rivers cuomo's readmittance essay to harvard. fave sentence: "I reacted defensively, calling the fans 'little bitches' in an interview with Guitar World magazine." [thanks catchdubs]

three new rilo kiley tracks streaming here.

::: leatherface, "sour grapes" ::: i learned about leatherface when i used to read the big takeover all the time. forget what i said about the firewater guy's raspy voice. frankie stubbs's voice is beyond hoarse. but you get used to it. at first it's funny, and then you sort of like it. an album's worth gets a little trying, but if you're a fan of, say, husker du, i bet you'll like this. yay melodic punk with crazy old guy vocals.

we watched the convention tonight in between bites of yummy bbq chicken, baked potatoes with the fixin's, and cupcakes enjoyed for myrna's birthday. mmmmm. best moment had to be when the elder kerry-heinz son quickly hid his beer when the cameras were on him. sewing up the alkie vote, wooh! way to go, ketchup boy!

::: firewater, "anything at all" ::: i like firewater and their freaky circus/Eastern European vibe. and i love the singer's raspy voice. i just have way too many firewater cds. how many does one person need, really? i should really just make a firewater mix. this song is sort of typical.

::: firewater, "secret" ::: and this one less so.

::: all-time quarterback, "untitled" ::: i prefer early death cab, and this track sort of falls into that category. it's a cute little indiepop gem from the one-off all-time quarterback release. it's full of them, too.

you can now get that future of america cd with the amazing tracklisting by contributing $25 to moveon.org.

best alt-coverage of the convention yet: hilary clinton fashion report.

speaking of the convention: how awesome was obama? i especially liked the red state/blue state bit of his speech. obama we love you!

murry hammond of old 97s on faith and songwriting. pretty interesting, though the interviewer's sermon referenced in the interview is total bullshit (god hates beer, you know, but only if you have more than one). there's at least one hokey god reference on the new album, but it doesn't come from a murry song.

the attempt to brand our entire existence beyond recognition continues. depressing.

we will never beat cockroaches, though they are far less frequently seen than they used to be (at least, in areas other than the lower east side). can someone explain the photo with this story? depicting gigantic roaches the size of a human leg diving into a bathtub??

whitney matheson, one of the few bloggers granted press credentials for the democratic convention, is taking a break from pop candy this week to cover the hubbub in boston. check her unconventional (get it?) coverage, covering important topics like what free loot is available to convention-goers. also, dig that cute picture!

best sentence in this story about the symbiotic relationship between fledgling fashion designers and "prefame" bands: "Now a second wave of alternative rockers has arrived--Franz Ferdinand, the Killers and the Darkness--raising the ante for a full-blown polished look." um, the fucking darkness? thin lizzy shirts and full-body leotards do not count as high fashion in my book.

that said, i recently discovered that despite initial opposition, i now unabashedly love the darkness. here is the motherlode of live darkness mp3s, featuring my favorite: friday night.

oh my god. again with the ridiculousness! the new york times: "They were so focused on choreographing the convention to extol the virtues of John Kerry, the actual nominee, that they managed to dis the most influential woman in American politics--one who is expected to almost certainly try for the presidential nomination in 2008 if Mr. Kerry doesn't make it this time." yeeeeah boy. respect is due.

::: "borrowed bride," old 97s ::: this new album, out next week, is definitely one of my top few of the year, and this is one of my favorite songs off it. the lyrics are delightfully odd, but evocative. of what i don't know. i don't even really know what the song is about. and i have a feeling when the lyric sheet comes out with the album, i'm going to find a few surprises. is he really saying "the ghost before breakfast" and "the ying in her tanline"? (shit, i think it's "ring." i wish rhett would get over his marriage obsession already.) and the impossibly bouncy piano after the declaration that "life comes apart at the seams" is just divine. yeah, they've still got it. the whole album is full of gems, totally worth purchasing. if you preorder, you get a chance to win a bunch of cool stuff.

early child development homo prevention tips.

did everyone see the "this land" parody? hilarity ensues.

dudes, why does old navy have such cute shoes? i must have cheetah-print sneakers!

