I saw Janet this weekend. It was nice. Anyway, I haven’t added to Songs for Janet in a few days for a bunch of reasons nobody cares about.
Here are the new ones:
COLD AS ICE // FOREIGNER
COME BACK TO ME // DAVID COOK
MR. JONES // COUNTING CROWS
ABSOLUTELY (STORY OF A GIRL) // NINE DAYS
FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT // ARCTIC MONKEYS
A funny feauxtograph of Janet will be up soon. Until then, ta-ta.
Songs for Janet 6/9.
YOUR LOVE IS MY DRUG // KE$HA
I’ve heard she’s coming home this weekend … what the hell?
Today’s Songs for Janet:
I’LL TRY ANYTHING ONCE // THE STROKES
Alright, here goes. Songs for Janet.
Today, I’m going to get the playlist started with five.
1. YOU’RE SO VAIN // CARLY SIMON
2. I HEAR BELLS // WEEZER
3. TREEHOUSE // I’M FROM BARCELONA
4. ALL I WANT IS YOU // BARRY LOUIS POLISAR
5. IF YOU LEAVE // NADA SURF
Got suggestions on more songs for Janet? Submit them!
This is one of the creepiest things I have done in a long time. What follows is why I don’t care.
At the start of my junior year of high school I moved to Bakersfield, and life was good, I guess. Not much substance, though. I lived in a two-bedroom apartment with my mom, but come early springtime we finally bought a house, and I was pretty stoked about it. Around the same time, I became friends with this girl named Janet Kwon.
So why is that important? I’ll walk you through it.
Imagine your stereotypical Bakersfieldian. Those of you from Bakersfield, imagine the stereotypes perceived by other people. I won’t list those qualities out for you, because I imagine everyone has their own unique take on it, depending on various levels of experience with the ‘Field — from truck stops to Buck Owens to pure hearsay or what have you. Regardless of your dispositions, once you have that image in your brain, imagine its antithesis. That’s Janet.
At the approximate height of somewhere in between a garden gnome and a fifth-grader, she’s rambunctious, garrulous, noisy and officious when she needs to be. Adorable (sometimes), too. Poised with a unique fashion sense of only a true hipster-dipster, Janet enjoys photography (one of the best I know), Regina Spektor, bougie food, Barack Obama, Andrew Bird and all things vintage*. Her throaty laugh is distinguishable from a mile away and she never backs down from a fight, no matter how contrived her opinion may be. Some people can barely stand to be around her. I, for one, can’t get enough. Oh yeah, and she lived across the street from me.
I may not share all of the same interests as Janet, but I do respect her. Sometimes it’s just nice to listen to her talk about something abstract, raid your pantry and hum along to a song you’ve never heard before — in French, of course. She has a way of always keeping everyone else on their toes, and that’s saying something, since I’m 6’2” (or something like that).
But we’re older now. I no longer get to be surprised by spontaneous house calls in which I’d listen to stories of her slapping people or an interesting tidbit she picked up casually reading the New Yorker in Mr. Cater’s Calculus class. We are unfortunately separated by thousands of miles of air and road and land due to her enrollment at some random private university in Illinois. Naturally, one of the few things available that keeps me close to her is the wonderful world of Facebook.
I guess Janet doesn’t agree.
For the second time now, she’s deactivated. The last time she did this, I got really upset and tagged a bunch of photos as “JANET FUCKING KWON” until her eventual return. See my earlier Tumblr posts for reference. This time, however, I’m taking a slightly altered approach and shifting my entire focus to Tumblr, primarily because she is still here and I feel like being really dramatic and self-indulgent — nothing new there, though.
This blog, therefore, is aptly renamed The Janet Experiment.
It stems from a challenge I gave Janet last night during a heated text message exchange in which I successfully compared her Facebook departure to Yoko Ono.
-to remain off Facebook for the entire summer
-to commit to that choice completely, meaning she may not use other friends’ accounts to view pictures, comments, etc., nor may she engage in any conversations in which a friend relays to her information procured from facebook. This constitutes cheating, punishable by a dramatic phone call, withholding of food and severe bitching-out.
-to refrain from any references, postings or association with the critically acclaimed film and cult-classic-to-be The Social Network, of which she is an avid fan. The reasoning behind this is that since she deactivated because she “just hates fb,” she therefore cannot appreciate that movie. #reductionism #syllogisms
-to make everything on my Tumblr page Janet-themed. Each day, I will post a song or a few songs that remind me of Janet in any way, either direct or abstract, to be compiled in an epic playlist at the conclusion of each 20 or so tracks.
-to focus the blog’s content primarily on food, music and fashion. All things beloved by Janet. Why? Because I’ve always wanted to blog about those things, and now I finally have a reason. #construed #bullshit
My hope is that I can channel my Janet-related feelings to produce something positive, or at least more productive than my previous efforts.
When life gives you lemons, pretend they’re limes, down some tequila shots and bitch about your problems.
P.S. I love you, Janet.
Janet, I need you, I miss you
I’m so alone without you
to call up on the weekends
with my cellular phone
Janet, it’s so hard to relate
to the whole human race
I don’t know where to begin,
I don’t know where to begin
if we could both find a way
to do the things that we say
we might not sit in our rooms
and drink our daydreams away
Janet, I’m a dreamer,
I’m not a vicious schemer
oh Janet, won’t you —
aw, fuck it.
your facebook is deactivated
your social network presence gone
your life, you say is … reactivated?
you’re “better without all of it”
but how can I tell you I miss you
and share it with the world
where do I tell you I love you
where others may share in my bliss
tell me oh tell me sweet baby:
why the hell has it come to this?
when I look at your face
I see the face of the past
when I look at pictures
I see a hole once love-filled
you say you want to write me
you think snail mail will be fun
but where do I go to check on you
to see your face, to dream your embrace
where do I tell you I love you
and see what you’re up to right now
where do I share our love with the world
and know that you’re watching, too?