loving pretty hate

One of the most formative albums of my angst-filled youth turned twenty this week.

TWENTY!

The news has completely knocked me off-balance, leaving me with a flood of emotions, many happy hours spent rocking out in my car and a compelling desire to contact everyone I knew during those days to share the shock and appreciation.

The news makes me want to fall to my knees and weep. Weep with longing, with regret, with joy, with shock, with wonder, with gratitude.

I’m sad. Wistful. And completely gob-smacked.

Twenty years.

I was 18 when I was introduced to the greatness that was and still is Nine Inch Nails. I am still a die-hard fan. His music is still as good today as it ever was; but pretty hate? Pretty hate has my heart. There is no greater song than ‘sin’ and no better album to belt out at the top of your lungs.

Here’s the thing about the album: it’s still as good today as it ever was. This album and Trent Reznor in general was well ahead of its time. I don’t think I’m understating it to say that it was unparalleled in its brilliance. Sure, downward spiral is what put NIN on the map, but pretty hate told them how to get there.

I have been telling everyone I know “Hey, pretty hate machine is 20 years old.” I am mostly met with blank stares. Most of the people I tell have no idea who or what that is, nor what it means to me. And if they have heard of it, they could really care less.

I hate it. I want to grab them by their scrawny ignorant little necks and shake some sense and appreciation into them.

“PRETTY HATE MACHINE CHANGED MY LIFE, DAMNIT!”

But what good would that do? You either get it or you don't.

Pretty Hate Machine, you had me at Head Like A Hole.
Trent Reznor, you are a musical genius.
Friends, old & new, listen to this album today/this week/forever and tip your hat/rip your shirt/ wallow in your own self-loathing.

This is what it’s all about.

This is Fun!

My Life (As Told By Tori Amos)

1. Are you a male or female:
Cornflake Girl

2. Describe yourself:
Hoochie Woman (almost went with Fat Slut here. Cheeky. Tempting.)

3. How do you feel about yourself:
Almost Rosey

4. Describe your ex boyfriend/girlfriend:
Mr. Bad Man

5. Describe your current boy/girl situation:
Code Red

6. Describe your current location:
Pandora’s Aquarium

7. Describe where you want to be:
Jamaica Inn

8. Your best friend(s) is:
Mrs. Jesus

9. Your favourite colour is:
Gold Dust

10. You know that:
You Can Bring Your Dog

11. If your life was a television show what would it be called:
Little Earthquakes/Another Girl’s Paradise

12. What is life to you:

Cloud on my Tongue

13. What is the best advice you have to give:
Don’t Look Back in Anger ( I know this is a cover, but I am counting it anyway!)

My Life (As Told By Annie Lennox)

Got this idea from Fire Eater via Sunset Over Slawit.

Pick an artist, and using ONLY SONG TITLES from only that artist, cleverly (preferably) answer these questions.

1. Are you a male or female:
Wide Eyed Girl

2. Describe yourself:
17 Again

3. How do you feel about yourself:
Lifted/ Something So Right

4. Describe your ex boyfriend/girlfriend:
No more “I love you’s”/Sex Crime/The Hurting Time

5. Describe your current boy/girl situation:
I Need A Man

6. Describe your current location:
Downtown Lights

7. Describe where you want to be:
Right By Your Side

8. Your best friend(s) is:
Womankind

9. Your favourite colour is:
Coloured Bedspread

10. You know that:
I Want It All

11. If your life was a television show what would it be called:
Legend in my Living Room

12. What is life to you:
A Thousand Beautiful Things

13. What is the best advice you have to give:
Don’t Let it Bring You Down

The Top 5 Songs of My Formative Years

Some of the songs on this list I would likely never admit to liking, though I cannot deny their direct impact on my life. These songs are different from all the rest because of their ability to catapult me to the past with alarming terrifying—and sometimes fond—accuracy. They take me back to the EXACT time and the EXACT place and the EXACT feeling. They are timeless and forever etched in my mind and heart because I only listened to them for a very short period of time and then never again. The last three I could never get sick of and never have gotten enough of them. The first two make me cringe with awkwardness and roll my eyes with mortification and I will not mind if I never hear them again. The songs aren't on this list necessarily because they are good; they are on this list because they are a map of some of the most painful and bittersweet moments of my life:

1. Moonlight Desires-Gowan: Ach. This song breaks my heart. With all the longing of my Grade 6, pre-teen awkwardness, want and revelation. Before I knew anything about music, let alone *good* music, this is one of the first songs I ever remember listening to in my giant yellow walk-man.

