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 . . .

Poopy Poop. I forgot the Poopy Poop.

Ten Things Bugging The Piss Out Of Me:

1. I've broken two drinking glasses in under one week. And one of them was my favorite "Ithaca" one from my sister and bro-in-law.

2. Stepping on a tiny shard of glass from second said drinking glass.

3. Jack's Complete Lack Of Exercise.

4. Being behind. At my job, with freelance, with work for friends. I'm an asshole.

5. An always untidy apartment. Balls.

6. An always full laundry basket. Eff.

7. An always full sink of dirty dishes. Poop.

8. My inability to be on time. Ever.

9. My lack of willpower around anything labeled "ice cream."

10. My horrible excuse for keeping in touch with people.

And that's just ten . . . I totally could have gone on. Now, THAT would make for a hearty and interesting blog, eh? Feel free to play the tiny violins now.

I was supposed to go to bed at 11.

Is it possible to be this much of a moron?

Apparently, it is.

NY Press Sex Columnist Quits After Just One Column

Tori Amos and Wayne Brady

One of my favorites . . .



Interesting version . . .



AND, whilst looking for a clip of this song, I saw that Tori also performed on the Wayne Brady show. I didn't choose the clip BUT just his name makes me think of this:



. . . which is just effing great.

the answer came like a shot in the back

the answer came
like a shot in the back
while you were running from your lesson
which might explain
why years later all you could remember
was the terror of the question
plus, you weren't listening
you were stockpiling canned goods
making a bomb shelter of our basement
and i can't believe you let the moral go by
while you were soaking in the product placement

where was your conscience?
where was your consciousness?
and where did you put all those letters
that you wrote to yourself
but could not address?

i'm a good kisser
and you're a fast learner
and that kinda thing could float us
for a pretty long time
then one day you'd realize
you've memorized my phone number
and you'll call it and find
it's a disconnected line
cuz i got tossed out the window of love's el camino
and i shattered into a shower of sparks on the curb
you were smoking me
weren't you?
between your yellow fingers
you just inhaled and exhaled without saying a word

where was your conscience?
where was your consciousness?
and where did you put all those letters
that you wrote to yourself
but could not address?

there's a smorgasbord of unspoken poisons
a whole childhood of potions
that are all bottled up
and so one by one i am dusting off labels
i am uncorking bottles and filling up cups
so go ahead and have a taste of your own medicine
and i'll have a taste of mine
but first let's toast to the lists
that we hold in our fists
of the things that we promise to do
differently next time

cuz the answer came like a shot in the back
while you were running from your lesson
which might explain
why years later all you could remember
was the terror of the question
plus i'm not listening to you anymore
my head is too sore and my heart's perforated
and i'm mired in the marrow of my (well... ain't that) funny bone
learning how to be alone and devastated
where was my conscience?
where was my consciousness?
and what do i do with all these letters
that i wrote to myself
but cannot address?

—ani difranco / marrow

Well, I say . . .

The "eliminating complications" I can handle . . . the warm water massage I'll take a pass on.

SCORPIO [Oct. 23–Nov. 21]
Internet pundit Ariana Huffington realized that she was working too hard when she got so exhausted that she passed out and broke her cheekbone on her desk. Resolving to give herself more slack, she decided to carry just two BlackBerries with her at all times instead of the three that had been her constant companions. I request that you perform at least two similar acts of self-care in the coming week, Scorpio. They could come in the form of either eliminating complications, as Huffington did, or else adding luxurious treats. For example, you might want to arrange to be massaged in warm water by a team of charismatic healers singing you love songs and lullabies. —Rob Brezsny, Village Voice

I saw a man wearing Uggs this morning. Something about New York just got shittier. (Just kidding! I heart you applehead!)

Must go see her live soon.

I'm like the rain in a downpour
I wash away what you long for
And I wave goodbye with the sun in my eyes
I wish I could be there tonight

I'm like the wind in the canyon
I'm there, then I'm gone in a second
You're growing older in peace where you're at
I wish I could be there for that
But I've moved on
Like a rolling stone
In a crowded room
I'm alone

I'm like the rain in a downpour
I wash away what you long for
And I wave goodbye with the sun in my eyes
I wish I could be there tonight
Oh, oh, yeah

You're like the tide in the deep blue
Cause you're always there when I need you
And when you need someone to carry you through
I'm gonna be there for you
I'm gonna be there for you

—Brandi Carlile / Downpour

working music

i heard the sound of your bike
as your wheels hit the gravel
then your engine in the driveway, cutting off
i pushed through the screen door
and i stood out on the porch
thinking fight fight fight at all costs
but instead i let you in
just like i've always done
i sat you down and offered you a beer
and across the kitchen table
i fired several rounds
but you were still sitting there when the smoke cleared

you came crawling back to say
that you want to make good in the end
oh, let me count the ways that i abhor you
you were never a good lay
and you were never a good friend
but oh, what can i say, i adore you

all i need is my leather
one t-shirt and two socks
i'll keep my hands warm in your pockets
and you can use the engine block
we'll ride out to california
with my arms around your chest
and i'll pretend that this is real
'cuz this is what i like best

you've been juggling two women
like a stupid circus clown
telling us both we are the one
and maybe you can keep me
from ever being happy
but you're not going to stop me
from having fun

so let's go, before i change my mind
i'll leave the luggage of all your lies behind
'cuz i am bigger than everything that came before
you were never very kind
and you let me way down every time
but oh, what can i say, i adore you

i heard the sound of your bike
as your wheels hit the gravel
then your engine in the driveway, cutting off

—ani difranco / gravel

So, what're you gonna do about it?

