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Bug in the woods.

May. 16th, 2008 | 09:41 am

Bug in the woods.
Originally uploaded by styrene_poly
This is the first picture that Adam took with his new Nikon D40. Impressive, no?

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I haven't been on here in quite some time.

Jul. 5th, 2007 | 10:26 am

That's an understatement. Hello all three of my Livejournal friends. How are your summers going?

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Friday morning and the furance is broken

Dec. 1st, 2006 | 12:30 pm

I'll be a block of ice before noon if someone doesn't do something fast! I have been on a popular movie kick this week. I saw three movies that are still in the theaters in one week which I haven’t done in ages. The three movies were The Fountain, Stranger Than Fiction and Casino Royal. Each movie was totally different from the other which is why they have all found a place in my short term memory. I notice that post punk soundtracks have been pretty ubiquitous this year. Stranger Than Fiction and Marie Antoinette both boast soundtracks that would make a honest to goodness 1982 New Romantic cry with recognition. I was crying too but that’s because I realized that lots of my post punk CD’s have disappeared without a trace over the past couple of years. Too bad that some conglomocorp didn’t invent an individual item version of “The Clapper.” If such a thing existed I would secretly slip the device into anything I let my friends borrow and then a year later when they claimed they gave it back to me all I would have to do would be to clap my hands together in rapid succession proving them to be vicious liars of the worst kind. I bet that would win me a lot of respect amid my circle of friends.

I am going to Italy next May with my Aunt Fran who is kind of like my older sister. We grew up in the same house together until she went away to college. In the meantime, I had the pleasure of getting into her stuff the way she had gotten into my mothers stuff some fifteen years earlier. My aunt claims that she used to find tiny teeth marks in her flavored lip gloss. I can remember well the days spent sitting outside of her room, just waiting for her to leave so I could sneak in and go through her stuff. But I digress. We are going to Italy in May and we are going to head down to Sicily to get some family documents that will give us some idea of how old distant relatives were when they came to the United States. We already have the itinerary set, where we are going to stay and what we are going to see on each day of the journey. My goal before we arrive next spring is to try to read through what may or may not be considered to be important works of Italian literature. I have already read parts of Machiavelli’s "The Prince" and some of Dante’s "Inferno". I kind of want to get into more modern stuff but don’t have a clue where to start. I like Italo Calvino but have only read "If On A Winter’s Night A Stranger". I wonder if you guys might know of any other good Calvino books or Leonardo Sciascia who is another modern Italian author? I was reading this essay on Calvino by Gore Vidal the other day in his State of the Union compendium. I guess it’s not too unusual in Italy for authors and artists to become members of parliament. Apparently Calvino kept turning down requests to run for office but Sciascia accepted and was embroiled in some kind of Italian socialist scandal. Lovely. Can you imagine the popular authors of the day in the United States running for office? It would be Clive Cussler neck in neck with John Grisham or Sue Grafton. Perhaps we wouldn’t be so badly served. I bet Stephen King has some interesting political leanings.

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I'm alive

Nov. 30th, 2006 | 11:10 pm

And eating Mars bars like there is no tomorrow. Stupid Mars bars.

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Early Morning Cold Taxi

Sep. 29th, 2006 | 07:21 am

Last week my patience was rewarded when I went to the mailbox and pulled out the Emergency zines that I had ordered from Microcosm Publishing earlier in the month. I have been reading Ammi Emergency’s group of semi-autobiographical zines in order. That would be a no brainer for most normal people who like to do things in order. To be more accurate I should say that I have been rereading Ammi Emergency’s zines starting with # 3 and making my way to # 5. I hadn’t read #5 before because when I was first introduced to Ammi’s $2 a copy brand of truth telling and heartbreak she hadn’t produced #5 yet. It was just a glimmer in her creative eye or perhaps she was laboring over her product carefully, finding the right words to convey all of the emotions she chose to put on paper to represent one year of her wonderful, horrible, amazing life. Wonderful, horrible and amazing. Clichés, clichés. I can’t write in anything but clichés. Fortunately, there are some people who are not afflicted by this. Ammi Emergency is one of those people.

Her last two zines, Emergency # 4: Monsters and Emergency # 5: The Ocean and the Hills have dealt specifically with themes of loss. In issue 4 she talks about two major losses she experiences in one year. First there is the morning she wakes up in New York City to find that the twin towers have been set ablaze literally a stones throw from her front window. She gets caught up in the rush of panic and then watchful anxiety that settles over the country in the days following the September 11th attacks. She talks about loss in terms of security, the false sense of safety on American soil that suddenly has the country reconsidering its seemingly impermeable boundries. She talks about loss in terms of the sorrow that her government will inflict on a great many innocent people overseas in the name of "justice". She talks about the feeling of helplessness that comes in wartime with not knowing what will happen and to who. About how it feels to not know where her loved ones are during the attacks and how it will feel for the people overseas who will be thrown into perpetual uncertainty in the coming years of a seemingly endless war.

