Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Mixed Up...

Somehow I fell out of the habit of making mixes for others, and that just made me all kinds of sad, especially considering they have been coming up a lot lately. Don't misunderstand that I have stopped making mixes at all, as that is not the case... but I have been selfishly making them for myself. What a waste! I've always been a believer that a good mix sends a message.

Recently I decided to get back in the mode of making mixes for my friends, with specific people in mind, as I find it makes the whole experience so much more satisfying. Just in the nick of time too, as I have recently received several mixes - just as diverse as the creators. Well, I think that at least, as I only got to listen to one of the two... Rick's mix (I think entitled "Hells Shelbs") was part of the valuables in my purse that got snatched (cock suckers). The other, the one that came annoyingly without a title, was made by my ex, and I've only listened to it a few times... so I haven't formed an opinion of it yet. Mixes from exes are hard though. I have several around the house that survived one of my more bitter breakups (including some that we made together) that I still listen to on occasion. Sometimes those make me want to throw something - or even just throw up - so I have to be in a good head space before I push play.

Anyway, the whole point is, I finally got back into making mixes again, and the latest has turned out pretty damn good. Remember, there are many rules to a good mix, even the ones I keep tucked away on my iPod never to be shared. This one fell into a strange "rule" category, because he's the boyfriend of a good friend of mine, and the whole theme of the mix was escaping me. Not to sound all Nick Hornsby about it, but a mix is a serious thing, man.

"The making of a great compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do and takes ages longer than it might seem. You gotta kick off with a killer, to grab attention. Then you got to take it up a notch, but you don't wanna blow your wad, so then you got to cool it off a notch. There are a lot of rules."

There are a lot of rules! Like, I couldn't decide if putting one of my favorite Frightened Rabbit songs would be taken the wrong way... I say that because the album Midnight Organ Fight is pretty much all about heartbreak and empty sex and I didn't want him (or her) to think 1) that I expect their relationship to end badly or 2) that I myself was looking for empty sex (well, not from him at least).

I know, that sounds stupid, but like I said, mixes send messages, and I certainly don't want those messages to be mixed. I eventually just decided to shut the fuck up and put whatever song I damn well wanted on there, and worry about the more important things like flow and timing. Plus, some of my favorite musicians just happen to always write about love and sex and heartbreak. So, whether you like it or not, I'm putting Brendan Benson on there. (Actually, I hope you do like it, that is, after all, the point of a good mix, having the recipient like it).

I digress.

The thing I truly enjoy the most about making a mix though is that I get to push my current favorites out to others. I have an excuse to listen to things on repeat (you know, to secure the flow from one song to another) outside of the fact that I do it all the time anyway... but you might remember that from another post. Making a mix for someone means you get to really get to know them in a new way. You have to think about them in depth, their likes and dislikes, how those mesh with yours, what kind of mood you want to set, and what kind of mood you're in. It's all very complicated, and yet makes me really fucking happy. Next time you're in the mood for some new tunes, lemme know... I will not disappoint. Unless you just don't listen to the same shit I do... well, then you're obviously screwed because my taste rules.

Snoochie boochies!

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Survey Says...

So my friend Erin tagged me in this bitch, so I'm doing this just for her, though I suspect that Karen, Christina, Adena and Elizabeth will like it too. And maybe even Rick whose a new reader of this ole blog.

Fraking Rules:

1) Link to the person who tagged you.
2) Paste these rules on your blog post.
3) Respond to the following prompts. 

4) Add a prompt of your own and answer it.
5) Tag a few other bloggers at the bottom of the post.
6) Leave “Tagged You” notices on their blog/Facebook
7) Let the person who tagged you know when you’ve written the post.

Yep, pretty standard fare. Don't spend time trying to sounds awesome, you already are... just speak your mind, yo.

1) The best investment you ever made: 
My friends - they are tried and true, and I couldn't do this life without you.

2) If you could’ve written any book, directed any movie, and composed any song, which three would you pick:
Book: The Sun Also Rises
Movie: Singles
Song: The Beatles - "Because", its quite literally my favorite song of all time, though there are several runners up. If I could have made an album, It would have been Fleetwood Mac - Tusk

3) Weirdest quirk:
I'm convinced I've lived many lives and feel nostalgic in museums.

4) One wish immediately granted:
Endless supply of money to travel

5) Most expensive hobby:
Drinking... does that count?

6) An inexhaustible gift-card at which store:

7) In another lifetime, you’d be:
Madame DeFarge

8) The most famous/interesting member of your family tree:
My mom's youngest brother Tim Hopper, he's an actor, and my Grandfather Bill Thompson  who was a notorious mischief maker in Chattanooga, TN. 

9) What would you say to your teenage self?
Shut the fuck up.

