Music: Incubus - Nice to Know You - Alive at Red Rocks
Mood: Hungry
I want to go! Look at the lineup for the two days:
Saturday, April 29:
Mood: Hungry
I want to go! Look at the lineup for the two days:
Saturday, April 29:
Depeche Mode, Franz Ferdinand, Sigur Ros, Common, Damian Marley, Atmosphere, Carl Cox, My Morning Jacket, Ladytron , Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Tosca, Cat Power, Animal Collective, Hard-Fi, Derrick Carter, Devendra Banhart, She Wants Revenge, The Walkmen, The Juan Maclean, Audio Bullys, Imogen Heap, Lady Sovereign, Deerhoof, The Duke Spirit, Editors, stellastarr*, Lyrics Born, Matt Costa, The New Amsterdams, The Zutons, Platinum Pied Pipers, White Rose Movement, Chris Liberator, Colette, Joey Beltram, Hybrid, Wolfmother, The Like, Living Things, Nine Black Alps, The Section Quartet, Infadels, Youth Group, Shy FX & T Power, Infusion
Sunday, April 30:
Tool, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Bloc Party, Paul Oakenfold, Scissor Sisters, Matisyahu, James Blunt, TV on the Radio, Sleater-Kinney , Mogwai, Coheed and Cambria, Gnarls Barkley, Coldcut, Phoenix, Digable Planets, Amadou & Mariam, Little Louie Vega, Mylo (DJ Set), Seu Jorge, Wolf Parade, The Go! Team, Kaskade, Metric, Art Brut, Dungen, The Dears, Jamie Lidell, The Magic Numbers, Los Amigos Invisibles, Jazzanova, Michael Mayer, Mates of State, Gilles Peterson, Gabriel & Dresden, The Subways, Minus the Bear, Be Your Own Pet, Giant Drag, Kristina Sky, The Octopus Project
--
Sadly, no Smashing Pumpkins reunion or Foo Fighters. But Saturdaylooks to be the best night, although Tool will probably rock hard after so many years in the shadows.
Music: Sigur Ros - Vaka - ( )
Mood: Famished
Haven't posted in a few days, just wanted to say hello to the wide world of seven readers. Hello. I spent the weekend (almost) finishing my applications, playing the guitar, eating an array of foods, and watching 24. All I want to do is mail those suckers and pray I get in. It would validate so much of what's transipring in my life to get accepted to my top choice.
Listen to ( ), it will do a number on your perception of good music. That is all for today.
Mood: Famished
Haven't posted in a few days, just wanted to say hello to the wide world of seven readers. Hello. I spent the weekend (almost) finishing my applications, playing the guitar, eating an array of foods, and watching 24. All I want to do is mail those suckers and pray I get in. It would validate so much of what's transipring in my life to get accepted to my top choice.
Listen to ( ), it will do a number on your perception of good music. That is all for today.
When A Good Thing Dies, You Just Know.
1 Comments Published by Devin on Monday, January 23, 2006 at 12:07 AM.
Music: A Perfect Circle - The Hollow - Mer De Noms
Mood: Je Suis Desolee
A few quick things. First, check out moviehoppers.com. My brother, Kunal Anand, and his good friend, Ken Roy, started this badboy to bring insatiable movie reviews and animated shorts to the masses. The site launched a few days ago, and is worth a look. Please, do check it out, and tell all your friends about moviehoppers.
My personal statement is on the cusp of completion and I can't wait to button its remains into a final word document. I will be so relieved when this process is done. I hope, fingers crossed, that by the end of the week I can mail all my applications out. But then its the anticipation of waiting for the responses.
Also, I need to find a new muse. My old one doesn't love me anymore. But that's to be expected I guess. Time tends to make buffoons of us all.
The wind sounds as if someone is making vain attempts at prying my door open. I need sleep.
Peace and Love.
D
Mood: Je Suis Desolee
A few quick things. First, check out moviehoppers.com. My brother, Kunal Anand, and his good friend, Ken Roy, started this badboy to bring insatiable movie reviews and animated shorts to the masses. The site launched a few days ago, and is worth a look. Please, do check it out, and tell all your friends about moviehoppers.
