
Funky like your grandpas drawers, don't test me
We in like that, you're dead like Presley
When we comin' through get tickets to see me
We work for the paper so there'll never be a preemie
Lyrics are abundant cuz we got it by the mass
Egos are all idle cuz the music is the task
Valenzuela on the pitch, curveball, catch it
I think I got it locked, just smooth while I latch it
Right
Now I must move with the quickness
Here comes Shaheed so we must bear the witness

Stir It Up
Stir It Up
Stir It Up
Steve Biko

Stir It Up
Stir It Up
Stir It Up
Steve Biko

New York City represent, represent
A Tribe Called Quest represent, represent
The Dawg is scientific with the styles I invent
A Tribe Called Quest represent, represent

MCs like to meddle, but here's my proposition
I let my lyrics flow, and jumped your whole position
I'm radical with this like the man this song is after
Yo Tip settle down, what's the reason for the laughter?

I really can't say, I guess I laugh to keep from cryin'
So much goin' on, people killin', people dyin'
But I won't dwell on that, I think I'll elevate my mental
Thanks for these bars on the Biko instrumental

Yo I take it back, I'm the Indian giver
MCs take notes as I stand and deliver
Percussion isn't less, D's wear the vest
While they dodgin' bullets, you should be dodgin' Quest
Don't get me wrong, violence is not our forte
I just like to rhyme, kick the lyric skills like Pele
Tip educate 'em, my rhymes are strictly taboo
Fill em with some fantasies and I'll look out like Tattoo

Okay
I am recognizing that the voice inside my head
is urging me to be myself but never follow someone else
Because opinions are like voices
we all have a different kind
So just clean out all of your ears
these are my views and you will find that
we revolutionize over the kick and the snare
The ghetto vocalist is on a state-wide tear
Soon to be the continent and then the freakin' globe
There's room for it all as we mingle at the ball
We welcome competition cuz it doesn't make one lazy or worn
We gotta work hard, you know the damn card
Try to be the fattest is the level that we strive
Try to be the fattest also to stay alive

—A Tribe Called Quest / Steve Biko (Stir It Up)

Procrastination Tool #46758

Because I needed something else to help me NOT get my work done: TYPERACER

(I'm not sure that made sense.)

TYPERACER = Amazing. Love it.

And here's the deal about me.

I feel for her: Exposed. Kinda.

So, wait, writing about your personal life online can have a negative affect on your life? I've never heard of this happening before. Perhaps not starting one blog after another, revealing personal information about yourself and your relationships? Just a thought . . .

I know, write a New York Times Magazine article about how negative it all is. It'll help. It'll turn the tide. Really.

(Gawker commentators are already having a fucking field day . . . losers.)

It could be more if she learned to never expect

She was the girl with the string around her neck,
With the boy who could only give her less.
It could be more if she learned to never expect,
And now she's her and him and then a baby next.

The wedding bells won't ring, but she couldn't care less,
You exist, when you're living in a dream world.

He grew up drinking milk from the cow, from the farm.
He was the traitor's father's father's father.
His father made him go give back to his country.
He gave his both knees, his overseas to fight the disease.

It's spreading fast over maps and it don't look back,
When you're living in a dream world.

It is a lion's science fiction wings,
Just like a jolly dizzy for zero, one, three times
The size of the people that came before.

Me and you and what we'd do for money.
This greed and jealousy turn to need.
See, I'm a man with a plan to use my hands.
I'm touching yours, you're the girl who wanted more.
Now baby, the story has faded from love to lie.

The clover under your feet is shooting stars in the night.
The people under your feet are shooting stars in the night.
The people, all that you meet, they're living in a dream world.

—Rilo Kiley, Dreamworld

Shitty video capture but the performance is good:

God BLESS you!

You spend half your life trying to turn the other half around

Copper on the corner and he loaded two rounds
And I can't even get inside to talk you down
Peter, sweet baby, where'd you get that gun?
You spend half your life trying to turn the other half around

And I tried to come clean, but I guess it's no use
Your face is all over six o'clock news
They cleared the street and then they closed the schools
I can't even get inside

Did you lose your head when the farm went down?
Was is when your daddy died after he moved to town
And I know your momma calls you good for nothing
She says her baby is a failer and she don't want you calling

Peter, sweet baby, there's something I need to say to you
Gonna have your baby this coming June
We could get a little place down by Gilmour park
You could do a little time and save my broken heart

And I tried to come clean, but I guess it's no use
Copper when ahead and he just shot you through
Now you're lying dead on the avenue
And I can't feel my broken heart

—Kathleen Edwards / Six O'Clock News

You will shelter me, my love. And I will shelter you.

I guess you don't need it
I guess you don't want me to repeat it
But everything I have to give I'll give to you
It's not like we planned it
You tried to stay, but you could not stand it
To see me shut down slow
as though it was an easy thing to do
Listen when
All of this around us'll fall over
I tell you what we're gonna do
You will shelter me my love
And I will shelter you
I will shelter you
I left you heartbroken, but not until those very words were spoken
Has anybody ever made such a fool out of you
It's hard to believe it
Even as my eyes do see it
The very things that make you live are killing you
Listen when all of this around us'll fall over
I tell you what we're gonna do
You will shelter me my love
I will shelter you
Listen when
All of this around us'll fall over
I tell you what we're gonna do
Hey you will shelter me my love
I will shelter you
If you shelter me too
I will shelter you
I will shelter you

—Ray Lamontagne / Shelter

(Good God, this is a beautiful song. And a REALLY great version, no?(

Also excellent:

When you came to me with your bad dreams and your fears
It was easy to see that you'd been crying
Seems like everywhere you turn catastrophe it reigns
But who really profits from the dying
I could hold you in my arms
I could hold you forever
I could hold you in my arms
I could hold you in my arms forever

When you kissed my lips with my mouth so full of questions
It's my worried mind that you quiet
Place your hands on my face
Close my eyes and say
Love is a poor man's food
Don't prophesize
I could hold you in my arms
I could hold you forever
And I could hold you in my arms
I could hold you forever

So now we see how it is
This fist begets the spear
Weapons of war
Symptoms of madness
Don't let your eyes refuse to see
Don't let your ears refuse to hear
Or you ain't never going to shake this sense of sadness
I could hold you in my arms
I could hold on forever
And I could hold you in my arms
I could hold forever

—Ray Lamontagne / Hold You In My Arms

I'm not depressed.

. . . just in case that's what you were thinking after that last song posting. I just really, really don't want to go to the gym.

But I must because I'm starting to think the reps I've been doing with my wine glass aren't enough.

she will betray All that she loves

In the Lush Virginia hills
they kept her as long as they could
Cause they knew when the white brother found
white shell Beads wrapped around her
skin - a life giving river - Her body open
as will his hand
And with a "goodbye" there she goes

she may Betray
All that she loves
and even wait for
their Savior to come
And in some things,
maybe he'll be right
But as always
The thing that he Loves
he will change from her
sunwise to clockwise
to soul trading
still she'll lay down her Body
covering him all the same

so Hundreds of years go by
(the Red Road carved up by Sharp Knife)
She's a girl out working her Trade
and she loses a little each day
to ghetto pimps and presidents
who try and arouse her turquoise serpents
She can't recall what they represent
and when you ask, she won't know

she will Betray
All that she loves
and even wait for
their Savior to come
And in some things,
maybe he'll be right
But as always
The thing that he Loves
he will change from her
sunwise to clockwise
to soul trading
still she'll lay down her Body
covering him all the same

oh Virginia do you remember
when the Land held your hand
oh Virginia she will let you back in
oh Virginia you can't remember your name

—Tori Amos / Virginia

Eventually you just let the stone fall

Run away to the seashore.
It doesn't matter anymore
Doesn't matter anymore...
Words dry up and fly away
With the passing of the days
Eventually you just let the stone fall

I dreamed that I saw you
You were down at the corner store
You were looking through magazines
And you flew out the door
I was trying to wave to you but you wouldn't wave back
Now you know I understand you're with me only in the past.
Only in the past.
Only in the past.
Only in the past.

