Monday, February 28, 2005

go 'way


Bah. I won't mind if these sad twigsters melt away. Just like my doomed and icy heart. Dammit winter, go away. There's only so much of my blahs I can blame on the weather. Or give me a tiara and we'll call it even.

work hard play hard, but eggs over easy

Some more Fiona Apple tracks floatin' around the ones and zeroes. Check 'em out chez productshop. Boo Sony.

Any chance Dukies get, we mention that we work hard and play hard. This unoriginal motto has little to do with ipods or jello wrestling, and yet here it is in this fond, sepia-toned look back and hard-boiled egg analysis of the class of 2008's free ipod deal. I know a free ipod would help me play better basketball and be a fluttering social butterfly and host just perfectly lovely like a crystal teardrop dinner parties.

Spent a nice day at the gates in central park on saturday. Let's see if there will be any rolling balls of hay (what are those called?) whistling across the desolate paths this week after all the jolly people have departed the land of christo. Also saw a movie called Turtles Can Fly. More on that later.

And did you know, Marie Antoinette really said, "Let them eat brioche!"? At least according to wikipedia though I don't know how reliable a group-edited encyclopedia is. Who cares. Le brioche est le yummy and will now be my new term of endearment.

Friday, February 25, 2005

we all live in our lucky tangerine

When I was young and bright-eyed, I liked being handy with the pretty paper and scissors and glue. And I confess, I was a font-nerd. Those days have faded away, through years of sunlight and the grit of mundanity. Yet here I am, not driven to actually create things, cuz that would require work or thought, but still staring wistfully at greeting cards at stationers, the lovely papers in paperies, even the nice little curliques that I found quite pleasing to the eye - if a little surprising - during the nba allstar game. You can always catch my heart on a nail, snag my aestethic tooth with some curliques.

So it's no surprise that I really love the general aesthetics of lucky tangerine design. Simple, elegant, whimsical. (If that were an acrostic, that would spell out S-E-W. Ah, you don't miss much, gentle reader.) Lucky Tangerine has designed menus and other such things for Lassi, which are quite lovely and you can see those things and other examples of projects on their site.

Lucky Tangerine also a) sounds like it could be a code name for spies, but for a rookie. b) can insouciantly be inserted into the lyric line - we all live in our yellow submarine. but then so can "purple soup tureen" and probably a number of other things.

As we're on the subject of purple soup tureens and opera pork and beans, here's the graphics answer to mp3 blogs -- font blogs!! fontleech --- (via LHB)
Plus, the homes of many many awesome and gorgeous tiles/backgrounds, citrus moon and squidfingers

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

the style beat, otherwise known as bulgogi

Courtesy of a fellow 'sistah', (bulgogi sistah that is), I bring you this juicy marinated beefy tidbit of cultural relevance:

S. Korean homeless best dressed!!

Sniff. I think I detect a twinge of motherland pride. Best Dressed! We're right next to best smile and most likely to succeed!

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

fleeting fleets


Took a little walk through Central Park to check out the Gates in their orange, I mean I'm just mad about saffron, glory. It was a weird cloudy/sunny day. I guess in weather terms, that's partly sunny. Or is it partly cloudy? Wench, bring me more cake and make sure this goblet remains ever half full of cloud and half empty of sun!

Ah, the Gates. It almost sounds like a little condo community doesn't it? Maybe for retired people. Anyways, it was nice. But mostly because I was outside in fresh-er air than work, where all of a sudden one of the hallways has started to smell suspiciously like pee. (Opera Pee?) I'm sure there's all this buzz and clatter (buzzatter) and how! I have little else to contribute.

More interesting than the Gates themselves, of course, were the people who came to see it, crowding out the regulars in this southwest corner of Kingdom of Runners and Dogs. I especially liked one child in a stroller crying out in near-panic to his nanny, face twisted in the kind of agony only a child can muster, "I don't WANT to stay here FOREVER! Can't we leeeeavvvvee?!?" while a couple feet away, a Head of Family blusters, "Go over there so we can take a picture and pretend you're enjoying yourself!!" with commanding, smallish authority. Well. At least some people are looking at the park.