10) Which celebrity would you most want to look like?
Look like or be like? Hmmm... maybe Maggie Gyllanhal. I heart her. Or Zooey Dechenel.

11) What would your last meal be?
Gaspacho topped with shrimp and avocado, a grilled cheese sammie with tomato (made by my Dad), and pretty much anything made by my Mom, she's the shit.

12) What's your favorite place on earth?
My bed, Glacier National Park, anybody's front porch with a glass of wine or a cup of coffee and some tunes, your mom's house...

Thanks to Tina for the addition of last and MOST special survey question:

13) If someone made a mixtape about your life what three songs would have to be on it?
"Audiowhore" - Archers of Loaf; "Because"  - The Beatles; "Eyes Like Sparks" - Paul Westerberg

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Sometimes All You Need is an Umbrella.

Especially one in the shape of a samurai sword.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Talking Hard

I knew what was happening before it really happened. The personification of a bad idea, the dirty thought in a nice clean mind. I let my guard down in an attempt to dispel an anxiety built on fear and judgment when I should have listened to my gut, should've walked a different line, kept my eyes open all the time. Turns out, some things have nothing to do with paths.

All they wanted were my things, score some cash and move on, though it feels more like an orange crush than just a stupid orange clutch. I want to refuse to lose faith in my strength, but in this moment I am swallowed. I've been through worse than this. More humiliating and humbling times than this. This is a mere moment among moments full of hatred and its many minions. I don't have the strength to write a letter to love, only one to a shallow place.

Dear Band of Thieves,

Did it make you feel like a man? Like a big-dick man, to grab my things and run? Wearing all black like some night demon out to put terror in my heart. I've battled demons a long time and you won't scare me. I look forward to karma coming back to rip the guts from your yellow belly. I hope someone knocks your goddamn teeth out. Makes that shit-eating grin of victory crack out of your mouth and tumble down your ugly mug. I hope you see my face every morning when you open your eyes and choke on the taste of what you destroyed.

It must be hard to be such a wretched cad. Sneaking up on a woman alone at night to snatch the purse from her hands all for a few cheap bucks... Get a job your delinquent fuck. Drop a sack and earn it because you deserve it, not because you and your dirt-eating comrades have nothing better to do. 

Good luck with your cowardice,

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Hope So Loud

Dear Hate,

Lately I've been thinking about those days we spent on the beach together way back when. All day we were nothing more than flirting friends, then all night we were enraptured. We lay next to each other trying to ignore the sounds around us - the waves, the wind, our friends in the loft above us, our own wet breath lingering in the awkward silence of the cold night air. You gave me the left earphone and kept the right and we tried to drown the noise. I remember you thinking we could sop up the sound of love. Now sometimes when I dream of drowning I wake up with your taste in my mouth. Funny the things we remember, though I don't recall what was playing. Modest Mouse maybe, or something like that. It's blurred a bit and tends to mingle with other occasions that didn't involve sharing mini-microphones. I admit I can't always keep up. 

Anyway, I miss those days. Back then, hope was so loud it was offensive in some circles.

But never in mine,

Thursday, November 4, 2010

In Reply to Love

Dear Love,

Got your letter, thanks for the brevity. Got the deep sigh too. Couldn't say I was surprised, though in truth I expected an eye roll. Things are good, busy these days. I would have written sooner, but well, you know how it is in the dark (or so your letter mentioned). Just remember, every time you think of why that's annoying, it'll remind you not to do it again. Hope that doesn't ruin the surprise- I am quite looking forward to it. Have you heard from any of the sisters lately? I have a few that just won't leave well enough alone... but that's for another time.

Don't doubt I miss you,

P.S. I'm knee deep in it but you're not the shit.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Letter From a Hateful Place

I am in a hateful place. A place that brews darkness despite of the light. I want to explode but have not known how; had dreams of drowning and moments of madness. I hear lines like "You're the shit and I'm knee deep in it" and believe it. I feel fun and funny, fat and fabulous, fucking ridiculous, rabid, rowdy if you must, raw even, as if in a shell (if you know why a sly grin embraces my face, then you know me well)...

I am encumbered by this place, but somehow finding solace. I hate that too. In order to break out, I want to write a letter to this hateful place. A letter from love to hate.

So here goes.

Dear Hate,

As you open this letter, I take a deep sigh. I hope you can hear it. Hear it loud and clear as I sit in my white satin see-through listening to sad lyrics about empty spaces. Things about irrelevancy, about making history. About seeing in the dark, living a farce... hmph, I wish I could say more but it might ruin the surprise.

Hope things are as to be expected, I think of you often. Looking forward to our next moment in time.

- Love

P.S. I would never sign it "Best" though I sometimes wonder what I should say. Anything but goodbye seems right, but let me know your thoughts.