the unquiet darkness

louisa marion makes us look good

2010-03-11T14:14:00.000-08:00

None better. Email her. Hire her to take amazing photos. Smile.

there's nothing like finding yourself quoted in a wikipedia article

2010-03-07T10:19:00.001-08:00

Read it in context.

the obvious conclusion (actual conversation edition)

2010-02-16T14:11:00.000-08:00

lit kitsch

2010-02-16T09:18:00.000-08:00

Lauren, possibly my most bibliophilic friend (given how many times she scoops me on cheap first editions over at AbeBooks) thought I would enjoy Out of Print Clothing.

And I do.

It's certainly a step above The Great Gatsby t-shirt at Urban Outfitters, which filled me with equal parts lust and disgust. I guess I just don't want my favorite books kitschified (um, go with it) and slapped on a pre-distressed overpriced t-shirt like TMNT or Sesame Street.

Of course, I couldn't resist buying a Where the Wild Things Are shirt last summer. But somehow the reselling of my childhood bothers me less than the marketing of wearable representations of lit classics.

But, buy a shirt and give a book? Admirable. And that Moby Dick cover is killer.

this year i... (return of)

2009-12-30T18:32:00.000-08:00

...buried my father. The last five months have been rough.

Really, I'd just like to thank all of you. For distracting me, listening to me, picking me up. Sometimes literally.

Thanks.

this year i ... (strikes back)

2009-12-20T20:55:00.000-08:00

(photo via Roxie)
...grew a ragged beard (and smiled at least once).

...shaved, except for the mustache (thanks, Abby).

(photo via Louisa)
...realized I was better off without the mustache (but with the beard at a more manageable level).

Yes, I learned a lot about facial hair in 2009. And about looking creepy.

this year i...

2009-12-18T13:11:00.000-08:00

...bought a bike. It's orange with blue tires. Like a can of Fat Cat. I named it Oscar. I rode it all over MPLS and wore striped socks. It was a good summer. Aside from the Joose.

This was Sam's idea. You should do it too.

megan inghram

2009-09-18T07:10:00.001-07:00

So I don't know Megan Inghram, but her illustrations are rad. She did the Franny and Zooey cover redesign I posted yesterday (which I just realized she sold on etsy back in April. Sad.) I found some more of her work today. Peep her blog.

Perhaps I should commission a Gatsby cover redesign...

Also, does the second image remind anybody else of one of my favorite Roxie creations?

i like to ride in trains too much. you never get to sit next to the window anymore when you're married.

2009-09-17T10:08:00.000-07:00

I stumbled across this image today. It's fantastic. I needed it and I didn't even know.
source

new giant drag. yessssss.

2009-08-26T06:10:00.000-07:00

Yessssss. Somebody sign this girl. More meows, please.
source

let the wild rumpus begin!

2009-08-17T10:39:00.001-07:00

Then he stopped. His father had explained that the journal was for positive wants, not negative wants. When you wanted something negative, it didn’t count, he said. A want should improve your life while improving the world, even if just a little bit.

So Max began again:

I WANT to get out of here.
I WANT to go to the moon or some other planet.
I WANT to find some unicorn DNA and then grow a bunch of them and teach them to impale Claire’s friends with their horns.

Oh, well. He could erase it later. Just writing it felt good. But now he was sick of writing. He wanted to do something. But what did he want to do? This was the central question of this day and most days.

You know you want to read (what I assume to be) an excerpt from Dave Eggers' Wild Things called Max at Sea.

Source: The New Yorker.

good morning

2009-08-15T11:24:00.001-07:00

I was slightly concerned I might lose a finger, but the Monster Mug kept his teeth to himself.

post-game appreciation

2009-08-06T14:40:00.000-07:00

I didn’t really get to know my father until pretty late in the game.

It was like watching Paul Molitor get his three-thousandth hit in a Minnesota uniform. People cheered, but it wasn’t how they would remember him.

