Thursday, September 27, 2012

the gentler side of mankind's death wish



To be honest, there's a whiff of arrogant yet self-deprecating affectation about Father John Misty. His lyrics are clever, fun and sometimes moving, though I'm not sure how to interpret his attitude to women.

But he has got one hell of a voice. He is also an absolutely charismatic, beguiling performer (with top dance moves) and his album is compulsively listenable. I particularly enjoy this song for its wry little message.

Now I'm Learning to Love the War, Father John Misty

Try not to think so much about
The truly staggering amount
of oil
that it takes to make a record
All the shipping,
the vinyl,
the cellophane lining
The high gloss
The tape and
the gear

Try not to become too consumed
With what's a criminal volume
of oil
that it takes to paint a portrait

The acrylic,
the varnish
Aluminum tubes filled with latex
The solvents and dye

Let's just call this what it is:
The gentler side of mankind's death wish
When it's my time to go
I'm going to leave behind things that won't decompose

Try not to dwell so much upon
How it won't be so very long
from now
that they laugh at us for selling
A bunch of 15-year-olds
made from dinosaur bones
singing "oh yeah"
Again
and
again
Right up to the end

I'll just call this what it is:
My vanity gone wild with my crisis
One day this all will repeat
I sure hope they make something useful out of me

A superior sound quality version is found on his album Fear Fun.

Father John Misty lives here.

Sunday, September 23, 2012

ffor the love of fforde

I would that you'd excuse me my absence. I'm on something of a reading binge. A re-reading binge. A Ffordian, Thursday Nextish re-reading binge. I began with the latest release, The Woman Who Died A Lot, and then had trouble recalling the rest of the series (I suspect a mindworm) and the rest is the last week of my reading history.

First Among Sequels not pictured, and One of our Thursdays is Missing is missing, but you can read a review here.

This series is just delightfful. And so clever. The idea is that Thursday Next is a Literary Detective with SpecOps. They police things like counterfeit Shakespeare plays, bootleg copies of Dickens and stolen manuscripts. But it's when Thursday realises that she has the ability to actually enter books and interact with the characters within that it really gets interesting. The world Fforde has built is bonkers: it's an alternative world where the Crimean War is still ongoing, Wales is a socialist republic, people travel by airship or these ace Gravitubes (UK to Australia in about 45 minutes or so), cheese is a rare commodity - sometimes smuggled illegally across borders - and, best of all, people prize books and literature above most things.

Wouldn't you love a tv series based on these books? I know I would. Kind of Doctor Who meets Lost in Austen with a dash of Life on Mars via your local bookshop.

Thursday, September 6, 2012

shelfspy #1

The girl formerly known as The Intern - the real actual Hilary - posted a picture of her bookshelf today. She stopped herself from editing the shelf for her audience, showed it in its real state. It's a funny thing to be intrigued by, in some ways, but it's really fascinating to have a peek at someone's books, how they're arranged, which books look familiar, which ones don't. She said she would like to see other people's bookshelves...

So here, my little nosey parkers, are mine. I photographed them exactly as they were when I got home this evening, I swear. There are many embarrassing books in here, as well as some ace ones. I haven't read them all.

let the wild rumpus start!

once i won trophies for being good at sport. har har.

includes a 'to do' list. and a 'saving-up-for-paris' tin.

the shelves a 21st present from the grandwrinklies,
made from floorboards of a gold rush era pub.

Compared to Hilary's spartan shelves I feel like a mad crazy subject from the tv show Hoarders. I've been living in my current house for five and a half years, which is the longest I've lived anywhere since I left my childhood home in 2001. For five of those years I worked in a bookshop. This is my excuse.

Also, I am something of a hoarder...

Show us your shelves!