Really really want.


The boyfriend bought me a couple of lovely things for xmas, including the Neil Young biography Shakey. I'm a huge Neil fan but haven't spent much time with him lately; I feel a revival coming on.

Also he got me this collection of NYC maps that I'm sure will give me many hours of fascination. I want to frame some of them for sure; they're beautiful.


Next year I'm going to take off the week of New Year's so I can devote more attention to the post-holiday sales. I hear they have great ones in London, and wouldn't that be fun? Seriously, get yerself over to Saks to check out their sale. Then, reeling from those marked-down-but-still-ludicrous prices, go to Kenneth Cole and those sales will seem quite reasonable in comparison. See? It's really a fine art of denial and deception, this shopping thing.


Well, I didn't hit the powerball thingy. Metafilter has been down since xmas...must be Matt's way of telling us all to get a life. The interweb was not much fun on xmas. I caught up on a lot of NY Times articles, got pissed and ate cookies, and went to bed early. Quite enjoyable.

I'm still fairly mad over this Joe Strummer thing.


So this morning I played lots and lots of xmas music on the radio. Some of my favorites I played twice, like "Fairytale of New York". It's just coincidence that I'm obsessed with NYC and this is also one of my favorite songs.

It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me, won't see another one
And then he sang a song
The Rare Old Mountain Dew
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you

But it did make me think about Christmas in the city.

Got on a lucky one
Came in eighteen to one
I've got a feeling
This year's for me and you
So happy Christmas
I love you baby
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true

I sent the boyfriend off to see his family this morning with the two bottles of wine he'd bought for his mother and father. He spent more than a hundred dollars on the two bottles; he always spends too much money buying presents.

They've got cars big as bars
They've got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
It's no place for the old
When you first took my hand
On a cold Christmas Eve
You promised me
Broadway was waiting for me

I wonder what would happen if I paid off his credit card for him? Would he get mad? Probably.

You were handsome
You were pretty
Queen of New York City
When the band finished playing
They howled out for more
Sinatra was swinging,
All the drunks they were singing
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night

I wrapped the bottles of wine for him...he's really bad at gift-wrapping, which I find endearing. I wrapped them in blue tissue paper and drew designs on them. The tissue paper was delicate, though, and I was nervous that he'd tear the paper when handling them, or worse, drop them. So I went in the broom closet where I keep all the bags I brought back from New York.

The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing "Galway Bay"
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas day

Sanrio, Takashimaya, Yellow Rat Bastard, Neiman Marcus, Kiehl's, Barneys. I picked out a small plain bag. Obsessive.

You're a bum
You're a punk
You're an old slut on junk
Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed
You scumbag, you maggot
You cheap lousy faggot
Happy Christmas your arse
I pray God it's our last

The roads were awful yesterday; we had to do traffic updates pretty much nonstop all day. I checked everything when I was at work though and things look good. I still worry about him when he travels, though, in that little crappy car of his.

I could have been someone
Well so could anyone
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can't make it all alone
I've built my dreams around you


I have no idea what this ad is all about, but it amuses and frightens me at the same time. I must be missing the concept completely.
This is my most humbuggy xmas ever, I think. It just started snowing; maybe that'll help. I just can't bring myself to give a damn, but I'm not trying too hard either.

I will be alone xmas after the boyfriend leaves in the morning to see his family. I haven't gotten any presents for anyone except my parents. The boyfriend told me last night he wants game books (like D&D). So the game store will probably not be crowded...that's cool. I hate xmas shopping. It would be kind of fun if everyone wasn't doing it at once. And the kids, and the music, and people shoving...it's awful. I don't think kids should get presents. Okay, they should get presents, but only, like, three.

I'll likely be working on xmas. I don't really mind working over the break because it helps out people who think xmas is important, and so many people take vacation that the workplace is kind of calm. You can slack or really concentrate on a project as you see fit.

The whole record side of the industry pretty much takes off the last three weeks of the year. They always call with their last records they're promoting for the year and ask what our plans are for the holidays. Where will we be going? Will we see any family? Wow, won't it be nice to have a break? In radio, of course, we don't get a break, and you think some of them would know that. But you know they're just being polite and you don't want to bring them down. So I always say something like, oh, I'm just going to take it easy, nothing special. Instead of the truth, which is, I can't very well power down the radio station now, can I, so I'll be working a double shift so someone else can see their family for the day.

