tell me at least six things you may or may not consider personal

If you could find out anything about someone you are dating before things got too serious, what would it be?

Seriously, I need specifics.

My vagina is like Bjork. Sometimes it's just completely inaccessible.

An excellent time waster.

In other news, two of my PCC photos were chosen for the Line Out and the TIG photos of the day. Pretty snazzy!

Love is the answer, until you get cancer

Poison Control Center were just here. They played in a basement smaller than my living room. Within the first song, Devin was rolling around on the floor and smashed the head of his guitar into my (incredibly) scabbed leg and burst it open. Probably the first time I got hurt at a show and didn't care. Cristina gave me like 40 punk rock points throughout the night. I haven't had that much fun in a really, really long time. I took a shitload of pictures. I bought myself a Pro Flickr account last week and I've decided that I'm going to take my photography a bit more serious. So, keep checking back there, and harass me if I haven't updated in a while.

Also, I bought one of these. It's much bigger than you would imagine, and so far, it's been going swimmingly. It's a little awkward to pull out and snap a quick shot, but I managed it at the PCC show. I need to scan those pictures in, because during Police Teeth's set, I managed to get the best instant shot I've ever taken of Chris (there's the classic one I took at the Bathtub cd release show, and now this one beats that).

I like being a photography nerd.

this move seems impossible

http://xkcd.com/386/

OK, I think I need to spend less time on the internet. I almost just completely flipped out at someone on a comments section of a blog for calling all Australians talentless. So not OK. I've had many lengthy discussions with many people before about my love for Australian songwriting. I'm not sure if it's something in the culture, but there's often so much sincerity and honesty in Australian pop songwriting (see best examples the Lucksmiths, the Go-Betweens, and Darren Hanlon). It would be like calling all Swedish music charmless: completely false and inaccurate. Plus, I've never met an Aussie I didn't like.*

A side note from my last post - today I refreshed my gmail and saw the e-mail I had been waiting for for days. So, ha.

* Confidential to Cristina - I never met your ex-boyfriend, but I still hate that fucker.

we stay together out of fear of dying alone

Today I went and picked up Narrow Stairs and the new Old 97 record. Needless to say, it's been quite a while since I've picked up two brand new records that I've been long awaiting and been completely satisfied. I'll skip my rant about about Narrow Stairs is better than both Transatlanticism and Plans combined, but if you run into me in the next couple of weeks, I'll probably ask you what you think of it and get a bit giddy. Even the songs people have been trashing on the internets make me happy (oh dear, 60's pop with sleigh bells and organs and Ben Gibbard stealing Elliott Smith stealing the Beatles melodies?). All I can say is that I'm really glad this record didn't come out this past fall. I would have cried all the way through "You Can Do Better Than Me" and "Your New Twin Sized Bed". (I mean, I still can't listen to any of the new Weakerthans record.)

I can barely get anything done these days. Chris gave me a fabulous CD shelf, just like the one that moved out on me, and it's still sitting propped up against my closet, in the way perpetually. I think I'm just in a slump. I sit around, listening to music or watching tv, sitting with my laptop open just waiting to see if I have a new e-mail. Sometimes I even refresh my gmail account (gmail nerds will know how sad that is). I can't wait until June. Everything will pick back up, and either things will make sense, or they won't, and I'll know. This very well could be the best summer yet. I'm often too fond of creating fictional futures for things that have no basis in reality, so I'm too scared to say anything for sure yet, but this summer could be amazing. All I know is I met someone really awesome who is unfortunately out of town for a ridiculously long time, but he temporarily gifted me his prized boombox portable record player for me to look after while he's gone. I think he gets me.

I've been trying desperately to be an adult lately, but mostly that entails just being kind of lame. No longer do I want to stay out late, and if I miss a show I've been really excited it see, it's not as big of a deal as it used to be. I'm starting to feel old. I'm asleep before midnight most nights, even weekends. I turned 22 very quietly, and it's so fresh my mouth can barely form the sounds without thinking about it first. However, my neighbor told me that there are three things that make you a real adult.
1. Buying a bottle of Makers Mark and leaving it at a party.
2. Buying a brand new mattress (not a used one).
3. Taking a cab to the airport (instead of having one of your friends drive you).

I have done none of these things (I'm too cheap to buy Makers even for myself, I'm too cheap to buy a brand new mattress, and I'm too cheap to take a cab to the airport). Damn my Jewish heritage. I'll never be a real adult.

this gauddy apartment complex

I found this Adrian Tomine comic on the NPR site (thank you, Slog addiction), and it reminded me how much I adore him, far beyond his Weezer poster that I had in my room from Sophomore year on. I've been reading a lot of comics lately, finally catching up (or, barely scratching the surface) on the pile of booty I scored from my dad for Christmas. I've finally tapped into the Locas coffee table sized book, though it's so huge, it's not exactly like I can bring it anywhere with me, so I'm confined to reading it whilst sitting in front of the furnace, desperately trying to stay warm, or "pre-heating" myself for bed, as I do often in the winter.

I threw my back out last night dragging this beautiful, orange 1960's record player stereo console two blocks home. It was just sitting there on the street, in the rain, taunting me. What was I supposed to do, leave it there? I had a brief prelude to later in the night when I realized I have no one to depend on, and dragged it home. I was fine for the rest of the night (minus the panic attack and the crying in my stairwell), but awoke this morning with barely being able to get out of bed. I got work covered tonight, hoping I'd be able to do more work on my new roommate's room, which has been serving as a large closet for the past year and a half, but I'm stuck in bed, listening to music that meant a lot to me years ago/realizing it still does, and catching up on blogs and fantastic feature articles.

Tomorrow the Besties get in, and it should be rad + madness (what does that equal? radness doesn't quite make sense, as I already use that as a word...).

smoking the same old cigarettes

Things sort of fell apart and now I'm listening to 69 Love Songs in completion, which is never a healthy idea.

FYI, case is closed on the boy.

For those who care, here is the mag fields set from the 6th. I'm still trying to track down one for the 7th.

Set 1
1. California Girls
2. I Don't Believe You
3. All My Little Words
4. Come Back From San Francisco
5. Old Fools
6. Xavier Says
7. Walking My Gargoyle
8. Too Drunk To Dream
9. Til The Bitter End
10. The Night You Can't Remember
11. I Thought You Were My Boyfriend

Set 2
1. Lovers From the Moon
2. I Wish I had an Evil Twin
3. Give Me Back My Dreams
4. Grand Canyon
5. Papa was a Rodeo
6. Drive On, Driver
7. The Nun's Litany
8. The Tiny Goat
9. Smoke and Mirrors
10. Zombie Boy

Encore
1. 3-Way
2. Boa Constrictor
3. Take Ecstacy With Me
4. It's Only Time

Friday's show was so much better.

Update: this was just found. It is a very similar set. Enjoy! I'm downloading it now.