Work. Pfff.

I started work on obituaries for the Winter issue of the Voice today. Yuck. I have about 70 "obits," as they're called around the office, to read and summarize in a small (6-8 sentence) paragraph. There are many things that are disturbing about this. I had this conversation with my boss today:

"So, is there anything procedural I should know about writing obituaries?"
"Well, I'd suggest starting with the death reports, just to give yourself a base, and then you can fill them out with the actual obits."
"Oh, okay. Really I'm just trying to put off actually starting them for as long as possible." I mean, summarizing the lives of the dead for the next week (at least)? That's scary.
[With look of exhasperated understanding] "I know, I know. Obits are such a pain."
"Yeah." Where is this going?
"They're just so boring! They all say the same thing, devoted husband, devoted wife, loving parent, it's like, I mean, come on."
"Yeah." What!?

I'm not being fair to my boss, here. There was more to the conversation, but that's what I took away from it. The sad thing is that I'm beginning to understand what she was talking about. Five obits in, I'm already sick of loving family members and lovers of the outdoors. I'm completely disconnected. It's horrible. Not that I could possibly handle connecting with all of these people, especially through something so impersonal and (generally) contrived as an obituary. It's just unnerving that I have fallen so easily into such a pattern. Even so, I'm avoiding work like the plauge--I really should be working right now.

In the other-converstaions-with-bosses department, a supervisor at the library (not Sandie or Lois, who are sweethearts) told me that I coudn't put my bike inside anymore (I can't find my lock and don't want to buy a new one, if I can help it). Apparently, we don't allow bikes in the library, and if people see me, a library worker, keeping my bike behind the desk, then they will all want to bring their bikes inside. I had a very strong urge to ask her what people she was talking about (I'd say library capacity hovers around six during my shift), or if anyone really sees any appeal in trying to fit a bike into their study room, but I just looked apologetic and said I understood. Oh, the little things in life.

I got the new Caribou album, and I really like it. I've never listened to him before, but yeah, it's sweet. If anyone wants it, I am an avid YouSendIt-er.

Oh yeah, PRINCE IS PLAYING AT FIRST AVENUE TOMORROW, which he hasn't done since 1987. We're going to try and get tickets. They go on sale tomorrow at 3:00 at First Ave. If we fail, which we most certainly will, then we will go out to dinner with Leah's parents. If we don't, then I don't see how anything cooler could possibly happen this summer. Wish us luck.

Hmmmph

Bros, I know I haven't posted in a while, but please don't get angry or feel unloved. I've been really really busy.

I've been watching the Office. Both the American and British versions. Both are excellent. The Pam/Jim relationship in the American Office is just perfect television. I could spend all day watching those two flirt. The British Office on the other hand is so painful to watch. Tom and I watched the majority of series two plus the special. We wanted to kill ourselves by the time they got to the Christmas Party. But when Dawn and Tim kiss, my chest expanded and I was so happy. But it was a very qualified happiness. One born of four hours of painful monotony and sexual repression. British television is not entertainment. Rather it is an existential metaphor for life.

Anyways, I bought a five dollar phone card today. Sara had to go with me because the lady didn't speak English fluently. Thank goodness I have friends who speak Spanish.

I read People today. They had an exclusive interview with Paris Hilton. That poor girl. She suffered so much in prison. She compared the happiness of her release to that of having a baby or getting married. I don't know what you think, but 20 days in prison seems worth it for that kind of joy.

I should quit now while I'm just sort of behind.

the brar

so this town is boring and my job sucks. i sit on the roof, use my own computer to catalog and summarize every book in the library (in spanish), and have zero human contact 9 hours a day. also, i fell on the stairs and everyone saw, so they know me as roof girl with meaningless job who fell on the stairs.

anyway, i am posting to say that i found the flyest name ever on one of the altiplano university comps projects today: Lourdes L. Zapata Humpire.

it doesn´t seem that fly until you´ve seen it a hundred times, but trust me.

oh, and i have officially spent 10% of my independence days freezing in the andes! i hope that percentage will only decrease.

A Rant, a Joke, and More!

The Rant:

I really don't like girls who look attractive when they wear big sunglasses. Like, you know, those large designer sunglasses that cover up about 3/4 of your face? What's up with those? Little UVa hot-stuffs walk around sporting those (coupled with their cute little sundresses) all the fucking time and I really don't like them, they're deceitful.

When I can only see the tip of your chin pointing out from underneath your huge shades I fill in the blank underneath with something pretty attractive. What can I say, I'm an optimist. A girl may be walking around with a totally cute hairdo and a nice little smile, and I presume the rest is nice as well. I'd say about 90% of the time, I'm wrong. When bitches take off their sunglasses, it's a letdown. If I had known that's what you look like under those things I wouldn't have wasted the past 15 seconds clandestinely eyeing you to see if you were worth checking out further. Stop wasting my time with your trickery! If you're going to look good with big sunglasses, look good without them too because you can't hide behind those things forever.


A Joke (unrelated to the rant):

Question: How many indie kids does it take to screw in a lighbulb?

Answer: What, you don't know?


And More:

The more is... a lie! That's right, I lied. I don't actually have more. I was trying to find an awesome commercial I saw on TV but Youtube doesn't have it yet. Looks like I'll have to save it for another post.

Xoxo,
Colin

Oops...

