Oh! Bernard!

Inspired by this post and this post/podcast I, recognizing the subjective nature of such a venture, present my own personal, (mostly) in no particular order, 10 favorite albums of the decade. Interesting to note that there is only one woman on this list, for what reason I don't know.  And worth pointing out that I did most of my hugely important growing up to these records, so forgive the sentimentality.


1. Bon Iver, For Emma, Forever Ago This record may not only be the record of the decade for me but, in 2008/9, I suggest with confident hyperbole that it may in fact be the record of my life. Hong Kong.

Sufjan Stevens, Come Feel the Illinoise It is, actually, rural Illinoise for me. Our humid driving days parallel to the Mississippi.

Iron and Wine, Our Endless Numbered Days Spring time. Provo. There were a lot of dusk walks and pineapple snow cones.

Damien Rice, O More spring time Provo and even more dusk walks and the street with the sweet and sticky trees and the room with the dappled light.

Death Cab For Cutie, Transatlanticism My first DC visit when I listened to nothing else. An album that tells me that albums still matter. 

Sarah Blasko, As Day Follows Night I know, it's still so new, so is hard to view with any kind of distance, but I love it and think it is That Good. And am more and more impressed with it with every listen.

Powderfinger, Odyssey Number Five I don't really dig it now as much as I did then. It meant a lot. But still a great record that lasts. Strong museum associations, stuck in that fishbowl office.

Ray Lamontagne, Til The Sun Turns Black Sitting in the car and a long UT winter.

The Garden State Soundtrack As much as one may want to throw sharp, heavy objects at Zach Braff, it's hard to pretend that post-Men at Work Colin Hay hasn't been one of the revelations of the decade for me. Got back from Western NY and took a trip back to the city to attempt an adventure of distraction (but really just to be a little bit lonely) and where I listened to nothing else for ten days straight and ended up not being lonely at all. (Also tapped into my love for all things Hotel Cafe.)

Coldplay, A Rush of Blood to the Head It used to hurt to listen to Politik. Oh! Earnest youth! My hopeful Amnesty days. I include this NPR review as my defense for this choice. Also more strong museum associations.

Feel free to add, suggest or criticise.

Video courtesy of one of my students, who are for the most part way cooler than I am. We went to a Lisa Mitchell concert a couple of months back. I had low-ish expectations, and the specifics are lost to me now, but it turned out to be pretty rad.

I'm reading The History of Love again. Started today and reading it is like sinking back into a deep, soft chair.  

Sometimes I imagine my autopsy. Disappointment in myself: right kidney. Disappointment of others in me: left kidney. Personal failures: kishkes...When the clocks are turned forward and the dark falls before I'm ready, this, for reasons I can't explain, I feel in my wrists. And when I wake up and my fingers are stiff, almost cerainly I was dreaming of my childhood...Stiffness of the fingers is the dream of childhood as its been returned to me at the end of my life. I have to run them under the hot water, steam clouding the mirror, outside the rustle of pigeons. Yesterday I saw a man kicking a dog and I felt it behind my eyes. I don't know what to call this, a place before tears. The pain of forgetting: spine. The pain of remembering: spine...

War on my bed and Peace's horse in my armoir

This little post is probably going to be full of overly simple value judgments because I feel lazy. I can feel them coming on. Be prepared.

Yesterday I hit up the AGNSW (again, always) and saw an interesting installation out front titled War and Peace and In Between by Tatzu Nishi. He constructed rooms/spaces around two equestrian sculptures that flank the entrance of the gallery, which, admittedly, I'd never given much notice to, and yet here they are, transformed and made obvious, in the manner of Christo and Jeanne-Claude. It is good. It is appropriate, given the gallery's Kaldor public art projects exhibit, which, to be honest left me wanting. I walked in and was immediately confused. What was I supposed to be doing? No direction, no flow. It made me grumpy. It was bad-ish. And I wanted it to be good, I really did.

 

(I smell burnt toast.)

Then I saw The Time Travelers Wife. It was bad. I also wanted this to be really good. Visually appealing, but overly driven by plot.

Finally, and most importantly, if you know me at all (ok, exaggerating), you know this is one of my favorite talks of all time, so on this, the Sabbath day, listen here. For years, I have come back to it every few months. It's like he's giving me my own personal pep talk.  Quit uni? And that great work is you...your life, your future, the very fulfillment of your dreams... Quit work? ...it is what, with effort and  patience and God's help, you can become... Drop out of life and move to Mexico? ...When days are difficult or problems seem unending, I plead with you to stay in the harness and keep pulling. You are entitled to "eat the good of the land of Zion in these last days," but it will require your heart and a willing mind. It will require that you stay at your post and keep trying.

It is good.

And then today I wished the guy who sits across from me death. Twice. It's not going well.

I nearly cried at work today. Three times. I felt infintely unprofessional and juvenile, but that's that. Hate my job this week.

While it warmed up to a steamy 45-ish degrees here on this fine Melbourne Cup day, I've only been jealous of all you northern hemispherites and longing for a nice crisp autumn for weeks now. It's the perfect upstate NY-y, hanging out with the Amish-y, cinnamonn-y, apple cider-y, pumpkin-y, gold and red mountain-y time of year.

Seminary is now over for the year and I'm both happy and sad-ish about that. It gives me something to do, something to give. But it's also nice to get a long 6am sleep in now and time to do the things I've been putting off. Like grad school apps, even if they are a bit barfy.

Anyway, that's the update. I'm without internet, so emails will be fewer and farther (?) between than before. So, expect one once every six months from now on.

cuddle up in London town, antipodean blues, all the days seem longer now, and the sea so cruel

I'm so internet challenged these days, it's not even kind of funny. So, to tide you and me both over, here is my favourite recommendation of the week. Do it.

hey Meegs, what did you do at lunch today?

If you were wondering whether I stumbled upon the Powderfinger semi-secret busking gig in Martin Place today, the answer is a big yes. It was ace. And then I like totally was walking back to the library and I totally walked past their van and Bernard like totally looked at me. He was like wearing sunnies, but I know that we like totally made like eye contact.* Bit star struck. And, as a side note, it does give me quiet satisfaction that this now means I have seen Powderfinger live on three continents. Get in!

*Read in breathy, excited, pre-teen voice.

So, you could say that today was a bit like this, but without, you know, all the people and the amplification. For your viewing pleasure:

too excellent for words

I found this on a blog today. It is also my favourite Bjork song. It makes me happy, sitting in the library.

A different kind of crying, but also just got weepy over the women's US Open final. Don't judge.