Shortimerz Syndrome

My time here in the Aloha State is on the decline. It's almost May which to me is synonymous with Mainland. I'm looking forward to another summer of crazy parties, music festivals and bicycles. Fingers crossed.

The other day I got to venture to the Big Island... but that was literally the other DAY. Yup, we (myself and a couple workmates) were there for a little less than 48 hours. It sucked everything out of my meager bank account BUT we got to buy papayas at 4 for $1, stay in the hippie enclave of Pahoa where Ning's cooked up the best Thai food I've ever had the pleasure of savoring, met all sorts of Big Island crazies AND swam in a warm spring (a tidal pool/hot spring). The Big Island is the best thing to happen to Hawaii in about 300,000 years.

And like that I'm back on Oahu inhaling red dirt and overspending on Newman O's and trinkets. And every time I watch that sun set I get to itching for the day I hop on the plane and retire from island life. That's not to say that the Big Island is not in my future. There was at least one bar in Hilo with an actual sign of life there. Go figure. Go 'head fool, compute!!

Phantom II (Soulwax Remix 2) by Justice is PUMPING in my earbuds. I'm seeing triple at Bonnaroo as I write this. Thomas Mars just crowd surfed by me again. He's got a tiny pimple on his chin. And barely any facial hair. It's over. I'm driving up north for Osheaga! Crap, it's over. That's okay, I've got Rifflandia 3!! Summer, you must really miss me.

Random randomnositude: My most recent school group at camp, an all-girl 5th grade class that included Dwayne "Dog the Bounty Hunter" Chapman's daughter, had students named Sunshine and Liberty. Is the pakalolo making a come back?

And I sunburned the right side of my belly a couple days ago. Just the right side of just my belly.

To the EAST!

Hippies do it best. Over this past weekend, I've come to revisit the lifestyle I just recently got a hardcore taste of in Tennessee. A bud here in Montreal had this 36 hour party to get to in the Eastern Townships... and I've got a car. It was a dangerous mix. So I invited the girl I have a crush on and she brought her girlfriend. Oh the antics!!

Everything went uphill from there. Had I not lost my tin of Burt's Bees lip balm, I'd say the weekend was PERFECT. Crush and I swam through bottles of hard, hard alcohol (though not liquor). 11.1% Blithering Idiots were chugged, 13.5% Merlot was pounded, and we chased all that good shit with 8.6% Boris Bold tall boys. So we got so hammered by the time the djay threw on Punjabi MC we had no qualms 10 minutes later when the djay again threw on Punjabi MC!!! That's how drunk we were. But did it make a difference? No, because everyone there was zooted on MDMA and even crush's girlfriend was given psychadelic juice at 8am before she hit the hay. Sunday was one massive hangover in paradise.

On the drive back the girls hit the lake. And then we stopped at A&W and I got the highlight of the trip. Me and crush were going apeshit over my iced tea in a chilled A&W rootbeer glass/mug.

Is it any wonder I'm sitting here in front of this laptop on the verge of a major depression now that that happiness is over. It was literally the best trip of my whole entire life.

Alright, anyway, it's off to the Jazz Fest to try and recoup some sanity in good music. Apparently, a Rocksteady show is beckoning the friend who brought me out to the East. Fingers crossed it'll be good.

Oh Canada!

I love Canada! Canadians? Not so much, but oh Canada; I'm pretty fond of thee.

The first of July was Canada Day. The Old Port of Montreal threw a massive dance party with fireworks and shenanigans. It blew my mind. It was so much more fun than the lousy Macy's 4th of July fireworks thing on the East River. At the end, the MC told the crowd exactly where and when we could find them again: July 1st, 2010. The energy was over flowing and everyone waved their Canada flags. I was happy.

So I walked over to St. Catherine's and saw the Jazz Festival in full swing. St. Catherine's was closed to automobile traffic and the whole area was one big Jazz promenade with free live performances too. And the music was nothing to scoff at. It was great! The weather was great. Montreal is a great town. But the people here are a little less than great. I was alone. Even though this was Canada's independence day (or something similar) and Montreal has actually become a jazz festival, I couldn't convince anyone to go anywhere with me.

