There are functional comments again, just for kicks. There are some other dusting and window-washing-type changes. And someday there might also be some new words. In the meantime, I suggest you listen to The Weepies over and over again, which is what my roommate and I have been doing, although not for the several months this has been sitting here moldering.
Judging from my iTunes statistics, I appear to be obsessed with Rilo Kiley's "Under the Blacklight." iTunes is not lying, although it does claim that I am somewhat more obsessed with the song "Close Call" than any of the others. iTunes, I hope you can keep a secret, because I think you might know too much about me.
However, iTunes does not know that I have just betrayed it by listening to a
song off Chris Walla's forthcoming solo album about five times via
Rolling Stone, beyond the reach of its compulsive counting.
It also doesn't know that I shirked my duty to rake the yard today, that I am up past my bedtime, or that this evening I made white bean soup, roasted butternut squash, biscuits and sauteed chanterelle mushrooms without wrecking any of them. It's a good thing, too, because otherwise my dinner would have been chocolate chips and hummus, and I'm not really sure where that falls on the food pyramid.
Some days are sulky, some days have a grin
Wednesday, October 3
Nothing beats a lllloooonnnggg weeekkkkeennnddd: Several days of arising at the crack of 11, feeling no need to be anywhere or bathe before 3 p.m., and making plans mainly on a whim. The house is mostly clean, the fridge is full of food, and the oven has yielded a batch of perfect chocolate chip cookies. Hours of fresh TV were watched. Friends were called, coffee was sipped, and the encroaching yard was sort of beat back once more. Plus, the used album section at
Sonic Boom was so jammed with great finds that it was like a whole bunch of people got together and hawked their music just because they knew I was coming. If only every weekend were five days long and just like this.
You've been planning to remember this
Thursday, August 30
The new Tegan and Sara album sounds exactly like fall -- crisp and sharp and exuberant. It makes me tingle right down to my fingertips, and I think it must play on repeat in my brain every night, because I keep waking up with the words already on my lips.
I shouldn't want the summer to be over so soon, but I can feel the beginnings of fall in the brilliant blue afternoon light and the smell of cold in the morning air, and every time I listen to this album, I want it to be autumn a little more. And I can guarantee that whenever it gets here, I'll still be playing these same 14 songs.
