104

"and love will protect you to the edge of the wood.
and a monster will get you, and love does no good."

103

"i haven't got time for this mickey mouse bullshit!"

102

101

#33 on list of slightly creepy and alliterative
things i should probably not like:

taxidermy tableaux




or
"holy noah's nutty-as-a-fruitcake ark."

100

99

"a sea black with ink."

98

97

96

should:
listen to something besides kaki king,
tell you where to get off,
build a backbone.

95

i unashamedly love this goddamn song.

COLD! AS! ICE!

94

93

i missed a day and all i did was:
- bake cookies
- think about "milk" a lot
- go to a pre-hannukah party
- build an ikea desk
- drive around
- visit my old work
- agghhhh
- think a lot about you
- double agghhhh

92

91

i chopped off all my hair. no, really. all of it.

90

this is going to be harder than i thought. all of it.

89

"gonna get on that airplane and wave bye bye bye bye bye bye. bye bye baby. well baby, bye bye. bye bye baby. well, so long, next time. so long, next time."

88

yesterday i took a walk in the snow and ate french fries with my gloves on. today i just feel sad.

87

humor me, a california girl, for a few minutes.

a propos,
a new beautiful track from jack frankland, titled "icy."

86

there's a town about 15 minutes away from home that is called "the cats" in spanish. i go there sometimes to drink coffee and peer into antique shops with my mother. it always seems to rain. i don't know. i've been thinking about that a lot today. los gatos. the cats. it was supposed to snow today and it did a little, only a few lazy little snowflakes falling. as kara called it, "total sad charlie brown snow." they never touched the ground, i don't think. there's so much i want to do and i think i'm going to do it all.

85

accomplishments of today:

1. read dystopian novel against better judgment
2. returned books to library
3. ate crackers in bed
   

84

dear will robinson sheff,

there is something endlessly beautiful about the way words spill out of your mouth. there is something in that tripping rhythm that i would like to speak myself, like every phrase could fall out from between my teeth like some ship tipping over a wave. how do you do it? from "in ghosts, lit by moonlight or dawning" to "at quiet of midnight, cold and dim, they say," no, really.

love,
yael.

83

two good things:

1. this time next week i will be home. home home home.
2. "seas too far to reach"
   

82

fuck this shit (as personified by a sad harmonica-laden instrumental track by belle & sebastian).

81

dear will sheff,

"and you're out singing songs, and i'm down shouting names at the flickerless screen, going fucking insane. am i losing my cool? overstating my case? well, baby, what can i say?"

goshhhhhhh.

also just felt like saying that the daytrotter bookery has seen me through the past month, you have a lovely reading voice. and as for your subterranean song answers, i think katie nanna from mary poppins aka the bride of frankenstein is a perfectly acceptable secret shame crush. mine was that guy who played jesus of nazareth. although i never saw him play jesus of nazareth. i saw him play in this british spy thriller where he had to stalk the moors and then an adaptation of a george bernard shaw play and mostly he was just gaunt and dylan-y looking the whole time. anyway.

what i was going to say is that it has been well over three (at least, i think, maybe four?) years since i first heard "a stone" and it still just rips me up inside. thanks.

love,
yael.

80

dear will sheff,

you're all lit up. i wish i didn't love this song as much as i do.

love,
yael.

79

"bruce wayne campbell interviewed on the roof of the chelsea hotel, 1979" still reminds me of this summer, of sitting in the backseat as my father drives back from carmel, heading north on the freeway with the sky turning pink. first there are the dunes and the seaside pines and the eucalyptus trees and the grubby ground cover with little purple flowers. there's a little airport by the side of the highway and there's a mangled shell of a crashed plane lying in a field, and five different barns ready to tip right over, and row after row of garlic and beetroot, artichokes and strawberries, leafy and green with the sprinklers waving lazy arms of water. and then it's dark and there's a winding line of headlights, coming and going, and i know the hills are all yellow even in the dark, and i hear in my ear will sheff singing, "the warmth from the space lights illumines the sea as the laughingest mouths wetly open, but we set them sighing," and then i know i'm home, the stars hold me in all around, i forget the ground, i forget the crawling way real people sometimes are.

78

today was my last radio show. that's a little bittersweet but it gave me a chance to self-indulgently play my favorite songs. you can download the whole two hour show here.

77

i. mirah - 'apples in the trees'

ii.

76

thankfully not at this level of crazy
yet.

75

dear bill callahan,

"i guess everybody has their own thing that they yell into a well."

i don't know. i don't think i'm loud or angry enough to yell "fuck all y'all" into a well. i might go for a "well, um" (oh wow, seriously no pun intended) or a "goodbye?" though.

love,
yael.

74

"you don't know me, but i know you (you don't know me)
you have no idea what i do (what i do)"
(lyrics made much less menacing
by a well-placed banjo)