you can miss out school (won't that be cool?)
02.18.05 @ 2:59 p.m.
I'm going to try to cut down on writing here, or at least cutting the irrelevant stuff. So, less "Hurr this is what I did all day" and more... hmm, I don't know how to classify. Substance, I guess.
There is drama like mad on Dumbrella all of a sudden, and I'm really unhappy with that. And while there is an illicit thrill in watching people snipe at each other, the end results will not be good. Dumbrella was not truly tiresome to me until today. (Also, Ryan is lobbying for the return of Fawn, which makes me laugh a little; partly because I thoroughly dislike Fawn and partly because I don't see much appeal in being invited back to something of a sinking ship.) I mean, fucking hell, do we really need this now? Maybe we do. Maybe something needs to be broken so it can be put back together again.
The only other thing worth telling today is that I started listening to the Shins' Oh, Inverted World today. I bought it last Wednesday night, when I went to Fred Meyer. It's interesting, and I can definitely see the reasons people would compare it to late sixties pop; it's very, very similar, and I hear it far more than I do in the Vines, the only other band I've heard given such a comparison. Can't you hear this album being released in 1969? Probably an underground success, being not overblown enough for payola radio. Maybe British; too structured for San Francisco sound. (I hate formless jams. Do you need to be on drugs to enjoy them? I like structure and form, and lack thereof is just grating and wearying. I will never be an unwashed, carefree hippie following the Grateful Dead, not that they still have that little neo-nomadic pilgrimage thing going... do they?) Really, though, what catches me (and only on a few songs) is the strong resemblance between the lead singer's voice and style and Ray Davies'. It sounds like the Kinks to me, maybe the Village Green Preservation Society era Kinks. Not the Mod Kinks, oh, no. But even the Small Faces moved toward the psychedelic as the sixties progressed. (See: "Itchycoo Park.") ("Now, if you're inclined / to blow my mind / get on up, feed the ducks with a bun / they all come out / to groove about / be nice and have fun in the sun.") I suppose one of my consumerist quests will be to gather up some more Small Faces albums. Oh Steve Marriott, oh Ronnie Lane, oh Ian McLagan, oh other band members whose names I don't know. (Steve has a pretty awesome voice for one so young (when their eponymous album was recorded), Ronnie made an album with Townshend called Rough Mix, Ian eventually married Kim Kerrigan cum Kim Moon and moved to Texas, where they still live, according to NPR.) Eventually I'll go back to Fred Meyer and buy Chutes Too Narrow, maybe. I don't know if this new album has grabbed me well enough.
Some random person started IMing me and Ryan this afternoon, and it has made me all kinds of paranoid. I honestly have no idea what to make of this person. Or why he picked the two of us. It was fucking odd, but I managed to enjoy a little of it, mostly the "WTF, WTF?" asides I was making to Ryan.
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
