Music worth checking out.

Recently I heard a song by Riceboy Sleeps on the 'Dark was the Knight' CD that's had more than a little attention (at least by the blogs, e-mails, and people I know). It's quite mellow and has a bit of an ambient/Sigur Ros sort of feel. While writing my nightly notebook piece, Riceboy's song 'Happiness' came on. I was then inspired to create a small playlist for bedtime. I'm alone in my bed writing in a notebook with a pot of chamomile tea on my nightstand sort of bedtime.

1. 'Happiness' by Riceboy Sleeps

2. 'Dull to Pause' by Junior Boys

3. 'Music for Airports' by Brian Eno

4. 'Staralfur' by Sigur Ros

5. 'Another Green World' by Brian Eno

*note. i did not add any images to this post because dark knight, aka batman images, kept coming up and this disappointed me. plus, i can't spend all day searching for the perfect image of a cd cover or a man known as riceboy, though he creates beautiful music.

Imagine it. The Bachelorette.

I used to have one guilty pleasure TV show, Brothers & Sisters. It's on Sunday nights when you're just sitting around drinking tea anyways and it happens to remind me a bit of my own family (except we have one mom, one dad, zero mistresses, a me, two sons, and one more daughter). However, when they started airing commercials during Brothers & Sisters for The Bachelor featuring single dad, Jason, I couldn't resist. They couldn't have casted a better bachelor . . . which got me thinking about the next season of the Bachelorette . . . 

Imagine me - as the next Bachelorette.

 

This is probably how it would go down.

The very first night I would stand in front of an aged warehouse in Bushwick. I'd be wearing a vintage floral dress with Doc Martens. In my hand would be a semi-warm Genesee Cream Ale that I would drink as I watch the men pull up in automobiles of the likes of a Mercedes Diesel, the DeLorean, and, of course, the Volvo Station Wagon. All must be technically antique (25 years or older - not the men, the cars). The men would be mostly unemployed/bartenders/artists/etc.  As they get out of their cars Yacht's 'I love a Computer' would play on a cassette tape in the background, so that it is barely heard and a little rough. Varying in weight from 80 - 130 pounds, the men would be over 24, but under 40. Most would have facial hair and be wearing flannel shirts they stole from their father with dark and/or black jeans worn at the seams. 

I'd introduce myself, tell them something strange about my childhood, offer them a canned beer, and then tell them to head into the warehouse.

A few of them would ask for more than one beer to cram into the pockets of their jeans while others would already be sipping on whisky when they walk up to me. Approximately 3 men would turn me down before meeting me and just get back in the car. I would dismiss 4 guys after simply checking out their outfit. 2 would not stop at the warehouse entrance and attempt to steal the car they were given to drive up in. 1 would be driving drunk

and pull up on the sidewalk, vomit in a dead shrub, and then pass out in front of me. Another one would give me a 4 ft' high sculpture of a stereo speaker. 7 would show up at 2 am, though they were supposed to arrive at 9 pm because they know that 2 is when the party starts to really get going. One of these would offer to give me the eyeglass tattoo I've considered.  3 guys would be guys I already met and/or already dated that thought they might like me more since some time has passed. 1 of the 3 would ask me if I made any cookies for the occasion. 

And that's just the first episode.

I stole the Mona Lisa for fun and carefully placed it back in the Louvre without anyone noticing.

Last night I had a casual dinner around the corner from my apartment with an acquaintance/friend of mine and two friends of his. We're the sort of friends that need to be in the mood to hang out, but when we do, we really like each other, except when we don't.

My acquaintance/friend Dan orders a bottle of wine for the table and we start talking, rather, they start talking. 

"Kara just got her PhD in Anthropology at Brown," says Dan. 

"Well, not quite yet, I'm still working on my dissertation, but it's coming along well," responded Kara.

"Ah, my fiance is planning to study Anthropology or Middle Eastern Studies at Colombia," piped Vivienne.