I've been thinking of getting some St. Johns Wort. (Do you like my transitions? I'm such great English tutor material.) I hear it's a good natural depression fighter. Now I don't remember where I've heard this. You forget those kinds of things yknow? Cuz lately, or I dunno the past couple years, whatevs, have been like when you're at work and you click and click and click reload on your email thing and it comes up with nothing new again and again and again and again and your eyes travel to the corner where that time is kept and wonder how you're gonna make it through. Where's my cake? Have you eaten it too???

Friday, February 18, 2005

dairy substitutions

I had wanted to check out Keren Ann at Tonic yesterday but she'll be back in town at Joe's Pub in March I think. There are always these female singer-songwriters, hanging out, writing their tunes -- so many of them, it seems, though thank cream puffs, cuz dammit, if you want to sing along to bands and stuff, it's always boys boys boyz. Problems of numbers of course is sifting through the flour of these alternately cool-voiced, quirky, folky, mellow, ironic, piano and guitar-backed story-tellin' ways. Many are smart song and lyricsters -- so what stands out? Any recommendations?

Anyhoo, instead I had to check out some claaasssical moosic for workish purposes, so I heard the NY Philharmonic yesterday. And thank goodness. Cuz they rocked my socks off with the 2nd half of the program -- Stravinsky's Firebird. The melodious stuff lingered and oozled around like smoke from the cigarette of an enigmatic, dusky seductress who's lurking in that imaginary bar of yours (not mine though. i'm just nursing a drink in mine) and the bwaamp bwaaamps (those are technical classical terms) thrummed and thrilled and it's really really seldom that I've heard any orchestra get that loud and intense. Rock.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

you're not in this movie

The foxy public demands some moments spent on Ong-Bak, which I saw over the weekend at the movie theater. It was basically insane. Not like "Oh, let's try 2% instead of skim in my coffee today"-insane you sad poor moppets. Insane insane. Like fighting with your legs flaming on fire insane. I know, I know. Plot spoiler! But when you see it, you'll still say in spite of everything, "That man's legs are on fire. And he's still going after that bad guy!" -- maybe in not such awkward, inelegant sentences, but all the same...

The story barely matters; the movie is basically a list out of some brainstorm session for the star, Tony Jaa playing Ting, the good guy, to show off his Muay Thai glory. Muay Thai is a Thai form of martial arts, which uses lots of elbows and knees for maximum ouchies. Supposedly there are no digital effects or wires or anything. I'm not a fan of the genre or anything, but man, thoroughly entertaining wowee after zowee. Here's trailer and an interview.

Also watched Kurosawa's Ikiru (Doomed to Live) and Fellini's La Strada (The Road) which were incredibly deep and affecting. I love allmovie's "mood" descriptions: 'only human' 'in a minor key'. Both films are haunting me yet.

Leave me paralyzed love.

Monday, February 14, 2005

by the by

There's nothin' wrong with a little love and a little funeral. That's life.

Pitchfork interviews Win of Arcade Fire, my lovely hypester canadian-some chickadees.

le weekend

One thing that is startling to me about the working world is how everybody wants to know, damn near desperately, how your weekend was. And I wish I had that certain combination of cheekiness and easy charm that doesn't curdle to tell these fine people some fine stories about my fine -- think 1920s summertime and the livin is easy, great gatsby type rich, voice full of money never take responsibility kind of fine -- fine, life.

P.S. I was going to have a li'l essay: How I spent this weekend. And it would be about some movies I saw. (A movie a day makes the scurvy go away). And how I saw Parker Posey on the subway. How I didn't see The Gates and how "saffron" looks suspiciously like orange from the unreality of real photographs. And it would all be tied up in this poignant little remark that maybe would involve the word "tragicomedy". But I'm very tired and suffering from disenchantment, and would be accompanied by light banjo. I've never had a dream about being left-handed.

Friday, February 11, 2005

tea, a rearrival of my health


Well, now that that hussy has stolen that dreamy horse of a prince away (blaugh!), we, like the British public, can concentrate on more important matters. Like tea.

After having a lovely meal and my first turkish coffee at the hummus place, we discovered a hidden pink jewel of a place. Pink Jewel could be a grrl-rock band. And to be ironic, everybody would wear orange. And then there would be this big fight because the singer wants to be more serious and literary when in fact she's really sleeping with the drummer's best friend's ex! And then Jewel would come in with her truck and her snaggle tooth and sing some R&B. And that would be weird.