stuff it, emo boy! oh my god, THAT'S why i love spidey so much. i was just trying to explain how spidey has soul. meanwhile, holy slutbot, batman, the reviews for catwoman are terrible! i think i wanna see it now....

britney's fiance's shoe situation is out of control.

gawker has crazy pics of the brooklyn target opening. this looks possibly like the greatest party manhattan has never seen, notwithstanding the presence of lockhart steele. why was i not invited??

meanwhile, i am really finding it hard to believe that there are 38 rainbows and only 32 gaps in the city.

travis morrison's record is coming out in september on barsuk, with lots of weird titles; elliott smith's final album will out itself in october.

someone stole the shoe of an irritating person who would not shut up during a free concert in central park. that is so awesome i can hardly stand it.

my weekend was fine, thanks. i did the sirenfest thing, been-there-done-that-and-oh-yeah-the-sound-sucks version, which includes catching a couple bands, drinking beer out of extra-large bottles, and getting the hell out of there. then met up with eileen to send her off to california with an evening of sugar-glazed chicken, dark 'n' stormies, and yummy sangria. sunday i met up with elisabeth and boyfriend to eat bad mexican food and witness ...and you will know us by the trail of dead abuse their instruments at rothko. they were pretty good, i thought.

steve-o asks that anybody attending electric 6 shows please throw eggs at them, because they are a bunch of wussies. also if you are unsure of exactly what dumb tattoos steve-o has and why and how he got them, that information is available for you too. apparently they have to blur the shit out of his entire body for tv. over in the "important" section, steve-o answers the big question, "how did time begin?" the entire website is pretty much RIFE with spun gold for the steve-o fan.

the village voice refers to franz ferdinand as "15 pounds of fuck-puppy in a 10-pound bag." that is genius, but come on. those guys are NOT cute. and neither, by the way, is the lead singer's girlfriend, that chick from the fiery furnaces. stop saying she is! their babies will be pointy-nosed and horrible!

i also don't get the adoration expressed in certain quarters for the death cab for cutie guy, although the way he plays those tiny drums AND his guitar with a drumstick is pretty cute. witness it here in this video of their sirenfest performance and some girl's dumb outfit.

i am SO getting that new ipod. i have forgotten why i was against them.

this is actually a fairly interesting essay on wilco. i kind of agree that the heroic status accorded this band is a bit hard to take. i mean, tweedy's kind of lost now, isn' he? the new album is boring as hell. but who cares if tweedy "doesn't know what pose to strike"? just let him make the music he wants to make. and to call rock 'n' roll a "diminished thing" just means the writer is old and out of touch, pining for the stones and the beatles and i'm sure it was really all better back then, but isn't it past this guy's bedtime? thanks to randi "poor dance skills" hecht for the link.

modest mouse is playing hammerstein now? ugh. and to see sonic youth, i'd have to pay $25 and endure the $8 beers at webster hall? guh.

allmusic.com redesigned itself and now sucks. however, mp3.com licenses all (well, most) of their content, so you can get all the same basic biographical/album info there. rockin' like dokken, yo.

in case you have not checked out my friendster profile lately, i love bam margera (and his cutey delaware accent). his neighbors do not.

finally, roll call: WHO wants to see gbv play their final show on new year's eve in chicago? it's the electrifying conclusion! usual suspects (you know who you are), please weigh in. tickets are on sale the 31st.

also, secret show!: hottt texas rock, free, rothko, sunday night. free drinks, too.

rock 'n' roll high school: the free old 97s show last night was deeply weird. it was supposed to be a big outdoor summer lovefest in rockefeller park, but it was shitting rain so they moved it to ... stuyvesant high school auditorium. which made for probably the least rock 'n' roll rock show i've ever been to. the band found it bizarre, too, comparing it to a bad dream they might have had in high school. but they made the best of it with jokes ("ken, you are not in your underwear"), and the sound was great, and they are really effin' good. we were told in advance that the area in front of the stage was not a mosh pit, but an orchestra pit, and we should not stand on it for safety reasons. this meant 800 people were sitting in their seats watching a rock band play their hearts out. very frustrating, and sorta depressing. i was especially disheartened when a partial standing ovation did not take and the audience sat back down -- you know the band wants you to stand. (i'm looking at you, randi. sternly.)

