the importance of being earnest

If I remember correctly, it's an Oscar Wilde play involving mistaken identities, the quest for love, and cucumber sandwiches. I'm certain of the cucumber sandwiches.

I enjoy music and movies that are earnest -- and earnest to the point of subversion. My flu-ridden weekend was filled with a highly suspect (but fun) decision to play ultimate in cold and windy weather (the only thing missing was the rain -- and thank goodness for that), and a Sunday filled with all things earnest: Multiple viewings of the movie / musical / extended music video, Once (!!!!) and Bon Iver's 'For Emma, Forever Ago' on repeat.

taste tests, viral nuisances, and intellectual cojones

I wish these cold / influenza viruses would leave me alone. Or at the very least, I wish they wouldn't consistently bother me on the weekends. The only viruses I like are the ones happily associated with the 16-bit fun-ness of Dr. Mario. And even then, I only like it when they disappear or dance like maniacs once the music creeps to that level of uber-fastness (meaning you need to flip faster!).

Downloaded a good bit of music the last few days. In rotation (with links to samples, for your taste-testing convenience): Thao, Shipwreck, The Mountain Goats, The Dodos, Bon Iver, Vampire Weekend.

I've been reading about Vampire Weekend -- blog posts, magazine articles, etc. When the name is brought up among hipster audiophiles there seems to be a collective, vomitous convulsion. Yes, they're over-hyped. Yes, they're a pretentious group of Ivy leaguers who like to show off their intellectual cojones during interview. Yes, they wore awful preppy sweaters on the cover of Spin magazine -- the ones that make you look like you should be pipe-smoking and shooting skeet with your grandpa.

For the record:

1) I have nothing against grandpas, or the sweaters they wear. In fact, I'm positive I own a sweater aptly fitting this description...but I've never been skeet shooting.

2) I'm not a big fan of pretentiousness.

3) Bands have very little control over their own hype. Hype is what other people make them out to be.

Music-wise -- not bad, despite a small laundry list of turn-offs outside the music arena, but not the golden boys of indie rock they're sometimes made out to be. Vampire Weekend is music you can turn on while you're prepping dinner ingredients and bounce around to, a la an 80s movie dance scene with Winona Rider, a young Christina Ricci, and a top-of-her-form Cher (Yea, I said top of her form). They make a decent pop song, but to save the spine of your recently purchased, glossy music magazine, I'd simply stay away from reading the interviews.

As for the rest of the bunch, with the exception of Shipwreck favoring electric, the downloads have been acoustic deliciousness. Give 'em a shot, if you get the chance.

my my my

Stripped down acousti-goodness + sweet falsetto =
Skinny Love / Bon Iver

That's right. I said sweet sweet falsetto.
Throw in a banjo and hand claps for good measure.

bottle up the sauce

Take that flu!
Take that, and like it!

Up and at it. And feeling 100%, mostly.

Came back from vacation to a weekend virus and a disparaging letter. You tell yourself that things'll be alright, but sometimes it feels good to hear someone else tell you:

The Great Escape / Patrick Watson

Chords don't disappoint....

which dr. mario virus looks most like the flu: red, yellow, or blue?

I think that Berly and Nico may have single-handedly infected at least two of Phoenix's eastbound planes -- one to Midland, and one to the City of Brotherly Love.

I hate being sick.
I hate this achy feeling.
I hate feeling nauseous.
I hate taking medicine.
(Although this Nighttime Airborne, cider-flavored beverage isn't so bad.)
I hate feeling weak.
I hate not being able to frolic and play.

So, if you haven't gotten the picture Flu....
I'd shake my fist at you, if I could muster up the energy.

coffee and volume 14

Before I forget, I would like to thank coffee and volume 14 for keeping me awake on late night drives. You, my wonderful and faithful readers (all two of you!), should probably thank them too, as they are your unassuming saviors from a 2 am phone call. Time zones and delayed, homeward bound flights will really mess with your sleeping schedule.

A. Coffee-drinking (The Midnight Oil)

Some might find the vice diabolical. But it's certainly not so diabolical as circus peanuts, especially when coffee's trusty sidekicks are 3 packets of Sugar in the Raw and delightful doses of cream.

B. Volume 14 (Eardrums? There You Are!)

Even Captain & Tennille sound better at this setting:

1. When Bon Jovi tells you to hold on to what you've got, you HOLD ON.
2. When Kanye tells you to dig for gold, you DIG (or find it in an abandoned mine shaft in the Californian desert).
3. When Colby asks you to count her in, you COUNT HER IN.
4. When Gwen goes bananas, you spell it B-A-N-A-N-A-S.
5. When Jukebox the Ghost wants you to hold it in, you HOLD IT IN.