The second part of her zine relates the sudden and violent loss of her friend Sera. She met Sera while squating in a commune in New Orleans (which I think she still does on and off) but who, unbeknownst to both of them, grew up only two streets away from her in her small, suburban hometown in New York State. Sera jumped off of a bridge on a cold January morning in 2002. In a very unliterary fashion (Sera wrote for a couple of zines including Slug N’ Lettuce) she didn’t leave a suicide note. Ammi writes about what it was like to live with the ghost of her friend in the months after her suicide. She and another friend start the “Sera is Dead” tour, traveling for several months with the final destination being the bridge that claimed Sera's life. She writes about feeling Sera sitting next to her on trains (they hop trains and hitchhike to ,I think, Georgia?) and in the back of cars. She writes about how a couple of months into the trip she cannot hear Sera any more, cannot feel her sitting next to her and how the grief starts anew. She writes about mourning the loss of a childhood and teenage years they could have spent together, and the cruel fate that kept apart the only two punk girls in town. The fate that made them feel like they were the only ones of their kind in the suburbs.

I really like how she describes the loss of what could have been. I have been feeling the same pangs lately though they've come from a differnt source. It's the what-if-we-never-broke-up game and I have been spinning the wheel in my head, seeing which peg will light up when I get nostalgic for relationships long past their prime. All of a sudden I find myself wondering what parter X is doing now or how his mom is faring. I hear she was diagnosed with cancer last year and I wonder if it would still be OK to send a card or if it would just be considered plain crazy.... My last boyfriend and I dated for almost seven years, from the ages of nineteen to twenty six. It's crazy to think that someone who I spent so much time with, who knew me back when I was so shy that I could barely form a sentence is now gone. He's gone and I know it sounds melodramatic because he's not dead but for all that he means to my life now or in the future he may as well be. And I may as well be dead to him. He's an adult living and adult life and doing very adult things like getting engaged to his girlfriend. Adulthood, another challenge, another set of expectations to be laughed at and set ablaze with the subtilty of a blowtorch. I guess this is how adulthood feels; it feels like absolute freedom and absolute loss. Sometimes I wish I could run back into the safety of that relationship because it would mean that all of those years would still be there. It would be like running backwards in time, like running fast enough to connect the present and the past and finding the person who links both waiting right where you left them. I find myself taking a lot of comfort from this thought. That it could be that easy and if I so chose I could be nineteen again standing right next to another person who totally and completely understands what I mean before I even open my mouth.

It's been a year and a half since we broke up and it's taken me almost this much time to start understanding exactly what I lost when I made the choices I did. I'm not saying that I would take them back. For gods sake, I'm so stubborn that even if I did regret everything I would do it exactly the same way just to prove that I did it exactly right the first time. Except I don't regret all of it. I only regret being the type of person whos brain keeps circling around those phantoms who claim so much of time lately. Ammi talks about harboring monsters that motivate her to write and travel. These monsters are the ones that keep her drunk, make her destructive, sneak up and whisper loathsome realities in her ear. They are the same ones that drive her creative impulses. I'd venture to say that ghosts, like monsters, can prompt acts of creation or destruction. Like Ammi, it takes me the luxury of hindsight to realize what was really going on during the times I have knocked over the most graves, which ghosts I’ve picked up along the way and which I’ve managed to get rid of. My ghosts are not uncommon but they are mine. My ghosts are the memories of people and places.

My friends are moving to Pakistan on Saturday. One friend is joining her old life, her family and friends back home who have been carrying on with their lives, minus her, for the past six years. In six years she has gained a piece of paper stating that she is able to carry out the duties of a college educated individual in the areas of business management and art history. She has gained a husband, an Italian American man who believes in Zen Buddhism and the beauty of philosophy texts. What she has lost is her father, her grandfather, her ability to believe in herself and her own competence and in some respects her identity. For awhile after she lost her father she temporarily lost her mind and gained an unwanted insight into the process and workings of America’s psychiatric institutions.

Her husband is losing a family and a country but gaining a new one as well as an opportunity to recreate himself. He will recreate his identity as an American in Pakistan who has never been any further from home than the Midwest. In a way she will be recreating herself too. She will be creating her adult self in the space of a permenantly altered family unit. Her adult self in her country will be defined not only by her accomplishments but by the loss of her father. I was thinking about them when I was reading Ammi’s zines and I was thinking about them early this morning when I woke up terrified from one long dream about loss. I swung my feet over the side of the bed in the room where I spent my teenage years. I knelt down and started digging through the boxes of CD’s that they have entrusted to me during their absence. They also left me boxes and boxes of their books, some of which ended up on my bedroom floor and have now prompted me to finally purchase that bookshelf I’ve imagined owning for a long time now. No more lining the floor with piles of books of all sizes and descriptions. You guys deserve a proper home.

