"What's that whirly thing coming out of his stomach?"

Before I start off, let me tell all of you how stinkin' difficult it is to transpose John Lennon's "Imagine" into the key of F#. My sister and I are doing a duet where I am tickling the ivory's and she is using her ridiculous pipes to create modern melodic GENIUS. Sort of. Unfortunately, Corn-n-beans can't hit all of the notes in the original key of C, so, me being the accompianist, she forced the duty of transposing it to a key she can actually sing in to em-ua.

That is that.

It is difficult.

End of prologue to post.

So, yesterday was music nostalgia day, where you listen to all of the music that you used to listen to at least three years ago. It was weird to go through my compact disc collection and see how much my taste in music has changed over the years. My tastes have come and passed in phases, most starting when I was but a wee lass of only eight years old. I will now go through a brief recollection of these phases, starting from THE WOMB.

• During fetushood, I listened to many concertos and operas, as controlled by my parental unit. This passion of music blossomed as I grew from a small feti to a larger feti, where I was then introduced to
• Broadway musicals. My mother being an actress and still doing shows during this time in my fetushood nurtured my love of Vaudeville and all things catchy, thus resulting in glamorous headshots and me exiting the womb doing jazz hands.
• A few years later, I went through a music phase where I only listened to bands such as ATC, A*Teens, and that one "Clear the Air" anti-drug CD the elementary school gave my sister. {And let us not forget the ever-infectious Hamster Dance on the only album by Hampton and the Hampsters.}
• My next phase occured when I was much older, eight years old to be exact. At this age started my still-current phase and love/hate relationship with Nevada-neighboring-natives The Killers. Me and The Killers have been on and off for the past six years. Don't talk to me about it. We are on an "off" stage. Brandon Flowers broke my heart and all he left me were four records, darn it! Just kidding. But not really. Maybe?
• When I was also that age my love for The Beatles started to fester exceedingly and my insurmountable affection for the Fab Four began. From this period in my life branched out numerous records, anthologies, biographies, autobiographies, posters, t-shirts, haircuts {heh heh heh}, and calendars all having to do with them. I ate up every little bit of information I ever learned about them. And I even remembered it, too. Needless to say, I was, and still am, obsessed.
• From this phase brought my phase of washed-up emo bands {Paramore? Panic! At the disco? Boys like girls? All time low? Cute is what we aim for?!?} Gosh, what was I thinking? I don't know? Um, KILL ME NOW. {And when I say that I am not referring to the song off of the Killers' album, Sawdust. I mean literal slaughterhouse-nine-if-you-catch-my-drift.}
• For the years that followed, I was a lost soul. My musical preference shifted and changed into one awful mess.
• Next was the coming of the end of seventh grade. This is was a blur between Lexi Sayok, The Bravery, Switches, Love You Long Time, and endless slurs of O.K. Ikumi remixes of Drew Danburry songs. I was beginning to become a bona-fide localite, which led to..
• Now.

I have many musicians that I like. Just like movies. You should never limit yourself to one genre.

And speaking of movies {watch me as I tie in everything!} Yesterday I watched Help! by the mop tops themselves. Tribal ring on Ring-o! Death threats! Eight-armed statues! Hit songs! WACKINESS ENSUES!

I also watched half of the British television series State Of Play, and all because James McAvoy was in it. I am shallow, yes.

ABRUPT END!

Once a plumbers' daughter, always a plumbers' daughter.

Folks-

I am temporarily back from my internet hiatus. All of these absurd occurrences and inspirations have been happening to me lately, and I really have had the best intentions to tell you. I just haven't had the resources. So, now I sit here, mindlessly typing away while trying to recollect all of the things I wanted to post about.

This type of thing happens far too often.

I promise an actually good post within the next few days. But in the meantime.....

Localite Drew Danburry has to be by far one of my favorite musicians of this time.
My sister, Corn met him and his wife back when he was still a bearded gilligan. She has video of him singing primary songs. Ridiculously epic videos, mind you.

Drew's music is fun. Its tunes' are catchy, its lyrics unsuspected and unpredictable. The fact that he can practically scream at the top of his lungs and have a piccolo playing in the background of his songs is not something unusual for Drew. And the funny thing is, it actually sounds really good. Not many people have that talent.