In Brooklyn I'd have any number of kooks willing to run around to all corners of the city for the corniest of fare. Here, Montreal has AMAZING things happening, all within walking distance, and everyone seems to be avoiding me.

But I love you still Canada. Wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life here. All I really need is you.

And I've come all the way from America to swoon over an American lesbian. Have I hit rock bottom? Almost. Almost.

Okay, so a few nights ago, I'm walking home from St. Jean Baptiste Day (a whole 'nother story) all half drunk at 3-something in the morning when I come across not one, but TWO skunks! The first one had it's rear... reared and ready to spray. The second, a couple blocks later, was frightened to bits when it saw me and looked very sketchy. Why are skunks soooooo scared? They've got barely any predators. And they can hardly see. What's there to frighten these crepuscular chickens?

So St. Jean Baptiste Day is like the national fete of Quebec. It's their sort of Independence Day. That day I hit a bar-b-que and a bridge burner party in Mile End. Fun and drink and crazy, crazy happiness were in abundance. I got invited to an "after party" where I drank warm Carlsberg beer too. All this to walk home and scare the living nightlights out of some skunks.

The story, apparently, is that Quebecois celebrate St. Jean Baptist then protest Canada Day by making everyone move. Like some cacaphonous symphony, everyone's lease in Quebec ends on July 1st, so everyone is so busy moving and not so busy feting. AND!!!! Everyone has to bring their own stoves and fridges and washers and dryers into their new abodes. CRAZY! I am crazy about this town... and this one terribly cool gal who likes other gals. Help me.

2 Live Roo

Bonnaroo! Such an epic start to my summer of 2009. Manchester, Tennessee in mid June is like Mecca in the year 600 or so.

Highlights of this year's festival include a little known band called Hockey, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were sharp. The guitarist, Nick, either broke his electric guitar or it was out of tune for Maps. He ended up swapping instruments and they played the acoustic version. Then he broke his electric guitar at the show's end. TV on the Radio rocked the house. They started the set perfectly by going right into Love Dog. Phoenix is a band full of rock stars. They know what the fuck they're doing. Listzomania is also a very appropriate way to start a show. The lead singer ended the show crowd surfing (right by me). I missed the Crystal Castles who followed Phoenix (I hear their show was even better). Girl Talk finished up. CRAZY! Jessica Lea Mayfield autographed my t-shirt. The Heartless Bastards played a masterful Sunday afternoon set. Moe. rocked until 6 in the am. MGMT was packed to the gills. Booker T. made a fat white guy in the bleachers say "Damn!" And Vertigo made everyone shake like the Parkinson's ward during the '88 earthquake.

I got more shit to throw up here, but this is it for now.

AntiDepressant

This is the worst time of year for me. Admittedly, I'm at my lowest just as the calendar is about to read "December". Thankfully, my people have been aces. Maykin, who I've showered with constant sound advice for the past couple months gave me a ring today just to have me come over and do something. The other night, he bought me some fried rice and we played pool on his dime. I spoke to a good, great, grand friend in Kansas tonight too. It's funny, but just thinking about her puts the biggest, brightest smile on my face. It's weird, but she's a completely platonic friend who I associate with nothing more than smiling. And, of course there are the new folks. The weird short Russian friend of mine who is such a pleasure to be around, or the eccentric organic head with the ornate forehead jewelry and the penchant for ostentatious rings. And then there are my friends who are fairly new, though we're very familiar. Like Jenny, who I love to bits. Or Lindsey, who I only know through iChat but we'll inevitably share oxygen at some point in the future. Good times friends.

