Mixtape Review.

For my birthday I thought my brother-in-law was going to give me a bottle of whiskey. Instead he gave me a mixtape. I listened to it without checking out the bands or song titles to ensure a fair listen. Here's the review of the CD he titled 'This CD will make you want bong hits . . . or ear plugs. . .'

Playlist

1. Shiver / Giant Sand

2. Don't Leave Me Now / Amparanoia

3. Ninja / Grimace Federation

4. Departure / Yolk

5. Kelly's Heroes / Black Grape

6. Emiliano and Jovita / Cordero

7. Pavement Tune / The Frames

8. Janel / Schleigho

9. Winnipeg / Martin Tielli

10. Chancellor / Gordon Downie

11. Don't Cry That Way / Frank Black

12. Acrylic / Miracle Orchestra

13. Ukranian Technological Faith Dance / Monks of Doom

14. Tell Her Lies and Feed Her Candy / The Sadies

15. Triangles on the Wall / Rheostatics

16. One Everything / Chris Murray

17. White Belly (demo) / Tanya Donelly

18. Obsession (With the Sunshine) / As Human

   About a week ago I decided to sit down and listen to the CD that my brother-in-law, Steve, put together for me. I won't lie, his aged tie dye t-shirts made me a little nervous to give a listen, but I did my best to do so with an open mind and open ears.

   I can't and won't lie. While listening to track 1, Shiver, I was a bit bored and lost interest in the song quickly, though I did not skip through. Track 2 is when he got me. And not only with track 2, but track 3 and track 4. All three featured some foreign vocals which I recently learned I completely love. I like to travel, I like to eat new food, I must like to listen to foreign languages being spoken and/or sung, in this case. Track 5 sounded like track 4 except track 5 was bad. Unfortunately for me, track 6 was worse. Track 6, Emiliano and Jovita, was the worst song on the CD and the only one that truly tempted me to click 'next'.

   Man, I hate it. He got me with a 'the' band. You know, THE Strokes, THE Walkmen, you get the idea (p.s. THE Smiths and THE Beastie Boys don't count in this generalization). Track 7 was The Frames and I loved every second of it. I sang with it. I danced to it. I nearly spilled my coffee over it.

   Ah, then a transition to track 8. It was an odd choice to play next, but I shouldn't complain about the order of the list so much (though it should be considered when creating a playlist) There are, however, certain characteristics of songs that guarantee I'll enjoy it. One is foreign vocals, the other is a flute. My favorite song on the planet is Flute Loop by the Beastie Boys (though I also have a serious soft spot for Ceremony by New Order.) Track 8 was not this, it was Janel, but it featured some flute action and for this, I enjoyed it.

   Track 9 notes taken while listening:

       disconcerning children - feel of intro - bring me down a bit more - or hook me up with one of those bong hits. improves for 10 seconds @ 1:25 - good at 3:55 - starts failing again at 4:10 - really? the ending? really?

   The playlist continues and the songs actually improve - consistently - and then sort of drop. Things worth mentioning: Track 11 made me feel like I was sitting bitch in the family station wagon while traveling to a campsite somewhere in the Adirondacks (note: this is a good feeling reminding me of my childhood.) Track 15 held a steady, mediumstyle pace and for this, I appreciated it. Track 16 somehow captured me again. I don't know reggae so well, but this had a reggae vibe to me. Track 17, no comment. And track 18, I had high expectations that weren't quite met. But then again, I usually set high standards, sort of. So maybe the playing field wasn't fair for track 18.

   I do appreciate the time and energy put into making this compilation for me. I am currently developing a response playlist to be developed and delivered by, quite possibly, Wednesday. In such a case, there may be another playlist made by Steve and this may go on for some time. Or until we run out of bands worth sharing and I just start making mixes of Mariah Carey's Greatest Hits. Steve, it's on.

What if I live all alone.

Word. I've had this idea lately that maybe I should live alone. I love having roommates and people to talk to you when I come home, but they're just a distraction, or even an excuse. Maybe I would get crazy shit done if I lived all alone.

Then, I took this thought to the next level.

What if I didn't talk to anyone, more or less. I would listen, I would interact, but when the subject turns to me, I'd switch it right back on that motherfucker. Sorry if the profanity offends anyone.

So, no one knows what your deal is. You get to take all this action in. And, I'm sure a few of your have noticed, that often times, when you keep real quiet, people totally dish. Or, if you ask just the right question, people spill it, and sometimes they spill it so much that a waterfall magically appears over the countertop. And you can do what you want with it. I mean, I wouldn't blackmail people or anything, but you would get so crazy inspired I think. Maybe I should live hermit style, in a non-hermit sort of way.

