Aller-Retour

We are off to Paris early Sunday morning, and yes, the forecast indicates a reasonably high chance of rain throughout our trip.

I am actually really, really worried about my rusty French and whether I’ll be able to communicate with servers and clerks in a way that doesn’t make them point and laugh at me.  I should have brushed up a bit.

We got a reservation at Le Châteaubriand, which was featured on an episode of No Reservations and is still supposedly pretty amazing.

We’re staying smack dab in the center of town in a little apartment that couldn’t be more charming if it tried.  Here is our final Google Map, all choices vetted properly. Happy Thanksgiving to all y’all; on Thursday we’ll probably be eating veal or something equally un-American.

The Silent Year

Let the record show that 2011 was the year ‘Dredge stopped listening to music.

I know.

I know.

It doesn’t have to be this way, as one good friend said. And it doesn’t.  But it is.  There are a lot of reasons for my pathetic track record when it comes to listening to and discovering new music this year. Most of it boils to “get off my lawn” crankiness.  My newish job is fast-paced and doesn’t afford me a wireless connection to stream music, not to mention that for the time being I’m sitting in an open desk surrounded by the chattering class.

I lost and bought and lost a couple of dozen mp3 players (recall that I was the last person in the US of A to own a Zune before that product line shuttered).  I let my subscription to eMusic lapse, which caused me to never download new music ever.  I’ll only do things – go to the gym, go to yoga, download music – if I’ve prepaid for the privilege and feel like I’m not getting my money’s worth if I don’t.

I’ve tried and failed to adequately figure out how to optimize Grooveshark and Spotify.  I like having my entire music collection on one tidy device, so my iPhone is out.  I hate having to create meticulous playlists.  I hate having to go back and switch out tracks when I get bored of the ones I have on there.

Plus, I live in Vancouver, WA instead of Portland now, so fighting traffic to get home and then go back “into town” for a show is almost out of the question these days.  I think I’ve been to one show this year, and it was the Flaming Lips, to whom I swore a blood oath of perpetual attendance at all future shows, so.

To top it off, I commute via car these days. My car is a cherished workhorse, but the stereo system is almost entirely shot. If I put a CD in, there’s no guarantee I’ll ever get it out unless I go at it with a pair of tweezers.  And my car’s old enough (2003) that I have no output to hook in my iPhone. My car doesn’t even have a goddamn tape deck!

I don’t deserve a trace of sympathy, I know. But what would you have me do under these circumstances? I don’t mind not being up on whatever new bands are out there — I’m old, I’m over it — but at this point I’m rarely even listening to my own music collection because it’s so inconvenient. Go on, water me with your crocodile tears.