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me

I keep forgetting to mention these

How much do you love short stories? And ants? And funny craft projects?

Try this: Slave ants (from Featherproof).

with cupcakes!

All I've ever wanted for my birthday was for some cute boy to take me out for a steak dinner. It's not even important that he get me drunk and try to take advantage of me. You'd think that could be accomplished. Amazingly, it never has been (which may be why I'm kinda convinced it's become one of those things. Like, when it finaly does happen, halfway through the meal, when I'm sitting there thinking "Wow—it finally happend. This wasn't so hard, was it?" I'll look across the table and realize this is the universe telling me I've found the right one. Or something).

On the other hand, last night was pretty f-ing perfect. Thanks to everyone who was there, and, well, sorry? to anyone who wasn't. Really—pretty darn special.

Ooh, p.s. party tonight! with cupcakes!

don't you think?

I love context

I had a long talk with a friend last night that (involved me pacing around Belltown, passing packages to smokers in bars like secret notes in math class, but that also) concluded with a resounding sense of general loneliness. "Why don't you move out here and live with me?" I asked (leaving out the part about me being absolutely impossible to live with). "And what, get married?" he said. "Well, I mean, or just be roommates..." I suggested.

But the thing is, I absolutely want to live some place where you might very well find notes like this one:



(actual note written by my actual sister, left taped to the stairwell)

someone loves me

and his name just might be Ira Glass.

from an announcement this morning:

Episode #339: Breakup

The world is not divided into two types of people—unless you've just been through a horrible breakup, in which case it's divided between people who understand and people who don't. Stories of people trying to comprehend their own breakups and those of others, including writer Starlee Kine on what makes the perfect post-breakup song. Broadcasts August 24-26.

That is, broadcasts on the days of 1.) my birthday; 2.) our party; and 3.) the inevitable post-booze, post-cupcake, pre-Monday slump when now, apparently, I'll be lying around the house watching This American Life explain the isolating passion of breakups. And to think, today I was going to move on to writing about the relationships of others.

kids

Yesterday I had a conversation that went,

"Seems like that thing where you suggest it and then wait a while and then she proposes it like it's her idea is going to work really well with this one."

"Yeah, that seems to be what works with a lot of them—I think it's just where they are, developmentally."

And then I thought,

You know, usually that seems insulting. And then I try to think, "You know, he's not consciously taking credit from you. He doesn't mean to be insulting. Get over it." And then I wonder, what does he think I contribute to the conversation if he thinks all of this came from him?

And now, well, maybe it's /really/ not fair to be insulted, if that's where they are, developmentally. Maybe it's like people who get annoyed with little kids who keep asking "Why?" when they don't want to hear the answer because they don't understand that the kid doesn't /want/ the answer, he just wants to know what 'why' means.

And then, what does it say if I'm dating/hanging out with/generally trying not to be insulted by people who are in the same developmental stage as a fifth grader?

moderate comments

I'm sure I've talked before about being hip. And I said once my only claim to fame at Scarecrow is that the guy behind the counter almost fainted when I asked for Zardoz. This totally beats that.

Last night, after a thrilling conversation that began and ended with nostalgia over Escape to Witch Mountain, I was compelled to rush to Scarecrow to look for a movie I saw once as a small child and have been searching for ever since. It's a Western that shakes out just like every other Western, with the guy in the white hat, and the guy in the black hat, and the girls in the saloon and the love and the guns, only all the people in the movie are kids. I don't remember there being any backstory, or even any acknowledgement that they're all kids. It was extremely creepy. I am extremely interested to know whether that holds now that I'm not five. Anyway, (the last time I began a conversation with a cute little hipster boy with the words "Are you in the mood for an obnoxious question?" worked out pretty well, so) I asked the first guy I ran into.

Long story short, after half an hour of internet database searches and failed stretches, he thought he'd found just the thing—something he and his girlfriend had watched just nights before; a new release of old material; not the movie itself, but a DVD collection dedicated to the worst television blunders of all time.

I think asking for a movie you care about and being handed a mashup called "TV Mania" (only half-heartedly retitled from the original "TV Turkeys") is made worse only by the fact that the show I'm looking for actually isn't on this disc, which is itself less worse than the fact that some of the shows in this collection look like they might actually have been interesting (calling to mind a discussion I had the other day about Mystery Science Theater and about how the joke of making fun of something gets really old when you start to suspect that the people doing the making fun are the ones missing out).