2. Kokomo-Beach Boys: Aruba, Jamaica, ooh I wanna take you. Bermuda. Bahama. Cmon pretty mama. You all know the words. This song is Grade 7 gym class. That’s what this reminds me of. It makes me cringe while simultaneously making me feel wistful. I hated gym. I hated the change room. This song smells of spray-on baby-powder deodorant and reminds me of Mrs. Curtis and her Lady Foot Locker baby-pink cotton braided head-band.

3. Little Lies-Fleetwood Mac: This is a Grade 7 dance and the bittersweet sting of rejection, and mostly in particular of Jason Reinhart. In 1987 or 88, This song makes me think of walking through a gymnasium full of red helium balloons, but is that another FM video? It’s my first experience of total confusion with men. It was my first experience of being aware that looks matter and whatever that look was, I didn't have it. It was first experience of not understanding why guys never did like me. And really, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten any closer to figuring that out.

4. Shout-Tears for Fears: Fast forward about 6 years. It's 1993. This reminds me of a trip back from Edmonton with E. We rewound the song over and over again. The tape broke immediately after I bought it/I lost it and I have never listened to it since. No better song. No better time. And this song will forever be associated with THAT ONE DAY. That moment. I never cared that it was kind of repetitive. It was the finest 6 minutes on tape as far as I was concerned.

5. Hey Man, Nice Shot-Filter: This is a filthy house in Edmonton. Ryan, Grant and Vince. It is feeding all four of us for $17.00 a week. I have yet to encounter a guitar riff I enjoy more or a song which makes my head bob more quickly. This song is ripped-in-the-knee jeans and a false sense of independence with a hefty dose of unnecessary stubborn pride.

I thought about embedding the videos but meh. Too much work.

A Word About Cat Power

Man, that woman is an under-rated powerhouse.

Yeah, dude.

She gets it.

I’m gonna find me a reckless man
Razor blades and ice in his eyes
Just a touch of sadness in his fingers
Thunder and lightning in his eyes.

She may not have written the lyrics, but that smoky, haunting voice? Oh God yeah.

Way Down

I think I might have to break down and buy Tori Amos 'A Piano' box set. For those of you who know me for my notorious cheapskatedness, this is a rather bold pronouncement.

The only thing. Only.ONLY thing that has buoyed me through this week has been the acoustic version of 'A Sorta Fairytale' which is so god-damned heart-breaking that it makes me want to curl up in a ball and wail.

That and 'Intro Jam/ Marys of the Sea.' This 8+-minute song which includes such epic lyrics as 'Back that ass up now' and 'you built your rock that’s on sand' (which i actually thought until just now was 'hey you built a rocketship on sand’ and I gotta be honest, am kind of disappointed is not. meh. I've been making up my own tori lyrics for 15 years. Why stop now?) has been propelling me to and from wherever I've been coming and going from.

“Back me on up
I gotta face some kind of evil tomorrow
I need to know that you're gonna be there
and you know my faith is in your hands, now
just back me on up
just back me on up
back me on up”

I need all the help I can get.

This week has been strange; I have been on auto-pilot. I feel like I've been in some sort of vacuum, or tunnel. All I can hear is white noise. And Tori Amos.


This bitch has got my back.

The Cool Indeed

Now while I realize that I am a thirty-something white girl from Alberta, I have a confession to make: Lupe Fiasco is my boyfriend.

And I can’t get enough of his second album, The Cool, which is already a year old. But here’s the thing: I really feel guilty and conflicted about listening to hip-hop and rap music. Why? Well, because I just don’t know enough about it to be making informed decisions. And I don’t always listen to the words. For all I know, they could be talkin’ ‘bout shootin’ down Ns and Hos. And you know, who needs that kind of negative messages in their music? And honestly, I don’t want to support anyone who thinks it’s cool and popular to disrespect women or have gunfire embedded in their songs.

There are so many histrionics that I just don’t know enough about that I feel like a ridiculous fraud for listening to music that I don’t really understand or couldn’t even defend were I ever in a position which warranted it. This may be residual “role model anxiety” from my teaching days and I should probably get over it since I have no children or School Boards to answer to. I just wanna like what I like without somehow crossing any lines.