My palms are not open. They're closed, they're closed.
My palms are not open. They're closed, they're closed.

I dreamed that I saw you
You were down at the corner store
You were looking through magazines
And you flew out the door
I was trying to wave to you but you wouldn't wave back
Now you know I understand you're with me only in the past.
Only in the past.
Only in the past.
Only in the past.

Colours streak the sky.
We laugh and we cry
And we dance in the cool grass
With the fireflies
And we dance in the cool grass...sunset...
Birds sweet sweet music
Swallow our words.
You set sail and you left this town
Run away, run away.
You're so far,
So far from me now.
So far from me now.

I dreamed that I saw you
You were down at the corner store
You were looking through magazines
And you flew out the door
I was trying to wave to you but you wouldn't wave back
Now you know I understand you're with me only in the past.
Only in the past.
Only in the past.
Only in the past.

—Be Good Tanyas / Only in the Past

Wow, that blows.

Woman Arrested After 32 Years on Lam

foods, note.

I really need to start using Fresh Direct again. Their ice cream is $3.00 cheaper than at the grocery stores around me!

Amazing.

(Yes, this was a necessary mention.)

foods.

The fuckers at Edy’s have reduced the size of their ice cream containers. They’re now selling a 1.5 quart at a 1.75 quart price. What. The. Fuck?

Bastards.

Also, I think I have a peanut butter addiction. This is in addition to the existing ice cream, diet coke, and cheese addictions.

Good morning everyone!

Cause there ain't nobody who needs nobody

CMT Unplugged / Lori McKenna, Your Next Lover

So beautiful and sad.

Well, she lives a few doors down
Says she wants you to take her out
Have some coffee somewhere - just some coffee
You saw her out in the parking lot
And any plans you had you can break so wash your face - let yourself go

Everybody is a sinner
Everybody makes mistakes
And there ain't nobody - who needs nobody
Don't forget to look her in the eye
Laugh and show your smile
There's not much more to lonely than being less lonely

I stood and watched (all) the stars fade right there - from your eyes
Baby, I think I know just what your next lover will be like

You hate cigarettes so she won't smoke
But she don't mind this bar you're in
She sits right up there on that stool - puts her pocketbook down and smiles at you
You think she's about five foot three
That makes her taller than me
But you're not thinking about that now, no -it ain't right to think about that now

I stood and watched (all) the stars fade right there - from your eyes
Baby, I think I know just what your next lover will be like

And I hope she can fix you
I hope she's someone who will never let you down
I hope she reminds you nothing of me and - as crazy as crazy as it sounds I hope she's beautiful

I stood and watched (all) the stars fade right there - from your eyes
Baby, I think I know just what your next lover will be like

Cause there ain't nobody who needs nobody
There ain't nobody who needs nobody

—Lori McKenna / Your Next Lover

My, how time travels.

Since getting to work (an hour late), I have:

1. Checked out all the blogs (see list on right).
2. Checked my personal email (every 5 minutes).
3. Looked for and bought my Godmother's birthday gift (shipping from India to Scotland is a bit of a financial bitch, FYI).
4. Fucked up my blog, while updating my links, and had to reformat the damn thing. **shakes fist at blogger**
5. Jumped into email-chain with two lovely friends.
6. Followed through on two work-related email requests.
7. Solidified lunch plans -- eating outside, as it's gorgeous.
8. Written this UNBELIEVABLY ENTERTAINING blog post.

I might just be the busiest person in the world. That's right . . . the world.

we generate our own light to compensate for the lack of light from above.

growing up, it was just me and my mom against the world.
and all my sympathies were with her when i was a little girl
and i've seen both my parents play out the hands that they were dealt
as each year goes by, i know more about how my father must have felt.

i just want you to understand that i know what all the fighting
was for, and i just want you to understand that i'm not angry anymore.
no, i'm not angry anymore.

she taught me how to wage cold war with quiet charm
but i just want to walk through my life unarmed.
to accept, and just get by like my father learned to do,
but without all the acceptance of getting by that got my father through

i just want you to understand that i know what all the fighting was for
and i just want you to understand that i'm not angry anymore.
no, i'm not angry anymore.

night falls like people into love
we generate our own light to compensate
for the lack of light from above.
every time we fight a cold wind blows our way,
we can learn like the trees, how to bend,
how to sway and say

i, i think i understand
what all this fighting is for,
and i just want you to understand
i'm not angry anymore.
no, i'm not angry anymore.

—ani difranco / angry anymore


I actually used the quite lovely banjo intro to this song in a multimedia presentation I gave in college . . . on HVAC systems. That's right. I might just be the coolest person ever. Well-rounded, too. Totally well-rounded. And I'm not just talking about my caboose! . . . da da ching!

Look, it's the end of the day, I'm tired . . . I'm hungry . . . I have no excuse.

How could I ever believe 10,000 stones would save the fool in me

My days are filled with mistakes
Some that I didn't make
I carry them around
Some people don't feel a thing
Some kind of blissful dream
Wish I could live that now
oh I wish I could live that now

10,000 stones are hanging
deep in my heart
no I don't know how they
don't tear me apart
how could I ever believe
10,000 stones would build
the best of me.

I've seen a lot in my life
I've seen two wrongs make a right
When everything was crashing
I know that you got your plans
You're always taking your stand
But I was only asking
I was never asking for

10,000 stones are hanging
deep in my heart
no I don't know how they
don't tear me apart
how could I ever believe
10,000 stones would build
the best of me.

Who knows what you think of me now
knowing sooner or later
the truth would come out
but I don't want to look back
don't want to look back to

10,000 stones hanging deep in my heart
no I don't know how they don't tear me apart
how could I ever believe
10,000 stones would save the fool in me
10,000 stones would be a strange blessing
10,000 stones would build the best of me

—Adrianne / 10,000 Stones

Um, Cris . . . Ben again. Benjamin. I'm skeered.

Sweet Jesus, this looks terrifying.

I've gathered these pages of words left unspoken

Oh, there you are,
it's so good to see you,
it's so good to see you,
standing right at my door,
I wish you could stay.

Well, how's your girlfriend?
How's that going?
She never liked me,
oh I wish you could stay.

It might be an ordinary day,
but it seems like more than that to me...

Lines of my forehead,
from trying to thread the needle of this idea,
without letting you know it.

If you said I could
I'd throw the maps right out the window,
take the longest way home.

So I change the subject
and I put on my best smile,
so you won't notice,
so you won't notice what's wrong.

So don't you ask me,
no please don't ask me,
'cause I don't dare tell you,
exactly what's on my mind.

It might be an ordinary day,
but it seems like more than that to me...

I've gathered these pages
of words left unspoken,
letters I didn't send you
would fall right from my fingers.

If you said I could
put my hands where I want to,
set fire to the bedroom.

