Magic Jewball

OK, so now for the real post, which is hard because all the caffeine seems to have worn off. I guess I should just be glad to still be alive, however. Rockin’. So how tired am I? So tired that I paid the Korean bodega lady this morning for my banana with what I thought was a quarter but instead turned out to be a Euro. Then I stared at her blankly as she tried to give it back to me. Oops. Especially because I’m supposed to be holding onto that Euro for a friend with whom I lost a bet. I guess I shouldn’t be carrying it around with the rest of my change.

But I digress. Anyway, have you ever boarded a plane with absolutely no luggage? And by the time you check in for your outbound flight the inbound flight is ready for check-in as well because it’s later the same day? Oh fine, you’re all hotshots. But I have never done that and did so yesterday. That’s right, I flew to Chicago for the day to see DuJane! I know, I know, it’s shocking we’ve never met, especially because this is the third attempt and both previous trips were thwarted by my own fickleness. But finally it happened!

How did I accomplish this? I started by getting up at the crack of dawn…no, I meant to do that but instead I just didn’t bother going to sleep. I mean it’s Saturday night, you get home late, and then you’re supposed to get up at 3:30am? Who needs that? Not me. Not many people need to get anywhere at 4am on a Sunday morning. Witness my subway station in all its desolation.

Luckily, the Airtrain was a bit more populated than this and by the time I got to JFK it was actually pretty bustling. Shockingly, the second the plane took off, I was completely asleep and five seconds later we landed. Those JetBlue people really know how to fly!

Outside, I immediately noticed that the New York heatwave seems not to have hit Chicago, but before I could freeze, there they were, Jane & Hot Guy, looking just like their pictures. We went to a pancake house where my blueberry compote was actually defrosted frozen blueberries, Jane’s apple pancakes were roughly equivalent to an Entenmann’s cake in size, and Hot Guy ordered everything on the menu that we didn’t. Then it was off to the mall, because, well, to me that’s exotic. In highly inefficient style we wandered aimlessly from area to area and probably covered the entire place 35 times. “Wait, I know we were in this area because I remember that shoe store across from that jewelry store.” It was like that. Luckily, Jane was on a mission to find boots and so I was allowed to sit down in all the shoe stores and contemplate what kind of bright idea it was to not sleep at all the night before. (Before you ask, she found some! Granny-bondage boots, that’s right.)

Here’s Jane, pre-boots, in Janeville. Yes, this is an actual store in the mall.

Later, we rejoined our chauffeur and had dinner at a microbrewery/dinner place where the waitress blamed her poor service on the fact that she had spent the night watching the entire season of 24 on DVD. I deducted 24% from her tip (no, not really, please no angry letters).

Then it was back to O’Hare (why, it seemed like I had just been there that morning!) for hugs and goodbyes. I can now reveal that Jane’s real talent is walking around in inhumanly high heels and Hot Guy’s is Simpsons quoting, something you know I value in a person. Once in the airport I walked three miles to find JetBlue’s one lonely gate. I guess it’s not really a known quantity there, as a woman in our waiting area said, “What is this? Is this a new airline or something?” Hey lady, they have a whole terminal in New York, so there. As if it weren’t late enough already, some people didn’t want to get on the plane because the Giants game being shown on the TV was tied. It seems not to have worked out too well for them. I, however, was asleep in my bed 20 hours after I had left. How I wish I were there right now.

Jane’s Addiction – Jane Says

I actually have something else to post about today but at the moment I have some breaking news. I’m living in a gas station. At first, I thought it was just me. My apartment smelled like gas but it occasionally does when the building next door is getting a delivery. Then the subway smelled like gas but I was half-asleep so didn’t think anything of it. Then my office smelled like gas and I figured I was just insane. But a co-worker tells me it’s the whole city! I don’t know whether to be freaked the fuck out or super-excited that I’m not as insane as I thought I was.

Jane just sent me this link:
Gas-like odor permeates Manhattan

Yay!