The metaphor is appropriate, I think, because even when we had nothing to talk about, we could talk about sports. My Dad and I stuck to the locals, mostly: Twins, Timberwolves, trade rumors.

When I’d visit his clean, unadorned room at the care home, he’d run through the usual series of questions. How’s the job? How’s the car running? Have any girlfriends? He liked that last one best—especially when I had a story to tell. How’d you meet this one? he’d ask. And when they’d change, or I’d go weeks (months) without a new name to share, he didn’t mind. He’d just suggest I try the bars around town.

My Dad was consistent, like a sideline reporter interviewing a key player after a win. There was a script, an expected call and response, and we nailed it. We had it down. We could have worked for ESPN. Okay. Fox Sports.

There was a time when I didn’t think I could handle it, hearing those same questions again and again. When it depressed me to run through the same answers, recount the same basic facts. But eventually, I realized how much they mattered. The questions. Because even if he forgot the answers a week or an hour later, he wanted to know. He wanted to know enough to ask every time. And he always listened.

Once we exhausted the interview portion of my visits, my Dad and I would settle in for some Monday Night Football or a Sunday afternoon snoozer between the Yankees and the Angels. We even watched golf. Sure, we didn’t always watch sports. There’s a reason I consider myself a Wheel Watcher.

But in the end, it came down to sports, even though I’m not entirely certain how much we each even liked them. Sure, he was a high school and college athlete, and I have a deep appreciation for Joe Mauer’s swing. But I don’t feel about Kevin Garnett quite the way I do about F Scott Fitzgerald. And my Dad? I’m not sure what his dreams were, what he aspired to be, to do.

That’s the thing about knowing my Dad. I don’t, really. I’ve heard stories of his humor, his kindness, his easygoing nature. And in the past few years, I’ve seen flashes of those things, hints of a person that I never got to meet.

Parents aren’t people when you’re a kid. They’re heroes, villains, legends. They’re Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle, Joe DiMaggio. They make the rules, feed you, pick you up when you fall. But it’s not until you’re older and on the way to becoming some kind of grownup that you really get it. That they stumble. That they are not always right. That they might not be around forever like you always thought they would be. That they’re human. Like you.

I won’t have a father to help finish the basement of that future home in South Minneapolis. I won’t have a father to phone for financial advice and support, both solicited and not. I won’t have a father to say, don’t worry, son, I have a good feeling about this one, while I’m nervously adjusting my tux.

I won’t have those things, but that’s okay. My Dad left me something else: he left me his sloppy, beaming, ear-to-ear grin. He left the smile that spilled across his face every time I popped my head through the door to his room. The smile I can’t deny every time I see my reflection in the mirror. The smile that was like a late-inning catch at the wall, the kind that Kirby Puckett made again and again to rob the opposing team of a go-ahead home run. It was the kind of smile that made you think, sure, maybe things have been bad, but we have a chance. We can do this. It’s gonna be all right.

That much I know.

wbanyc

2009-08-02T13:21:00.000-07:00

My mustache loves clouds, so how could I not sit in a window seat?

Paula looks pretty at Yaffa Cafe.

Jesse expresses his appreciation for the server's suggestion.

I discover something interesting at the HiFi.

We are the only people on the train.

Right where we belong.

my dear child, this is NOT a birthday party.

2009-06-25T08:05:00.000-07:00

Am I more excited about any other movie right now than I am about Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland?

No. No, I am not.

Peep more photos at Wired.com's first look at the 2010 film. And for good measure, watch this trippy remix video constructed from snippets from the 1951 Disney film.

jenny

2009-06-04T13:18:00.000-07:00

Gosh, she's pretty.

Jenny Lewis was in town last night, and she stopped by The Current studios to play a few songs. The new tune "Just Like Zeus" is pretty rad, and Johnathan Rice did an admirable job filling in on Elvis Costello's part during "Carpetbaggers". But the interview portion with Mark Wheat is real reason to check it out. Listen on the Current website. My good friend Lindsay Kimball produced. Well done, I say.

i don't seem to remember ever owning a droid...

