This Is Just Me Being All Neurotic (And Shooting Lasers From My Eyes)

I haven't felt very good for the past couple of days. It's probably just a combination of stress (cue lively chorus of "How are we gonna pay-ay-ay thiiiiiiis yeeeeear's reeeeeent?"), a fairly bad diet (cheese, bread, and coffee, anyone?), and living in a glorified ghetto full of lead/mold/asbestos/people that don't bathe (no one ever said Bohemianism would be glamorous). Also, when you share a kitchen with about 30 people (some of which choose not to bathe), everything becomes a germ factory from time to time (or, all the time). I'm staying off of WebMD and attempting to cure myself by taking ibuprofen, opening my windows to air out my apartment (but not wide enough for people to leap through), and eating only fruit (and pizza...and cookies...and cake...). I have no doubt that I will be totally fine.

Except that I remember being bit by an extraordinarily large mosquito one night last week when I was out on the stoop with The Poet and The Mad Scientist. It's no coincidence that I started feeling under the weather a few days later. I think we all know what that means: I HAVE THE WEST NILE VIRUS!

NOTE: I hope you know I'm being melodramatic for comedic purposes. I don't really think I have The West Nile Virus. But then again, I'm not allowing myself to look at WebMD right now, so I haven't checked the symptoms.

In other news, I did eat a tuna fish sandwich last week. And we all know that tuna fish has a recent history of being radioactive because of the disasters in Japan. That being said, I'm half expecting to wake up after several days of feeling crummy and suddenly have the ability to move stuff with my mind and maybe shoot laser beams out of my eyes.

I think it will be pretty cool once I get used to it...



























I was about to say something stupid like, "It will be just like Spiderman!"  But then I remembered two things:

1)  Spiderman is kinda lame and has a dumb outfit!  Though who doesn't love those tight pants... 
2)  Spiderman was bit by a radioactive spider and therefore has spider-like qualities.  According to this logic, eating radioactive tuna would give me, um, tuna-like qualities.

"Yo, I'm the chicken of the sea!"

This whole tuna fish-induced radioactive super powers thing is slowly going from being a live action version of the paintings The Chef graciously hung in the kitchen....

Brilliant!  Simply brilliant!  What will that man paint next?

... to becoming reminiscent of an absurd little cartoon character I created in college.

Don't ask me how my brain works.  I don't know.  I just don't know.  

Now that I took this whole thing to the weird land of talking fish sticks, I don't really remember what this post was supposed to be about.

I think I'm going to go gorge myself on leftover pizza delicately eat a piece of fruit.

Peace out, amigos.  More interesting and relevant thoughts later, I promise.

Special Cookies

People don't usually expect me to be a prankster, but I totally am one under the right circumstances.

And today is April Fools Day. Definitely the right circumstance for the perfect prank.

That being said, I made some great cookies last night.

Cheap Oreos with toothpaste filling, anyone?

I put them on a plate and left them on the kitchen table in the middle of the night.

Mmmm...cookies...

Tons of people fell for it. They bit into them and gagged and laughed and wondered who on earth would play a prank like that. Meanwhile, I sat reading the paper and laughing to myself inconspicously.

Everyone blamed it on the dirty hipster that no one likes. I was never even a suspect.

Mission accomplished.

Maybe I'll fess up about it later, but right now I'm having too much fun watching people try to figure where the cookies came from.

Anyway, happy April Fools Day, everyone!

I'm a really sick person sometimes...

Blah Blah Blah...

Meeting Mike Mills (less blurry)

NOTE: I've been trying to write this post for several days now. Maybe the words will finally fall together the way I want them to this time. Read at your own risk.

R.E.M.'s new album came out yesterday. Kudos to Allison for reminding me to buy it. I downloaded it on Amazon last night and have probably listened to it five times since then. "Collapse Into Now" is the R.E.M. I fell in love with when I was a socially awkward 15-year-old raiding my dad's stereo cabinet. It also helps that I had the experience of going to a listening party with Mike Mills himself.

