whoa! we’re gonna have a party

Some things you never forget. For me, these things include the entire ninety word title of Fiona Apple’s second album. And where I was when I first encountered the Vengaboys. It was in a fancy hotel in Helsinki, if you were curious. It was also, not coincidentally, I feel, where I first encountered a bidet (I was mystified).

Also, I need to remember that, in order to function, I have to hear “We’re Going to Ibiza” at least once in every 90 day period.

Jesus fuck

Christ. I was mistaken. There is, in fact, at least one musician that I loathe more than Rufus Wainwright and Devendra Banhart combined.

Hina na ho ho

Much of today was spent mopping and feeling like this:

Hangovers can be wonderful, sometimes.

Meanwhile, The Return of the Real has been accumulating dust on my bedside table while I concern myself with more pressing matters. Like jingle dress dancing and Jason Mraz.

Points

• I think I used up my weekly allotment of enthusiasm thinking about that George Baker essay.
• As such, I cannot summon the interest to fully consider what possible significance there might be in having two sexy-airport music videos come out within two weeks of one another (One, Two). 70′s revivalism : yearning for pre-AIDS sexual license : : fantasies of airport debauchery : weariness with/incredulity of the “heightened security” of the last 5 years? Not quite. I know there’s decent analogy for what’s beginning to look like the dominant music-video zeitgeist, coming out of the second quarter (the invisible specter of a lustful Kelly Clarkson’s assaults an unfaithful ex-boyfriend in an airport terminal, airport men’s room in her newest clip, which seemed to have got ganked from YouTube), but I’m too tired to really think about it more.
• Freelance work sucks for more reasons than simply because “freelancing” is a polite way of saying “unemployed.” Web design, from a business perspective, is not something I was cut out for.

and this