In conclusion, why do I suddenly and consistently feel like the character in the movie who's been rehearsing a conversation in the mirror only to realize that she's actually delivering a poorly written monologue and there's someone listening?

Finally, the point is, why does it seem like everyone is either mean or pandering, and why can't that balance between kind and unsentimental be more pervasive?

how do you know if it's caused by the absence of one thing or the presence of the other?

and should the initiation vs. popularization question have an analog in our personal lives?

At sixes and sevens
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

   For the album by Sirenia, see At Sixes and Sevens.

To be "at sixes and sevens" is an English phrase and idiom, common in the United Kingdom. It is used to describe a state of confusion or disarray. The similar phrase "to set the world at six and seven", used by Geoffrey Chaucer, seems, from its context, to mean "to hazard the world" or "to risk one's life".

There are several other possible explanations, including one mention of a similar phrase with a different meaning in the Bible (Job 5:19). However, one of the more interesting possibilities is that it may have come from a dispute between the Merchant Taylors' and Skinners' Livery Companies. The two, which were founded in the same year, argued over sixth place in the order of precedence. After more than a century, it was decided that at Easter, the companies would swap between sixth and seventh and feast in each others' halls. Nowadays they alternate in precedence on an annual basis. This is unlikely to be the origin of the phrase, as Chaucer had used it over a century before, but could well have helped to popularise it.

Most likely, the term derives from a complicated dice game called "hazard". It is thought that the expression was originally "to set on cinque and sice" (from the French numerals for five and six). These are the riskiest numbers to shoot for (to "set on"), and anyone who tried for them was considered careless or confused.

(Compare with the Chinese phrase luanqibazao, with similar meaning, but instead uses the numbers seven and eight.)

nice tags

I went to this audio equipment store once, and in the very front by the sales desk, before you turn left and go into the used equipment room, there was this beautiful stereo. It's one of those hi-fi/credenza combos, but in that perfect 60s bachelor-pad, wood and space style (that would look great next to that Eames chair I'll have (or, my ex-boyfriend had in that fantasy where we lived in seperate apartments—his tasteful and male and 60s, mine gaudy and garrish and female and 50s)). It was stunning. I gaped for a bit, and then went about my business. On my way out, I stopped to look again, and someone said "can I help you?". I looked up and this adorable guy in faded 50s glasses was staring at me. "Um ... Could you tell me how much this is? Just, out of curiosity?" "Oh, no." he said. "That's not for sale. I told them if they sell that I'll quit." (And who remembers her name in a moment like that?)

There's this guy I'm supposed to know, but don't. He's a friend of a friend, and because the friend and I share a dog, this friend of the friend has figured out who I am—seen me with the dog; pieced things together. Apparently they talk about me. "Saw Kate again today", he'll say. Who knows. But he's never introduced himself. So the other day, I go to the dry cleaner's with my couch cushions (it's a long story, but who really knows how dry cleaning works anyway?). I make a nusciance of myself, trying very hard to be nice and harmless about the whole thing, clearly failing. The scene ends with this guy and his dad and I all blocking the foyer of the cleaner's, pulling on large pieces of foam, translating through several languages and not making any sense in any of them. I walk out carrying armloads of foam and fur and stuffing them in my car and he shouts after me "Can I have your phone number?" For the computer. I look up over the piles of stuff and start shouting and 'round about the fourth number I'm looking at him thinking "this is totally the guy. And this is totally why he knows, and knows that I know, and ..."

I credit the start of my journalistic career to this other guy, actually, and that's all fun and funny (though the real credit goes to someone else, of course), but the thing is, sometimes you gotta feel like people are better where they are, and if you don't know them, maybe you appreciate them more (though, of course, you're looking for the ones who ruin that theory). But you wonder, I guess, how far that holds, and when the unspoken lines maybe should be crossed, or ...

On the other hand, maybe we just need one good thing to make the bad ones seem poetic.

poll

Do crushes usually make you work more or less (even if you look like an idiot either way)?

vanilla (and whiskey)

I had a talk with my sister's sixth-grade boyfriend once. I honestly don't know how the conversation started (and, actually, this is the only time I remember ever speaking to him), but he was telling me about the first time he ever kissed a girl.