If you said I could
put it all out on the table,
throw the maps right out the window...

Oh there you are,
it's so good to see you,
it's so good to see you,
I wish you could stay.

—Chris Pureka, These Pages

Cristina! Benjamin!! It's BENJAAAAMMIIIIINNNNN!

Willem Dafoe AND Scott Speedman?? I think my heart just stopped.

Must. Go. See.

I put our snowflake under a microscope

Strange
Thought I knew you well
Thought I had read the sky
Thought I had read a change
in your eyes
so strange
Woke up to a world
that I am not a part
except when I can play
its stranger

After all
what were you really
looking for
and I wonder
when will I learn
Blue isn't red
everybody knows this
and I wonder
when will I learn
when will I learn
guess I was in Deeper than
I thought I was
if I have enough love
for the both of us

"just stay" you say
"we'll build a nest"
so I left my Life
Tried on your friends
Tried on your opinions
So when the Bridges froze
and you did not come home
I put our snowflake under a microscope

After all
what was I really
looking for
and I wonder
when will I learn
Maybe my wish knew better
than I did
and I wonder
when will I learn
when will I learn
guess I was in Deeper than
I thought I was
if I have enough love
for the both of us

so strange
now I'm finally in
the Party has begun
it's not like I can't
feel you still
but strange
what I will leave behind
you call me one more time
but now I must be leaving

—Tori Amos / Strange


I love this song. It's so clear.

Because there is nothing any sadder than losing yourself in love.

Leaves were falling, just like embers,
In colors red and gold, they set us on fire
Burning just like moonbeams in our eyes.

Somebody said they saw me, swinging the world by the tail
Bouncing over a white cloud, killing the blues.

Now I'm guilty of something...
I hope you never do
Because there is nothing
Any sadder than losing yourself in love.

Somebody said they saw me, swinging the world by the tail
Bouncing over a white cloud, killing the blues.

And then you've ask me... just to leave you
To set out on my own
And get what I needed.
You want me to find what I've already had.

Somebody said they saw me, swinging the world by the tail
Bouncing over a white cloud, killing the blues.

Somebody said they saw me, swinging the world by the tail
Bouncing over a white cloud, killing the blues.

—Rowland Salley, Killing the Blues


FYI: Robert Plant and Alison Krauss do a lovely cover of this song on the Raising Sand album.

This. Would. Blow.

Excerpt from New Yorker piece:
UP AND THEN DOWN: The lives of elevators.
by Nick Paumgarten

The longest smoke break of Nicholas White’s life began at around eleven o’clock on a Friday night in October, 1999. White, a thirty-four-year-old production manager at Business Week, working late on a special supplement, had just watched the Braves beat the Mets on a television in the office pantry. Now he wanted a cigarette. He told a colleague he’d be right back and, leaving behind his jacket, headed downstairs.

The magazine’s offices were on the forty-third floor of the McGraw-Hill Building, an unadorned tower added to Rockefeller Center in 1972. When White finished his cigarette, he returned to the lobby and, waved along by a janitor buffing the terrazzo floors, got into Car No. 30 and pressed the button marked 43. The car accelerated. It was an express elevator, with no stops below the thirty-ninth floor, and the building was deserted. But after a moment White felt a jolt. The lights went out and immediately flashed on again. And then the elevator stopped.

The control panel made a beep, and White waited a moment, expecting a voice to offer information or instructions. None came. He pressed the intercom button, but there was no response. He hit it again, and then began pacing around the elevator. After a time, he pressed the emergency button, setting off an alarm bell, mounted on the roof of the elevator car, but he could tell that its range was limited. Still, he rang it a few more times and eventually pulled the button out, so that the alarm was continuous. Some time passed, although he was not sure how much, because he had no watch or cell phone. He occupied himself with thoughts of remaining calm and decided that he’d better not do anything drastic, because, whatever the malfunction, he thought it unwise to jostle the car, and because he wanted to be (as he thought, chuckling to himself) a model trapped employee. He hoped, once someone came to get him, to appear calm and collected. He did not want to be scolded for endangering himself or harming company property. Nor did he want to be caught smoking, should the doors suddenly open, so he didn’t touch his cigarettes. He still had three, plus two Rolaids, which he worried might dehydrate him, so he left them alone. As the emergency bell rang and rang, he began to fear that it might somehow—electricity? friction? heat?—start a fire. Recently, there had been a small fire in the building, rendering the elevators unusable. The Business Week staff had walked down forty-three stories. He also began hearing unlikely oscillations in the ringing: aural hallucinations. Before long, he began to contemplate death.


Nicholas White opened the doors to urinate. As he did so, he hoped, in vain, that a trace of this violation might get the attention of someone in the lobby. He considered lighting matches and dropping them down the shaft, to attract notice, but still had the presence of mind to suspect that this might not be wise. The alarm bell kept ringing. He paced and waved at the overhead camera. He couldn’t tell whether it was night or day. To pass the time, he opened his wallet and compared an old twenty-dollar bill with a new one, and read the fine print on the back of a pair of tickets to a Jets game on Sunday afternoon, which he would never get to use. He imagined himself as Steve McQueen in “The Great Escape,” throwing the baseball against the wall.

Eventually, he lay down on the floor, intent on sleep. The carpet was like coarse AstroTurf, and was lousy with nail trimmings and other detritus. It was amazing to him how much people could shed in such a short trip. He used his shoes for a pillow and laid his wallet, unfolded, over his eyes to keep out the light. It wasn’t hot, yet he was sweating. His wallet was damp. Maybe a day had passed. He drifted in and out of sleep, awakening each time to the grim recognition that his elevator confinement had not been a dream. His thirst was overpowering. The alarm was playing more aural tricks on him, so he decided to turn it off. Then he tried doing some Morse code with it. He yelled some more. He tried to pick away at the cinder-block wall.

At a certain point, he decided to go for the escape hatch in the ceiling. He thought of Bruce Willis in “Die Hard,” climbing up and down the shaft. He knew it was a dangerous and desperate thing to do, but he didn’t care. He had to get out of the elevator. The height of the handrail in the car made it hard for him to get a leg up. It took him a while to figure out and then execute the maneuver that would allow him to spring up to the escape hatch. Finally, he swung himself up. The hatch was locked.


At a certain point, Nicholas White ran out of ideas. Anger and vindictiveness took root. He began to think, They, whoever they were, shouldn’t be able to get away with this, that he deserved some compensation for the ordeal. He cast about for blame. He wondered where his colleague was, why she hadn’t been alarmed enough by his failure to return, jacketless, from smoking a cigarette to call security. Whose fault is this? he wondered. Who’s going to pay? He decided that there was no way he was going to work the following week.

And then he gave up. The time passed in a kind of degraded fever dream. On the videotape, he lies motionless for hours at a time, face down on the floor.
A voice woke him up: “Is there someone in there?”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing in there?”

White tried to explain; the voice in the intercom seemed to assume that he was an intruder. “Get me the fuck out of here!” White shrieked. Duly persuaded, the guard asked him if he wanted anything. White, who had been planning to join a few friends at a bar on Friday evening, asked for a beer.

