Andrew Bird concert

Tags

Music

My friend: “I stepped into the heart of hipsterdom…” ME: “… and lived to tell the tale.” The show started at 8pm. The Cass McCombs trio played the first 45 minutes. The bass player (tall lanky guy in big curly hair/wig(?) and scale-studded jean jacket) looks incredibly like one of my coworkers (from look to mannerism – the way he walks around in bouncy steps). McComb looks like the poster child of hipsterhood: a white, medium-brim sun hat (have you noticed that the older generation – 50 and above – Japanese tourists love wearing that kind of hat?), and tight khakis cut short by calf-length red socks. His voice is the generic soft rock/indie kind but two songs really stood out. One is a fast aggressive wall of sound reminiscent of The Velvet Underground, while the other is jazzy with sparkling, cascading notes with a touch of Nick Drake. Mr. Bird stepped onto the stage at 9pm, in Beatles-esque suit and tie, his shimmering curly artist/emo hair framing his face in the lights like a halo, and started to play a short and mellow song I don’t recognize. Immediately following that he took off his shoes, cast them aside, and moved on to Nervous Tic…. – people screamed (in excitement) when that happened. He played mostly new songs from the upcoming (March) album, but did satisfy the audience with the classics (other than Tic, also Measuring Cups, Skin, and Capital I). In between he sometimes had a monologue (half poetry reciting half self-conscious mumbling) and broke into half singing in the middle, or he would be murmuring something and because he seemed so shy that at one point some audience gave him a hard time by shouting something embarrassing. He just ignored them and moved on. Oh yeah, he also said that he “loved Portland and dreamed about working here.” I was like, yeah, I bet you say that to all the cities on your tour At one point, when he was talking, a baby cried. There was an awkward silence. He paused for one second, then said: “I guess this show *IS* for All Ages.” Love that understated sense of humor and quick wit During encore he played Fake Palindromes and one other song. He is definitely one of the few artists that actually sound better live. His voice is incredible: powerful, velvety, soaring, almost operatic. The arrangement is dazzling and richly layered. Everything comes together seamlessly, esp. the actual playing and the pre-recording – you can’t tell where one ends and the other starts if you close your eyes – I still can’t figure out how he does it. The various sounds of the violin is simply magical and sublime. The whistling brings a sense of playfulness and wistfulness. His body language is both quirky and endearing (he is 100% emo!) – he will twitch his head from time to time and I don’t know if it was an actual “tic” (not likely) or a deliberate move to match the song/mood of the show (more likely). The whole show is like a hipster congregation. My friend and I felt so out of place – me especially. We looked around (Aladdin Theater is small and thus feels intimate, with interesting decor, but it doesn’t have the best sound system/effect) and saw only one other non “skinny White person with ironic T-shirt and pants with the right leg rolled up (therefore bike grease-proof)” – an Indian guy. I joked that he and I were the token minorities.

The Last Kiss

Tags

love, Movies

It’s not Garden State, although it has an almost equally strong soundtrack (all sound vaguely familiar but I only recognized Snow Patrol, Cold Play, and Fiona Apple). The perpetual adolescence of the late 20s early 30s is oh-so-true. The story feels completely real, so real you can almost see them in the people around you (or the other way around), and it hits the nail on the head, without mercy, pretense, or excessive sentimentality. The disintegration of relationships is hard to watch, but the eventual growth (everybody has a new beginning, one way or another) of the characters is, albeit too “feel-goodish” and predictable, still convincing. It’s almost 2 hours long, but somehow I feel that it’s a lot longer than that. Not that it’s “boring” long – just the opposite – it’s engaging from beginning to end. It’s just that so many things happened the plot is jam-packed. It’s like several “Guy Relationship” TV series (the short-lived Love Monkey & Three Kings came into mind) rolled into one.

