Playlist

What I have been listening to:
I Shall Be Released - The Band
Tell 'Em - Sleigh Bells
Quick Canal - Atlas Sound
The Wild Hunt - Tallest Man on Earth
Square One - Tom Petty
Heart of Gold - Neil Young
Walk in the Park - Beach House
Lonely Boy - King Khan & BBQ Show
Odessa - Caribou

...and also thinking of songs that I will soon cover on ukulele.
SOMEONE SEND ME SOME MUSIC.

Moi, je joue.

Fortunate thing: I have a really awesome camera to take pictures, courtesy of my Uncle David.
Unfortunate thing: Said camera is too fancy for regular drivers, so I can't upload pictures until I get back aux Etats-Unis.

On that note, France is BEAUTIFUL. Really, I can't get over it. There is too much to soak in, and I don't understand how on earth people possibly process everything in less that a month or so. I doubt I will have done a sufficient job by the time I leave here. I've been doing a lot of writing that I couldn't manage to do at home, which is really nice. I take a walk after dinner most nights, which has become one of my favorite parts of the day (aside when we eat cheese after dinner, Chamembert is my favorite), and also the time when my thoughts are clearest.

All fun aside, I have been doing a lot of work. I am taught by some crazy lizard-lady French woman who licks her lips too often and puts on too much eyeliner. We just had our first test. It was BRUTAL, but I guess I am learning French?

We just got back from the Alps, where I, of course, had to do some hiking. It was absolutely gorgeous up there, with lots of greenery despite the cold. We drank out of a mountain stream and I was a total earth child for the day. At the end of the hike we did was this pretty fantastic waterfall with a very strong flow, kind of rarity in the mountains in Texas. Just to prove my inner-Texan, I did the whole thing in Nike shorts, a Phi Delt t-shirt, and a scarf. Pretty awful at first, but the group that went with me moved pretty quick.

Today is the Fete de la Musique, which is basically a day of tolerated street performers. I am pretty excited to see how it all works, even though my host family rolled their eyes and called in the Fete du Bruit (Day of Noise). Speaking of music, my host brother's friend played Kesha on the piano and sang with a really thick accent. Funniest part: "The party don't start 'til I walk in."

Adventures in France

It would be horrible of me to recount everything I have done for you. You wouldn't really care to read all of it and it would be terribly, terribly boring. I wanted to upload the pictures that I took, but it won't let me at the computer lab at the university. I'll try again at home. Contrary to my dad's belief, France is NOT a third-world country. They have all the modern conveniences that we enjoy here, like WiFi and television. I'll make this easier on the eyes and do a list of the thigns I have noticed thus far, and I'll keep this short until I can get a visual.

• The French are very weird about setting utensils back on the table, yet they have no problem just putting bread straight on the table and eating from there, even in restaurants.
• They keep doors shut at all times.
• They walk without swinging their shoulders, which is a really intimidating posture.
• Men are NOT shy about whistling and jeering at you in the street. Women either.
• Cheese is dessert and salad is for after the main course.

Most of the time I've been walking around the city and writing. A lot. I've been doing some reviews (I know, I know) and writing some really sloppy poetry that I destroy almost immediately after. My host family is very sweet, and speaks nothing but French to me. They are patient, though, and have to repeat themselves a lot. They have five kids, but they are all out of the house. The youngest is still in high school, but he goes to a boarding school about an hour away and comes home on the weekends. They have a friend of the family who lives with them while she's going to school, but she is extremely anti-social and apparently works a lot. You almost never see her going in and out of the house.

I love it here. It's very pretty and the people are much friendlier than I expected. Shows that it's too easy to buy into preconceived notions. I miss home a lot, though, but I sent out of my first round of postcards yesterday, and hope to hear back (hint hint).

ACL Sound Off

Alright, alright. Yeah, I know.
THE MF'ING EAGLES ARE PLAYING ACL.
& PHISH, DON'T FORGET ABOUT PHISH, REMEMBER YOUR POCKET PIPE!
Now that you've got that out of your system, let's talk about who else you should be Tweeting about. I'll go ahead and do you a favor by skipping the giant headliners (after noting that Flaming Lips better be doing Dark Side of the Moon in its entirety), and even skip the mid-tier bolded acts right below it. I'll devote this to the very bottom acts that turn into skimmed text rather than new discoveries.

Gayngs

This is a Justin Vernon project, and that should be enough. Who is Justin Vernon, you ask? BON IVER! So while Bon Iver is on hiatus, you should check out this side project. I described their sound previously as an acid trip space ride. Not for publication.

The Soft Pack

I would be more excited about the Soft Pack if they hadn't released a new album.
A. I didn't find the album that moving. I thought it was a really shitty way to launch into indie rock rotation.
B. The Sirius station I listen to played/talked about/interviewed them for what felt like a month. I don't know how much the Soft Pack paid them, but it was absolutely ridiculous.
Regardless, it's a pretty solid band. Maybe they'll play older stuff.

Miike Snow

You've probably all heard Animal, so I thought I'd post the remix. I was kind of surprised to see Miike Snow so far down the list. They got a little MTV play, so I figured there would be some draw. They were also all over the place at SXSW, but according to this random creep I kept running the show was pretty lackluster. The album is excellent, though, so I'm willing to give it a shot.

Bear in Heaven

So chic right now. Saw them at SXSW, but there was a drunken pseudo hippie headbanging next to me. His hair kept hitting me. It was greasy.
I'm going to let this track speak for itself. If it doesn't, let me translate: awesome.