Brown . . . Columbia . . . I still can't spell the school or the country.

"Oh, I have some great friends at Columbia still. In fact, Sylvia's teaching there, no?" Kara chirped back in.

And on and on the conversation went. While Kara and Dan reminisced about Columbia, Vivienne found the opportunity to ask me about my education. 

"Ah, I went to FIT," I replied and quickly changed the subject. I now felt, to put it bluntly, stupid.

"No, no, no, that's where you went wrong," my roommate shared with me upon arriving home and sharing my short story. "You should have just lied."

We started out with casual ideas. "Say you went to Yale or some West Coast school," my roommate suggested. 

But then the gears really started moving. 

I could say anything. I got my MBA at Stern's immediately following my Bachelor's from FIT. I went to medical school when I was a pre-teen. I was inspired my the heroin addiction that overcame me at the age of 9. The series 'Doogie Howser' was based on my life. I performed my first surgery at 15. I was Elizabeth Taylor's one and only wife. I found the cure for Polio. I lived in a polyamorist community in Washington State but smoked away my millions, the first of which I made with more than a few McDonald's franchises before I was 21. I fought the French for a small island known as Reunion a few years ago and won. 

Wish I had it in me to lie sometimes.

Listen to . . .

          

M. Ward on npr here.

Addicted.

Last night I watched the feel good girl movie, 'Me Without You,' a story of two best friends that come of age together - and apart - in the eighties. 

The soundtrack is worth raving about. However, one particular song struck my fancy. It was a song I haven't heard in some time, the sort of song that transforms you into the person that listens to their iPod on the subway platform, singing and dancing to their current selection. The song is 'Just Can't Get Enough' by Depeche Mode. Man. Find it. Get it. Play it. Dance to it. Play it over and over and over. Then take a break as to not kill the song. Eat a banana with honey and peanut butter, perhaps on toast. Listen to the song again. Dance around your kitchen while bread transforms into toast. Sit down while you eat to avoid choking. Dance more. More. More.

The World's Best Rest Stop

As you may know, I was on a bit of an adventure these past few days. I traveled from New York to Philadelphia to Virginia Beach to Rochester (rather, Ontario - a tiny little town) back to New York. Well, somewhere between Philadelphia and Virginia Beach, we found ourselves in Delaware. It was about 10 am. We pulled into a large, empty parking lot. 'Dover Downs', the sign read. I was simply along for the ride, and I like to think of myself as relatively compliant, so I thought, a stop at a casino can't hurt. Of course, I don't gamble, but I do like my super coffees. Nothing like a couple shots of whiskey in your coffee to get you going in the morning. What time is it? No sign of the driver? Pour us another. We start gabbing with the bartender. Life is good. We love the bartender. We love super coffee. We love a fine bloody mary. We locate a carmate. A mother. We love her. She loves a fine bloody mary. We are drunk. We are drunk and it's only 11 am and we're in Dover Delaware in shiny leggings and old flannel shirts. We were a sight to behold, though there was no one there to see, except Bernard, the bartender. We find our driver. The only sober person about to hop in family car. We all have to pee. We exit, after downing a final bloody mary. We get in the car. I speak up, "uh, I have to pee again." We make a trip into McDonald's. We eat french fries, some beef soup, and a quarter of a root beer. We leave. We all pass out. The driver talks about us under his breath as we all sleep - for the nest 4 hours. Happy as kittens.

Hi, Atus.

Word to Atus and the Hindi speaking people of the world. When I started typing today, for unknown reasons, all of the words were instantly translating themselves to Hindi. As I don't have a large Hindi speaking audience, I decided to put it into English.

As some of you might have noticed, I've been on hiatus - traveling the East Coast - without my computer. Just as I got this thing rolling, I skip out on you, but no worries, I'll write more about Atus and our adventures from Philadelphia to Dover Downs to Virginia Beach to upstate New York soon, as in Sunday.