I’m glad that my friends trust me enough to leave me in charge of some of their most beloved and well-worn possessions. On a selfish note I must say that I’m pleased with the windfall of music and reading material. The night that they brought over the last of the boxes of CD’s I stayed up until 4 a.m. greedily sorting and stacking the piles in order of importance. These are the piles of CD’s that I will listen to right away. These are the unidentified mixes that will get thrown into the rotation. These are the ones that I’ve heard of but never actually listened to. These are the ones that will remain out only for the days I get really nostalgic.

One of my friends moving to Pakistan has been calling me since the drop-off, arranging and rearranging lists of books she’s decided that she can’t live without. Every few days I get a call from her with a new list of titles she wants me to pull out for her. “Christina, I promise this will be the last thing I ask for.” I don’t mind these calls. In all honesty, I don’t know what the hell it’s like to pack up and leave a country after seven years even if the country isn’t the one you call home. Seven years is a long time. Seven years is more time than I’ve lived in one place. Not counting the times I’ve lived with my parents. I’m including childhood and teenage years in this equation. I don’t suspect the adult years will equal seven even if there was some magical pixie that granted me whatever wish I wanted if only I hit the seven year mark living with the ‘rents. Seven years is a long time to have to stare at the wallpaper that you picked out when you were ten.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, if I had to decide what was priority for me, which possessions I would leave behind and which I would take with me on a move of indefinate length to another country I would have as hard of a time as my friend. I’m not one to drop possessions without weighing each inconsequential detail from the item’s sentimental value to its irreplacibility and intrinsic significance in my life. I’m not one to drop possessions though I realized that in the past couple of years this has been exactly what I’ve been required to do. Moving back and forth from place to place I’ve left things behind, lost them in the move, or have forgotten about them all together. My favorite sweater, that book that I was reading that I never finished. Somehow, they’ve all disappeared. Sometimes they reappear suddenly as though they had never been gone. Years later you wake up and you find the book sitting on your bedside table, page turned down at the corner from that last day.

Sometimes you find people sitting exactly where you thought you had lost them all of those years ago. More often than not, once you lose them you don’t have the luxury of finding them again. If you do find them they usually look totally different from when you put them aside. Sometimes you don’t even recognize them. Sometimes, with relief, you lose them again.

Last night all of my dreams took place in open spaces outside and in total darkness. In each dream I walked from place to place, trying to get inside each place I stopped and not being able to for numerous reasons. Each time I only ended up somewhere that was no longer accessible to me. At first I found myself walking around my old elementary school trying to find a way in so I could sleep there. I remember feeling really tired in my dream and just wanting to go to sleep. I couldn’t find a door though I did find my friend Misty, a childhood friend who I would lose temporarily during my teenage years and then find again one summer day after our freshman year of college. I asked Misty what she was doing out so late and she said that she was hurrying to get home. I don’t remember saying goodbye to her. The next place I went was my grandmother’s cabin although instead of a cabin it was just a big grassy field with a fence. I was happy there for a while but then I realized that I only had a fence separating me from the rest of the world and in the dark without moonlight I didn’t feel too safe. The last place I found myself was my ex-boyfriend’s house. Well, it’s his parent’s house but we lived there together for about a year. It was still pretty dark when I reached the front door but it had started getting lighter. I walked into his house and greeted his family with big, crushing hugs. They were happy enough to see me and we talked for a little while. His mom was a little accusatory (totally contrary to what she’s like in waking life. If I had to wager a guess I’d say she’s headed for sainthood in the next couple of years. Minus, of course, the complex you probably get from being a saint and having to wear that stupid halo all the time). She told me that she had missed me and chided me for breaking her son’s heart. Then his fiancé (in real life) walked into the room and asked me in a polite, brittle tone if I knew how to find my way out. I said yes and stood up to go. My ex’s mom called over to me to come upstairs with her before I left. I followed her up the stairs to her room and she showed me a machine with pills that she hooked up to her arm every night before she went to bed. It was a machine that she used to cure her (in real life) cancer. I asked her how it affected her (in real life) diabetes. She looked at me and said it didn’t affect that specific disease at all though if she forgot to fill her machine with medication she would choke in her sleep and not wake up.

