So, the question of the day seems to be whether i prefer awkwardly and ineffectually flirting in person, or awkwardly and indistinguishably flirting via instant messenger.
Not much of a question, huh? Meanwhile, someone just found my website using my full name and “krisis” as search terms. Hmm… someone checking up on their awkward suitor? That’s what IP logs were made for…
129.25.17.# drexel.edu @ 4:28:53 pm, who are you?
Personal
I hated Napster, mostly. The way i saw it, a bunch of cheap college kids were using it as an excuse to short-shrift their favourite artists of hard-earned profit. It did have its high points, namely tracking down obscure and out-of-print Tori songs, but it wasn’t something i was very fond of. In fact, I may have cheered a little when it bit the dust.
Really, how could i help but hate any service that makes cd shopping somewhat obsolete? I live for cd shopping! Even with statistics indicating that cd sales actually showed signs of an upward trend for many of the demographics engaged in trading audio files over the internet, somehow i could never reconcile the idle sampling of a new album with myself — it takes all of the fun out of blindly buying something and then falling madly in love with it. Looking at some of my recent favourite albums, i don’t think i would feel the same about choirgirl, distillation, or poses if i had gotten any sort of substantial preview of them … part of the wonder i hold them in was my initial discovery of what they had to offer A lot of college students might have wound up buying things that they never would have previously, but for a completest like me the entire concept is the sonic equivalent of peeking at my Christmas Presents on December 22nd.
250+ purchases later, tonight i found myself warming to the concept of trading files for an entire opposite reason than i would have suspected Freshmen year. Essentially: my purchasing plan for Winter 2002 is already upwards of a dozen new releases — with my time and money already tied up in snapping up albums by the myriad of performers that i am already practically subscribed to, i can’t always afford to find & snag other random recommendations that people make to me. You could argue that i have enough new music to keep myself occupied, but i could be missing out on my next favourite album every time i blow off a suggestion! Tonight i found myself chatting with Andy, and we made reciprocal recommendations to each other. However, rather than add these people to our ever-growing shopping lists, we proceeded to neatly exchange a handful of their mp3’s, and now it would seem that i’m as destined to own a Mason Jennings disc as he is to buy a Peter Mulvey album.
I never thought of it this way, but i really am a one-stop shopping center for a shocking array of artists; i own between ninety and one hundred percent of the catalogues of Garbage, Madonna, Tori Amos, Ani DiFranco, Peter Mulvey, PJ Harvey, Weezer, Death Cab For Cutie, Erin McKeown, Velvet Underground, & Garrison Starr, with significant holdings in Alanis Morrisette, Melissa Etheridge, Radiohead, and a slew of other artists. Of course, i collectively have under 10 mp3s on my computer of songs from these umpteen albums, but it’s sort of neat to think that someone who was interested in one of these artists could really hear anything by them via me. I think that i’m finally softening to owning mp3s because the odds are if i’ve listened to something more than once or twice i intend to buy it. I still can’t endorse things like AudioGalaxy and the like because i know that i am a highly unusual music consumer, and also because of my possessive singer-songwriter issues, but there’s a difference between randomly downloading a hot new single and making a calculated attempt at triangulating whether or not you should get addicted to an already established artist.
I don’t know why i felt the need to bring that up; i definitely wasn’t volunteering to hook you up with Madonna’s complete greatest hits, that’s for sure. Of course, if you were offering to introduce me to the collected wonders of Lucinda Williams, i would gladly give you three reasons to love PJ Harvey….
Did you know that it takes 7 to 10 days to make a Jelly Belly jelly bean?
Or, more importantly, that you can buy an entire kilo just of Watermelon?
Just checking. Oh, hey, watch that drool, you don’t want to get any on the keyboard.
So, if yesterday was a kick in the ass i think today must have been a punch in the gut. The funny thing is, nothing bad happened. Nada. Actually, the day was quite nice.
In other news, i just wrote a song without the word “you” in it. Be very afraid. It’s too late to record it though (roommates are sleeping soundly below), so i’m just here. Here. No homework or anything. Well, actually my homework is mostly just staring anxiously at the silvery reinforced crate that the digital video camera for my class is sitting in. I somehow (am an idiot) managed not to purchase a DV tape before picking up the camera, so i can’t shoot any footage. So, basically, I’m just sitting here staring anxiously at the silver Camera Box. It seems to realize that it makes me uncomfortable, and so it shines unobtrusively in the manner of a much more delightful object, but still inspires terror in the depths of my soul.
Which goes along nicely with the punch in the stomach, actually.
What, me sleep?
Today kicked my ass, which is pretty sobering because Monday is the day i don’t have any classes. Part of the problem seems to be that i am physically incapable of waking up earlier than 11AM, or 10:20 if i have class at eleven. Considering that i was waking up like clockwork at nine every day last semester, this is not any improvement in my quality of life. Of course, last semester i wasn’t spending three hours a night sitting behind a tile-topped desk staring blankly at rehearsal from behind the ‘Props and Lighting’ stage-book. All that sitting leaves me wound up with nothing to do when i get home, and so i wind up surfing the internet until i’m in arm’s reach of dawn before i finally relent and snuggle up tightly for bed.
Tonight would appear to be no different, despite the thorough whupping Monday dealt out to me. Tomorrow awaits to be lived, though, and between here and there i am sure there must be dreams.