(etc etc)

And so, I find myself back from J Tree safe and sound, thanks to these things.

Days were spent frolicking in the desert -- meeting trees named Joshua, rabbits named Jack, and cacti shaped liked teddy bears. Nights were welcomed with homeade dinners and conversations with old friends -- ones that know me better than most, and who still seem to like me in spite of it.

Comfortable nostalgia and new memories.
The best of times were had.

For those that care to ask, I will storytell until you're part of the 'in' crowd, but the happenings were numerous, and I fear I may not do them justice. I won't b(l)og you down with my verbosity now, but perhaps a handful of things that happened at JTNP will pop up from time to time in later posts.

To the person who left me the amusing voice mail about one-way streets, I respond with this Shelley-ism, in two-part list form:

1. I don't know what you're talking about.

And....

2. If I did, it's the only way to fittingly celebrate St. Patrick's Day Eve, a celebratory night that's often overlooked for the day of.

Away now, caffeine!

Off to count sheep (bah bah bah)....

The OMF

homegrown homebrew and high school

Tonight I'll be having dinner with Blair Bear, and I can't wait to see her, and mom Daphne, and chat up a springtime storm.

I'm reminded of the many high school memories we shared together. Here's one of them:

Ray often made home-brews, and in true adolescent fashion, we found ways to have a taste (or two).

The homebrews were delicious, and strong, and tasted -- true of any good, homegrown, Irishman-made / Englishman-made beer (my confusion over the Lamb family name is a harrowing dilemma on many levels) -- like a thick veggie stew. If drinking 'em didn't put hair on my chest, nothing ever would.

I'm sure this evening will be filled with grade school memories, conversations about the greatness that is The Animal Collective, and stories about the trials and tribulations of Penn Nursing School.

For now, this* will have to do.

*High School / Jeremy Fisher

nightswimming

Inspired by Wix.

Man, I love that REM song.

I went to my 1st spin class this evening. My friend Susan was teaching, and the workout kicked my ass. So I doubt that I'll have any trouble sleeping tonight, though I once contemplated writing this letter and sticking it in a drawer somewhere -- for its therapeutic value and to find some solace on sleepless nights:

------

Dear Sleep God/dess,

Please allow me to have a restful slumber. Most times, I like sleep. I've heard that 7 to 8 hrs is good for you, and I think that would be delightful. I hope that you'll do what you can to help make it happen.

Thanks in advance.

Warm regards,

Shelley M. Su

-------

Perhaps, I should leave letter-writing by the wayside and stick with intensive workouts that remind me I really do have butt muscles.

And perhaps nights spent listening to sweet lullabies by REM will help too.

Nightswimming. Deserves a quiet night....

ingesting large amounts of psychoactive stimulant...and trees named joshua

Goodness.

I feel like a 5-year old, waiting to go to Disney World. But instead of Disney and Mickey & Friends, I'll be going to see a tree named Joshua with some of my favorite people in the whole wide world.

Along with the anticipation is a certain amount of jittery-ness. But the fact that I've ingested large amounts of Juan Valdez might have something to do with it -- he's just so dreamy on mornings like this.

Anyway, I simply...can't...wait.

chock-full of questions

Questions I often ask myself or the person across from / closest to me:

1) Where are my keys?
2) What do you have on draft (or on special)?
3) Why must Fergie insist on spelling all of these words?
4) When's dinner club?
5) Does my milkshake bring all the boys to the yard? Part 2: What would I have to charge?!
6) If I watch Tyra for the anticipation of a train wreck, does that make me a bad person? I'm only certain that it does NOT make me fierce.
7) When did K-fed become the responsible one?
8) Rhetorical: Have I ever met a cheese I didn't like? Cheese is interchangeable with cut of steak, olive, coffee, noodle soup, and London twin*.
9) Why do I have a huge love-crush on Michael Cera; can he really do no wrong?
10) Why do I listen to excellent tracks on repeat, often to it's regretful demise?

*Jeremy / Jason = cuteness galore!

tencent mix #4: timestamp, the open road

I once promised Alex the iBanker a teleportation device, so that we might visit and play whenever we please. Until I have a better grasp of wormholes, the string theory, and the space-time continuum, the both of us will have to stick with driving and our love for -- and freakishly similar tastes in -- indie and pop music, to keep us company.

