Crumbs

Michael Jackson died and Jens Lekman contracted swine flu. The world as we know it, is crumbling.

Right now, sitting at my desk, I can hear the church bells chime and the faint yowling of a bagpiper practicing; semi-drowned by the hubbub of traffic and gulls bellowing bird profanities (I imagine).

My nails are dirty and the red nail polish that's meant to hide the dirt, is chipped. I can't take a shower, after a draining day at work, as the damn thing is a hazard. Water and electricity can kill you see, or so says Mr. Fix It the handyman.

I have coffee and music to get me through this dirt. I have Golden Silvers and instant brew. Is all good.

How great is this eh?

Makes me want True Romance.

Jack Peñate on the other hand makes me want to dance.

Tonight's Tonight transmits my thoughts home, to Icelandic summer nights out, when the sun never sets and going to bed isn't an option, so you might as well just stay up until the body crumbles.



Church bells in the early hours take the role of a makeshift alarm - you cover the windows with dark sheets to sleep.


Tomorrow is my day off and I'm getting tired thinking about sleeping in.

Repeaterbeater

[My bedroom "prison view" of the Castle.]

Edinburgh woke me up this morning with a cold n' misty kick to my muddled head, on a grey and murky Monday morning.

Weekend remnants; flat full of drunk people, dancing to Jacko's best-of hits, getting my hair cut listening to 50's tunes, a horror film with manatees, pints and honey-vodka, walking in the cemetery past midnight and cracking puzzles. Following my rule book of diversity. Not bad, not bad at all.

But I have more Mew to chew. It's short, old Frenger-style, which I'm beaming about.

I don't know if you're digging on Mew at all, they're not everybody's cup of brew, but I never regret listening. Maybe it's my weird against-the-odds-genes. Click Repeaterbeater.

[+ I can't help but love the title. Rhymes are so hot right now.]

---



p.s. The piñata didn't survive the weekend. I was lucky to make it out alive.

Coconuts, Plenty of Junk Food

Yeep yeep - Really want to get my greedy claws on CocoRosie's new self-released EP, Coconuts, Plenty of Junk Food, which is currently doing the rounds and promises a forthcoming LP worthy of many fine adjectives. At present they're only selling it at concerts n' gigs, but the internet has been kind to me and I'll wait patiently.

love love to CocoRosie. Merci.

Listen: [Happy Eyez]


There's something spooky lurking in the song that reminds me of Jamie T's Calm Down Dearest


CocoRosie waits for the Milkman

Where are my lemons?

I'm having a hard time filling this empty page.

Haven't listened to anything new of late, just been scrolling through some of my old music, taking photographs and writing a sentence here, in a notebook there, word and a word, time from time.


Today 15/06/09



Been having dreams of saving ducks {Setting them free in swimming pools}, snorting cocaine {and worrying about my nose collapsing} and writing music.

{In my dreams I sing my melodies with a voice I don't recognize. It's pretty neat.}

When I wake, I moan, not remembering how those sure-to-be-hits went. Pulling my hair.

I sometimes wish I could download my brain and dreams onto my computer, and in the mornings just: Press Print.

My legacy. In Landscape format, Helvetica Font, on nice 120 g paper. A lemon-y colour.

---

Here's summer in a song for you - Leona Ness:

Leave Your Boyfriends Behind




Keep in touch over the summer.

New Mew chk chk chk ! ! !

I'd be lying if I said I haven't been waiting for this day for a long time now. And here we are. A new Mew single has arrived.

It's goes from a messy Mewish start to a familiar Frengerism. What can I say, they can do nothing wrong in my books. I can't be helped, save yourselves.

Mew - Introducing Palace Players

The album titled:

No more stories
Are told today
I'm sorry
They washed away

No more stories
The world is grey
I'm tired
Let's wash away

will be released late August this year.


According to lead singer Jonas Bjerre, the new album will be more upbeat and merry, in contrast to And The Glass Handed Kites, although the longish poetic title doesn't seem to inspire much happiness in me. But then again, whatever Jonas Bjerre says, I'll abide to.

He's the voice!




And with that I'm off to the park to roast my shanks until they're good enough to eat.