Danielle "McClendon" Williams, who I wrote about in this blog, just facebook messaged me, informing me she googled her name and found my old post, and that I had her mixed up with someone else, that she was one year older than me (not one younger), and that she had never played the French horn. Now she can find her name twice on this blog. Hi Danielle!

We don't have work tomorrow, so we're whooping it up tonight. At least that's the plan. Maybe we'll even break out the camera and take some sexy photos. If there's one thing that's been lacking in my summer, it's been sexy photo shoots with Anne and Alex.

On Pitchfork: OHMYGOD! Here's my fantasy schedule:

Saturday
1:00-1:30 - Not sure. Twilight Sad is way cooler than their stupid name, and they might be more interesting live than Califone.
3:00 - Grizzly Bear, obviously.
4:10 - Fujiya & Miyagi
5:00 - I'm not against going to Iron & Wine, but I don't really listen to him. I might prefer eating.
7:15 - Dan Deacon
8:30 - Girl Talk

Sunday
1:00 - Deerhunter. James and Colin, I know you aren't into these guys, and Colin, to be honest, you probably shouldn't even try, but I think they're awesome. And the lead singer will probably wear a frilly dress.
2:00 - Menomena
3:00 - Junior Boys
4:00 - The Sea and Cake, whom I haven't listened to, but who are right before Stephen Malkmus (see below) on the aluminum stage, and whom allmusic.com tells me I might like. Not necessary, really.
6:00 - Stephen Malkmus
7:00 - Of Montreal
8:00 - New Pornographers
9:00 - De La Soul... I guess I'd go to Klaxons if that's what everyone wants. De La Soul are De La Soul, but De La Soul are also old.

The end of the second night might involve some serious stage-hopping, but I feel like it's worth it. Also, who has a ticket for Friday? Am I going it alone, or what? Also, if anyone's in love with Slint or the GZA, they might be able to convince me to give them my ticket (I have three individual tickets for the Friday shows).

Time to kick everyone out of the Library. It would be the worst job ever, but no one is here. Score.

Also, our previous post got comment-spammed by some hispanic dude who make his own t-shirts. How many views are we at?

I'm out of good titles at the moment... BUSTED!!!

I just finished The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, Michael Chabon's first book. It's good. I wasn't really that enchanted overall, but the last two chapters are brilliant. Basically, a guy gets out of college, and with a little assistance, turns his life upside down over the course of one summer. He does so very mundanely and emotionally (no heroin, and only a vague association with crime), but by the end of the book, it's hard to say if heroin could have done any worse (obviously, it probably could, but Chabon is a very good writer).

In the vein of people who have finished college, my Minneapolis-Carleton-grad friends scare the shit out of me. I stayed with them in the cities on Saturday, and we had a great time, but their waywardness dwarfs mine completely. It seems to be a universal affliction of people in their mid twenties. I'm in danger of waxing poetic here; the visit put me in quite a funk. Thankfully for you all I will indulge myself no further, lest this blog devolves into some sort of sissy blog for ninnies.

As Sciuto has already said, the iPhone is ridiculous. Before actually holding it, I was impressed, but relatively uninterested. I'm still relatively uninterested--I will not be owning one any time soon--but am now completely infatuated.

Well, that's about it for now; I'm off into the bowels of the Carleton library to find another book. If Sciuto ever finishes Brolita, I'll read it, but for now, I'll have to find something else. What is everyone else reading? Greg, I gotta know, how's Brolysses? Also, of equal or greater importance, how's Ireland? We haven't heard from you for a while, and though I completely understand, and am happily jealous of you, you could at least accost me for commandeering that staple of your internet humor, the use of caps, for my title, which, I must concede, you are better at. I should probably stick to inflated vocabulary and complex sentence structures.

If only these guys were playing at p-fork...

Excited for Pitchfork

Oh man.

Is anyone else excited for Pitchfork in two weeks? First of all, who all is going? I realize that I'm not even sure who is living in Chicago right now or visiting for all the silly music and times. So, role call. Who will be there?

Secondly, I'm pumped for the line up. I just want to lay out right now my ideal Saturday:

1:30 - Califone*
3:00 - Grizzly Bear**
4:00 - Battles
5:00 - Iron and Wine (this may be tricky to get to as it involves much traveling back and forth between stages)
7:15 - Dan Deacon
8:30 - Girl Talk


Oh man. I mean, I'd miss Cat Power and Yoko Ono, but I have never even heard them anyway. There is no room for women-folk in my Saturday.

*So, James this is for you, I didn't really like Califone. James played them for me and I was always indifferent. Earlier today, they came up when my iPod was shuffling through all of my songs and I listened to Spider's House. That song is awesome. It got me pumped to actually see them live. Here's a creepy video version of that song:



Yeaaaa!

**I wonder if we can hang with Grizzly Bear. I know, totally immature fan-boy-esque of me... but... they fucking know who we are (kind of). They have mentioned Tom Fry by name and I'll be damned if that doesn't give us (don't get selfish on me, Tom) some kind of privilege, you know? I don't care how lame that sounds, I want to shake their hands (again).

Also, tangent, I was just reading the Grizzly Bear blog (because, fuck you, I do that sometimes), and I saw lots of awesome pictures from their tour and it got me thinking. I really want to be in a band. Like, for real. Can that happen next year? Anyone? We know enough people who play instruments. Like pile into a room and see what happens.

Xoxo,
Colin