Happy Arbor Day everybody.

Arbor day only comes once a year. Spend it well. Otherwise the flora will start seeking revenge. Do us all a favor. Go plant a tree. Take a walk in the woods. Stop and smell a rose. Or some jasmine. Or some dirt. Eat an apple. Pick a wild strawberry.

At the very least, just give a tree a hug. It’s easy, it’s quick, and if you ever meet a hippie, you’ll have something to talk to them about.

Labels: Life

L and I are working at my old hometown library. I haven’t been in here for 12 years or so, and its amazing how similar it is. There’s still the same weird people hanging about, except now they are looking up inappropriate things on the internet instead of in National Geographics. The section marked "Encyclopedias" is still here with its classy Encyclopedia Brittanicas and slightly-less-classy-but-way-more-colorful World Book encyclopedias. They didn’t have excruciatingly slow wireless internet last time I was here, but they didn’t have the internet at all, so I guess it’s a step in the right direction.

Anyway, here’s to you old friend. Here’s to the many hours we spent together in my adolescence. From watching Reading Rainbow in your multi-purpose room after school on Wednesdays, to the flatland BMX demonstrations somehow tied to books, to the summer book safari program, to the unproductive study sessions held in your nasty cubicles where more time was spent flirting than learning. You’re a good old broad. Thanks for the memories.

Labels: Life

I got this song from the behemoth 700 song South by Southwest mp3 torrent. I’ve been listening to iTunes on random at work and deciding which songs stay and which songs go. This is a song that is really on the fence. I tried to delete it a few times while initially listening, but was so transfixed that I couldn’t bring myself to do it because:

a. It is a lullaby to Suri Cruise.
b. It is an honest-to-goodness space-oddity.
c. It sounds exactly like something that DMH would make.

Give it a listen. You be the judge.

Funny Money - Cry Blood Apache mp3

Cry Blood Apache’s Official Myspace

Labels: Tunesday

Suicide Food is a blog that features images like the one on the left. Specifically, ads featuring animals that literally beg to be eaten.

While not all as morose as this mid-century French ad, it is interesting to see how the advertising men seem to think we will feel better if the animals we are about to eat are okay with it.

"C’mon," they seem to say, "We’re delicious. We would eat ourselves if we could. Don’t feel bad. We want you to."

Pigs rubbing BBQ sauce on their bellies. Lobsters willingly jumping in to pots of boiling water. Sexy ribs, winking at us seductively.

I’d feel bad if wasn't true. You are delicious. Thanks for understanding. Wait. The ad-men were right! I do feel better.

Labels: Food

Why is there so much focus on the negative on the internet? This person sends hate mail. Myspace makes kids crazy. That guy is flaming some movie he just saw. Everyone is ganging up on a band of kids who’re just trying to make music.

Let’s take the internet back.

I am filled with affection. That affection is fueled by coffee. I love all of you, all my friends, both met and never met. In person and on the computer. In our same town, and across the country. Thank you all for your friendship. You are all awesome. See you soon.

Labels: We {Heart}...

Only two times in my life have I ever been to a bar where I was given free endless glasses of Chimay on tap. It may seem like a good thing, but it never is.

Last night was one of those times.

Labels: Life

I was running late to work the other day and caught the beginning of Nic Harcourt’s Morning Becomes Eclectic. Now, I don’t normally listen to it (and I’ll be honest with you, when I do I’m usually not impressed), but that day something magical happened.

Thanks to a little man who likes to call himself Richard Swift and a song he likes to call Dressed up for the Letdown, I was catapulted out of my morning fog and musical dry spell into profound joy.

This is what Richard Swift does best. This is why, when we saw him perform for the first time a few years ago, our mouths dropped open. We set out to make music like this; subtle, classic, interesting, beautiful, and fail. Where we unsuccessfully attempt to clutch the sounds we hear out of the ether, Swift lets them alight on his shoulder and twitter their memories in to his hear.

The Buddy Holly influenced knee slapping percussion. The magnificently muted trumpet. The haunted pirate ship choir, swaying, groaning and rattling their chains to the beat.

This is magic.

Richard Swift - Dressed up for the Letdown mp3

Labels: Tunesday

According to Charles Hodgson of Podictionary fame there was no word woman in Old English. All human beings were considered man, and the word for a "female human" was wife.

Later on, people started combining "female human" (wife) with "human being" (man) to get wifman, which is where we get our current woman.