This mix is for you, Alex. Sadly, it seems that I'll have to trade the automobile (zoom zoom...) for a jet plane very soon.

Here are a few additions to The List:

1) Lacrosse
2) Short story edition of The New Yorker
3) Pac Sun

sometimes unicorns puke rainbows and the evidence is in a slideshow

For those of you who've entered this cyber-house of shenanigans for the 1st time, welcome you brave souls.

There are few things more entertaining than seeing Crider in a dress, an inebriated dancing Crab, and Beez sharing precious moments with a fur-bearing mammal. If you're scratching your head and wondering what I'm talking about, the evidence is right here, set to the soulful and happy tune-age of King Floyd:



To Loose Cannon, my adorable teammates. Thanks for a wonderful season, and best of luck to all of you this upcoming one. Enjoy!

Love,

The Original

glass half full and weekend itinerary

The best part of my week has always been guitar lesson. And this week was no different. Chris' enthusiasm and patience is endless. Believe me, the latter, he needs a lot of! I've finally managed, clearly strummed bar chords. This isn't so easy for my small hands on the acoustic, but I can now play 1st position bar chords.

In the spirit of glass half fullness, here are some other noteworthy events from the week:

1) Searching for ATM's in the H-burg and perusing all that the Beer King has to offer. Cold, crisp deliciousness. The guy manning the counter was not, to a nominal amount of disappointment, dressed in kingship attire.

He was also not very impressed.

2) Catching Tim stretch in front of the vending machine, in preparation for his newly purchased Combos. Hilarious! He was as giddy as a schoolgirl about those Combos:

Pretzel on the outside. Cheese on the inside. It's a snack to be consumed with childish delight.

3) Bringing a cold, Rocky Mountain suitcase into Thai Palace and leaving with it mostly empty.

4) Slideshow making. It brings me great joy.

5) Playing guitar in the middle of the night in my tshirt and undies. Also brings me great joy.

6) Alex the iBanker's blog post (as well as postings by other members of the Asian Blog Mafia). Yes, Alex. I AM a self-professed Twinkie.

The Weekend Itinerary

FRIDAY
Take-out Chinese / Consumption of wine(s)
Catch up on music
Work on slideshow
Go to bed early

SATURDAY
Drive to the H-wood
Bargain shopping with Mamma Su
Courier Pappa Su's order of 2 dozen oatmeal cookies from pseudo-Amish country
3- possibly 4-chord jam session with Mike
Drive home
Evening shenanigans

SUNDAY
Clean clean clean
Music music music
Project project project
Other goings ons TBD

corndog, anyone?

National Corn Dog Day is March 22.

Any day that celebrates hot dogs covered in cornbread batter and deep fried to perfection is bound to be a brilliant one.

Let's recap: Deliciousness coated in deliciousness, and then deep fried to deliciousness.

I can't wait....

I'm being serious.

homeward bound

I'm feeling an increasing desire to go home -- home to people who see me for all my annoying imperfections but love me in spite of it, home to a delicious meal, and home to a pot of green tea.

This week has been taxing. The ability to see duality in things can be an asset, and I have a strong propensity towards it. But it can also lead to a hearty helping of confusion and having to sort through the slop is draining.

As I walk away from a good many things I care so much about, I know that sometimes the best place to walk towards...is...home.

a sieve, a steal trap, and keller williams

Keller Williams played a show at the Whitaker Center in H-burg tonight, and I thought I might write about all the things that happened. If there's one thing I know about myself, it's that my brain funnels through a good number of important things like a sieve, and works like a steal trap on things I should probably forget.

Here are some observations and questions pertaining to the show:

1) Why are bass players so awkward? Unless you're playing the upright and wearing suspenders, you're probably looking very awkward.

2) Replace the s-t-e-r in hipster with p-i-e (mmmm...pie), and that was a good majority of the audience. It was the type of show where there are half-hour jam sessions and very few lyrics.

So, room full of hemp + live music. Why was I surprised to hear the fire alarm during the fourth song?

I don't know.

3) I had no expectations for this show. Only to have a good time with Brett, and I can honestly say that I undeniably did. So while the fire department was doing a quick check of the venue, we thought it would be an opportune time to grab some a few tall ones at the G-man down the street. Excellent idea. Good conversation = a good time to be had.

4) I can appreciate a jam band, but I can't say it's my music of choice. It takes musicianship; I'll give you that. And if I can relate it to anything, it's like playing with a bunch of amazing athletes on the ultimate field. Everyone has a set of skills they're really good at. Put them on a field, tell them to make something good happen -- and it happens, and it's spectacular to someone who knows and enjoys the game. But to other onlooking spectators, they might still be wondering when the dogs and doobie were going to show.