"And?", I asked.

"And I kept thinking—wow! Who knew girls tasted so good!"

Turns out she was wearing flavored lip balm, but ever after he had this really visceral memory of girls tasting like sugared strawberries.

I had a boyfriend once who didn't drink much, and I always wondered if it bothered him that I did, and one night he said, "You know what I love?—when your kisses taste like whiskey." Obviously, this was good. But I wonder, what are they supposed to taste like? Or what of what they're not supposed to taste like works best?

"the color of your hair"

madlibs—the musical!

This is long. And probably boring. On the other hand, you're reading my blog...

I read one of those stupid "fill out the" chain things the other day, and it actually seemed kinda fun. And then, I really love karaoke for what it reveals about lyrics to songs you always thought you knew but maybe didn't think about. And then it seemed even funner.

I cut out the scenes that got songs I don't know (not that I'm embarrassed by it, as the bulletin suggests, just that it didn't have any meaning for me). also, caveat: all lyrics taken off the internet somewhere; feel free to suggest amendments

(what follows is the list. cleverly, I have hidden the lyrics, for the fainthearted, and for anyone who doesn't care about lyrics the way I do (or, I suppose, for that clever person who knows the lyrics to all of these anyway, without the help of the internet). click here, on this characteristically unnecessarily long sentence, if you want to see everything)

----begin augmented SPAM bulletin here----

IF YOUR LIFE WERE A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?
So, here's how it works:

1. Open your computer's music library
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For each question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool...


Opening Credits:
Sister Marie (Bonus) - Harry Nilsson

Life is not easy for Sister Marie
She finds that her thought is in error
Her captive face haunting the mirror
Discomforts her

She listens intently to Father McGhee
As he tells her that faith is a blessing
And she worries that he might be guessing
His irony

It would be nice just to live like a lady
And to have someone to marry
It would be nice to have someone to care for
Someone to care when I'm buried

Carefully presenting the semblance of peace
She fulfills her various duties
Until all the changes she goes through
Have wearied her

She writes to her sister at school in the East
To enquire how she is progressing
And startles herself by confessing
Her jealousy

It would be nice just to live like a lady
And to have someone to marry
It would be nice to have someone to care for
Someone to care when I'm buried

Life is not easy for Sister Marie
She finds that her thought is in error
Her captive face haunting the mirror
Discomforts her

It would be nice just to live like a lady
And to have someone to marry
It would be nice to have someone to care for
Someone to care when I'm buried

Falling In Love:
Jettison - Neko Case & Her Boyfriends

I didn't let go 'cause you hurt me
I didn't let go so you'd stay
I did let you go 'cause I love you so much
And it kills me to see us this way

Love saved my life when you found me
A debt I can only repay
By closing the doors, now I'm savin' yours
And I know that you want it this way

Sandman take me much further than sleep
We'll ride down that river of tears
Where only the stars and the angels will weep
As I jettison all of my years

Long are the nights I lay cryin'
Wasn't because you weren't true
I hope you can finally be happy my love,
'Cause I'd give up my own life for you

Sandman take me much further than sleep
We'll ride down that river of tears
Where only the stars and the angels will weep
As I jettison all of my years
Oh, I jettsion all of my years

Fight Song:
the longest winter - pedro the lion

spring comes slowly
to this old frame
still i'm frozen
i still live alone

in time memories fade
sense numb
one forgets how it feels
to have loved
completely

love well young man
while you still can
once your leaves turn
you won't love again

is it special when you're lonely
will you spend your whole life
in a studio apartment
with a cat for a wife
the seasons when they call you
do you barricade the door
are you stubborn stubborn
stubborn to the core
is it your way or the highway

then the longest winter is on her way
you called her without knowing it
and now it's too late

Breaking Up:
All I Think About Is You - Harry Nilsson

How can I run away from darkness at the close of day
When all I think about is you
Not knowing where I'm going
What am I to do
When all I think about is you

I'll stand an hour knocking
Knowing that my heart is mocking me
She doesn't live here anymore

I don't know why I bother
What else can I do
When all I think about is you

Dream maker, heartbreaker
How can dreams come true
When all I dream about is you

I'll stand an hour knocking
Knowing that my heart is mocking me
She doesn't live here anymore
How can I run away from darkness at the close of day
When all I think about is you