Before long, an elevator-maintenance team arrived and, over the intercom, coached him through a set of maneuvers with the buttons. White asked what day it was, and, when they told him it was Sunday at 4 P.M., he was shocked. He had been trapped for forty-one hours. He felt a change in the breeze, which suggested that the elevator was moving. When he felt it slow again, he wrenched the door open, and there was the lobby. In his memory, he had to climb up onto the landing, but the video does not corroborate this. When he emerged from the elevator, he saw his friends, with a couple of security guards, and a maintenance man, waiting, with an empty chair. His friends turned to see him and were appalled at the sight; he looked like a ghost, one of them said later. The security guard handed him an open Heineken. He took one sip but found the beer repellent, like Hans Castorp with his Maria Mancini cigar. White told a guard, “Somebody could’ve died in there.”

“I know,” the guard said.

White had to go upstairs to get his jacket. He demanded that the guards come with him, and so they rode together on the service elevator, with the elevator operator. The presence of others with radios put him at ease. In his office he found that his co-worker, in a fit of pique over his disappearance, had written an angry screed, and taped it to his computer screen, for all their colleagues to see. He went home, and then headed to a bar. He woke up to a reel of phone messages and a horde of reporters colonizing his stoop. He barely left his apartment in the ensuing days, deputizing his friends to talk to reporters through a crack in the door.

White never went back to work at the magazine. Caught up in media attention (which he shunned but thrilled to), prodded by friends, and perhaps provoked by overly solicitous overtures from McGraw-Hill, White fell under the sway of renown and grievance, and then that of the legal establishment. He got a lawyer, and came to believe that returning to work might signal a degree of mental fitness detrimental to litigation. Instead, he spent eight weeks in Anguilla. Eventually, Business Week had to let him go. The lawsuit he filed, for twenty-five million dollars, against the building’s management and the elevator-maintenance company, took four years. They settled for an amount that White is not allowed to disclose, but he will not contest that it was a low number, hardly six figures. He never learned why the elevator stopped; there was talk of a power dip, but nothing definite. Meanwhile, White no longer had his job, which he’d held for fifteen years, and lost all contact with his former colleagues. He lost his apartment, spent all his money, and searched, mostly in vain, for paying work. He is currently unemployed.

Looking back on the experience now, with a peculiarly melancholic kind of bewilderment, he recognizes that he walked onto an elevator one night, with his life in one kind of shape, and emerged from it with his life in another. Still, he now sees that it wasn’t so much the elevator that changed him as his reaction to it. He has come to terms with the trauma of the experience but not with his decision to pursue a lawsuit instead of returning to work. If anything, it prolonged the entrapment. He won’t blame the elevator.

Tonight! In concert! 7:30! Yay!

Such a crime
I don’t remember being taken
This love was meant for
Wandering eyes and fakin’
So hot the way you looking
And when he’s on it, man he’s running and he’s booking

Didn’t know what to think in the beginning
But you got me so wet
And then you left me swimming
Keep it coming with the love I can’t resist
I’m so tired but don’t you dare quit

Cause it’s a lie, it’s a crime and it’s just something
That I can’t deny but
You know it looks so good from the outside
It’s a mistake that I’m willing to make
And a promise that I just might break but
Gotta find out how much my heart can take

From the moment I met you
I knew this love was bound to get you
Well I know I know I know you’re weak that way
Looking out the window and it’s only the beginning
People are talking
And my ears start ringing
But I don’t care what they say
Cause they’ll never know me anyway

Cause it’s a lie, it’s a crime and it’s just something
That I can’t deny but
You know it looks so good from the outside
It’s a mistake that I’m willing to make
And a promise that I just might break
Gotta find out how much my heart can take

And I know what he wants
And I know what he needs
I got the type of love
That’s gonna bring you right down to your knees

Bring you right down to your knees
I’m begging you oh please
I want to be the lover
For your cover
How could you deny
This love so great
Love so grand
If you don’t understand
That this love will take you make you
It’ll mess you maybe break you
But it’ll leave you stronger in the end
And I guess it all depends

Cause it’s a lie, it’s a crime, and it’s just something that I can’t deny
You know it looks so good from the outside
It’s a mistake that I’m willing to make
And a promise that I just might break but
Gotta find out how much my heart can take
Now I’m beggin ya please . . .

—Tristan Prettyman / Please

mmmmmm

Your laughter's still ringing in my ears

I drink good coffee every morning
Comes from a place that's far away
And when I'm done I feel like talking
Without you here there is less to say
I don't want you thinking I'm unhappy
What is closer to the truth
That if I lived till I was 102
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
I'm no longer moved to drink strong whisky
'Cause I shook the hand of time and I knew
That if I lived till I could no longer climb my stairs
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
Your face it dances and it haunts me
Your laughter's still ringing in my ears
I still find pieces of your presence here
Even after all these years
But I don't want you thinking I don't get asked to dinner
'Cause I'm here to say that I sometimes do
Even though I may soon feel the touch of love
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
If I lived till I was 102
I just don't think I'll ever get over you

—Colin Hay / I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You

Adore. This. Song.

great songs, great artists, strange videos . . .

Dammit.

You know how music has the ability to take you back in time? You know how you can mark certain moments, situations, period of times with a song, musician, album?

Well, fuck fuck fuckity fuck that.

So, yeah . . . that sometimes blows.

Only things worth living for are Innocence and magic, amen

Take this silver lining
Keep it in your own
Sweet head
And shine it when the night is
Burning red
Shine it in the twilight
Shine it on the cold, cold ground
Shine it till these walls
Come tumbling down

We were born with our eyes wide open
So alive with wild hope now
Can you tell me why
Time after time they drag you down
Down in the darkest deep
Fools and their madness all around
Know that the light don't sleep

Step into the silence
Take it in your own
Two hands
And scatter it like diamonds
All across these lands
Blaze it in the morning
Wear it like an iron skin
Only things worth living for are
Innocence and magic, amen

We were born with our eyes wide open
So alive with wild hope now
Can you tell me why
Time after time they drag you down
Down in the darkest deep
Fools and their madness all around
Know that the light don't sleep

We were born with our eyes wide open
So alive with wild hope now
Can you tell me why
Time after time they drag you down
Down in the talk so cheap
Fools and their madness all around
Know that the light don't sleep
Know that the light don't sleep

Time after time
They drag you down
Down in the darkness deep
Fools in their madness all around
Know that the light don't sleep
Know that the light don't sleep

—David Gray / Silver Lining

Yum in my Tum.

I'm pretty sure this isn't part of the Must-Lose-10-Pounds-By-UK-Trip BUT in it goes . . .

Muggins' Tummy = Happy Little Pudgy Camper

And I have all of my things that I shouldn't do over again

It's Monday afternoon and I'm drinking again
And I know I promised you that the Lord would be my friend
But the Lord and I don't get along so very good
He doesn't speak a word out to me
Like you promised that he would
And I'm telling you
I wish I was a better person

When the clouds roll in and the sky promises rain
You just accept the way she is and you don't even complain
Though you wish that it was sunny and the sky would stay blue
You don't accept a thing about me
And wish that I was just like you
But I'm telling you
I wish I was a better person

I don't want to work at it
It should come naturally
It shouldn't be so difficult
Should be more like honey to the bee

Well the bee has his sting and the sky has her rain
And I have all of my things that I shouldn't do over again
But if I just say the words and I look you in the eye
That I am promising you, I promise
I wish I was a better person

I don't want to work at it
It should come naturally
It shouldn't be so difficult
Should be more like honey to the bee

Well it's Monday afternoon and I'm drinking again
And I know I promised you that the Lord would be my friend
But the Lord and I don't get along so very good
He doesn't speak a word out to me
Like you promised that he would
And I'm telling you
I am telling you
I am telling you
I wish I was a better person
A better person
A better person
A better person

—Lori McKenna, Monday Afternoon

Lovely.