and now the best/worst part. three wonderful souls finally dared to tread upon the orchestra pit and start dancing. i, of course, followed suit, since i had been DYING to do just that the whole show. (i also wanted to get a good picture or two.) i looked back, and my row of five friends, for whom i had arrived early at the venue to secure second-row seats, remained rooted to their chairs, refusing to join me. this was how it was supposed to BE! where was the love?! even when way more people had ventured out there, nothin. these people all suck: randi, amy, vanessa, gail, and heather. the excuses ("i didn't want to die," "too sober," and my favorite, "too bright") were weak. props to michelle f. for appearing for a brief, ecstatic hug, though. anyway, it was fun down there. how it was supposed to be. someone even did the worm, out of pure unadulterated joy i suppose. we are free! rhett said this was his favorite part of the evening. but after a few songs, security, in the form of a 50-year-old woman in a yellow pantsuit (the head of the battery park council or whatever), restored order. muchos videos tk.

SO MANY WORDS. jeez. can you tell i sort of like the old 97s? also of note: i ran into my favorite little-known tattooed texas songwriter, and man oh man if he doesn't have soft hands. hummina.

uh, links tomorrow, mkay?

oh wait, i did want to test this out, briefly: check check. does this work for anybody?

good story on street art, focusing on swoon. make sure you click the slide show, and check out the swoon-sightings fotolog for more. [via traveler's diagram, who has swoon art in his bedroom! jealous!]

promotional video shoot for winnebago goes fucking hilarious. please, i beg of you, watch this. i love this guy. and his potty mouth.

holy crap, that guy is still on jeopardy.

had a lovely weekend but lack lovely pictures. all i have are shots of holly and lord knows there are enough of those. oh well. just picture a sunny beach, me spitting cherry pits all over the place, and the smiling faces of holly, linnea, and michelle. we discussed immortal questions like "would you rather be model-hot or own a jet?" and "would you rather be vanna white or one of barker's beauties?" also i have retarded halter-shaped tan lines thanks to my spectacular new bathing suit. more beach time (and root-beer floats) necessary!

and that, sadly, is all she wrote.

last night i dreamt i gave birth to a baby. i'm not going to get into the frightening implications of the possible existence of a latent, heretofore-undiscovered biological time bomb. i'm just going to say that the baby emerged quite large, and immediately informed me that his band was playing at pianos on friday night. that baby's priorities are fucked, y'all! *shudder*

this "political" compilation coming out on barsuk looks amazing. i'd buy it for the old 97s track alone, for, if i somehow failed to mention it here, i am back in love with rhett. don't forget next week, kids: 97s wednesday; fountains of wayne tuesday. the magic word is free.

hilarious cartoons on gapingvoid.com. i totally want to get some of this dude's cards. i don't have business cards, you know? it's wrong. so i need regular cards. don't i? um. [via curbed]

new blog city rag has the deal on adam purple, aka "that old dude on the loaded-down bike with the big white beard." he's also got word on some sort of nyc pot-and-beer van squad busting people. as you may recall, catherine's pita was a victim of some van-riding cops, busted for drinking a beer on her own stoop outside her own party. we are with you in your anger, cityrag. everybody: smoke 'em if ya got 'em!

turnoffs that turn the ladies on.

so they want to make a "brooklyn bridge beach." i think i speak for all right-thinking folk when i say haaaaaaaaa.

i love this listing of various weirdo-but-true (supposedly; it IS the internet after all) names for groups of animals. a shrewdness of apes. a bellowing of bullfinches. a wisdom of wombats.

i could go on, but it is time to eat beer and drink sausages. you know what i mean. YAY WEEKEND!

for those of you who dig random video, here is the promised one of the july 4 poolside trombone-and-drums performance of "yankee doodle dandy" by some neighbors of cormipants' brother, complete with the obligatory "are you taking a video?" query.

