That's Life, I Guess
I can't figure this tune out. The lyrics weren't on the internet, which is RARE. It was recorded by Tommy Dorsey & His Orchestra and I think the vocalist is someone named Hannah Wilson? Really, I can't find anything about it ... but it's a great little recording that time is trying really hard to forget.
That's Life, I Guess
Ride on a train and the seats are all taken
Eat something’ sweet and my tooth starts in achin'
Go to the store and they’re all out of bacon
That’s life, I guess
Lie on the beach and it starts in to shower
Three minute eggs always take me an hour
Get outta here and my car loses power
That’s life, I guess
Time just goes along about this about the same
I’m without a memory to my name
Once met a boy I was sure I could glow by
Dreamed of a place where the roses could grow by
Gave him the come-onHe gave me the go-by
That’s life, I guess
Time just goes along just about this about the same
And I’m without a memory to my name
Once met a boy I was sure I could glow by
Dreamed of a place where the roses could grow by
Gave him the come-on
He gave me the go-by
That’s life, I guess
"It’s the question every writer faces, every morning of his or her life: Am I Malcolm Gladwell today, or am I Arthur Rimbaud? Do I sit down with my pumpkin latte and start Googling, or do I fire a couple of shots into the ceiling and then stick my head in a bucket of absinthe?"
August Music Mix
Here! Here are the tunes I keep going back to this month. Good, chill end-of-summer stuff for your ears to hear.
Around the House
Can't won't will not believe it's August already. It's my birthday month and I really wanted to plan a solo trip somewhere to celebrate. Stockholm for four days? Too last minute? Maybe something closer. Grand Marais? Pretty much the same thing, right?
If you haven't yet, hop over to my sister's food blog to read about my whiskey drink called the Paris Stranger. Also, I wrote about not falling in love in a cafe in Paris. My dad read it and it made him tear up for some reason. Then my parents said they were glad I didn't talk to the stranger because he was probably a jerk. Huh?
Also, here are some pics from my summer at home. It's as lovely as it looks and then some.
This isn't home. It's the pizza farm near Lake Pepin in Wisconsin that everyone in Minneapolis has been visiting. It's only open on Tuesday nights, takes about an hour-and-a-half to drive to, and you have to wait another hour-and-a-half for the pizza. So, by the time you eat, it's the best thing you've ever tasted. It's some sort of beautiful, farmy, psychological pizza trick.