This is the nicest website I've seen in a long time. It's really beautifully done. I'm emailing the Webmaster and letting him/her know that they rock.

KathleenEdwards.com

you were never anything but beautiful to me . . . which means i've been thinking of you all along

some crazy fucker carved a sculpture out of butter
and propped it up in the middle of the bonanza breakfast bar
and i am stuffing toast and sausage into my pockets
under a sign that says grand opening
while my dog is waiting in the car

i wake up, i check out
i fill the tank and wash the windshield clean
then i'm back out on the highway
and BANG that's when i remember my dream:

we were standing in a garden
and i had a machine that made silence
it just sucked up the whole opinionated din
and there were no people on the payroll
and there were no monkeys on our backs
and i said, show me what you look like
without skin

science chases money
and money chases its tail
and the best minds of my generation
can't make bail
but the bacteria are coming to take us down
that's my prediction
it's the answer to this culture
of the quick fix prescription

but in the garden of simple
where all of us are nameless
you were never anything but beautiful to me
they never really owned you
you just carried them around you
and then one day you put 'em down
and found your hands were free

so now it's early in the morning
at the longitude of memphis
and the sun is setting sweetly on hong kong
and the big plan is just to keep spinning
cuz the big bang is only just beginning
and sometimes it's all that we can do just to hang on

and what i meant to say is muah which means i'm thinking of ya
which means i've been thinking of you
all along

—ani difranco / garden of simple

Dumplings and beer.

I had a pretty vivid dream last night. I was with my older sister and we were at the beach. We were told a tsunami was coming. There were HUGE waves. We scrambled to leave and on the way to safer ground, Sarah insisted we stop to get:
1. Dumplings
2. Beer
3. Ice cream
4. A couple books

I was pretty worried that there wasn’t time to stop, but we did. I dropped a beer on the way out and had to run towards the waves to collect it. I grabbed it and ran back to her. We crossed a NYC street, on our way to my apartment. And we were happy and laughing.

What in the HELL does any of that mean?

(I’m pretty sure I’ve only had dumplings once in my life.)

Interesting.

What Makes Annie Shoot?

And for a while she forgot his sins

Lejos and Mary
Lay dazed in Liula
Dreaming of tropical signs
As Lejos lay sleeping
She knelt over him weeping
Feeling the weight of his crimes
It seems he cut a man down in a Tennessee town
And he's just licking his wounds for a spell
But it won't take long for the boys to catch on
And soon he'll be running like hell
Run Lejos run
This ain't no time for that ball and chain
Run Lejos run
Climb on that pony and ride like you never done
Ride like you never done
Well their love it was long
It was gentle and strong
And for a while she forgot his sins
And she kissed him for love
She kissed him for luck
She kissed him one time for a kid
Well they came in without a warning in the hours before morning
They come-a blasting through the windows and walls
And when the smoke it did clear
somebody cried out he ain't here
Killed ourselves a woman that's all
Run Lejos run
This ain't no time for that ball and chain
Run Lejos run
Climb on that pony and ride like you never done
Ride like you never done

—Ray Lamontagne, Narrow Escape

A one-person crusade.

Man, this makes me so sad.

Dith Pran, Photojournalist and Survivor of the Killing Fields, Dies at 65

I'm too proud to beg for your attention and your friendship and your time

And interesting sound check version:




Everything I do surrounds these pieces of my life that often change
Or maybe I've changed
Sometimes seeming happy can be self destructive even when you're sane
Or only insane
But don't bother waking me today

Here I am
I'm so young
I know I've been bitter, I've been jaded, I'm alone
Every day I'll bite my tongue
If you only knew my mind was full of razors
That cuts you like a word if only sung...
But this is my song
It is my song

Now I live every day like there will never be a last one till they're gone
And they're gone
I'm too proud to beg for your attention and your friendship and your time
So you can come and get it from now on

Here I am
I'm so young
I know I've been bitter, I've been jaded, I'm alone
Every day I'll bite my tongue
If you only knew my mind was full of razors
That cuts you like a word if only sung...
But this is my song
It is my song

And it's you
It is you

Here I am
I'm so young
I know I've been bitter, I've been jaded, I'm alone
Every day I'll bite my tongue
If you only knew my mind was full of razors
I'm not sure I can take it
I'm nothing strong to hold to
I'll wait to only hate you
My mind is full of razors
That cuts you like a word if only sung
But this is my song

—Brandi Carlile / My Song

A song for every one of us

This is the sound of one voice
One spirit, one voice
The sound of one who makes a choice
This is the sound of one voice

This is the sound of voices two
The sound of me singing with you
Helping each other to make it through
This is the sound of voices two

This is the sound of voices three
Singing together in harmony
Surrendering to the mystery
This is the sound of voices three

This is the sound of all of us
Singing with love and the will to trust
Leave the rest behind it will turn to dust
This is the sound of all of us

This is the sound of one voice
One people, one voice
A song for every one of us
This is the sound of one voice
This is the sound of one voice

—Wailin' Jennys / One Voice

I feel dizzy.

Six of the Fallen, in Words They Sent Home

Bunnies are awesome.

But sometimes we forget who we got — Who they are and who they are not

Well I walked over the bridge
Into the city where I live and I saw my old landlord
Well we both said hello
There was no where else to go
Cause his rent I couldn’t afford

Well relationships change
Though I think it’s kind of strange how money makes a man grow
Ah, some people they claim if you get enough fame
You live over the rainbow
Over the rainbow
But the people on the street,
Out on buses or on feet
We all got the same blood flow

Oh in society every dollar got a deed
We all need a place that we can go and feel over the rainbow

Some times we forget what we got
And who we are and who we are not
I think we got a chance to make it right
Keep it loose
Keep it tight
Keep it tight

I’m in love with a girl who’s in love with the world
Though I can’t help but follow
Though I know someday she is bound to go away and stay over the rainbow
Got to learn how to let her go
Over the rainbow

But sometimes we forget who we got
Who they are and who they are not

There is so much more in love than black and white
Keep it loose child
You gotta keep tight
Keep it loose child
Keep it tight
Keep it tight
Keep it tight

—Amos Lee / Keep It Loose, Keep It Tight

Seriously, dude.

If you have the opportunity to run up or down one, two, or even three flights of stairs, PLEASE don't take the elevator. Seriously. ESPECIALLY if it's just one flight.

I work with some lazy pieces of shoe . . .

I hate hate hate hate

. . . the dentist. Hate.

Hate.

Wah.

I'm feeling very unenthusiastic about today. Got a very LATE start. Have crappy-ass dentist appointment. Must finish up a redesign for work. Don't want to go to the gym after work, but that would go against Healthy Mug 2008 Rule #2 of "Go to damn gym, Pudgy McPudgso.

Wah, again.

I do not need a big house or the ability to fly

They're building up big houses
Back behind the school
Where we used to drink our beer on Friday nights
And pretend that we were lovers in your car

We can't afford to live there
So we drive on past their marble and glass
Hoping that this blue collar town of ours
Won't ever lose its balls

I was just a little girl
When your hand brushed by my hand
And I will be an old woman
Happy to have spent my whole life with one man

Behind that school we found romance
We laid in the dirt and took off our shirts
While the lucky ones would fly away
On planes to other cities, other towns

Now they're building up houses
Big enough to lose your love
Big enough to never even see
One another in the dark

One man, one town is all I need
A simple plan to guide me
Through the simple life I lead
I have seen the ocean and I have seen the sky
I do not need a big house or the ability to fly

We'll remember the summers
The crumbling town streets, running from police
And acting like we'd leave this place
The minute we ever had the chance

—Lori McKenna / One Man

whoop whoop

I just couldn't be more excited about tonight.

