Old Airport Road

I need it to rain.

Every site online says that it won’t rain today. Every site tells me I have to endure another day of sun, but I honestly don’t know if I can. I haven’t had a thought in days. I haven’t been able to think. To process. The sun and the heat and the humidity have drained me of any ambition. Any energy. I still function and I still sit and talk and laugh. But I need a moment to myself. I need a moment where I can feel whatever it is that the sun has kept me from feeling. It’s random and it doesn’t make sense, but I know that rain would make everything better. I know that there is something that I need to deal with – some problem I’ve kept tucked away and hidden – that will show itself in the shadows thats clouds create.

I would clean my room, and watch through my windows and people leap over puddles and muddle through the rain water – running, having forgotten their umbrellas. I would walk down Thayer Street and feel the water pound my skull and hear the cars honk, their lights on in the middle of the day. The water would run down the street, picking up bits of trash and dirt and liter before depositing it down drains – clearing the way, I suppose. I would sit on my bed with my window cracked and smell Spring. I would listen to the water hit pavement and nap for a few hours. I would wake up and feel my bones ache and know, for a moment, that I exist.

But best of all, I’d have a moment to myself. It is too hard to be alone when the weather is as nice as it has been. It is too easy to get trapped in the feelings of jubilation that the sun brings forth, and rain would take care of that for me. I would finally have the time and energy to understand what I am doing.

I was apparently delusional when I thought he was gay. I was “taking advantage” of him when he showed up at my door half-naked, tipsy, sat on my bed, and kissed me back. He was never going to come out he said, and, like I wrote earlier, I respected his closet. I did what anyone who is a good friend should do. I told everyone he wasn’t gay, and even made a girl cry hysterically when I confronted her about spreading a rumor that was actually true! When his ass had the police on the way to his door, after one of his neighbors complained about the weed smoke, I had my friend (a police officer) look the other way.

But when the shit hits Facebook, the gloves come off. Your ass flew down to West Palm Beach  to get your dick wet, as if I hadn’t already told you that I was falling in love with you and wanted to date you. Really?!? That’s fine. You spent your days in Florida gaying it up for the camera, and everyone – including my friends that had sworn to protect you – found out. Haha, alright. While you will probably detag these photos once you’re friends see this post, the damage has already been done. Consider yourself warned: your closet is no longer my concern.

And as a PSA to the rest of you: boys in glass closets really shouldn’t be throwing make-up cases!

S/Alexander

The Bird and the Bee is an amazing duo formed out of LA a few years ago. I had heard their contribution to the Sex and the City soundtrack, but I honestly didn’t give them a second thought until Vogue mentioned them in this month’s magazing (yet another victory for Ms. Anna Wintour).  One sleepless night later I am able to count myself as a fan of theirs. They are at once soothing and thoughtful and catchy and, well, you get the idea. I feel sorry for the people that live on my floor next semester, as The Bird and The Bee are going to end up repeat for at least the first few weeks of school. I chose two of my favorite songs to share, but I suggest that you go ahead and hit up the torrents and download their entire album - it is definatly worth your time.

Again and Again:

Fucking Boyfriend:

I saw this on PostSecret and almost collapsed:

diana, princess of whales

I was only ten when she died, but that is exactly how I felt.

Not everyone likes The Killers. I am in the minority who didn’t hear “Somebody Told Me” and assume I was dealing with a static entry. I don’t care who they are ripping off or, as Brandon Flowers might put it, honoring, I like them for what they are – a distraction. They aren’t the best thing out there, but they are interesting enough. Their new single is catching a lot of shit because Flowers’ lyric, “Are we human, or are we dancer” doesn’t make sense. He claims artistic license – I say he wanted a word he could more easily rhyme “answer” with. The trance remix is done by Armin van Buuren out of the Netherlands, and his shit is always on point.

I found a video on youtube that is completely blowing my mind. Someone took the time to run the song “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley backwards. The thing is, it doesn’t sound that bad. But then again, it’s 6:50am and I am almost out of cigarettes, so no doubt the bleating of a sheep wouldn’t sound that bad at this point. Check the video out, and at least you’ll have something interesting to share at the watercooler.

If for some reason that doesn’t peak your fancy, take a listen to Beowulf’s interpretation of “Crazy” during her tour last year. I got chills, but then again – Beyonce does know that the quickest way to a gay man’s heart is large weaves and random interludes. “Crazy” comes about 2minutes into the piece, but you should really just invest the time to watch it all the way through.

I couldn’t watch anymore Gnarls Barkley videos, so I started researching Danger Mouse. He didn’t come to my attention until the “Grey Album,” which was an amazing mash-up album he put together using vocals from Jay-Z’s “The Black Album” and beats from the Beatles “White Album.” It turns out that Danger is also producing some amazing talent. She goes by Joker’s Daughter, but I can’t find anything else about her except for a link to her MySpace music page. I did happen upon an .mp3 of her first single, and I actually think it’s good – but then again, I have a thing for British white women.

Click HERE for the audio.

Martin Kippenberger is an artist I picked up this month while browsing google images. I don’t know art. The closest I have come to understanding art was the forty minutes I spent at the Met before giving up and having a cigarette outside. But even my untrained eyes can see that Kippenberger was talented. Wikipedia informs me that he was well known for his “provocative, jocular and hard-drinking public persona,” which I have to say sounds like something that I could be down with. Wikipedia also mentions that he died in 1996. The Museum of Modern Art is holding a retrospective of his work in 2009 and I might have to take the lonely trainride from Providence to see it in person. Kippenberger worked in a lot of different styles and materials, so I just randomly chose some of my favorites – but feel free to click the images and find some of your own favorites:

collage

keller