The listening tag in our blog collective’s world of words is the most popular.
I love that.
I heard two new songs today that I haven’t stopped playing. So I of course had to immediately bring that to listen and tell.
The first one I heard while I was blasting Hot 97 reading the Wall Street Journal and eyeing a Twitter feed of investors, spectators, government creatures and general commentators carrying on about Earth. I realize this sounds stale. But once you start bumping to No Mediocre on repeat, it’s amazing what you can liven up.
Shout out Iggy Azalea
When I came home, I started working on my book. That is my bitch right now. Thousands of words everywhere. Top secret stuff.
Listening to my beloved German trance station, MDR SPUTNIK Insomnia, I came across this:
That’s what I’ve been writing to for the past two and a half hours. I need to take the puppies out now, so I’m going to switch back to No Mediocre. Because that’s what you dance around your Hell’s Kitchen block to in the guts of a New York City summer night with two furry angels trotting at your feet.
Namaste blog tribe
My homies and I have been chatting love recently. Last night I had an intersting conversation about the concept of Love. I love everyone. Even human creatures that I up front can’t stand, deep down I love them. I have to. Even my ex-husband who I really can’t stand, I still have to love him universally. Otherwise I think I’d be a shitty human, that’s just how I live.
So during our love conversation I naturally bitched about “dating” or “seeing people” or however this strange ritual of eating with humans, going places, shagging, etc. somehow might equivocate to a possible “relationship”.
Recently I knocked around with someone for close to two months, we shagged a few times, had a couple of laughs. And when I queried if we were in a “relationship” I was advised, “No, I don’t think so.”
My homie last night was trying to explain to me that I move too quick. Having to learn “dating” at 35, when you’ve been married since you were 23, frankly, fucking sucks. According to my mate, “It’s New York City, you just, like, see a lot of people, and then see what happens.” (more…)
In the midst of stumbling on and off my face lately, I fell through the door yesterday to my very quiet apartment and was immediately unhappy.
I kind of reckon Artists have a unique pain thresh hold. And since I hold on to this “every low is followed by a fabulous happiness” I really make a legit effort to limp through.
However, some days I suck at it. And yes, it is still a traumatic reaction to an ex-partner’s uselessness. I’ve finally come to see over the past three or four months, I don’t miss him. I just can’t live alone. (more…)
Lately when I obsess over a new music act, I end up finding a slew of tracks to fill my days with. Like during my recent Moto Boy and Allen Stone tangents, for example. Sia has proven no different. After my Chandelier rant yesterday, I went to work and listened to the whole album – which is how I came across Elastic Heart.
This is the song you want to scream in your ex’s face after you’re let down, again. I’d definitely like to scream it in my first husband’s face. He really deserves that. (more…)
First of all, Sia: Chandelier
… you’re welcome.
Last night over Shiraz with my girlfriend, she put me onto Sia. Apparently Sia is from Australia, I can’t lie – I never heard of her the nine years I spent living there, but I live a deliberately sheltered existence in many ways.
Which sounds peculiar considering I live in midtown Manhattan… I digress. (more…)