A friend recently admitted to me she really wants to quit cursing. I thought about it and responded in a way that shocked even me. Sometimes, I really outdo myself. I told her to keep cursing, citing it's emotional efficacy. These were earnestly wise words. It frustrates the soul when, in speaking to someone, a flat affect or a blank stare meets you in response to your input. However, a failsafe way to ensure a reaction, even though it'll more than likely always be a negative response, is to curse. We know when we curse people respond poorly. But why do we curse? Is it out of habit? Really? Why pick up the habit? I'll tell you why, because we, as people, the grand communicators we are, need feedback. We need to know, definitively, that what we've conveyed was in fact received by our intended audience. It feels good, if even in the subconscious. That's why we talk, after all. To be heard. And nothing elicits a response like one of those forbidden four letter words. From childhood we've been dared to use 'em. And from childhood, it was one of the best ways to NOT be ignored or drowned out. Curse and someone will say something to you. Or show emotion. It's almost guaranteed. Honestly, being ignored has far harsher consequences than merely being looked at as obnoxious because of our choice of language. It shocked me to the point the shock truly has yet to wear off that I was capable of this thought. Man, do I ever give sound advice. Moral of the story, any reaction qualifies your existence. It's better for the spirit to be acknowledged, than to be. I'm not saying the verbal abuse tirade should be a daily ritual, but I will implore everyone to see the value in being acknowledged and chose tactful situations for the use of the lowbrow language.

Today I'm feeling:

qualified

Natalie, from Kansas, and I talked about Kate Tucker and the Sons of Sweden with great glee. For that, today's recommended listening is linked. Please feel free to listen to the new album, in its entirety, for free! Over and over and over again. It's the soundtrack to today's post.

Music is my hot, hot sex

More on CSS! Apparently, they're named "I'm tired of being sexy." You sons of bitches!

Nicole Atkins and The Sea is releasing Neptune City on October 30th. I predict it will be a debut for the ages. I've heard the leak over at mtvu.com and I must admit, it's worth my dollars and I'm a stingy bastard. She's like Amy Winehouse, with less pipes (both the voice box kind and the crack pipe kind).

Okay, off to better understand the Jews.

Today I'm feeling:

shalom

Max't

Just realized that I have 1017 songs on my iPod Mini. It's time for me to get a new one with way more memory. I've maxed out my iPod. Can you believe that?

Good thing I deleted all those Mike Jones songs.

"Mike Jones, who?/
Mike Jones!"
Mike Jones on everything he's ever recorded

Today I'm feeling:

full

...in the double 0 seven!

Read Café's back yard, Williamsburgh, Brooklyn

Word, I'm a '70's baby, raised in the '80's and bred on '90's music. And the genre of the decade? Hippa to the hoppa! The likes of the Notorious B.I.G., Wu Tang Clan, the Infamous Mobb Deep, Nas, Redman and Busta Rhymes made sure the music was creative if not great. Come 2000, hip hop's greatest turned it over to excellent wordsmiths like Eminem and Kanye West.

But hip hop flat lined some time between 1999 and 2007. I don't know exactly when, but I used to buy several hip hop albums a year. I memorized lyric after lyric. I wrote my own. I worshiped the music, man. It was all about beats and rhymes. Then hip pop hits started to proliferate. I guess this sound can best be summarized by the artist Nelly. That brought the decline of rap. Rhythm and Blues profited well from a resurgence, but rappers started relying on R&B crooners to give their records more universal appeal. It might have worked from the money point of view, but the art suffered. And to that end, I'm no longer the fan I was. I'll still fuck with a true artist. I'll buy a T.I. album. I'll fuck with a Boot Camp Click endeavor. But I'm not crazy about any artist in particular. So it was no surprise when I walked past the line waiting outside the Union Square Virgin Megastore to see Kanye west, and went inside and checked out the rock section. It's new to me. But it's artistic, it's warm, it's creative, it's from the soul, it's inspired, and it's everything hip hop hasn't been in about 6 or 7 years.

I saw what I wanted but Virgin is far too overpriced for my tastes. I went to the discount music store and bought The Con by Tegan and Sara who I've recently quoted mercilessly here. Ahem. Ugh. And I love it! The album is almost perfect. These twins really rock out and all their songs are inspired. It's not music to make a buck. The album is also critically acclaimed and is touted as their best of 5 album releases. I highly recommend it. It's worth your bread.

Check their shit out on Youtube. It's powerful music.

"I be trying to chill man, she just trip on some old shit/
women hold a grudge like piss on a road trip"
Sean J on I hate you

Today I'm feeling:

repetitive

Y'all heard this from me before?