edit: Still not asleep, so instead I will recommend some new musicians to you:

Lloyd & Michael (tweeish, not what you would expect from the name).

Let me also point you to the myspace of The Sprites who have a song called, “I Started a Blog that Nobody Read” which kind of reminds me of the class discussion today.

I can’t tell how I feel about Mike Doughty (this page has streaming music), I’ll get back to you on it.

Scrabbel (yes, spelled that way) has a cool name, but the jury’s also out on this one. It kind of sounds like a less underwater-garbly-midwestern-retro version of Arthur & Yu (but then again, take away A&Y’s muted-like complete rip of every band from the 1960’s sound, and what are you left with?)

Don’t even get me started on A&Y though, I like a few of their songs but kind of as a musical novelty. They were opening for Iron & Wine this past September, and they were pretty bland live. They’re very much a studio band, in terms of the vast difference of sound between the stages (i.e. sounding articulated, mildly interesting, and wholly on key in the studio recordings as opposed to…)

I like bands that can hold their own live, but eh, to each their own.

Just kidding, I listened to their myspace while writing this rant about them, and they’re pretty boring in the studio too. The one good song of theirs is “The Ghost of Old Bull Lee” because it’s the only one that’s really got any complexity to it; alas, I guess it didn’t make it to the myspace.

Two more. Number one comes from the giant music dump I got in the past few weeks, (and now that I’ve had two sources, I can’t remember who this came from) Georgie James. The song I like is “Places” which you can find if you scroll down a little bit, to their embedded application rather than the standard myspace music player.

Number two, I may have mentioned her earlier, but ElfOwl is a friend of Z.’s who makes gorgeous music. She’ll be playing at this show on Saturday night, and I’m psyched to see her sing live. I particularly suggest the song “Marianne” which I definitely mentioned earlier, as it was the inspiration for my poem “Emporia and the Long Drive.”

Ok, I lied. Last one, oldie but goodie (ew, I actually used that phrase.) Matthew Sweet has always been a staple around my house, more recently in his newer band The Thorns, but I am partial to Girlfriend and 100% Fun. In fact, the song “Girlfriend” in particular has been the song I use in the mornings as of late to pump me up. Linking to him is proving difficult, apparently his website is down and his myspace is a more recent collaborative effort of covers with Susanna Hoffs, a name I haven’t heard since I was like, 12, and my dad bought me a cd of hers.

We’ll just go old school. “Sick of Myself.”

So I can’t sleep. So I’m writing here.

The thought’s been plaguing me for a while so I want to put it here: this spring is oddly mirroring last. Sunday night before my mom left the next morning, we ventured to Macado’s for a late night greasy dinner. As we turned the corner to enter the lobby, there was a moment of deja vu under the awning. As I pushed open the door, there sat S. (manager of Macado’s, my cute but ill-fated date of last year who I saw once or twice again afterwards but never for another date) on the bench. I, caught up in the moment, said to my mother rather bitterly, “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” and stalked into the restaurant in my best impression of a-woman-scorned. Mom, having no idea what I was doing, gave the disheveled and up until that moment possibly sleeping boy a smile; he apparently returned with a sheepish grin (her words). When we were safely sequestered in a booth on the second floor I explained the significance.

Mom and I then talked about this spring as a repeat of last, only finding myself in the same situations with a different outlook on life. Talking to M. again. Seeing S. again in his atmosphere (and here I had thought he was history in terms of the restaurant — I did see him once a few weeks ago squiring a young lady into the movie theatre, but only momentarily).

The Wading Girl is playing another show on April 27th, just like they did last year. That was “the magical show,” the one where I bonded with a bunch of drunken seniors, and a stone-sober junior who was slightly forlorn at the fact. We danced and sang, then ate ihop together (the junior and I), and then M. (suprisingly sober) texted me about the plausibility of seeing each other later in the evening (although, technically AM at this point — I know, classy.)

This show though is at Martin’s where the likelihood of getting in for me as a bitter twenty year old is slim. There are no boys these days to vouch for me, say “She’s with us,” or “She won’t cause any trouble.” Hell, there is no somewhat ballsy counterpart who would fight for my admittance while only slightly embarrassing me by repeatedly pointing out that I am just a kid. Loudly.

Anyway.

Everything’s changed. I go downtown and see the same faces, (all the boys with J-names, a Roanoke phenomenon that everyone’s mom decided they needed to be named Jon or Jordan or Jerry or Jason or Justin) but rarely interact (a hello, a ‘how’s it been,’).

I’m a much happier person these days. I wouldn’t trade what I have now for another April 27th or another date at Pop’s.