2009-06-02T10:56:00.000-07:00

...well now you can.

But does it have a special spring-loaded lightsaber compartment? That's the real question.

via Wired.com

hugging used to mean something

2009-05-28T10:47:00.001-07:00

Sometimes, The New York Times Style Section, I'm just not sure about you.

Here are some of best lines from the Sarah Kershaw's article, For Teenagers, Hello Means ‘How About a Hug?’.

But now there is also the bear claw, when a boy embraces a girl awkwardly with his elbows poking out.

(Yes! These are best with glaze.)

There’s the shake and lean; the hug from behind; and, the newest addition, the triple — any combination of three girls and boys hugging at once.

(I kept expecting Ms Kershaw to throw some teenager triple stats at me.)

“If somebody were to not hug someone, to never hug anybody, people might be just a little wary of them and think they are weird or peculiar,” said Gabrielle Brown, a freshman at Fiorello H. LaGuardia High School in Manhattan.

(What about that kid with no arms?)

But pro-hugging students say it is not a romantic or sexual gesture, simply the “hello” of their generation.

(As opposed to, oh, I don't know, 'Hello'?)

She added: “I hug people I’m close to. But now you’re hugging people you don’t even know. Hugging used to mean something.”

(Is this article really about something else? Maybe I still have Bonk on the mind.)

we the lions you the cheetahs

2009-05-27T11:02:00.000-07:00

As if they somehow knew I've been listening to Black Star nonstop for the past couple months, Talib Kweli and Mos Def are back together again. For two shows. In New York. Of course.

And this shirt, via Hypebeast:

Dope is the only word.

enough, bub

2009-05-27T05:35:00.000-07:00

Dear Hollywood blockbuster screenwriters,

Please stop writing pivotal emotional scenes during which our hero lets loose a howl of anguish that echoes across the landscape.

Love,
Christian

p.s. Tell your director buddies that pulling the camera up and away from the bellowing protagonist is over. No more. Please.

p.p.s. Also, please write stories that A) have some meaning, however slight, and B) function under some internal logic.

p.p.p.s. What a waste of Deadpool (and Ryan Reynolds). And Weapon XI? Seriously? That ending was weaker than the special effects they used for Wolverine's claws. Snikt. Argh.

please please please make these happen. throw me a bone. or a sock.

2009-05-05T10:58:00.000-07:00

These fantastic Harry Potter redesigns are the work of M.S. Corley.

I found this while checking out a sick Wu-Tang redesign project by Logan Walters via rcrdlbl. Yeah, I said "sick".

Anybody want to do a We Became Actors poster like this? Seriously.

the best nine-year-old frontman ever. ever.

2009-04-28T07:33:00.000-07:00

I think the guitarist might be more talented than I am too. OK, just watched the guitar solo. He's definitely better than I am.

ride

2009-04-18T15:24:00.000-07:00

Orange Schwinn Varsity from sometime in the 70s. Blue tires. From the fine folks at Capital Deals.

Inspiration.

how to get my attention #2

2009-03-26T13:41:00.000-07:00

Dress like Daisy Buchanan. Peep the fall collection from Cloak and Dagger.

Thanks to Lauren for pointing this out. And for just being rad.

this is the worst

2009-03-09T20:08:00.001-07:00

we will get these swimming pools

2009-02-25T05:47:00.000-08:00

We Became Actors wrote a new song, and this is a video of us playing it for the first time. At a bowling alley. It's kind of awesome.

Highlights include Mike breaking a stick and nearly hitting Paula with it at 1:19; the bowling ball flying by at 1:25 (setting up a spare, I think); my glasses disappearing (falling off) off-camera sometime around 1:40; and Jesse pointing to the ceiling at :21, :36, :42, 1:17, 2:14, 2:34 (almost), 2:43 and 3:18.

why girl talk (especially feed the animals) matters more than your favorite band (or favorite album)

2009-02-12T15:28:00.000-08:00

I'm trying to blog while I update Facebook, listen to my iPod ("Smash Your Head" by Girl Talk, unsurprisingly), and monitor work email. I also have a meeting in 20 minutes. Make that 16.