So far, my musical tastes have been pretty mainstream and innocuous. I listen to Outkast and Gnarls Barkley and N*E*R*D and Erikah Badu. I stick with Common and Lupe and The Roots and that’s pretty much it. And the Roots scare me in a hard-core kind of way. Like they are going to come on out of their album and kick the shit out me, which I also kind of like.

But I actually feel like I should do some research or something before I start singing the praises of rappers or hip-hops artists. And in fact, I’m not sure I even necessarily know the difference between the two genres. I also feel like I haven’t earned the right to listen to them because I grew up in a homogeneous hockey town in the Prairies.

Yes Readers, it's true: I have white middle-class suburban guilt for listening to hip-hop music. Not to sound old and white (which I am) is it really necessary to use the N word so often. I mean, really? Like my friend L says, the reason that you very rarely hear the word ‘Cracker’ to describe a white person is because WE DON’T CALL OURSELVES THAT. I get that it’s all about you taking back the power and changing the meaning and claiming it as your own. But really? Do ya hafta? Cause I think your music would be as good without it. And although that may be how it started, how many teenagers know that? And how many of the Gangsta rappas out there know that? And is that what it really means? Or has it now become so ubiquitous that it no longer has any meaning at all? I dunno. And I know this argument is as old as the hills. But I also know that I get the heeby-jeebies every time I hear it and cringe a little when it is being belted out from my car stereo.

And yet. I still can’t help myself.

I can’t stop listening to good (and sometimes bad) hip-hop and rap music.

But how do I distinguish between L’il Wayne and Lupe Fiasco and The Roots? Are some better than others? Well the answer is absolutely YES. And what makes it right to listen to Lupe and wrong, oh so wrong to listen to Ol' Dirty Bastard? (Other than the fact that he is dead?) And although I have no answers as to whether it’s right or wrong to be listening to Lupe Fiasco, not listening to him because he uses the N word or on a matter of principle would be the same as me converting over to Christian rock because I ‘wasn’t comfortable’ with the message of pop music or rock ‘n roll. I don’t know how to absolve myself of the guilt, or even if I need to.

What I do know is that The Cool rocks. I don’t have the vocabulary or the history or the background knowledge to pontificate intelligently on what makes The Cool such a great album. I do know that I sing out loud in my car and that Lupe Fiasco is cute and has a great name and his music makes me happy and makes me dance and do a bum dance in my chair.

So there.

Do I really listen to this much Black music?

Following the cue from Fire Eater, choose the random setting on your ipod/music player (no cheating), then fill in the blanks to create the movie of your life.

OPENING CREDITS: Smile Like You Mean it-THE KILLERS
WAKING UP: edge of seventeen-STEVIE NICKS
FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL: cold hard bitch-JET
FALLING IN LOVE: Yo George (Isabel)-TORI AMOS
FIGHT SONG: Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik-OUTKAST
BREAKING UP: Player's Ball-OUTKAST
PROM NIGHT: Murder She Wrote-CHAKA DEMUS & PLIERS
LIFE'S OK: Pretty Things-RUFUS WAINWRIGHT
MENTAL BREAKDOWN: Girl-TORI AMOS
DRIVING: Stronger-KANYE WEST
FLASHBACK: La palette-LA VOLÉE D’CASTOR
GETTING BACK TOGETHER: keep it together-MADONNA
BIRTH OF CHILD: Explain it to me-LIZ PHAIR
WEDDING: In da Club-50 CENT (oh dear)
FINAL BATTLE: born to run-k-os
DEATH SCENE: Could you be loved-BOB MARLEY AND THE WAILERS
FUNERAL SONG: Juarez-TORI AMOS

****
This really is uncannily weird. And how much do I love that my wedding song is 'In da club'?! Hilarious.

Day 5: A MiXeD BaG

I am kind of feeling like I should review something a little more mainstream--like I should pick up the new Killers album or something. But meh. Instead I'll give you a mish-mash of all the crazy loveliness in my head and on my iTunes.