The Riches is back!!

Pretty cool.

No idea how my Mum found this site, but it's pretty cool . . .

http://producten.hema.nl/

Anyone want to translate this for moi?

She’s obvious despite herself

Jodie wears a hat although it hasn’t rained for six days
She says a girl needs a gun these days
Hey on account of all the rattlesnakes
She looks like Eve Marie Saint in On the Waterfront
She reads Simone de Beauvoir in her American circumstance
She’s less than sure if her heart has come to stay in San Jose
And her neverborn child still haunts her now
As she speeds down the freeway
As she tries her luck with the traffic police
Out of boredom more than spite
She never finds no trouble, she tries too hard
She’s obvious despite herself
She looks like Eve Marie Saint in On the Waterfront
She says all she needs is therapy
All you need is love is all you need
Jodie never sleeps ‘cause there are always needles in the hay
She says that a girl needs a gun these days
Hey on account of all the rattlesnakes
Hey on account of all the rattlesnakes
She looks like Eve Marie Saint in On the Waterfront
As she reads Simone de Beauvoir in her American circumstance
Her heart, heart’s like crazy paving
Upside down and back to front
She says ooh, it’s so hard to love
When love was your great disappointment

Count those rattlesnakes
She says a girl needs a gun these days
On account of all the rattlesnakes
Hey on account of all the rattlesnakes

—Lloyd Cole / Rattlesnakes

one two one two one two . . .

OK, so, Healthy Mug 2008 hasn't gotten off to the winning start I hoped it would. Yet, I shall persevere . . . despite the scone (the size of my head) I just stuffed down my gullet. I've brought my gym bag to work and I will see if I can remember the way there tonight.

H.M.2008 Rule #1:
Wake up earlier, in order to enjoy a healthy breakfast before leaving for work.

I hope to avoid eating cake for breakfast in the future.

FYI

I fucking hate parades.

Shadow dancing in the pouring rain

Mmmmmm mmmmmm
Ohhhh ooohhh yea
Sitting here thinking
Damn I'm getting a little older
Trying to find some piece of mind
Take the weight of the world off my shoulders
mmmm got me driving down the highway
Trying to make it through each and every day
Fade to black 'n all poverty
Take a truck and move my people down south with me

Take my ball and chain and for a ticket
On a one way trip into Georgia
Big smiles, apple pies, my people, and blue skies
Tomatoes grow where I can pick em'
On an open highway through Georgia
Green grass, tear stains, shadow dancing in the pouring rain

Sitting here looking in the mirror
Damn it's getting a little clearer
If I could paint a perfect picture
Would u dare take it wit ya, take it wit ya, take it wit ya
Picture us whistling while fishing
Picture us dancing while romancing
To a tune that belongs to me and you
My ball and chain we will all be free yea

Take my ball and chain and for a ticket
On a one way trip into Georgia
Big smiles, apple pies, my people, and blue skies
Tomatoes grow where I can pick em'
On an open highway through Georgia
Green grass, tear stains, shadow dancing in the pouring rain

We can be dancing, steady romancing
Whisteling, while we steady fishing
Yea, yeah, oooh, oooooooh
Oooooooh, yeah

Take my ball and chain and for a ticket
On a one way trip into Georgia
Big smiles, apple pies, my people, and blue skies
Tomatoes grow where I can pick em'
On an open highway through Georgia
Green grass, tear stains, shadow dancing in the pouring rain

—Anthony Hamilton, Ball And Chain

Dreaming.

As soon as my eyes shut the slide show begins
Yesterday is gone now and panic sets in
With a weight upon my chest
and a ghost upon my back
And the numbing sensation of everything
I lack that leaves me
Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming,
Your real world away

Only beautiful, beautiful bright eyes, lie
Only beautiful, beautiful bright eyes cry
Late morning lullaby

The first sign of morning is gray and alarming
It's so disappointing the day has come so soon
While the rest of the world greets the day and feels new
I will push it away just like I always do, I will be
Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming,
Your real world away

Only beautiful, beautiful bright eyes, lie
Only beautiful, beautiful bright eyes cry
Late morning lullaby
Late morning lullaby

I would darken my window so I can fall asleep
While the critics frown down on the hours
I keep that leave me
Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming,
Your real world away

—Brandi Carlile, Late Morning Lullaby

And complacency's a curse

I'm going to dress up tonight
And I'll look real pretty for I don't know who
I'll find my own way around this great big city
And I'm gonna sit at a bar and I'll have a drink

I'll leave you to revel in your youthful yearnings
I know you like to visit them from time to time
And like a thief I steal the words you write to her
I take them to my heart and I wish them to be mine

But this is nothing new
But it ain't nothing
Well this is nothing new
But it ain't nothing

You long for sweetness
Does mine make you sickly
Or maybe I no longer have the sweetness you require
There's nothing sweet about a heart so embittered
It's ugly and it's cold and tonight it's out for hire

But it ain't nothing new
But this ain't nothing
Well this is nothing new
But it ain't nothing

We live through this day after day
And complacency's a curse
But you just can't escape it
And I've arrived at that place where my tolerance gave way
And I struggle to hold my head up high

But it ain't nothing new
Well this is nothing new
But it ain't nothing

—The Waifs, Nothing New

I believe in the kingdom come - Then all the colors will bleed into one

I have climbed highest mountain
I have run through the fields
Only to be with you
Only to be with you

I have run
I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls
These city walls
Only to be with you

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

I have kissed honey lips
Felt the healing in her fingertips
It burned like fire
This burning desire

I have spoke with the tongue of angels
I have held the hand of a devil
It was warm in the night
I was cold as a stone

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

I believe in the kingdom come
Then all the colors will bleed into one
Bleed into one
Well yes I'm still running

You broke the bonds and you
Loosed the chains
Carried the cross
Of my shame
Of my shame
You know I believed it

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for...

—U2 / I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

Good morning.

My Mum sent me this article this morning, over email. Thought I might be interested.

What the hell?

Boyfriend: Woman Lived in Bathroom

Intriguing, no?

Rosebush Inside (Morees Bickham) / Sean Hayes

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEETIE-PIE!

Love, Dodo

Do these people really exist?

First off . . .

Says Glamour:
Glamour Fires Male Blogger After Readers ‘Pulverize’ Him

Says Douchebag:
Fired Glamour Blogger: "I've Never Claimed to be a Saint"

Douchebag's doomed blog post

Says Chick In Need of Bigger Jacktard Detector:
"What a Fucking Idiot"

Between reading all of THAT this morning and watching the first episodes of "The Real Housewives of New York" last night, I'm certain of the following:

People are fucking nuts.

I'll switch albums soon. Don't worry.

I want to wake up and know where I'm going
Say I'm ready
Say I'm ready
I want to go where the rivers are overflowing and

I'll be ready
I'll be ready
I'm ready to let the rivers wash over me
I'm ready to let the rivers wash over me

If it's love flowin' freely
I'm ready
I'm ready
If the waters can redeem me
I'm ready
I'm ready

I'm ready to let the rivers wash over me
I'm ready to let the rivers wash over me

I want to wake up
I want to know where I'm going
I want to go where the rivers are over-flowing
I'm ready to let the rivers wash over me
I'm ready to let the rivers wash over me
I'm ready
I'm ready . . .

