Friday, January 23, 2015
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Love the smirk and stomach.
Nothing better than a Bike jock.
I had someone ask me to remove a picture of someone from one of these posts because they didn't like the person. Um, no.
It would be nice to have the means to actually take a winter vacation to somewhere warm and sunny.
Good expression (taken from my friend Chris H): "She's as lost as last year's Easter egg."
I'm at that stage in a project where I have absolutely no idea what I am doing.
Andrew and I started watching The Blacklist. So far, I am really enjoying it. I am just hoping it doesn't get bogged down in a similar story line every episode.
The new Bjork album is pretty great. Her work with Arca and the Haxan Cloak is beautiful.
I am very ready for this week to be over with.
Finally, it seems like new music releases are starting to come in. Usually the first of January is like a ghost town.
There is a thin line between stocky and fat.
The first Eve has nothing on the sins of her present namesakes.
Billy Crystal says he doesn't want gay sex scenes on television and movies shoved in his face. Well Billy, I don't really care for straight sex scenes shoved in mine.
I miss warm weather.
I really don't want to have to wait until April to see the Wolf Hall miniseries.
Is it bad that I use the birthday notifications on FB as a way to cull the herd?
I suppose I should really read all these ethical wall memos I get at work, considering I was named in one today.
Isn't it time for the next exercise craze to take over for Crossfit?
Your cute for the day.
Lyrics Rattling Around My Brain
"I wake you up in the middle of the night
To express my love for you
Stroke your skin and feel you
Naked I can feel all of you at the same moment
I wake you up in the night feeling
This is out last time together
Therefore sensing all the moments
We've been together, being shared at the same time
Every single touch
We ever touch each other
Every single fuck we had together
Is in a one trust time lapse
With us here at this moment
History of touches
Every single of archives
Come pressed into our seconds
All with us here as I wake you up."
"History of Touches"
"Lying on my bed I was reading French
With the light too bright for my senses
From this hiding place, life was way too much
It was loud and rough round the edges
So I faced the wall when an old man called
Out of dreams that I would die there
But a sight unseen, you were pulling strings
You had a different idea
I was like a child, I was light as straw
When my father lifted me up there
Took me to a place where they checked my body
My soul was floating in thin air
I clung to the bed, and I clung to the past
I clung to the welcome darkness
But at the end of the night
There’s a green, green light
The quiet before the madness
There was a girl that sang like the chime of a bell
Then she put out her arm, she touched me when I was in hell
When I was in hell
Someone sang a song and I sang along
'Cause I knew the words from my childhood
Intellect, ambition they fell away
And they locked me up for my own good
But I didn't mind 'cause the silence was kind
And spoke to me in whispers
There was the sound of the wind in the cold cold dawn
And the quiet hum of business
Let me dangle a while in this waiting room
I don’t need to go I don’t need to know what you're doing
You know what you're doing
Lying on my side you were half awake and your face was tired and crumpled
If I had a camera I’d snap you now 'cause there’s beauty in every stumble
We are out of practice, we're out of sight
On the edge of nobody’s empire
And if we live by books and we live by hope
Does that make us targets for gunfire?
Now I look at you you’re a mother of two
You’re a quiet revolution
Marching with the crowd singing dirty and loud
For the people’s emancipation
Did I do okay, did I pave the way?
Was I strong when you were wanting?
I was tied to the yoke with a decent bloke
Who was stern but never daunting
And he told me to push and he made me feel well
He told me to leave that vision of hell to the dying
Oh, to the dying."
Belle & Sebastian
House of Cards coming back next month
Counting down the last payments on my car
Blurry profile pics
Falling into a deep sleep 10 minutes before the alarm wakes you
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Friday, January 16, 2015
Oli Bayston, the main guy behind pop project Boxed In, has crafted a self-titled record that is so solidly put together there is no room for filler. Honestly, I almost couldn't put down just one track as my favorite. At the moment, I would say it is the piano and bass driven floor pounder "False Alarm." Seriously, buy this fucking record. It is amazing.