Not knowing where I'm going
What am I to do
When all I think about is you

I don't know why I bother
What else can i do
When all I think about is you

Life:
New Amsterdam (Olympic Studio version) - Elvis Costello & The Attractions

You're sending me tulips mistaken for lilies
You give me your lip after punching me silly
You turned my head till it rolled down the brain drain
If I had any sense now I wouldn't want it back again

New Amsterdam it's become much too much
Till I have the possession of everything she touches
Till I step on the brakes to get out of her clutches
Till I speak double dutch to a real double duchess

Down on the mainspring, listen to the tick tock
Clock all the faces that move in on your block
Twice shy and dog tired because you've been bitten
Everything you say now sounds like it was ghost-written

Chorus

Back in London they'll take you to heart after a little while
Though I look right at home I still feel like an exile

Somehow I found myself down at the dockside
Thinking of the old days of Liverpool and Rotherhithe
The transparent people who live on the other side
Living a life that is almost like suicide

Chorus

Driving:
Sad Mood - Sam Cooke

Ah-ooo, ah-ooo, ah-ooo
I'm in a sad mood tonight, oh I'm in a sad mood
I'm in a sad mood tonight
Oh my baby done gone away & left me
My baby done gone, yeah
My baby done gone away & left me
My baby done gone

I don't know why she left me
I don't know where she's gone
But all I know is I'll never be happy
Until my baby comes back home, yeah because...

I'm in a sad mood tonight
Oh my baby done gone away & left me
My baby done gone

Oh I don't know why she left me
But there's one thing I know
I know that if my baby tells me she'll come back home
I'll never never do it no more, yeah because...

I'm in a sad mood tonight, oh I'm in a sad mood
I'm in a sad mood tonight
Oh my baby done gone away & left me
My baby done gone, yeah
My baby done gone away & left me
My baby done gone

I'm in a sad mood tonight
Oh I'm in a sad mood tonight
She got me in a sad mood tonight

Getting back together:
Mt. St. Helens - Mirah

From the morning when I rise from my bed
'Til the evening when I lay my head in slumber
Oh, the loss of you does wreck my days
Leaves me with a violent hunger
I will never be free from you
'Til I escape the lion's jaw
There's no welcome in the end
There's no reason to return again

The mountain stood so large
We were humbled
We walked a high and lonely path
The sun beat down on the ground
We looked around us
There were no trees there
We found a creek there
We dipped our feet there
We were alone there
There was still hope there
There had been a great disaster
The hot winds came just after
A tremendous shock was felt
Survivors often tell
The trees all hit the ground
Death was all around
And not a single lonesome sigh

The example lay before you
You knew what you had to do
You have a pressure in you
To destroy the one who loved you
The death was all around

You were hotter to me than the sun
That burned me up the day we went
To mount saint helens
And if the special death you gave to me
Is the prize i get to take home solemnly
And suffer with the fact that
I could never be your friend
I could never come back home again

Birth of Child:
The Other End Of The Telescope - Elvis Costello & The Attractions

Shall we agree that that just this once
I'm gonna change my life
Until it's just as tiny or
Important as you like

And in time we won't even recall that we spoke
Words that turned out to be as big as smoke
A smoke that disappears in the air
There's always something that smoldering somewhere

I know it don't make a difference to you
But oh it so made a difference to me
You'll see me off in the distance I hope
At the other end
At the other end of the telescope

You're half naked ambition and
You're half out of your wits
And several tiny fractions that
This portrait still omits

And it's so hard to pick the receiver up when I call
I never knew that you could be so small
The answer was under your nose
But the question never arose

I know it don't make a difference to you
But oh it so made a difference to me
You'll see me off in the distance I hope
At the other end
At the other end of the telescope

Lie down baby now don't say a word
There there baby your vision is blurred your
Head is so sore from all of that thinking
I don't want to hurt you now
But I think you're shrinking

The promise of indulgence in my confidential voice
Approached immortal danger but you'll never know how close
Then down the hall I overheard such a heavenly choir
It interrupted my evil designs
One day your head is up in the clouds
The next day you're down with the sweet Adelines