Jolene-DOLLY PARTON (Don't knock this song 'til you hear it. It's good!)
Folsom Prison Blues-JOHNNY CASH
Take me with you-TORI AMOS (this song is following me around)
Ce N'est Pas Bon-AMADOU & MARIAM (catchy!)
Chant of a Poor Man- LEFTFIELD Feat. CHESHIRE CAT
Águyuha Nidúheñu (My People Have Moved On)-ANDY PALACIO & THE GARIFUNA COLLECTIVE (my best find of 2008. From Belize)
Daft Punk is Playing at My House: LCD SOUNDSYSTEM
Hi-Definition-LUPE FIASCO Feat. Snoop Dogg & Pooh Bear (oh, guilty pleasure)
brother down-SAM ROBERTS(haven't heard this song for years. Forgot how good it was.)
kamikaze-PJ HARVERY
over and over-HOT CHIP
young folks-PETER BJORN & JOHN
sunny road-EMILIANA TORRINI
spellbound-SIOUXSIE & the BANSHEES
setting sun- DARREN HAYES
pornography-CLIENT
lost cause-BECK
like cocatoos-The CURE
kiss kiss-YEAH YEAH YEAHS
map of the problematique-MUSE(this is another band that has taken me years to warm up to. these days, I can't get enough)
kennedy killed the hat- BUCK 65
Eleanor Rigby-THE BEATLES
working class hero-JOHN LENNON (God, this song is powerful and spellbinding and frankly, I didn't know John Lennon had it in him.)
Don't Look Back in Anger-OASIS (oldie, but so so GOODIE!)
Free-CAT POWER
Fuck & Run-LIZ PHAIR
Get Home-SARAH SLEAN
only-NINE INCH NAILS
the camera eye-BILLY CORGAN
The Priest-JONI MITCHELL
bangbang (my baby shot me down)-NANCY SINATRA
poses-RUFUS WAINWRIGHT
be kind-remind-ROGUE WAVE
shhh-DONOA

Day 4: Good Old-Fashioned Bum Music

I just bought Amadou & Mariam’s newest album, Welcome to Mali about a week ago. Of course, true to form, I hated it at first , but now I'm coming around. And actually, I started the first draft of this post 4 days ago and have just slashed more than half of it in light of repeated listens over the weekend. Now I like the second, third and fourth track and I’m sure by this time next year (or next week) the album will be walking on water and curing kids from cancer.

Welcome to Mali had a lot to live up to after the unadulterated adulation I held for their 2005 breakthrough album Dimanche à Bamako, an album into which I wore grooves last year. For every tough, sad day of 2007 and every jubilant, sunny day in the beginnings of 2008, Dimanche à Bamako was the soundtrack of my life.

It is still early days yet, but my general impressions of Welcome to Mali are that this album is a little slicker than the last, a little more highly-produced and that they are trying to appeal to a broader audience by singing in English. You know what I think about that? I think artists should sing in their native language. Always. There are enough English singers out there to sing in English. I didn’t especially appreciate Nina Simone singing ‘Ne Me Quitte Pas’; I don’t especially like Madonna singing in Spanish or the Gypsy Kings singing in English. Stick ta whatcha know, I say. And in Amadou's case, singing in English makes him sound like he is in kindergarten. To me, it takes away from the quality of the rest of the album. I enjoy their distinct vocals, but they take some getting used to; and there seems to be a few more guitars than in their last album and it seems less 'ethnic,' for lack of a better term. But I guess, ya can't stop praw-gress.

I guess my concern is that they are sacrificing their artistic integrity (bach! I can't believe I just said that!) with the hope of appealing to a broader audience. Sing in English and the audience will follow? Personally, I've never thought that language in music mattered all that much. I don’t know what the words mean, but who cares? I’ll sing along with my own little sounds and tongue clicks and make my own words up. It works with Tori Amos.

THINGS YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT AMADOU & MARIAM BUT WERE AFRAID TO ASK:

• Originally from Mali, Amadou and Mariam now live in France.
• Their music is refered to as Afro-blues and combines traditional Mali sound with rock guitars, Syrian violins, Cuban trumpets, Egyptian ney, Colombian trombones, Indian tablas and Dogon percussion.
• Manu Chao produced their 2004 album Dimanche à Bamako.
• They have collaborated with the Scissor Sisters.
• They sang the official theme for the World Cup.
• Damon Albarn, of Blur and Gorillaz fame produced this album.
• They are blind.*
• They are rhythmically irresistible and make me do a seated bum dance in my car almost every day.

(*I only mention this because it is not immediately obvious from their pictures and I was well-entrenched in their music before my X embarrassingly pointed it out to me. I am just trying to compassionately prevent you from making the same mistake. Looking back, it does seem kind of obvious, but I honestly just thought they were trying to be hip and trendy.)

Day 3: The Queen Bee*

I am never far away from Tori Amos. She is a part of me as much as my left arm. This isn't something I need to prove or defend, and don't spend much time talking about her with anyone who doesn't love her as much as I do. When love and devotion is this unequivocal, there is no need for discussion.