Still waiting for him to email me, by the way. Haha. My homemade demo CD is probably sitting in a pile somewhere on his desk. Or maybe he sat on it and broke it while it was in his back pocket. It remains a mystery. I'm not really expecting THE Mike Mills to contact me regarding my amateur demo, but it is cool to think that he has that option.

Oh man, was it only two weeks ago that I was in San Diego? I was so ready to conquer the world when I came back. What happened? Today I've been stuck in a bit of an emotional slump (with R.E.M. as the soundtrack, of course...it's like 10th grade revisited...). I know that I sometimes come off as the girl that can put on a sparkly mini-dress and power through life, but this crazy post-college adventure isn't without moments of intense self-doubt.

I found a note from The Poet under my door this morning, reminding me yet again that I'm not crazy. It found it's way under my door just when I was thinking of going back to bed. Last night I confessed to him that I felt stuck and I hadn't played the piano in four days. This alarmed him, as it probably should have. Making music is usually a daily thing for me.

I guess my groove got thrown off last week when I got weirdly sick while driving to my parents' house. I had been feeling sick like that throughout the week but this time it was really bad. I felt dizzy, my head ached, there was a weird tingling feeling down my spine, and half of my body felt like it was about to go numb. After taking a mental inventory of all the baked goods I consumed in the past 24 hours, I ended up going to urgent care and taking a series of evaluations that felt like sobriety tests. The doctor was really nice and did a good job at convincing me that I was not dying but rather just experiencing a really bizarre migraine headache. Then again, I could be suffering from intense anxiety or chronic carbon monoxide poisoning. The building I live in is ancient and full of fumes, so that last one seemed probable.

When I was calmed down and about to leave, the doctor told me I might have HIV. He followed that up with the following sentence: "And syphilis is making a comeback. You don't want to rule that out."

I nearly laughed. Did he know that my neighbor just had a melodramatic syphilis scare because of a weird rash on her foot?

Also, I feel like I would know if I had syphilis. I think there is some sort of gross rash involved, but I don't think it starts on your foot...

Anyway, I don't think any urgent care doctor should ever be allowed to mutter the words "You might have HIV" unless they plan to do some serious blood work or have decent evidence to back it up. Even if the patient casually mentions having set foot on the continent of Africa at one point in time (yes, my trip to Egypt came up somehow).

I think Jack White wrote the song "Girl, You Have No Faith In Medicine" with me in mind. But I digress. After spending some quality time with WebMD and Wikipedia, I convinced myself that I do not have HIV. Instead, I became convinced that something in the building I live in (the pipes, the radiators, the chemicals the construction workers are using downstairs, etc.) was slowly eating away at me. For the first time, moving out of the commune seemed like a possibility.

I went to see a neurologist and he couldn't really pinpoint the cause. He suggested changing things about my lifestyle and environment. Not a bad idea. So I'm on a mission to eat healthier, get on a regular sleep schedule, and exercise more.

Though I can't help but be a little paranoid about my apartment. I plugged a carbon monoxide detector into the wall and it hasn't beeped at me yet. But what about the water that goes through those crusty old pipes? What about the fumes from construction? Antique mold hiding in corners and crevices?

I hope I'm just being neurotic. But a couple of my friends here have experienced milder versions of my symptoms. Maybe I'm the canary in the coal mine and we're all destined to go down in history as those hippies that all died from lead poisoning/syphilis.

It's all been a bit of a wake-up call. Right now, I'm really not feeling that well physically or mentally and I'm realizing that my days in the commune come with an expiration date. I'm calculating my next move. Or trying to, at least.

I've noticed that other people are beginning to talk about what they are going to do when they move out of the commune. One of my friends (TMBG Girl) already moved out. For most people, it's not the toxic fumes. It's a whole number of things - the ever-changing group dynamics, the petty politics, issues with The Management, the lack of consistent hot water and laundry facilities, etc.