No, that would be rude to say that. And pointless for everyone involved, because I wouldn't even get the satisfaction of complaining. Because I'm not unhappy, which is the weird part. I feel like it's unpatriotic or something to not care about xmas or having to work over the holiday. But there you go.


Lance pretty accurately nails that first Prada purchase.
My senior year of high school Alex liked me.

He parked down the street from my house and played the new Sonic Youth album really loud and didn't get out.

He would intercept me as I walked to auto shop class. He'd say hello in Spanish and make me say it back.

I liked Alex too but I didn't really know what to do with him since we couldn't understand each other very well. Sometimes he would talk to me in Spanish and I'd catch every fourth word. Mostly we just traded tapes. He gave me Caifanes and Solucion Mortal and some others; I gave him L7. We both liked the Cure and heavy metal.

He was from Mexicali. He had this habit of never putting gas in his ancient truck until it ran bone dry. I told him it was bad for the engine because it sucked sediment at the bottom of the tank through the lines but he didn't care.

We kissed sometimes but it didn't really go beyond that.

I still have a shirt he gave me, an old Pendleton wool shirt that'll last 50 years if the moths don't eat it.

I wonder where he is.
Joe Strummer: Why why why why why.

Will the kids know now? Will they know how cool he was? Will they listen? Will they get it?


That post below was supposed to be posted on the 18th, but I couldn't get Blogger to work without a mouse since the boyfriend stole it to use with his laptop. Same for yesterday, when I was going to blog a dream about me and my mom in Harlem. I don't really remember the dream now. I checked out The Nanny Diaries from the library and am halfway through it. It's pretty funny and has a lot of very realistic touches, like all the kids having ridiculous names. The kid the narrator takes care of is named Grayer.

Oh, that reminds me. I went over to a co-workers house last night for this little fun project that all the women in the company are working on. She's a morning DJ at my sister station. Also there was the (female) morning DJ at another sister station. So it was all us radio ladies, very fun. The woman who was hostess has two kids, a girl who's 7 or 8 and a boy who's 4. The boy was fairly quiet but the girl was a bit of a terror. Not ill-behaved really, just in-your-face, really into whatever you were doing. Not shy at all. When I was little, I was so shy that I would burst into tears and run away if a stranger spoke to me, and while it wasn't really fun for me, I wish more kids were like that.

I'm stunningly inappropriate when I talk to people about their kids; I wish I could help it but I can't. So at some point when the kids tear past us on the stairs, I burst out with, "I don't know how you manage it." She's a good sport, though, and laughs back at me, "Oh, I drink. A lot! And smoke!" "I'm already drinking," I wail. "I'd have to go to something much harder!" Then I finally manage to shut up.
Went home sick from work today, which I do practically never. Looks suspicious since Lord of the Rings opens today, but I'm actually sick and spent most of the day asleep.

My latest sweet gift from the universe is that I got made a moderator at People Talk Too Loud, a music discussion forum that I've been hanging around for a little over a year now. It's a small, close-knit group that's also remarkably friendly to newbies, and we've acquired some good participants in the past few months, but a couple of bad eggs will sneak in every so often. So the people who run it have recruited some of us who've been around a while to be extra eyes on the board to keep things civil. I feel ridiculously close to all these strangers; it's just one of those cool things about the interweb.

One of our newest members is Maggie Sonic, and I really hope she stays around. She's got a great blog and she's very involved in music as an artist/producer sort. Very cool; we have a number of people on the board who can offer this perspective and the women totally reprazent. Maggie also refers to her s.o. with the definite article, so I immediately felt a bond there.

Why 'the boyfriend' and not 'my boyfriend'? I like how it makes him so big and real in my head. I also think using the definite article does this magic word trick that nothing else could acomplish because it removes the possesive aspect (nobody owns anyone here) but then it also names him as the one, the only one, the boyfriend.



I haven't been very linky lately. I tend to think that everyone's already seen everything out there so why should I point it out?

I was going to blog about drinking anyway today, though, so Modern Drunkard's Bar Signs is quite topical and appropriate.