I've had a lot of sugar today. A lot. It's treat day. Red velvet cake, cookies, puppy dog tails. Coffee as well. Dark roast.

Oh, and a cheeseburger and fries for lunch. Probably should have had chicken nuggets.

This is the magic of Girl Talk represented by my day (Happy 200th BDay Messrs Lincoln and Darwin, as well as happy 29th, Ms Ricci).

You see, Lincoln and Darwin could have never had a day like the day I'm having. Sugar was expensive back in 1809. Wasn't it? Better check Wikipedia.

Anyway.

Girl Talk is the most modern of music. Postmodern, actually. You know Girl Talk, right? He's the Michelangelo of mash-ups. Perhaps prior to his creation of the aforementioned "Smash Your Head", specifically minute one, second thirty-six of the fifth track on Night Ripper, Greg Gillis (Mr Girl Talk himself) was just another laptop-wielding cube jockey who treated pop music like a chemistry set. But at 1:36, everything changed. Yes, at 1:36 of the best Girl Talk track (11:40 of the album as a whole), The Notorious B.I.G. makes an appearance.

Take the best Biggie verse and drop it on top of a sped-up section of Elton John's finest, and you get modern pop music's Creation of Adam.

What's important about this particular moment in "Smash Your Head" is that unlike, say, the opening of the song, which featured X-Ray Spex, or "Minute by Minute", which sampled Neutral Milk Hotel, or even the KRS-One rip in "Too Deep", Gillis took the absolute high points of two genre classics and let them rip for not quite a minute. Sublime. Pop. Genius.

Feed the Animals (number one on my Top 10 of 2008) is Gillis' attempt to replicate the glory of Biggie riding Sir Elton. On every song. For nearly an hour. He never quite makes it, but the overall effect blows away Night Ripper.

And what's important about this aspect of Feed the Animals is why Girl Talk matters more than your favorite band. As my friend Jeff Kamin said once, "Sometimes I get goosebumps from a song. I call these chill songs because a chorus or verse or bridge can give me the chills." That's what Gillis is trying (and mostly succeeding) to accomplish throughout Feed the Animals.

Every track is like the bit of a song that Toyota or Target or Apple uses in an ad campaign. It's the hook. It's the selling point. It's the reason you love that song. We live in a society that values advertisements as entertainment, so why not string as many of these together as possible? Feed the Animals is 53 minutes, 53 seconds of treat days.

We also live at a time when many of the things we crave and consume subscribe to the concepts posed in Jean Baudrillard's Simulacra and Simulation. Chicken nuggets. Reality television. Girl Talk. How much more third-order simulacra can you get than a song made entirely of recycled bits of other songs, some of which themselves sample other compositions? There is no original Girl Talk song. And even the basic formula Gillis follows for Feed the Animals is a copy of one of his previous works, which itself is not original.

Of course, while we're enjoying those fine fried bits of processed chicken, we might be driving, chatting with our passenger and texting (or blogging, eating, working and Facebooking). This is the hypertasking instant-gratification generation. And Girl Talk is its soundtrack. Don't like the first lines of "Int'l Players Anthem (I Choose You)" (but how could you not)? Not to worry, Birdman and Lil Wayne will be here before you know it.

Oh did I mention that Gillis gets all his samples illegally? But such is the nature of the modern media consumer. We download things from the Internet, pick and choose and delete rather than dropping $15 on piece of plastic on the chance that more than one song is any good.

An album by Isis or Radiohead or even Grammy-dominating Robert Plant and Allison Krauss can never come as close to representing the modern music listener as does Girl Talk. Raising Sand, Krauss and Plant's Album of the Year-winning collaboration, is actually pretty much as far from Girl Talk as is possible. No surprise, coming from the aging Academy.