A guy that lives on the second floor had a frightening nervous break-down a couple of days ago. It was Magic Butter Guy. Not someone I really hung out with but not someone I expected to snap and trash the kitchen. He is best known for playing the pan flute and reading poetry from a scroll. The sudden burst of violence freaked everybody out a little bit. I didn't witness it and it wasn't even my kitchen that it happened in, but it's still weird. I guess when you put a bunch of artists in a building together, it makes sense statistically that somebody is going to have a scary melt down. It's still unsettling though. And it's changed the vibe around here.

In other news, I'm trying to let go of something that's been an important part of my life and my identity for nearly half a decade. I think that's a big part of why I've been in the mood to mope around and listen to R.E.M. instead of making my own music. But I'll get over it.

On one of my first nights in the commune, The Chef invited himself into my room and ended up crying on my couch while eating shrimp-flavored cheese puffs. It was rather moving but also fairly awkward (there was a strange old man crying on my couch...). I will never forget what he said: "The only thing we ever really have is the ability to love and the ability to create. We may think we have more, but that's really all we have." I think there's a lot of truth to that statement.

So I'm not going to let this slump get the best of me. The thing about having a day where you stare at the blank pages of your journal and play the same album on repeat is that when it's over, you can consider that part done and move on (theoretically). That being said, I've already got the next insane plan in my head and tomorrow I'm coming back with full force (theoretically).

Sorry this post hasn't been the funniest. I usually try to avoid these kinds of entries and I'm debating whether or not I should click "PUBLISH." I think I'm just going to click it and if I'm unhappy with that decision in the morning I can delete it.

Stay tuned to hear about my adventures at a vegan potluck. I promise you that will be actually entertaining, not just a jumble of whiney, self-reflexive ramblings.

Gold stars to anyone who made it this far. Love you, bloggy friends.

Oh! I almost forgot!

The Fonz left this at my door shortly after our gay club adventure...

Peeps singing a Fat Boy Slim song...

That's all I've got. Over and out.

Last Night

The other day, I ran into The Chef in the kitchen and asked how his day was going. He thought it would be hilarious to launch into a monologue detailing every little mundane thing that had happened to him that day.

"I went to buy squash and it was on sale so I bought more of it than I was intending. The cashier put it in a bag and said have a nice day. Then I road my bike back here and now I'm eating some bagels in the kitchen and there's a plate of butter on the table, and some candles, and some salt and pepper..."

I didn't really get what he was doing at first and listened intently, waiting for his story to have a punchline. Instead, he continued to describe irrelevant objects in the room. It was really funny, but it kinda made me never want to ask him how his day was again.

Anyway, I feel as though this post may be a little bit like that - a lot of little mundane snippets with no real punchline or moral to the story. You've been warned.

I wasn't feeling very good yesterday. I stayed in my room for most of the day, bundled up in layers of blankets and sweatpants, alternating between writing music and watching reruns of "Arrested Development" on Hulu. I let myself think too much about life as I know it and found myself falling into a bit of a slump. I tried sleeping it off but I only woke up feeling grumpier. No amount of Tylenol could make my headache go away and my throat hated me. I contemplated going back to bed, but instead I decided I should probably eat something. I put on my slippers, pulled a hat over my messy hair, and stumbled into the kitchen to toast a bagel.

The kitchen was full of people drinking wine and eating popcorn. They cheered when I walked in the room, greeting me enthusiastically and proclaiming that they hadn't seen me all day. They asked how I was. I said I wasn't feeling very good. Lego Guy and his wife set me up with some herbal tea. A girl that moved in a few weeks ago offered me some vitamins. I took a seat at the table and was instantly cheered up by the colorful banter taking place. Lego Guy was doing his weird cartoon voices. The Chef had everyone singing his latest musical composition (elegantly titled "The Hamster Wheel of Bullsh*t"). My mood improved dramatically after just being in the kitchen for a few minutes.