This, of course, is the part where I woke up with a vague sense of dread and my heart pounding, not remember anything and remembering everything in a jumble. I haven’t seen my ex’s mom or my grandma’s cabin since she passed away last summer. Actually, I think her death prompted both of those final visits. This summer I have been thinking about loss, about how I didn’t know when I was going through it but I knew exactly what it was. Or was it that I knew when I was going through it but I didn’t know exactly what it was? The theme of Ammi Emergency’s 4th zine really spoke to my life and my experiences in the last year in a way that it didn’t the first time I read it. This isn’t an indictment of her writing abilities (which are remarkably honed, honest and gut wrenching in a way I am trying to imitate but not pulling off) but an observation on the nature of change and loss, on its suddenness and on its inevitability. Sometimes I feel like I’m living the present in the past, like I’m creating a memory at the moment of its inception. Sometimes I know that the room I’m in or town or person I’m spending a lot of time with will be a memory, something gauzy and intangible when I recall it years later. Is it like this for everyone? I know they won’t be with me in the future and it’s like mourning the loss of a time and place and savoring it at the same moment. Sometimes I hate these feelings of impermanence, instant loss, knowing that the person I care most about today won’t be with me in a year or two years. I know it because I choose it and because ultimately I wouldn’t want it any other way. I could have stability and permanence. I could have the things that keep other people anchored, keep them working in one place and waking up next to one person day after day. I tell myself that if I wanted these things they could be mine. They don’t come because you fight against them, they come because you allow them. I guess that the losses I choose trump the ones that happen to me because I am always making choices and as long as I keep choosing, keep living the way I live and wanting and not wanting the things that give me purpose I will gladly take the unknown over the known and impermanence over stability. This isn’t a mission statement just an observation. Hell, maybe in a year it won’t be true and I’ll have to redefine myself again by what I have lost. Maybe this time there will be something gained in the process. Whatever. I’m tired. I’ve been writing since 5 a.m. I’m going for a walk and coffee.

Daggers and Skulls,

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Rain Rain Rain

Aug. 28th, 2006 | 10:31 am
music: Forever Changes by Love

I love working from home. I haven't changed out of my Misfits shirt and boxer shorts all weekend. I will not divulge how many days ago my underwear were new. Lets just say that ya'll would have a coronary if you knew. Good lord, I don't even have to brush my hair or put that goopy crap in it that keeps the frizz at bay. This bandanna is doing a nice job of keeping my mop out of eyeshot of the respectable world.

Now it's time for my first inane statement of the day. I had a moment of perfect happiness on Saturday when I was on the Amtrak train from New Haven to Windsor. Call me sappy. Actually, don't call me sappy to my face or i'll be compelled to write mean and only slightly untrue things about you in every ladies room in Connecticut. So anyway, back to this moment of perfect happiness. I was settled comfortably in my seat staring out of the window at the rain pelting the car. My brain was still stuck on Treasure Island which I had finished about fifteen minutes into the trip. I love well written stories especially adventure stories. I feel like I haven't read a good adventure story in a long time. I pressed play on my walkman and mouthed the words to Rush's "Closer to the Heart." I was unwashed and greasy. I felt like I was 10 years old. What a great feeling and what a weird set of memories that comes with going back that far into the recesses of your brain. I guess it's that feeling of complete safety that you have as a child that is so rare in adult life. It was a nice feeling if a little strange and all to brief.

I started reading Stones from the River yesterday. It was hard for me to get into because the story is really feminine. The main character is a little girl and the author is a woman and I relised that this is the first book I've read all year that is written by a woman. It's so weird that I could have gone half a year without reading one piece of fiction penned by a female. It's too bad because everything I want to read now is adventure or crime which aren't necessarily overly populated by women authors. I picked up Dumas's Count of Monte Cristo and Delilo's White Noise at Book Trader yesterday. $5.00 a piece. It sounds awful but I want to get done with Stones from the River as quickly as possible so I can move on to one of these books. I'm especially looking forward to Count of Monte Cristo 'cause I haven't read a good swashbuckling epic in a long time. I think that last one I read was Captain Blood and that was ages ago.

Another great thing about working from home is that I can do all sorts of useless stuff like posting to my live journal.

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Summer is almost over

Aug. 25th, 2006 | 01:32 pm

Which doesn't really mean anything to me as I don't have school to go back to or anything really significant to look forward to for a while. I am sitting at work trying to get my resume ready for mass distribution. September always gives me that sick to my stomach feeling that I used to get every time I thought about going back to school. It also makes me restless as hell. I feel like I should be starting a project or planning a trip. There was a well written article in the paper about a girl who hiked around the Adirondack Trail for five months last summer. I pulled myself off of Myspace because it take up too much of my time. I have no self discipline. Live journal is a little different only in that I have like five friends on here. I've already done as much spying as is possible on ya'll so I don't feel the need to come on here every ten minutes and see if you have posted anything new.

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New Haven, CT. Summer '06

Aug. 19th, 2006 | 10:14 am

I am staying at my boyfriend's place in New Haven this summer. Sometimes I take Metro North into work. This is what I see on the walk from the apartment to the train station.


The Workbench Collective

New Haven, summer '06

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Because I Am A Complete Dork Vol. 1

Aug. 19th, 2006 | 09:47 am

I index stuff for work. Specifically, I index books with African American content for an academic publishing house in Westport, CT. The names, dates, and author titles that I index are loaded directly into a database called The African American Experience. I could give you a little more history on the database but I'm heading in a different direction with this spiel.

