The fact that the title of this mix has the potential to open a philosophical discussion speaks volumes 2to me at the moment, especially with the predicament I presently find myself in concerning all sectors of my life.
I am suppose to be sifting through my belongings (once again). Deciding what to scrap and what to keep, because frankly, this moving business is for the dogs, and the less I have to carry, the happier I'll be (Philosophical jump-off point number 2). Instead of sorting through my things, I am here, dicking around on the internet. C'est La Vie!
Laundry--you money sucking fiend. Not only do I have to drag you to the laundromat, but I have to fight with other ne'er-do-wells who also have nothing better to do on a Tuesday morning, and then pay nearly $5 to wash and dry you. Granted, being near broke, one wash was all I cold afford, but it's the principle of the matter, is all. I mean, I buy you from the store--save you from the grimy hands that pulled you day-in and day-out. Then when I bring you home and take you out a few times, you demand to be cleaned. I mean, honestly? Couldn't you at least wash yourself?
Also, besides mini-psuedo-ranting, the main reason for this post is the first song on this mix, Bitter:Sweet's "Dirty Laundry."
And this song purely for the ~lulz~
Bonus!Video!Jam! Don Henley -- Dirty Laundry (modified form its original version)
"I'm in rock and roll." "No shit? You famous?" "Not yet." "Well hey man, chin up, you just gotta keep at it!" "Maybe. But you know, Nelson, fame isn' always the ultimate goal." "Really? What's the goal then? Money? Dope? Pussy? What?" "There is that element, for sure." "What other elements are there, do you suppose?" "Well. Art," I say. "Come again?" says Nelson, putting a finger to his ear. "There's the art of it. Creating something beautiful and lasting." "Tell me, Darby, are you on dope now?" "No, just coffee and doughnuts." "So you're shitting me then?" "Nope. Crappin you negative." "The art of rock and roll," he says. He offers me a cigarette then lights one for himself. Prince's "1999" comes on. "Like this one," I say, "this one touches one something pretty deep." "Such as?" "Millennial anxiety. Sex. Death. The end of pretty much everything. Listen, here's the line. Wait. Here it comes. Right here. Did you hear that?" "Something about I was dreaming when I spoke this?" "No, after that. 'Life is just a party and parties weren't meant to last.'" "Life's a party? Fuck that. Where's the art? My life's no party." "Yeah but it's one of those scary truths. Prince is saying we're all gonna die."
-excerpted from Grab on to me Tightly as if I Knew the Way, by Bryan Charles
To motivate myself, a little mix. My deposit and first month's rent sent out: 8 days til the move, & I am still not packed. Having not enough time for the epic task, does indeed present a large part of the problem, but another portion of it is also due to my unwillingness to leave shit behind. Books, movies, records--I NEED them with me. Psssh, I feel a third grade tantrum coming on. Weeding through my movies, weighing Adam Sandler's Bulletproof against West Side Story--toss the former into the "Yard Sale" Box, and pack the latter into the trunk. Decisions, decisions. Books, my sunny-day companions, being packed on a Need basis--which ones I NEED (am willing) to carry up 4 flights of stairs. Gah. Those Harry Potter bitches have it so easy...
Being at an age prone to delusions of invincibility, my armour cracked upon hearing that yet another friend has passed on. Another friend, 22 years old, no longer fighting the good fight in this circus we call Life. A friend whom I once called my best, my truest; forever. A friend with whom growing up meant growing apart.
And I'm not sure how to handle this. My Heart hurts. My eyes, they threaten, and yet the only thing I can think of is music. Just burying myself in songs (in memories) of better days. Seeking comfort in musicians we loved in summer sun and winter rain--singing and dancing stupidly until we collapsed in fits of laughter on her bedroom floor. This mix won't be sad, that wasn't her style, it's not my style; our style. So to others, this mix may seem a sorry excuse in honouring the dead, but it's the best way I know how. & knowing Leril, she'd laugh and call me a stupid ass for it.
