monday, bloody monday….

so here we are with the days getting shorter and the nights getting longer. daylight savings time just around the corner, where you go to work with the sun barely coming up, and leave work with it going back down. where does the day go? off to watch the stock market falling deeper and deeper into the small intestines of hell, of course!

 

just another monday.....?

just another monday.....?

so if you haven’t been laid off from your shitty paying job just yet (or even better if you have!) maybe you’re looking for a little something to fall into to take your mind off of how much things suck…here is peanut st. cosmo to provide you, dear reader, with some escape!!!

i myself like a nice dark movie here and there. a few of my personal favorites are donnie darko and closer, so due to these kind of selections, my netflix(dotcom!) was kind enough to recommend a little movie like this:

wristcutters: a love story, despite being about suicide, is surprising uplifting. i hate being one of those people that spoil movies, so i’m going to keep this description brief. as it’s lead is patrick fugit, who you may remember from the movie, almost famous. (benjamin, please do not launch into how much you hate cameron crowe.) and also featuring the lovely shannyn sossamon, as well as will arnett, who could even make an infomercial entertaining. i haven’t enjoyed something with such a serious kind of subject matter in a long time…..

another wise choice was something that slipped totally under the radar. it’s called married life.

as most adults are familiar with the dealings of long term relationships and how wonderful they start and slow decline to shit, we understand the wandering eye, the desire to end this oatmeal bland relationship and take up with the next PYT that comes your way. this is a great movie with twists and turns where i was never really sure who to root for. and, as i hear a lot of guys like her….

 

to make up to break up, to make up....?

to make up to break up, to make up....?

 

 

if movies isn’t quite your thing, i find books to be the another good road for distraction. a writer i’ve enjoyed for a long time, but just recently got a better understanding of is jonathan franzen. most recently, i’ve finished reading his group of essays, “how to be alone.” usually, i have a hard time staying engaged with short stories or essays. this book was a long read, compared with the speed that i can finish a novel, but it was different in the sense of how i could identify with franzen and his character formulation. the very first of his books i read was, “the corrections.” if you’re not familiar with it, the novel tells the story of two midwestern parents who raise two sons and a daughter. to me it shows that dysfunction is the new functional and no family is perfect, but has it’s bright shiny parts that makes it stand out from others. i’ve enjoyed it so much, i’ve shoved it off onto other readers, often times at knife point, to make them love it as much as i have. in reading “the corrections” before reading “how to be alone,” i came to understand how much of franzen’s own upbringing he pulls into his writing. in the corrections, the older son gary hasn’t realized how much he has become like his own withdrawn father. in a few essays in “how to be alone,” a reader can pick up on franzen’s own conservativeness over the rest of society and their need to over share and let their own thoughts be common knowledge to anyone within listening distance of them and their bluetooth. if this sounds like something you might enjoy, pick it up and give it a try. i have lots of kitchen knives that could help change your mind.

well, if this post hasn’t thoroughly depressed you….not to worry! today was only monday…you still have four more days until your weekend. if this asteroid isn’t the end of us all….muah ha ha ha ha!!!!!

 

thursday....roughly.....?

thursday....roughly.....?

Counterforce After Dark: Make Love, Not Debate Jokes Edition

I am unable to communicate in anything that is not slow jams these days.  I have a glass of Courvosieur permanently attached to my right hand, and I just ordered a bear skinned rug for my new apartment to make sweet love to you in.

I thought we could class it up a bit this week, take a trip across the Atlantic and visit France by way of some French slow jams. I’ve never been to France, but I enjoy bread, wine, smoking and laughing at Americans, so I imagine it’s the kind of place I would love to visit.

First, Air’s “Playground Love”, from the Virgin Suicides. Is there anything more bittersweet than your high school love?  Mine lives in Denmark, where he is getting his PhD in something I can barely begin to explain to you. I saw him when I visited Copenhagen, and we did a lot of shots in really old European bars. I was so sad to leave him, even though I knew nothing could, or would happen between us.

Vanessa Paradis, aka Mrs. Johnny Depp, released an album in 1992 that I read a really terrible review of in Sassy magazine and my little 12 year old brain knew I had to go see just how bad it was. Of course, I loved it. Her version of “Be My Baby” is sugary pop fun; sad, pathetic lyrics declaring unrequited love over bouncy fun tunes, the perfect musical description to the agony and ecstasy of loving someone who doesn’t love you back.  Not technically a slow jam, but it’s French, okay! Back up off my column.

Anything Daft Punk does turns me into mush. I love the rare Daft Punk songs with words, especially this one, “Something About Us”, what I would like to imagine is a romantic ode to a fling, a one night stand: someone you may love in the moment, but you know is leaving. The obsession with love that lasts forever in our society is an odd one, most of the people you date, or even know, aren’t going to be with you forever. Sometimes you fall in love for an hour or two. Or in my case, for about 12 hours in a hotel room in Vegas (and that’s all I have to say about that!)

The person who introduced me to the band that wrote our next slow jam, m83′s “Teen Angst”, described the music of m83 to me as what it felt like to fall in love. That’s how I feel about this song. Like I’m falling down the rabbit hole.

I’m actually not the biggest fan of the next song, but I’m including it for the sake of completion in a post about French slow jams to either cry or have sex to (or both at the same time) because this is pretty much what I think of in my head when I think of a ridiculously cheesy French pop song. The video even has a woman in a black trench coat walking around a barren urban landscape. Don’t knock us over the head with how artsy you are, Mono.

And finally, finally, for the comedown, for the afterglow.. a little Serge Gainsbourg to sing you to sleep