Somebody always steals my ADD meds. Anyhoo, Sympathy for the Kettle, a whimsical, if clever, name -- on St. Mark's between 1st and A -- is just lovely. The people who work there were friendly and unsnooty, the tea selection excellent, and from looks, the desserts and pastries looked delish. Thursday seems to be a quiet night, but that added to the charm and cosiness and my solitary mood, with the radiator doing that squeeeeeeeeeeee pressure noise, the banter of the people working and customers, and the fuzzy jazz (and bjork) lingering in the air. I had a nice pot of peach ginger tea, which came with a little pot o' honey, and read my book and felt the peace, yo, and emerged from the teashop not hating the world. Sole comfort.

This entry is dedicated to foxes who, like my mother on a good day, offers encouragement and steely inner strength

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

names that shake


Friends, when I come across genius and inspiration with a dash of bunny perspiration, it would be wrong not to share. To that large, never-ending question of: Is classical music dead? Anya would be scared, but here is your answer. BUNNIES!!!!

Not only that, it's Esa-Pekka Salonen up there. He, like CSI's Melina Kanakaredes, has a name that sounds like maracas shaking.

So, while you can get your bunny fix at a flaming lips concert, now you can clap your hands, let some angel-bunny get her wings, and believe. Believe in the maracas.

Thank you, Alex Ross for helping me rekindle my hope.

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

one more candle


One more candle blown out. Well, I'm still sitting here, waiting for my enlightenment, with the always sneaking suspicion that it'll never arrive. Stuck in traffic of all the other imaginary enlightenments... or having a freaking enlightenment party with champagne bubbles of sparkling conversation and snooty laughter and maybe some limbo. Yes, I've hit the 2-3. Fine, I'm still youthfully exuberant fresh-ruddy faced, clapping my mittened hands, and expecting things to batman-sound with a pop whap zoom! in front of splash marks and bright colors! ZPLAT! DIRECTION IN LIFE!!!!! ... easy peasy!

Oh my sillies, I'm just being a big, contemplative, drowning in my own pool of tears whiner. I had a lovely time on the birthday eve (hitting up funnily named places like alligator lounge, zipi zape, the dove) and morn [gorgeous red velvet cupcake from hope & union ] with the bestest of friends and traditional roast beef (mom's new thing. how korean!) dinner with the fam and the cousins galore.

It's a little true, how after 21, the ages aren't stages or levels anymore, like in a video game, where you get like 3,000 more coins or 2 more extra lives or a cool new weapon for your arsenal to kill the evil droids (ok - is it clear that I never had a childhood and have no clue what i'm talking about?).... And past that fuchsia-colored age of 21 (which the younger deem impossibly OLD, the young deem 'let's get crunked!!', and the older deem impossibly young naive and emit waves of bitterness), the ages become markers you whiz by on the highway. Or crawl by. Depending on the traffic. On the highway to. Um. Death. The stages where you get and lose stuff become not dependent on age (no matter what your parents think!!!!!! no despair!!), but on the event themselves. FWOOSH! HUSBAND!! BLAM!!! (and many drugs later) BABY!!!! UNEMPLOYMENT!!!!! DISEASE!!!!!!! MORE DEATH!!!!!

Cheery today aren't we? But finding many of my friends embarking (well-deservedly) onto clearer paths or at least clear bridges between paths, I'm feeling the all-too-familiar 2004-like feeling of being stuck. Another crossroads and nobody to take my hand and guide me across the way (to where?). Watching the old ladies being helped across the street, the blind by their smiling but sturdily responsible seeing-eye dogs, the Enlightenments who drag-race with abandon and glee taking little notice of the human race.

In the boiled-down to end, all you have is yourself anyway, waiting for the bus, the hand to lead you, the ear to listen. All that's left is you, on the bench.

So what do you do?

Thursday, February 03, 2005

a fire like whoa


Arcade Fire at Irving yesterday. Crazy awesome. More later... maybe. Took awful pictures with mah shiny new digital camera (like one above; Win has no face.) I have no clue how to use the thing.

brooklynvegan , as always, for goodies - soundz and links. Also resounding yes for why Irving show way outrocked Webster Hall.

daily refill has video clip of david byrne singing "naive melody" with the lovely hypesters of the season. i think it was posted like within an hour of the show. you crazy bloggers you! (toothy grin)