Maybe I'll tell you a good bedtime story about the place I work next week.

When I began indexing I had no idea how taxing the effort to convert solid ideas into easily searchable terms would be. It took a lot of time and effort to understand how information is organized in a library catalog. So many silly rules that I railed against during those grueling first two weeks at work. To be perfectly honest I spent my first month organizing personal names. It's the easiest thing to teach someone and it provided me with solid, honest labor. Hughes, Langston, 1902-1967 and Johnson, James Weldon, 1871-1938 are just a few of the names that became my new companions. I found that the new orbit I had been sucked into was one of order and regiment. Everything could be checked and varified in the Library of Congress. Every entry that I made had a uniform appearance. No stray commas or periods, no quotation marks marring an otherwise completely respectable name. "Cool Papa" Bell became Bell, Cool Papa, 1903-1991. End of story.

Indexing mania slowly but surely crept into my life outside of work. One day I found it necessary to index every piece of music that I own. Without further ado I give you the results:

Christina's Anally Indexed Music Collection

P.S. That's a literal translation. Try using your ass to type some time. Brilliant!! ; >

4 by 4- Billie, Ella, Dinah, Sarah
400% Dynamite- Best of Reggae, Rocksteady and Ska
A Treasury of Performances- Enrico Caruso
A Treasury of Performances- The Golden Age at the Met
AC/DC- Highway to Hell
Aerosmith- Toys in the Attic
Alice Cooper- Billion Dollar Babies
Amadeus- Music from the movie Amadeus
Avenue Q- Soundtrack
B-52's- B 52's
Babes In Toyland- Fontenelle
Babes In Toyland- Nemesisters
Banazan Records- I’m With The Banned Comp
Bangs, The- Tiger Beat
Basement Jaxx- Kish Kash
Bauhaus- 1979-1983
Beastie Boys, The- Licensed To Ill
Beat Happening- Black Candy
Beatles, The- 1962-1966
Berlin- Pleasure Victim
Big Audio Dynamite- Best Of
Big Black- Songs About Fucking
Big Maybelle- Blues, Candy and Big Maybelle
Bikini Kill- Pussy Whipped
Bikini Kill- Reject All American
Bikini Kill- The First Two Records
Billy Idol- Vitol Idol
Black Flag- The First Four Years
Black Sabbath- Black Sabbath
Black Sabbath- Masters Of Reality
Black Sabbath- Paranoid
Black Sabbath- Sabbath Bloody Sabbath
Bloc Party- Silent Alarm
Blondie- Parallel Lines
Blondie- Autoamerican
Blondie- Eat to the Beat
Blondie- The Best of Blondie
Bob Dylan- Blood on the Tracks
Bow Wow Wow- The Best of Bow Wow Wow
Boys Lie- A Bunch of Punk Rock Girl Bands
Bravery, The- The Bravery
Breeders, The- Last Splash
British Sea Power- The Decline of British Sea Power
Broken Social Scene- You Forgot It In People
Bulworth- Soundtrack
Business, The- Harry May
Butterflies of Love- Butterflies of Love
Buzzcocks, The- Another Music in a Different Kitchen
Buzzcocks, The- Live at The Roxy- April ‘77
Buzzcocks, The- Spiral Scratch
Cabaret Voltaire- Colors
Cadillaca- Introducing Cadallaca
Cars, The- The Cars
Clash, The- London Calling
Clash, The- The Clash
Clockwork Orange- Soundtrack
Cole Porter Songbook- Tribute
Common Rider- This is Unity Music
Cramps, The- Greatest Hits
Crass- The Feeding of 5000
Creatures, The- Boomerang
Cure, The- Disintegration
Cure, The- Galore
Cure, The- Head on the Door
Cure, The- Show
Cure, The- Standing on a Beach (The Singles)
Damon & Naomi- More Sad Hits
David Bowie- Aladdin Sane
David Bowie- Black Tie, White Noise
David Bowie- Changesbowie
David Bowie- Heroes
David Bowie- Hunky Dory
David Bowie- Lodger
David Bowie- Low
David Bowie- The Collection
David Bowie- Young Americans
David Bowie- Ziggy Stardust
David Cross- It’s Not So Funny
David Cross- Shut Up You Fucking Baby
Dead Kennedys- Bedtime for Democracy
Depeche Mode- Black Celebration
Depeche Mode- Greatest Hits Vol. 1
Desmond Dekker- Israelites
Destiny’s Child- # 1’s
Devo- Hardcore Devo Volume 2
Dickies, The- Great Dictations
Dictators, The- Go Girl Crazy
Dillinger- Ultimate Collection
Dismemberment Plan, The- Emergency Plus 1
Don Letts Present The Best of Trojan, Vol 1
Doors, The- Best of The Doors