It’s a lot of drama, but not depressing at all. On the contrary, there are many laugh-out-loud moments, and many “awwww”-inducing scenes. Zach is again the clueless, but basically, nice, dude. Jenna is honestly kinda boring but really grew on me, esp. after she freaked out over the affair. Rachel Bilson is basically playing “Summer” all over again (still very cute).

While watching the movie, I realized how much Zach reminds me of my coworker BR, a 39-year-old new father who seems to be absolutely terrified AND resigned at the same time. Eric Christian Olsen, on the other hand, is like the twin of this cute circ guy at MCPL (** note to self: I will tell him that next time I see him – and OMG I just realized they might “actually” be brothers or something because Olsen was born in Eugene, OR!!!).

NYT Review

There are a lot of interesting quotes but I can only roughly remember/paraphrase the following:

Mom: “Life is pretty much gray… If you insist on things being only black and white, you will be unhappy most of the time.” (** roughly paraphrased)

Chris: “She is perfect. She is like a guy.”

Stephen: “What you feel only matters to you! It’s what you do to the people you love that counts.”

Freakonomics on online dating / first autumn rain

Tags

books, dating, Humor, love, rain

So I revisited this book and couldn’t stop laughing when I came to the part where the authors discussed personal ads:

“They were also a lot richer, taller, skinnier, and better-looking than average. That, at least, is what they wrote about themselves.”

“This leaves only about 30 percent of the users with ‘average’ looks, including a paltry 1 percent with ‘less than average’ looks – which suggests that the typical online dater is either a fabulist, a narcissist, or simply resistant to the meaning of ‘average’.”

“For men, a woman’s looks are of paramount importance. For women, a man’s income is terribly important… For men, being short is a big disadvantage (which is probably so many lie about it)… For a woman, being overweight is deadly (which is probably why they lie).”

“In the world of online dating, a headful of blond hair on a woman is worth about the same as having a college degree – and, with a $100 dye job versus a $100,000 tuition bill, and awful lot cheaper.”

This is the question I have been pondering about. Are people really looking for their soul mates, someone that they connect with in every way, BOTH physically and mentally? Or, are the conventional stereotypes of women and men actually the “golden rule”, that men are attracted only to looks, and women to money, that they (or, we) have been lying, consciously or subconsciously, to the world and to themselves (ourselves)? Maybe we are just genetically predisposed to be, er… shallow? Maybe, just maybe, it’s human nature? For those of us that defy the “norm”, how long can we hold out before we sell out?

Another thing I have been wondering about, is how stunningly similar all the personal ads are. Everybody loves music, movies, books, hiking, biking, camping. Everybody wants someone fun, cute, smart, and most importantly, slim (or in the more PC term, HWP). Who doesn’t? Everybody sounds the same. Everybody wants the same. The only differences are: 1) age and 2) the level of bad spelling/grammar. What makes you, YOU? What makes you different, even a little bit, from the masses? What’s so unique and interesting about you that makes you a good companion.

Woo-hoo!! First “real” post-summer rain!

Concluded, apartment hunting saga

Tags

apartment

I should have written about this earlier, but for one reason or another never got around to doing it. It seems like things always work out for me at the last minute. I got the approval notice on the same day I was supposed to tell my current landlord whether I was moving out by the end of Sept or not; I used my last check for the deposit; I found my dream apartment when I was about to lose hope, when I had absolutely no other apartments that I was slightly interested in. When I was waiting at the bus stop this morning after signing the lease, I still couldn’t quite believe that I actually got THE apartment.

The gist of the story is: I have been wanting to move into apartments in this area, and this complex in particular, for a long time, ever since I started looking. Apartments from this company are unbelievably popular. There are seldom openings, when one does come up, it’s snatched almost immediately. What can I say, good apartments are like good guys – they are seldom available. I guess success is really 99% hard work plus 1% chance. Chance/serendipity plays a big role in this whole process. I took two full weeks off just looking for apartments but due to timing and my being ultra picky, I never found anything. I checked the websites of prospective property management companies several times a day, but still nothing turned up during the “full-time searching” periods. I was on the verge of giving up. Towards the end, instead of checking CL religiously (every hour) I just checked it about twice a day. Then on Monday afternoon, I saw their ad.