So, the last few lyrics posted have been Ani's.

So, suck it.

Today's a good day, me thinks.

they are six strings that sing, and wood that hums against my hipbone

i am looking for the holes
the holes in your jeans
because i want to know
are they worn out in the seat
or are they worn out in the knees

there are so many ways to wear
what we have before it's gone
to make use of what is there
you know i don't wear anything i can't wipe my hands on

oh, do your politics fit between the headlines
are they written in newsprint, are they distant
mine are crossing an empty parking lot
they are a woman walking home
at night
alone
they are six strings that sing
and wood that hums against my hipbone

we can't afford to do anyone harm
because we owe them our lives
each breath is recycled from someone else's lungs
our enemies are the very air in disguise

you can talk a great philosophy
but if you can't be kind to people
every day
it doesn't mean that much to me
it's the little things you do
the little things you say
it's the love you give along the way

when we patch things up
they say a job well done
but when we ask the question why
where did the rips come from?
they say we are subversive
and extreme, of course
we are just trying to track a problem to its source

we are looking for the holes
the holes
we are looking for the holes
the holes

because we know we can't sit back
and let people come to harm
we owe them our lives
each breath is recycled from someone else's lungs
our enemies are the very air
our enemies are the air

i am looking for the holes
the holes in your jeans
because i want to know
are they worn out in the seat
or are they worn out in the knees

—ani difranco / looking for the holes

phew.

SCORPIO [Oct. 23–Nov. 21]
Why does human anatomy include the organ known as the appendix? For centuries, doctors have been unable to determine its purpose. Most have decided it's unnecessary, a vestigial structure left over from an earlier stage of evolution. But recent research suggests the conventional wisdom has to be revised. In fact, the appendix seems to protect and regenerate the good bacteria that live in the intestines. I predict that you're on the verge of a metaphorically comparable discovery, Scorpio: Something you have always considered to be useless or irrelevant will reveal its true value. —Rob Brezsny, Village Voice

I KNEW that third nipple was there for something.

I'd like to drink the fuel straight from your lighter.

I have daydreams involving his songs.



Mike Doughty / Rising Sign

Your back curves like a creeping vine
with the answers in the fluid in the stem of the spine
In the black-coffee bowl of your eye
why do you overestimate the size of the lie?

I've seen
the dangers of
your rising sign
but I swear
I'd like
to drink the fuel straight from your lighter
it's all inside the wrist, it's
all inside the way you time it
I resent the way you make me like myself

My nerves jump
like a boiling pan
like a skillet full of oil spits,
rattling on the burner
when I stumble onto the thought
of the match you lit and dropped and set the
dial to slow yearn

I've seen
the dangers of
your rising sign
but I swear
I'd like
to drink the fuel straight from your lighter
It's all inside the wrist, It's
all inside the way you time it
I resent the way you make me like myself

can I spell it out?
should I spell it out?

I've seen
the dangers of
your rising sign
but I swear
I'd like
to drink the fuel straight from your lighter
it's all inside the wrist, it's
all inside the way you time it
I resent the way you make me like myself




Mike Doughty / The Only Answer

Upon the rails,
Among the weeds,
I had a moment of, serenity.
I saw you stand,
In all the green,
Upon the rusting rail,
Balancing.

You were the only answer,
My plans spun all around you,
Five years in the wrong I am assured,
My name to you is just another word,
In your bed.
In Morristown,
You had magazines, thrown around.
From under them,
The phone it rang,
And in the margin there,
You wrote the number down.

You were the only answer,
My plans spun all around you,
Five years in the wrong I am assured,
My name to you is just another word,
Another word,
Another word,
The only answer,
Another word,
The only answer,
The only answer,
The only answer

um . . .

I'm still really friggin' hungry, if anyone cares. And, no, even though everyone keeps telling me to eat, I'm not going to! Now it's ON. Now I have to do this. Eff. This is cleansing, people! CLEANSING!

I need a drink of the non-water persuasion. And a sammich . . . with cheese . . . ooh, and chips . . . and maybe some ice cream . . .

EFF EFF EFF

I'm going to feel better tomorrow, I'm going to feel better tomorrow, I'm going to feel better tomorrow . . .

oh crap.

I'm hungry.

it's that kind of day . . .

coming of age during the plague
of reagan and bush
watching capitalism gun down democracy
it had this funny effect on me
i guess

i am cancer
i am HIV
and i'm down at the blue jesus
blue cross hospital
just lookin' up from my pillow
feeling blessed

and the mighty multinationals
have monopolized the oxygen
so it's as easy as breathing
for us all to participate

yes they're buying and selling
off shares of air
and you know it's all around you
but it's hard to point and say "there"
so you just sit on your hands
and quietly contemplate

your next bold move
the next thing you're gonna need to prove
to yourself

what a waste of thumbs that are opposable
to make machines that are disposable
and sell them to seagulls flying in circles
around one big right wing

yes, the left wing was broken long ago
by the slingshot of cointelpro
and now it's so hard to have faith in
anything

especially your next bold move
or the next thing you're gonna need to prove
to yourself

you want to track each trickle
back to its source
and then scream up the faucet
'til your face is hoarse
cuz you're surrounded by a world's worth
of things you just can't excuse

but you've got the hard cough of a chain smoker
and you're at the arctic circle playing strip poker
and it's getting colder and colder
everytime you lose

so go ahead
make your next bold move
tell us
what's the next thing you're gonna need to prove
to yourself

— ani (as always) / your next bold move

Anew.

