Itunes write up

I got this idea from someone else’s post but whenever I tried to reblog it it kept linking back to theirs so I’m just making another post.

How Many Songs: 1180

Sort By Song Title
First Song: About As Helpful As You Can Be Without Being Any Help At All- Dan Mangan

Last Song: 2000 Light Years From Home- The Rolling Stones

Sort By Time

Shortest Song: Stranded- Red Hot Chili Peppers
Longest Song: Joey- Bob Dylan

Sort By Artist
First Artist: AC/DC
Last Artist: The Yardbirds

Sort By Album
First Album: Accelerate- REM

Last Album: Voodoo Child: The Jimi Hendrix Collection- Jimi Hendrix

Death: 6
Life: 31

Love: 53
Hate: 1
You: 123
Sex: 1


KID KOALA: Moon River

Super Moon this weekend, guys.

02.20.15 // pore strip people

Earlier this week, I volunteered to help my manfriend clean his rather unfortunate kitchen. While balls-deep in Butthole Surfers, cheap malbec, and on my second steel wool, he innocently asked, “Is this…OK with you?” I think, since cleaning is traditionally not the most party time task we get to experience in life, he thought surely I was cursing him under my breath. But…guys, I’m kind of a pervert.

Caroline accidentally named it about a month ago when we were kicking it with bourbon and Kevin on my couch. I’m not sure how it came up, but I was trying to recall an OxiClean commercial—you know, those ones from the ’90s when that bearded dude crouches next to a sickly-looking light brown bathtub and is all,”YO WATCH THIS,” and when you do, you see him swipe a perfect white scar, cutting through the scuzz. “HOLY FUCK,” 8-year-old me thought. Caroline nodded knowingly as I detailed all of this. “Oh yeah,” she said. “Biore pore strip people. I’m one of those, too.” 


Keep reading

I spoke with Courtney Barnett and gosh, if I was lukewarm on her before… sigh. On her frank songwriting and deliver:

"I just try to do what comes naturally," Barnett says. "I let the words roll out of my mouth, and I play whatever matches that on guitar. The minute I start thinking about it, it becomes contrived."

Peep the whole story o’er at Creative Loafing. Maybe I’ll see you at her show next week at The Loft?


JELLY ROLL MARTIN: Black Bottom Stomp

As previously mentioned, I had family in town this weekend. It was lovely. Among my favorite moments was the discovery of what an absolute visionary my grandmother is with spatial planning and interior practicality. We were sitting around on furniture the same way I’d haphazardly splayed it from the moving truck in August. Seriously, I just told Rick and Dillon to “put shit wherever” and it all kinda just…stayed. Granny off-the-cuff was like, “What if the couch was on that wall and you tipped your record shelf up and stuck it in the corner?” I think she immediately regretted uttering a thing because I cracked a beer for everyone and started sliding things across the floor. Between my dad, mom, and grandma, we reworked the living room entirely in under an hour. The only new additions included a lamp my folks found on the curb and a coat rack we got for $3 at Value Village and spray painted gold (obvs).

Weird how you can breathe new life in a space simply by moving around a bunch of pre-existing materials. This is a metaphor, I’m convinced. And for real, it’s at least 70 percent more comfortable in there, y’all.

Good morning.



I know I already posted a song this morning, but here’s another of Nilsson performing live in ‘71 for some television special. I am gutted.

It’s just no good anymore
When you walk through the door of an empty room
And then you go inside and set a table for one
It’s no fun when you spend a day
Without her

The optimistic do-do-dos and super simple chords hint at hope among the hopeless, calcifying lyrics.

There’s no song without her
It’s all wrong without her
Can’t go on without her

Fuck, Nilsson. He was so good.



Live at Union Pool, LOL.