I was listening to The Cardigans' Super Extra Gravity again just now. Every few times I listen to this record, a new song grabs me, and this time it's "Don't Blame Your Daughter (Diamonds)".
(I think it's coincidental that it happened to also be the first song in my musical horoscope from the other day, but maybe it was subliminal and I'm just that easily influenced.)
Besides being a lovely song, the lyrics were what drew me in this time. I found the video on YouTube and it's also pretty interesting. If I can't come back in my next life as Stevie Nicks or Nancy Wilson, I wouldn't mind coming back as Nina Persson. I could be even more Swedish than I am now, sing beautifully, become a better songwriter as I get older, and oh yes marry the dreamboat supertalent Nathan Larson. Sign me up.
"Don't Blame Your Daughter (Diamonds)"
Don't blame your daughter
that's just sentimental
and don't blame your mom
for all that you've done wrong
Your dad is not guilty
you came out a little faulty
and the factory closed
so you can't hold them liable
You come from an island,
you're cutting diamonds
with a rubbery knife
Your autograph is worthless
so don't send me letters
and don't mail me cash
'cause your money is no good
What's left in your mattress
is holes and lack of love left
some hair from a horse,
and none of it is yours, man
You come from an island,
you're cutting diamonds
with a rubbery knife
And the song you sing today
wasn't always in your head,
the words you tryin' to say
are the ones you shouldn't 've said
they're glistenin' like diamonds,
go out and find' em
but don't blame your daughter
Read me your tombstone,
tell me you're sorry, fax me your will,
you owe me something still
Blood is like water
the bath that you poured me
has drained and it's gone,
don't blame it on your son
And the song you sing today
wasn't always in your head,
the words you tryin' to say
are the ones you shouldn't 've said
they're glistening like diamonds,
go out and find'em
The world is full of diamonds
go out and find'em
but don't blame your daughter
What's your musical horoscope? (Put your player on shuffle and write down the first 10 songs that come up.)
Hmm, I can't really make heads or tails of it. The Sufjan song is really throwing me off.
For free wi-fi and a tasty soy latte.
I usually don't post about a book until after I've read it, because it's a big risk that I'll never pick it up or finish it, and what if I tell you about a book that ends up being terrible? I'm just going to tell you about this one anyway.
The other night I was strolling around Book People here in Austin, looking for a different kind of book, something I hadn't heard about before. I read through probably 25 different staff recommendations before I settled on this book:
Synopsis from the back of the book: "Gregory David Roberts was born in Melbourne, Australia. Sentenced to nineteen years in prison for a series of armed robberies, he escaped and spent ten of his fugitive years in Bombay -- where he established a free medical clinic for slum-dwellers, and worked as a counterfeiter, smuggler, gunrunner, and street soldier for a branch of the Bombay mafia. Recaptured, he served out his sentence, and established a successful multimedia company upon his release."
Anyone who knows me will recognize that this isn't my typical reading fodder. No matter what type of book I'm looking to read, I subject them all to the first-page test. If it doesn't grab me on the first page, I move on.
This book had one of the best first pages I've read in a long while. In fact, I was sold on the first paragraph:
"It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured. I realised, somehow, through the screaming in my mind, that even in that shackled, bloody helplessness, I was still free: free to hate the men who were torturing me, or to forgive them. It doesn't sound like much, I know. But in the flinch and bite of the chain, when it's all you've got, that freedom is a universe of possibility. And the choice you make, between hating and forgiving, can become the story of your life."
I found my 2008 calendar in Japantown during my visit to SF. It's almost too cute for me to look at. The cuteness kind of stresses me out.
I first came to respect, admire and enjoy Timbaland back when he worked with Aaliyah (R.I.P.), but I hadn't listened to his new record until today. I've been listening to it on Rhapsody this afternoon, noting that another perk of working at home is that no one looks at you funny when you're staring at your laptop while bobbing your head and doing a sad shoulder-dance.
One of the last tracks, "Apologize", really surprised me. It's a melodic ballad and the beats don't kick in until about 45 seconds into it. I had to look up who the vocalist was - turns out it's some band called One Republic who I've never heard of. This video is terrible, and the singer has a kind of blond, square-faced smugness that is far too reminiscent of Spencer from "The Hills".
