At this particular moment in time, I'm living in that delightful midsummer limbo during which it's not quite time to be panicking and itching and frothing at the mouth about another year of school soon to come, yet not quite at that point where it's hot and sticky and every day the New York streets are sweating with too many boiling, tired people vying to make it home in time to collapse in front of the air conditioning all afternoon with a cold beverage and the latest "ANGELINA AND BRAD ARE HAPPY...OH WAIT, NO, NO, MY MISTAKE, THEIR MARRIAGE IS OVER, THEY ARE LIVING A SHAM OF A FARCE OF A LIE, THEY ARE TWO BROKEN HALVES OF A WHOLE, BRAD HATES ANGIE AND IS PLOTTING TO TAKE OVER THE LOST CITY OF ATLANTIS WITH JENNIFER ANISTON, ANGIE IS TAKING THE KIDS AWAY FROM BRAD OH WAIT NO MAYBE THERE'S HOPE YET FOR BRAD AND ANGIE NOW OH AND BY THE WAY BUY THIS SHIRT AND THESE SHOES BECAUSE THEN YOU'LL BE COOL AND FAMOUS TOO" magazine.

I must confess to perusing many a sand-encrusted copy of InTouch or Us Weekly while lying on the beach or sitting on an infernally hot subway, but at least I can say that have little real interest in Brad and Angie's relationship, or, for that matter, exactly whose pants Lindsay Lohan squires cocaine around Los Angeles in. I hereby wash my hands of the whole sordid matter.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
There.
Anyway, where was I before my brain ran off without me?
Oh yes.
My summer has been filled with all the regular idyllic things like the ocean, the smell of honeysuckle, iced coffee, et cetera, but that sort of thing is boring to write about and even more boring to read about. So, I've compiled for your reading entertainment the Emma's Schizophrenic Summer Playlist and Movie List. Enjoy!

"Alison" by Elvis Costello.
Now, I don't know if anyone else is familiar with this phenomenon, but sometimes you'll be driving around and a certain song will come on the radio and you can't help but scream out the lyrics and bob your head energetically from side to side in a way that is disturbing both to your fellow passengers, general passersby, and/or street-corner hoboes stealing banana peels from garbage cans whom you might drive past. "Alison" is one of these songs.
AAALLLISOOON, I KNOW THIS WORLD IS KILLING YOOOOOOOUUUUUU...
ALLLISOOON, MY AIM IS TRUUUUUUUUE...
MY AIM IS TRUUUUUUE...
MY AIM IS TRUEEEEEEEEE.

"Swallow" by The Wailin' Jennys.
I'm generally not a folksy person- I have no interest in prairie skirts (with the exception of one misguided, on-sale ankle-length Kenzo tent-masquerading-as-skirt I once wore out for a full four hours before running home in shame) or grinding my own maize or whatever it is folkspeople do.
But I think The Jennys (we in-the-know hipsters are permitted to shorten the band's name from The Wailin' Jennys to simply...The Jennys. Avant-garde, yes? Yes.) could convert even the grittiest, concrete-jungle-loving, sunshine-and-happiness-hating Nuuu Yawker.

"California" by Joni Mitchell.
I don't think you really need to explain this song.
I'll just say that it has been the soundtrack to many an Emma Mini-Road Trip.
And while we're on the subject of road trips, and, therefore, on the subject of greasy food chains one might need to stop at whilst taking said road trip, try the Baconator at Wendy's.
SIX STRIPS OF BACON.
Joni Mitchell and bacon. 'Nuff said.

"Raspberry Beret" by Prince.
Whenever I type the word "Prince" on this blog, I feel like I should pay a royalty to The Molly (I was going to write The Princetastic Molly, but then I decided that was stupid, and I deleted the "Princetastic" but forgot to delete the "The", and then I thought this could be kind of a cool nickname for Molly if she's into it. I always wanted to be called The Emma. God, I need to be put in a group home somewhere).
THIS SONG IS THE MOST DANCEABLE SONG OF 2007. And that is coming from a girl who has sworn off dancing in public, because when she dances she looks like this.

God, I miss that show sometimes.

This last one is a double feature...
"That Time" and "Summer In The City" by Regina Spektor.
I felt I had to include "Summer In The City" because, well...come on.
It's summer.
I live in a city.
It's a beautiful, haunting, exquisitely worded song.
Blah, blah, blah.
"That Time" is one of my all-time favorite Spektor songs.
It is best suited for sitting out on my fire escape with cold, milky coffee and a plaintive, fast-paced, caffeine-induced mood.
It bounces off my walls in a way I very much enjoy.
God, in my next life I want to be Regina Spektor. Is that possible?
So, those are the songs that have been governing my summer.
Next up, my new favorite movie...
"The Talented Mr. Ripley".
An almost-perfect movie, as far as I'm concerned.
Tom Ripley: I always thought it would be better, to be a fake somebody... than a real nobody.


Whenever I watch the jazz club scene, I miss Italy so much. Americano, Americano!
I was going to use that as the title of this post, but I thought everyone who hadn't seen The Talented Mr. Ripley (poor misguided souls) would think I was insane.
Honestly, it was extremely odd to watch this brilliantly crafted movie filled with interesting plot twists, amazing fashion (all the women in this movie are dressed in a way that makes me crave a life of red-lipped, full-skirted privilege in the fifties) and gorgeous men (yes, I'm a teenage girl. Yes, I love Matt Damon and his nerdy glasses in this movie, even if he is incredibly creepy. I couldn't help rooting for him anyway, which I think is part of the genius of the plot. P.S. Not to be declasse, but...Jude Law's ass.
When he was still attractive.
You're welcome).
Anyway, it was odd to watch this movie, because the night before I'd gone to see "I Know Who Killed Me."
I, and everyone I was with, spent the entire movie alternating between hysterical laughter and begging one another "Please, let's leave, while we're still young. I can't do this anymore! SOMEONE, PLEASE, TAKE ME HOME!".
I mean, are you supposed to take that movie seriously?
I find it impossible that someone picked up the script, read through it and said, "Wow. We have to make this happen. Someone find me Lindsay Lohan and a pole and a bunch of prosthetic limbs".
The simple contrast between the two movies is mindblowing. They're at completely opposite ends of the spectrum.
I can barely wrap my mind around the fact that they're both referred to as movies, and I am NOT exaggerating. If you think I am, go catch the matinee of "I Know Who Killed Me".
Voila, end of list. Fairly short list, huh?
I guess it was more like a mental Post-It note of random jottings.

SIGHTINGS- Oh, the glory. A gorgeous red-haired couple, the girl in one of those Indian beaded shift things that look good on nobody except for gorgeous slim girls, the guy in fitted, long dark denim shorts and a white mens' tank with white Converse. They looked fantastic, like some sort of annoyingly, simply perfect ad for annoying, simple perfection. A pixielike Asian girl with idirescent yellow eyeshadow, a small black canvas miniskirt, a purple, red and pink block-print tee, and those much-coveted shiny Christian Louboutins. And it all worked. Lucky bitch. A gorgeous guy with an Afro in a simple white button-down and khaki pants, with vintage penny loafers and an amazing chocolate-colored man bag. A girl in a sparkly silver bikini and gunmetal silver flats which for some reason I completely coveted. She managed to look neither like a disco ball nor a Miss America Reject, and it turned out very chic.

CURRENT ATTIRE- Red-and-white floral-type knee-length skirt, tight white tank top, red shiny ballet flats, red vintage bangle. I feel like a fire engine, but I like it.

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