October 26, 2001 1:48pm
Songs Going through my Head
During my sophomore year a pretentious friend of mine had a stack of books: The Cantos of Ezra Pound, Finnigan's Wake, and maybe some book by Bahktim.
"Do you ever read anything fun?" I asked.
"I'm preparing for my October funk," he replied.
Though I don't have copies of those tomes lying around, I feel as if I'm in the midst of my October funk.
Here is the hit-parade of sings that go through my head these days:
"Everything in its right place" by Radiohead
"Return to hot chicken" by Yo La Tengo
…and embarrassingly… I secretly like the band, though would never tell any of my cooler-than thou hipster friends "Summertime" (I think that's the name. It gets lots of radio play on the alterna station) by… gasp… Sublime
These three songs reflect my present mood pretty well. At least it's Fall again, a time when I can listen to moody music and it doesn't feel out of place.
***
Last weekend Mom and her friend JuiceLover came down to help me fix up my apartment. Since I had complained about my living situation and how my apartment made me depressed to go home to, Mom made it her personal mission to help revive it. I really found myself balking at receiving outside decorating help. The whole idea of my Mom helping me fix up my apartment embarrasses me a lot. It makes me feel like I'm not self-sufficient. That I can't make it on my own. Still hanging shelves, spending a scandalous amount on home furnishings, and getting some lamps in place really can make a nice difference. I actually think I want to have people over. Strangely, the shelves mixed with their ally the magazine file seem to make the biggest difference. All the small papers, spare change, old concert ticket stubs, German road maps, unpaid bills, paper clips, and ancient New York Times Magazines seemed to disappear. They now have plastic containers and their cousins as homes.
LoneStar went out to dinner with us to Fonda San Miguel on Monday night. That was a strange dinner. My Mom, though well meaning, doesn't really seem to have any idea what my interests are. She asked if I wanted to fly up for Phantom of the Opera when they came to town. That was a nice gesture, it's just that I'm not really into Andrew Lloyd Webber or musicals… Earlier that day JuiceLover had leafed through some arty magazine that LoneStar had insisted that I read this article about Gore Vidal. In arty magazine style, there was some pictorial with nude pictures of women AND men… And JuiceLover made some comment on the magazine's raciness at dinner.
In a lot of ways I think that my parents always wanted me to be someone who played golf, had a high paying sales job, drove an SUV, had an over-makeuped girl friend, and liked Tom Clancy novels (if I liked reading at all). I feel like I've disappointed them. Oh well.
Songs Going through my Head
During my sophomore year a pretentious friend of mine had a stack of books: The Cantos of Ezra Pound, Finnigan's Wake, and maybe some book by Bahktim.
"Do you ever read anything fun?" I asked.
"I'm preparing for my October funk," he replied.
Though I don't have copies of those tomes lying around, I feel as if I'm in the midst of my October funk.
Here is the hit-parade of sings that go through my head these days:
"Everything in its right place" by Radiohead
"Return to hot chicken" by Yo La Tengo
…and embarrassingly… I secretly like the band, though would never tell any of my cooler-than thou hipster friends "Summertime" (I think that's the name. It gets lots of radio play on the alterna station) by… gasp… Sublime
These three songs reflect my present mood pretty well. At least it's Fall again, a time when I can listen to moody music and it doesn't feel out of place.
***
Last weekend Mom and her friend JuiceLover came down to help me fix up my apartment. Since I had complained about my living situation and how my apartment made me depressed to go home to, Mom made it her personal mission to help revive it. I really found myself balking at receiving outside decorating help. The whole idea of my Mom helping me fix up my apartment embarrasses me a lot. It makes me feel like I'm not self-sufficient. That I can't make it on my own. Still hanging shelves, spending a scandalous amount on home furnishings, and getting some lamps in place really can make a nice difference. I actually think I want to have people over. Strangely, the shelves mixed with their ally the magazine file seem to make the biggest difference. All the small papers, spare change, old concert ticket stubs, German road maps, unpaid bills, paper clips, and ancient New York Times Magazines seemed to disappear. They now have plastic containers and their cousins as homes.
LoneStar went out to dinner with us to Fonda San Miguel on Monday night. That was a strange dinner. My Mom, though well meaning, doesn't really seem to have any idea what my interests are. She asked if I wanted to fly up for Phantom of the Opera when they came to town. That was a nice gesture, it's just that I'm not really into Andrew Lloyd Webber or musicals… Earlier that day JuiceLover had leafed through some arty magazine that LoneStar had insisted that I read this article about Gore Vidal. In arty magazine style, there was some pictorial with nude pictures of women AND men… And JuiceLover made some comment on the magazine's raciness at dinner.
In a lot of ways I think that my parents always wanted me to be someone who played golf, had a high paying sales job, drove an SUV, had an over-makeuped girl friend, and liked Tom Clancy novels (if I liked reading at all). I feel like I've disappointed them. Oh well.
posted by Zilar Industries at
9:14 AM