I'm going to remember this next time I find myself being reclusive and come out of my room a lot sooner.

The night quickly became one of those nights that could have ended three times before it actually did. I seem to have those nights a lot. I think it's because the world I live in tends to come alive after 10pm. Whenever I announce that I am going to bed and act as though I am going to put my pajamas on, something more interesting comes up.

The first time I said I was going to bed, I ended up running into my friend TMBG Girl. TMBG Girl just moved in at the beginning of the month. We previously had the following moment of bonding:

Me: "Hey, I like that They Might Be Giants bumper sticker on your laptop! I have one just like it!"
TMBG Girl: "Thanks! John Flansburg handed it to me at the end of their show last year!"
Me: "No way! John Flansburg handed one of those to me too at the end of that show!"
TMBG Girl: "OMG NO WAY!"
Me: "We both own something that was touched by John Flansburg!"
TMBG Girl: "OMG JOHN FLANSBURG!"

I think I've been waiting my entire life to meet someone who's love for They Might Be Giants matches mine. It's pretty rare to meet someone who knows who they are and appreciates them. It's even more unlikely to meet someone who has seen them in concert multiple times, can quote the documentary, knows the names of all the band members (past and present), and understands that they are much more than a novelty band. Actually, I've never met someone like that in real life (it's easy to find those people on the Internet because they creep around in the same forums). So my new found friendship with TMBG Girl has been mind blowing. We had a really good conversation last night that started out being about They Might Be Giants, evolved into a broader discussion of music and life, then ended with us vowing never to date boys that did not share our intense love of They Might Be Giants. I have a feeling we will both be single for a very, very long time.

I decided to go to bed after that conversation, but I barely made it out of the kitchen when I ran into my neighbor, Purple Hair! She's been hard at work turning an old pair of my shoes into wearable art and announces that the shoes will be done very soon! Intrigued to finally see what my old Chinese flats have transformed into, I decide to stay up. It was definitely worth it, because soon she emerges from her studio with my magical new rock star shoes:

Yeah, you're seeing that right - they are now knee-high and equipped with bells and veils. Kinda looks like something that escaped from a Tim Burton film. I don't think I've ever seen shoes quite like these before.

I am in love.

Naturally, I had to spend some quality time prancing around the hallways in my new shoes, jingling like a little elf and showing them off to people that hadn't yet gone to bed. Purple Hair even did a small photo shoot of me in my new shoes. She then went to go smoke with Mr. Syracuse and I decided that I was really going to bed this time.

But I didn't go to bed. I ended up talking to a woman who's visiting town from Montana and is staying in her friends' piano studio across the hall from the kitchen. She's a friendly, middle-aged hippy who took the liberty of decorating the piano studio in blue Christmas lights, candles, and little figurines of Buddha. She finds out I'm a musician and gets really excited. Next thing I know, I'm giving her an impromptu concert by candlelight.

I played a song about the end of the world. It's one I wrote in January and I've played it a million times since then. But last night just may have been my best performance of that song yet. It figures that my best performance would happen in a dark, closed room with only one other person listening. But I guess that music is music is music is music, no matter when and where you make it. For three minutes, nothing really mattered except for the keys of the piano and the song I was singing. When I finished, my new hippy friend stared at me and smiled.

"That was wonderful," she said. "Can you play it again but play quieter so I can hear the words?"

I played it again, but this time only played each chord once with a single hand, singing the words clearly so she could understand them. She learned some of the words and sang along.

"We don't know how it's ending," we sang. "We don't know how the world is ending."

The song came to it's quiet conclusion. "You know," the woman said. "I don't think I'm afraid of the world ending. I've been trying to live everyday like it's my last anyway. I think when it's time for the world to end, I'll be totally okay with it."

