Wednesday, May 20, 2009

The Merman Memorial Day Mix

So I wake up and it goes like this...5:30 am: Run. Shower. Breakfast. 11 minute walk to the station. 25 minutes N Train. 13 Minutes 1 train to W Houston Street. 2 minutes from the subway stop to the 4th floor.

Every morning I fashion my own personal assembly line, to most efficiently and effectively get my busted ass collected before a 10 hour work day. Most days I find that each new blip on my iPod makes the daily traipse a little easier. This week I hit shuffle on my library and collected the 1st 600 songs that came up, and in particular this week had as an 88mph Delorian effect over me. There I am on the N train... and like one of those really bad Soap Opera running-out-of-storylines-previous-life flashback episodes... I'm right back in Ohio, sitting on my riverbank on the last day of school. Or, driving around Huntington on a warm Sunday afternoon sunning off a hangover.

So if I wanted to go, where everyone knew my name... I guess these are the bastards I'd like to see there. And this mixtape goes to you. Memorial Day A la Mulberry.

So, you, little sex muffin, have been my best friend since our super awkward pre-pubescent break up in 2000. Every time Apple Shampoo graces my buds in the morning, I think of making Crillin42@hotmail.com and sitting on the picnic table talking about all the things guys and girls aren't supposed to talk about. I really kind of don't know how to handle being without my OpBrah, and wasting too much time with Wall bound LOL cats caught on camera ... and most of all: Christopher Lewis Meinheart.


3. Don't Stop Believin- Journey
Beside the fact that we have a borderline connubial relationship with one another, you really have been the best friend to me over the past year... and probably longer. Also, I don't think someone has ever physically made me pee my pants the way you do. Yeah. You make me pee myself. That's love, bitch. While this ditty might be the SJS FO' LIFE MAH FUCKA anthem... My heart exclusively longs for our debauched howling attempts at Steve Perry's highest. Can we please talk about Duck faces? And slapping each others faces off our faces?...and Ernest Mystic Tanning?

I think it's safe to safe I can use my favorite analogy for feelings when it comes to you. They're like Fish hooks. I pick one up, and they all come tumblin' out. We've had some Shitsqualls, but more precious moments of psuedopsychology. And for some reason you're stillllll nice to me. Strange. I guess two assholes really can get a long. And the fact that we have the music compatibility of Jesus Mary and Joseph doesn't hurt either. I miss kicking you out of my apartment....and drinking SoCo and lime out on my patio until 5am... while the Malloyopolis above you falls asleep on my couch at TEN PM.

Every time I hear this song I think of riding down 4th avenue in your car with the warm air flowing through my fingertips; trying so desperately to remember the night before. Very few housemate situations ever end nicely, but I think ours was a complete and total seraphic experience. I'll miss your stupid black velvet couch, complete with built in cassette player, every day. I might miss you as well, but I'm still trying to figure out if it's actually you, watching Weeds, wine on the back porch, or if it's just poor judgement from all the Speedy Dogs.


I think 'tis safe to safe that roughly 1/5th of the shuffle reminds me of you, but these seemed most fitting. That is only because I'm reserving the vast amounts of the Griffin McElroy Echo Reserve for another mixtape and another day. Oh, how I miss your creativity, completely unburdened by sanity... I only have one, long sentence for you, Sir. The combination of your existence, Mr. Minkser, Rockband marathons, coffee thievery, pitchers of rubbing alcohol and coke combined with bacchanalian interpretive dance (per Jesse Clark's not at all redundant boogie night convolution), Sorkin soaked TV marathons, Eternal Darkness, and the constant pursuit of Joystiq worthy adjectives... my summer, and subsequent sanity, was fully reinstated. I just want to hear you sing, "Bra-AAAAA-DLY WHIT-ford!" one more time.

14. Crossing Boundaries - NPR
For anyone who doesn't know, Mr. Minsker is, indeed, the Herman Merman to My Mulberry moniker. We also have a Bassit Hound, Sherman Merman, complete with a monocle and foppish demeanour. Intially you were my advtising antagonist, and then I realized you were the Yin to mah Yang. While I fluttered in an out of campaigns, you kept the internal team motivated. Salutations, comrade! Oh, and we both have approximately 95 year old souls. I could really go for one of those Sailor Jerry saturated NPR evenings overlooking the river...with our Rainmain Griffin. I even miss falling alseep mid-Casablanca, for the 3rd time in a row.