Speaking of Pop’s, I struck up conversation with one of the owners, and a regular, about film and collecting owls from thrift stores (my new hobby). It was cute, chatting over my strawberry milkshake. That kind of stuff is the Roanoke moments I miss, the times I rarely get anymore what with schoolwork and general malaise.

Tomorrow is Boone Boone Boone, bringing a friend with me so that should be interesting. Z. is playing a solo show on Saturday, and being there for that is more important to me than 1000 april 27ths, more important than all of last year.

This video is one of my current favorites; the mellotron makes the song.

I’m (finally) in Boone now. It’s been a relaxing evening in the mountains. A neighbor in the meadows behind the apartment complex called us over to watch a space station pass through the sky. He had a gyroscope-looking compass, and said the other night he saw it pass clear over Wal-Mart.

I had a moment today with my iPod and a distinct memory of last April. Dancing at the Green Dolphin.

Yes there will be another 8th of November.

Every time I visit home it becomes harder to leave.

There are new places to visit, new sights, new plans made (the visionary arts museum, the antique stores in Ellicott City, the museum of industry, education classes at ccbc.)

And all these different lives I could have lived.

Today has been a blast-from-the-past kind of day, as are many days spent back here in Baltimore.

We went to Mt. Washington (Mom, Dad, and I) and had bagels and coffee by the Jones Falls. Then we took a long country drive, trading iPod cuts on the car speakers, chatting. I mainly watched the Park Heights mansions drift by our windows. At Goodwill, Dad got me a lovely set-of-drawers, a steal at 5$, for jewelry. We got a few other minor things, but it was nice to have an outing with the family. Later this evening Mom & I ventured out to the liquor store and picked up some Irish Creme for some minor monday celebration; we spent an hour deliberating over groceries at the supermarket. I picked up some different things for a present I’m compiling for the boyfriend, as he is forced to spend the Easter weekend alone .

Mom and I discovered this site: musicovery which is amazing, you basically pick your mood (a graph of sorts, allowing for moods such as “Dark, Energetic” or “Positive, Calm”), the era of music you’re interested in (I stayed mainly towards 1960-1979), and the genres you like. It then gives you a map of embedded flash songs that fit the description, and as you click on a song to listen to, five-fifteen more songs map out like spiderwebs from the song you are listening to. I relived some childhood with the Beatles and CCR.

This put me in the mood to find some old music, and that I did, settling on Billboard’s collection of Top 100 songs for 1965. Here is where I found maybe the best thing I have come upon all day: The Vogues – You’re The One (linked for download on sendspace). This, as simple as it is, could probably be considered one of my most favorite songs. It was my favorite song in the universe circa ages 2-7. I have many fond memories of dancing around in our then-1970’s wood-paneled basement (since redone in an unfortunate shade of white), toes all curled in the shag carpeting as I bopped around to the spinning vinyl. I used to think, in the way that the world makes sense to 5 year olds, that one of my dad’s friends was the actual singer of the song. I remember asking him to sing it to me, and he politely declined; now that I look back on the incident, I don’t think the man can sing a note. It must be embarrassing, but somewhat cute, to have your friend’s little daughter insisting that you are the actual singer of a 60’s hit, and tantrum when you won’t sing it for her.

Tomorrow I plan to try to capture my brother for a photoshoot-interpretation of prompt number two; if he doesn’t comply, well, I certainly can gush enough about my boyfriend to fill the specifications. My brother is so odd though, and I mean that in a complimentary way (lest he catches wind of this blog); he is who I initially thought of for this project because of his sheer photogenic nature, and the volumes I could go into about his eccentricities. I also never see him, even when I’m home he’s at a friend’s house 95% of the time. We’re an odd pair in that siblings aren’t usually as close as he and I, but I truly consider him one of my best friends.

And with that said, it’s time for another sleep-induced abrupt ending, because I don’t want to spill too much about my brother before I possibly profile him tomorrow.

Friday night was spent reliving a past passion, the act of going downtown for dinner and mingling, going to No Shame theatre (though it was small, and comparatively un-funny to others I’ve attended,) and just spending time with friends in the city air. I saw a few locals I used to know, though I think with this hair cut and this total 180 in terms of friends (i.e. not barging into a room with an abrasively loud force) they maybe didn’t recognize me.

It’s refreshing to be putting myself in new social situations (I’ve even grown an impressive back-bone these days.) This past weekend has been some sort of weight off my shoulders; not easy, no no, but just, to repeat, refreshing. The sun is out again in full swing and although its not warm, it’s not cold (a new feeling for me — I’ve been cold since last spring, and I don’t mean that emotionally.)

