soooo not much’s happened these weeks. except my sleeping patterns are damaged because of (first) iran twitter and (then) my former students (forever 10B to me) are having their bac exam right now. so i’m trying to chat with them while i stay up til 3-4 a.m, (with a break at 1 for walking the dog) refreshing the ontd_ai page (not even funny anymore!) and trying to read raymond carver. i’m afraid under the circumstances mr. carver is the most neglected party here. no: i – my own life and what it should be – is the most neglected party; nevermind, moving on.
what prompted me to start this was, i just remembered who else i used to be a fangirl of: weirdly, dolores o’riordan of ‘cranberries’ (at 14-15 or so), then for a short while liam gallagher of ‘oasis’ (which figures, i guess). mmmm…a short janis joplin stage (incoherent/ i had no info: can you imagine these things developing with no internet? i’ve lost any ability to) and then probably nothing until leonard cohen. i mean musically – there were some writers duh, there were some irl things. i’m just stuck on the idea that sometime around 16 i lost something or took a skewed turn and that i have to try to repair that, lest i have to repeat it forever. i would totally go and reread my diaries, except they’re in bistrita.
most memorable night, which will definitely come back in some future stories (and i mean i kind of hate the thought, but we all know it will happen, so): it was (last week) tony wilson’s birthday and they had a sortofaconcert down at 1067 granville. of course i went and did the door and then sold beer and whatever else there was 🙂 and ended up clearing the area at the afterparty while everyone was having cake and whisky (i’m such a server. well i wasn’t gonna have whisky though, right?). try to imagine me sitting at the door pre-singing, collecting money from people while reading „lullabies for little criminals” by heather o’neill (who i’ve decided i hate: i can’t be a proper fangirl in literature, with the exception possibly of dead dudes. it’s sooo wrong, i know.) so i’m there all up in blue nailpolish and eyeliner and glitter cleavage, not that anyone saw or cared, sipping red wine from a plastic glass, speaking with a ‘charming’ frenchy accent and reading a book with ‘criminals’ in the title – what more of an introduction into an underground jazz scene d’you want? seriously. and people have this way of reacting to someone READ: „so, is the book any good?” – duh no i’m just reading it because i’m so bored with life. i mean, how do you respond to that?? the most honest thing i discovered i could say was „i was recommended to read it because it’s set in montreal.” – „ah- so, is montreal home?” – „no, but i hope it will be.” so this is my deviated report from tony’s concert.
crushes on singers, continued. oooo, courtney love. in university – leonard cohen, jeff buckley. tom waits? (what the hell was i doing back then??) bob dylan. i can’t remember much more. pj harvey. nothing major. i promise to think harder. but you know what? here’s me pimping alisan porter, before i change my mind: