(no subject)

I feel a strong need to go swimming. I have yet to manage to find the courage to hunt through the Beast's employee benefits to find pool access, and I'm pretty sure that my grandfather's house ruined public beaches for me forever. (I have personally additionally complicated this by not being willing to swim at my uncle's house, because there's just way too much tattoo to be able avoid having a conversation about it that I don't really want to have).

I went to a redbird concert Wednesday night, and among other things, Jeffrey Foucault sang a staggeringly charming cover of stuck in the middle with you, and made some comment about how it was sort of a song he kept coming back to in his head. Like a soundtrack, but less annoyingly hipster. (what's a good, gender-free equivalent of douchey? I'm fine with the word, because I think of it in terms of actual-douche-is-useless so douchebags-are-useless-people, but I think I'd like to find something similarly dismissive without attendant baggage)

His comment sparked a cascade, the idea of not necessarily a soundtrack in terms of what I think might say Big Important Things about me as a person, or slyly reference how much cooler my taste is than anyone else, or how quirky I am, but the songs that have actually been with me, that I associate with moments of pleasure, nostalgia and/or regret. So, I went and bought myself some Guns N' Roses and am about to settle down to drink some tea, cross-stitch and listen to Appetite for Destruction.

(no subject)

I feel a strong need to go swimming. I have yet to manage to find the courage to hunt through the Beast's employee benefits to find pool access, and I'm pretty sure that my grandfather's house ruined public beaches for me forever. (I have personally additionally complicated this by not being willing to swim at my uncle's house, because there's just way too much tattoo to be able avoid having a conversation about it that I don't really want to have).

I went to a redbird concert Wednesday night, and among other things, Jeffrey Foucault sang a staggeringly charming cover of stuck in the middle with you, and made some comment about how it was sort of a song he kept coming back to in his head. Like a soundtrack, but less annoyingly hipster. (what's a good, gender-free equivalent of douchey? I'm fine with the word, because I think of it in terms of actual-douche-is-useless so douchebags-are-useless-people, but I think I'd like to find something similarly dismissive without attendant baggage)

His comment sparked a cascade, the idea of not necessarily a soundtrack in terms of what I think might say Big Important Things about me as a person, or slyly reference how much cooler my taste is than anyone else, or how quirky I am, but the songs that have actually been with me, that I associate with moments of pleasure, nostalgia and/or regret. So, I went and bought myself some Guns N' Roses and am about to settle down to drink some tea, cross-stitch and listen to Appetite for Destruction.