monday evening, technically tuesday morning

sounds like: having No Rest for the Wicked with Lykke Li, bang bang - being shot down by Nico Vega, Witchy Woman, and finding the modern Wolf with Sylvan Esso. After a few months' hiatus, I've jumpstarted via vina again. I've missed it and have fallen out of habit of remembering my dreams. 

tastes like: Fried green tomatoes straight from the garden. The tomatoes, not the frying, though game over if someone invents a fried tomato plant. Do you remember the hot dog tree in Big Top Pee-Wee? Shoot, that just might be my favorite part of that movie, second to when Winnie threw the egg salad sandwiches into the creek when she caught Pee Wee macking on Gina. Figures my favorite scenes would involve food. 

feels like: I need to move (oh, that might be a thing, hopefully no more of this hour commute nonsense - we'll see what happens), I need to start a website (remember when I was talking about that last year? Me too.), and I just need to get shit done. 

smells like: summer rain. 

photo via somewhere in the tumblrsphere. I want a flatfile in my studio!

friday evening: today we celebrate our independence day

sounds like: one of the best: Dolly Parton's Jolene. Fall(ing) In Love with Phantogram. I don't want to fight it - The Feeling with The Knocks. Having Good Day(s) with Nappy Roots. Hearing it through the Kaiser Chiefs' Grapevine. Going to be the type of night...you hope it never ends - BST FRNDS with Spirit Animal. 

tastes like: Great burger at Amphora Diner with Peter Lee. The fries were on point, as were the kid's meal pancakes we ordered when we saw them on a neighboring table. Hand-shaken iced coffee at Coffe Amouri. Peter Lee cracks me up. Remind me to tell you about his trip back from Denver. Even better, he should create a blog and tell you himself. I didn't grow up with brothers and, aside from my older male cousins, Peter Lee would be the closest I've come to having a brother. 

feels like: a. ohhhhhh, suddenly it all makes sense. Ah well, c'est la vie. b. This is fun and I'm going to see where it goes. c. I think I'm going to make mixtapes for people. d. It's the Fourth of July and fireworks are going off outside my window and I didn't do anything patriotic save for wearing red, white, and blue. Truth of the matter is, today was a chill Friday and I don't have enough of those. 

smells like: Summer peach lotion. I'm trying to live, breathe, and feel that summer peach scent. Summer is here. 

Photo via 6senseshawty

it's only just Monday morning, but we all know it's still Sunday evening.

sounds like: the Long Time, Wrong Time with Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings (soon at 9:30 Club!), Jimmy Edgar turning me inside and out, and Battle Tapes' Sweatshop Boys making me want to fight crime or dance against walls (hell, maybe both) and, if y'all haven't realized this by now - baby, I'm Good For You. Mr. Hudson, you can be good for me anytime.

tastes like: Pink cupcakes and Prosecco at Vivi's birthday, an abundance of green tea amid a sea of sick and surly chefs, and comfort food duck wonton soup in frigid-ass January. I slept in full long johns and a hoodie last night. That's how cold it is. I constantly crave soup. 

feels like: Accomplishment of today's list, though mundane and tedious, I really do like doing the everyday type things. Tonight I sleep on freshly-laundered sheets and watch the new episode of The Following. It's probably sad over how happy that just made me. Side note, iTunes is on shuffle and Emmure's death metal guttoral screaming just scared the hell out of me. That's what you get when you get a Henna Tattoo That Says Forever. 

smells like: Jasmine perfume. I haven't worn it in awhile for various reasons, mainly because it was in a tote bag I stopped using, partly because the olfaction keeps triggering memories that cause me to want things I can't have. 

Photo from last Thursday at Izakaya Seki/Daikaya for a ramen date with Monica & Russell to celebrate his new position at Jack Rose. So so so happy for him. 

Thursday evening

sounds like: the greatness that is Peter Stormare and Djimon Hounsou in Constantine. There was a period of time when I watched Constantine every night before bed. I think I liked it because it was dark (visually) and the light didn't bother me from sleeping. CCR putting a spell on me. Going good together like treble and reverb with Aaradhana. Sending a heartbeat to The Smashing Pumpkins. 

tastes like: Flu meds. A ramekin of butternut squash soup and a few hunks of cheese while I was still at the Fair. I think J felt sorry for me. I'm not one of those, “oh I got this, work through the illness” kind of people. I'm like that for about twenty minutes and then, “Leave alone to die, I just want to take a bath and nap” kind of people. (It's a lot less pathetic then it sounds, I promise.) I woke up from a four hour nap and had a small bowl of pho. Maybe I'll make rice soup for breakfast. Asian soups are wholly comforting to me. 

feels like: I've got a lot to do so might as well do it. I'm cooking a vegan/vegetarian dinner on Saturday. I've yet to write the menu. I'm thinking whipped hazelnut dip with fall crudités and purple potato gnocchi. I could go Southern, I love Southern. What's the vegetarian equivalent of shrimp & grits? Vegetable hash and grits? I could probably make vegan mac & cheese and collards. Wait, no ham bone for my broth? Shit. Ok, I'll think about this while I fold laundry and catch up on episodes of Elementary. 

smells like: I have a pot of lemon thyme on my nightstand. It's as wonderful as it sounds. 

photo via Instagram

Wednesday evening

sounds like: the lemonade mix cd that Stephanie made me two years ago. It contains all kinds of wonderful songs by The Ink Spots, Nat King Cole, Pomplamoose, Doris Day, and Django. 

tastes like: roasted eggplant with balsamic vinegar over raw kale, green tea, and fresh ginger/apple/carrot juice. 

feels like: It should not have been 70 degrees on the first day of February. Reading Sartre's No Exit with a warm winter breeze through my open window which should be mildly depressing but is oddly pleasant. The music and breeze makes up for the "I'm stuck in hell's waiting room with two people I hate" existentialism. 

smells like: vanilla perfume, fresh laundry, and the promise of cold weather in the air. 

photo via Sandra Juto