If you don't like her, that's fine with me. I don't care. I understand that she is not for everyone and generally don't want to waste my time or energy giving reasons why you should listen to her. Mostly because I can't really articulate what they are, anyway. The truth is, I don't even know myself half the time.

Oh sure, I used to try and convert the heathens, and then be frustrated and upset when someone couldn't appreciate her true genius. Make no mistake. This woman is a virtuoso and a prodigy. She plays two pianos at once with as much ease as most of us brush our teeth. But she is also esoteric and experimental. I guess I've always likened my appreciation of Tori Amos to Opera. It takes a certain kind of palate to appreciate.

Consequently, I'm also protective of her. If you aren't already a fan, then I'm not here to convert you. That's not my job. Recently, a friend of mine who is making efforts to branch out musically slid out my copy of American Doll Posse and asked if she could borrow it. My heart skipped a beat, I sucked in my breath, I stammered. And I almost grabbed it out of her hand like it was a hallowed jewel. Because what if she doesn't like it? I just can't even bear the thought.

Nope, it's true. I don't understand what Tori Amos is talking about most of the time. But I also don't really need to. Because I still understand it on some level. Sometimes I *hear* the words, but they don't make sense. And sometimes she's just eating the microphone. But I understand the tone, the mood, the feeling. She'll randomly throw in hilarious abstruse lines like Purple Monkey Dishwasher, Ratatouille Strychnine. And oh, there are harpsichords, screeching, guttural groans and moans and undeniable orgasms right there in the middle of her songs. God Bless Her. Some songs I can't even listen to because I feel like I am somehow violating her privacy, like oh excuse me, I just walked in on her having sex with her husband.

Not even Tori Amos has been spared my musical wrath. Some of her songs I have hated; only to grow into them and catch up to her later. I also admire and adore her ideas and her personas and her alter egos; her pain, her joy, the crescendos, the crazy and hilarious, the meaningful and heart-breaking, the bizarre. Some albums I haven't listened to in years. Some songs I skip over. Some albums I have railed against and struggled with for months.

But I always come around. She always gets me.

So this week, Day 3 of my Musical Odyssey, I am listening to something new. Something which I have surprisingly turned my back on.

In general, I am not a fan of the box set. It's big, it's long, it's expensive. No thanks. And fan or not, I've always kind of seen it as a marketing ploy to make money. Alternate mixes, remixes, unreleased tracks? Meh. Marketing. Ploy. I don't like Greatest Hits albums. A couple of years ago, Tori came out with a collection called A Piano. Eighty-six songs spanning 1992-2006. My thinking has always kind of been ‘I already own all the albums. Who needs B-sides?' Well, the thing with Tori is that she never sings a song exactly the same way twice. So it's so more than remixes and B-sides. It' not a collection of rejects and rubbish.

It still hasn't propmted me to run out and lay down cold hard cash, but fortunately, I have a fabulous friend who chose all the best stuff for me and then burned me a copy for free.

Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you: The Piano Redux. Compliments of my own music guru, The Fire Eater.

flying dutchman
honey
take me with you
walk to Dublin (sucker reprise)
sugar (live from soundcheck)
not david bowie
zero point
ode to my clothes
intro jam to marys of the sea
dolphin song
cooling
peeping tommi
fire-eater’s wife/beauty queen (demo)
playboy mommy (demo)
a sorta fairytale (demo)
here, in my head
merman

And really, all I have to say is: Why don't I own this box set? For as big a fan as I am, this isn't just a mish-mash of remakes. It's more of the good stuff. And what's not to like about that?



* AKA: B-Sides: Who Needs ‘Em?

Day 2: We Are Stardust

I am a Slow Appreciator of Music. I very rarely like something on a first listen. In fact, I am far more likely to spit and mewl and complain and walk away in disgust the first time I hear something.

I am known—rather notoriously amongst my friends, well okay maybe just the one— as a music ‘skipper.’ I am never happier than when I am skipping over a song and tsking and blecking and mumbling disgruntledly under my breath about how ‘they’re not as good as they used to be’ OR ‘what the hell is this shit’ or ‘this is awful' (or some variation thereof)’ to then suddenly and magically one day find myself turning up the volume or pressing repeat and lauding its praises and proclaiming it possibly The Best Song of All Time. At least for that day/week/moment. And fickle music listener that I am, my tastes are ALWAYS subject to change.

