Garden Statements

Oh! I wrote this month's NBC blog about Alice. I keep thinking about her, and it felt right.

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Why did no one tell me about Nick Drake earlier?! And I have to go and learn these things from books. Just kidding; there's no better way to find out about cool things than through books that are made of fiction, based in reality. You feel like you've been let in on a best-kept secret. Most fitting that I learn about Nick Drake through Nick Hornby.

(speaking of Nicks, Nick Turner called me a pixie yesterday)

Listen to the Drake here. Zach Braff went googly-eyed for this guy. What's stopping the rest of us? Besides Zach Braff forcing his tastes on us, I mean.

Enough pop references! The new haircut. Well; it has returned to its natural, free, curly, unkempt state. My head looks like some kind of microcosm of chaos, but hey, I'm not apologizing. What you see is what you get!

I am still obsessed with the psychology behind mass emails and the reply-all function. Especially when those mass emails concern comedians. It immediately turns into a WHO DA FUNNIEST competition, arbitrated by no one because no one cares, and yet the ones duking it out with slams and counter-retorts care far beyond what is appropriate for a weekday afternoon.

I'll give you a completely random example!

Sender: FooBear
Recipients: ChooBear, RooBear, GooBear, BlooBear, GlooBear
Subject: Has anyone seen my socks?
Body: Well?

1 minute later...

Sender: ChooBear
Recipients: FooBear, RooBear, GooBear, BlooBear, GlooBear
Subject: RE: Has anyone seen my socks?
Body: I'm wearin' em!

30 second later...

Sender: RooBear
Recipients: ChooBear, FooBear, GooBear, BlooBear, GlooBear
Subject: RE: RE: Has anyone seen my socks?
Body: I put one over the doorknob. You know what that means...

2 minutes later...

Sender: BlooBear
Recipients: ChooBear, RooBear, GooBear, FooBear, GlooBear
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Has anyone seen my socks?
Body: I love socks. You could say I have a sock-shual feetish. However, that's just my two innocence.

1 minute later...

Sender: RooBear
Recipients: ChooBear, FooBear, GooBear, BlooBear, GlooBear
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: Has anyone seen my socks?
Body: You guys! I meant, I have a girlfriend now, and I am getting sweet action!

30 seconds later...

Sender: GlooBear
Recipients: ChooBear, RooBear, GooBear, BlooBear, FooBear
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Has anyone seen my socks?
Body: UNSUBSCRIBE.

1 minute later...

Sender: ChooBear
Recipients: FooBear, RooBear, GooBear, BlooBear, GlooBear
Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Has anyone seen my socks?
Body: I think you just got your answer, FooBear. Gloobear is clearly guilty. BURN, SON!!!!!!!!!!

If you find my example tragic and telling, you should see my inbox.

Speaking of tragic and telling, there was this womanface at this comedy show last night who proceeded to make a face and a snide comment indicating how she felt after every single one of everybody's jokes last night. I'll give you a hint. Most of the comments and faces were negative.

I don't even understand what this person would be like in real life. Oh wait, still annoying. Guess that answers that life mystery. (I'm such a jerk! HeeHoo!)

Affirmation O'Death

i discovered a beautiful band yesterday―they describe themselves as gothic/country/punk, and as sounding like "steam train, wet soil, bad dog, dried blood, knock kneed, blackgrass, rickety fence teeth, men with beards."

oh, i thought of another way to describe their sound. it's perfect music for a goth BBQ.

the lead singer's voice is a diary entry that embarrasses you to read, yet you frame it in a public place as permanent constant proof that life is capable of producing such a sublime slip of grim crackle.

photo courtesy of Maryanne Ventrice

all of their songs ended in wild rusty forgotten roadhouse stage cavorting, and the main guy asked if anyone had a place for five people to sleep that night in D.C. because they didn't know anybody and had never been here before. i trust they got more than a few invites after their set.

oh. also there was a ukulele onboard; othar the tooth collector is on bass; and there's a guy in charge of whooping.


photo courtesy of Maryanne Ventrice

the music critic makes you roll your eyes affectionately in solidarity...

Brooklyn's O'Death shares some commonalities with a shootout that winds up leaving a saloon worse for wear and without a single glass capable of holding any liquid. The band is like the cry of a cougar and the sharp, invigorating pain that would be produced as a glass was smashed into your forehead.
~Daytrotter.com

P.S. they were opening for the also-lovely Murder By Death (with a cello, hey hey hey!)