My personal statement is on the cusp of completion and I can't wait to button its remains into a final word document. I will be so relieved when this process is done. I hope, fingers crossed, that by the end of the week I can mail all my applications out. But then its the anticipation of waiting for the responses.
Also, I need to find a new muse. My old one doesn't love me anymore. But that's to be expected I guess. Time tends to make buffoons of us all.
The wind sounds as if someone is making vain attempts at prying my door open. I need sleep.
Peace and Love.
D
I'm Doing Cartwheels In Bed
2 Comments Published by Devin on Thursday, January 19, 2006 at 12:13 AM.
Music: Ben Gibbard - You Remind Me of Home - Home Vol. 4
Mood: Nostalgic
Tonight the drive home was different. I still rolled down the window to let the wind dance through my hair. I drove down the same familiar streets with Death Cab stuck in my head. And like every trip home, the quenching night air persuaded me to find a place to stand perched, overlooking the city. But tonight this place felt slightly distant; like looking down from a plane before landing. I couldn’t help but ask myself, was I a stranger or was I home? It is one of those thing that you don’t see until its done because every time the change was too small notice. Each time the unfamiliarity inched on, persistent and taking advantage of the wind that blew me north. Now so many of my connections with this place only stand as memories. Picture frames left on their front porches with a note that says “Free – moving sale.”
Mood: Nostalgic
Tonight the drive home was different. I still rolled down the window to let the wind dance through my hair. I drove down the same familiar streets with Death Cab stuck in my head. And like every trip home, the quenching night air persuaded me to find a place to stand perched, overlooking the city. But tonight this place felt slightly distant; like looking down from a plane before landing. I couldn’t help but ask myself, was I a stranger or was I home? It is one of those thing that you don’t see until its done because every time the change was too small notice. Each time the unfamiliarity inched on, persistent and taking advantage of the wind that blew me north. Now so many of my connections with this place only stand as memories. Picture frames left on their front porches with a note that says “Free – moving sale.”
Music: The Beatles - Julia - The White Album
Mood: Sleepy
And they'd sit in the trees and they'd talk thru the night,
While the blind moon swam in the pale starry light;
And they talked and they crowed and they told what they knew,
It was better than words, it was all strange and new;
There was grass all around, there was black up above,
It was more than hello, it was something like love.
And I don't know why life, it seems to be,
So hard for dreamers like you and me,
When love is, love is, love is everywhere.
Mood: Sleepy
And they'd sit in the trees and they'd talk thru the night,
While the blind moon swam in the pale starry light;
And they talked and they crowed and they told what they knew,
It was better than words, it was all strange and new;
There was grass all around, there was black up above,
It was more than hello, it was something like love.
And I don't know why life, it seems to be,
So hard for dreamers like you and me,
When love is, love is, love is everywhere.
Music: Rogue Wave - California - Descended Like Vultures
Mood: Pessimistic
In the span of 10 minutes, my room went from a warm shade of orange to a murky pale grey tone that suggests the rain rumors will become a reality this weekend. I'm not particularly bothered by rain; I think it lends to different varieties of creativity, and, strangely, I tend to write better songs when the weather is poor. I don't know why this is so, but it just seems to be a trend in output. Who knows, perhaps I'll write a new song this weekend.
Everytime I watch a Spike Lee movie on HBO, I get nervous. That probably happens to a lot of white people, and I suppose that's sort of the idea. But my reason for getting nervous has nothing to do with the sociocultural ideals that Spike expresses, nor does it have anything to do with fear that a race riot is going to break out in my living room, nor is it any kind of artistic apprehension. My fear is that I know there's a 50 percent chance a particular situation is going to occur on the screen, and the situation is this: A black guy and a white guy are going to get into an argument over basketball, and the debate will focus on the fact that the black guy loves the Lakers and the white guy loves the Celtics. And this argument is going to be a metaphor for all of America, and its fundamental point will be that we're all unconsciously racist, because any white guy who thought Larry Bird was the messiah is latently denying that Jesus was black. The relative blackness and whiteness of the Los Angeles Lakers and the Boston Celtics (circa 1980-1989) is supposed to symbolize everything we ever needed to know about America's racial cold war, and everyone who takes sports seriously seems to concede that fact.