I just returned from a walk in Williamsburg.

If you did the whole married with children thing backwards. . .

If you did it all backwards then you'd have a kid before you had sex. You'd have a house after you have the kid. You'd meet somewhere down the road after you had a kid and after you bought the house, and, quite possibly, after you had sex. Before you owned a house, you'd sleep together every night, and after, you'd have separate rooms. You'd be entirely casual before you met and quite formal after you knew each other for some time. The wedding would happen instead of a funeral, assuming you both die on the same day. You'd vacation in Europe after children happened and after you had a house because after all of that happened, you'd no longer be settling down. You'd be more eager than ever to lift your roots. You'd look like shit when you met and get more beautiful as you aged. The more I write, the better this sounds. You'd work late and cheat on each other before you even knew each other, but after you had kids, which makes it kinda bad, but then ok, 'cause you're kind of a single parent. You'd own a mini van when you're in your early twenties and an uber hip, yet pretty cheap, slightly used something in your late forties. Somethings aren't so good, but then again, you'd probably have crazy bedroom party time well into your seventies, maybe eighties, or even nineties. Old people are doing it.

We all care what people think of us.

Recalling my days of youth, it was ok to do wierd things in public. If you're three years old and you lift up your skirt, it's cute, it's funny. If it's your 25th Birthday and you're profusely lifting up the skirt of your dress, it's considered indecent. Somewhere in the middle, we learn what is socially accepted and what simply is not. This brings me to a topic that I've discussed with many people whom live in metropolitan areas. What is ok to read on the subway and what is not ok to read on the subway. This is what I have learned.

It is ok to read biographies about internationally recognized artists. It is not ok to study the images in the book when the images are of special lady parts and there is a small child seated next to you.

It is ok to read NY Times bestsellers on the subway with the exception of 'I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell' by Tucker Max. I won't lie. I own it. But I won't let people see me read it for the same reason I don't tell people I watch a certain reality show about a single dad looking for a wife/mother on Monday nights at 8 pm.

It is ok to read the newspaper on the subway. It is not ok to be writing down the numbers associated with certain adult classified ads found in the back section of the Village Voice.

Lastly, if you want to be cool like me and start reading the dictionary, that's totally cool, though it may confuse a lot of people. It would just be too bizarre to start lugging around a series of old school encyclopedias and reading them on public transit. Don't do it.

Would I? Could I? Am I a polygamist?

I recently started watching HBO's Big Love series. Maybe it was my sister's rave reviews, or maybe it was the abundance of signage promoting the series in my Brooklyn neighborhood, either way, I'm mildly addicted. 

It wasn't until recently that it occured to me that people may think I am inded a polygamist. I did in fact live in a community that accepted a 'poly' lifestyle. I have begun to regularly watch television programming about polygamy. I am often found with my 'roommates', Ben and Giovanna whom are openly dating. Sometimes, the three of us eat together. On occassion, I may be found lying in a bed with both of them. In the summer, it's totally normal to see the three of us riding our bikes on our way to a party, dinner, or other event. The other evening the three of us were leaving a dinner with many friends. Everyone walked out and I noticed Ben's jacket and scarf lying over a chair. Giovanna was already passed these items, so I picked them up, and tenderly offered the scarf to Ben. I held his jacket as he slipped his arms in. Then he looked at Giovanna and I with kind and loving eyes. Giovanna said, "Do you think they know?", rather, umm. . . she said something about how people might think we're polygamists, but we're not, but we could be and it would be cool, though the authorities aren't big on it. 

Gender Roles

When I write, often it's not in a journal that I keep on my old iBook. Most often, you'll find me writing and/or drawing stupid shit in a medium size MUJI notebook. They're like a dollar and they're the perfect size for a month's worth of random notes and sketches. Recently, I finished the last page in one. While scanning through to see what had been on my mind I found a few lovely drawings, one being the fine piece you see here.

Now, the thing is, usually these drawings come along after a bit of freewriting, they're extensions of what I have been writing about. After writing about the joys of peanut butter & jelly, the likes of which do not exist in Europe, I drew this small masterpiece. There are obvious gender roles here. The peanut butter is rather masculine. He looks smooth and a bit confused, kinda like the men I find myself attracted to. Then, there's jelly. She looks sweet and sassy in her heels and mascara covered lashes. She's even sparking a bit of a smile. It simply never occurred to me, peanut butter is the man, jelly is the lady. That's all.