We get into a discussion about the end of the world and what it means to be ready for it all to end suddenly. We talked about fear and love and the importance of living each day as if it might be the last. We talked about cats and rock music and Chinese food and Nostradamus. Finally I left the glow of the piano studio with the intention of really, really going to bed this time.

And I really did go to bed. I crawled into my cold nest of blankets and promptly fell asleep.

I awoke first thing in the morning to a rapid knock on my door.

To Be Continued...

Getting Sick. Getting Older. Getting...A Job???

Bleck. I've caught the crud that's going around. Last night I even skipped out on going 80's dancing with friends to stay home and blow my nose repeatedly. You know I really don't feel well when I pass on 80's night.

I miss the days when being sick was kind of glamorous. Not that being sick is ever fun. But when I was a little kid, coming down with the flu meant that I got to move Mom's TV into my room. It meant staying home from school to watch hours of "The Price Is Right" while Mom made sure there was always a full glass of 7-up in front of me.

Getting sick is just annoying when you're an adult though. Oh how times change.

It's still weird to think of myself as an adult. I just realized that I'm going to turn 23 in about two weeks. TWENTY THREE. How on earth did I get to be 23 already? What am I doing with my life???

(Note: Those are rhetorical questions. Do not answer them.)

I think all I really want for my birthday is the job that I just spent all day trying to get stuff in place for. I'm being vague on purpose because I don't want to hype up something that might not even happen. If I got this job, my life would change radically for a bit, but I'm totally up for it. I think I have a good chance of getting hired. I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but the company seems interested in me. We'll see what happens. Till then, I'm sitting here crossing my fingers.

I really should go to bed. I want to be better by tomorrow night so that I can go to a little dinner party in the community kitchen. I think a whole bunch of people are going to be listening to music, cooking spaghetti, and drinking wine. I still have only met a handful of people in the building, so it would probably be a good idea to show up with some organic vegetables and mingle with people I haven't met yet.

But before I go to bed, I should mention something exciting that's happening in the blogosphere. I've joined forces with two great blogger friends, Tom and Allison. The three of us discovered that we were all going through the same 20something angst, so we created a little something called The Transatlantic Support Group. Check it out! It's still pretty new, but it's been turning out pretty cool so far. You might enjoy it (and possibly be able to relate to it). :)

Anyway, that's all I've got. That bottle of Nyquill by the bathroom sink is calling my name. More interesting/coherent post next time, I promise. :)

Over and out.

Mmmm...Vinegar...

Bleck. Still feeling sick. Scheduled a doctor's appointment for the earliest time available - Friday morning. In case you haven't noticed, today is Monday.

Determined not to spend another week under the command of a miserable headache, I Googled my symptoms, diagnosed myself with the help of Wikipedia, and got started on some weird home remedies I read about on WebMD. Really hope I'm on the right track with this. Otherwise I just drank eight ounces of vinegar water in vain. Yum-o.

The Michael Cera-esque Representative of the Indie Dance/Rock Band has not called me yet. Probably a good thing. He might smell the vinegar on my breath through the phone and decide that I'm too awkward for indie rock.

Then again, is there really such a thing as being too awkward for indie rock? Last time I checked, awkwardness was one of the core principles the entire indie scene was founded upon.

On a completely unrelated note, I'm thinking of adding some sort of reoccuring weekly theme to this blog. You know, something along the lines of dedicating every Tuesday to reviewing a new band I've discovered or posting a witty anecdote every Thursday. I haven't quite come up with my angle yet. I would love to hear what you guys think.

Here are a few ideas for possible weekly posts I could start:

- Songwriting Sunday: Once a week I put up a new (or old) song that's in the works.
- Flashback Friday: I tell a funny story about what a ridiculous geek I used to be. Maybe I'll even reminisce about various moments in pop culture and how I was affected by them.
- Awkward Wednesday: My life is really just an ongoing string of awkward moments. Perhaps I'll share one of these moments with you every Wednesday.
- Bad Movie Monday: I dedicate Monday's post to movies so bad, they are good.
- Music Monday: I dedicate Monday's post to music that I think the world should know about.