Doors, The- Morrison Hotel
Doris Day- The Magic of Doris Day
Edith Piaf- The Gold Collection
Edith Piaf- The Great Edith Piaf
Eels, The- Shoutenanny
Elvis Costello- Best of
Elvis Costello- This Year’s Model
Elvis Presley- Elvis Presley
Erase Errata- Other Animals
Faint, The- Danse Macabre
Fastbacks- New Mansions in Sound
Firesign Theater, The- How Can You Be In Two Places When You’re Not Anywhere At All?
Flipside Vinyl- Fanzine Vol. 3
Frank Black- Cult Of Ray
Frank Black- Frank Black
Frank Sinatra- Classic Performances
Frank Sinatra- Come Fly With Me
Frank Sinatra- The Capitol Years
Frank Sinatra- The Early Years
Franz Ferdinand- You Could Have It So Much Better
Fredrick Chopin- Piano Classics
Fredrick Chopin- The Best of Chopin
Fugazi- 3 Songs
Gang Of Four- Entertainment
Girls Against Boys- Venus Luxure No. 1 Baby
Greenday- Dookie
Groups of Wrath- Songs of the Naked City Comp
Guns N’ Roses- Lies, Lies, Lies
Gwen Stefani- Love Angel Music Baby
Happy Mondays- The Peel Sessions
Hole- Live Through This
Homosexuals, The- The Homosexuals CD
Huggy Bear- Taking The Rough With The Smooch
Interpol- Turn On The Bright Lights
Iggy and the Stooges- Fun House
Iggy and the Stooges- Raw Power
Iggy Pop- Lust For Life
Jam, The- All The Mod Cons
Jam, The- Snap!
Jam, The- This Is The Modern World
James- Best of James
Jim Carroll- Praying Mantis
Jimi Hendrix- Band of Gypsys
Jimi Hendrix- Electric Lady Land
Joe Meek- The Amazing World of Joe Meek
Johann Strauss- The Beautiful Blue Danube
John Lee Hooker- House of the Blues
Johnny Cash- Classic Cash
Johnny Cash- The Essential Johnny Cash
Jonathan Richmond and the Modern Lovers- Best Of
Joy Division- Peel Sessions
Joy Division- Substance
Judy Garland- The Platinum Collection
Kate Bush- The Whole Story
Killed By Death- Rare Punk ‘77
Kinks, The- Arthur (Or The Decline And Fall Of The British Empire)
L7- Hungry for Stink
Le Tigre- This Island
Leonard Cohen- Best Of
Leonard Cohen- Songs From A Room
Liz Phair- Exile in Guyville
Liz Phair- Whip Smart
Lookout Freakout- Lookout Comp
Los Filthys- 2 CD’s
Lovage- Music To Make Love To Your Old Lady By
Love- Forever Changes
Luciano Pavarotti- Live On Stage
Luciano Pavarotti- Volare
Lucille Bogden- Shave ‘Em Dry
Ludacris- Chicken and Beer
Madlib- Blunted In The Bombshelter
Madonna- Deeper and Deeper
Magnetic Fields- 69 Love Songs
Mahalia Jackson- Great Songs of Love and Faith
Makeup, The- Live At Cold Rice
Marc Bolan- Observations
Marcus Roberts- The Collected
Marianne Faithful- Broken English
Marinanne Faithfull- The Seven Deadly Sins
Marlene Dietrich- Art Deco
Marlene Dietrich- The Gold Collection
Massive Attack- Blue Lines
Memphis Minnie- Moonshine
Mercury Records- 45’s On CD
Meters, The- Cissy Strut
Miles Davis- Sketches of Spain
Miniwatt- Metropolis
Miriam Makeba- Miriam Makeba
Misfits, The- Collection
Missy Elliot- Missy E…So Addictive
Modest Mouse- Good News For People Who Like Bad News
Monkees, The- The Monkees Greatest Hits
Monty Python- Live at Drury Lane
Monty Python- Monty Python Sings
Morrissey- Best of Morrissey
Morrissey- Early Burglary Years
Morrissey- Vauxhall and I
Morrissey- Your Arsenal
Mother Love Bone- Mother Love Bone
Motorhead- Ace of Spades
Mott The Hoople- Mott
Mthembu Queens-Mthembu Queens
Munly & The Lee Lewis Harlots
My Bloody Valentine- Loveless
Naked Raygun- Basement Screams
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds- Murder Ballads
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds- Nocturama
Nick Drake- Way To Blue
Nina Hagen- Banned From East Berlin
Nina Hagen- Best of
Nina Hagen- Nunsexmonkrock
Nirvana- In Utero
Nirvana- Nevermind
Nitzer Ebb- Belief
Nitzer Ebb- Ebbhead
No New York- A Taste of DNA
Odetta- Odetta at Town Hall
Okay Players- True Notes Vol. 1
Patti Smith- Dream of Life
Patti Smith- Easter
Patti Smith- Horses
Pencilgrass- EP
Phyllis Curtin- Afro-Cuban and Latin Songs
Pink Floyd- Piper at the Gates of Dawn
Pixies, The- Surfer Rosa
Pixies, The- Trompe Le Monde
Pressure Cooker- I Want To Tell You
Pretenders- Pretenders II
Pretty Girls Make Graves- EP
Pretty Girls Make Graves- Good Health
Prince Buster- Fabulous Greatest Hits
