Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, I’m heading down to Austin, Texas for a few days later this month. My mom asked me what I want to do while we’re there, and all I could really come up with is eat.* Austin has some seriously epic vegan eats. Just look at this popcorn tofu, y’all! Wheatsville Coop, here I come.
* I also want to luxuriate at Barton Springs Pool, vintage shop on South Congress, and see the big flagship Whole Foods on Lamar Street. I’m taking other suggestions, too!
photo via yelp
A few Gatsby things:
I’m still a little skeptical about Carey Mulligan as Daisy, but how gorgeous is she on the cover of Vogue? That lime green dress is perfection.
I think I’ll re-read the Great Gatsby (as soon as I finish Ghostwritten! So good!) in advance of seeing the movie. I haven’t read it since high school. A former co-worker recently shared an article claiming the book is awful. I’m inclined to disagree, but excited to revisit it.
Baz Luhrmann decided to remake the Great Gatsby after listening to an audio version of the book on the trans-Siberian Express. Mr. Luhrmann, on the trip:
You could actually recommend this as therapy to someone who was really in trouble: Get in a tin box, travel through Siberia, listen to ‘The Great Gatsby’ and drink red wine till you’re drunk.
Sign me up.
photo for vogue
Dog dressed as a hot dog, eating a hot dog, while watching baseball, in Atlanta. I want to be this pup. (Except with a veggie dog, of course.)
photo via deadspin
I’ve had this photo saved to my desktop for a million years, but I’ve never posted it. This absolutely kills me.
This craigslist apartment photo is maybe my favorite ever. I hope the person who created the listing spent a lot of time designing a super accurate Sims version of the apartment for rent.
I’ve never been a big Sims player, but N had a Sims phase and so I learned a little bit of Simlish and maybe helped a Sim or two navigate their day. I once met a friend of a friend on Cinco de Mayo. His name was Sims, and the first thing I said to him was commun snanna, and he was NOT AMUSED. That was about the extent of our acquaintance. (Sorry J!)
At a Phish show in 2003, the crowd was greeted by a giant banner proclaiming, ‘Our Intent Is All for Your Delight.’ It’s Phish’s pure devotion to music that makes them beloved of their fans.
I walked through this entryway at my first Phish show, a festival called It held in Maine in 2003. It seems like a lifetime ago. I was really into this great, weird band, and spent a lot of my time listening to their music, collecting CD’s and tapes, and scooping up batik-printed maxi skirts at thrift stores.
At that first festival, I was terrified. There is a down and dirty hedonistic carnival freak atmosphere on lot at most Phish shows, but It was spectacularly so. I recently confirmed this with a new friend who also saw Phish for the first time at that same festival.
It was also a spectacular couple of shows, probably the best I ever saw Phish play. (I’ve seen them about fifteen times, which some people think is a lot, and some not at all.)
There was a post on the Hairpin today about liking something even when it’s not cool, focusing mainly on Phish and linking to a pretty interesting article about how Phish has managed to be very successful financially throughout the band’s lengthy tenure.
I think y’all know that I have always desperately wanted to be cool, and also that I certainly never will be. Even the cool stoner kids in high school had absolutely no interest in being friends with me, long skirts and Phish shirts and Grateful Dead stickers be damned.
At that first Phish show, I wore khaki shorts and a camo-printed tee (I was really into camo at the time, no clue). I pulled on a fleece when it got cold. I felt separate from the beautiful girls wearing flowy dresses, their shoulders exposed despite the cool breeze. They moved so effortlessly, while I felt awkward and nervous as I only sort of danced. Bearded dudes swigged from camelbacks full of cheap whiskey and I was probably one of the only people not on drugs. I sat in my then-boyfriend’s lap during the setbreak and we probably both glimpsed different futures we hoped for.
My brother and I went to a lot of shows over the next few years. We became friendly with a group of people who made their own community centered around seeing live music. I felt only sort of a part of that group, but it was nice to be greeted with hugs by familiar faces, to trade stories with my brother about the interesting people we had become friendly with. I must have seen this one gorgeous, brown-haired boy about a million times, and he was almost always with a different girl. She was inevitably blond and wearing a flowy patchwork dress. Her eyes would droop a little and she would glow with this beatific expression. I knew they were just playing dress up, and I wished I was one of those blond girls. Years later, taking photos with N before a wedding in St. Petersburg, I saw him pass by, yes, with a blond. I was in a floor-length gown, wearing heels and makeup and clutching my sweetheart. He smiled as he passed us, and I doubt he recognized me, but it reminded me how much things have changed.
I saw Phish at the Gorge in Washington a couple of summers ago, my first time seeing the band in several years. I was more self assured, and older and wiser and less afraid. I was a new version of myself, seeing this band that I sort of grew up with, and now when one of my housemates puts on a Phish show, I sing the words out loud and I can’t believe that I remember them after all these years.
photo via priceonomics