seriously. that concert is probably going to be it for my non-work or family social activities until E. gets here for Christmas. i’m kind of too busy and tired to even feel bad about it. it’s a good thing i’m working and i like my job, i guess.

oh well. bloop bloop bloop.

ihatethismess:

breadandwhine:

tiredofbeingignored:

Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Let Gaga Be Great

1. Denial- This isn’t happening. She’s not real. “Just Dance” has to be a forgery. She has to be sampling. Oh, I know, this is a cover. No? It’s all her? She writes her own songs? Plays the piano? Actually sings? I refuse to believe this. Believing this would mean believing some girl in her early twenties isn’t your run-of-the-mill Piano Princess, and understands the dynamics of pop music well enough to compose an iconic first hit.

2. Bargaining - In addition to “Just Dance,” I’m just going to like “Papparazzi,” but that’s it! I refuse to be a predictable consumer of pop music. I refuse to like all of her radio singles. There’s no denying the girl is good, but she’s not that good. Wait. Her part in Wale’s “Chillin” is pretty decent. “Poker Face” is growing on me. Okay, pop music puppeteers, I’ll like “Chillin” in exchange for liking “Poker Face,” but I refuse to submit to the rest of Gaga. Never.

3. Contempt - I’m beginning to think this bitch killed Michael Jackson…and look at her…standing up for civil rights, and stuff, who does she think she is? How uppity. Does she think she’s, like, important? Well, she’s not. She’s still just a Pop Princess. She still makes soulless pop music that will mean nothing in a couple of years.  She’s not great.

4. Acceptance - Lady Gaga is alright. Not a fan or a hater, just an observer- an observer that’s very doubtful of whether she’ll ever produce anything better, or as good as her debut.

5. Obsession - FAME MONSTER leaks. Holy shit. I think the Universe’s water just broke. Birth of a motherfucking icon. I love this woman. I want to be this woman. I want to go to war for this woman. I want to buy her merchandise, and wait up at ungodly hours of the night to see her perform. There is nothing holy in this world, or as sacred as Gaga. Oh hey, shrine. So I have a shrine in my closet of Lady Gaga? This woman is amazing. I’m going to liveblog my reactions to everything she ever does. I want to meet her. I wonder if she has a secret tumblr I don’t know about.

closertotheocean:

1 Samuel 15:23 
Old College Try
Cotton
Psalms 40: 2 
Isaiah 45: 23 
Deuteronomy 2: 10 
Enoch 18: 14 
Genesis 30: 3 
From TG&Y (solo)
Blueberry Frost (solo)
Mole (solo)
Dance Music (solo)
(Owen of Final Fantasy comes out)
Going to Bristol
(everyone else comes back)
Hebrews 11: 14 
Quito
(Owen leaves)
Song for Dennis Brown (& hilarious Dennis Brown anecdote)
Genesis 3: 23 
This Year
Ezekiel 7 And The Permanent Efficacy Of Grace
Romans 10: 9 
No Children (w/ Owen on piano)

(made it all the way to the second song without getting all teary-eyed. sweet.)

(IT WAS NOT JUST ME. So there, person w. whom I went.)

closertotheocean:

fuckyeahthemountaingoats:

The Mountain Goats - Lion’s Teeth

The king of the jungle
Was asleep in his car
When your chances fall in your lap like that
You’ve gotta recognize them for what they really are
Nobody in this house
Wants to own up to the truth
I crawl in shotgun and reach into his mouth
And grab hold of one long sharp tooth

And hold on
For dear life
I hold on

i remember being up in my loft when my mattress was up there, playing this entire album so, so loud, and that’s why i am still here.

- that ridiculous sick rage that people have the audacity to be named things people who have died were named

-the way the smell of camel cigarettes makes me want to vomit

-the way people talk about having “beat cancer” on those fucking hospital billboards (idfk what hospital, too busy raging) that are all about the highway in Providence. stop talking about cancer like it’s some sort of epic battle you win by strength of spirit. it is a disease which either kills you or does not kill you, based on your physical statistics, your luck, and your socioeconomic status, okay?

(and, ok, i get the survivor thing — cancer and the ensuing radiation/chemo/cocktail of drugs are exhausting and personally draining and i get it if you, personally, having not died of cancer, feel as though you have, in fact, beaten off a gigantic mystical shitbeast — but the way you ‘beat’ cancer versus ‘get over’  the flu is just sort of symptomatic of the way we still somehow have decided that strength of spirit is one of the most important things to have when one also has cancer, which is, one, pretty much only as true about cancer as it is about any other fucking illness, and is, two, blah blah blah Sontag. anyhow, if i had cancer i’d rather having money [my grandfather, who has survived cancer three times now? something like that] than strength of spirit* [my father, who i guess lost the epic internal struggle cancer battle one apparently has.]. also, i’m bitter and angry and grieving somehow i probably don’t even have the right to miss, so fuck everything and everyone, ok? ok.)

*and i don’t mean strength of spirit to mean inherent magical sparkly goodness of any sort, i mostly just mean that my father was the most stubborn man possible, really, and while that isn’t really a compliment i guess the intensely illogical part of me (so, you know, most of me) is still a bit surprised that he could die w.o his consent.

tiredofbeingignored:

Sleeping in. A must.

Earlier risers need not apply.

IA

(The only exception is if you’re up early making me bacon. Then rise as early as you fucking like.)

that was truly and w/o a doubt the best concert experience i have ever had. even if i hadn’t stayed after and met everyone that would still be true. the set was gorgeous, the venue was v good, imo; i could see the whole time. the whole room was basically humming — and we got the concert trifecta of dance music/this year/no children. I was on the verge of tears for most of the set — I would’ve been crying from the third song in (Cotton) but I was actually pretty dehydrated.

we spoke to and got autographs from Perry and PPH while in the venue, and John came out briefly to say he’d be out later to sign, but they kicked us out anyway. We and a bunch of people sat out front until they padlocked the doors, then we meandered down to the bus (to be clear, we wouldn’t have done this normally but he promised us he’d come back out) with a group of about ten-ish people all of whom where really nice — we all chatted a bit. He came out eventually and we talked and he signed our tickets. Some of the people left but we waited around while he signed and I just thanked him again, for basically doing his thing, told him that, you know, he’d saved my fucking life, at which point i got all teary and he hugged me and then i cried some more, because that ia apparently my thing.

in summary, he is a very nice guy.

Final Fantasy was way too cool for us, though, you could just tell.

He just hugged me. I cried. Holy shit.

closertotheocean:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I KNOW I KNOW HOLY SHIT.

PS omfgggggggg.

fuckingdelicious:

Good food, good friends — I can’t help grinning ear to ear like a motherfucking idiot!

(via godutchbaby)

ifl these guys.