Prince Buster- Madness/ Ghost Dance
Psychadelic Furs, The- Live 2005
Public Image Limited- First Issue
Public Image Limited- Greatest Hits So Far
Public Image Limited- Live In Tokyo
Public Image Limited- Second Edition
Public Image Limited- The Body
Public Image Limited- This Is Not A Love Song
Public Image Limited- This Is What You Wanted
Puccini- Great Arias
Punk and Nasty- Punk Comp
Punk You- Punk Comp
Queen- A Night At The Opera
Queen- At the BBC
Queen- Queen
Queen- Queen II
Queers and Pink Lincolns- Live at some Prick’s House
Queers, The- Too Dumb To Quit!
Radiohead- Hail to the Theif
Radiohead- OK Computer
Raincoats, The- Moving
Raincoats, The- Odyshape
Raincoats, The- Raincoats
Raveonettes, The- Chain Gang of Love
Raveonettes, The- Pretty In Black
Ray Charles- Standards
Red Aunts- #1 Chicken
Regina Spektor- Soviet Kitsch
REM- Lifes Rich Pageant
Replacements, The- Sorry Ma, Forgot To Take Out The Trash
Replacements, The- Tim
Rilo Kiley- Execution of All Things
Rocket From The Crypt- Scream Dracula Scream
Rolling Stones- Between the Buttons
Rolling Stones- Exile on Main Street
Rolling Stones, The- 12 x 5
Rolling Stones, The- Big Hits (High Tide and Green Grass)
Rolling Stones, The- Through The Past Darkly (Vol. 2)
Ron White- Tater Salad
Roxy Music- Best of Roxy Music
Roxy Music- Country Life
Roxy Music- Manifesto
Roxy Music- Roxy Music
Roxy Music- Stranded
Rush- 2112
Rush- Moving Pictures
Screeching Weasle- Wiggle
Scruffy the Cat- Tiny Days
Selby Tigers- Curse of the Selby Tigers
Sex Pistols- Never Mind The Bullocks
Sex Pistols- The Mini Album
Sex Pistols- We’ve Cum For Your Children
Sex Pistols, The- Mini Album
Sham ’69- Green Eggs and Sham Live
Simaryp- Skinhead Moonshine
Siouxie and the Banshees- Juju
Siouxie and the Banshees- Kaleidoscope
Siouxie and the Banshees- Once Upon A Time (The Singles)
Siouxie and the Banshees- Peepshow
Siouxie and the Banshees- The Peel Sessions
Siouxie and the Banshees- The Scream
Slant 6- Soda Pop Rip Off
Sleater-Kinney- All Hands On The Bad One
Sleepy La Beef- Nothin’ But the Truth
Slits, The- I Heard It Through The Grapevine/Typical Girls
Slits, The- In the Beginning
Slits, The- Peel Sessions
Smiths, The- Louder Than Bombs
Smiths, The- Strangeways, Here We Come
Smiths, The- The Queen Is Dead
Social Distortion- Mommy’s Little Monster
Sonic Youth- Bad Moon Rising
Sonic Youth- Washing Machine
Stiff Pole/ Far Out Comp- Pink Lincolns, Go To Hells, Crumbs, Against All Authority
Stills, The- Logic Will Break Your Heart
Strokes, The- Is This It
Strokes, The- Room On Fire
Suicidal Tendencies- Still Psycho After All These Years
Sun Records- 25 All-Time Greatest Hits
Surefire Records- Surefire Sampler
Swingin’ Utters- The Streets of San Francisco
T Rex- Electric Warrior
T Rex- Futuristic Dragon
T Rex- Light of Love/ Explosive Mouth
T Rex- Midnight/ The Groover
T Rex- T Rex Wax Co. Singles
T Rex- Tanx
T Rex- The Slider
T Rex- Unchained 1972 Part 2
T Rex- Zinc Alloy and the Hidden Riders of Tomorrow
Teengenerate- Smash Hits
Television- Marquee Moon
Thee Headcoatees- Have Love, Will Travel
Thee Snuff Project- Dyin’ Ain’t Much of a Livin’
Thermals, The- More Parts Per Million
This Is Art Deco- 30’s Music Comp
This Is Soca- Soca Comp
Thrice- Illusion of Safety
Thurston Moore- Psychic Hearts
Tyrannosaurus Rex- Beard Of Stars
Tyrannosaurus Rex- Unicorn
U2- Atchung Baby
U2- Boy
U2- How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb
U2- October
Vanessa-Mae- Storm
Vexers, The- Gangland Ballads and the Death Sex Set
Violent Femmes- Add It Up (1981-1993)
Violent Femmes- Violent Femmes
Violent Femmes- Violent Femmes
Washington Social Club- Catching Looks
Weezer- Maladroit
White Stripes, The- Sympathy For The Record Industry
White Stripes, The- White Blood Cells
Who, The- 30 Years of Maximum R & B
Who, The- 30 Years of Maximum R & B
Who, The- The Who Sell Out
William Burroughs/Kurt Cobain- The Priest They Called Him
Winchester Cathedral Choir- The Golden Age of English Cathedral Music
X- Live at the Whisky A Go-Go
X Ray Spex- Germ Free Adolescents
Yeah Yeah Yeahs- Fever To Tell
Yorke, Thom- Eraser
Young Marble Giants- Colossal Youth