That being said, once I am hooked, I am a pretty loyal listener. At least until the next album. And Joni Mitchell has long held a place in my heart since that night when I was nineteen and C was very passionately, very drunkenly singing ‘Case of You’ in his living room. At first, I wasn't too sure about that "Joni Mitchell." I kinda thought she was a little too high-pitched to be a singer. But that 'Big Yellow Taxi’ song of hers was okay. And so it began.

Winter for me means Joni Mitchell and Ladies of the Canyon. Now usually, I don’t pull this album out until the bowels of January necessitate a lighter heart. But this year, it called me a little early. A complete breakdown of all music devices in our home all at the same time including ipod, both laptop and desktop and stereo receiver means that I have been playing Ladies of the Canyon in my car on the way to work.

This is not actually driving music. It is more curl-up-on-the-couch-with-a-bottle-of-red-wine-on-a-cold-winter’s-night music; however, one must do what one can. This album is almost FORTY YEARS old and it still kicks some serious ass. It doesn’t kick ass in the same way that PJ Harvey kicks ass. It kicks folk ass, not rock ass, but ass all the same. I am telling you, there are so many layers to her music: it is soulful and longing, haunting and innocent. It responds in me a need to love and grieve and sing and play a tambourine. This is the album with ‘Big Yellow Taxi’ fame, although personally, I think this is the least great of all the great songs on this album. And the album is solid from beginning to end. Which is saying something. I don't skip over one song!

Every time I listen to it, I have a new favourite, which I think is the sign of a first-rate album. ‘Conversation’ has pretty consistently been my favourite on this album, although lately it is slowly being edged out by ‘The Priest’ with an intermittent ‘Woodstock’ on regular repeat. But then there's 'Morning Morgantown' and 'The Circle Game' too...just all so good.

It captures something that I am not old enough to be a part of, but understand completely. And Joni Mitchell understood and expressed something that is beyond my grasp , but which I somehow appreciate anyway. As long as she knows what it is, we are all going to be okay. We will survive this day, this winter, this drive to work and shall even live to see another.

This album to me is most telling of why Mitchell is and how she became a music icon, legend, songstress and lyricist. And considering that it has stood the test of forty years, I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that this album is one of the greatest of its time. We are talking Desert Island status here. I would even be so bold as to say that it has eclipsed ‘Blue’ as my long-standing favourite Joni Mitchell album.

And here's the other great thing I discovered this week: The thing about underrated and great things is that they are underrated because not everyone understands them. And understanding can sometimes take years; a lifetime. You need to build up to it, kind of like the yoga. Just like you can’t rush into a yoga pose to get to the end, you kinda can’t start with Ladies of the Canyon all haphazard-like. Well maybe you can, but I am a Slow Appreciator, so I need to build up to it. If you are not a Joni Mitchell fan, don’t start here. Start with ‘Blue.’ If you are not a fan of folk music, then don’t start with Joni Mitchell. Build up to her, too. Start at level one and hang out there until you understand the music completely.

I am still working my way up to Hejira. Call it the Dancer Pose of the music world. But I'll get there someday.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to get myself back to the Garden.

Day 1: Monkey Business

I recently started a new job. I hated it at first, but decided that I needed to be mindful and try a little harder to find the joy in the work. Essentially, I am actually very lucky to live in a city where monkey admin work pays as well as it does and very grateful to be working at all, especially right before Christmas. But it doesn’t make it any more fun and exciting.

So I have created a little affirmation when the going gets tough that reminds me how I have chosen this, and suffering is optional. So (big deep heavy sigh) “I choose to allow all my experiences to be joyous and loving.”

Much to my surprise, this has worked. I am not doing cartwheels around the office and joyously and lovingly creating spreadsheets with enthusiastic gusto or anything, but I am not hating it. And that is something. And in the spirit of seeking the good, instead of lamenting my long drive to and from work every morning, I am actually relishing the opportunity to rediscover some fabulous and forgotten music. I'm going to try five days of fabulous music, new and old.

Case in point: PJ Harvey Stories From the City, Stories from the Sea. This 2000 album is by far, the rocker goddess’ best and most commercially appealing album. It is fantastic. It was fantastic 8 years ago; it is fantastic now. It has stood the test of time. There is some whooping and hollerin’…a little bit of screeching…and a lot of rock and roll. The whores hustle, the hustles whore, oh yesyes.