Crates n’ crates n’ dresses n’ books bring me joy every day of the year, except for this particular day and the next few days that follow since I am moving. I am moving to a new apartment home in the city. I’m moving, again, just because I enjoy it so much. Soon there will be posts emerging from “apt. 680,” which I know, I knowwww doesn’t have the same catchy appeal as “apt. 15,” (Deck didn’t go to jail at the age of 680, sadly) but it’s a much better place, you guys! You’ll see. I’ll stand in my living room, probably holding a record and most definitely wearing something my mother would not approve of, take a picture of it, then post it. I know this girl with her own crib, in isolation, Keith said. That song’s about me. Sometimes I need to alter my surroundings. The background changes, but the overall themes of my life (bathing suits, ice cream, breaks, science stuff*, venom directed at bad/lazy rappers) never will. And yes, now I’ll be living up in the treez, but my heart’s still down at street level with all of you.
* The most powerful influence on women’s appreciation of their bodies is how they believe others view them, science says, to which I can only respond No fucking way/Yes, perhaps you have seen my blog.
Moving songs to give me energy while I drag crates and to, well, move me of course, include
1. V White and the Politician’s “Sixes on My Seven Deuce,” a song that’ll make you forget about the damage you’re doing to your car’s suspension with your heavy round chrome darlings. (Not to be too preachy. Sorry. They look tiiiiiight.)
2. I know nothing about these individuals other than a) fixies and b) drums. Warm-sounding drums. I don’t know if you’ll have the same love for it; I had to share, though.
(The greatness of an already-great song is slightly distorted, amplified, when I put on my precious expensive headphones. That’s the Sennheiser Effect. The sound is crystalline, booming and emotional. Hearty and fulfilling. My brain’s reward center needs it every few weeks – a song not about hookers and ki’s. This one’s like the musical version of steel-cut oats.)