does marketing fund terrorism?

I ran across this article in the "all M.I.A." issue of the Minneapolis City Pages and found it so compelling and appropriate; it's a must-read.

i know, i know...

I haven't posted in a while, mostly because I've been really sick, and for that, I'm sorry.

I didn't even find this article on The Bravery getting bitchslapped by their hometown mag with about as much ahead-of-the-curve credibility as my shoe, on my own.

For that, we have lstiz to thank!

they paint a thousand words

Holy Shit this band is awesome.

You can stream three of their most excellent tracks here.

Mark my words, Every Move a Picture will come out of Southby with huge buzz.

i liked the like long before they liked the like

Rolling Stone has named The Like one of their 10 bands to watch in '05. Good for them.

Balick has wanted to hit on them since last summer and Pique and I loved their Knitting Factory show last September.

So there.

she don't surrender

Apparently, Bloggers really like M.I.A.

I would call myself more of an online diarist, but as you know, I heart her, so click here to read a Q & A with the one and only M.I.A.

(Footnote: Balick...where's my copy of Arular? On the way indeed.)

Ever heard of the energizer bunny?

I literally haven't stopped since Thursday. I am so exhausted, I seem to be fighting a losing battle with my eyelids, and I don't know what trick they're going to pull on me next.

On Thursday evening, I headed uptown to mid-mid-town to join the girls for a happy hour our friend won when she dropped her business card in a bar. We had some bar food, half-priced drinks and chatted for a bit, before I departed to meet Jeffrey at ICP for the Larry Clark Retrospective opening that (as any art opening does) had cheap wine, pretentious conversations about art and young, hot, gay art stars. I spotted Michael Pitt, who looked a lot less greasy than I expected and also ran into an ex-boyfriend who may or may not be completely sane. While I was originally not a fan of Larry Clark, I sort of question his enduring voyeurism into the lives and sexuality of adolescents, specifically young boys, I really enjoyed the body of work overall and have both a newfound respect for him and free art book to remember the evening by. It was also interesting to see the casting notes from Kids and remember how much of an impact that movie actually had on my life (I'll spare you the details.)

After the opening, I met Alex and Dan in the EV and we headed out for a very, very late dinner. We only made it as far as Lucien, which was fine by me, and had a wonderful meal and (at least on my end) drunken conversation. Two VTs, a few glasses of wine and another few vodkas later, I was spent and after stopping by my apartment, they headed home and I literally fell into bed.

Friday, after barely surviving the nine-to-five, we met up at Euzkadi where we enjoyed and amazing tapas dinner and some fruity sangria. We met up with Lola and Pique on 2nd Ave and headed to Crash Mansion to see Clap Your Hands and another few bands we totally ignored. Let me just ask one question about Friday night...Who's idea was it to eschew mixed drinks and down *only* shots, chasing them with $2 PBRs? I mean, what kind of degenerate spends their evening taking round after round of shots??? Oh, yeah, that would be me.

At 2 AM CYHSY *finally* took the stage just as the toll of what had to have been 10 rounds of vodka took its toll on me. I would like to issue an open apology to the band as we stood up front snapping pics of each other and them (which if my camera were working, I would post here), yelling, screaming, dancing and generally being entirely inappropriate and obnoxious. I don't think I'll ever make it to another CYHSY show, and if I do, I'll have to go in disguise.

Only god knows why when the snow started to fall outside, we left Crash Mansion and headed for 2A. Did we *really* need to have another three rounds? I doubt it. I don't quite remember what was said, or how many shots were done. But at 4AM, as Pique departed, yelling at her companion for being a party pooper, we all went our separate ways. I got a drunken, misspelled text from Lola, assuring me she arrived home safely, just as I fell flat on my ass (by myself, I might add) somewhere between 2A and my apartment. Pique said the highlight of the evening was when Lola and I greeted her in the crash mansion bathroom wearing the exact same color tee shirts, but I contend my favorite part was when Lo and I snuck into an adjoining stall and peeked over the top to find our two girls being the mischievous women we know and love.

I'm not going to lie. I won't mince words: Saturday was painful.

Other than ordering a bacon, egg and cheese and fries from the diner across the street and obsessively doing laundry in anticipation of my familial visitors, I sat on my couch, cursing Bacchus for leading me into endless temptation. I left to meet my mom and sister at Penn Station and took them home to my place before we went to Schiller's for an early dinner. We were home by ten, just in time for me to regroup and meet "the young kids" for more drinks around the nabe. Pretty standard, except that it was my last night with Alex and Dan, so we chatted, relaxed and strongly monitored the alk intake.

I'm not really sure if I even woke up on Sunday. I mean, I know I got out of bed, showered and got dressed, but I'm not positive I was fully conscious. The moms and the sis took my roommate and I out to brunch and although we arrived at Clinton Street Baking Co. early enough, we still waited an hour and a half for a table. You might ask why in god's name anyone would ever wait that long for brunch, and if you did, clearly, you've never eaten at the aforementioned spot. It was heaven, our brunch, and my sister quickly pronounced it the best breakfast she's ever had. Since she's never been to the big apple, I considered that a pretty damn good compliment.

