Tunes Tuesday, "Piledriver Waltz," Alex Turner

Some people might grow out of angsty teen movies, but I'm not in that camp.  If you're like me and love a good "quirky sensitive outsider teen against the world" flick, put Submarine on your Netflix queue.  An easy description of Submarine is the British Rushmore, but that's unfair.  It's artfully done, with some beautiful scenes that will stick with you.  And the main character is deeply likable, even when he's doing unlikeable things, like conducting "routine searches" of his parents' bedroom, or contemplating killing his girlfriend's dog to prepare her for the possible death of a parent.  He means well, even in the most disastrously misguided of his decisions.  

And I knew I had to love the film when I realized the soundtrack is by Alex Turner of the Arctic Monkeys.  He could forget the whole rock thing and just write these sorts of ballads, and that would make me happy.  I love the way he turns a phrase - "If you're going to try and walk on water, make sure you wear your comfortable shoes."

People Magazine Superfan

People magazine is one of the highlights of my week.  Is that pathetic to say?  It's pure escapism, but with much more intellectual heft than say, an US Weekly.  It's just well done and always has been.  I remember wanting  a subscription so badly growing up, but it was extravagant.  I would linger at the dentist to read all the articles.  Finally my mom gave in and got a subscription, "for Adele," she said.  Funny how she's continued renewing ever since I moved out.  Her pop culture knowledge has skyrocketed.  My dad, however, lives on another planet when it comes to celebrities.  I would pull out a People magazine and point to various stars and ask my dad who they were.  "And this is?" I'd ask, pointing to Jennifer Lopez's fox fur-eyelash adorned headshot.  "No clue," my dad would say.  Brangelina, Bennifer 2.0, Reese, he was in the dark on all of them. It was fantastically amusing, like talking to an alien.

One guy I went out with could barely contain his disdain when he saw a copy of People on my coffee table.  "You subscribe to People?" he said with a sneer. My indie cred had just nosedived.  "Yes, I subscribe to People," I said.  "I love People."  I do.  I'm not ashamed.

Apparently Joe does too.  A few weeks ago, he picked up a copy and read it cover to cover, focusing especially on the "Bachelorette-where-did-the-love-go-wrong" article.

Yesterday he asked if I got a People this week.  "You're not going to believe this," I said.  "I donated it to my boss's care package for her surgery next week.  Without even reading it myself first.  Have you ever heard of anything so selfless??"

"People magazines are a dime a dozen in a hospital setting," said Joe, as he threw up his arms.  His eyes glowed with an anger that seemed almost primal.

OK, maybe I'm exaggerating a tad bit... But just barely.  It made me laugh though.  I asked him if I could write about this conversation on my blog.

"I probably seem like a sociopath on your blog.  Maybe I seem like a sociopath in real life," he said.

Perhaps so, but at least he's giving me plenty of material.

Tunes Tuesday "In the Bleak Midwinter," Ed Harcourt

I carried a torch for Ed Harcourt's music in college.  I think he should have gotten more recognition Stateside, his songs were so lovely in that singer-songwriter, turn of the new millennium way.  The albums I wore out in my Honda Civic's CD player were as follows: "From Every Sphere," "Here Be Monsters," and "Strangers."

I'm writing about Ed today because I saw him listed on this encyclopedic list of Christmas songs from indie/alternative bands, and I had to check it out.  Merry Christmas if you celebrate!  Hope your week is going well so far, I for one can't wait till Sunday.

Quoted, Vol.14

"After that, work and hope.  But never hope more than you work." - Beryl Markham, West With the Night

Thwarted Ikea Trip

My roommate Christine and I had every intention two weeks ago to go to Ikea and buy a coffee table.  And perhaps a floor lamp for my bedroom.  This one, maybe?

We headed out down Georgia Avenue with the best of intentions, chatting away, when all of a sudden, Christine slammed on the brakes as the car in front of us skidded to a stop.  We kept rolling and tapped the car's bumper.

Luckily, there was no damage to either car.  The only problem was that Christine's brakes weren't working right.  That's a big problem.

So the Ikea trip was off.  I said we should get some dinner while we waited for the tow truck driver to arrive.  It was a desolate-looking stretch of road, but then, like a beacon, we saw a little diner down the block.  I looked through the window, and it seemed crowded, with people eating at every table.  Strangely enough, I saw a clown sitting at one of the tables in the window.

I explained our situation to the waitress and asked her if an hour was enough time to eat in the dining room.

"Well, we're pretty busy tonight, on account of the clown," she said.

I guess Bubbles the clown is a big draw.  While Bubbles whipped up balloon animals for the kids, Christine and I ate take-out cheesesteaks in the vestibule of the restaurant.  The waitresses were nice enough to let us do that.  Maybe I was a little loopy from the stress of this, but can I tell you that this was the best cheesesteak I've had?  And I've been to Philly!  Woodside Delicatessen, Silver Spring.  Try it! I'd go back.  The decor was quaint too.

The tow truck driver showed up right on time.  The two of us slid into the front seat with the driver after he hooked up Christine's car.  We tried to make conversation.  But the conversation veered in a direction I personally wish it hadn't gone, when he started talking about how he broke up with his girlfriend recently.

"She thought every female customer I had wanted to jump my bones," he said.  Polite laughter from us.

"Of course, I do date my customers sometimes," he said.

This wasn't going to be one of those times.

Then he continued that he liked to buy his lady friends cologne and fancy lingerie, not the trashy kind, mind you, real nice lingerie.  Real nice.  I was trying so hard not to burst out laughing.  I don't think he would've liked that response.

So we got the car situation straightened out and when we got out of the pickup truck, he gave us his phone number and said don't hesitate to call him if the car breaks down again, or even if we just want to talk.

Think I Found a New Email Signature

This month, my book club read "Nothing Daunted." It's a non-fiction account describing the adventures of two East Coast upper class girls as they journeyed across the country to become school teachers in the wild wild West, circa 1916.  The thing I loved about the book is how eager everyone was, from the children who trudged for miles in the snow to go to school, to the teachers who found purpose in education and uniting a community, and the settlers who believed in the American dream of a pursuing a few acres of land to call your own, no matter how harsh the terrain.  If you want to find out more about the book, take a gander at this article that fellow book club member Ellie wrote for The Atlantic!

Whenever I read old letters, like the ones in "Nothing Daunted," I feel a pang of loss for our language.  The formality, the eloquence - we just don't talk that way anymore.  Maybe I'll try to bring it back.  I will adopt the signature that I found in the book, written by Ferry Carpenter in his correspondence.  Instead of saying "Sent from my iPhone," the auto signature will say:

"With best regards to you I am very truly

Adele"