Try Outs

Dear Kristin,
Like we're trying out Google+.  We are trying out Google+, yes?  Because I'd rather not, but I'll bend if you want me to bend and it means I can watch movies with Nick while I'm in England and it's 5 pm here and he's home from work with whatever ailment has finally caught up with him and is bored with his solitary lunch, eating whatever ethnic food he's just had delivered.  Ya hear?  I'll do it for you guys.

So, this surprised me.  I like Beirut already, but this isn't Beiruty - Beiruty meaning horns to hop to and that man's foreign warble and POP! - and not in a bad way.  Just in a different way.  A little sprinkle of Billy Joel. He's using his voice like a voice and not like an instrument. There's a piano and a person singing lyrics you can make out.  Not at all in a bad way.

Perhaps that's why he looks so wonderfully bashful in the live version.

And because I'm in England and these fellas are beloved here:

Can she see me?

The live rendition is more J. Benny, and yet J. Benny likes it less.  But perhaps Kristin won't feel similarly.  Perhaps she'll like it more.  I guess, sometimes, I need a little more than a man and an guitar.  Rarely is still sometimes. 
 

Speaking of England!  Moody skies and cask ales!  On a pretty day I walk this windy town wearing a vintage blue blouse over a white slip I stole off my mom years ago and my chunky brown Target wedges:

The pre-France tryout.  It made the cut.

With a pink belt and a rock bracelet and my Kicks Ass.

This old slip is changing me.  I wear dresses now.

Love,
J. Benny