Finally the sun comes out in Atlanta. Here are the videos that made this foggy, dreary week more bearable:
Hypnotic clip from FKA twigs.
Surprisingly dancey collaboration between Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds with Johnny Marr.
Slightly surreal clip from Mount Eerie.
Retro-big beat track from The Prodigy gets an animated fox hunt clip.
Evocative black and white clip from 2:54.
Bouncy track from Shura gets a typical, but intriguing, look at planning a night out.
Thursday, January 15, 2015
"Begin Again," the second song previewed from Purity Ring's eagerly anticipated sophomore release Another Eternity, doesn't really reinvent the wheel with their sound, it is unmistakably a Purity Ring track. Corin Roddick's intriguing electronic soundscapes envelop Megan James' earthy yet ethereal vocals in a warm bath. You can tell their production budget has increased significantly, their sound growing cleaner, crisper, and more big-room ready. "Begin Again" immediately enthralls and brings you back to listen again and again.
Must be a chest day.
Wouldn't mind waking up to that.
Nice lean frame.
Wet and wonderful.
Hey there blue eyes.
Lovely beard and fur.
What is up with all the Interpol backlash lately?
I find it funny when people say things like "Oh, I hate 'x city' because everyone there is rude and unfriendly." A city itself cannot define its citizens, you met some rude people that just so happen to live there. There are rude people everywhere.
The movie Moulin Rouge is a two hour migraine to me.
I will admit I never got into Sleater-Kinney.
Growing up, I always wanted a Suburu Brat.
Line from Birdman which cracks me up: "Popular is just the slutty little cousin of prestige."
I just don't understand when sports fans riot; you're a fan, not on the team, you have no personal stake in this.
On the season premiere of Looking, one of the characters mentioned that this guy had a "house in Virginia" which is slang apparently for having HIV. One, I had never heard that expression before and, two, who has to resort to slang or something secretive to discuss someone's HIV status?
Togetherness, the new show on HBO, is rather horrible.
Also, the season premiere of Girls felt very off.
Sometimes nothing is better than just a bowl of plain vanilla ice cream.
Karl the Fog has decided to have another vacation in Atlanta. Go home Karl!
I miss the sun. We haven't seen it all week.
If you tell me you don't want to see a certain kind of pic on my Tumblr feed, I am definitely going to put more of such pics up there.
Bjork's new record Vulnicura comes out in March and I couldn't be happier.
The Shaky Knees Festival here in Atlanta has a lineup that is much stronger than Coachella or Bonnaroo.
Why do I always have deepest and best sleep 10 minutes before the alarm goes off?
I love how the new session of the Georgia Assembly opens up with an anti-gay prayer. Way to stay in the past Georgia.
Your cute for the day.
Lyrics Rattling Around My Brain
"She wakes up on her own
And opens her eyes
The sun tries to burn through the pain
She still feels inside
I've seen you fall apart
I know you wouldn't care
But I wish you were mine
She looks into his face
Just to be near him
And the clouds come round again
I saw you for a lifetime
I know I shouldn't care
But I wish you were mine
And the rain keeps on falling
In my heart."
"I've had good times
With some bad guys
I've told whole lies
With a half smile
Held your bare bones
With my clothes on
I've thrown rocks
Then hid both my arms
I don't know what good it serves
Pouring my purse in the dirt
But I-I-I-I-I don't wanna be your cheerleader no more
I-I-I-I-I don't wanna be your cheerleader no more
I've played dumb
When I knew better
Tried too hard
Just to be clever
I know honest thieves
I call family
I've seen America
With no clothes on
But I-I-I-I-I don't wanna be a cheerleader no more
I-I-I-I-I don't wanna be a cheerleader no more
I don't know what I deserve
But for you I could work
'Cause I don't wanna be a cheerleader no more
I don't wanna be a cheerleader no more."
Cute greeter cub at the Jepson Gallery in Savannah
Shaky Knees Festival
Cooking at home
Scotch on a cold day
Lorde and Trent Reznor being snubbed by the Oscars
Too much to do at work, and not enough time to do it
Working on a collective project and then having nothing you do on it appear in the finished form