I was that unknowing spectator. But the pot I spotted in puffs of smoke wafting from the 4th row, Mezzanine section. At times I wanted and expected to hear a face-melting guitar solo, but I was mostly disappointed to hear two of them concurrently, in a big ol' jumble of notes my mind had no idea how to process.

5) I enjoyed watching Keller play in his bare feet. Some days I wake up in the early morning, and then there are nights I have trouble sustaining a full REM cycle. On occasion, during these few minutes or hours of slumbering ineptitude, I'll grab my guitar and play in my sleep attire, ie t-shirt and underwear. I'm not sure what it is about playing in the semi-nude, but it makes me happy. And the few chords and strum patterns I know end up sounding a little sweeter.

I guess what I really want to say is, there was connectivity in the look of complete joy on his face -- Keller Williams, baring his shoeless soul, having fun, and singing so carefree. It was refreshing and something I needed to see.

6) There were periods of nice, solid, rocking out and hints of good ol' Southern blues. The rendition of 'Girl From Ipanema' was also very enjoyable. And people were up and dancing like it was 1999. Keller even broke out an impromptu 'Burning Down The House' riff, during the period of fire alarm.

Overall, pretty entertaining.

But I know, now more than ever, I enjoy music that is fairly minimalistic and mostly structured. If there's anything that I've started to really appreciate, it's lyrics -- the things a person has to say about how life is great, or how much it sucks, or how it can be completely Fergalicious....

And while I enjoyed the experience and the people, you will not hear any of the previously mentioned, lyrical topics (not in any truly, cohesive sense), at a Keller Williams concert.

desert island discs (i feel it all series)

Glass half empty.
Glass half full.

Sometimes the glass just has water in it. And you feel everything.

ALBUM / ARTIST
*Notable Tracks

Boxer / The National
*Topping many a Best Albums of '07 List, you'll want to check out these tracks: Brainy and Slow Show standout with self-deprecating lyrics and the baritone crooning of lead singer Matt Berninger.

Pinkerton / Weezer
*El Scorcho, you had me at 'Goddamn'...! Quite possibly one of my favorite songs in the whole wide world, depending on the time of day, barometric pressure, and angle of elevation of the sun.
*Good Life, Rivers Cuomo (cutie pie and smarty pants, extraordinaire) demands: 'I want sugar in my tea!' Me too, Rivers, me too.

The Reminder / Feist
*I Feel It All = The Wimpy Truth. The remix by Britt Daniel is also excellent (Thanks Virb!); it reminds me of the minimalist Xmas jingles on SNL, where Horatio Sanz and Jimmy Fallon were always fighting to keep a straight face. There's nothing quite so entertaining as watching two grown men trying to fight off a case of the giggles.
*Brandy Alexander, always getting into trouble (sounds vaguely familiar).
*1-2-3-4, made popular by an iSomething commercial, is the catchiest of tunes -- a pre-requisite, it seems, for Mac advertising.

Sunshyness / Orba Squara
*Mitch Davis embraces all things acoustic, and so do I. You might recognize Perfect Timing (This Morning) from an iPhone commercial, but you'll also want to check out these feel-good numbers: My Favorite Song, All Around The World, and Sunshine.

Close To Paradise / Patrick Watson
*Patrick Watson = blues-infused, Jeff Buckley/John Lennon re-incarnate? Give Drifters, The Storm, and The Great Escape (Sorry, there's no stadium seating or popcorn for this song) a listen.

and that's the way the cookie crumbles

I understand the meaning. Shit happens, and sometimes there's just nothing you can do about it. So there's no use getting your panties in a bunch.

Perhaps, it's my love of all things food -- particularly of the baked goods genre -- but I would get pretty upset if my cookie crumbled, in both the literal and figurative sense. In terms of the former, it simply seems like a waste of good baking materials. Chewy and gooey and raisin-less cookies are the best anyway, so if your cookie crumbles, try a different recipe.

Now to the latter. Shit happens, I get it. But I don't like the idea that there's nothing you can do about. True, you can give something everything you've got and still all you have left is a failed attempt at basket weaving, or trigonometry, or any of the things and/or people that you think are important to making you happy. But you gave it a shot -- you took the bull by the horns and said 'Hello, bull. I'm not going to let you crumble my cookie.' And in the Book of Shelley's Stuff and Things, that ain't nothing. That's SOMETHING.