Rolling Stone fucks with me like no other. I can't believe how mad I am that they awarded that many stars to the Interpol album. But then again, when did I ever take Rolling Stone's word? Maybe if this were a decade or two ago. Maybe.
Rilo Kiley's new album is almost out and about. I kind of like the first single, The Moneymaker. Cute Jenny turned into Sneering Jenny. And there's almost no way this band could go wrong. They sit on the pedestal of the indie world with a plaque reading: Beloved Darlings. If Jenny Lewis puked into a pump shoe, I'm pretty sure people would applause and acclaim her for bringing back the decadence of the 80s in such a chic fashion.
That's my two cents of being an elitist music whore. Onward to other things?
Sure.
I've developed a new chocolate vice. Ritter Sport Bars. I'm glad something good came out of Germany after all this time. I feel like I should stock up on them when I head over to Europe this winter. Cam across the pond? At last. I just have no itinerary right now or even an idea of where to start. But it's okay. I should probably figure out my living and employment situation here in San Diego first. Both items are still on To Do list and kind of not moving forward with either.
And after all these years, seeing the music video for California by Phantom Planet still makes me smile ever so wistfully. I'm really glad that's one of the things that hasn't changed in my life.
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