Proper Glow translated one of my articles into Korean. I think it looks pretty.
want: fieldcandy spacious tent
ME: Eloquently put.
HIM: That’s great because I’m so fucking high right now.
jam of the day:
Alpine is this buzz-ey six person pop band from Australia, and this jam of theirs, Villages, is, I believe, the best track from their very good debut album A Is for Alpine. (Which I snagged a preview copy of at work, only to have it fall out of my purse while at the checkout counter of a Best Buy in the Valley, at which point I had to convince the checkout lady that I wasn’t trying to steal the CD because that is the very worst thing to have fall out of your purse at a Best Buy.)
Don’t worry though. She was cool. I didn’t get arrested.
Anyways, I love this song because it’s light and (forgive me for using this word but I think it applies here) effervescent. And I like that the shimmery sound is juxtaposed with vaguely heartbroken lyrics. Most of all, I like that it reminds me a lot of Wilson Philips.
I’m so glad dubstep happened, because now young white guys really have something they can get down to on the dance floor.
—My sister Candace, while we were dancing at a Knife Party set (in Vegas, in a pool) late late Sunday night
I had never been to San Bernardino’s lovely Glen Helen Regional Park, and I guess I still haven’t because when I went there on Sunday it had been officially renamed in honor of Mumford & Sons.
I’ve casually enjoyed this band since Sigh No More, but I had no idea that these four dudes had the power to pull a 45,000 (guesstimate) person crowd to the center of the Inland Empire on the school night. Still, that’s exactly what happened, and after seeing the show I fully understand why. It’s big, joyous, cathartic music, this stuff. Comforting, accessible, thematically grandiose yet relatable. Like, when they sing, “I really fucked it up this time/didn’t I my dear,” I have to imagine that that felt somehow personal to everyone in the crowd, whether they want to express that sentiment to someone or have someone express it to them. (I want both).
I brought my 12 year old gal pal Grace to this show, and we had a damn good time roadtripping and listening to tunes in the car and eating kettle corn at the venue and singing our hearts out to Dust Bowl Dance (my personal favorite) and The Cave (her personal favorite). We got home way past our bedtimes.
I did so many things in May, but they didn’t include writing much on this blog. I wasn’t just laying around eating burritos all month though, (although a girl can dream). Mostly, I was traveling. I went to New York for Buhman’s bachelorette party which included exactly zero penis straws, several epic all time great dinners, two nights of sweaty dancing in the meatpacking district and in Williamsburg, many long walks, one afternoon lightning storm and a thousand other things that I’d love to tell you about so if you want know more just call me or something.
Then I went on a cruise off the coast of Seattle with Lo, and it was lovely for several reasons including free food, free booze and the fact that I was doing all this eating and drinking with Lo. Hanging in Seattle after with her and Sam and Laura was also marvelous. That city is lush as fuck. Then, I flew home, swapped some clothes in and out of my suitcase and hopped on a plane the next morning to Vancouver, where I spent nine days wandering around Stanley Park and Gastown and Yaletown and Granville Island.
Then I flew home and put all of my records and books and jeans shorts in boxes and moved out of my deep valley apartment and into a house in the center of town, where I am currently sitting drinking coffee and listening to Hernan Cattaneo.
During all of this, I wrote some stories about music. Here they are:
I wrote this story about ayahuasca and its presence in mainstream music, which elicited this tweet from Father John Misty, who is referenced in the piece. I do not think Father John Misty likes me. I guess that’s fine.