sparks

12.24.03 @ 11:31 p.m.

I did an "I love the Clash" entry a few hours ago, go back and read it, okay?

The aftermath of Christmas (already), as we celebrate on the Eve. It's a mildly complicated arrangement springing from the fact that I have half-siblings who used to go to their mommy's house on Christmas morning. I've never known what it's like to try to wake up as early as possible to open presents and I think it lessened the "Santa isn't real" (shhh) blow because I never really got gifts from Santa. I only ever got the Christmas stocking from him, and that's rarely fantasmagoric stuff. Last year it was a DVD, though, that was pretty rocksome.

The haul:

Crushing my brother at Warlords after being whupped at everything else on the Atari 2600: Priceless. Heh heh. I don't know how he does it, but my brother still has the reflexes and serious skills for Atari game play.

Okay, I'm listening to the second disc of Leeds and... ooh, I'm such a girl. Pete is babbling about starting "Thomas" and... well, I'm sure the layout is a dead giveaway to how I feel about dear Peter.

What's interesting about the copy of Pet Sounds I got is that the whole album is on there first in mono, then there's a bonus track, then the album repeats in stereo. Seems an odd way to organize an album, but there you go. And my Rolling Stones CD is an SACD, and so the surface has a bit of a gold sheen to it.

I have a teensy bit of a problem with this wave of Rolling Stone rereleases. While I am quite happy that several albums that haven't been previously released in the US are coming out on CD, They're packaged in cardboard boxes. There's just a plastic tray glued to a cardboard sleeve and the liner notes are GLUED DOWN. Man. I just have a horrible feeling it's going to get SMASHED somehow and then I won't be able to replace the box like I've done on so, so many albums. I just replaced the back of my copy of A Quick One which broke when I dropped it in the darkroom of the EMU a year ago and the lid to my new copy of Who Are You, which came pre-crushed for my convienience.

Speaking of, the song "905" kills me, to steal phrasology from Liz. I am every more convinced that there is no such thing as a John Entwistle song that does not delight me. To whit:

Mother was an incubator, father was the contents
Of a test tube in the ice box in the factory of birth
My name is 905, and I've just become alive
I'm the newest populator of the planet we call Earth

It's fantastic, and I defy you to convince me to think otherwise. My other two particular favorite Entwistle tunes are "Heaven and Hell" and "My Wife." I even put "905" on the mix CD I made for Jodi today as a Christmas present. Heh. In the course of making it, I really thought about the way I would put some things on a CD for some people, but not for others. For Jo I looked for things that were more amusing. For Martha I think I'd try to find things that amused but that also rocked. I mean, Jodi likes musicals, etc, and so likes music that sets out to entertain in that fashion. Martha and I have a more Elizabeth Bennet-ish sense of the humor in daily life. Maybe more Mr. Bennet-ish, though I'm not keen on 'making sport for my neighbors.'

Oh, and my sister gives me a year to become an alcoholic or she'll start making fun of me. (??) She says her fianc� (and oh lord, his name is spelled "Shaan"... His first name! What the hell is that?) didn't do "anything fun" on his 21st and everyone mocks him. I told her a) fun is not soley defined by 'smashed drunk' even though I did NOT have fun on my birthday in the end and b) It's not that I'm a loser, it's that I have principles and do not, therefore, deserve the mocking. Christ. My siblings.

Oh, and just calculated to make me enthused about drinking: I've recently found out that just before my birthday, my dad's friend was on his way home from lunch at a McMenamin's pub near our house and struck a drunken pedestrian, but Friend was over the legal limit and is having his license taken away and will have to pay to get his truck out of impound and legal fees and all that. Now, this is a man I saw totally drunk off his ass in my grandma's backyard, sitting in a rubber raft with my dad, also smashed. My dad is unpleasant when drunk, mostly because he acts like a kid and gets sulky when things don't go his way. Or *shudder* philosophical. So this does not endear Friend to me. His saving grace (for all that he's a friend my dad actually likes, so I don't have to hear the "no one is good enough to be my friend" speeches anymore, thank god) is that he loaned me London Calling and Forty Licks via my dad for a while.

This was a satisfying holiday. It feels like the only problem I have in the world is where to put my new Jack White poster. (Meg's on it, too, but the pictures are mostly of Jack. And oh look, "This poster is not licensed by nor commercially connected in any way with the artists shown above." Jolly good. Pfft.)

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Previously

fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
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