Summer Jam

Do yourself a favor and go see Jamie Lidell live! I want to be, like one-fifth the handsome, glorious weirdo that man is. Can I move to Berlin, too?

This is nice

La Blogotheque and the Bowerbirds = sheer summer perfection! And nice, oh-so-french, writing that nails New York: “All there is is warmth, a warmth which blooms thanks to the promiscuity of imbricated bodies, in the discomfort of the places where we are stacked altogether.” I’ve probably mentioned that they’re a really striking, pulchritudinous band before, but if not; seeing them live with some friends, I could’ve sworn that we were all struck by their beauty, but it wasn’t just physical, there’s a calmness to their songs, that implies that their hearts have some sort of warm secret to existence, some knowledge of being true and human and I want to feel that way too.

I haven’t said too much lately. I’ve been going to Montreal and playing “The Hold Steady Drinking Game,” (hint: for b-list city or town, try Belchertown, Massachusetts!) where Stu schooled me, quite rightly, on Craig Finn-style freelancing [ha-I meant “freestyling” but I like the freudian slip]. It felt a little unfair since I’m the lapsed Catholic in the relationship.

I miss things, but it’s probably painfully obvious as to what those things are if you’ve read this blog so far. I noticed that I repeat myself: Often, lately, and very very very much on this blog. Again, it’s really annoying that Stu beat me in the Hold Steady Drinking Game.

I don’t have that much to say for now, in particular, nothing too original, at least in this blog-outlet. I’m going to have to take a summer break for now. I did get a Brooklyn library card last week, which felt wildly empowering. Anything can happen!

P.S. Sherman’s, I still love you: I’m just inherently lazy a lot of the time, (I do wish the article mentioned that Symbol of Gentrification Coffeehouse was next door in winter!) and sometimes former freelancers crave the friendliness/anonymity of cute girls who give you better coffee and remember your soup order, as much as I love your dreamy denizens like Boy Without God (and who wouldn’t, it’s like James McAvoy started a folk side-project!).

Where you lead

My mood lately= very Gilmore Girls. I miss that show! When I have the time I want to write about the sad evolution of Rory.

I would really like, though, to have a nice cozy house in an adorably small town. Right now. That’s been my mood for the past month. Maybe because I haven’t spent a proper weekend in New York for the past four weeks? Or the fact that I would like things to get a little more settled down so that life can feel as cheesy as Capra-corn, soft as a pretty Sondre Lerche song from Dan In Real Life.

The Lady Killigrew is a magical place, by the way. I love it there.

Remember Okkervil River?

I still really like them.

Signs I’m wildly overtired: This performance got me weepy. Lots of Okkervil River memories in my life, very pleasant ones. If I had to put it in terms relative to the last album, it’s like they’ve been the special guest band in the TV series that is my life. Metaphorically. Like they’re always playing the Peach Pit? Or they’re Buffalo Tom in that My So Called Life episode? This is a weak overtired metaphor. But it’s kind of true.

Additionally: The Wackness could be a huge summer hit, if they market it right. I don’t know if they are. I have some qualms about it, but overall, great movie. I like the director. He said that I could definitely write something on him in the future. Just make sure to tell the press people “we’re homies.” Aw.

Happily, I’m going to a great sounding Shearwater show on Monday. I believe that I will be overtired enough that it will drive me to shaking, shuddering, snotty tears. Weeping. That’s my prediction, at the least.

Occasionally (see “Becky” or “The Kelly Affair”) Be Your Own Pet are the best band ever. Sometimes the lead singer sounds like she’s in Sleater Kinney. I just wish they kept that up!
P.S. Maureen Johnson, Suite Scarlett, it’s delicious.

A career with a future

When Dan Rather takes your hand, it is a benediction. Straight-on eye contact, grasping your hand, placing his spare hand on top, blessing you.

The Moviegoer and The Sportswriter are pretty much the same book. Additionally, I am thoroughly relating to the both. The latter has a chapter where the main character conducts an interview, and wow, I’ve been there. Trying to connect, can’t connect, someone’s an open wound.

