Deerhoof

recap: hung out with the infamous alice finally. and by infamous, i mean one of the sweetest people i've ever met. v, you did well on this one. our blind date went outrageously well.

ate some sushi. the owner/manager of the restaurant was cantonese. whipped out my bilingual skills to impress...him. he went on this rant about how the world has too many issues, but you can't blame them on one particular group or person.
alice's response to him: "but sometimes, you can..." that made me laugh.

went to see deerhoof. metropolic ensemble preceded them, and the entire time it was as if i were in a futuristic video game, the aliens were coming, and space odyssey was dawning upon us. plus, the shrieking noises just sucked.

and then...deerhoof. let me just say that they are worth seeing live. it makes me appreciate their music that much more. the drummer is a true prodigy--he played so hard the drum sticks broke at one point. the dissonance and tension felt so tangible and the energy built up made me want to go rock out with all the other long-haired stoners in the front.
the lead singer really is a small japanese lady. too cute for words. killed me every time she jumped up and did this kick move.
sidenote: watching people bob their heads in unison was a awwwwesome.

plans for today: siren. then whatever. stoked.



Metropolis Ensemble.

(they weren't that great)


(haha, i dont' think she'd like this photo)

prospect park

deerhoof, take one.

the drummer has trouble speaking. he spoke. like this. and paused. because he couldn't. put. his thoughts. together. but he's just so caught up with the drumming that it didn't really matter. went to add to their persona.

lalalalalala. incomprehensible english and japanese.

yummy.


Meet me, meet me, over the mountain
Meet me, meet me, under the ocean
Cry out, cry out
(The Perfect Me)

Get in the sunrise, I want to get in the sunrise

mmmmmmmmm, yeasayer.
"Middle Eastern-psych-snap-gospel"

why won't i be here when they come.

The Natives Will Get It

Direct quote from the loony maintenance man today (we'll call him Bob). Bob called the Russians students at the graduate institute that I work at "debutantes walking around with their cupcakes." Bob was frustrated by the mess they made today. Bob thought they should eat their cupcakes near the dirt. Bob was talking to himself. Bob also said...
"The Natives Will Get It."

sidenote: I'm quite positive he told me last week, "If you were a native, you would wear your shoes."
fact: I had my flip flops next to me.
fact: I was sitting at my desk.
fact: I slipped them off because I was sitting.
fact: he had also said I was a horrible person at some point because of the shoe incident.
question: I don't look like a native?
conclusion: He thinks I'm "foreign," with no notions of American values and courtesy. Shame on me.
further conclusion: He made a racist comment.

But since he is a little off-the-wall, I'll forgive him.

I forgive you Bob. Thanks for making my days here so entertaining.

what i do at work.

Office Conversation, 1

Girl: "I'm so sad I can't buy clothes here for two dollars."
B: "It's New York."
G: "I can get it for $2 in Georgia!"
B: "But you don't go to Georgia that often."
G: "I don't care! I'm just saying."
B: "Yeah, you're a bargain hunter. Me too, but it's hard to find clothes in my size."
G: "You could find stuff at Ross"
B: "You want to take me shopping one day?"
G: "No, because you're a man and I'm a woman."
B: "So we can't go shopping together?"
G: "No."
B: "So if we were girl friends, you would take me shopping?"
G: "Maybe."
B: "I don't understand."
G: "You're a guy and I'm a woman. Guys should pay for everything. That's why you work."
B: "No...why do guys make money? To provide for their families."
G: "Yeah. That's true."
B: "But I'm not family. I'm just a friend."
G: "Still. Why do you think you drive a BMW?"
B: "Because..."
G: "Because you want to impress the ladies. That's it."
......
same G: "It looks like you party a lot."
same B: "Why do you say that? You're so judgmental."
G: "It looks like you party in Brooklyn."
B: "Why do you say that?"
G: "You just have that look."
B: "Actually, I don't. Just because I live in Brooklyn, doesn't mean I party there. I actually don't party anymore...I go to a lot of networking events."
G: "Ughhhhhh, don't use that term with me. I hate it."
B: "What? Networking events?"
G: "Yes."
B: "Fine...events."
.......

