Saturday, May 05, 2007
California Soul
SweetPeaWatch - Day 35.
Nothing can stand in the way of the bluebells and their unstoppable march to conquer, well, just about everywhere.
In the fading light of evening they seem to emit an electric blue glow, as if they're conspiring over which part of the garden to colonise next, which of course is all of it.
Girlfriend stands and shouts at them, shaking her fists and threatening them with eviction, but I've become hypnotised by their delicate loveliness. It's all a bit Dr. Who.
The clematis is out now and looking just like clematis should. I'm very proud.
My mission for this Bank Holiday weekend is to produce a load of compilation CDs of sunny driving music: the sort you might listen to if you were, say, going on a California road trip, starting in San Francisco, heading up the Highway One coast road to Mendocino, then turning south through the Napa Valley - "Quaffable. But far from transcendent" country - Yosemite National Park, Fresno, San Luis Obispo, then back north via Carmel, Monterey and Santa Cruz until you found yourself back in San Francisco, just in time for an open air Arcade Fire show.
The mark of a real man is whether he gives good compilation, and mine will include a lot of The Byrds, Lemonheads, Decemberists, Death Cab For Cutie, Arcade Fire, Rilo Kiley, Jenny Lewis, Johnathan Rice, Blue Oyster Cult, Neil Young, The Thrills, Smokey Robinson, Steely Dan, American Music Club, Killers, Springsteen, Prefab Sprout, Joni Mitchell and lashings and lashings of delicious Teenage Fanclub. And goodness knows what else. It's quite an adventure in it's own right.
I expect there'll be Goldfrapp too. Alison Goldfrapp and I are in love and deeply happy together, though she doesn't know it yet.
What a lucky twerp I feel today. How the hell did that happen?
Nothing can stand in the way of the bluebells and their unstoppable march to conquer, well, just about everywhere.
In the fading light of evening they seem to emit an electric blue glow, as if they're conspiring over which part of the garden to colonise next, which of course is all of it.
Girlfriend stands and shouts at them, shaking her fists and threatening them with eviction, but I've become hypnotised by their delicate loveliness. It's all a bit Dr. Who.
The clematis is out now and looking just like clematis should. I'm very proud.
My mission for this Bank Holiday weekend is to produce a load of compilation CDs of sunny driving music: the sort you might listen to if you were, say, going on a California road trip, starting in San Francisco, heading up the Highway One coast road to Mendocino, then turning south through the Napa Valley - "Quaffable. But far from transcendent" country - Yosemite National Park, Fresno, San Luis Obispo, then back north via Carmel, Monterey and Santa Cruz until you found yourself back in San Francisco, just in time for an open air Arcade Fire show.
The mark of a real man is whether he gives good compilation, and mine will include a lot of The Byrds, Lemonheads, Decemberists, Death Cab For Cutie, Arcade Fire, Rilo Kiley, Jenny Lewis, Johnathan Rice, Blue Oyster Cult, Neil Young, The Thrills, Smokey Robinson, Steely Dan, American Music Club, Killers, Springsteen, Prefab Sprout, Joni Mitchell and lashings and lashings of delicious Teenage Fanclub. And goodness knows what else. It's quite an adventure in it's own right.
I expect there'll be Goldfrapp too. Alison Goldfrapp and I are in love and deeply happy together, though she doesn't know it yet.
What a lucky twerp I feel today. How the hell did that happen?
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