I know it don't make a difference to you
But oh it so made a difference to me
'Cause late in the evening as I sit here moping
With a bamboo needle and a shellac of Chopin
And that cast-iron heart that you failed to
Tear open

At the other end
At the other end of the telescope

Death Scene:
Coastline - 764 Hero

you took an hour or two and then we packed
ready for another coastline, again

you only knew a couple of words but that don't matter
headed for another coastline, again

we don't belong here now
they should shoot us looking down
we don't belong here now
they should shoot us looking down

it only helped an hour or two
and then we're lost
stranded on another coast line, forever

and there we were dying for gas and then we knew
everything about the coastline was true

we don't belong here now
they should shoot us looking down
we don't belong here now
they should shoot us looking down

around it
we found it
around it
we found it

we only left an hour ago and now we feel
stranded on another coastline, together

Funeral Song:
Mykel & Carli - Weezer

Back in Wilson High
I had two best friends
They lived down the block
Where Eagle Ct. ends
One she cared for my bones
Fed me ice-cream cones
One she cared for my happiness
And wouldn't leave me alone
Back in Wilson High
Said I had these two best friends
Till the school bus came
and took my friends away
Now I'm left alone at home
To sit and think all day

Chorus
Hear you me, Mykel
Hear you me, Carli

They gave me a hat
the hat was awful rad
wore it everyday
Made my teacher mad
She tore it off my head
Now my head's well read
My head gets cold at night sometimes
But I can't be misled

Chorus

She tore it off my head
Now my head's well read
My head gets cold at night sometimes
But I can't be misled

Back in Wilson High
I had two best friends
They lived down the block
Where Eagle Ct. ends
Till the school bus came
and took my friends away
Now I'm left alone at home
To sit and think all day

Chorus

Oh! Oh! No! Mykel
Oh! Oh! No! Carli
Oh!-----------Oh

End Credits:
Я с тобой - Пятница

Я с тобой
I`m in love with you - Цитата из песни Эрики Баду, которую 5ницца часто поёт


Иди ко мне
И холодно, и смешно мне
Как будто снег на дне
И нет его
Вода ли, слёзы ли
Не всё равно ли?
Все нули равны нулю.
Нам сказали минуту назад,
Что завтра не будет,
Мы больные люди.
Мы любили
Мы любим
Мы будем,
Но об этом - ни слова
Ни злого
Не повезло вам
Я не верю словам
Я не верю словам

Я с тобой
Мы ветра, двери, пропасти
Я с тобой
Нас не спасти, стой, прости
Я с тобой
После нежной жестокости
Я с тобой
О-о-о-о-о-о
Я с тобой
Улыбаются улицы
Я с тобой
Волны берегу шёпотом
Я с тобой
Наше небо волнуется
Я с тобой
Пропади оно пропадом


Придумай мне имя
Намекни мне
Приснись прикоснись
Весна не со мной
Новый снег
Нет покоя
Нет покоя пока я не успокоюсь
Не моя дорога ты
С высоты в пустоту
Мой свет
Твой день
Где ответ?

Ветра уносят ночью
I`m in love with you
In love with you
Так устал играть, выбирать
Но я так и не успел тебе сказать

Я с тобой
Мы ветра, двери, пропасти
Я с тобой
Нас не спасти, стой, прости
Я с тобой
После нежной жестокости
Я с тобой
О-о-о-о-о-о
Я с тобой
Улыбаются улицы
Я с тобой
Волны берегу шёпотом
Я с тобой
Наше небо волнуется
Я с тобой
Пропади оно пропадом

С тобобой с тобобобобобоуоуоу
С тобобой с тобобобобобоуоуоу

"I didn't even do that thing where I'm like, 'what a beautiful intellectual insight let me kiss you'"

things to repair:

• little black Amish shoes


• fancy flip flops (maintenance)


• angular zippered dress


• baseboards


• that strange [can "cleft", as the result of "cleaving", go both ways, too?] between sincerity on the one hand, irony on the other, and authenticity wherever it triangulates in there most meaningfully


• huge multicolored papier mâché beach balls (well, make, really)

that can't be metaphorical?