Alright, alright, alright. Tomorrow = Fast #2. It’s time. Time to start the new year. Time to clean this shit out.

Speaking of the new year, I’m having a hard time remembering to write 2008. Every effing time . . .

Right, so, the fast . . . I’ve been the picture of disastrous health lately and I need to get a hold of myself. Therefore: all day, no food. Just water. This is going to rock even harder than the first time. I am so fucking cool.

Jesus Christ, I swear a lot. That should have been my resolution. To get a goddamn hold of my language. But really, why bother? I like my vocal cords with a little flavor.

I really don’t know what I’m talking about. Gotta go.

buildings and bridges

buildings and bridges
are made to bend in the wind
to withstand the world,
that's what it takes
all that steel and stone
are no match for the air, my friend
what doesn't bend breaks
what doesn't bend breaks

we are made to bleed
and scab and heal and bleed again
and turn every scar into a joke
we are made to fight
and fuck and talk and fight again
and sit around and laugh until we choke
sit around and laugh until we choke

i don't know who you were expecting
probably some bitch who does not budge
with eyes the size of snow
i may get pissed off sometimes
but you seem like the type to hold a grudge
and in the end, i just let go...

buildings and bridges
are made to bend in the wind
to withstand the world,
that's what it takes
all that steel and stone
is no match for the air, my friend
what doesn't bend breaks
what doesn't bend breaks

—ani fucking difranco

Eat this.

I’ve been wanting to blog for awhile. I've had a lot on my mind. I’ve been tossing back and forth the resolutions everyone is so fond of making around this time. I’ll lose weight, I’ll eat better, I’ll keep in better touch, I’ll work on the debt, I’ll try not to end up drunk and topless, etc.

I've concluded that what I really want this year is less stress. I don’t want so much panic in 2008. I don’t want the worry and the ache and the upset. I need some peace.

Sure, I’d love to drop a couple sizes . . . but the peace, that’s first and foremost. I’m going to work on reworking my life. I need some reconfiguration. I need to clean up and sort through the mess.

I’m expecting that when Elizabeth Gilbert wrote Eat, Pray, Love, she meant to do just that. And she did, I’m assuming . . .

It’s not the right time in my life to be reading this book. I’m halfway through it and, while well-written, it’s doing more to piss me off than anything else. Honestly, I’d just like to sucker punch Miss. (Ms.?) Gilbert . . . or at least look her straight in the face and give her a good, loud “Wah.”

It’s just way too hard for me right now to feel for someone who can afford to drop everything (job, belongings, responsibilities) and get paid (in advance) for a book she’s going to write about the year-long trip she’s ABOUT to take to Italy and India and wherever. Seriously. Seriously? Fuck. That.

But perhaps I’m being too harsh. Maybe I should understand how upsetting it is that she can’t meditate as well as everyone else at some Ashram in India. Maybe I should understand that the only way she will get over her depression, lack-of-self, and loneliness is to drop out of her life and spend loads of money on a trip around the world. MAYBE someone ought to tell Miss. Fancypants about sucking it up. Some of us have other things to worry about, like, say, oh, trying to keep a roof over one’s head, whilst having no money in their bank account. And although, I'd love to learn how to do this while pulling a fancy yoga pose, comefuckingon.

See? WRONG time to be reading this book. And THAT is why I’ve put it down. One must know when to walk away.

I’m going to try picking it up again when I feel less rage (read: sometime in 2008 . . . one can only hope).

Fade Into You

Oh, and hey, when MTV had music:

NO! No!

It can't be true! How could it be??!! But, it makes no sense!

Thank GOODness we now know about this.

School Popularity Affects Girls’ Weights

Harvard University: I applaud you. Bravo.

Happy New Year.

You know I love music
And every time I hear something hot
It makes me wanna move
It makes me wanna have fun
But it’s something about this joint right here
This joint right here
Its makes me wanna . . . Woooh

Let it go . . .
Can’t let this thing called love get away from you
Feel free right now, go do what you want to do
Can’t let nobody take it away, from you, from me, from we
No time for moping around, are you kidding?
And no time for negative vibes, cause I’m winning
It’s been a long week, I put in my hardest
Gonna live my life, feels so good to get it right

So I like what I see when I’m looking at me
When I’m walking past the mirror
Don't stress through the night, at a time in my life
Ain’t worried about if you feel it
Got my head on straight, I got my vibe right
I aint gonna let you kill it
You see I wouldn’t change my life, my life’s just . . .

Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, ooooh
Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, ooooh
Just fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, ooooh
You see I wouldn’t change my life, my life’s just fine

Feels so good, when you’re doing all the things that you want to do
Get the best out of life, treat yourself to something new
Keep your head up high
In yourself, believe in you, believe in me
Having a really good time, I’m not complaining
And I’m a still wear a smile if it's raining
I got to enjoy myself regardless
I appreciate life, I’m so glad that it's fine

So I like what I see when I’m looking at me
When I’m walking past the mirror
Ain't worried about you and what you gonna do
I’m a lady so I must stay classy
Got to keep it hot, keep it together
If I want to get better
See I wouldn’t change my life, my life’s just . . .

Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, ooooh
Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, ooooh
Just fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, ooooh
See I won’t change my life, my life’s just fine

I ain't gon’ let nothing get in my way
(I ain't gone let nobody bring me down, no, no, no)
No matter what nobody has to say
(No way, no way, no way)
I ain’t gon’ let nothing get in my way
No matter what nobody has to say

Feels so good, when you’re doing all the things that you want to do
Get the best out of life, treat yourself to something new
It’s a really good thing to say
That I won’t change my life, my life’s just fine

Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, ooooh
Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, ooooh
Just fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, ooooh
See I won’t change my life, my life’s just fine

So I like what I see when I’m looking at me
When I’m walking past the mirror
Don't stress through the night, at a time in my life
Ain’t worried about if you feel it
Got my head on straight, I got my vibe right
I ain’t gonna let you kill it
You see I wouldn’t change my life, my life’s just . . .

Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, ooooh
Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, ooooh
Just fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, ooooh
You see I wouldn’t change my life, my life’s just fine

MARY J BLIGE / JUST FINE

Must buy kitten. ASAP.

Enough Cryin'

It's amazing just how much Mary J. Blige one can listen to without getting sick of her.

Seriously.

I asked Santa for her new album for Christmas. Santa better friggin' pay up.

Done.

I'm officially fed up with everything. Done and done.

Bah humbug.

manhole

i'm holding here a book
notable, but not the greatest
stolen for me by the latest
in a long line of thieves
and i'm just about to drop it
down that manhole of memories
when i realize it doesn't bother me
like love's mementos usually do
and i look up to see who's different here
the latest me or the latest you

course, you're the kind of guy who doesn't lie
he just doctors everything
chooses some unassuming finger
and quietly moves his wedding ring
who rewrites his autobiography
for any pretty girl who'll sing
but you can't fool the queen, baby
cuz i married the king

and maybe it was i who betrayed his majesty
with no opposite reality
like a puddle with no reflection
of the sky or the trees
but after my dreaded beheading
i tied that sucker back on with a string
and i guess i'm pretty different now
considering

i kissed you on the street that night
on the far side of four
but i didn't like the taste
in my mouth or yours
and ignoring the persona you wore for my benefit
for once i had the balls to call it
just call it
but a lesson must be lived
in order to be learned
and the clarity to see and stop this now
that is what i've earned

and maybe it was i who betrayed his majesty
with no opposite reality
like a puddle with no reflection
of the sky or the trees
but after my dreaded beheading
i tied that sucker back on with a string
and i guess i'm pretty different now
considering

i'm holding here a book
notable, but not the greatest
stolen for me by the latest
in a long line of thieves
and i'm just about to drop it
down that manhole of memories
when i realize it doesn't bother me
and heartache not so dire
cuz i looked up to see integrity
finally won over desire

—ANI DIFRANCO

uh huh

SCORPIO [Oct. 23–Nov. 21]
For reasons too silly to go into here (involving romance, of course), I once spent six months making thrice-weekly three-and-a-half-hour round trips from Chapel Hill, North Carolina, to Columbia, South Carolina. The back roads I drove on were sparsely traveled and my ancient pickup truck didn't have a radio, so I passed the time by reading. I became quite skilled at continually darting my eyes back and forth between the road and the open book resting on my steering wheel; in this way I got through James Joyce's Ulysses, Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, and Thomas Mann's Magic Mountain. I don't advise you to try something so dangerous, Scorpio, but I do believe it's a perfect astrological moment for you to master the art of slipping back and forth between two starkly different realities.
—Rob Brezsny, Village Voice

Like, say, living within my means vs. living way effing beyond my means? Check.

rolling home to you

Old man, look at my life, I'm a lot like you

Old man, take a look at my life
Twenty-four and I'm so much more
Live alone in a paradise, makes me think of two

Love lost at such a cost
Give me things that don't get lost
Like a coin that won't get tossed, rolling home to you

Old man, take a look at my life, I'm a lot like you
I need someone to love me the whole day through
Oh, one look in my eyes and you can tell that's true

Lullabies, look in your eyes
Run around the same old town
Doesn't mean that much to me, mean that much to you

I've been first and last
Look at how the time goes past
But I'm all alone at last, rolling home to you

Old man, take a look at my life, I'm a lot like you
I need someone to love me the whole day through
Oh, one look in my eyes and you can tell that's true

Old man, look at my life, I'm a lot like you

—Old Man / The Wailin' Jennys

Word, no?

220 calories

Mike and Ike: I heart you.

There’s grown-up on my pillow.

(Hope you’re feeling better Lisbeth. And it’s throw-up.)

I don’t understand them, the people who show up for jury duty without a book, magazine, crossword puzzle, pen and paper, anything. I watched these people do nothing all day today. How can you do nothing for eight hours? They just sat. And stared. At nothing. I don’t understand them.

