those who can't do
listening to "Frente! - Labour of Love (1994)"
takin’ it back to 3rd grade
lOl . this made me chuckle .Lol.Seriously? Yes, this is what I was talking about. I don’t want to rain on anybody’s sense of humor parade, but really?
For the last several months, I handed him my keys, my bag, and my phone, the moment I walked through his door.
To me, it’s just not funny and it certainly isn’t true.
I totally agree. This is NOT funny.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Does He Love You? - Rilo Kiley (acoustic)
great storytelling, good melody, still sounds good stripped down (true sign of a good song). or, as elvis costello said a couple of years back: “Does He Love You?” is the finest and most touching telling of a short story that you are likely to hear all year.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Phoenix - Lisztomania
This describes MY LIFE.
I think I was sitting on a kitchen counter somewhere drinking a glass of wine, kicking my feet around emphatically while telling a story about my day to someone who always makes a pretty genuine effort listen (well, someone who can at least summarize the last sentence out of my mouth with a couple of carefully selected nouns: “your roommate, the cable bill, continue”) when I realized that I was happy. Nothing to bitch about except, like, I had cut my toe and also my hair was sort of frizzing and my fucking Euro-techno ringtone was getting mighty irritating — which, really, thank God for Twitter for that sort of Lori Beth Denberg snippetry, right?
There is this line in a Lorrie Moore short story (how many times does that make its way into the intro-sentence of a post-throat-clearing attempt to express myself?) that’s, like, “there were moments…when she looked out at her life and went, “What?”” and that sort of constant functional disbelief had been the sole proprietor of my moods for a little too long; the size of the gap between the “expected” and “actual” generally dictated the volumes of alcohol I would consume and, like, it’s not like they never threw the “results may vary” disclaimer at us when we became adults, but holy shit once you conquer or swallow that little reality-check, you get a bit of a grip on logic and you come to this moment right here: looking up from a glass of wine (while your ass is still kickin’ it like a child on that kitchen counter) and staring into someone’s face and thinking holy, holy, holy hell — I really give two shits about you. Maybe three shits. I like you more than I like the dress I’m wearing, more than I like the Florence and the Machine album (masterpiece! I’m telling you people!) and, right at this moment, with the wine and the kitchen counter and you and the rain outside, if the world shrank to those things in this one teeny tiny bubble it would be okay. Jesus, here we go with THIS shit now.*
*PS this is not about Jesus I just say “Jesus” a lot.
It’s interesting the amount of ‘like’s’ she manages to fit in one post, but God this woman is a brilliant writer. Although sometimes I think she does this as a joke, because she is, like, so intelligent. If not, well then here is a pre-emptive apology- Sorry Jenna!
(via fuckyeahgq)
