"New Moon" Soundtrack

I will probably see the movie but I will definitely buy the soundtrack.

Bon Iver & St. Vincent? Thom Yorke? Are you fucking kidding me? Yes please.

I'm alive.

I moved to America when I was eight years-old. Unlike my American counterparts, I didn't know how to swim. Even though the Philippines is made up of 7,100 islands, I had never seen the beach or a swimming pool.

It was May when I landed in Dallas, TX, so learning how to swim was top priority. Everyday, my family took me to the apartment pool where I learned to swim underwater and doggy paddle--basically enough to enroll me in lessons at the YMCA.

My teacher there taught us basic strokes--freestyle, back stroke, and side stroke. I was good at side stroke, decent at back (though I swam into other lanes), but terrible, just awful at freestyle. Tilting, breathing, kicking, and stroking--all while trying to breathe in water--was too much for me.

In order to pass the class, we all had to jump into the deep end and freestyle down the length of the pool. We had to do this alone, one at a time, in front of the class. I passed, but just barely and it took me forever. It is, by far, the hardest exam I've ever taken.




Being a first-year teacher makes me feel like that eight year-old kid who is trying to catch her breath before going under again.

My favorite soldier

We are very proud of him.

500 Days of Summer

Some thoughts...

1. Joseph Gordon-Levitt
2. Summer Finn's trademark blue ribbon (it brings our her eyes).
3. The jumbled time line. (I didn't like it at first but all the jumps came together in the end)
4. Joseph Gordon-Levitt and his dance to You Make My Dreams (Hall & Oates) the morning after.
5. How Amber and I were surrounded by couples. 500 Days is the perfect date movie...hopeful yet realistic. Some parts are cheesy and a little too earnest but Gordon-Levitt and Deschanel are good at being cheesy and earnest so it works.
6. The soundtrack. Because of Ben Gibbard's liaison with Deschanel, I expected Postal Service or Death Cab to contribute. However, I wasn't disappointed by the roster. (She & Him, Temper Trap, The Smiths, Regina Spektor, Hall & Oates, Carla Bruni, etc.)

Behind the Counter

Counter Café is a long, skinny restaurant on the northwest corner of S. Lamar and 6th street. The interior is dark and cramped. The breakfast counter, where customers eat and watch the short-order cooks cook, take up most of the room and leaves only a narrow walking space between the bar stools and the row of two-tops hugging the west wall. It has a small staff, too small to accommodate the large volume of customers. While the food is above average, the service is slow and sub-par. After requesting a biscuit after we’d already given our order, (I forgot I needed a carb-sponge to soak up the egg yolk), she asked me if there was “possibly anything else I could want.” This is a common question in the hospitality industry. However, the question conveyed annoyance instead of a desire to please. Couldn’t I see that she was too busy to fetch forgotten food requests? This is true. She was busy. Regardless, as a waitress, it’s her job to wait on me. It’s not her job to teach me the polite way of ordering. She made me feel so bad that I poured my own coffee refill instead of troubling her for one.

The blueberry pancakes are the only reason I would come back. Fluffy and riddled with ripe fruit--they forced me to overeat. (Shocking, I know). My brunch companion was very disappointed with her Counter Eggs Benedict because the yolks were completely done. They looked like slimy marbles sitting on top of a biscuit. Blech.

The next time I crave blueberry pancakes, I’ll order from Counter Café, but I’ll get them to go.

Y’all Have a Good Night: Better Than The Van

“The worst experiences are earlier on,” Todd Hansen said. “I was in my early twenties, Fayetteville, AR. We played a really good club that’s not even there anymore. Somebody asked if we needed a place to stay and we said yes. He was living with his parents in a doublewide trailer a half hour away from the club. His dad had a machine shop where he did plastic injection molding. It was just cement floor in a big metal shed that was as big as this patio. That was it. ‘Y’all have a good night. Cement floor, enjoy!’”

A decade and 500 miles later finds Hansen sipping Fireman’s lager at UT hangout Spiderhouse Café, no longer burning asphalt in a ragged 1988 Chevy Conversion van (stripes on the side, no AC) van as a drummer for various rock bands. In the “Live Music Capital of the World,” where Austinites trip over musicians, Hansen’s drums sticks are still. Now, he’s parked behind a computer monitor, banging out the kinks of his website, BetterthantheVan.com, an online community that hooks up touring musicians with people offering free places to stay.

For the complete story, go here.

Thrice more with feeling

Both nights were hot as balls. Heat—especially at extreme temperatures—does crazy things. It can melt plastic, cause shiny sticky faces to suck down cold cans of Tecate and Lone Star beers, and it might even alter the physical properties of sound waves. Alright, the last point isn’t accurate. Temperature has no effect on the propagation of sound waves whatsoever. However, the humidity that pressed down like a warm wet rag felt like it was thick enough to slow down waves emanating from the stage. Even poppier songs like Cherry Bomb sounded limp and faint like they too were suffering from heat exhaustion.

(Click on Cherry Bomb for the full review on theDeli.com).