What does that mean for state of mind?

Ever irrationally hate a state?

I’ve never been a big proponent of Florida: have had historically bad luck with friends from Florida, have spent embarrassing time in foreign countries watching American films about the depravity and callous youth of Florida, have more suspicion about Florida due to shows like Dexter.

That being said, I’m going to Key West in two weekends or so for an event. Alone, taking small planes, freaking out about possible panic attacks. I know Ernest Hemingway’s house is down there, I’ve been making lots of palm tree doodles on notebooks, drawing an old man in the sea fishing for martinis. It’s how I get by. I wouldn’t ever choose to go to Florida. Not when there’s better states in the union.

There are two things on my agenda when I get back:

1) get a bike (Yay!)

2) do my 2007 taxes (that too!)

I’m going to be blogging about the Tribeca Film Festival in earnest for the next two weeks. Regular posting at this location should start on Friday or so.

I’ve been busy

Recent writings:

Shotgun Stories! (Go see it when it comes out. It’s a good movie.)

David Gordon Green! v2! (and with that, am I going to write about anyone else from the North Carolina School of the Arts this year? I suspect possibly.)

Videos, long and short, mainly featuring Carrie Brownstein from Sleater-Kinney!

All Ages promoters and venues in Boston and Providence!

The Nicole Atkins cd is really quite good, and I find myself listening to Santogold a lot. I may also buy some Yelle tracks for the gym. MTV, you convinced me!

P.S. If you play the trumpet, and you like fun, and you want to run with a crowd of impossibly sexy, slightly intimidating, terrifically Dionysian revelers from Providence, you should join this band: What Cheer? Brigade.

Breaking!

The Flight of the Conchords photoshoot for the new issue of BUST magazine is both brilliant and totally dreamy.

Scans later, maybe?  After I pull these photos down from my locker!

Stay sweet! Love, Elisabeth

Things To Know Part 1

I moved to New York–Brooklyn to be precise (you become what you mock or gently tease)–which is great. I’ve been couch surfing for the past two weeks, I’m in week three, I should have a home by next Tuesday.

1) The new Gutter Twins album is very good. I still couldn’t bring myself to see Fat Greg Dulli live; the clash of the older fatter childhood crush and no-one to make out with post show made it appear like a futile quest for transcendence.

2) If you are living with someone, a significant other, and they move out for reasons happy or sad or what have you, remember this: Don’t stay in the same apartment, even if you love it, for an extra month. It will depress you. It is emotionally wrenching. There are too many ghosts.

3) Trains! Trains are amazing. I want to take a train across America. Stunning views, cutting a swath through land, seeing junkyard tracks and ocean bay views and poverty and wealth and abandoned houses and abandoned castles. A train has good leg room, your luggage is nearby, and the views are breathtaking. Subsidize trains more, government!

4) Massachusetts, one big reason that I moved out was due to the health care plan. FYI. I still love you.

5) Shotgun Stories is an excellent film. Seek it out.

6) It’s very strange when two different strangers inform you that they saw you in a video. A half-second shot. I don’t know what to think about that.

7) I haven’t seen the sun shine in Troy, NY yet. The buildings in the downtown are beautiful. Old early 1900s edifices, large and imposing and reflecting Troy’s glory in its set up. Now Troy is depressed, a city abandoned to ghosts. Bad paintings of Uncle Sam (who came from there) are everywhere. It’s probably lovely in the summer.

I have to be quick. I’d like to write a tribute to my old amazing apartment.  I miss it, but Southern directors are waiting and I’m sleepy.

Perfect Moments In Film:

Dignan running from the cops to the tune of “2000 Man” by the Rolling Stones.

I really could recite Bottle Rocket from memory.

Recent Globe stuff: Rolling Stone/Love Is A Mixtape writer Rob Sheffield record shopping in Cambridge.  Great guy!