I don't get why people say he's gloomy. He's Tragickal and Amusing.

IF you listen to the lyrics. The music itself hits the "OMG! Kill me now!" button.

And of course I'm evil. I just hide it.

This is why I never listen to that I Hope You Dance song.

Bwah! Her voice grates on me. The nasal tone constantly makes me think she's a shade flat.

idea of the Bitchlist

I think we have the name.

How long are you expected to be there? It may not help much, but you are more than welcome to come visit us in Italy. Hopefully I'll be there next summer, and there's plenty of room in the condo. Southern Italy isn't as glamourous as the northern portion, but it's got a charm all of its own.

I hope the job sitch works itself out for you.

Oh, and speaking of, interview-ma to P-C!

Ditto!

Skinny Puppy and Front 242

Ooooh... I haven't heard those names since high school. The lightbulb-powered alternative station played "Welcome To Paradise" just about 24/7, which seemed appropriate for Tulsa.

Though I never developed a deep and abiding love for The Smiths/Morrissey or The Cure. Music shouldn't make me want to slit my wrists.

I listened to the Cure and Smiths (and have a varying assortment of their CDs and tapes hanging about here), but I never was a big fan. I really wasn't into Depeche at all.

I would get an F-minus-minus on any goth test, despite hanging out with goths in college. I guess I graviatated more towards the stoners, even with my rampant lack of drug use.

What I don't get, though, is how I could absolutely despise country music from birth through college, yet now would love to be the filling of a Neko Case-Laura Cantrell sandwich. Or Alison Krauss' love slave. Or Kasey Chambers' babydaddy. Or be Harold to Loretta Lynn's Maude. Or have a bed-sharing agreement with the Be Good Tanyas.

Oh, Susan's going to kill me.

Perhaps it could be an addition to the list that Deena maintains. Or not. I may very well be talking out of my ass.

I love the idea. I was thinking about asking people to update with some additions anyway--especially e-mail addresses, since gmail didn't exist when I first started it and lots of people have switched.

I really wasn't into Depeche at all.

My first alt-music love. Though their latest few attempts at an album suck like a hooker on the strip. It's sad to say, but David Gahan was never the same once he sobered up. (Not that I advocate staying drunk and/or high, and I'd rather he live a long-ish life than make another Music for the Masses.)

Susan's going to kill me.

No way, no how. (ref. her lust for Sean Bean)

edit: Must. Close. Parens.

It may not help much, but you are more than welcome to come visit us in Italy.

Thanks! And back atcha, for when you and the new DH are in the Med.

Deena! Great suggestion about illustrations - I'm working on it right now.

Deena, I know why I'm still up, but why are you still up? I hope it's not a flare-up.

(Can I use the word "up" any more?)

Though their latest few attempts at an album suck like a hooker on the strip. It's sad to say, but David Gahan was never the same once he sobered up.

Really? I think Martin's songwriting got way less self-indulgent handstapleforehead, starting with Music for the Masses (though there's still some of it there), so I find that almost everything I listen to is off that or later. Well, okay. I own my love for Black Celebration (the song) and Stripped.

And they still kicked live ass in 2001. Though for the love of Mike, someone tell Dave to please, please, please keep the shirt on his pasty white self.

OK, perhaps I exaggerated a bit. The disappointment really started with Ultra, but hit full force with Exciter. There's a new one coming out in October, and I won't buy this one without taking it for a test listen first.

Though for the love of Mike, someone tell Dave to please, please, please keep the shirt on his pasty white self.

ITA. It's not a pretty sight. And they've always kicked ass live. Probably will continue to do so when they're dead, too.

Maria, sorry, Nick came to me with tale of woe and there was much motherly comforting. He's feeling restless, rootless, almost 20 and what am I gonna do-less.

I am still up because, though this flare-up seems to be going away, I got a not too terrible tummy bug of some sort and sleeping wasn't an option, what with not having a toilet in the bedroom. I'm about to go try now, though.

eta: thanks, Raq. I'm glad you like it.

Night lovelies. I hope you all get adequate amounts of rest tonight.

And they still kicked live ass in 2001. Though for the love of Mike, someone tell Dave to please, please, please keep the shirt on his pasty white self.

Oh dear, yes.

God, that was a mind-fuck, though, to go to the show and then realize that it'd been fifteen years since I'd last seen them. I can't be that old, can I?