we don't need no stinking gmail. come fall, hotmail users will get 250 mb of storage.

i don't know what is more gross, this mouse in beer story or the fact that my editor at aol just told me i'm gaining a "rep" as being the only freelancer who can competently profile country singers. ewwww.

this is a good story by a writer who went on tour with minneapolis band friends like these. they're playing pianos in september.

it does not suffice to say that i had an awesome time with cormi and co. on long island this weekend. i am pretty sure i achieved vacation nirvana, in fact. out on his brother's lobster boat, i was reminded of the time i was on spring break and started crying at the sight of the ocean. i told cormi and he laughed at me. there was a lot, lot, lot of laughing, several high kicks by moi, and one private performance of holly's legendary worm. what else... i bought a near-perfect bathing suit in 10 minutes at marshall's so i could splash around in the pool. in a hilarious turn of events, a couple of neighbors dropped by while we were swimming for a surprise trombone-and-drums performance of patriotic classics. i fell in love with the extended cormi clan, which is full of dry-witted grandmothers, ridiculously cute babies, gravelly voiced brothers, and intelligent aunties. a most excellent fourth. thanks cormi, and happy birthday! (ryan has eight million pics, and so does esteban--oh my. i expect randi will get to hers in about two weeks. developing...)

i saw two movies this weekend on either side of the strong island fun. here are your one-word reviews: spidey=awesome; napoleon dynamite=eh.

i resized and snazzified all these shirts for amy, so we had a little fitting and photo shoot last night. she bought me a concert ticket and numerous drinks in return. i think i need to raise my rates though: holly saw a sweatshirt-material shirt with random zippers all over it at bloomie's; it was by stella mccartney and cost $200.

then we went to the no data party at 12-inch. here is how the djs stacked up: krucoff was the punkest, dennis the funkiest, randy the most enthusiastic, and grellan the cutest (by a hair).

there are some superultracool t-shirts on threadless.com for only ten bucks each. best thing about this t-shirt surgery obsession: i can buy double xls and it doesn't even matter. [via catchdubs]

a sweet little birdie gave me the leaked interpol album. the best track, via losing my edge: "evil." it's killer. and then here's "narc," courtesy of music (for robots). don't you just love mp3 blogs? lately i'm also liking the bumblebeez record, which was a pretty impulsive purchase; you can stream a few tracks on their site, and download their "pony ride."

if you're stuck in the city this weekend (you poor bastard) you could do worse than check out p.s. 1's warmup series, which starts this saturday. i went for the first time last summer, and it was, as they say, tits. if you're near a computer this afternoon from 1 to 4, check out maura's show on wprb; matthew fluxblog is cohosting. i'm off to see spidey.

ate all sorts of foodstuffs the other night with tricia and bruce at their little soiree. tricia, who has the best laugh of all time, used her experience haggling for fake designer bags in hong kong to pester the staff at on the ave. hotel into giving them the room with wraparound terrace, admitting that she went back three times till she got her way. it was gorgeous up there. i need more rooftops in my life, truly.

they came out with the detailed schedule for sirenfest. i'm thinking i'll catch fiery furnaces at the main stage and spend any other non-boardwalk, non-cyclone time at the stillwell stage, where whitey is DJing. mission of burma, anyone?

and now, because i am lacking in links, here's a little slice of l.e.s. life, via an email from kurt the roommate:

----------
From: kurt
Sent: Wednesday, June 30, 2004 9:35 AM
To: Catherine
Subject: Bug N' Brew

Mortz--

This was the coffee maker we liked, ja? I am gonna buy it today. There was a major insect crisis with the coffee machine and I just can no longer use the old urn in confidence. I saw two large riznoaches today, one of which was nestled gently in the grinds ofthe coffeepot. When I opened it, it came running out. Long story short: your usually masculine roommate screamed like a girl and decided to buy coffee from around the corner today.

Also, if you turn your coffeemaker over there is a dead roach that looks as if it got caught squeezing into a cranny of your urn. It is semi-amusing.