Anyone who knows me well, knows I have an intense proclivity for shopping, and by proclivity, I mean obsession. After spending a weekend with my mom and sister, I know know that, like many addictions, this one is genetic. We spent most of Sunday roaming downtown and topped it off with an excellent meal at my favorite nyc restaurant, Blue Ribbon Bakery. We arrived home and mom and I watched Before Sunset which I totally loved, even better than Before Sunrise, in fact.

I won't bore you with the details of my Monday, which included catching up on work and editing email communications, but last night the girls joined my mom, sis and I for a wonderful dinner at Lucien. I love it when Mom comes to town and sweeps me off my feet with a culinary smorgasbord at varied downtown restaurants. There's really nothing like it.

You can say it, it's okay...I'm a spoiled brat.

please send me to montreal...

...unless it's colder than it is here. In that case, send me in a couple of months.

Pitchfork don't waste any time. Click here for a profile on Owen Pallett and his solo project Final Fantasy.

this is the dream of win and regine

I am not the first person to write about this video, and more obviously, about this band, but I certainly won't be the last. The Arcade Fire's newest video for my favorite song "Rebellion (Lies)" is now available on MTV.com for your viewing pleasure.

And let me just say, I totally adore what I could see of this creation. (My work computer monitor isn't great and I watched it while eating my decidely boring lunch.) Of course, MTV had to screw it up by posting some ridiculous summary about it, but nonetheless, this is a beautifully ethereal representation of the song with Win as a pied piper and Regine as a spritely wood nymph.

This is exactly what I would have thought a video for an Arcade Fire song would look like. I can't wait to see it again and again and again.

Update: Balick directed me to this article in Rolling Stone on Arcade. All I have to say is, if that's really the way Win and Regine are, they are a) my favorite couple in music and b) something every married couple could aspire to.

dear sons and daughters of hungry ghosts

YAY! I just received my very own copy of Wolf Parade's self-titled six song EP. And, oh, how I wish there were more than just six for me to enjoy. Alas, I'll have to wait until they finally put put a full length on Sub-Pop.

I'm all for sharing the wealth, so click here to download "Grounds For Divorce."

an honest mistake?

Thanks, Laur, for sending us this little gem that proves for some rockstars, fame doesn't automatically equal an immediate obsession with supermodels. Sadly, I think it means The Bravery's loyal hometown fans have been eclipsed.

More commentary on the relaxing and fun-filled weekend later (a few tidbits include: a bad movie, gallery hopping with John Waters and Meryl Streep-ok not with exactly, fantasy baseball drafts and a tasty dessert outing), right now, I am working...not carrying on myriad gmail conversations, I swear.

intercontinental psychoanalysis

It's truly amazing what a good chat with a best friend or a night out with the girls can do for you when you're feeling confused. Last night, I was lucky enough to have had both.

As I waited pateintly at home for my Internet-ordered groceries, I got a call from BerlinLaura who stayed up until 1AM to respond to a rather confused and unsettled e-mail. Seriously, who else but a girl who's known you for 15 years would do somethig like that? But I digress.

Anyway, we proceeded to dissect my the depth and breadth of my confusion, my thoughts, my emotions. My internal monologue of self-doubt, fear and guilt became an external one and ever patiently, Laura listened and said all the things that made evrything right in the world, at least for the duration of our call. I felt like I was in a flavored coffee commercial, except that since I couldn't stop talking, the coffee would have been flavored with speed.

Then all the girls came over for a couple of drinks (or in Pique's case, a couple of shots) before we headed out to the Tsunami benefit with Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, The Natural History and The Fever at Crash Mansion. We arrived just in time to hear three songs from CYHSY (one of them my favorite) before they left the stage. If I weren't seeing them at the same venue next week with Alex and Dan, I would have been pretty bummed. After their performance a few weeks back at Sin-e, I was looking forward to hearing them again, especially in the hopes that with more gigs, their stage presence would have improved. I really want this to be true, so I'll just type it out and it'll be so: CYHSY's live performance improves with each show they play.

After sitting at the bar and catching up with an old friend, we made our way up to the front to see The Natural History. Damn, those boys are hot. I mean, seriously. They played a good set, but it was sort of like watching Brad Pitt act in a movie. No matter how good a job he does, he's still Brad Pitt, he'll always be hot, and you won't be able to focus on his um, "craft."

We left during The Fever's set and the 5th Street crew went uptown as Becca jumped in a cab and the Lo's hopped on over to Happy Endings for the Interpol afterparty. I got home in time to gulp down a bagel and a bottle of water, thus warding off any possible hangover, and went to bed.

So, after my friends so bravely endured my ranting and raving, and thus improved my overall emotional disposition, (oh, yeah, thanks for that, girls!) I leave you with this little nonsensical gem:

I have eaten 3 bagels in 15 hours. They all tasted different.