Anyway, the whole thing was pretty dramatic. I saw their ad on Monday, called and as usual nobody answered, called several times more and finally one of the managers (a couple) picked up. She told me that someone already sent in an application. Remembering my friend (who used to live in San Francisco and had plenty of experiences getting frustrated by the apt hunting process)’s advice (“if you want something really bad, you gotta go the extra mile!”), I told her that I was ok being the runner up, even though on previous occasions the ones before me always passed the screening. THEN, I told her, very sincerely and passionately, how much I would love to live there, how I had been eying this apartment for a long time but never got a chance to be the first applicant, blah blah blah. I guess sometimes desperation (or… enthusiasm ) does work. She was quite impressed/moved and told me if I dropped by that evening (I couldn’t leave early and she had sth to do that night) to fill out the application she left under her doormat, she would put me on the top of the waiting list. So I did, and last night (around 9pm) I got a call and was told that the first application indeed didn’t go through.

Just got back from the apartment. It is sooooo perfect, *almost* perfect anyway. It’s smaller than my current one (big enough for me) and in a great setting (2nd floor, the balcony has a full view of a rolling grassy slope and green trees of the Forest Park). It has bamboo floor in the living room (yes!!!). It’s also in a very residential area (all apartments and houses), with off-street parking, and even cheaper than my current apartment. It doesn’t have its own washer/dryer, but I don’t mind using the laundry room all that much. The funny thing is, I was so enamoured by the apartment and its surroundings that I didn’t even ask the questions in my carefully prepared Excel spreadsheet of checklist. What can I say, love is blind! – I later called back and asked a few specific questions and got answers I wanted to hear. So… I took the bus back to work, and realized that I didn’t have enough change (only one 10 dollar bill) for the ride (right now I live in Fareless Square so buying tickets is not a habit). I sheepishly told the driver, he grudgingly told me to remember next time, I apologized profusely, but was happy that he was so nice. Then after getting off the bus I was caught in a heavy downpour, which didn’t dampen my joy at all.
—————————————————————

Anyway, my love for the new place was reaffirmed today. This, is, my kind of place. I have never been happier or more excited about moving.

Life Lessons:
– Be careful of what you wish for, becoz you might just get it;
– Nothing is impossible if you care to work hard for it;
– When opportunity knocks, you must open the door (** take a chance even when the hope is but a glimmer);

—————————————————————

The cold is killin’ me!!! I feel so miserable. However, I am quite excited about one other thing. I am going to Andrew Bird’s show at The Aladdin Theater late Sept! Finally, a show that’s interesting that’s not sold out! It’ll be my first Aladdin experience.

High Fidelity quotes

Tags

books, love, Nick Hornby

So I re-read High Fidelity, well, just the parts where I underlined the last time I read it. I feel compelled to record in this journal “The Best of HF”. All the clever turn of phrases is as relevant as ever. I agree wholeheartedly with this New Yorker reviewer who said: “Hornby has established himself… as a maestro of the male confessional.” I guess the brutally honest, always hilarious, sometimes poignant, exposé of the male psyche makes men (and sometimes women too – it certain strikes a chord in my heart!) smile in recognition while at the same time leaving them feeling incredibly vulnerable.

———————————

The perfect match, if you ask me, is between the Cosmo woman and the fourteen-year-old boy.

But I still felt a fraud. I was like all those people who suddenly shaved their heads and said they’ve always been punks, they’d been punks before punk was even thought of.

… for every single minute I felt as though I was standing on a dangerously narrow ledge… there was no room to stretch out and relax… I worried that I was never ever going to be able to say anything interesting or amusing to her about anything at all.

What came first – the music of the misery? Did I listen to music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to music? Do all those records turn you a melancholy person?

They’ve been listening to the sad songs longer than they’ve been living the unhappy lives.

My genius, if you can call it that, is to combine a whole load of averageness into one compact frame… lots of blokes have impeccable music taste but don’t read, lots of blokes read but are really fat, lots of blokes are sympathetic to feminism but have stupid beards, lots of blokes have a Woody Allen sense of humor but look like Woody Allen… if I do OK with women, it’s not because of the virtues I have, but because of the shadows I don’t have.

Tragic. I’m glad I learned to stay home and sulk.

Unless you are so paranoid about loss that you choose someone unlossable.

It’s brilliant, being depressed; you can behave as badly as you like.

I’m very good at the past. It’s the present I can’t understand.

… a let’s-be-grown-up-about-life’s-imperfectibility sort of conversation, an abstract, adult analysis.

I could see her losing interest in me, so I worked like mad to get that interest back, and when I got it back, I lost interest in her all over again.

I’m unhappy because she doesn’t want me; if I can convince myself that she does want me a bit, then I’ll be OK again; because then I won’t want her, and I can get on with looking for someone else.

I cut corners and trim edges and widen the margins and speak, in big letters to make it all look a bit more detailed than it really is… I hint at a deep ocean of melancholy just below the surface.

This, really, is the bottom line, the chief attraction of the opposite sex for all of us, old and young, men and women: we need someone to save us from the sympathetic smiles in the Sunday-night cinema queue, someone who stop us from falling down into the pit where the permanently single live with their mums and dads… I’d rather stay in for the rest of my life than attract that kind of attention.

A snob obscurantist.

Maybe we all live life at too high a pitch, those of us who absorb emotional things all day, and as a consequence we can never feel merely content: we have to be unhappy, or ecstatically, head-over-heels happy, and those states are difficult to achieve within a stable, solid relationship.

We’re all cynics and romantics, sometimes simultaneously…

… life’s four categories – happily coupled, unhappily coupled, single, and desperate.

“It’s just that most of the time you can’t be bothered… you just don’t do anything. You get lost in your head, and you sit around thinking instead of getting on with something, and most of the time yo think rubbish. You always seem to miss what’s really happening.”

“Something more than waiting for life to change and keeping your options open… you will be lying on your deathbed, dying of some smoking-related disease, and you’ll be thinking, ‘well, at least I’ve kept my options open. At least I never ended up doing something I couldn’t back out of.’ And all the time you’re keeping your options open, you’re closing them off.”

She’s talking about detail, clutter, the stuff that stops you from floating away.

It’s just as likely to be the look of benevolent indulgence that a mother gives a toddler, or a look of amused exasperation, even a look of pained concern.

It’s not what you like but what you’re like that’s important.

… and they have to fight to get there, and perhaps as a consequence they do not get the feeling that real life is going on elsewhere. I don’t even feel as if I’m the center of my own world, so how am I supposed to feel as though I’m the center of anyone else’s?

… because I know I’m stuck, and I don’t like it. It would be nicer, in some ways, if I wasn’t so bound to her; it would be nicer if those sweet possibilities, that dreamy anticipation you have when you’re fifteen or twenty or twenty-five, even, and you know that the most perfect person in the world might walk into your shop of office or friend’s party at any moment… But it’s all gone, I think, and that’s enough to make anyone cross.

… textbook symptoms of a crush: nervous stomach, long periods of daydreaming, an inability to remember what she looks like… I am doing the usual thing – imaging in tiny detail the entire course of the relationship… until suddenly I realized that there’s nothing left to actually, like, happen. I’ve done it all, lived through the whole relationship in my head. I’ve watched the film on fast-forward; I know the whole plot, the ending, all the good bit. Now I’ve got to rewind and watch it all over again in real time, and where’s fun in that?

… I suddenly saw it was the opposite: that if you got married to the someone you know you love, and you sort yourself out, it frees you up for other things.