I've asked my cousin Brandon to play the music for the wedding. I've been going through my stacks of records trying to pick out songs...how can I narrow it down? Worse, how can I find some appropriate happy music, beautiful music that I love for the wedding? I've realized more and more as I've organized the last years worth of music lying at the foot of my bed just how dark my palate really is. Even the upbeat music tends to be about awful things, like a twist of Magnetic Fields or a ride on the roller coaster of an M. Ward record. M. Ward, with his dancey saloon songs so full of death and disappointment, afterthoughts and whimsically damaged dreams, always makes me happy.
I wish I could write Tiny Mix Tapes for some suggestions:
"Mark Kozelek couldn't play my wedding, the spring flowers made him cheerful."
*********************************************************************
Some guy just walked up to my desk with a baby and said "Hey! We just left the hospital and realized we took the wrong baby...so we thought we'd bring him back." He held out the baby and all of these thoughts started swirling through my head, my face froze and I stopped. "Nahhh Girl. Just kidding! Got you! Got you! Where's the food court?" His family walked up behind him as I slowly pointed the way and they all started laughing.
Showing posts with label Weddingness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Weddingness. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
mothers day and other halves
My mother got some Neutrogena products, a loofah, some chocolate, and a song.
I sang with her church choir. Actually, I should say that it's my father's choir, since he is the music minister. I'm not much of a church person, even though I come from a long line of missionaries and fire-and-brimstone Southern Baptist preachers, so it meant a great deal that I came (on time) and sang, standing next to my father and near to my mother on that small stage.
Mother. We went shopping, which is usually a quite life-threatening experience, and somehow through the eyelet sleeves and teal blue linen carnage we both survived.
I have to say that I suspect she might have become a Feist fan through the weekend. SHe had to listen to the record three or four times as we drove from store to store and around and around looking for parking spaces. I think I saw her nod her head a few times to the beat, though I'm not sure. She may have just been popping her jaw (she has a history of TMJ). She is definately not a fan of Broken Social Scene although I know that she does enjoy the better part of Jason Collett's "Idol's of Exile".
She tends to scoff a bit at the music I love, at least when we're in public. To her, pretty much all of it is noise. She spends her driving days listening to the sweet sounds of the Brothers Cazimero or to the soundtrack of the 1987 original Broadway production of Les Miserables. Because of her, I know every single word of that musical. Every single word, every note, every stage direction...
Because of her, I also know every word to Lewis Carroll's the Jabberwocky. This talent has come in handy many times over the course of my life, as you can imagine. Very popular with Jim. Also performed at random during parties where much alcohol has been consumed (it is to be understood that this has not happened for some time).
Thursday, Jim and I will run away to the Great Metropolis of Columbiana to get the marriage license. That's so crazy. That's so awesome. And also, Jim tells me that I must change my name...to Sikahip Eel Semaj, which is such a strange name that I don't quite understand. I guess I'll just have to get used to it. Oh. I just got it. It's his name spelled backwards. Nice. It's Monday. I'm a little slow.
I sang with her church choir. Actually, I should say that it's my father's choir, since he is the music minister. I'm not much of a church person, even though I come from a long line of missionaries and fire-and-brimstone Southern Baptist preachers, so it meant a great deal that I came (on time) and sang, standing next to my father and near to my mother on that small stage.
Mother. We went shopping, which is usually a quite life-threatening experience, and somehow through the eyelet sleeves and teal blue linen carnage we both survived.
I have to say that I suspect she might have become a Feist fan through the weekend. SHe had to listen to the record three or four times as we drove from store to store and around and around looking for parking spaces. I think I saw her nod her head a few times to the beat, though I'm not sure. She may have just been popping her jaw (she has a history of TMJ). She is definately not a fan of Broken Social Scene although I know that she does enjoy the better part of Jason Collett's "Idol's of Exile".
She tends to scoff a bit at the music I love, at least when we're in public. To her, pretty much all of it is noise. She spends her driving days listening to the sweet sounds of the Brothers Cazimero or to the soundtrack of the 1987 original Broadway production of Les Miserables. Because of her, I know every single word of that musical. Every single word, every note, every stage direction...
Because of her, I also know every word to Lewis Carroll's the Jabberwocky. This talent has come in handy many times over the course of my life, as you can imagine. Very popular with Jim. Also performed at random during parties where much alcohol has been consumed (it is to be understood that this has not happened for some time).
Thursday, Jim and I will run away to the Great Metropolis of Columbiana to get the marriage license. That's so crazy. That's so awesome. And also, Jim tells me that I must change my name...to Sikahip Eel Semaj, which is such a strange name that I don't quite understand. I guess I'll just have to get used to it. Oh. I just got it. It's his name spelled backwards. Nice. It's Monday. I'm a little slow.
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