She was born with HIV and ultimately died of complications from the disease. Help raise awareness as well as money to insure no one else has to needlessly die. There's an AIDS Walk in NYC on the 18th of May, and there are a number of AIDS charities you can donate to.
"No one should come to live in New York unless he is willing to be lucky." -E.B. White
A friend introduced me to that quote, and with the Big Move date now set and rapidly approaching, this girl has never felt more ready to be in Fortune's favour. Maybe this is where my fascination with that Celine Dion song comes in--at the moment, "Taking Chances" is my song to the City. It perfectly summarizes the anxiety and hope contained within my freckled skin. Like a first kiss--you're scared because you think you are going to be terrible, but you throw caution to the wind because you're getting exactly what you want. Exactly what you want. Except this kiss has been four years in the making and is now eight months overdue. And now the waiting--the yearning--is over. One more month and I'll finally get the kiss I've been waiting for...
And I've never been more scared/excited in my Life.
Celebrating two months of aurally stimulating blogging, I decided to submit Revolution Muzak to the Hype Machine's blog list. After several error messages, I contacted the Hype Machine staff. This gem arrived in my inbox this morning:
Hi Gia,
Thank you for suggesting your blog! Unfortunately, it seems it doesn't quite fit our format right now. We look for blogs with a more clearly defined focus in the music that's posted.
All the best,
Zoya
Riiight.
To show Zoya just how clearly defined our focus here at Revolution Muzak is, today's mix is brought to you by iTunes shuffle. Oh yeah.
Being a book and music nut, it was only natural that my love of both come together on this blog. (Just when one thinks I can not get any geekier, I do.) Books are a main component in my room--too many for my measly bookshelf to hold, they have weasled themselves onto my shelves. Stack after stack after stack; drama, horror, non-fiction, fantasy, poetry--all sit intertwined on my shelves. Originally this mix was to be a one shot deal, but since I have found 45+ songs with a literary base, I am going to break this up into volumes. Three sounds like a nice round odd number, but we'll see. While some of the musicians I am to offer up pain my ears in the worst of ways, they will still get recognition (as well as madd props) for at least reading one piece of literature and celebrating it with a song. I easily could dedicate an entire volume of this music-meets-literature bit to Tom Waits, but I will refrain...for now. Also? I know Wizard Wrock is an entire "genre" of music dedicated to the Harry Potter series, but I am excluding it from these mixes. I'm one of the biggest Harry Potter dorks you'll find, I just think Wizard Wrock is lame. And if I could find the recordings of Shel Silverstein reading his poetry, you bet it would be on like motherflippin' Donkey Kong.
It was 3AM. Rain was falling. Wind was blowing. I was cold. The blankets, warm with sleep, beckoned. Sleep, they said, Sleep. I dreamed in music notes and and rhymes. In melody. In lyrics. I dreamed in music notes & rhymes. In melody. In lyrics...
Things are going to get real personal 'round here, so buckle up, or skip to the music.
I am: unattached. unbetrothed. uncommitted. un-manned. In other words: I am single.
People--strangers, friends, co-workers, as well as the good ol' family--have taken an unprecedented interest in my love life as of late. At least twice a week I get the question, "why is a great girl like yourself not scooped up yet?" Sometimes great is interchanged with nice or pretty, and scooped becomes snagged, snatched, or taken. Being asked three times in the space of one hour's time, like last night*, as to why I was not scooped, snagged, snatched, or taken can make a girl a bit edgy and feeling as though she needs to justify her singlehood with some small quip:
I can't help the freckles. Red's not in this season. They like their soul too much.
For a long time, this singlehood was something I actively chose. (Takes one bad relationship to ruin the bunch, yeah?) Asked out on dates I'd say "thanks, but no." Only within the last year have I actively put myself back on the market--began saying, "yes." A few great guys, a few nice dates--but nothing solid. The potential was there, yes, but for one reason or another things didn't takeoff. That's how the game works, you keep swinging until you get a hit.