Edited to add: Bloomy’s giving a press conference. I don’t mean to panic anyone but I’m pretty sure we’re all going to die.

Edited again to add: Welcome people visiting from blog-search-engines. I sure linked to the right article. Doesn’t J-Ball look pretty on one of these sites?

This week I was having a discussion with Kay over e-mail about what were the bitterest songs we knew. I have several good choices but I think this one tops my list. Maybe I’ll share the others at some later date. In any case, I was hesitant to use this song because he has much better ones and really, if the purpose of this exercise is to remind you of songs you once liked, I should really go with the 1995 hit, “Sick of Myself.” But I wasn’t reminded of that song this week, I was reminded of this other one.

Matthew Sweet is one of my favorite artists and the album from which this comes, Girlfriend, is my absolute #1 album of all time. The year I got turned onto him I was working at the record store where we would spend long, boring afternoons debating what the most depressing song on this album is. There are many candidates. But I always thought of this song because, you know, it took him years to figure out everything he has figured out in this song. But now I kind of know better. This is a song of bitterness, not a song of depression, and since Matthew was going through a divorce at the time, I guess he knew what he was talking about. It’s not even the lyrics so much although they give you the reason for his bitterness, but more the way he spits them out, his hurt and his anger and his indignation in every line.

The other great thing about this song and this album is that they are entirely under-produced. All you hear is the song; this one has a false start (with an apology!), is acoustic, and there are no drums on it at all. It could almost be a demo.

Matthew Sweet - Thought I Knew You

Yes, that title sets things up for a serious post but I fooled you! Nope, it’s not serious at all. That line just happened to be in my head when the following occurred. See, when I walk around on the sabbath, I don’t have my iPod so my brain just makes the necessary substitutions and today it happened to be playing the song from which that line comes as I was walking to synagogue. Luckily I’ve heard it about 1400 times and so my brain can just go on auto-pilot.

But as I’ve mentioned before, without the magic white buds in my ears I am just a magnet for homeless people to accost me and naturally, one did today. Actually, I mistook him for a person who could afford a hipster haircut and a leather coat but only because he was sporting a hipster haircut and a leather coat. I know they have that coat donation thing this time of year but I had no idea that they also had an expensive salon program as well. Silly me.

So I just kind of assumed he was going to ask me for the time or something. I knew the time, you see: late. Late for synagogue. Instead he began a long speech about how he just needed something to eat, any kind of food, etc. I listened patiently (although I kept walking) because I already knew I had nothing to give him. At the end of his speech I said, “I’m sorry, I don’t carry any money on my sabbath.” Because, you know, I’d be handing you my whole wallet if it weren’t.

If you thought that a homeless guy on the Upper West Side automatically understood that a girl in a skirt carrying a prayer book on a Saturday morning would have no money, you would be correct, sir! For some reason, though, he also thought he had gravely offended me by even asking and proceeded to apologize profusely. He then said in a humble tone, “I am fully aware of all that.” Well, excellent, I’m glad we have that all settled then. Onwards with the mental iPod then. That worked out well until I passed the autobody shop blasting Roxette’s “It Must Have Been Love.” If you find that I have shoved that earworm into your head, feel free to click the link below or the new iPod Song of the Week. I put it up early since I won’t be around tomorrow. Much better.

Neil Finn - The Climber

Hm, evidently that last one was a bit on the morbid side so let me just write something short to say that it is unspeakably warm here, I didn’t need a coat today, and I was able to go to the park last night in the evening.

And yet I would trade it all for this.

Yes, people seem to love this and I admit, this is my favorite kind of weather, not too cold, not too warm, but enough already. Next week it’s supposed to go down to the 40’s but you can’t have snow in the 40’s, so what use is it to me?

Sunday is supposed to be the last day of freakish weather but I won’t be here for it. More on that after the weekend.

This song has nothing to do with the topic except for the first word of the title (and recurring line). Oh, and that it’s freakish.

The Normal – Warm Leatherette