That being said, I got through two magazines, a third of Eat, Pray, Love and had quite the day of relaxation and quiet. I love jury duty. To sit in a quiet room for eight hours and read? Now, I know this isn’t the typical civic duty service for most, but to be one of the lucky ones as I was today? . . . to not have your name called? . . . while at first it felt like I was the last pick in the school yard, I soon got over it.

Back to work tomorrow. I might just have to go back to being a legal eagle (I'm so cool) later in the week though. Don’t ask . . . I have no idea how this crap works either. I’m just doing what they tell me.

It’s past my bedtime and I have a big tension headache from the enormous breakdown I just had on the phone with my sister. Dude, Sarah, you’re one patient lady. I’m terribly sorry you always seem to get the explosions. (I know it’s particularly fun to hear me fight to catch breath, being so friggin’ blocked up and all.)

Ugh . . .

One last fit for 2007, I suppose (let’s hope that’s the last one). I think 2008 is going to be all about learning how to live in a capable, non-retarded fashion. Or perhaps I won’t have to worry and soon I’ll just start pooping money.

I’m going to go to bed now and hope that I wake up making more sense.

From Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert:

"I love my pizza so much, in fact, that I have come to believe in my delirium that my pizza might actually love me, in return."

"You were given life; it is your duty (and also your entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight."

"Brad's bum in particular was in a bad way."

Thank you for this, Betsy.

Fans get too close to Brad Pitt and George Clooney waxworks

Holy crap, that's some funny shit.

High C.

I’m retuning today: Retune the Body with a Partial Fast

I’ve never realized just how much of my life revolves around food . . . how much I think about it, love it, plan ahead for it. And, I have to say . . . I just don’t think that’s a bad thing.

I’m hungry as hell. Yet . . . proud. Just think, I’m waking up tomorrow retuned! How’re YOU waking up tomorrow?

7.5 hours to go . . .

I'm a friggin' hero.

Good. And good.

I just read about this web site in Self magazine. I already love it.

lifehacker


(Congrats, pumpkinhead. I'm proud of you. I still think you're crazy, but I'm proud of you.)

Next time I'm just going for the bacon, egg & cheese.

Sugar-free mixed berry corn muffins can suck it. No wonder that's all they had left.

Wah.

Awe.Some.

I just ran into some chick and doused myself with my morning Diet Coke.

Oh, the day it's shaping up to be . . .

Um, yeah.

So, is this becoming the Chris Pureka fansite? What can I say? I've been listening to her stuff nonstop since I got the albums.



But really, with lyrics like this:

So I made a little room,
up on the top shelf
and I won't hold that place dog-eared anymore,
no which is to say
life just goes on dear,
which is to say
sometimes I miss you like hell...

. . . how in the hell can you not appreciate her?

Interesting campaign.

Don't know much about Mr. Huckabee, but I know Mr. Norris has fists of steel. Politics Shmolitics, this made me laugh . . .



I don't consider myself a Republican at all, but I must say that I appreciate Huckabee's humor.

And I appreciate Chuck, too. As do we all: Chuck Norris Facts.

So It Goes

Listened to the new Chris Pureka album (Dryland) whilst cleaning last night. I really do love this chick's music.

Word. Click the title to listen to the song. Tis worth it.

So It Goes

You pack your sweaters for the fall
and the flowers die in their garden rows
and the warm words can't help at all,
everybody knows...

You're trying to find a compromise
between remembering and learning to forget,
so now just pouring a glass of water
is like trying to move boulders with your breath.

It's so hard to see it all,
she tries to hold you in the night,
but you're shaking you're crying out,
praying for sleep to bless your bedside.

That's right, so it goes,
the whole world folds over you.
Pack your handkerchief and your best shoes...

Reconciliation of guilt and grief,
it's the hardest battle you've tried to win
and now every year you grit your teeth
as it cuts you underneath your skin.

Oh and Sunday mornings don't bring you solace,
you are firm in your disbelief
but you hold tight to that old promise;
you are waiting for the spring,
you are waiting for the spring.

That's right, so it goes,
the whole world folds over you.
Pack your handkerchief and your best shoes...

Don't leave me breathing,
no not alone,
there's so much more I meant to tell you.
I went by with flowers, just to see,
but that granite told me you're still gone....

Don't leave me breathing,
no not alone,
there's so much more I meant to tell you...
I went by with flowers, just to see,
but the granite told me you're still gone....

My, your shoes are lovely.

I was up until 2 a.m. cleaning my apartment. My dinner consisted of a glass of wine and a bowl of ice cream. I haven't exercised more than twice a week in months . . . (and I'm lucky if I get 2 workouts in). I am the pillar of health.

And I am a tired girl. And a lazy girl. Case in point, I just ran a couple of errands in my building with two different shoes on:



I noticed the incorrect shoe-ing minutes after leaving my desk YET I made no effort to back-up and start over. Because I really don't give a shit. Awesome, right? Right.

Dude, I wish I was still sleeping.

(Man, this blog post might be my most entertaining one yet. I am on FIRE.)