Mood: Pessimistic
In the span of 10 minutes, my room went from a warm shade of orange to a murky pale grey tone that suggests the rain rumors will become a reality this weekend. I'm not particularly bothered by rain; I think it lends to different varieties of creativity, and, strangely, I tend to write better songs when the weather is poor. I don't know why this is so, but it just seems to be a trend in output. Who knows, perhaps I'll write a new song this weekend.
Everytime I watch a Spike Lee movie on HBO, I get nervous. That probably happens to a lot of white people, and I suppose that's sort of the idea. But my reason for getting nervous has nothing to do with the sociocultural ideals that Spike expresses, nor does it have anything to do with fear that a race riot is going to break out in my living room, nor is it any kind of artistic apprehension. My fear is that I know there's a 50 percent chance a particular situation is going to occur on the screen, and the situation is this: A black guy and a white guy are going to get into an argument over basketball, and the debate will focus on the fact that the black guy loves the Lakers and the white guy loves the Celtics. And this argument is going to be a metaphor for all of America, and its fundamental point will be that we're all unconsciously racist, because any white guy who thought Larry Bird was the messiah is latently denying that Jesus was black. The relative blackness and whiteness of the Los Angeles Lakers and the Boston Celtics (circa 1980-1989) is supposed to symbolize everything we ever needed to know about America's racial cold war, and everyone who takes sports seriously seems to concede that fact.
Music: Interpol - Obstacle 1 - Turn on the Bright Lights
Mood: Banter-y
So, its been a while since I gave any real thought to the topic of blogging, and for that I apologize. It seems that 2006 has been busier than I had initially anticipated. But, I'm not here to complain; instead, I am here to take you all down memory lane...
Remember Slap-Bracelets? Those horrible metal bracelet-band things that we were inspired to purchase by the dozen thanks to very appealing marketing campaigns. Well, it made sense to have them if you were a girl, because, generally speaking, 7 and 8 year old girls are the height of superficial indulgers, and, interestingly enough, most companies 'unofficial' target market (more on that later)...SLAP BRACELETS, as they were invented were supposed to be these hip and trendy things that we as kids (and adults) would wear and share with our buddies. Now, I won't lie. I had a few of those suckers and I wore mine with serious pride. I don't think there was anyone that I knew who was ashamed of the Slap Bracelet, or wearing 10 of them on their arms at a time. It became quite the vogue statement of freedom and coolness on the playground to stick as many on your arms at one time and try to play basketball without any of them falling off.
But here's the thing: If you're not familiar with these things, then you'll excuse me while I go off on what will, I am certain, quickly become a tirade on the foolishness of the Slap Bracelet, but alas, I need to do this. I am entitled to some leverage in my argument. BUT, before I go any further, I want to acknowledge, to those of you out there that actually still collect, care, and dream of the revival that would be the Slap Bracelet Revolution, I am not attacking you or your character as a person. I am merely making a social comment on the status of our society circa 1992. Ok, disclaimers aside, here goes:
The Slap Bracelet was effective in training young heroin addicts. Yes. I just drew the most outlandish parallel in the sand, but I won't back down from it. Slap Bracelets were basically a toy that you would peel off of you arms and put back on in a slapping motion that very much resembles the technique heroin addicts use to identify veins in their arms before 'shooting-up' or whatever the colloquial term that junkies are using these days, I'm not sure about that. BUT, the bracelets were sheepishly marketed to kids as toys and accessories which were 'fun' and all that other exciting nonsense. And people would never in a million years have constrewed that toy then as something which could be so malicious in the long-term. And perhaps that argument is valid today, as I am sure most people think that I am on heroin for making such a claim.