I could think of something really clever and/or funny to say about this, but I’m way too tired. Any takers?

Labels: Etymology

This really has to be heard to be believed.

Clearly Bardot’s strangest collaboration with Serge Gainsbourg, the droning zither/harp from space sounds like it is being strummed with the business end of a hammer. The chorus vocal seems to exist merely as an afterthought, with Bardot yelping the title of the song, placing a distinct emphasis on "tact!" for the benefit of Mr. Echo Chamber.

Close you eyes. Can you see Serge stalking around the room, his feet reaching high over his head with each step, poking and prodding the musicians as they bang on ridiculous instruments from 50s space movies, trying to communicate with "groovy" beings from other worlds? Far out man. Far. Out.

Contact - Brigitte Bardot mp3

Labels: Tunesday

Who wants champagne?

Labels: Life, Religion

Blessed Savior, at this hour you hung upon the cross, stretching out your loving arms; Grant that all of the peoples of the earth may look to you and be saved; for your mercies’ sake. Amen

-- from the Book of Common Prayer

Labels: Religion

In our preverse tradition of turning formerly upbeat and enjoyable songs in to sad bastard music, I present ...

Mouse & the Billionaire - Livin’ Thing (ELO Cover) mp3.

Enjoy.

Labels: Mouse and the Billionaire Karaoke, Music

Congratulations to Drew and Amanda on their new team-member. But remember, just because you outnumber us doesn’t mean you can kick us around.

Now as to newborn questions, I know you have been reading all sorts of material, but there’s probably still some vague gray areas. For example, "How long is it appropriate to breastfeed?" Never fear, the internet has come to the rescue, and according to this woman on YouTube the answer is, "whenever the child decides it’s time." Watch and learn the logistics of breastfeeding an 8 year-old.

Labels: Life

Recently, I got to thinking about all of the great discussions I used to have sitting around various bottles of wine on various porches around (and sometimes outside of) the country. As the candlelight dimmed and the level of wine got lower and lower we would take turns playing songs on the stereo, choosing our favorite new songs or old ones that had moved us, explaining why they mattered. I don’t get to talk music criticism as much any more, but all that’s about to change.

I hereby christen every Tuesday for the foreseeable future "Tunesday," where I will discuss a song that I have been digging on recently. This isn’t Pitchfork or Rolling Stone. This is just one man and his fluid and often-quickly-reversed opinions on music who promises to never use the words "angsty" or "vibe." Enjoy.

Up first: Livin' Thing - Electric Light Orchestra

L is already extremely sick of this song. In fact, there was no point when she found it enjoyable. But I love it. I forced her to listen to it on the way to church this last week because it had been in my head for days, pounding away, reminding me of all that was good in the 70s. (In 1976 it became ELO's 4th top forty hit in two years.) The pop sensibilities, the phenomenal intertwining vocals, the catchy hooks. That singularly great slapback vocal echo on "I'm Taking a Dive" in the bridge. Pure joy.

It was only halfway though the last chorus when I realized she wasn’t bobbing her head and singing in a sexy falsetto like me and Jeff Lynne. No. She looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. No? I tried to extol the virtues of the orchestration, it’s obvious influence on current favorite, Of Montreal, the perfect ending-credits-of-a-movie quality to it, but she was having none of it.

We came to an agreement. She doesn’t have to love ELO like I do, and I don’t have to love Blondie like she does, but there’s still a little part of me that wishes we could drive off in to the Arizona desert on our adventure to discover the world, hand in hand, a St. Christopher hanging from the rear view mirror, and, as we drive out of sight, a chorus of voices grows softer and softer patiently reminding us

Its a livin thing,
Its a terrible thing to lose
Its a given thing
What a terrible thing to lose.

A man can dream.

Labels: Life, Tunesday

Finally.

Now if only the Dodgers can come back and score 8 runs in the top of the 9th. (note: it didn’t happen)

p.s. The results are in, I sent East of Eden (movie) back to the Netflix. I will read the book first. Thanks for your advice and suggestions.

p.p.s Thanks to Killer Jen for pointing me towards the Baseball Reliquary, a traveling exhibit of baseball history and wonder. I will see this exhibit:

The Baseball Reliquary presents William Robert Steele’s Ebbets Field Replica, an exhibition of Jackie Robinson paintings, and a display of Negro League memorabilia. Jackie Robinson Center, 1020 N. Fair Oaks Ave., Pasadena, CA.

Who's in?

Labels: Baseball