There's been nothing going on in the blog for awhile. I actually have to spend some of my blogging time jotting down witticisms for work, which isn't really the favorite part about my job, because it's writing about things I don't give much of a shit about - fashion, style and the latest trends of shoes. Which isn't to say I don't love my job - I do. But I would never be confused with someone who spends their free time reading Vogue.
All that aside, there really just hasn't been a lot of time to blog, because life has just been too wonderful. I'm too busy having a fantastic time to be sitting around writing about it (which, I think can be considered a perfect microcosm for blogging in general: if you're spending all your time in front of a computer jotting commentary or navel-gazing - and you're not getting paid for it, there's some serious re-examination needed in your life).
That said, last night I attended another amazing concert with L. Our fourth in the last two months, from Death Cab for Cutie to Tears for Fears to a side-splitting show by Patton Oswalt and Louis C.K. that left my stomach hurting for the next day from laughter. We have U2 coming up in October.
This one was a longtime favorite: Hall & Oates. Playing at the gorgeous, though acoustically-challenged Nokia Live in downtown LA. This is probably my sixth or seventh show of theirs over the years, a fact that I long ago stopped apologizing for, but Daryl was in amazing vocal/performance form, while John still looks a little too swarthy and gruff without the 'ol stash.
L couldn't give two craps about H&O, but she's an astounding sport about pretty much everything, and she's a huge music lover, so she was delighted to go. But not only did she find it entertaining and fun from the nostalgia/semi-kitsch factor, she genuinely loved the show, and discovered perhaps for the first time what a captivating, amazing performer Daryl Hall is (which, for people who have stuck with H&O all these years, is a primary motivator). She also has an "out" to have sex with him, given the opportunity. He is a sexy, sexy man. John Oates... not so much.
And she pointed out that "No Can Do (I Can't Go For That)" was probably written about anal sex. A very interesting observation. Judge for yourself.
We'll see if there's more time for scribbling in the coming month. But if I keep having such a remarkable time every day... well, don't blame me.
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2 comments:
The end credits of "Synecdoche, New York" are playing on my computer right now; and I looked up the song featured in the end credits only to find your blog at the top of google's queue for that search. Synecdoche-ily, I like the juxtaposition of your blunted and disaster-riddled Synecdoche post and this final, mostly happy, most recent post.
I'm amazed that you found this post from that one... I don't promote my blog at all, etc, as you can tell. But I deeply appreciate your well-placed observation... you've pretty much summarized my entire year of blogging in one sentence.
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