This morning I crossed the street in the middle of the block rather than at the crosswalk, which in Midtown Manhattan during the morning rush hour is basically asking for death. I survived, though.

Against my better judgment, I went to see Ben Kweller last night. That was a bad idea. Not only is Ben Kweller a self-important hipster twatwaffle, but Southpaw (the venue) is a miserable, sweltering hellhole. The show was sold out, and there were probably 300 people crammed into the space that 100 people could occupy comfortably. AND THERE WAS NO AIR CONDITIONING. IN JULY. JESUS CHRIST PEOPLE. If I hadn't had the foresight to bring my Chinese fan, I wouldn't have survived. As it was, it wasn't pretty. I sweat in places I didn't even know I had sweat glands.

Anyway, he was performing Sha Sha, an album that I briefly liked several years ago. I originally thought that I liked the idea of an artist performing an album live. I was mistaken. It's boring and predictable. If I wanted to hear an album, I would sit on my couch in comfort and air conditioning, or dance around my room in my underwear and air conditioning.



The good news is that even in a rumpled, sweaty state, I'm cute. No fewer than two (2) dudes struck up conversations with me on the train. I'm a hot (get it? get it?) commodity.

In the wonderful movie The Gods Must Be Crazy II, which should be required viewing for all, there's a scene where a man encounters a vicious badger-like beast that decides it wants his boot. "Once they latch on, they don't let go!" he tells his companion as he runs. But he's not quick enough, and the badger (which Frank discovered is a ratel, or a honey badger) catches his boot and clamps on, growling. After dragging the badger for a while, he manages to shake it loose, but the badger is tenacious. It follows the man through the desert, huffing and growling and waddling after him for miles. It's just about the funniest thing ever.

Last night after excellent dumplings and awful soup at Shanghai Joe's in Chinatown, then some plum bubble tea that tasted like prunes from TenRen, then purchasing a Chinese fan (me) and a dragonfruit (him), and I went to the Knitting Factory to see Bat for Lashes. We hid from the awful opening act (Pepi Ginsburg, aka Pepi Nutsucker) in the basement bar and played an amusing game that involved me trying to stick my gum in his beard. I'm a terror.



Bat for Lashes is the stage name of Natasha Khan, the dark-haired, half-Pakistani girl in front, and those other chicks are her friends/band. They were amazing. They have all sorts of interesting percussion instruments, complicated and shiny costumes, and incredible harmonies. I. Am. In. Love. RIYL: Bjork, Tori Amos, Kate Bush, Rasputina

Also, I'm certain that Moby was there last night, but alas, I have no proof.

This video is said to be a tribute to Donnie Darko, one of Natasha's favorite movies, and I can definitely see it. It's worth watching, if you haven't seen it before - dudes with animal masks and hoodies doing jumps on bikes. Vaguely creepy.




Tahiti
What's a Girl to Do

Bjork had better step up her game - there's a new elf in town.

OH MY GOD.

Have you ever read Chuck Palahniuk's story, Guts? This is that story in real life.

(warning: really gross)