san carlos calling us, wherever we go.

By christa 17 March, 2006 best of loafe, vol 1, random

I’m dreaming of San Carlos, the beach and the water and the cerveza. Everyone moves under water, fluid and floating. Skin is brown, limes are tangy, sunsets are blazing. I miss the wide smiles and all those stars, so many they’re practically raining down on us. Life in san carlos is lazy sweet, warm and slow; the music is always happy, even when it’s sad, and we dance in our bare feet, with salty lips and sand in our hairs. We smell like people should smell, sun and ocean and calm seeping out our pores. The Mexicans like us, even if we don’t speak fluent Spanish. Everyone laughs in the same language anyway.

I’m a beach girl and I am about tired of trying to convince myself otherwise. I don’t care if I was born in Wisconsin, I’m a summer baby and I need warm oceans and friendly hearts. Listen deep alright; I hear my body and soul saying screw you boston.

Hear that? Screw you boston!

Besides, you hate Mexicans. You really hate us. And we hate you right back.

Now, to show that my interest in music isn’t just hipster stuff, there’s this song called “Wherever You Will Go” by a band named The Calling (I’m listening to it as we type). It’s a cheeseball song and I have no idea what other songs they sing. Heck, I don’t even know what he’s singing about in this song, but I really really like it a lo, almost to absurdity. It may have a little something to do with where I first heard it, in Love Actually, and I love that movie. But still.

Before you condemn me for being a music snob, just remember I like “Wherever You Will Go.”

Now to balance out the bad with the good and remind you that despite my occasional sonic lapses I’m still very hip, I reveal that I’m much in love with Neko Case and anything she’s involved in (such as the new pornographers); her new CD is divine. I am also interested in hearing Jenny Lewis’s new solo CD (of rilo kiley), which was released back in January but I have yet to buy or listen to it.

There. We should all be happy now.

bored of canada?

By christa 15 March, 2006 random

may I suggest then boards of canada?

a most excellent band you will surely love. these boards will banish your boreds for sure.

hahahah I love my jokes. I love them. boards vs bored. ha.

those brothers are darn cute, aren’t they? that’s fantastic. I love cute music boys.

also don’t you just love wikipedia.org? you could get lost there for days.

seriously though, boards of canada is some trippy goodness. They are my latest obsession. Make them yours too, won’t you?

Here is a passage from a book I’m reading and I feel like sharing it with you:
“All living things contain a measure of madness that moves them in a strange, sometimes inexplicable ways. This madness can be saving; it is part and parcel of the ability to adapt. Without it, no species would survive.” I am only on page 47 of this book, but so far it’s been a fabulous journey and I can’t wait to get into the thick of it.

stealing strollers

By christa 14 March, 2006 best of loafe, vol 1, random

I had a dream that I stole a green $800 stroller from some lady at a cafe, one of those bugaboo strollers. I just sort of sauntered up to it and carefully, quietly, gently walked away with it. After I stole it, I was rolling it around outside in a big parking lot, trying it out, seeing what the big fuss was about, and I accidentally knocked a bunch of little ceramic tiles off a street vendor’s table. The lady looked them over and said “oh you’re going to have to buy these now, they’re broke!” and I said okay, annoyed with myself. As we walked to the register, I looked through the rest of the box and said “but you have a bunch of broken pieces already! and you’re going to make me pay for these?” and she looked in and said “yeah I guess you’re right, never mind.”

It was a fairly boring dream, but it seems like there were symbols or messages or some statement of grand importance on those tiles, and now I can’t remember them. I want to know what they were, maybe it was a spirit telling me secrets about where to find buried treasures or something.

this dream reminds me of an exchange I had in Target recently. I bought a handful of items and my total came to $13.01. I looked in my pockets for change, but didn’t have any, so I just gave the bills to the cashier, resigned to carrying around $.99 worth of change. Then I looked down and saw a penny on the ground. yahoo!

“Wait!” I say. “Here’s a penny!” and I picked it up to hand to her. She stared at me, the bills in her hand, like I’ve just offered her the heads of three gorillas on a tray. Then she says, “I can’t take that.” And I looked at her, thinking I didn’t hear her right. “What?” I ask. She repeats, “I can’t take that penny.” And I thought for a second maybe she didn’t want to take it because she was one of those dumb cashiers who can’t make correct change in their heads and that whole extra penny, after I’d already given her my cash, just completely threw her off. I was prepared to explain a bit of math and change-making to her, but then I realized she hadn’t even punched the amount into the register yet, she’s standing there with the bills in her hand, looking at me.

So naturally I assumed she was speaking Mandarin and I said again, a little more clearly, “Here, here’s a penny, here…” and held it out to her. She said again “I can’t take that.” And I started getting annoyed, because it’s a fucking penny, not an atom bomb. I said “What? You can’t take this penny? Why not?” and not very nicely either.