But don't act for one second that you wouldn't dare make a connection between heroin and Slap Bracelets, as though you're better than the thought. That's complete crap and everyone knows it. Human beings love to indulge in fantasy, no matter how twisted and misdirected said fantasy may be. The fact of the matter is, we all do it, yet won't admit it. So is it really debased for me to suggest that the good folks at Mattell were aiming to cultivate a generation of junkies from 7 and 8 year old girls? Is that overstepping the boundaries of conversation? My apologies, if so. But you and I both know that I didn't say anything that you mind hasn't already granted you access to.
Ok, back to the bracelets. Hey, I'm not a mean guy, and I know I come off as a raving hater. But my core is pure with intentions of nothing but pure sardonic wit. So, my affliction with Slap Bracelets is, in a rare lapse of honesty, nothing but for the purpose of having something trivial to rant about. That's really it. I think if they made a comeback, I would be one of the style-free uber-hungry-to-fit-in guys that buys a limited edition leather one and makes sure to wear it in the summer while my wrist sweats under the oppressive heat of the Kenneth Cole limited edition bracelet my girlfriend thinks makes me look sexy.
But this, this is nothing short of a completley contrived example of how society, and people, including myself, will do almost anything to make a blog post.
Mood: Banter-y
So, its been a while since I gave any real thought to the topic of blogging, and for that I apologize. It seems that 2006 has been busier than I had initially anticipated. But, I'm not here to complain; instead, I am here to take you all down memory lane...
Remember Slap-Bracelets? Those horrible metal bracelet-band things that we were inspired to purchase by the dozen thanks to very appealing marketing campaigns. Well, it made sense to have them if you were a girl, because, generally speaking, 7 and 8 year old girls are the height of superficial indulgers, and, interestingly enough, most companies 'unofficial' target market (more on that later)...SLAP BRACELETS, as they were invented were supposed to be these hip and trendy things that we as kids (and adults) would wear and share with our buddies. Now, I won't lie. I had a few of those suckers and I wore mine with serious pride. I don't think there was anyone that I knew who was ashamed of the Slap Bracelet, or wearing 10 of them on their arms at a time. It became quite the vogue statement of freedom and coolness on the playground to stick as many on your arms at one time and try to play basketball without any of them falling off.
But here's the thing: If you're not familiar with these things, then you'll excuse me while I go off on what will, I am certain, quickly become a tirade on the foolishness of the Slap Bracelet, but alas, I need to do this. I am entitled to some leverage in my argument. BUT, before I go any further, I want to acknowledge, to those of you out there that actually still collect, care, and dream of the revival that would be the Slap Bracelet Revolution, I am not attacking you or your character as a person. I am merely making a social comment on the status of our society circa 1992. Ok, disclaimers aside, here goes:
The Slap Bracelet was effective in training young heroin addicts. Yes. I just drew the most outlandish parallel in the sand, but I won't back down from it. Slap Bracelets were basically a toy that you would peel off of you arms and put back on in a slapping motion that very much resembles the technique heroin addicts use to identify veins in their arms before 'shooting-up' or whatever the colloquial term that junkies are using these days, I'm not sure about that. BUT, the bracelets were sheepishly marketed to kids as toys and accessories which were 'fun' and all that other exciting nonsense. And people would never in a million years have constrewed that toy then as something which could be so malicious in the long-term. And perhaps that argument is valid today, as I am sure most people think that I am on heroin for making such a claim.
But don't act for one second that you wouldn't dare make a connection between heroin and Slap Bracelets, as though you're better than the thought. That's complete crap and everyone knows it. Human beings love to indulge in fantasy, no matter how twisted and misdirected said fantasy may be. The fact of the matter is, we all do it, yet won't admit it. So is it really debased for me to suggest that the good folks at Mattell were aiming to cultivate a generation of junkies from 7 and 8 year old girls? Is that overstepping the boundaries of conversation? My apologies, if so. But you and I both know that I didn't say anything that you mind hasn't already granted you access to.