—Tracy Chapman, I'm Ready

It was just a smoldering fire I mistook for a blaze

I'd heard rumors and I'd heard talk
About the trail you'd left of broken hearts
About the sea of tears too wide to cross
But a little bad press has never scared me off
So I burned a path to figure out
How to get me some of what you got

I've got a red hot heart
If the talk is true your's is the same
And we should be together
And let our passions fan love's flame

When I looked for you I almost passed you by
You were so cool and calm
I thought my friends had lied
But I thought so much reserve must make you wild inside
It was there and then that I knew
I had to get some of what you got

I've got a red hot heart
If the talk is true your's is the same
And we should be together
And let our passions fan love's flame

I thought I'd won your heart when I held you hand in mine
I thought it was true love the way we complemented each other
But my right is your wrong
And when you're right then I'm left with nothing
Your light and your heat have all been spent
Leaving only smoke and ashes
Only smoke and ashes baby

I've got a red hot heart
And your heart's as blue as the blood in your veins
I say there's fire down below
You say it's only smoke and ashes baby

I'm crying all the time
Salty stinging tears
And mourning for the past carbon-dated years
But knowing now for certain that you were always right
Because if a breeze could blow you out of my life
It's only smoke and ashes baby
Only smoke and ashes baby

I've got a red hot heart
And your heart's as blue as the blood in your veins
I say there's fire down below
You say it's only smoke and ashes baby

I was blinded by devotion
My unwavering love for you
So blinded that I thought all your lies were true
But now I know for certain since you've gone away
It was just a smoldering fire I mistook for a blaze
Only smoke and ashes baby

I've got a red hot heart
And your heart's as blue as the blood in your veins
I say there's fire down below
You say it's only smoke and ashes baby
Only smoke and ashes baby, baby ...

—Tracy Chapman,Smoke And Ashes

Bee-u-t-ful

I'm having a Tracy Chapman moment of late. Have always loved this song.



(Wish I could have found her playing it live instead of this lame-ass picture crap that everyone seems to be posting nowadays. Ah well. You gets the points.)

What an effing train wreck.

SXSWi '08: Liveblogging the Failed Interview of Facebook Founder Mark Zuckerberg

pretty.

I miss you so much, I can't stand it
Seems like my heart, is breaking in two
My head says no but my soul demands it
Everything I do, reminds me of you

I miss you so much, in this house full of shadows
While the rain keeps pouring down, my window too
When will the pain, recede to the darkness
From whence it has come, and I'm feeling so blue

Ain't goin' down, no more to the well
Sometimes it feels like, I'm going to hell
Sometimes I'm knocking, on your front door
But I don't have nothing, to sell no more

Seems like the spirit, is pushing me onwards
I'm able to see, where I tripped and went wrong
I'll just have to guess, where my soul will find comfort
And I miss you so much, when I'm singing my song

Ain't goin down, no more to the well
And sometimes it seems, I'm going to hell
You'll find me knocking, on your front door
But I don't have nothing, to sell no more

Seems like my spirit, is pushing me onwards
til I'm able to see where, I tripped when I went wrong
I'll just have to guess, where my soul will get comfort
I miss you so much, when I'm singing my song

I miss you so much, I can't stand it
Seems like my heart is breaking in two
My head says no, but my soul demands it
And everything I do, reminds me of you
Everything I do, reminds me of you
Everything I do, reminds me of you

— Van Morrison / Reminds Me of You

Obsessed. With. Song.

Well I never won you over,
I just caught you on a good day...
We were laughing in the back
of an old city taxi,
with no mention of my borrowed time,
just the glow of the whiskey
and the holiday lights.

Well there's no need to name this,
because we're just going to call it a day...
so you can run out in the front yard
and wave goodbye to the plane...

But I remember the corner,
the bar and the moment
that I came un-tethered and fell,
into that scene from my favorite movie,
yeah you know the one...

Well, I'll tell you what,
I'll save you the trouble of running away.
yeah I'll tell you what,
I'll save you the trouble of running away,
yeah I'm already gone out the door
and I stole this moment for me,
this moment for me....

Well you're no kind of contrast
to all my somber ways,
we may as well have a picnic darlin'
out in the driving, pouring rain,
but I'll just carry on,
pretend that's just how I'm inclined.
So you better grab a hold of something,
steady, steady, 'cause I'm cutting the line...

But I remember your shoulder,
your breath and the moment,
that I came un-tethered and danced,
into that dream, the one where you kiss me
and then the camera flashed...

Well, I'll tell you what,
I'll save you the trouble of running away.
Yeah I'll tell you what,
I'll save you the trouble of running away,
yeah I'm already gone out the door
and I stole this moment for me,
this moment for me, this moment for me,
indelible and bright....

—Chris Pureka / Momentary Thief

Love. This. Song.

I heard you sing a rebel song,
sung it loud and all alone.
We can't afford the things you save,
we can't afford the warranty.
I see you walking in the glare
down the county road we share.
Our southern blood, my heresy,
damn that ol' confederacy.

It took a long time to
become the thing I am to you.
And you won't tear it apart
without a fight, without a heart.

I'm sorry for what you have learned,
when you feel the tables turn.
To run so hard in your race,
now you find who set the pace.
The landed aristocracy
exploiting all your enmity.
All your daddies fought in vain,
leave you with the mark of Cain.

It took a long time to
become the thing I am to you.
And you won't tear it apart
without a fight, without a heart.
It took a long time to
become you, become you.

The center holds, so they say.
It never held too well for me.
I won't stop short for common ground
that vilifies the trodden down.
The center held the bonded slave
for the sake of industry.
The center held the bloody hand
of the executioner man.

It took a long time to
become the thing I am to you.
And you won't tear it apart
without a fight, without a heart.
It took a long time to
become you, become you.

—Indigo Girls / Become You

Words dry up and fly away with the passing of the days

Run away to the seashore it doesn't matter anymore
Doesn't matter anymore
Words dry up and fly away with the passing of the days
Eventually you just let the stone fall

I dreamed that I saw you you were down at the corner store
You were looking through magazines and you flew out the door
I was trying to wave to you but you wouldn't wave back
Now you know I understand you're with me only in the past
Only in the past

My palms are not open they're closed they're closed
My palms are not open they're closed they're closed

I dreamed that I saw you you were down at the corner store
You were looking through magazines and you flew out the door
I was trying to wave to you but you wouldn't wave back
Now you know I understand you're with me only in the past
Only in the past

Colors streak the sky we laugh and we cry
And we dance in the cool grass with the fireflies
And we dance in the cool grass sunset birds
Sweet sweet music swallow our words
You set sail and you left this town
Run away, run away, you're so far from me now
So far from me now

I dreamed that I saw you you were down at the corner store
You were looking through magazines and you flew out the door
I was trying to wave to you but you wouldn't wave back
Now you know I understand you're with me only in the past
Only in the past

—The Be Good Tanyas / Only in the Past

Will these peeps never learn?

I suppose it's time to scrap my memoir about growing up in a wholesome, suburban neighborhood with my two sisters and loving parents . . . or . . . wait . . .

Gang Memoir, Turning Page, Is Pure Fiction

The next one.

