So, that Gotye guy makes a song that is, I know, stuck in your head just from reading the title of this post. And a bunch of people cover it on YouTube. And so he remixes their covers into this.
People, this brought tears to my eyes. I was telling the Butcher a few days ago that I really feel like we’re living through a great moment in music, like everything I thought the early 90s was going to be like–strange and cross-pollinating and aware of its roots, but striving for new shit–but so far no one has come along to tell me that I can stick this cookie up my yeah! So, thanks for staying quiet, Fred Durst.
And this seems to me to be the best of what the future might be like. I make something. You respond. I respond to your response. We all feel like something strange and wonderful just happened.
It’s really great.
Radley Balko is having a fundraiser for Chris Tapp. It sounds like it’s going to be a fantastic time.
I know a lot of us have been mulling over whether we’re aging out of online feminism, whether it’s just not for us because the presumed audience excludes people like us, or what, so I’m really interested in seeing where Flyover Feminism goes. I’m especially glad it’s going to be a space to talk about defeats and frustrations. Not because I like to complain (I do!) but because I have been thinking a lot about what you do (or might do) when you realize there’s probably not going to be a satisfactory political outcome to the things that matter to you.
There must be some way to go on and to continue to fight. I’d like to know what has worked for other people.
Anyway, I have a couple of things in mind to submit, as soon as I have time to formulate them.
I’m read to get back to the office, even though the living room is still empty. Well, except for the TV. I don’t know why we didn’t bother to at least start to put the room back together yesterday, but we did not. Well, I know why. Because it caught up with us and we both fell asleep on the couch.
But I did mop the floor with Murphy Oil Soap and it smelled so good in here all day, like how I imagine a young Paul Newman smelled.
But I have no great thoughts on anything. All the fiction I try to write is people just trying to live through disasters, not proactively doing anything.
So, it’s time to get back into a routine.
Plus, I’m starting to feel a little down. Not for any reason. I think it’s just the sense of the days running together and having no order to them and the feeling like there can be no extra money spent, because we have to get these ceilings out. We just somehow have to come up with the money to do it.
NM told me that her sister told her to plan on spending about $500 a month in household disasters. And, you know, if someone had told me that when I bought the house, I would have laughed. There would have been so many months when that $500 never got spent that it would have started to seem like a joke. And yet, when I needed $5,000 to replace all the ceilings in my house?
I would have had it.
As it stands, I’m extremely fortunate to have y’all generously helping me with the living room and there’s some stuff we’re going to do without–like the rocking chair–or did ourselves–like paint and clean-up–so that we can put money immediately toward the den.
But anyway, no use crying over spilt milk. I have a week’s worth of email awaiting!