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Letter from Sabrina

Aug. 4th, 2006 | 09:14 am
mood: calmcalm
music: Air conditioner

My friend Sabrina is in China. Since her life is infinitely more interesting than mine I am going going to post her latest letter here.

dear family and friends,
i hope this letter finds you well. i returned from my adventureing in
Thailand last monday and am eager to fill you all in on my trip. it
was wonderful. Thailand is an amazing country. The people are nice,
the food is delicious, everything is inexpensive, and the landscape
and arcitecture are beautiful. Todd and i spent nine days in total
traveling. We started out in Hong Kong and spent a night and part of a
day there before we flew to Bangkok. Hong Kong is an amazing city and
is so different than i imagined that i still think there must be a
different Hong Kong somewhere that is like the one in my head. We saw
the light show, every night at 8:00pm hong kong turns it's skyline
into a light show by making the buildings light up in different colors
and speeds for about half an hour and the whole thing is set to a very
crappy peice of futureistic music composed for just the occasion. It
really is amazing. i love the light show. then we stuffed ourselves
full of dumplings and explored the city. the next day we went to the
art museum and saw some beautiful drawings of tigers and a very old
etruscan (2nd century BC) pair of dice which look just like the dice
we use today which is pretty increadable. We also rode the ferry back
and forth between the islands and found a singular flag of hong kong
and took a picture of it. it is illegal to take a picture of the hong
kong flag by itself, the picture has to include the chinese flag
aswell. Then on to Thailand where we saw many buddahs. Bangkok is an
amazing city and we drank lots of fresh fruit juice from street
vendors and ate lots of pad thai and drank lots of thai iced tea. we
took a long boat ride through the canals in bangkok and saw a huge
lizzard. if i was going to live in bangkok it would be in the canals.
then on to a town called kanchanaburi where the bridge over the river
kwai is. we stayed on the river kwai in a hut that was floating about
30 feet from land and you could see the bridge from our hut. we rented
a motorbike which i drove and rode to a elephant park where we rode
elephants and fed elephants bananas and got kissed by a baby elephant
who played the harmonica for us. the next morning we saw a huge monkey
pod tree. there were lots of things on the map to see but i chose the
monkey pod tree. it was huge and beautiful. i made friends with a dog
there that i named charlie because he looks like a charlie. he was
very nice. then we went to the island of ko tao off of thailand and
went snokling through the most beautiful coral reefs i've ever seen. i
know i haven't seen that many. we spent a couple days there reading
the swiss family robinson and relaxing and then did the trip in
reverse back to zengchang china. so in conclusion if you were thinking
about visiting thailand, go. it's great.
So i've been meaning to write sooner but this past week at camp has
been bizzaro week which is the week that i got to plan and attempt to
excecute and i've been really busy. i don't feel like i got to sit
down all week. but i think it went really well. there were 18 kids
this week mostly korean, they spell it corea. most of the kids spoke
little to no english so it was a bit difficult to explain things
sometimes and i think they thought we were truely crazy but we have a
korean counselor in training so she helped explain things. we played
sink or float in the pool. we did an egg drop where they have to make
a container to keep an egg safe and then throw it out a thrid story
window. they had the added incentive of getting to smash it on tyler,
another councelor, if it survived the drop. we were mad scientists and
made bubbles with a combination of hydrogen peroxide and potassium
permanginate. we had opposite day where we walked backwards and lied
and wore our clothes backwards. we had christmas in july for a day. it
was very fun and very exhausting. there are only two weeks of camp
left and then we are going to go to tibet and western china for a
little over a week. cool ha. mongolia was too expensive but i think
western china will be really neat. i miss you guys and am looking
forward to seeing you in less than a month.
love, sabrina.
P.S. go to thailand.


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