Anyway, those are just some ideas. Don't worry, this blog is not going to go gimmick happy - I'm only going to pick one of those options (if that). This is the part where YOU tell me what you want to read about on here. Any of those sound appealing? Apalling? Got any better ideas? Or is the reoccuring weekly feature too cliche?

Help me, Obi Wan Kanobe! You're my only hope!

Gah, I think that vinegar is doing weird things to my brain. No more home remedies for me.

Good Boyfriend. Bad Movie. Fabulous Band Photos.

I've been feeling pretty sick lately. Bleck. I hate going to the doctor, but I think I'm going to break down and go see one tomorrow. Intense headaches that last for five days straight aren't really that normal. I'm sure it's just some virus or something. I'll get some meds and be good to go.

Steve came to see me yesterday. I warned him that I wasn't going to very much fun, that I was Sicky Sickerson, but he came over anyway. He even brought over a bad horror movie from the eighties! It was so wretched that it's currently out of print - he tracked it down on the Internet and downloaded a copy, complete with Swedish subtitles.

Yeah, Steve is kinda awesome. It's not everyday that you meet a guy who shares your love of cheesy horror movies and will spend his day-off watching them with you.

And now we've both seen "Silent Night, Deadly Night 2." It was so bad it was good.

If you like bad acting, terrible dialogue, awful synthesizer music, cheesy gore, and expressive eyebrows, this film is worth tracking down. Or you can just save yourself a painful two hours and watch this twenty second clip:

GARBAGE DAAAAY!

Oh man I'm a nerd.

Steve also brought over the disc full of band pictures our friend Mike took for us. Actually, that's what this post was supposed to be about, but then I got sidetracked.

So, here some of the pictures that Mike took/edited for us (he's got a lot of talent - you can check out his other work at http://www.michaelknightphotos.com/). I know I put up a preview of these a while back, but here are some more:

What thinketh you? Do we look like a real band yet? :D

That's all for now. Time for Lauren to take a nap!

Happy Friday!

Here's a song we wrote a few months ago. It's about our favourite topic - the end of the world! Enjoy. :D



The world better not end before this rock tour adventure goes down. That's all I have to say.

On a completely unrelated note, Amanda Palmer tickets go on sale tomorrow! Gah, I am such a fan girl. But the idea of seeing her perform live seriously makes me giddy.

In other news, I am still sick. I slept all morning and will now attempt to eat ramen noodles. Life is so exciting today.

Thursday Ramblings

Sick Lauren. So hawt right now.


Tis a glorious sick day. I haven't bothered to get out of my pajamas yet. I'd like to think I'm getting better though. After all, I ate a piece of toast and lived to tell about it.

I've made the most of my time by doing a little homework and watching all of the videos in the "Who Killed Amanda Palmer" collection. I also sent an email to a band we might open for on the east coast. I asked for recommendations of venues to play over on that side of the world. I signed my name under the words "Peace, Love, and Disco" and sent it into cyberspace.

Then some guy I went to high school with IMed me out of the blue to tell me he likes my music. I chatted with him for a little bit and found out he's playing in a ska band now. He's also planning a tour this summer and told me that booking shows in New Mexico and Texas is rough. I had heard from a couple of different sources that the music scene in Texas was not great but this confirmed it. There are only two sticky notes in Texas on my map. One represents friends of a friend and the other says "STRANGER DANGER" with the name of someone I met on the Interwebs ("put me on the map but i am stranger danger!" he wrote...oh how I love having friends that live in my computer screen...). So we can probably skip Texas.

I think we're headed more towards Oklahoma anyway. We may have to go through a little bit of Texas to get there. Depends on which way we go. There's probably not much of a music scene in Oklahoma either. But my good friend Nancy lives there and she informed us that we are coming to Oklahoma even if we have to do a show in her living room. Sounds like a good time to me. Nancy's sticky on the map gets a star by it.