Funny.

very pretty, very sad

it's been four years since that day when the news fell from the sky
you took until we meet again and turned it to goodbye
and I hope that you won't rest in peace because that would bore you right to tears
you always made the richest feast of the dangers and the fears

it was almost fine, you were almost mine
it was you and me and love made three on a broken white line

well that night was long, there was one more song and then we were on our way
driving slow, no place to go and nothing more to say
and the rain came down around that car like we were underneath the sea
in the back seat, almost drowning, holding on to me

it was almost fine, you were almost mine
and from town to town we chased it down on a broken white line
looking in your eyes was just like staring at the sun
always thought that I'd go blind or end up all undone

and in the end I turned my face away from where you shone so bright
now I wake in all this darkness crying for a little of your light

it's been four years and now I find I've been living all this time
I built myself a little world of rhythm and of rhyme
but sometimes I take your picture and I turn it to the wall
because you are still a cliff and baby I still know how to fall

it was almost fine, you were almost mine
but day by day you slipped away down that broken white line

it was you and me and love made three

broken white line / kris delmhorst

***

I hear you, Cris.

Amazing. Just amazing.

ICANHASCHEEZBURGER

Right. Right. What??

SCORPIO [Oct. 23 – Nov. 21]
I believe that doing the challenging assignments I'm about to describe will put you in alignment with cosmic rhythms and make it more likely that you will attract grace and synchronicity into your life. You are, of course, under no obligation to carry them out. That's because you have free will and are always at liberty to choose a path that leads you away from grace and synchronicity. With that as a caveat, here are the roles I believe you should play in the coming week if you'd like to thrive: a catalytic X-factor; a tender wild card; a friendly shocker; a nonviolent bombshell; an agent provocateur who loves all you survey. —Rob Breszny, Village Voice

Huh?

Two A-Holes.

Love them so very much.


Funny: Two A-Holes work out with a trainer.

Prepare yourself for my folly.

SCORPIO [Oct. 23 – Nov. 21]
A drunk dominatrix sidled up to me at a party and said, "Reverend, please absolve me of my sins." I'm not officially a priest, but in the spirit of fun and games I replied, "Why, my dear? Have you seen the error of your ways?" She spread her arms wide as she bowed, hissing like a serpent through a toothy smile. "Not at all, Reverend," she said. "I just want to clear the docket so I can go out and commit a slew of fresh new sins with crazy abandon." I sprinkled a few drops of Heineken on her head and channeled William Blake: "You'll never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough. The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom. If the fool would persist in her folly, she would become wise." And now, Scorpio, I'm channeling the same blessing for you. —Village Voice / Rob Brezsny

Well, if that's not an invitation for debauchery, I'm not sure what is.

New music . . . yes, again . . .

Newest album purchase: Deb Talan / A Bird Flies Out.



Bought the CD for the track, Rocks and Water. Lovely song:

Seven times I went down
Six times I walked back
I don't fear the dark anymore
'Cause I've become all that

Chorus:
I will be rocks I will be water
I will leave this to my daughter
Lift your head up in the wind
When you feel yourself grow colder
Wrap the night around your shoulders
I will be with you even then
Even when I cannot see your face anymore

Don't forget the time I wooed him with red wine
The devil he wore such a fine, fine shirt
And it stayed so clean
While he dragged me through the dirt

Now honey don't trust anyone who looks you in the eye
Don't take any kindness, it's a demand in disguise

Repeat Chorus

I have seen such things child
On this and the other side
Words cannot show you
The midnight owl it does not know you
You will see for your sweet self by and by

Repeat Chorus


And, now I need to get something from The Weepies, which is her "group" with Steve Tannen . . . with whom she wrote Rocks and Water. Full. Circle.

Also loving this track: Unraveling

You tie your shoes too tight, you know
cause it feels better that way.
And when you don't, all night you are dreaming
you walk, laces streaming down the street behind you.

A river of tangled string
you are unraveling
and no one else seems to mind.
You keep it to yourself, stay numb and act fine.
You wear the truth under your sole, like a pebble
it makes you limp and sway
but it will out someday.

Take it from me it is no use
washing your hands so often they are clean and cracked.
You never get your old skin back
once you have loved like that
you're a river of tangled string...

He is inside you, he loved your marrow.
You think you could cut him out with a knife
if you went deep enough
I don't think so.
Maybe sing him back to living
'cause he might rise like a snake in a basket
or he may close his eyes
and wait till his life is a full-fledged casket, floating on
a river of tangled string...

ugh

Grapes are filling.

Just sayin' . . .

Damn, this album is really friggin' good.

I've got skin like birch bark
you can peel me off and lose me to the wind
I guess it's too late, to protect myself from this

it feels like I've been driving north
it's getting colder by the mile
and at this rate I'll be buried in snow in no time at all
but you've been building these walls for a long time
it's not that I didn't know but you'd flash me another smile
as you'd lay another stone
and I still fall for that
I still fall for that one every time

this is all that's left
just these sad sad songs
if you're going to go your way
I guess I'll carry myself along

could you build me a guardrail
to keep me from falling off of the ledge?
or throw me a rope and pull me out of this?
could you sew me a flag to remind me
where I stand without you, it's easy to forget

and this is all that's left...

well I've been taking long drives with the music too loud
I've been dragging my feet over the February ground
and I've been talking to strangers at the local bars
and I wish they were you
you know it just brings me down
tell me a joke or two I could use one now

'cause I've got skin like birch bark...

and this is all that's left...

