I fight constantly the impression that, as far as music is concerned, pretty much has been said and done. I recognise too often in songs played on the radio musical phrases that are reused (not to say stolen) in more pathetic ways than one.
I embrace the novelty in this respect, but at the same time I am wary of new kids trying to make it big in the evil, huge world. Their rage and hunger to be heard is nothing new after all. It's all just history repeating.
I need time to break my barriers and give in to the new. The good new.
Holding out makes only for a better reward.
I went to get hubs a CD he wanted but could not make up his mind when he saw it. He is very excited to have discovered some new bands and to have some older bands release new albums (which are not completely crappy).
Being there, quite early in the morning, not too many people around to get on my nerves, I set to track new bands I meant to listen to 'sometime'.
I left not with one, but with no less than six CD-s.
I am determined to go back for more Mando Diao albums, I only got two of them, apparently the best of them, and I can't believe I let myself be blind to their music because I did not like their name. I still don't, can't exactly put my finger on it why, but their music totally makes up for the silly name. It's been so long since I found an album that I liked from the first to the last track! Give Me Fire is that kind of album.
Next find is King of Leons. I have to admit I only set out to listen to their samples because I think their Sex on Fire is one of the most brilliantly haunting songs I have heard in a while. I am not all that won over by their other works, I keep considering it as a work up to this song, which obviously deserves all the hype it's got so far. But I am willing to give them their time and work their magic on me.
And finally I gave in and got The Killers' Hot Fuss.
It's good to know that there is still something to be said which is worth listening to. And I just love books and music that give me that very selfish feeling that I am the sole intended audience the author/s had in mind, that make me feel that they were written just for me, and that I am the only one who can really truly appreciate that particular piece of work as it really should.
On another line of thinking - blogger and its features amount to a handsome pile of utter rubbish! Wish there were really some other options out there. But sadly, there are not. They are all pretty much the same. Whatev'...
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
The day after the weekend
I still have one more day to prepare my speech for the Jehovah's witnesses ladies.
But what I wanted to write about today is still related to religion.
Long story short - I came to be owner of a very large icon which sadly has no place in my home. I thought of going to the church and giving it away to someone who might appreciate it better. Which I did. I got sidetracked (as I usually do) and instead of giving it to an older and rather poorer lady, the icon ended up in the hands of a horrendous lady whose daughter is both a dentist and a princess (I kid you not, I have her business card, which reads First Name - PRINZESSIN - Last Name, the last name having a posh sound about it), and she wanted to thank me by getting me to be her dentist daughter's client. I managed to dodge that one quite swiftly (that is only because I was completely unaware of her intention), but when she asked for my phone number, I could find no reason to refuse her. So I gave it to her.
As you may suspect, the hag called me. She interrogated me for some ten minutes.
Here I must explain something to you: I am getting more and more like my grannie every day. If you ask my grandmother a question, she feels compelled to provide you with practically every little detail she can think of related to the subject matter. For example, the phone rings and someone asks to talk to my dad. Instead of saying simply 'He is not at home', my gran starts giving full details about his daily routine, his job, his office, the car he drives and when he actually left that morning, blah, blah. You get the picture. I used to get pissed when she would give me away on certain occasions, but mostly I was very amused by this habit of hers. Now, I find myself being more and more like her! Count on me to share most unusal and often inappropriate details, the difference between me and gran being only that I have to be asked for such details, I (for the moment) do not offer them unprompted for.
So, coming back to the hag. She first mistook me for my mother, because I only said 'Alo?' - it is what is most often said in Romania and I consider it quite appropriate to continue to do so. Obviously, since I said 'alo', I had to be my mother. Then she proceeded to ask me about the icon, not without first telling me the current whereabouts of said icon, if you must know it is located in the 'children's room', she had three grandsons and they come sometimes and sleep over and there it where the icon hangs now. So, what she wanted to know was a) when it was given the holy rite by the priest (says so on the back); b) where (still on the back, really, just take a look); c) how long have I had it for (sorry, WHA'??).
Then she wanted to know (stream of conscience following) how long have we been here in Germany, have we been to the church before, 'cause the priest there does not know us, she asked him if he gave the holy rites to the icon, he said no (I wonder if it was before asking him if he knew us...), he gave such rites to some icons before, but those were sold for the benefit of an orphans' shelter in Romania, don't we go to church (you might think we met at the pub), that was her first time she went to the church after two months spent back in Romania (I SO wanted to know that, it was vital for my well being), where did we come from, do I have a job, why not, what is my profession, don't I want to get a job (she was not interested in offering me tips to get a job, no, she was just curious to know if I like being a lousy Hausfrau or if I intend to finally work for a living)... And THIS is where I finally caught a brake and said good bye.