Inspired by some article I read yesterday about how champagne is poised to take off and be something more than a New Year's Eve drink for us Yanks, I picked up a bottle on the way home. It's delightful with hearty, greasy food, the article said, and I was also picking up a pizza. (It also said it's great with seafood--dry and takes a bit of the fishiness out.)

Actually, I picked up a 30-pack of Miller High Life in cans. It's the champagne of beers. It was also only 13 bucks!

But I also picked up some actual champagne, albeit probably the beer of champagnes...a $4 sparkling Italian white. It was a little too sweet, and just a little scangey in a way that I couldn't put my finger on, but it was good enough. I drank nearly the whole bottle, and the boyfriend finished off the rest when I said it would go to waste because I didn't have a stopper. It was really a bit too much booze for a weeknight, but I didn't get a legitimate hangover, so all's well that ends well.

It was fun to get champagne, though. When I brought it home, the boyfriend asked, what are we celebrating? I said, we're celebrating pizza! (And it also makes that delighful pop when you open it.)

It's nice to celebrate.


I need to quit whining about stuff that's not going to happen for another year and a half, for chrissakes.

Kate captures my joy of living in the moment perfectly:

Once you experience someone or something in linear time, in the flesh, everything's new. Everything's possible. The feeling of linear time is so sexy. It's what makes angels wish they were human. It's got to be one the best creations of the universe, and it's happening every second--for a limited time only!

Got to go grab me a piece of that linear time pudding pie.

Is that perfect or what? Right now is so awesome because you get to experience it, and even if it's shitty you get to transcend it and experience something else later. Why on earth would you waste now?


No blog yesterday because I used my lunch hour to --get this-- eat lunch. New sushi place in town, very exciting. I'm not the world's biggest sushi fan, but it's a really wonderful change of pace once in a while. Makes it very tempting for me to start eating fish again.

I'm waiting on an old college friend to come visit me. Maybe he'll take me to sushi.

The boyfriend will not take me to sushi ever because (as I've mentioned) he's not into food that has flavor. I'm a good enough girlfriend that I won't press the point, but I'm not good enough not to even bring it up even though I know what the answer is.

He had this really awful experience with an exgirlfriend who once made him go to an Indian restaurant. He of course wouldn't eat anything, and then she got mad at him when he didn't have money to pay for her.

I'm not that girl.

This old college friend lives in the city I may be moving to. For the first time last night, as I was falling asleep, I got a little scared about starting over. I'm a bit of an anomaly among my friends because I got hired full-time while I was still in college and have stayed at the same job (a job that's very prone to turnover, no less) ever since. But I realized pretty quickly that everything would most likely be just fine. It's just a little new.

I moved around a lot when I was little--two or three times a year most years until I was nine or so. My parents were nice enough to never move me in the middle of a school year, but my dad was a contractor and had to go where the jobs were. But we settled when I was nine, and I didn't move until I was 17. I was one of maybe two or three in my class going out-of-state for college, so that seemed big at the time. Now I've lived here longer than anywhere else, and I'm an adult on top of that.

Really I'm more excited about a move than scared of it, but I'm so happy with my current circumstances that it seems weird to mess with things. But as good as I'm doing, I think I can do better.

The really weird thing about this for me is that the geographic move is being caused by another kind of move, the move where I stop being the primary wage-earner. The move where I put my great career in question so that I can support my boyfriend. I'm very grateful that the boyfriend is on the way to a great, high-paying job, and I hope that makes things easier, but you see how I'm a little afraid that it might actually make things harder. Mostly because I'm stubborn and a bit of a control freak, and I'm afraid that giving up a share of my economic power will mean that I lose control.

But you know what? I trust my boyfriend so much. It really is all going to be okay.

I'm such an optimist.



Comments are back. We'll see how this goes.

I just got back from the chiropractor, but I wasn't there for me, I was there as moral support for the boyfriend, who was going for the first time on my recommendation. He was having pains in his hand, and I told him that the chiro is cheap and totally, instantly fixed me when my hands were hurting.

Some people just don't get chiropractors, or they're afraid of having their spine adjusted. I understand kinda, but in my head I yell at those people, You don't understand! The chiropractor makes you feel good! No, it's not exactly like your regular doctor, and that's why it's awesome!

The boyfriend was, I think, a little skeptical, but he was so bothered by the pain, and he trusted me.

