i have really good feelings about 30 so far. 

i *was*, in fact, comforted by a tuna tower.  not to mention a really good cocktail and baked goods in honor of blair waldorf's impending judaism.  this, my friends, is how tv should be watched.  nina is some kind of tv-theme-food deity.

also, gossip girl was hours ago, and i JUST parked the van, but on the way there was some kind of queen marathon, which was as good a consolation prize as any.

today i saw my chuck bass again. ok, he's not chuck bass in any way, but his fashion would definitely be chuck-approved, and he is probably my one and only four-idol walking around this big city.  so far, at least.  i used to see him at oren's by my ex-work, and think i may have even given him the previous honor of an LJ mention.  he is kind of head-turningly fashionable, not to mention, well, quite attractive.

this afternoon, he was decked in a really nice fitted-tweedy brownish herringbone jacket, a deep/bright pink bowtie with a paisley-ish pattern, a gold watch chain emerging from his front pocket, a brown fedora with a perfect pink accent, a few aptly placed rings, a crisp shirt, his usual angular spectacles, white hi-top chucks, and perfect tight-ish dark blue jeans, cuffed with an air of genius.

love.  this is what i want to be when i grow up.  or date; either one, preferably both. 

i can't quite get my head around this evening's events.  all i know is 1) i'm still awake with adrenaline and 2) never before have i had the experience of literally running down the streets screaming and hi-fiving people in cars and having people respond in kind to the tune of an impromptu dance party, let alone for anything remotely electoral.  surreal, amazing.  historic-feeling in this way that felt kind of physical.  i think a part of me is resisting going to sleep because i am savoring the alternate-universe-earth-shaking-exuberant-beaming-everyone-hugs-everyone buzz of this particular night.  well, ok, not resisting that much.  so tired.  but still.  wow.

i just had my first motorcycle ride.  i think i'm officially in love.

this year more than ever, rosh hashana has snuck up on me without warning.  probably has something to do with being on tour.  but while it's always disorienting to not feel Ready for this holiday, something about it happening also tends me to give me a kick in the ass on the readiness front, and i'm kind of excited to spend the next couple of days thinking on the coming year and doing tashlich in the pacific ocean.  i have an atypically anticipation-filled feeling about the coming year, and am looking forward to new home, new friends, new era, new lots of things.  i am currently driving right along the sparkling pacific coast and i don't think there's a better omen for a new year's intention than that.

anyway: happy and sweet new year!  l'chayim.  and see you on the other side.

on the blustery sidelines of the beach in santa monica:

-one very old dandy with gold+red cane, velour jacket, tipped red beret
-two mumus
-two exuberant european sevens on segways, moving at slightly the wrong speed, one wearing lots and lots of pink paisley

does anyone happen to know any radical jews in LA?  or anyone in LA who might be involved in a community where there MIGHT be a community-wide Rosh Hashana plan that we could work our way into?  i think i'd prolly know it by now if you did, but let me know - i'm hoping there is challah+honey in our not-too-distant future and that's gonna be kinda hard in LA, unless we just go to casa walsh and refuse to leave until cindy comes out and serves us high holiday fare.  (which would totally eventually happen.)

(one of many gems to come out of a long treacherous ride home from st louis the other day)

10. Accountant
9.  Shepherd
8.  Glass-blower
7.  Tax Lawyer
6.  Professional organizer, home and office
5.  Bridge-builder
4.  Pilot/navigator
3.  Trucker
2.  Anything that requires folding clothes
1.  Roller coaster engineer

I think something weird and transforming happens to my muscles every time we tour.  Like, they come of age in some different way.  My wrists and forearms have been building strength since I've been playing, but tonight, as I somewhat antsily waited for show goings-on to stop going on, sitting at our merch table, my wrists and forearms approached the sixteenth notes they were habitually playing on my lap in a slightly less tense way.  And then I kind of processed: I've noticed my playing change - not necessarily in how it sounds, but in how it feels.  And this is heartening.  Especially on tour, when hanging out with tens of wankerly drummers can get exhausting and discouraging to those of us relatively early in our drummerly evolution.

PS I just blogged about a four cat: www.shondes.blogspot.com

There are so many fucking bizarre four-sightings on this tour.  I just saw one yesterday in an enormous black bonnet.  No joke, stiff huge brim and all.  Jet black.

I am in a van on the internet and wide awake, none of which ceases to be novel.  Still, there is quite a sizeable part of me that would slightly prefer to be somewhere with dwindling Shabbos candles and really good challah.  But it's tour; that's to be expected.