15. Mexico - Jump, Little Children
Sometimes there are friends in this world that just
know how to make you feel 100% better. In your case it was quite simple; requiring only a smily face caesar salad and a spoon of DooDoo. Okay, maybe it was more of your kind temperament and complete judgement-free faith you have in me... but we'll go with the Doo Doo. While you did provide me with Jump's complete discography, every time I hear Mexico I think of you. My calm among many storms. With the exception of one of your sunny side up elbows, you are definitely the smartest, most level headed chef this side of the Mississippi.


While I'm sure Joe will undoubtedly dispute that Daft Punk should DEFINITELY remind me of him... all I can think of is us sitting in a Gulf Shores time share with a bottomless canteen of Hurricanes, and you singing both of these songs at the top of your lungs. For someone whom I've hung out with a handful of times in my life, you definitely have made your impression, and the extra 9.5 hours between us is visible. It doesn't even matter that I only saw you once every 6 months anyway. Out of all the friends I know are coming to New York soon, you, my friend, are the only one I'm willing to risk jail time for. Just sayin'....

18. Sleep - Copeland
My lonely fellow Copeland fan. Sean you are the epitome of a perfect gentleman. And your kind, by definition, is extinct in New York. No joke! I don't think you realize just how much I miss your laughter (I mean come on! Who wouldn't miss that Guffaw!?) and your kind spirit. You were definitely my spiritual guru of the house. There was nothing you weren't excited about, but you were especially fond Jesus and Marshall Football. No matter what, you had the words... and the tunes! So keep up the good work and come bring some of your rays of sunshine to the Big Apple.

19. No Sleep till Brooklyn - Beastie Boys
Oh how I miss your hemisphere of platinum blonde, pseudo boxing around on the Echo dance floor. Every time I hear this little jig it reminds me of roughly 2:30 am at Echo. Everyone drenched in sweat and old pitchers of rum. We hear the guitar riff, and from whatever conversation about grappling you where in, you burst out on the floor just in time for the first fist pumping chorus line. From that moment I knew we were destined to eat 4am pancake feasts and save evil black cats from any normal domestication.

20. We Like to Party - Venga Boys
Sorry Hilbill. Had to pick the stupid songs I could think of in your case. Mainly because whenever I hear them, they make me laugh and miss you like crazy. You used to get so very mad at me when I'd play the Venga boys tape over and over. And your little 12 yr old heart would swoon when you heard when you really love a woman. I always got on your ass about your music selection reflecting your romances... but these are TOTALLY and complete just you :). Also, honorable mention includes Michelle Branch - just see you (?) in honor of our equally embarrassing White Chicks obsession.

Oh Brother! There is nothing I can say about you that can be any more fitting than this song. I admired you so much for your jovial disposition and fearlessness to say anything. And the fact that no matter where I went in the Tri-state area EVERYONE knew who you were. Everyone! It was ridiculous. Gee Thanks! ...For making it impossible to be the coolest Keller in the family. Even though we didn't grow up in the same house, we've always had a secret evil sibling bond. Jamie and Hilary were the kind hearted sweeties, and you and I? Well... we were kind of assholes. But hey, the funny kind that get away with it! Love you brother.

23. Lets Make this moment a crime - The Format
It's kind of weird.... It's been more than 5 days since your last "You are Beautiful!" text... and I am noticeably disheveled. If there is one thing I know about your diaper wearin' whiskey lovin' ass, it's that what you play and what you listen to are entirely different. On stage, there you are with your sleeve of hardass tat's, screaming your balls off and throwing spit and sweat into the mosh pit; and then you hop in your Scion to the tender hearts of The Format or Glen Hansard. You're a big teddy bear trapped in a rocker's bod, aren'tcha dear? My memories of you and The Hyamp are eternally intertwined, so it only seams natural for me to think of you whenever I hear Hit The Lights, my all time favorite Huntington venue experience. Oh, and YOU are beautiful!

I think we both know why this is your song! After only having the Ting Tings for 6 months after the release date... I turned it in my the skin of my teeth. I miss you my fellow fearless female Snob rocker!


I know, I know! No Hilary Duff? Sorry. No matter how much I love you, I will NEVER, ever put her on my mixtapes! However, I was walking down St. Marks the other day, and I kid you not. What do I hear? MCFLY! I had a moment of silence for you. Throughout college, we WERE the odd couple. You were my best friend throughout missed morning shows, botched concert attempts, stupid boyfriends, and of course, spilled apple juice. Now... if I can just answer my phone for podcasts....