So, Girl Talk's Feed the Animals: the defining music of the Hypertasking Instant Gratification Generation.

And it makes for a pretty damn good dance party.

that sure means a lot, mr banana

2009-01-24T18:12:00.000-08:00

One of my coworkers apparently thinks I need more potassium in my life.

my president is black, but his house all white

2009-01-20T12:03:00.000-08:00

Jay-Z My President is black Remix LIVE 1-18-09 from pleasedontstare on Vimeo.

I love Jay-Z. And The Fader blog.

i want to be the next director of new media for the white house

2009-01-20T11:10:00.000-08:00

A blog!

los diez mejores de 2008

2009-01-12T22:25:00.000-08:00

10. O, Tilly & the Wall
I love tap dancing. Throw lots of gorgeous girl-girl harmonies, mid-80s pop melodies and fat synths on top of Jamie Pressnall's wicked feet, and you've got 11 awesome tracks. If only "Beat Control" had made it onto the U.S. release.

9. Saturdays=Youth, M83
Anthony Gonzalez and co.'s latest offering smacks of the Cocteau Twins, Jesus and Mary Chain and My Bloody Valentine. They probably could have put "Kim & Jessie" on a 12-inch half a dozen times and I'd have been happy. Saturdays=Youth is huge, darkly hopeful and fuzzy. And it makes me feel like wearing nothing but black and a smile. All good things.

8. Conor Oberst, Conor Oberst
This is not a Bright Eyes album, and Mr Oberst went all the way to Mexico to prove it to you. Instead, the former wunderkind/next Dylan/reviled emo poster boy embraces twang and taps a pre-CMT inspiration that's not quite alt-country. And it works. Bright Eyes' last record, Cassadaga, floundered under poor production and a lyrical thread that felt forced. Not so with this self-titled release, which finds Oberst escaping... from what, I'm not entirely sure. Regardless, I appreciate the sentiment.

7. Sun Giant EP/Fleet Foxes, Fleet Foxes
Uplifting and radiant and perfect for Monday morning. Or any morning, really.

6. Vampire Weekend, Vampire Weekend
Yes, they might be the Whitest Band and the object of backlash for their look and sudden success. And yes, they sound exactly like Graceland-era Paul Simon. But what's wrong with that? I say the world needs more bands that could call you Al.

5. Hold On Now, Youngster..., Los Campesinos!
OK, tiny confession: Although "Death to Los Campesinos!" was the first song that really hooked me off this record, it was a mind-blowing mash-up by The Hood Internet that sold me on this band. See, Usher can do beautiful things. Without him, I'd have never fallen in love with the unabashed joy of "My Year in Lists," "We Are All Accelerated Readers" and "You! Me! Dancing!" Thank you, Usher. Thank you.

4. The Silver City, Jeremy Messersmith
Think Elliott Smith without the drugs fronting Fountains of Wayne without "Stacy's Mom." High praise, I know. But Messersmith's songwriting and voice, equal parts ache and hope, deserve it. Genius production from Dan Wilson (Semisonic) helps too.

3. Tha Carter III, Lil Wayne
iTunes tells me I listened to "Got Money" 77 times in the past six months. And that's not even one of the good songs. Tha Carter III sprawls, showcasing Dwayne Carter's lack of restraint. This would be a bad thing were it not for the truth to his claim: "They don't make em like me no more/ Matter of fact, they never made it like me before/ I'm rare like Mr. Clean with hair/ No brake lights on my car-rare." Best Rapper Alive, indeed.