Mayer Hawthorne & The County

Not all of his stuff is so falsetto-y, but it is all that cute. Reminiscent of Jamie Lidell, Mayer Hawthorne is starting the R&B revolution among white boys. Plus, he's adorable.

Lissie

Anyone who can sing like that live, I'm going to see. Lissie got some buzz when Perez Hilton caught one of her many SXSW sets. For one of the first times, I completely and wholeheartedly agree with Perez's music taste. Her voice is kind of flawless.


White Rabbits

Really, this live show could go either way. I could see a lot of infectious energy or a major fail. We'll see?

THE MOUNTAIN GOATS

Maybe it was the Rhapsody commercial, or maybe people have been watching Moral Orel re-runs, but whatever the reason, the Mountain Goats have re-emerged!!!!!!!!!!!1one
I honestly could sit here and type for a long type about how awesome the Mountain Goats are and how I will probably start crying when they come on stage, but I'll spare you. Just, seriously, listen to their music. Do it. Now.


I really don't have much of a beef with anyone on the line-up, big or small, except for Switchfoot. Really? Random, poor choice. Also, Dawes sounds like a washed up John Mellencamp, and not in the good, nostalgic way.
I'm up for discussion about the other tiers, too, if you're interested. :)

Hall of Mirrors

On the surface of calm waters,
trapped in the windows of pristine shops,
resting rigidly on walls –
inescapable reality.

With a single, slipped glance
insecurities are exposed.
It needs no thorough search
to find misplaced hairs and extra pounds.

Reflect, reassess, reappear,
and hope the deprivation
and hair dye made it bearable
to look in that terrible frame.

Lining that proud hall of Versailles
are critics much harsher than nobles.
The mocking echoes wonder
how Marie faced all of those mirrors.




Sorry for the kind of morbid poetry. It's finals week. Positive thoughts won't happen until tests are done. This was written as part of my final sheaf that I turned in last Friday for my poetry class, so we'll see what my professor thought of it.
I am running on so little sleep is stupid. I am tweaking so hard on caffeine that my eyelids flutter when I try to shut them. I have a cumulative history final that is over 1000 pages of reading. I am so tired that I'm sick to my stomach. It's also my least favorite day of the year, when it comes around and reminds me that she's gone.


I'm just ready for Lyon.

1960s Speak

I've been reading a lot of Frank O'Hara lately, so I think that is where the casual, more literal tone of the poem is coming from. I'm not comparing myself to him, I promise, I just think that's what I was trying to emulate.

It’s that pause with beer halfway to your mouth,

to lock your gaze on the invisible,

and your blue eyes glass with reminiscence

(although you would swear they were brown).

That clear blue betrays you, for it shows

your memories like a projector

of speed heads and protests and Pink Floyd,

the time you saw them through dry ice.

When you needed nothing more

than another day in which to exist

and maybe the new Allman Brothers,

with a vinyl scratch discs don’t give.

Your life would read like Kerouac

if you, in fact, had ever read him.

But you haven’t, and you won’t,

you’re too busy living.

My desk shifts aren't always boring

I'm working the front desk at San Jacinto. Saturday desk shifts are the worst. Everyone is running around in the sunshine and I am stuck here in my little box (at this moment I am only 40 minutes into the shift, I am melodramatic).
A man staggers through the door, clearly straining under the weight of an end table that look very similar to the ones we have here. This isn't especially odd. People have been moving things in and out all day. It is around 90 degrees outside, and sweat is pouring down his face.
He walks up to the front desk and sets the table down. He must be in his late 20s, with a full beard, skinny jeans, and a beat-up pair of Tom's - today's prototypical look of a college graduate. He sighs before speaking.
"Hi," he reluctantly volunteers. For someone with such a straight forward look about him, he is being rather hesitant.
"I lived here in 2001. I know, a long time ago. When I moved out, I took this with me," he says as he gestures to the table. "Now - I'm here to return it. If you would like to escort me to the third floor study lounge I took it from, I will gladly put it back where it belongs."
At this point I can't help but laugh. His sudden assertion took me by surprise, and his matter-of-fact attitude seemed inappropriate for something as simple as undoing college shenanigans. I covered my mouth, ineffectively guarding body shaking giggles.
"Actually, you can just leave it here, we'll have someone take it up later," I say after regaining composure.
"Are you sure? Would that be convenient?" the man asks.
After reassuring him several times that it wouldn't be a problem, I opened the door behind the front desk and he brought the table inside.
"Any particular reason you want to bring it back now? Just out of curiosity," I questioned our bizarre re-gifter.
He didn't miss a beat.
"It doesn't belong to me."
But why the sudden conscience? He, at one point at least, had no moral qualms about claiming his souvenir.
For the second time since our encounter he sighed. Not a frustrated sigh. Maybe reminiscent. Maybe regret, but he must have detected my confusion.
"I've had a lot of shit going wrong in my life," he started. "I did a bunch of dumb shit in college, so I'm kind of trying to right my wrongs, if that makes any sense."
"Trying to balance karma, I get it."
He backed out of the space behind the front desk, glancing at the table again.
"Well, thanks Abby," he said, peeking at my name tag. "I'll see you later."
He started to leave and I began to think of the kind of days where I wanted to undo everything in my life, and how desperate and alone I felt. I also thought of the awkwardness of consoling strangers. Despite my generally non-obtrusive personality, I decided he probably needed some consolation. He put his hands on the the door.
"I hope everything starts to look up for you," I semi-shouted from behind the desk.
He turned to look at me with a half-smile, pausing for a moment.
"Me too."