Ok, back to the bracelets. Hey, I'm not a mean guy, and I know I come off as a raving hater. But my core is pure with intentions of nothing but pure sardonic wit. So, my affliction with Slap Bracelets is, in a rare lapse of honesty, nothing but for the purpose of having something trivial to rant about. That's really it. I think if they made a comeback, I would be one of the style-free uber-hungry-to-fit-in guys that buys a limited edition leather one and makes sure to wear it in the summer while my wrist sweats under the oppressive heat of the Kenneth Cole limited edition bracelet my girlfriend thinks makes me look sexy.
But this, this is nothing short of a completley contrived example of how society, and people, including myself, will do almost anything to make a blog post.
Music: Beatles - Don't Let Me Down - Blue Box
Mood: Mellow
New layout for '06. The old one was good, but I needed a change, hence, what you're seeing.
I'm starting the application process officially today, which means that after months of slacking, I need to get in gear and write some pretty solid essays.
More later.
Mood: Mellow
New layout for '06. The old one was good, but I needed a change, hence, what you're seeing.
I'm starting the application process officially today, which means that after months of slacking, I need to get in gear and write some pretty solid essays.
More later.
Music: Foo Fighters - Skin and Bones - Five Songs and a Cover
Mood: So Sick...
Well, I'm home after what was arguably the best vacation I've had in recent memory. Sadly, I caught some sort of flu/fever thing and have bed ridden for the past 48 hours.
I'd write more, but I feel rather lazy, so I'm just going to throw in the towel.
Mood: So Sick...
Well, I'm home after what was arguably the best vacation I've had in recent memory. Sadly, I caught some sort of flu/fever thing and have bed ridden for the past 48 hours.
I'd write more, but I feel rather lazy, so I'm just going to throw in the towel.
Music: Death Cab For Cutie - The New Year
Mood: Packed
So, this is a sorted collection of snaps from New Year's. As you will be able to see, there were far too many people, but everyone did have a glorious time. Without much ado,
There was a tube-strike in effect that night, but one of the few lines running was the Central line, and just what we needed to get to our venue
Neha laughs at one of my bad jokes, while Deepak eyes the tube map...
Lance describing how he pimp-slapped some skeez on the mean streets of Holburn.
One staircase, 4,000 people, 4 floors...not a good mix.
Avi snapping a pic of Lance's crazed dance moves.
Madness..
Avi and Yuva busting moves in the disco department.
A better view of the bottom of the 'stairway to heaven' or hell, depending on how you look at it.
I was under the impression that Lance wasn't drinking. Serves me right for trusting a Liverpool fan.
Clearly exhausted, circa 3:00 AM
Quite a good photo of the evening...
---
To recap, we went to this place called Connaught Rooms, which is a four-story building that is used for parties and such. They had different genres of music playing in every room, and enough booze to keep London's finest on their toes.
Lance got a picture of the Scots in kilts that felt compelled to hug us all. He also, allegedly, has pictures of the girls that lined up for kisses with us at midnight. They were quite cute; drunk, but cute. But it's all heresey if Lance is involved. Dodgy bugger. :)
Mood: Packed
So, this is a sorted collection of snaps from New Year's. As you will be able to see, there were far too many people, but everyone did have a glorious time. Without much ado,
There was a tube-strike in effect that night, but one of the few lines running was the Central line, and just what we needed to get to our venueNeha laughs at one of my bad jokes, while Deepak eyes the tube map...Lance describing how he pimp-slapped some skeez on the mean streets of Holburn.One staircase, 4,000 people, 4 floors...not a good mix.Avi snapping a pic of Lance's crazed dance moves.Madness..Avi and Yuva busting moves in the disco department.A better view of the bottom of the 'stairway to heaven' or hell, depending on how you look at it.I was under the impression that Lance wasn't drinking. Serves me right for trusting a Liverpool fan.Clearly exhausted, circa 3:00 AMQuite a good photo of the evening...---
To recap, we went to this place called Connaught Rooms, which is a four-story building that is used for parties and such. They had different genres of music playing in every room, and enough booze to keep London's finest on their toes.
Lance got a picture of the Scots in kilts that felt compelled to hug us all. He also, allegedly, has pictures of the girls that lined up for kisses with us at midnight. They were quite cute; drunk, but cute. But it's all heresey if Lance is involved. Dodgy bugger. :)