2. 808s and Heartbreak, Kanye West
Sometimes I think 808s and Heartbreak is the finest Phil Collins record ever made by a rapper, and sometimes I think Kanye was just trying to murder Auto-Tune. Regardless, this album might be the best thing he's ever made. It's not a hip-hop album, it's not a rock album, it's not a pop album. No, 808s and Heartbreak is the self-portrait of an artist falling apart, nearly perfect in its imperfection. ART WINS!!!!!! ART WINS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ART WINS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BUT SERIOUSLY, THE DRUMS ON HEARTLESS ARE DOPE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1. Feed the Animals, Girl Talk
Yeah, yeah, yeah. He wrote none of the music and probably stole it all from the Internet. I don't care. This is not a party album; this is the party album, a sonic distillation of a multitasking, instant-gratification generation with a collective short attention span. Somehow, in trying and failing for 53 minutes to top "Juicy" riding "Tiny Dancer", Gregg Gillis constructed an entire album whose sum is better than his single greatest moment. Andre3000 rapping over Journey ain't bad, either.

dear music lover,

2008-12-29T15:45:00.000-08:00

thank you for purchasing a PRO-JECT AUDIO record player.

Oh man.

Nothing beats listening to For Emma, Forever Ago. On my new turntable. In my living room. Bon Iver will not make an appearance on my top ten of 2008. Why, you damned fool? you ask, casting away the last shreds of faith you may have had in my musical tastes. Well, it was already on my 2007 list. At 6. Check Facebook, if you dare. It'd be number one this year, though. If I included it.

Yes, the picture is a little blurry and dark, but I liked it best.

CMYK me ASAP

2008-12-22T11:08:00.000-08:00

Awesome. So, so awesome.

Images from Urban Retro.

drastic plastic

2008-12-21T18:40:00.000-08:00

I am a recovering compact disc addict. This is a good thing. Mostly.

My collection broke 1500 during 2007, spurred by a weekly three-disc habit (thanks a lot, Electric Fetus). And then, 2008 hit. I believe I've purchased fewer than 20 CDs this year, and that's a generous estimate.

I partially blame Wired, because I decided in 2008 to purchase albums on vinyl, if at all possible. CDs no longer held any physical appeal for me.

There was a time when I loved nothing better than the scent of a just-opened jewel case; new car was nothing compared to fresh polywrap and plastic. I'm sure there was something Pavlovian about it.

Along with the record company execs, I blame the Internet for the demise of the compact disc. But for me, the lack of anticipation is what killed my love of CDs. That, and the fact that 1500 CDs take up space. Lots of space. And are a pain to move. A real pain.

I digress. Anticipation, go. I remember eagerly awaiting the release of Pearl Jam's No Code during the summer of 1996. Hell, I remember begging a ride to Best Buy in Woodbury to pick up the first single off No Code, "Who You Are." Pearl Jam was easily my favorite band when I was 15, so it was an event when they put out something new.

For three months straight, I listened to almost nothing but No Code. Before I went to sleep, while I rode the bus, after I got home from school. That just doesn't happen anymore, and I know why.

Release dates don't mean a damn thing anymore. I have Bon Iver's fantastic new EP, Blood Bank, and I'm sure you have it too. And if you don't have it, it's only a few clicks away. I love Bon Iver now almost as much as I loved Pearl Jam when I was 15 (and I say "almost" because I don't think it's quite possible to love things at 27 the way you loved things at 15). January 20, Blood Bank's release date, won't hold any special significance for me. I won't mark it like August 27, 1996.

By the time Blood Bank is physically released, I will have moved on to a dozen other albums or EPs or Internet-only remixes that were leaked or legally made available on the Web.

I still hunger for new music, but it's not the same. I am always scouring the Web for something new and exciting, whether it's some hot remix featuring a new Dr Dre verse or Justin Vernon and co. covering The Outfield.

I know I loved at least a few albums that came out in 2008 (list forthcoming), but I'm already thinking about mid-2009. Perhaps it's my Web addiction, or maybe I'm just making excuses for procrastinating on my year-end top ten. Seriously, I'll get around to it... as soon as I find my copy of that Pearl Jam single to sell to Half Price Books.

the ship doesn't sink at the end of this one

2008-12-15T23:59:00.000-08:00

Shelve those boos and hisses. Put away that skeptical look you reserve for fans of Coldplay (which deserves a post of its own). Sure, Kate and Leo are starring in the film adaptation of the Richard Yates novel, directed by Sam Mendes (American Beauty, Jarhead), but Revolutionary Road is no Titanic II.

