i told my friend last night, “if i don’t wake up in 20 minutes, kill me.”

death is coming my way.
none of the work i needed to finish has been finished. i have a paper due at 5 (haven’t started) and need to get these photos up (haven’t started), so i’ll be tryin’ my best to multitask.

fucking alarm clock.

Gillman, after (successfully?) overcoming pneumonia.

i rented a crazy intense camera from the art & design building at school.
it makes thingz look fun!

the only good part about airports are traveling walkways and cinnabon.
(well, and loudly asking gillman, “did you ever get those tuberculosis test results?” as she coughed her way through a flight)

like dog tags…but not.

dinner, animal style.
(i had better pictures, but they’re missing. if only you could share in our caitlin cooper glory. sorry, folks.)

i once got peed on at the canopy club.
it was while i was in front row at an umphrey’s mcgee show, and the drunk high school kid behind me couldn’t handle himself with all the gatorade and shitty vodka flowing through his veins, and he whipped it out and peed on me.
now, i’m not technically saying that this counts as atmosphere…but it’s a hell of a lot different than the snoozefest crowd at this show.
of montreal was fantastic as always, but you’d never know it by looking at the lifeless crowd.
for the most part, no one bobbed, no one wiggled, no one danced.
it was bright, it was clean, and it was running waaaay ahead of schedule.
three bands hustled in and out in two hours so that a skanky dance party could occur. and though this photo looks fist pump-tastic, it was only the superfans in the front.
moral of the story: canopy is better than other places, of montreal deserved a more energetic audience (because they’re amazing), and i don’t think i like getting urinated on.

obsession.

“there’s a thousand you’s but only one of me” - kanye
if i wouldn’t have bought my dream sweater here, you would be able to spot me on the quad cam wearing these babies.

diddy riese instructions:
1. pick any two cookies
2. pick an ice cream flavor
3. fork over only $1.50
4. enjoy your cookie sandwich

her dream shirt has a paint stain.
it CAME dirty.
(how dreamy.)

coming this afternoon: the getty! expensive gowns! actors! spoon and feist! farmer’s market! alex’s birthday!

i’m broke and paying a ton for internet, so here’s a quick update:

Alton from The Real World just helped Gillman pick out cheesy souvenirs in the airport gift shop and I’ve had more Coffee Bean and In N Our burger than I’d ever want, EVER.

I think that’s enough to hold you until after the plane ride.

xoxo,
carlye

just a few notes before my awful short-term memory poops out on me:

of montreal’s show was doors 7, show 8.
naturally, we were running late, but got there at 9:30ish.
we missed everything but the encore.

(since when does a triple-billed show last less than two hours?!? there was a line of half-naked slutty girls and mohawk-wearing dudes waiting to get in. i guess we had to leave so they could dance to their shitty music.)

the band was great as usual, but the venue was not. too clean, too bright, too much lack of atmosphere, too vast, too infested with children.
( i literally saw a fifth-grader who will probably wear that Hissing Fauna t-shirt to his 6th grade health class. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.)

the canopy show left me covered in other peoples’ sweat. the avalon show left me fucking confused.

next, we went to Amoeba records.
$100 poorer, but a lot happier.

the vinyl i snapped up:
Iron and Wine, The Shepherd’s Dog
Okkervil River, The Stage Names
Band of Horses, Cease To Begin
Spoon, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga and Kill The Moonlight
Jose Gonzales, In Our Nature

went to popkiller, some rando vintage boutique.
we all got our dream items:
for me, a poo-brown lacoste sweater.
for davis, a multi-colored puffy vest a la FOTC’s Bret.
for gillman, a mint green supersoft led zeppelin tshirt.
(see, dreams do come true in cali!)

we drove past Ketchup. and shrieked.
(remember how spencer sent that drink over to LC when her and jason were there and heidi and spencer were too and then later when she was at the Teen Vogue office, LC told Whitney that, “homeboy would poison it”? ahhhhhhhhh)

seriously though, a triple-billed show lasted only two hours?

we’re here.
airport summary: i pack too much, gillman only requires a t-shirt and a wallet to survive, alex had to walk barefoot in the airport (right, because she’d be hiding a bomb in her moccasins) and almost cried, the awkwardly attractive boy sitting across the aisle from us was frightened by our continuous staring (what! he was beautiful!).

phone calls to gillman’s mom today: 3.
close calls: 1.

gill: i’m going for a walk to downtown champaign.
mom: it’s pitch black outside!!
gill: it’s not dark out!
gill, thinking: fuck, time change.
(gillman’s mom doesn’t know we flew across the country. let’s see how this goes.)

celebrity sightings tally: 1.
Who: Willa Holland
What: Kaitlin Cooper from The OC
Where: In N Out Burger in Westwood
Wait, Who The Fuck Is That?: Wikipedia.
Word: Ordered a few in front of us. With a total scenester boy who possibly and probably was in a band we listen to and make fun of other people for not knowing. Spent an…interesting amount of time in the bathroom. “In N Out” pun intended.

more to come. the art and design building lent me a gigantically intense camera. that i don’t know how to use. supermegapixel fun awaits.