Dictionary
guttural |ˈgətərəl| adjective (of a speech sound) produced in the throat; harsh-sounding. • (of a manner of speech) characterized by the use of such sounds : his parents' guttural central European accent. noun a guttural consonant (e.g., k, g) or other speech sound. DERIVATIVES gutturally adverb ORIGIN late 16th cent.: from French, or from medieval Latin gutturalis, from Latin guttur ‘throat.’

Thesaurus
guttural adjective the man who called had a guttural voice THROATY, husky, gruff, gravelly, growly, growling, croaky, croaking, harsh, rough, rasping, raspy; deep, low, thick.

Is it strange to have the titular chapter two years in?

I am about to have a conversation that begins, "How is your life turning out?" I'm about to launch into a speech I've given fifty thousand times, and tire of (though it's often interesting in an interesting context). I said to someone today, "but don't you ever have that feeling that the horrible messy end to it all is all there right in front of you already, especially when it's seeming fun and frivolous?" and immediately felt the weight of the last time I said that. And I want so much and don't, and it's all pressing but it isn't. And someone needs to divine the difference between compulsion and compunction and can't and won't (and cant and wont) and maintain the one between untethered and adrift.

sigh

• me: I have two G-rated fantasies and they involve that movie cliche where the guy puts his arms around the girl to teach her pool or tennis or whatever, only mine have to be pinball and indy record shopping


• him: like, you're reaching for a michael jackson record


• me: and he comes up behind me and says, "uh un, I think you'd be better off..."


• him: and some guy in a sweater comes up behind you and puts your hand on the new i'm from sweden record?


• me: precisely


• him: and the two of you ride off on his vespa
  
  cut to a montage of buying a kitten
  
  spraypainting your names on the side of a train


• me: aw, did you love Amelie, too?


• him: eating at some fancy restaurant where they serve 40's in ice buckets


• me: The Delta! Oh, I miss The Delta.


• him: god
  
  i'm so used to my references coming off as random and arcane
  
  it's sort of unnerving when someone can call them all
  
  do you want to get married?


• me: sure


• him: whatever

I met a really nice guy, once

I met this really nice guy, once. So nice I was actually struck by how nice he was. That kind of nice where you walk away thinking, wow, that was just really nice. No ulterior motives. No, even, leaving room to speculate about ulterior motives (which I can /always/ find room to speculate about).

And I liked having this little memory (it was nice, you know?), and one day I got to talking to some other guy and somehow he came up and "Yeah", I said, "— man is he nice."

"Well..." said this dude.

"What do you mean, 'Well...'?", I asked. "I think this one's pretty straightforward."

and he got to thinking out loud and hedging and saying "I shouldn't" (not very believably) but eventually he explained, "I mean, I knew him /before/ and, this is going to sound weird, but, he was always acting like he was going to be famous; couldn't stop talking about how brilliant he was and how much people should admire him. I think he just seems nice now because, now that everyone in the world is saying that for him, he has energy for other things."

I've always wondered whether people actually like other people, or if they just like themselves in the context of those other people. And I guess there has to be some overlap. And I suppose there's a difference between liking (and appreciating) and loving, and abstract recognition of intersubjectivity is tied up in there somewhere, but do you keep people around just 'cause they make you feel good (or, less bad), and is being on the same page (or, team) the same as internalizing all that good press? Do you think we all have to feel famous(/ly appreciated) to, just, varying levels on the public/private continuum?

what I /really/ want for my birthday

Please can we swap the chicken coup for this?
(but, I'm totally serious)

let's keep dancing

I met a perfectly nice guy the other night. Perfectly nice, and interesting, and interested in the kind of things I am. And we had a nice time, and did some things I like doing, and in the end I thought, "Yeah, ok." And in the morning one of my kids said, "All my friends in Seattle are boring." and I thought, "What are we putting up with?"

I saw an old friend of mine walking down the street last night and when I didn't want to wave, I felt that seeping solitude-in-public kind of loneliness and I can't shake it (because I wish it were deeper).

Today I ran into a guy I met once years ago and hadn't seen since and couldn't stop babbling and kept him hours longer than he intended and annoyed his girl friend and I sure hope he visits. But the thing is, why are obvious things so essential, and what do you call that kind of presence that does little more than make the absence more conspicuous?

blocking out more space on the inter-net

I made a new site. You can see it if you click here. It is energy efficient, as you'll learn if you click here (or here, or, really, here). As ever, thanks for listening.