9th grade: ICQ: Eggy: Will you go to my senior prom with me? (Note: circa 2000) Winks182: Omg! Yes! ... and thus our friendship began. It's funny that I have more fond memories of St. Joe high school friends than I do my own Alma Mater. You were definitely one of the first to pave the way. i'll never forget the first time I came to your 4th of July party in 8th grade; you were the home skillet, Ryan was the homefry, and I was the Tater tot. I don't know if you remember, but this was the song playing when you picked me up for prom. It was the first time I remember liking Incubus, and I'm still kind of baffled and disturbed as to why I remember that. Or any of this for that matter. You are expressly, far and above, my favorite St. Joe jerkface.

Hey Aaron! A boy and a girl went to school. (Elbow jab.) Roughly 75% of the things that make us laugh are foreign concepts to anyone else. All I know is that you were my best girlfriend since 1st grade when we started raising hell at Haverhill United Methodist church. So, with that, I only have one thing to say: Let us hold a moment of silence for our fellow Grasshopper. He was such a good bug.


31. Where does the good go - tegan and sarah
1.HILDALGO! 2. MEL C FELL! 3. MEL C FELL! AHHH! I don't know if there will ever be a better match made in hell than us. Throughout school you were one of the 2% of girls that I actually liked, even when were were feuding about Riverdays sucker campaign tactics. Oh how I miss yelling during YMC at the top of my lungs at Ryan Holbrook with you. No matter how crazy you feel, and no matter how far away you are, I'm pretty sure you'll still be my favorite punk rockin' lady.

32. A milli - Lil Wayne
"Young Jeezy speaks to my soul." Really Alex? Really? I don't know how. And I don't exactly know why, but you have become of of those life-timer friends. Even though our musical tastes are monstrously opposite. And you make fun of my wrist slitting, patchouli/angst incensed club Echo. AND I've physically had to prevent you from cussing out all your girl friends. Sigh, what can I say, you're my little social butterfly. How can I not respect someone who takes impromptu weekend trips to Orlando with no agenda but to make as many friends as possible? That's my kinda man.


33. What's a girl to do? - Bat for Lashes
Albert. I'm sorry Chelsea Handler just isn't cutting it. Despite your scarily similar senses of humor, her show combined with repeated viewings of Juno can never replace you. ... And huffing my Strawberry daiquiri body spray is becoming quite disturbing. Question: Do you remember when we memorized our AIM pitch via jumping on hotel beds? Because I have yet to find a more invigorating memorization technique. But really? I miss your face. and your musk. And most of all, your MEOW.

34. Aliens Exist - Blink 182
Emiloo, Emili, Emilee, Emilow, Emlew! This has officially been the longest amount of time I have gone without smearing body lotion on your face or messing up your perfect tresses... and I'm pretty cheesed off about it. You are literally the only person whom I've peed my pants around. Oh. Wait, thats not true at all. However, you are the only person whom I have shared all of life's awkward ordeals with. And really bad Halloween costumes. And. Well. Pretty much everything. What the hell are you going to do anyway when you and Dodson go to the courthouse to get that marriage certificate and you realize I've already married us legally in the state of Vermont? And I'm not givin' us up lady!

35. Poker Face - Lady Gaga
Oh Benjy, why are you so beautiful? I think the first time I saw you in person my skin literally melted off my face. Whenever I grace all my gal pals with the presence of your pictures (which I frequently do to 1) Show off 2) well, just show off) we turn into the Tiger Beat OMGLIKEWHOA hot boy of the month fan club. But with all that aside, I'm so very glad it was you who I found on Craiglist instead of that med school Boston jerk who keeps killin' all those ladies. Shew! I'm glad I wasn't offering massages either. This song will forever remind me of your beautiful face, and maybe a little of that shuffle shuffle kick ball change, turn, step, arabesque!

You know Mark? The first time we held a conversation about music, I went home and quickly informed every single person I knew that I had, indeed, met my musical soul mate. The stars aligned. The birds sang. The angels literally came down from the heavens and kissed me on the face. And then you made me listen to Foxy Shazam. Really Mark?! The image was then shattered. However, you did make quite a theatrical impression on my CD library. And a huge dent in my popsicle supply. While we hardly speak, there is one thing I've been meaning to tell you, "RANCH, LISA!" Sigh.. I miss your precious soul!

