Tag Archives: seasons

Change is good.

We’re getting to the truly crazy point in my last semester in college. I have just over 21 days left to me before my first draft is due to be submitted to the division. Yet even as my headspace is becoming more and more manic (termed the “crazy steady state” by a charming duo), I’m still managing to take good care of myself, with a good amount of help from some beloved friends. Musical therapy doesn’t hurt either.

The reason I’m here is because I’ve had a couple of serendipitous afternoons, walking down the hill from the coffeeshop to campus, where the shuffle setting on my iPod has rewarded me and coincided perfectly with the fleeting sunshine. And maybe between my slightly manic state of mind and the thin warmth from the spring light, I’ve developed a higher tolerance for pop-y covers and remixes, replete with handclaps and toy xylophone. In any case, the changing of the seasons from gray to gold is what I need and these few covers seem to be the perfect soundtrack, no matter their creative merit. Timing is, after all, everything.

Feist — Lonely Lonely [Frisbee’d Remix]

I’ve been revisiting Open Season. I only love few tracks off the album — this one, and then also the k-os remix of “Mushaboom,” since its freestyle contains some endearing Feist/Broken Social Scene references. Good cherry blossom music.

Thom Yorke — Atoms for Peace [Four Tet Remix]

The perfect combination.

Miles Fisher — This Must Be the Place (Na├»ve Melody) [Talking Heads Cover]

Talking Heads holds the special-est of places in my heart. If it weren’t for them, Reed College would not be what it is. I can say that much with certainty. I’m looking at you, “crazy steady” duo.

Anyhow. I know some of you will think this is blasphemous. Whatever. Embrace it. And happy March/thesising.


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Walking home tonight with Leslie was funny in that I realized I probably haven’t been outside around this hour for about a week now. And it’s noticeable. The light’s changing, it’s darker now. Not only that, but we have clouds. Clouds. And not just clouds, but weather that threatens moisture (!). When we were driving home last weekend from San Gimignano, I noticed beginning stains of crimson across the leaves in the wine vineyards, starting to spider outward and spread. This past Sunday, the day that Leslie and I found a sustainable food market (i.e. largest concentration of hippies in one place I have yet to see in Europe) and the day that we both contracted the plague (that’s a story for the next post), I kept seeing leaves twirling downward onto the sidewalk we were walking on. Mostly what I wanted to say is this: somewhere in the last week, somewhere in between going to San Gimignano and standing at the top of a tower caught between Siena and Florence and staring (and staring and staring and sighing) at the rooftops of both, somewhere between spending the better portion of three days in bed while my baby host-newphew made baby noises all around the apartment all afternoon every day, making the apartment even cosier than it was before — somewhere in between all of that a schedule clicked and the season changed officially. What a fulfilling point in time that combination can be.

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