And it worked!

And when I drove him home, he couldn't shut up about how magical it was, how much better he felt, and how much he liked the doctor. Just like me.
Mary Hansen from Stereolab was killed in an accident earlier.

Turn it up loud, so your ears throb.


Actual conversation I just had with myself:

Hey, I got a cookie in my box lunch today! That sure would be good right about now. Now, where did I put it?

Hey! Where's my cookie? I didn't accidentally throw it away with the box, did I? That would be tragic!

No, I took it out, brought it down to my desk, put it in my desk drawer, then immediately took it back out and ate it. So it must be...

Have I mentioned how I'm not a fan of winter?

Even when I lived in the desert it was no good. (It gets colder in the desert than people realize; it's just cold without snow.)

But now that I've lived in the midwest for going on ten (heaven help me!) years, I think I can say that there's not much good about winter. The snow is mildly amusing a couple of times, but mostly it just sucks.

Where is all the cactus? The palm trees? The mirage-pools of water on the highway and on the horizon?

I made tostadas last night for the boyfriend for the first time. He didn't know what they were. I wasn't sure he'd like them, but how can you go wrong with something that involves a fried tortilla? They were heavenly, he agreed. It tasted like a little piece of home, and I didn't even have green chiles for them.

It's odd how 'home' is a place that I don't plan on visiting, really, ever again.

I'm getting way off-topic.

Anyway, another part of what sucks about winter is that I drive to and from work in the dark. I don't see the sun except on weekends. (Windowless office.) Not that I'm outdoorsy, especially in winter, but still.

One of the few redeeming things about winter (and also of the miserable holiday season) (and also the dark drives) is little twinkly lights. Little twinkly lights make everything better. As I was driving to work this morning, I thought I should take pictures of little twinkly lights and use it as a banner for the blog.

I'll do that as soon as we get above seventy degrees.


A couple of music things that I am sooper late on:

The Streets: Very interesting; very English. Don't see myself listening to it a year from now, but it's a good document of a moment in English culture.

Ladytron: How did I miss this one? It is so right up my alley. Also, why when I was fifteen did I renounce all music not made by guitars? Bad move. I missed out on years of being a synth-pop apologist.

As usual, Allmusic is more helpful than the original sites: The Streets, Ladytron.


Yay for December and holiday gift baskets in the mail.

I am an awful person; I do not give, and when I receive, I never share. I am currently 3/4 of the way through a box of chocolates and feeling mildly (yet almost pleasantly) sick.

I did get my parents their Christmas gift yesterday, the major gift anyway. Ludicrously expensive bedsheets marked down to regular expensive. My dad in particular loves good linens but has never splurged on a really nice set.

Work calls.


Work was a little busy yesterday; sorry no blog. I got a burst of productivity at the end of it all though, made me feel good.

Yesterday for the first time I let someone in the industry know I was thinking about moving. This is kind of serious, as one is supposed to play these cards close. But she's a good person and she's about to leave for three months of maternity leave. So I took a chance and told her in confidence and she said some things that were really encouraging regarding my chances in radio in this new city.

Now, it's the record label people's job to be really nice and kiss my ass a little. They're promotion people, salespeople in a way, and you gotta do what you gotta do to close the deal. I can respect that. But everything they say must be taken with a grain of salt.

I wanted to believe her, though, and so I did. She mentioned a position that might open up at a radio station, and both the position and the station are a really good fit for me.

Radio is different from a lot of other jobs for a variety of reasons. If you're a DJ, you don't just move to a new city and get a job in your field. Usually you get the job and then move to wherever the job is. If it's your goal to work in a big city, you jump jobs a lot in the beginning, trying to work your way up. Usually people don't get to take big 'jumps,' going from market #100 to market #10 or whatever. I'm trying to make a much bigger jump than that. It's pretty daunting. I think I've got a lot of things going for me, though.

The other scary part comes if I even get a job in radio. The fun little dance that I do with the record labels now becomes a lot more serious in a big city. Things could get interesting.