From the moment I decided to invite myself to the single most important historical event in our generation's history over a game of beer pong, I knew we were destined to share half thought out amazing experiences together. I had the MOST amount of awesome going to D.C. with you, and sharing witness to the 1st annual midnight white house egghunt. Not to mention, hope coming out of one's ass should always be shared with a friend. If at one point in time we had been given physical proximity, based on your iPod repertoire intoxicant consumption preferences, I think there is definite potential for a great friendship.

Hacky Sack King? Video Game connoiseur? Pioneer of Purple Rain? Is there anything you can't do? For some reason, every single conversation ever brought up around Bobby Glasser has ld to his inexorable expertise on the subject. And I kind of like it! Bobby you will never know how much I miss your sassy pants dancing at Echo, or Bobby G. Passout 5000 after a night of too much hot tub and booze. So, please get out of Parkersburg for 2 seconds and come visit.

If someone would have told me that I moved 700 miles away from home to the biggest city in the world, only to find my personality equivalent, well, I wouldn't have believed them until I met you. And frankly? I'm really not sure if the world's ready for it. It is also invariably unlikely that I would get a long so well with said counterpart. I see a beautiful future filled with Soy Chai, rock concerts, and haphazardly offending Ms. Rathburn. Okay, maybe more premeditated not so much haphazard, but equally funny.
42. Barlow Girls - Superchic[k]
Because most of my adult life you have been 2 peas in a pod, I figured any music memory I have of one of you, will inadvertently remind me of the other. Laurie and Ash. Stinky and Smelly. I don't know what I would do at family functions without you! Probably not listen to nearly as much cool music. Probably more Rusted Root and Phish, wouldn't you agree? All I know is that my mood unquestionably improves around you two, so I think it's time for MBT to have a brief stint in NYC.

When I'm feeling particularly nostalgic, my thoughts always return to you. And for the first time in, oh, 8 years I can actually listen to San Dimas without a visceral pain in my heart. With only a handful of trips under our belt, throughout countless break ups & phone calls, and roughly 1,200 miles between us, I'm still 75%-82% fond of you. Hey, in the future let's have more mornings laying around listening to Zolof and the rock n rock destroyer and less 2 year stretches of absence. Okay? Sassafras!



Now... if all of you were curious... YES. I miss you.
Love,
Mulberry



Saturday, May 2, 2009

A Hallmark Mulberry Monday

Last night was my first 8+ hour sleep session since moving, and it was followed only by more small comas throughout the day.  The verdict? I had enough of those in my post college purgatory in the 3 excruciating months between commencement and employment.  No thanks! Laying there in my bed reminded me of all the nights I stayed up past 3, accomplishing nothing during the dayparts, thinking of all those somedays that were supposed to be happening.  Now they are.  Today is someday.  Pretty awesome thought.  From last June until now I have had the best times of my life, the worst times of my life, and the beginning of the rest of my life.  Lets see, I've had complete shenanigans with some incredible people:















Witnessed history...

Got an AMAZING job...















And I live in the greatest city in the world...















These kinds of days make me want to live the width of my life, not just the length of it. 

A couple of years ago, there was a little girl.  She was the young mischievous type;  a little too poor to fit in, and a little too outspoken for her own good.  But, God, did she know how to love.  She spent her adolescence caring for her family, and the rest of her life doing much of the same thing.  She opened her mind, her heart, and her soul to 7 children, one lost, 1 husband and a slough of grandchildren.  She didn't get to see Ireland.  She didn't get to drive a car.  She didn't get to have a career.  But what she did have was some kind of unconditional love that few people are capable of understanding, let alone giving.  This little girl spent her whole life loving others, with the kind of passion and dedication most only reserve for themselves. Now she gets to sit on a sunny river bank, rocking back and forth in her chair, experiencing passing moments of clarity over her life and her family. She gets to look back and enjoy the fruits of her labor, safe in the arms of her daughter.  And her outer appearance is purely amazing.  Every wrinkle earned.  Every scar a story.  But no matter how many years are upon her, anyone who meets her is still greeted by that same little girl, that same innocence and fervor for life, that same sparkle of unconditional love, and that same trademark bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck....

So Mamaw, this is to you:

I would rather be ashes than dust; I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot; I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in a magnificent glow than in a sleep and permanent planet; the proper function of man is to live, not to exist.  I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them.  I shall USE my time. - Jack London

You used yours, so that I could wake up to all of this...
Happy Mother's Day, I hope I can make you proud,
Love
Ruthie.
Oh, and a mixtape monday just for you.