Drew is a modern poet, a modern artist. You can feel all the hard work and determination he has put into his songs, and you can definitely tell that he enjoys it.

Not to mention he writes songs about how much he loves his wife:




And makes music videos about mac and cheese eating contests:




And also this.......one...




I don't exactly understand it either, but it is a catchy song nonetheless.

Regards,
Lexi

{ www.drewdanburry.blogspot.com}

Funny story...

So, blogger just erased everything about my blog pretty much. I have to start from scratch: work from the ground up. It's awful, that's what it is.

I hate technology.

Sunday Inspiro.

{actually title The Mariner's Revenge Song}

Soak it in, folks.

Thread-lassie

Recently I've been trying to convince myself that I am a good enough artist to submit designs to Threadless. This is my first and still incomplete attempt. I would love to get all the input I can on it. {Good, bad, and ugly too.}

My inspiration was kind of a play on words. I wanted to incorporate the feel of modern street art with an olde time word to create something somewhat witty and a titch ironic . When finished it will have a feather quill writing the word, possibly in black India ink and outlined with my own calligraphic quill.

I have high hopes with this one. I want to follow through with it.

I need the input. Seriously.

Springeth Breaketh.

I went here.

Ate here.

{photo courtesy of Spin Cafe}

Read about and vowed to one day meet her. {Him? Whatever}

{photo courtesy of http://www.cityweekly.net/. Edited my me via Paint}

Listened to her.

{photo courtesy of EHP}

Pretended to be an evil villain on the Heber Creeper.

Pretended to be an old train movie scene on the Heber Creeper.

Pretended to wait for the Heber Creeper.

Gave pudding to this lovely little Gilligan.

{photo courtesy of Marzji unknowingly but I didn't think she'd mind since she's the only one who ever reads this anyways so I thought it was an exception and I just love run-on sentences they are so great, you know?}

Pretended to be a good photographer. {HA! Yeah right.}

-Lexi Vivienne

no passion in plastics.

Hey folks!!

• First off, E.H.P was AMAZING. She started the concert off with this improvization with her loop feed. It is absurd how wonderful she is at her craft. She told us all these funny stories about New York and her cello and how she loves songs that say "woo!" and "hey!" {We even did that a few times during the show.} She was so funny and so personable, I'm pretty sure you couldn't hate her even if you tried. She was so original and unique. Her dress was a lovely aquamarine color and her bullet haircut had the tips dyed red. I was second row back too, which was RIDICULOUS. She even had her own homemade record player fashioned out of a safety, a pencil and a paper cone.

• The opening act was spiffy too. His name was Luke Williams. Looked like Beck when he had long hair, and his face was gorgeous. His sound was so authentic, raw and organic. His lyrics made you think and his hair was so supple and shiny and it looked so smooth and GAH! I loved him.

• So, conference was yesterday and saturday. Conference makes me so pumped foreward, and so depressed afterwards. I mean, I love conference. It brings me so much joy and makes me feel like such a good person, but when it is over, I feel all empty and sad. Which is probably the opposite of how it should be.

• I got my haircut today. Hans, the haircutter-man, went a little scissor-happy and now I look like a man. Woo-ee-oo. I look just like Buddy Holly and Merle Haggard. Wo-oh and you're Mary Tyler Moore.

Sterotypical dweeby men like to ingest goats that do karate in the summertime.

So cheap and juicy!

Hey folks. I don't have time to post anything about my long week. I wish I had time to tell you all about my awkward first meeting with my boss, or how I made friends with a handicapped girl during the run of the play, or the fact that the play even happened at all, or the sweet french-man card I made for Jeff the assistant director that I didn't once think about taking a picture of.{think stereotypical French man meets Kershisnik and Chomet}I wish I had time to tell you about how we bawled before the second act because we found out one of the cast members' friends' was in the hospital because her appendix burst. I wish I could tell you about how my outfits were incredibly boring this week or how I am chopping off my hair next week and possibly dyeing it blond. I wish I could tell you how I am seeing this lovely lady in concert tonight.

I wish I could tell you how I mastered the slouchy beanie and how she wrote this song yesterday for her 365 project {I wish I could tell you that the 365 project is where Emily writes a new song every day for a year} or that she was on KRCLyesterday morning and I missed it.

I wish I could tell you all about my long week, but alas, there is no time.