—Driving North / Chris Pureka

It means, there's a spider on your mutha-fuckin' head.

For Cris: You got the hot foot.



You wanna cookie? I'll give you a cookie . . . *pelvic thrust, pelvic thrust*

OK, maybe I like Halloween a LITTLE bit.

Good grief, my niece is just the cutest thing.

Quite. Nice.

I just bought an album called Driving North by Chris Pureka.



I heard her song, Burning Bridges, on the Be Good Tanyas radio station I made on Pandora. The album is lovely. Listened to it last night and immediately put it in my iTunes, at work, this morning.

LYRICS:

This is a story of burning bridges
and allowing time to pass
this is a story of forgiveness
and breaking things in my hands
this is a story of understanding
you can't choose who you love
and this is a story of soft skin
and rats in the walls

well you can't just pass along
the pain that comes around
you'll go dizzy until you fall
and I know you didn't mean to let me down
but you let me down so hard

this is a story of loaded glances
and leaning in too far
this is a story of vague advances
and confessions in smoky bars
so now I am walking down the sidewalk
and I am singing to myself
and I'm going to leave it all behind me now
'cause I don't need this,
I just don't need this

and you can't...

these memories are talking and talking
and I'll do anything to shut 'em up
I've got the pillow over my head
but they won't stop
no, no they won't stop

some fantasies are never meant to be
realized at all
and some regrets could be prevented
if you read the writing on the wall
oh and sometimes you say "you know nothing can happen"
and then she leans over and lifts off your glasses
and the next thing you know you're just tangled and guilty
and you've got a head full of liquor and perfume
oh and when did you leave me
and when did you find her
and tell me is this just what you wanted...


Good review of Driving North

I'll be buying her new album (Dryland) soon. My, how I love discovering a good singer/songwriter.

Juice and a movie . . .

I hear my niece is watching Lady and the Tramp right now.

I wish I was with her.

Both Hands

This has been one of my favorite Ani songs since listening to the Like I Said album nonstop on a trip to England, after my high school graduation. I'm really loving the new re-recorded version on the new double album Canon, too. And just looky what I found on YouTube. (It's a wonder I get anything done with the interweb's snazziness afoot.)

Nope, nope, nope

Not a damn thing wrong with this album.
Heart heart heart heart heart . . .

Spring cleaning . . . in the Fall.

SCORPIO [Oct. 23 – Nov. 21]
Don't eat stale candy from a vending machine where it has sat for six months. Don't seek advice from people who haven't changed their minds about anything since the last century. And don't wear clothes you acquired before 2005 or cling to attitudes you adopted before last month. Catch my drift, Scorpio? You need to evade every influence that tends to keep you frozen in the past. In fact, I'll go so far as to say that it's time to make yourself fully available for the healthiest kind of future shock. Halloween costume suggestions: a grinning exclamation point, a rosebud about to burst open, a welcome sign, a religious devotee dressed in white.
—Village Voice, Rob Brezsny

Word. Well, except for the Halloween part. That part can suck it. Halloween can suck it. What? Where are my pants?

I never ramble.

Tis truly frustrating not having a computer at home. Truly, truly frustrating. I’ve become way too dependent on technology. But you can bet your ass I’ll never be going on one of those “Living Green for a Year!” endeavors that are all the rage right now. Nope, Green can suck it. (Just kidding, just kidding, Earth!)

Sooooooo . . . the computer is MAYBE going to work again. Maybe not. Things are fuzzy. BUT the good news is that I’ll be buying one of the G5s going off lease from my company for about $300 – and I think I’ll be bringing that puppy home next week sometime. So, that’s something. Of course, wouldn’t you know, as soon as I have a wee bit more money coming in, out it on goes. Jebus. Yet, I need the faster, better, doesn’t-shut-down-every-5-minutes machine. Need need need want want want . . .

Completely OFF subject, I heard the following conversation on Tuesday morning, on my bus-ride to work. Made me laugh SO I wrote it down for your pleasure:

Old woman: “You know Tom’s suit last night?”

Old man: “Yeah (pause) what about it?”

Old woman: “I always wanted you to buy one like that but it’s too late now. Now you’re too old.

And . . . silence.

Right. Well, that doesn’t seem very nice. But, it sure is funny . . . to some.

Moving on . . .

I am in LOVE with the Be Good Tanyas radio station I’ve created on Pandora. It rocks it. Big time. And I did some digging on the interweb this evening and bought a CD from one chick I’ve discovered. Have a list of another ten CDs I’m going to look into. Will let you good people know what I think later. YOU must be on the edge of your seat, eh?

(Sarah: Interesting tidbit . . . seems Natalie Merchant covers “Sally Ann” on a retrospective CD she put out. INTeresting, eh? Not a bad track either.

OH, and I must say, that even though Old Crow Medicine Show has “Cocaine Habit” on seemingly every album, I quite like the track on Big Iron World the best. It’s crazy good . . . so I think. And, what do you think?)

OK, I’m done talking to my sister now.

(Where was my 4:30 call today? Not cool.)

OK, now I’m done.

