Thursday, February 23, 2006

Shaking things up

This last week I moved back to the lappy as a music source after a couple months of running through playlists on my desktop. I did a bit of rooting about and came across a bunch of music I hadn't yet listened to and decided to begin at the A's and work my way through. The result has an unusual focus on two bands: Air and...Aqualung.

Air, I can understand as they're groovy and breezy and nonsensically sweet, just this side of coy and silly, but never too earnest. Did I mention groovy? Aqualung, on the other hand.... Hopelessly tragic and romantic and emo to the core and the newest purveyor of the instant cliche. Aqualung reinvents 'earnest'. But, the thing is I actually like it. Scratch that: I really like it. Perhaps it's the lack of apology in his delivery: half the time he seems nearly as dumbfounded telling his stories as I feel as I hitting repeat to listen yet again. Perhaps it's that the guy writes lyrics in a manner that I can only describe as modern standards, so maybe I just have the Berlin/Gershwin/et al set to blame for creating a niche in my musical psyche for this kind ridiculousness. But whatever it is, I think I may finally understand what it's like to have an insatiable sweet tooth.

You know, if only ears had teeth.

In other news, after weeks of debating what my new hair color would be, I woke up this morning and decided to go red. Deep auburn actually. Judging, however, from the color of the formula as it has developed, I fear a color closer to Marge Simpson's.

My shift starts at 7pm tonight. God help us all.

Update: My fears of the new color resembling Marge Simpson have proven to be utterly unfounded as the rinsed and dried color is decidedly pi-, uh, magenta.

As if an undying love of safety orange wasn't enough to appease the fickle and demanding gods of Colors You Can Hear From Distances Greater Than or Equal to One Mile. Magenta. I'm not supposed to wash it for at least 48 hours, but I'm not certain I can go through the whole weekend with magenta hair. Almost as a consolation, though, it's even softer than usual, which is almost impossible and means I now distractedly pet my own head like it's covered in a Chia wig. It's shiny, too, like a sheet of ice. Magenta ice, of course. Thank goodness for mood lighting at work.

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