Okay, hi, I'm back. The Amazon thing is so creepy. I threw out all the crap and told it I owned YHF, and this is what it recommended next:

1. When I Was Cruel ~ Elvis Costello
2. 89/93 ~ Uncle Tupelo
3. Sea Change ~ Beck
4. Is This It ~ The Strokes
5. Stereo (w/ Grandpaboy Bonus Disc) ~ Paul Westerberg
6. White Blood Cells ~ White Stripes
7. A Rush of Blood to the Head ~ Coldplay
8. Chelsea Walls ~ Jeff Tweedy,
9. Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots ~ The Flaming Lips
10. Veni Vidi Vicious ~ Hives
11. Sidetracks ~ Steve Earle
12. Jerusalem ~ Steve Earle
13. Daybreaker ~ Beth Orton
14. Sebastopol ~ Jay Farrar
15. Demolition ~ Ryan Adams

I own ALL OF THESE ALBUMS. Except for Chelsea Walls, WHICH I WAS MEANING TO BUY. I also like all of them, and love almost all of them.

Sorry, I know this is not new to anyone but me, but it's pleasantly freaky. I could waste some time on this for sure, but I'd better get home now so I can beat the rush hour.
Also, I started playing with Amazon's wishlist. Not for the blog, because I find that a little weird personally, but for the boyfriend, who may very well tickle me to death if I fail to provide him with ideas on what to get me for Christmas.

I'm not very big on Christmas. Maybe that has to do with not being Christian. Maybe that has to do with being cheap. Maybe I don't feel worthy of gifts. Maybe I'm just fine with the way things are the other days of the year.

I do like the days off, though.

Anyway, I put a bunch of books about NYC history on my wishlist. Then I found the 'suggestions' feature and wondered, what music would Amazon think that I'd like, seeing as I've only told it that I like NYC history (and also motorcycles, I think)?

Bernadette Peters Loves Rodgers & Hammerstein. Of course. Lotsa Broadway stuff, and lotsa awful faux-classical. Oh, and The Rising. And Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, which I actually do love, but that doesn't make me special. Summerteeth is still much dearer to my heart, though.

Oh, man, there's an album called The Most Relaxing Classical Album in the World...Ever!

Stupid comments. I'm taking them off until they start working better.
I'm all angry inside because of war and injustice and Poindexter and torture and I just don't know what to do or how to think.

I'm a stupid American with too much time on my hands.

Denial is the answer.

Find Outlet - Annual Holiday Sale 12/5/2002 12/8/2002
Hours - Thurs - Sun: 12 PM - 7 PM
Find Outlet is having their amazing holiday sale at both locations so double your pleasure! Find everything your holiday heart desires for that fabulous female on your list, especially if it's YOU! Holiday clothing, chunky sweaters, coats and gorgeous gifts are priced for the taking and the generous giving!

The Goods: Fendi wallets were $325, now $165, Burberry scarves were $155 now $69, Seven Jeans were $120 now $26, Paper denim cloth pants were $130, now $35, Blumarine dresses were $845 now $99; Emma Black beaded silk tops were $150 now $49, V is for Violet separates were $180 - $249 now $39 - $59. Also look for Nuala by Christy Turlington Yoga clothing starting at just $9.

Find Outlet
361 W. 17th St. (btwn. 8th & 9th Ave.)
New York NY 10011
(212) 243-3177

229 Mott St. (btwn. Prince & Spring Sts.)
New York NY 10012
(212) 243-3177


I had a dream about bloggers last night. For real.

I dreamed that a bunch of people were meeting in the woods for an old-fashioned campout. I went too early and there were only two people there. One of them was Tony, and I introduced myself to him with my real name, and he said hi to me, but he was using Ernie's voice. I was so freaked out that I forgot to introduce myself again as teeny. I just turned around and left without finding out who the other person was.

I realized that I hadn't brought any food to share with the rest of the bloggers, so I left the awkward situation and set out to get some food and probably beer too. For some reason I was in the radio station vehicle, which is a huge death trap but has lots of storage space. I was bouncing along in the truck and I realized that Kate was going to be there. And I could see the future stretching out before me, how we'd be sitting around the campfire singing great rock songs together, me and Kate and the rest of the bloggers. And I started trying to remember the chords to "Talk Dirty To Me," which is really fun to do all wistful-Jewel-style because it takes a while to get to the hook and then it's even more of a big punch line when people realize what song it is.

That's about all there was to the dream. I never actually made it back to the campsite. I swear this is all true. I don't have any idea what it could possibly mean.