I really can’t think of much else I have to say. I’m sure I’ll remember something else I wanted to ramble about halfway thru my walk home (which I’m quite looking forward to tonight – need to do some thinking . . . it’s my big girl birthday on Saturday, after all. I need to start analyzing the shit out of my life and such. Per usual.)



Just going to keep going with them . . . one of the songs in my top 5 (it’s just so lovely and this is a good performance of it!):



And the video (Sarah: have you seen this?? Notice the Gillian cameo!):



My how Ketch is a lovely boy. (I really still can’t believe they played at your wedding, Sarah. You give Andrew the music responsibility and look how well he does!)

And I am NOW done talking to my sister via my blog-o.

Have one hell of a night, peeps.

Loving this song today:

from the depth of the pacific
to the height of everest
and still the world is smoother
than a shiny ball-bearing
so i take a few steps back
and put on a wider lens
and it changes your skin,
your sex, and what your wearing
distance shows your *silhouette*
to be a lot like mine
like a sphere is a sphere
and all of us here
have been here all the time
yeah, we've been here all the time*

you brought me to church
cinder blocks, flourescent light
you brought me to church
at seven o'clock on a sunday night
and the band was rockin'
and the floors were scrubbed clean
and everybody had a tambourine

so i took a deep breath and became
the white girl with the hair
and you sat right beside me
while everybody stared
and through the open window
i think the singing went outside
and floated up to tell
all the stars not to hide
'cuz by the time church let out
the sky was much clearer
and the moon was so beautiful
that the ocean held up a mirror

as we walked home we spoke slowly
we spoke slow
and we spoke lowly
like it was taking more time
than usual to choose
the words to go
with your squeaky sandal shoes
like time is not a thing
thats ours to lose

from the height of the pacific
to the depths of the everest...

everest / ani difranco

I hate your heroes.

Eff the gym. I'm going home, to eat mac & cheese and watch women cry their eyes out on The Bachelor.

My plans = Amazing.

www.readabookalready.com

So, it turns out my lovely computer has a memory problem (just like its Mam) BUT it’s being handled. Bought myself a brand-spanking new gigabyte of mems this afternoon. Surely that should make the sucker comfortable until I purchase a friend for him. We shall see, oh we shall see.

Now that I’m done boring MYSELF . . .

All of this means I’m not going to have a computer this weekend. No checking of the email, no wide webbed world browsing, no pretending to work on my “budget” when I’m really just looking at old photographs. None of that . . .

Damn.

I hope there’s good TV on.

And now it’s off to the gym for the FOURTH time this week!! I. Am. Hot. Shit. No, seriously. Seriously.

Seriously.

OH, those crazy Brits.

Gotta love this:

Pretty awesome.

Anne Coulter Hacked!

She's so fucking cool.

Fatty McFatpants

I haven't stopped eating all day. Seriously, I can't be stopped.

One night at the gym and apparently I have the metabolism of . . . of . . . Calista Flockhart?? (Yeah, I don't know . . . I got nothing.)

Although, I did manage to lose a good twenty pounds during the commute to work this morning. I have FINALLY brought my computer in for my IT friendy friend to take a look at . . . as it can't go 5 minutes without crapping out. Of course, I wouldn't have had to lug my damn tower into work had I been able to identify the hard drive upon opening said tower. (Yup, I'm a moron.)

But, believe me, I definitely lost some weight. (Which makes me think . . . perhaps I bring a heavy item from home every time I go to work? Today, my computer. Tomorrow, my TV.) That badass was heavy. And I wouldn't suggest taking the bus whilst transporting a computer. You get . . . looks . . . and stupidity. One women asked me what it was. When I said "a computer" she said "oh! I didn't realize that because it's in a case!" . . . WHAT??? What in the hell kind of computer does she use?? Fucking PC users . . .

Right . . . soooooooo, what I'm saying is, I'm a rockstar. That's pretty much it.

Bah blah bah blah bah blahhhhh

It has now been . . . I’d say . . . well . . . a long fucking time since I was last at the gym. And I’m feeling it. Big Time. It’s pretty damn horrible how quickly you can fall out of an exercise routine . . .

Yeah, so I’m going. In a half-hour or so.

Even though, after the day I’ve had, I rather feel the need to soak my head in a big ol’ bucket o’ vodka.

There’s always tomorrow, I s’pose.

G’night.

Dude, is that annoying or what?

um . . .

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): Eskimos of Siberia are perplexed by the changes in their climate, wrote Usha Lee McFarling in the Seattle Times. Thunder and lightning used to be exceptional events, but now they make regular appearances. Bizarre, balmy winds breeze in out of the south. Elders who were once skilled in the art of reading the sky to foretell the weather are at a loss. "The Earth is turning faster," said one hunter. I suspect, Scorpio, that you're having a comparable crisis of faith on the personal level. For you, the Earth may not only seem to be rotating at a speedier clip, but also at a different angle. One of these mornings, you may even see the sun rise in the west. But your situation isn't necessarily as disturbing as the Eskimos believe theirs to be. For all you know, the signs are portents of rebirth. —Village Voice, Rob Brezsny

Is it OK to get weepy whilst reading a horoscope?

Perhaps that's just due to sitting at my desk, at work, on a Saturday. hhhmmmm . . .