Come on... take me out!
My insomnia's still bad. I got home at around 11 last night, was sound asleep before midnight, and was back up again by 2am.
I continued on Kavalier and Clay
, which is really, really good. No wonder it won the Pulitzer Prize. I'm still only halfway through the book, but that's not really so bad; it's a 600-page novel.
(I need to get myself a proper bookmark. I have this weird habit of using random stuff as bookmarks: post-it notes, 20-peso bills, business cards from computer dealers, my cellphone, tissue, Tapa King delivery pamphlets, this Tofi-luk wrapper my sister
left in my room last weekend, etc.)
Put on Franz Ferdinand
on repeat last night, just to sort of continue the Glaswegian theme of the week. Every time I listen to their record, I end up acquiring a new favourite track. Last night (or early this morning), it was the song Michael
, the rockingest song on the album, and also the most ironic. It features roaring guitars, and frontman Alex Kapranos in his sexiest, most manly voice, singing, "This is what I am, I am a man, so come and dance with me Michael!"
I remember Bill Simmons
once wrote about the defining songs of the '80s, and one of his criteria was that "It should make you question your own sexuality for about 0.87 seconds before you say, 'Ah, screw it, it's a good song.'" Franz Ferdinand's sound comes straight out of the '80s, so I guess this still applies. Screw it, Michael
is a good song.
Btw, if you're a fan of the band (and really, you should be), check out the mp3s section of FranzFerdinand.org
, which contains live recordings, acoustic versions, and various remixes of their songs. It's all good, although none of the stuff there is as good as the stuff on the actual album.