So there's not much debate about the new
Snow Patrol record,
Eyes Open (
Amazon US,
Amazon UK,
CD Wow). It's not as good as
Final Straw, I have to admit. It's not as immediately engaging (though that's almost not fair since
FS opened with "How To Be Dead," quite possibly one of my favorite opening tracks of all time...) and after my fifth or sixth listen, there are still songs I'm not interested in listening to. It's more confident, that's for sure, but also a little safer.
All the same, they will be in Pontiac (yes, Michigan!) on June 9, so whoever plans to join me make sure you leave a comment soon.
I'm not typically a fan of these
AOL Sessions, but the Snow Patrol one is pretty good. The performances are much better than the interviews.
Chasing Cars (my favorite track from
Eyes Open)
Hands Open
Run (where Gary Lightbody forgets the words to the chorus!!)
You Will You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. (cover of Bright Eyes done with three acoustics)
You're All I Have
At least the pull off the songs well live. Maybe the record will grow on us more c@it and Stosh....
New post at
Shake Your Fist on Michigan duo Breathe Owl Breathe.
I can't stop listening to "Femme Fatale" by Ours. Corrin reminded me that I like this record and this song has captured my ears.
On the way to the Y this morning I passed a gas station. "Oh, $2.75 is pretty good," I said out loud, because I talk to myself all the time, especially when I'm driving. But I elected to wait and get gas later because I was too tired and needed the hot tub to wake me up. When I finally stopped for gas after work, the same place was now charging $2.95. It shouldn't cost $30 to fill up my little Saturn. I should ride my bike more. Or get a rickshaw.
I've been reading this book called
The Bastard on the Couch (
Amazon) and I'm highly entertained. A chapter snuck up on me though called "A Bachelor's Fear" that contains a paragraph this both accurately captures the stream of consciousness way my head works most of the time and so many of things I've thought/journalled/said to friends. (Forgive the length of the passage--feel free to skip to the end if you're either busy or not interested.)
There were also those mornings, especially holidays and weekends and times between assignments, when I had no plans, when my buddies were out of town or with their wives or girlfriends, when I wondered if I would die alone, when I wished there was someone next to me, someone sweet and loving and warm and funny and sexy, someone who, even if she might curtail my sports-page reading and sleeping late and e-mail checking, might let me hold her, might hold me, might ask me to help her work the crossword puzzle, might murmur with affection as I worried aloud about a vexing work project, who might bear my children, grow misty-eyed at how I would teach the little rascals to be strong and to shoot baskets and how to be helpful and sensitive to others' feelings while remaining true to their own convictions, who would indulge my sneaking them sweets between meals and telling them scary stories at bedtime, who might agree–exuberantly–to be my partner while we moved through the world, shoulder to shoulder, fingers interlocked, someone who would stroll underneath aged oak trees with me as we turned white and wrinkled, leaning on each other, someone whose fears I might help recognize as puny phantoms compared to our enduring and transcendent bond, someone who might liberate me from the crushing burden of myself."-Steve Friedman, "A Bachelor's Fear"-
That's my favorite overly long sentence of all time I think.
That sentence welled up something inside me last night when I read it. Instead of bringing about a big sigh and help me feel (more) sorry for myself, it caused this incredible happiness for my friends who have found that kind of person. Maybe not the idyllic and naive "everything-will-be-perfect" vision those of us on the unrealized side of marriage--but the companionship and deep peace they find from another person. I felt a true joy for them. I really can say "I'm happy for you."
I would have to change the above 'sports page' example to music magazines. I need to read a greater percentage of a lesser number of them.
Stephen Baldwin is still not my friend on myspace. I don't know what I did....
Exit music: "On The Bus Mall" by The Decemberists.
