drizzling soggy days and oklahoma during tornado season, thunder thumping down on the eaves, good acoustics and the roof sounding dangerously thin, vegetable aversion + meat and cheese only kind of girl + mad frozen pizza skills= i eat like a frat boy. boys in hot glasses or mussy hair or ratty converse or some kind of distress. shoving myself into a book and not coming up for hours. the way that if you're smoking and using a camera at the same time, the camera happens to record the trails of lingering and stagnate air. good ads in between bad shows, proving we don't have to dumb down our culture for all the idiots out there. using my hard wood floors as a dance studio, and always music as an escape. NAPTIME! yes love me some naptime. sleeping on the subway for me is like new parents driving their fussy newborns around to get them to sleep: it's like the "white noise" version of moving. the english language and how i'm still untangling it. i also have serious ties with the word "y'all," which is like a dichotomy to the former statement. complete oral fixation candidate: how my fingernails are just delicious and kissing, what do i love more than kissing? once upon a time i was the kissing bandit, actually, you might have heard of me. the freckles that hang out on my skin, A-1 steaksauce the answer to every condiment question you could have, really stellar typography showcasing really kick ass writing.
feist, bright eyes, a few of jack white's dead-on lyrics, pinback (just over and over, please), really old stuff by spoon, sigur ros and mum give good icelandic, joni mitchell's painful piano, frank black and the new house of the pope. for rufus wainwright and "oh what a world we live in," air, massive attack, d.j. shadow, fucking elliot smith and cat stevens, and all kinds of depressed drug addicts like nick drake and jeff buckley, magnetic fields, her space holiday and that line "suck on my fingertips until you kill all the prints...so your boyfriend has no clue of how much i've been touching you." citizen cope has the two groovy little songs i couldn't shake for awhile, some awesome 80s influenced by other people, like how journey does it for my brother and see also "we built this city" by starship. tears for fears. supreme beings of leisure and zero 7, for sure, THE motherfucking CURE and any score done by thomas newman. calexico, lemonjelly "the staunton lick" that should roll with me like a shadow on good days and be my theme song, ike reilly, dogs die in hot cars, death cab/postal service which i went queer for, for like six years but will never take back because the cd "give up" changed my life. see also, that time i met ben gibbard, which i'll never not mention.
don't worry, i spent a lot of time being a film dork in college when i studied for the film dork minor. i will admit that i've taken a strange hiatus from movies in the last couple years. are movies and i in a fight? anyway: state and main and any movie where william h. macy gets to be an ass, the virgin suicides, the wes anderson trio of bottle rocket (dignan), rushmore (max fischer), and royal tenenbaums (where's buckley? buckley's dead.) quentin tarintino, my coked up muse: pulp fiction and the kill bills, specifically getting buried alive in my theatre seat. the genius of christopher guest: guffman/best in show, mean girls with amy poehler whom i JUST SAW in nyc, the editing in eternal sunshine that is, like, gorgeously done, american beauty which has never once not made me cry, the graduate which is so classic and creepy, how amelie reminds me that i have studied way too many years of french to not really speak any. anchorman, old school, drop dead gorgeous and all those minnesOHtan jokes, the first hour and the last ten minutes of fight club, and all that narration that comes straight from the book, being john malkovich. lots of subtitled stuff, anything adapted by charlie kaufman, dark undertones, well-written romantic overtures and crawl under your skin, climb up your face musical soundtracks.
arrested development will now shine as the proof that things that i love often get taken away from me. i blame the people who keep 7th heaven on the air. project runway, every time, Lost which has made me believe in what my loved ones are saying (enough to watch like 50 episodes in 20 days, yeah?), standard humor guide-book stuff like seinfeld, simpsons, family guy, south park, reno 911, home movies, (most adult swim, for that matter) jeopardy!, the match game on the game show net, and some reality shit i don't really wanna talk about...like the girls next door on e!, with the playboy bunnies.
i just can't shake kurt vonnegut, whom my stepdad has met several times and even stood next to at a public urinal: breakfast of champions, etc. but timequake is my favorite. i loved jonathan saffron's everything is illuminated, and recently went through several crying bouts during extremely loud and incredibly close. that book exhausted me. lolita, kite runner, confederacy of dunces, the curious incident of the dog and the night time, aldous huxley's brave new world, i went through a long and dark silvia plath phase (not really involving the bell jar, but it is a great book), also i like edgar allen poe a little much to be considered normal, some good david sedaris, agatha christie- and then there were none-on record as my favorite, wayside school is falling down (that's right, i threw in a middle school book just to scare you), hemingway, j.r. irving like world according to garp and a prayer for owen meany, i'll say hey whipple, squeeze this just to get a groan from all my ad homies, c.s. lewis: the screwtape letters and mere christianity, a heartbreaking work of staggering genius, go ask alice.