What is new, what is new. I have signed up to read at April 29th’s Grapheon; it was only fair to make an appearance I think — the theme is (from what I can gather by the cryptic title) Karma, and coincidentally, I just recently made a post on my other journal about what I believed to be karmic retributions of sort (also a cryptic notion, the post was about four words long, and never once mentioned the event I thought to be of karmic nature.)

What a coincidence that the theme love poems was so recently crossed out then and “Is it KARMA?” was put in it’s place as the theme! It’s as if I have some sort of power over these things.

I’ve drunk three cups of tea today, and I doubt I’m done rampaging through the stashes; my own collection is dwindling, but luckily there is always (albeit rather limited in selection) tea at Moody. Finally, a constant at Moody that isn’t either completely gross, or something you immediately regret eating.

I’ve found myself to now be fully and finally lactose intolerant, fulfilling my destiny as a nerdy jew. Yeah, I’m the kid who went to cognitive therapy during elementary school due to extreme separation anxiety (and cause I was too damn smart, how about that) and the kid who spent middle school in after-school computer graphics classes, the formative years spent surfing AOL teen chat-rooms and playing video games. I am now the lady who enjoys tutoring for a living, who nags her boyfriend in that jewish guilt way about soda (hypocritically, as I want nothing more than to run downstairs barefoot to purchase a coke) and vegetables, who enjoys bargain hunting and thrifting.

All I can do these days in journals is redefine myself; I must be at that age where it’s prevalent. I keep hinting around this giant falling out I had with friends, but never get straight to the point of how much it’s fucked up my sense of self. Everything my life was based around here at this tight little bubble of emotion has been changed. I enjoy sitting alone at meals (though now I am spending more time with new friends,) I enjoy talking to new people (and don’t automatically think of ways to paint them as inferior,) I enjoy late nights in the Writing Center listening to music and doing homework.

At the same time, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss everything last spring was to my life (not the friends so much as the events that shaped me.)

So I went back a year in my other online journal, thinking I’d see something small that I could relate to in terms of “how much I miss a former state of being.” It was an interesting thing to do, because I didn’t remember the significance of March 9th/10th off the top of my head. It was in fact a pivotal day in my life, one when I realized that I am a lady on top of everything, and I am attractive and worthwhile. It also proved a long-standing theory I’ve had on songs:

“ last week i left my phone number on a cute little piece of paper at the macado’s hoping the manager (S.) would call me. after a night of flirty-eyes and coming-to-our-table-to-awkwardly-subvert-waitress, i was super pumped. boys just don’t LIKE me. not cute ones, not ones with fluffy hair and my kind of build. when we got back into the car at like 1:30 am the mix cd kathy made started to play this modest mouse song, “Gravity Rides Everything”. literally just started as i turned on the car. “in the motions, in the things that you say, it all will fall, fall right into place.”

so, cracked out on boy-love, i wrote that quote on my white-board calendar and made it my ringtone for unknown calls.i listened to it once daily.he didn’t call.

i wished i could go back in time and ask his name like i was supposed to.

friday night rolls around, and after a brilliant day of chinese food, blasting anna nalick around the loop multiple times, mill mountain awkward love (twice! in one day!) we go to no shame. there are 13 or 14 performers which is unusual, at least in my experience, and most of them are funny as shit.

we go to macados. i am discouraged by the fact that i a. will be sitting with 12 other girls; b. M. who was supposed to come meet me decided to get drunk instead; c. we were not in our usual booth (where, let me tell you, both times i saw him previously i was in the same booth, seat, the same OUTFIT [right down to the earrings], and eating the same thing. i’m glad he wasn’t horrified, because i was.)

i see him immediately upon our entrance and he smiles at me a bunch of times. i have to squeeze past him at one point and he gives me a grin and a ‘hi there.’

M. calls me because “txting is too hard when yr drunk”. the noise of the no shame regulars down a booth and our 13 girls made me need to go outside to take my call.

as i walked down the hall i saw S. leaning against the bar. i went outside, where i proceeded to talk to M as he said “drunk” and “fuck” a few times before i saw S. in the doorway (he followed me). he walked outside. we were alone.

i did what any good person in my situation would do and hung up the phone. I stood awkwardly a moment, thinking I had caught him on a smoke break or something. no cigarette was pulled. he holds the door for me and I lean against it.

“What’s your name by the way?” I ask, completely horrified by my own GUMPTION. (i said it.)
“S., what’s yours?” we were grinning.
“C.”
“..Ohhh… that was you…”
“That was me.”
“We found it on the table but I didn’t know who’s it was”
“It was me.”
“Want me to call you sometime?”
[my phone starts to vibrate again and it's M. again but I just press mute.]
“I would love that.”

then we shook hands.

so here is my theory about songs: they’re signs. and if you listen to the ones that are specifically sent to you for moments you experience, listen at least once a day; things might just work out. “