I rediscovered this video today while deleting old files. Taken long ago in a distant, vague past. It makes me nostalgic for nothing in particular.

I won these crazy earrings in a raffle at a cocktail party— my first win ever.

They are made by a local artist, go for 30+ bucks, and I got them with a $1 raffle ticket!

I am wearing them now, and I feel very cool.

My cousin requested a duet from my father and me at her wedding rehearsal, so we pulled this together… barely. my sister recorded the whole business, and watching it is both endearing and embarrassing…. hence perfect tumblr material. Unfortunately tumblr wouldn’t post it, so i had to put it on youtube first. Now I look like a try-hard. Oh well.

(In the first verse I believe I forgot whether it was “pack up your money” or “pack up your bags” —as my dad always mistakenly says—and it came out “pack up your bunny.” Also, I seem to roll my eyes uncontrollably during the harmonica solos.)

bebelestrange:

Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band - I’m The Urban Spaceman

.I want to live on these lines.
.

via http://www.flickr.com/photos/coso_blues/sets/72157604646838887/detail/

Yuri Lane, Human Beatbox: New Harmonica Blues

This is nuts. Put your feets up, Yuri.

Dave Longstreth’s and Angel Deradoorian’s feet on the mesmerizing carpet of the FUC stage.

(Speaking of feet… “Put your feets up” is a new phrase Alex, Jon, and I coined last night. It is somewhat like “Brush your shoulders off,” but with more of a connotation of satisfied relaxation. For instance, to congratulate someone and suggest they have earned a well-deserved, proud rest after an accomplishment such as going to the gym or making a well-received witty joke, one might say “There you go, put your feets up!” Or to answer the question “What have you been doing since your album went platinum last month?” one might say “Oh you know, just chillin… Puttin my feets up.” Feel free to use this phrase and spread its greatness.)

I saw the Dirty Projectors last night. With Alex, Jon, and Fay. At the First Unitarian Church. Vieux Farka Toure opened. It was amazing.

Dave Longstreth has possibly become even more David Byrne-esque in his style and mannerisms. This seems, although debatable, to be a good thing.

This is the best shot I got of him, because I didn’t want to be one of those obnoxious people taking flash pictures every two seconds. Although the mic is in front of his face, you can get a good look at his guitar neck, conveniently marked off at the important frets with blue dot stickers. I believe he had his capo at every one of those positions throughout the show.

I saw Smog last night at Johnny Brenda’s. I was leaning against the stage, cuddling the speaker.

Bill Callahan’s voice was just as crystal clear and nonchalantly profound as ever. He’s been doing this shit for 20 years, so he must be 40 or something, but he looks and seems very young.

I went alone, because it was a Tuesday night and everyone had to work the next morning.

There is something thrilling about being alone in a crowd of unknown hipsters, floating between conversations.

I’ve made it a point to do this again soon.

tygertherapy:

Three Minute Philosophy.

[via Dr. John Muse’s facebook.]

Doggie Hi! Yippie/Last Good Tooth-What’s the Trouble

I’m going to hop back on the Doggie Hi! Yippie Train, but with a weird paranoid reason this time.

I think the girl who says “I’m so sorry, should I stop?” in the beginning background has an annoying voice a lot like what mine sounds like when I hear it on recordings.

I’ve listened to it 12 times now, and I think it sounds exactly like recorded-drunk-hannah…. the gasping laugh followed by that kindof something-in-throat-that-might-be-another-laugh sound with the nasally twinge… Could it be me? Now the other girl’s laugh before this part is starting to sound like Leah.  I may be losing it, but I think this is somehow us.

greatbigboom:

i’m not too into the whole “legalize insert-drug-name-here” thing, but this video is pretty great on a number of levels, not the least of which is the firm, level-headed absurdity of the entire conversation. Our man Robert Mueller, director of the FBI, has some spectacular moments of nonsense and question evasion in the guise of official-speak, and tops it all off with some nearly wince-inducing awkward defeat in the final seconds. also, i love how some word-confusion or some such leads to the theme of parents who have died of drugs.

This is classic.  I think old Bobby originally intended to say something about parents who have lost their children to drugs, but —in his flusteredness— he said ‘lives’ instead of ‘children’. Thus, it came out as a lament of the death of parents by marijuana overdoses. But the interviewer goes right along with it: “oh yes yes, many parents have lost their lives….” AND from there, with another slip of the tongue, it nearly turns into a story of parents who’ve lost their wives to marijuana, which would have been even better.

I also like “they probably started off with milk and went to beer, then they went to bourbon.” Troof.

The Cats- Night Time

Here’s to an old swingin’ tune brought back to life by Liz /Liz’s brother!

Most of Liz and my fun, or any of my fun for that matter, is had after hours… you know, at night time.

what.

thats why I only operate (yea-ea-ea-eah) at night time.

Dirty Projectors- Hyperballad (Bjork Cover)

I used to be obsessed with the original Bjork version of this song.  I have many intricate and fond memories involving it.  I remember Alex’s mom giving me the album Post, because she didn’t listen to it anymore and I was clearly intrigued.  I listened to this song, track 2, over and over again in 5th grade on my flashy, oversized cd/cassettetape stereo machine.  I also remember feeling really cool when I heard this song a few years later on CKY2K, both because I could sing all the lyrics to a skate-video background, and because I was watching a skate-video at all. I remember talking about it with Christina Ruhl in the locker room of our middle school gym, and feeling pretty badass.  I may still have a VHS of that movie, which would be rare because it was discontinued shortly after release, due to copyrght infringements/the crew traveling to iceland and heckling Bjork outside her house (probably their ironic reason for including the song in the first place).

These memories and more have reserved a special place in my little heart for ‘Hyperballad,’ and Dirty Projectors have brought it back to life fore me.  Thank you David Longstreth.

The Black Cab Sessions, Chapter Eight: Bill Callahan

Smog can bring that same nonchalant-but-clear-and-deliberate sound while playing in a moving cab and gazing out the window… fitting.

*
most nights i go for a drive
to the highest place i can find
i’m standing on a cliff with gooseflesh
watching the wind rip the leaves from the trees
*