Also: anyone know anyone anywhere in the country who could give me a good haircut touchup?  This is becoming more and more crucial daily.

first question: why why why am i awake?  damn you saturn.  i have insomniac-ed the night away the last 87 nights, so i really thought this one would be different.

second question: why, if i must be awake, am i compulsively menu-planning?  i could be using this time wisely - you know, spending more here-comes-tour-promote-your-soul-away time on myspace dot com, or watching more old olympics footage, or making lists about lists i need to make before i leave town next thursday.  but instead i'm planning elaborate autumn feasts.  you know, the kinds with courses.  and fancy drinks.  november is still ripe for such things, no? 

i think maybe because i preemptively resent missing brooklyn october.  my own fault, i know, but still.

i had a lovely weekend, including a last stint to coney, and i wish for mojito slushies daily, thank you.

the end.
 

http://www.dresdendollsdiary.blogspot.com/

if i could have watermelon slush even just *once* with amanda palmer and neil gaiman together, well, i'd be an extremely happy man.  though it might have to be spiked slush, so my starcrush mortification wouldn't get in the way.

http://www.ruinedmusic.com/

my own (very embarassing but very true) mixtape story.

guys?  i am alone in vermont on a weird empty campus in a fluorescent library with a lot of very strange snooty percussionists.  surreal.

1.  I like big open spaces.  I also love warm, colorful trinkety clutter.  It is hard to tell whether these things are at odds, or in cahoots.  Prolly both.
2.  Our new apartment has one and a HALF bathrooms, and the half bathroom is PINK.  From head to toe.  I can't wait to primp in it.
3.  I find ice water with a tiny bit of sweetened lime juice to be supremely refreshing.
4.  Our new lobby is full of faux flowers.
5.  I am disoriented when I am not surrounded by Things to Read, even when I am not actually reading them.
6.  Despite their dorm-room and family holiday connotations, I remain wholly convinced that there are craftful and fashionable ways to put to use The Christmas Light.  Maybe it's because I'm part vamp, and I anticipate needing lair-level-lighting for winter brooding.
7.  Moving makes me feel generally productive.  So I feel all mover-butch, grunting a bed frame up stairs, and then I go home and bake chocolatey things, o whimsical hulk that I've become.

In conclusion, I am tour-promoting 24-7, desperately seeking interim and perma-employment, halfway-moving, finishing an essay that's due WEDNESDAY, and heading to Vermont for drum camp this week.  These are pretty great things, but somehow  feel very overwhelmed-transitional-busy, and like I wish I had a very, very large theme party to attend when it was all over.

Dear weekend,

You were sweltering and you have left me a really weird shade of hot pink, only in select areas of the shoulders, the parts that were not under the shade of the bus stop this morning when it was too early and i wasn't paying attention to my poor skin.  Culinarily, you were satisfactory - at moments, inspired - you brought spicy garlicky borscht, which, while seasonally appropriate, did the trick at almost every meal  You brought two delectable types of homemade cookies which, contrary to popular expectation, turned out to be a hit among the Park Slope stoop-sailing masses (quoth This One Lady: "How much would I need to give you to clear you out?").  You brought late night pizza, lots of iced coffee, summery salad, and a really really disappointing manifestation of something masquerading as 'guacamole' in something that was supposedly a 'guacamole-themed birthday party.'  I did not know this birthday person, and was resentful that you, weekend, steered me to somewhere in Williamsburg for sub par mashed avocado.  But I forgave you, since it meant catching up with dear old friends and spending lots of time outside which, despite the heat wave factor, always makes it seem like all the most exciting things about summer.

You brought some extremely unfortunate broker-debacles, and some more disheartening apartment visits, followed by a visit to a whimsi-cottage that I hope hope hope will be the one!  I have been knocking on various wood things all day in the hopes that - weird tour schedule and all - the nice landlady person will take me for my charm and good fashion.  Also, you brought a great combo of a good deal of socializing and a fair amount of solitude - way to go, weekend.  Sadly, you brought not nearly enough sleep and not nearly enough writing and for these things, I - now and forever - resent you.  You brought a strange combo of Patty Griffin - The Magnetic Fields - Andy Statman on various loops, and a taste for lemonade.  (Especially after, during my stoop sale, the girl from the Lemonade For Obama operation down the block walked all the way over with the express purpose of handing me a dixie-cup-full.)  You brought reminders of weird old crushes and the strange satisfaction of suddenly recalling a latent crush, some strong scent or particular song or word or whatever it is that reminds you, and just brings you right back.  

You made me flirt with a gay dog walker extensively as he was buying an old rainbow-striped shirt of mine, and you made me read a lot of bizarre and extensive classic rock articles.  Unclear why; most likely brought on by a wee bit too much time spent on public transit.

You came complete with lots and lots of lists, strange coincidences, reminiscing, some treasure-hunting, and some agonizing.  Also, thanks for the alcoholic punch.  I don't know what was in it but it was perfect and tangy and sweet and cold, and I like that in a weekend drink.

xo
Me

Shabbos can officially start now, as I have made a stunning pot of borscht.  There are like 40 heads of garlic in there.  And more hot sauce than there should be.  So it's actually *subversive* borscht.  As well as being delicious.  Mm.

"But she is hoping someday somebody will take her away."

-amanda palmer

"I don't believe in the sun
How could it shine down on everyone
and never shine on me?
How could there be
such cruelty?"

-stephin merritt

And found myself alone
Alone
Alone above a raging sea
That stole the only girl I loved
And drowned her deep inside of me

-robert smith (the cure)

You know when you go somewhere to 'work,' and you literally run into EVERY AWKWARD PERSON you've EVER MET since the dawn of time?  And thus work is rendered impossible?  Also, your brother is playing the oud in the background.