She just shook her head, repeating, “I can’t take that.” Clearly I walked into the Crazy Nutjob Target and didn’t realize it. Instead of stabbing her repeatedly with my keys, I calmly said to her, “You’re not going to take it? What? I don’t understand. It’s a penny, you don’t take pennies anymore? What’s the problem here? Take the penny.”

She shakes her head, says, “No, I can’t take that penny. Not From You.”

HUH? Not from me? What the fuck is wrong with this woman? Did she see this penny fall out of someone’s asshole or something?

She’s looking at me like I’m trying to pull a fast one over her and I’m looking at her like the moron she is, wondering what the big deal was over this penny and what the hell is wrong with people and how on earth do people like this gets jobs in customer service anyway? The storm was gathering. I was two breaths away from tearing into this woman and releasing a litany of names when G managed to find another penny on the ground. He said, “Hold on, here I just found a penny, here!” and handed it to the woman. And she took it! She took the penny! She didn’t look happy about it, but she took it and gave me back my change. I gave her some more dirty looks before gathering my bag and leaving.

I have no idea what happened or what was wrong with that penny or that woman, but the end result is that we managed to get out of there alive. For that, I’m thankful.

the way it will shape us.

By christa 13 March, 2006 random

I think that one of the things I am most sad about right now is that RG doesn’t get to experience my friends. He’s almost 2 years old and he doesn’t know any of them. He did his first year of life, which I am grateful for, but that was more for me than him, because he doesn’t remember. It doesn’t matter how much I talk about them or show him pictures, he doesn’t know them, doesn’t see them, doesn’t get to learn from them and see how great they are and how the world is better with them around.

My friends are my family and I want to surround Ry with good people, and you can’t ask for a richer, deeper, better group. There is something so cool and essential to each one of them. I want that to rub off on my son. I want him to have the full spectrum of light, and right now I feel like he’s really missing out. I am in love with all my friends equally, but there are two that I’d like to talk about right now.

One is Morgan. I want the influence and love of all my friends, of course, but there’s just something about Morgan that I want Ry to know. I can’t put my finger on it, because Morgan is a special kind of guy, one that even I can’t categorize or label. You just have to know him. There isn’t one part or aspect to his personality that I can signal out. It’s the totality of his being. It’s really fantastic. Ry deserves to know him.

I was never really a very good person, so I don’t know how I ended up with Morgan in my life, but boy. Without him, I would have turned into something evil and wrong, much nastier than I am now, a dreadful person with a dreadful soul. And he did it without even trying. It’s truly amazing. He loves unconditionally, it could almost make you sick. And he is creative beyond belief. Not just musically, either, although really he’s a music genius and he doesn’t even know it, which makes it even more perfect. He’s honest and true, he is kind and decent and loyal and respectful. He’s so silly and goofy and easy-going, but don’t let that fool you, because he’s got a lot going on underneath. He’s supportive of just about anything and everyone and will forgive even the worse of transgressions. Because when Morgan brings you into his circle, you’re there to stay. He is my forever friend and the idea that Ry won’t know him is just so unnatural and scary. If Ry could absorb even half of what’s inside Morgan, I would consider myself a successful parent.

I am just so happy he’s around. I used to think that Tiffany didn’t deserve him, then for awhile I thought that he didn’t deserve Tiffany. But now, I don’t even think it’s about deserving. It’s more like…the world balancing out. Because at the end of the day, they love each other like no one else can. Tiffany sees in Morgan all that I see, and more. She appreciates him in the way that Morgan should be appreciated. And a girl who understands Morgan like that? Well, she’s a special kind of girl. It isn’t about deserving, it’s about finding.

The other person that I wish Ry knew is someone I aspire to be, because she never backs down, never gives up, never lets the world tell her to be anyone but herself. She’s someone I love so deeply that I cannot separate her essence from my understanding of love itself. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be here today wishing Ry knew her; there wouldn’t be a Ry, there wouldn’t be a me.

I don’t know, maybe it’s impossible for my family to ever be close with her family, because our lives have gone in vastly different directions, but her unending influence on me ensures that I raise my little guy in her image, and that is something that cannot be denied or undone. So even if he never knows her in the way that I desire, she is still a part of him, because they are both parts of me. She embraces all of life, and welcomes it with open arms, and for her, it’s the imperfections and flaws that make beauty and truth. Her passion is inspiring and her mothering is creating two of the most profound children I know.

If I were a house, Morgan would be my foundation. But the ground I am supported by would be Marianne.

Or if I were a tree, Morgan would be my trunk, and Marianne my roots.

Or if I were a television, Morgan would be my cathrode-ray tube (cause it will be a long time before my TV is anything but), and marianne my revered TiVo.

M & M = two kids who live, love and loafe every day.