What I’m Listening to This Week



Song: Bite

Artist: Troye Sivan

Best Line: The rapture in the dark puts me at ease/the blind eye of the storm

Why Listen: It’s beautiful, haunting, lilting, but still has a killer beat and accents that will have you listening over and over again. It’s the kind of song you listen to while wandering the streets of a busy city in the dead of night.


Song: Where Are You Now (Cover)

Artist: Florence and the Machine

Best Line: Where are you now that I need you?

Why Listen: So, we’ve all heard the pop, head-bobbing collaboration between Diplo and the Biebs. Now, take the idea of that song and put it through a folksy, soulful, fantastic filter and you’ve got this cover. You can’t go wrong with Florence.


Song: Magnets

Artist: Disclosure ft. Lorde

Best Line: Pretty girls don’t know the things that I know

Why Listen: Well, Lorde. That should be reason enough. But this collaboration brings something that could be written off as every other pop ballad and gives it an interesting, dark sort of spin that’s rather lovely instead of overdone.

Beauty Through the Eyes of Illustration315


Sometimes we need an artist like Illustration 315 to remind us of the beauty in everyone—no matter what shade you happen to be. In a world where a single type of beauty seems to be the dominant, it’s nice to be reminded that there are as many forms of beauty as there are people on this planet.


All images via her Facebook page, where you can check out more of her fantastic art.

Skeletons in the Closet


A poem that takes cliches literally:

Look there, atop that distant hill

Midst wafts of fog and chimney smoke

A gruesome family dwells there still

With cursed spirits they did invoke

Up the front walk, wrought iron climbs

Grey sky scraped with porcupine spires

Gates twisted thick with thorny vines

And roses red as savage fires

Great doors creak open to welcome in

Those who wander the moors alone

Hallowed earth has forgotten them

They’ll never left the shadowed home

In dark corners you think to hide

A mistake you’ll soon come to note

On your shoulder bone fingers slide

Slick and stained from the last slashed throat

This is the house where demons play

And gorge themselves on others’ fright

By slowly sucking souls away

And drowning what’s left in inky night

In every closet, every room

Laced with aged dust and bloodied crime

The family and their guests will loom

Counting the ticks of passing time

Damned against the warmth of the sun

Stripped of skin, they are barely men

And add to their fold one by one

A hungry, waiting skeleton

What I’m Listening to This Week


Song: “After Midnight” by Dorothy


Best Line: Cause nothing good comes after midnight

Why Listen?

If you’re a fan of Gin Wigmore (as I am) you’re going to love Dorothy. She’s got the same bluesy/rock feel with some killer vocals and that rock and roll DGAF attitude that’ll have you head-banging all night.


Image via crueldazeofsummer.wordpress.com

Song: “We Don’t Have to Take Our Clothes Off” by Ella Eyre


Best Line: A quick hit, that’s your game/But I’m not a piece of meat, simulate my brain, oh

Why Listen?

Thank you, Ella Eyre. Thank you. This is the kind of song we need, amidst all the pop ballads about talking dirty and stripping down. Not only does this song bring forth a powerful and necessary message, Ella’s voice is stunning. Kick back, close your eyes, and just let this song wash over you.


Image via alphabetpony.com.au

Song: “Borderline – Salvatore Ganacci Remix” by Tove Sky


Best Line: I used to be blind and I still can’t see

Why Listen?

The minute I heard this song, I bought it. It’s got your electronic vibe, a fun singer, and definite island influences. A definite picker-upper. I could totally see this song in some dramatic and intense Nike commercial.



A poem about moving to Bakersfield:

The town felt empty

Though it had grown since

My parents last saw it.

The streets felt slow. No

skyscrapers to reach for.

Only blocks of buildings covered

In dust

And vast, brown fields

To wander

A long, hot, dusty Exodus from

The City of Angels

In the packed, gray-green Astro van

My mother and father in front

My sister and brother in back

And the crying, brand new baby

In the middle seat next to me and my

Pungent distaste for the whole affair

But then, there was the house.

Empty, white, and unexplored

An upstairs, downstairs, hidden closets—

Nothing like the tiny condo I was used to

A brand new place to play, laugh, fall, cry,

And wander.

It’s too familiar now.

I could walk it with blind eyes and

Tell you the stories of my childhood there.

Now, it’s all explored, all experienced, none too new.

Back then it was an adventure

And now, it’s just . . . home.