I would take a shared bed in lieu of a lonely one any night of the week. And the rush you get right before kissing someone? I honestly do not think there is a better feeling in the entire Universe. The tingles and butterflies--the intimacy of being with another human being in a capacity not shared between friends. The kind of intimacy and closeness that leaves their scent on you, hours after they've gone.Yes, I'm romanticizing a bit, but it is in my nature, and with spring sprung? Spring Fever is going to be setting in and making this girl giddier than usual (Hell, I've already bought a dress).
This is poorly written, I know, and not at all where I wanted to go with this, but hey, at least you're getting some tunes as a consolation prize!
Fellow citizens of Gotham, do you want a Gotham free from the grip of criminals and the corrupt? Are you fed up with living in fear? Then Harvey Dent is your man for Gotham's next District Attorney. Don't let Mr. Dent's boyish good looks fool you, he is a serious candidate ready to fight for Gotham. If elected, he will do "what needs to be done" to rid Gotham's government and law enforcement of the corruption that has infiltrated it. Harvey Dent wants to take back Gotham, but he can not do it without your support. Some believe Gotham unsaveable, a once great city that has fallen into the hands of criminals--never again to be resurrected to its former glory. Harvey Dent believes otherwise. Harvey Dent believes in Gotham and its citizens, and believes both are ready for change. If you want change, if you want Gotham to be a city of peace once again, vote Harvey Dent for District Attorney.
For more information on how you too can show your support, please visit IBelieveinHarveyDent.com
Surely, I do not. I have not worn, let alone purchased a dress in nearly five years. I have not been a dress kind of gal since I hit age fourteen, and I can barely walk with both feet on the ground let alone three inches up. Yesterday, that changed. I bought not only a dress, but a pair of heels too. It's one of the ten signs of the Apocalypse, so I'd watch it if I were you. All that's missing? A hot date to step out with wearing the dress. Thank goodness it's getting warmer out... In usual R.M. fashion, we're celebrating this little victory with a mix.
Here's to women's kisses, and to whiskey, amber clear; Not as sweet as a woman's kiss, but a darn sight more sincere!
Celebrating St. Patty's this past Saturday in Woodlawn, I got myself into some proper mischief. A word to the wise: never dare an Irish--especially after a few shots and a pint. Being the proud Irish that I am, I will celebrate dear ol' St. Patty's Day with a superb mix. Su-fecking-perb, I say. Some will be classics, others will be thrown in purely for fun and entertainment.
Having found a proper date for tonight, the anxiety is gone and the excitement is on--on like Donkey Kong, baby! Okay, so to say the least: I am excited. And honestly, if I may say so, I am more excited about seeing Chromeo tonight then Justice. Blasphemous, a bit, I know. But over the last few weeks, I've become addicted to Fancy Footwork. I don't what it is with that album, but I keep going back to it. It's like dirty 80's synth pop that learned how to shower--I don't know how else to describe it. Justice is going to phenomenawesome fo' sho, but I think Chromeo are going to be the ones to start tearing things up. Also, I can't help but love an album whose beats remind me of Ghostbusters and Batman. Listen to the album and you'll know what I mean.
Anyways, as I was saying, the concert tonight is going to be wicked (how Bostonian of me). It's going to feel amazing to just let fucking loose. Months of frustration to be danced away in just a few short hours. Ugh, it's going to be better than...well, lets just say lots of things. Since New York is the only date all the acts are scheduled to play (hooray!), let's celebrate! It's all about the little victories, folks.
...when boxes were packed, then unpacked, then re-packed. Possessions sorted into piles--what to keep, what to throw away, what to sell. Possessions packed into boxes. Possessions no longer possessions so much as they were objects in boxes. In boxes, ready to move. Ready to move...
Twenty-One. Ovary Carrier. Philosopher. Overworked. Underplayed. Writer. Lover. Music Appreciator. Batman Freak. Red-Haired. Freckled.
Just an old sweet song, keeps Georgia on my mind...
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