The latest CD ordered: Alabama Chicken / Sean Hayes. I've been meaning to get this one for quite some time. (Sarah: check out the help on harmonies and violin.)

Considering the amount of jigging around that I do when ALABAMA CHICKEN comes on Pandora, I'm guessing I'll be happy with the album. He's been around for quite the while but I'm a new fan. Test out his stuff, you won't be disappointed: SeanHayesMusic.com. (Check out the "listen" section.)

Holy Funny, Batman

Pretty effing cool.

It's been a good day.

My Dove chocolate wrapper's bit of wisdom is to "Go to your special place."

My bit of wisdom?

Blow me.

INTeresting.

Vote Chooser

Maybe not in the V Day spirit?

PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE NOTES

You know what I hate the most about passive aggressive emails at work? The ellipsis at the end of statements. As in: "Sorry to hear that . . ."

Oh, you're sorry, are you? Well, I'm sorry too. Sorry you're an asshole.

See? You don't have to be passive about it.

Happy V-Day, peeps.

Breaking it down:

1. Mindy Smith Radio. Excellent working music. Now that I’m home, I want to go play my old Tracy Chapman CDs. (Note to self: remember to purchase old Cranberries albums – you have no idea where your cassette tapes went.)

2. I desperately need to de-clutter my life, namely my apartment (Oprah says it works wonders.) Books, clothes, etc to Housing Works, STAT -- with the exception of the “good books” (no, not bibles) that I shall try my best to sell on eBay. I’m also thinking of holding an “email” giveaway. Friends like books, no?

3. Turtlenecks = I will never purchase again. I own ONE and that’s one too many. And it’s a sweater type, lovely piece of clothing. But for the love of everything good and pure, I wanted to rip it off my neck all day. Sweet Jesus . . . Talk. About. Uncomfortable.

4. I can’t friggin’ wait to go out to my sister’s house this weekend. I miss her. I miss her child. I miss her hubby (and I’m DEFinitely sure he misses me A LOT, too). OH, and I miss Sober. My niece is talking so much now and I feel a deep need to conversate with her. Things seem to be hopping for that 3-year-old . . . as they should be. She barely has time to spit out all of her goings on before hanging up on me half the time.

5. I ALSO can’t wait to go home to Virginia NEXT weekend to see Faye, George (her new wee tot), Farrah (home from the land of the Brits), me Mam, and me Big Guy. I can’t wait to smell home.

6. Nessi: I’m going to need to squeeze your child soon.

7. Needs to go eats my Tasti now . . . it’s not going to eat itself.

Thank the LORD.

Strike Over

One more week without Grey's and I was going to have to start reading or something.

Someday.

I think I may need to reexamine my motivations. And those hopes and dreams people are always talking about.

Oh, and I need to clean my apartment. Totally need to do that.

have you ever been bent or pulled, have you ever been played like strings?

i will lean into you
and you can be the wind
i will open up my mouth
and you can come rushing in
you can rush in so hard
and make it so i can't breathe
i breathe too much anyway
i can do that anyday

i just wish i knew who you were
i wish you'd make yourself known
probably you don't know i'm her
the woman you want to call home
i'll keep my ear to the wall
i'll keep my eye on the door
'cause i've heard all my own jokes
and they're just not funny anymore
i laugh too much anyway
i can do that anyday

have you ever been bent or pulled
have you ever been played like strings
if i could see you i could strum you
i could break you
make you sing
but i guess you can't really see the wind
it just comes in and fills the space
and everytime something moves
you think that you have seen its face
and i've always got my guitar to play
but i can do that anyday

—ani difranco / anyday

You give me miles and miles of mountains and I'll ask for the sea.

Already

18-1

Cris: Your Boyfriend will be getting you one for V-Day, I'm sure.

So. Effing. True.

WWTDD

if i'm gonna go down, i'm gonna do it with style

life used to be life-like
now it's more like show biz
i wake up in the night
and i don't know where the bathroom is
and i don't know what town i'm in
or what sky i am under
and i wake up in the darkness and i
don't have the will anymore to wonder
everyone has a skeleton
and a closet to keep it in
and you're mine
every song has a you
a you that the singer sings to
and you're it this time
baby, you're it this time

when i need to wipe my face
i use the back of my hand
and i like to take up space
just because i can
and i use my dress
to wipe up my drink
i care less and less
what people think
and you are so lame
you always disappoint me
it's kinda like our running joke
but it's really not funny
i just want you to live up to
the image of you i create
i see you and i'm so unsatisfied
i see you and i dilate

so i'll walk the plank and i'll jump with a smile
if i'm gonna go down
i'm gonna do it with style
and you won't see me surrender
you won't hear me confess
'cuz you've left me with nothing
but i've worked with less
and i learn every room long enough
to make it to the door
and then i hear it click shut behind me
and every key works differently
i forget every time
and the forgetting defines me
that's what defines me

when i say you sucked my brain out
the english translation
is i am in love with you
and it is no fun
but i don't use words like love
'cuz words like that don't matter
but don't look so offended
you know, you should be flattered
i wake up in the night
in some big hotel bed
my hands grope for the light
my hands grope for my head
the world is my oyster
the road is my home
and i know that i'm better
off alone

—ani difranco / dilate

Is it weird that I prefer the ladies' renditions on "An Acoustic Tribute to Dave Matthews" than the original versions? I heart you, Pandora.

Stuck in a system that seeks to suck your blood

Yeah…Yeah…Yeah…Yeah…
You see the road to hell is paved with good intentions
Can't you tell the way they have to mention
How they helped you out, you're such a hopeless victim
Please don't do me any favors, Mr. Intentional.

All their talk is seasoned to perfection
The road they walk commanding your affection
They need to be needed, deceived by motivation, an opportunity to further situation
Why they're so important is without explanation
Please don't patronize me, Mr. Intentional…Oh…

We give rise to ego, by being insecure
The advice that we go desperately searching for
the subconscious effort to support our paramour
Too engaged in denial, to admit we're immature
Validating lies, Mr. Intentional…Oh…

Open up your eyes, Mr. Intentional…

Stuck in a system that seeks to suck your blood
Held emotionally hostage by what everybody does
Counting all the money that you give them just because
Exploiting ignorance in the name of love
Stop before you drop because that's just the way it was
Please don't justify me, Mr. Intentional
So one-dimensional, Mr. Intentional

Don't you do me any favors

Wake up you've been sleeping, take up your bed and walk
Stop blaming other people, it's nobody else's fault
Accept the truth about you
You know that life goes on without you and Your expensive misinventions, disguising your intentions
Don't worship my hurt feelings, Mr. Intentional

See I know you can't help me, Mr. Intentional
The only help I need to live is unprofessional
The only wealth I have to give is not material
And if you need much more than that - I'm not available

Please don't entertain me, Mr. Intentional
I don't need your sympathy, Mr. Intentional
Stay away from me, Mr. Intentional
So one-dimensional, Mr. Promotional, Mr. Emotional, Mr. Intentional…

Lauryn Hill / Mr. Intentional

You've all prolly seen it already . . .

Funny, ain't it?

Pinch punch, first day of the month! White rabbits!

How do you win against a woman who wakes up at the butt crack of dawn to beat you to the punch? . . . The punch! Ha! Get it?? Because "Pinch punch . . ." . . . "PUNCH" . . . hello?

I need to figure out how to transport a pinch and punch through the mail. My mother will be getting hers . . .