Typical old nosey parker behaviour!
I resisted bravely to giving away to many details and I am very impressed by myself. It was also helpful to have some ten little bells ringing viciously in my head at each of her questions and I think it has something to do with her, she was the one who got the bells ringing, she is the busybody pushing all buttons at once.
But this got me thinking - why, oh, why do older ladies have such an effect on me? I feel like a 6 year old all over again! They inspire me the same disgruntled respect and need to tell the truth when asked, but only when I think it is what they want to hear. Sheesh...
Aaanywho. The shops started hanging Christmas decorations two weeks ago. We had the first snow last week. I guess next week it's time for ol' Christmas radio to start playing again. But the iTunes are conspiring against it. Have no fear, I will find a way.
And for the musical end, I leave you with a newly discovered band HURT and their heartfelt 'World Ain't Right'.
But what I wanted to write about today is still related to religion.
Long story short - I came to be owner of a very large icon which sadly has no place in my home. I thought of going to the church and giving it away to someone who might appreciate it better. Which I did. I got sidetracked (as I usually do) and instead of giving it to an older and rather poorer lady, the icon ended up in the hands of a horrendous lady whose daughter is both a dentist and a princess (I kid you not, I have her business card, which reads First Name - PRINZESSIN - Last Name, the last name having a posh sound about it), and she wanted to thank me by getting me to be her dentist daughter's client. I managed to dodge that one quite swiftly (that is only because I was completely unaware of her intention), but when she asked for my phone number, I could find no reason to refuse her. So I gave it to her.
As you may suspect, the hag called me. She interrogated me for some ten minutes.
Here I must explain something to you: I am getting more and more like my grannie every day. If you ask my grandmother a question, she feels compelled to provide you with practically every little detail she can think of related to the subject matter. For example, the phone rings and someone asks to talk to my dad. Instead of saying simply 'He is not at home', my gran starts giving full details about his daily routine, his job, his office, the car he drives and when he actually left that morning, blah, blah. You get the picture. I used to get pissed when she would give me away on certain occasions, but mostly I was very amused by this habit of hers. Now, I find myself being more and more like her! Count on me to share most unusal and often inappropriate details, the difference between me and gran being only that I have to be asked for such details, I (for the moment) do not offer them unprompted for.
So, coming back to the hag. She first mistook me for my mother, because I only said 'Alo?' - it is what is most often said in Romania and I consider it quite appropriate to continue to do so. Obviously, since I said 'alo', I had to be my mother. Then she proceeded to ask me about the icon, not without first telling me the current whereabouts of said icon, if you must know it is located in the 'children's room', she had three grandsons and they come sometimes and sleep over and there it where the icon hangs now. So, what she wanted to know was a) when it was given the holy rite by the priest (says so on the back); b) where (still on the back, really, just take a look); c) how long have I had it for (sorry, WHA'??).
Then she wanted to know (stream of conscience following) how long have we been here in Germany, have we been to the church before, 'cause the priest there does not know us, she asked him if he gave the holy rites to the icon, he said no (I wonder if it was before asking him if he knew us...), he gave such rites to some icons before, but those were sold for the benefit of an orphans' shelter in Romania, don't we go to church (you might think we met at the pub), that was her first time she went to the church after two months spent back in Romania (I SO wanted to know that, it was vital for my well being), where did we come from, do I have a job, why not, what is my profession, don't I want to get a job (she was not interested in offering me tips to get a job, no, she was just curious to know if I like being a lousy Hausfrau or if I intend to finally work for a living)... And THIS is where I finally caught a brake and said good bye.
Typical old nosey parker behaviour!
I resisted bravely to giving away to many details and I am very impressed by myself. It was also helpful to have some ten little bells ringing viciously in my head at each of her questions and I think it has something to do with her, she was the one who got the bells ringing, she is the busybody pushing all buttons at once.
But this got me thinking - why, oh, why do older ladies have such an effect on me? I feel like a 6 year old all over again! They inspire me the same disgruntled respect and need to tell the truth when asked, but only when I think it is what they want to hear. Sheesh...
Aaanywho. The shops started hanging Christmas decorations two weeks ago. We had the first snow last week. I guess next week it's time for ol' Christmas radio to start playing again. But the iTunes are conspiring against it. Have no fear, I will find a way.
And for the musical end, I leave you with a newly discovered band HURT and their heartfelt 'World Ain't Right'.
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