Ryan and I really just need to sit down with a map and hammer out a route. We also need to do a lot of research about where the good music scenes are. We keep saying Portland to Portland, but there's a lot of different ways we can go.

There's also the option of coming back through Canada. It sounds sexy in theory, but the more I think about it, the more I ask myself this question: What the hell is in Canada?

I'm trying to think of an answer to that question that doesn't involve the phrase "lots of grizzly bears."

Though Original Sound Trash is all about being unique and reaching out to new audiences, I don't know how I feel about playing for grizzly bears.

Who knows though. There's gotta be something cool in Canada. Commence Internet research. Yah!

Dude. I should take another nap or something.

Have a glorious Thursday, friends!

Peace, Love, and Disco,
Me!

Inspiration

Bleck. Not feeling like a rock star today. Am all congested and crampy and headache-tastic. No amount of Tylenol or cold medicine is making me feel like leaving my room. But I have to soon. I have to give a presentation tonight. It's a group presentation on a topic I have no interest in for a class that's required for graduation (this just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?). And tomorrow morning, I have an important meeting that I need to be not-sick for. I always get sick at the worst times.

I was in a pretty terrible mood last night. I left work early, got in my sweatpants, and devoted the evening to editing a boring video for the presentation I have to give tonight. I texted Steve but he was busy. I looked at the food in my cupboard and decided I didn't want to cook. I munched on a soda cracker. I refreshed my facebook page and discovered that one of my favourite artists, Amanda Palmer, has finally been dropped from her record label! She's been caught in a legal battle with them for a long time and finally won. To celebrate, she gave all of her fans a free song. The song was about doing whatever you want regardless of what people think, and it made me grin.

The download even came with a bundle of pictures of her and her friends recording it.

I'm going to sound like such a fan girl, but I officially love Amanda Palmer.

I could have gone to bed happy after the free song. But then I discovered that Amanda and friends were doing a live webcast to toast her freedom. So poured myself another glass of juice, got under my favourite blanket, and tuned in on UStream to watch Amanda Palmer, Sxip Shirley, and Jason Webley drinking wine and playing music on the other side of the country. They had to be quiet because they were at Amanda's parents' house in the suburbs, so they snuck outside and played "Love Will Tear Us Apart" in the woods. It was like The Blair Witch Project with a strange punk cabaret twist and it totally made my night.

This is why I love music. This is also why I love the Internet. But mostly, I just love music.

Artists like Amanda Palmer remind me why I love music so much. Her music is honest, witty, and generally just rocks. She's coming to town in May for her Evelyn Evelyn tour. Trash rock tour madness doesn't start till June, so I'll be able to go!

Not that I need to be spending money on shows right now, espeically after last weekend. But...it's Amanda Palmer!

And last weekend was Muse! Totally different creature than Amanda Palmer, but absolutely brilliant.

Actually, it may have just been the best concert I've ever been to.

Yes, better than the time my rock concert virginity was taken away by They Might Be Giants. Better than being pressed up against the stage at The Kooks or being punched in the arm at Apocalyptica. Possibly even better than being caught under a mushroom cloud of marijuana smoke with my mom at The Wailers last summer.

Those were all fantastic but this...this was MUSE.

This picture was taken with Steve's iphone. No zooming involved - we really were that close!

This is the expression I wore during most of the show:

I kinda look like I just peed my pants with excitement or something. I swear I didn't. But Muse blew my mind a little bit.

I left the show fantasizing about playing stadiums and doing big budget shows involving lights, fog, lasers, and moving platforms. I also spent too much time looking at keytars on ebay. I've always secretly thought they were cool, but when Matt Bellamy whipped one out during "Undisclosed Desires," it made me really want one.

Matt Bellamy, why do you have the ability to make everything you touch turn into sexiness?

I wish there was a universe in which it was at least semi-practical for me to buy a keytar at this point in my life...