I know my ABCs, part II

L is for love. Ah yes, the dreaded four-letter word that my friends and I always inevitably start talking about when sad/depressed/hopelessly romantic (basically, all the time). However, I would like to speak of L-O-V-E in a different sense right now.
For example, my love for the dance persuasion. My love for drunken dribble. My love for horrible Borat impressions that I left in SoCal (thank goodness for everyone). My love for late-night coffee. My love for Nine Stories. My love for the Hipsters, both in a loathing yet embracing sense. My love for the comfortable spinning and lulling that comes with drinking, when I rest my head and feel thoughts dancing because my body is too tired to do the dancing itself.

M is for Money. Fuck not having money. Worst of all, Fuck having a slight amount of money in the bank and fooling myself into thinking I HAVE money (when I don't). Fuck credit cards and how much a few swipes add up; internships that don't pay; college tuition that is beyond my control; the driving force wedging happiness and satisfaction further and further away.

N is for the things I'm excited about that are New. New York. the New Yorker. New people. New clothes. New blog entries. New friends on facebook. New music. New relationships with People. New scabs. New favorite phrases.

O is for wanting to be Old. True, the grass is always greener on the other side and I'm going to want to be 20 once I hit 27, but for now I don't see much use in being in this lame passover phase. Yeah, college is fun...but the "real world" is funner, in theory. 19 is great, but 22 is greater.

P is for Patience. Wish I had more of it, and I'm starting to respect people who have it (Elly would get this one...)

Q is for the worst letter to have in Scrabbulous.

R is for rambling, because I do so much of it, and people somehow can stand it.

S is for symbolism. Do you not agree that everything is symbolic in nature, one way or another? If one is true to their intentions, everything they do, say, think reflects those desires. Hence symbolic. Hence me reading into everything even though I tell people not to read into everything I do. But that could be symbolic of my personality...you decide.

T is for Tang. For those that don't know, I'm actually supposed to be Jessie Chen. So glad it isn't because I would be even more common on facebook. Tang is way cooler anyways, for the reason that I get cooler nicknames. The appeal probably ends there.

U is for Urban. It wins over Southern hospitality, over the Suburbs, over...the not-Urban.
C'mon, Urban Outfitters. Urban Dictionary. Urban Legends. Only the best things in life are worthy of being Urban.

V is for visceral. A word I love because it sounds great. I want to be more visceral, and I want to be less visceral, all at the same time. Hopefully that makes sense.

W is for Webster Hall. The four-story dances. The Friday-night Amateur Strip Tease. The old creeps that lurk in the dark and take any opportunity they get to flash that priceless, pedophile smile. The trance music that made me take off my shoes and jump around. The discovery that Elly and I have the same taste in guys and are one-in-the-same in too many ways. The boy in stripes. The boy in plaid. The cheap-ass $4 shots drunken from plastic cups I use during Communion (a little blasphemous).

X is for Xtreme. I would like to live life to the Xtreme.

Y is yummy. Yummy $42 lunches. Yummy Asian fusion...I can't get enough of it here. Yummy coffee. Yummy lindor truffles. Yummy is a yummy word. Now say that 10 times fast. Now I feel like having gummy bears.

Z is for the Zoo. Life is a zoo and I'm just peering into each cage, figuring out whether I like the lions or the parrots more.

So apparently...

I need to write in a more academic tone.

Only 8% of the world's energy reserves are owned by international energy companies. The other 80% are owned by national governments and national corporations. The United States is sincerely and utterly fucked.

Attempting to concentrate for five hours straight is incredibly difficult.

Yesterday was a blessing in disguise. Love my friends.

Jess