Monday, August 23, 2010
Sukie in Clarke's headlights.
Lambchop, The Decline and Fall of Counrty and Western Civilization: The Woodwind Years
M. Ward, Transfiguration of Vincent
Tao Lin, Richard Yates
You know, Swamp People - basically Deadliest Catch with the parameters being readjusted and the budget drastically reduced on retooled to portray Louisiana alligator hunters - isn't all that bad a show. Too bad they couldn't have had Waylon Jennings narrate it like the real Dukes of Hazzard, though. You already know how good Mad Men is. I'm waiting for some brave incalcitrant soul to pop up with "God, I hate Mad Men!' like a friend of mine did once about James Brown. There are plenty of compelling reasons to hate anything, but c'mon... I stood slack-jawed at how anyone could hate James Brown, but I admired his steadfastness on the subject.
You know, I really like Lambchop, but listening to a whole album of theirs is like eating all your vegetables. No matter how much you like vegetables, some of them get cold and soggy at the end. M. Ward, on the other hand - each little song is like finding one more french fry in the bottom of the bag. I love the way he says "killa whale, please!" in "Sad, Sad Song," and how he says everything in this song.
He only sings when he's sad, and he's sad all the time.
You know, putting my lunch down in the communal fridge down the hall shames me out of compulsively eating it 30 minutes early in a fit of rash Gotta Do Something For My Happiness Now, which will likely benefit me in the long run. If there was only a fridge in the library (10 min walk away) where it could be kept.
You know, Hurricane Katrina formed in the gulf five years ago. I was, have been and will be perpetually aware of when it went down, but it seems like longer to me, a slow, bumpy normalization, and I didn't even live in New Orleans. I wrote a story for Oxford American a couple years ago about Katrina's effect on Baton Rouge, but then and now I feel a little weird telling that story when this was happening just down the road. The OA is hosting a block party in the Ninth Ward this weekend. Y'all should go. I'm going.
You know, my lunch plan sorta failed. I just kept looking at this post instead of getting on with the business of the day while ignoring my lunch down the hall and M. Ward is breaking my heart in two with his version of "Let's Dance" and I dredged all the hummus out of the little hummus container with my finger and now I'm going to make that walk to the library and let old Tao Lin bum me out a little more with his characters' (I think it's just his characters') steadfast refusal to enjoy or celebrate anything but I think my mood will jump in the balance and lift me up and I will, for the experience, thrive. I ate all my vegetables. The new students are fully aswarm today with their little folders and notebooks and awkward steps. If things get dicey, I'll just imagine Waylon Jennings narrating my progress.