So, NPR is the bane of my existence these days. I wake up to it at 5:30 as a starting point to stumble into some workout gear so I can get tortured for an hour. (What? You think this body makes itself? Ho, no. I am now the squat master.)
Usually at that point in the morning, it is a women with a crisp British accent detailing the latest fun in the Middle East, but on the way back the more colorful stories emerge. A bar near DuPont Circle is now offering an $80 48-ounce martini. You can request a ladle. Seersucker suit day is still going strong. Weiner's weiner got the best of him. My mind is already overbrimming with useless information, now the useful stuff is headed for the hills as I consider downloading another podcast.
Thankfully NPR did me a favor the other night and interviewed Alina Simone, my new obsession.
Here's a nice little ditty from her new one:
And here's a ditty from her old one in which she is covering Russian punk artists. I still think Russian is one of the most beautiful languages ever to spring from the throats of human beings. Which reminds me I need to get back to the books, or Rosetta Stone. Or maybe go on a date with that Russian guy with the dog who lives around the corner. It was very encouraging when he said: "Your Russian is off to a good start and would allow you to either buy a home in Romania or order off the menu in a Chinese restaurant in Tajikistan."
And here's the original, also awesome.
Twelve Years, Give or Take.
1 week ago