Then again, upon talking with Mr Joshua Casey this weekend, I realized perhaps Yates' masterpiece of realism is a bit like a sequel to the bloated James Cameron tearjerker. But instead of Jack Dawson sinking into the deep and keeping forever frozen his and Rose's star-crossed, steam-streaking love (hope I didn't ruin that for you), they get married, have a few kids and move to the suburbs only to realize the life they have is not the life they dreamed.

The New Yorker and Atlantic have excellent essays about Yates and Revolutionary Road, but they're full of spoilers, so wait to check them out until you've read the book or seen the film.

With its bleak analysis of the suburbs and a glowing endorsement from Kurt Vonnegut ("The Great Gatsby of my time..."), how could I not fall in love with this book?

Check out a high-quality version of the trailer or just watch the YouTube clip.

how to get my attention #1

2008-12-09T12:22:00.000-08:00

Wear this dress, available from Pivot.

one hundred things i love:

2008-11-28T18:21:00.000-08:00

because everyone has a muse...

1. kanye west
2. grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup
3. checked vans slip-ons
4. songs that sound like snowstorms
5. a good clean rain
6. breezes through open windows
7. f. scott fitzgerald
8. black t-shirts
9. american apparel hoodies
10. lions licking their wounds
11. a good hook
12. tetris
13. british children's fantasy
14. the second part of trilogies
15. unagi nigiri
16. joe mauer's swing
17. wes anderson movies
18. trains
19. minneapolis
20. skipping stones on lake superior
21. used book stores
22. animated robots
23. diner coffee
24. bangs
25. sleeping in
26. moleskine notebooks
27. public radio
28. dark-humored, canadian comic strips
29. deciding what people's daemons would be
30. sweater vests
31. button downs
32. the sexual tension in the empire strikes back
33. bar booths with ripped upholstery
34. the super nintendo entertainment system
35. hayao miyazaki
36. breakfast joints
37. cheap beer
38. libraries with ladders
39. rappers whose genesis was comic books
40. girls who are bookish with a hint of glamour
41. literary tattoos
42. "rooftop" by the envy corps
43. listening to one song on repeat for eight hours
44. sledding
45. reading other people's favorite books
46. the online edition of the new yorker
47. nytimes.com travel section slide shows
48. almost anything neil gaiman touches
49. ann curry
50. advocating book loves
51. digital delay
52. the way dave grohl plays drums
53. an ice cold fountain coke, especially when i'm hungover
54. lakes
55. autumn leaves
56. ice sculpture
57. pop culture writing
58. splitting a pitcher at the c.c. club
59. pizza by the slice
60. public transportation
61. dystopic film and fiction
62. "wonderwall"
63. reading while it snows
64. cooking with someone who knows what she's doing
65. subtext
66. theatre concerts
67. kickball
68. tazo refresh tea
69. kung pao chicken
70. shrimp etouffee
71. the sunrise across a northern minnesota lake
72. canadian chanteuses
73. the sound a needle makes when it touches a record
74. naps on the sectional
75. comic books
76. plaid
77. warm chocolate chip cookies
78. passionate people
79. mint chocolate cupcakes
80. partners in crime
81. fables and myths
82. dragons
83. a good burger
84. scrabble
85. the smell of coffee and donuts
86. furtive hand holding
87. shoreline
88. the smell of dust jackets
89. british post-punk
90. imagining what i'm going to do with my powerball winnings
91. hemingway short stories
92. playing shows
93. listening to people read their work
94. amusing others with my chopstick skills
95. farfisa
96. recording in the studio
97. the word tricksy
98. rereading tolkien
99. milkshakes with the tin
100. cinematic moments