I went to see Matt Costa play in a little venue in Atlanta, fall of 2008. His music was cheery but folksy. He was so tall, so tall, and ruggedly handsome, but so so drunk. I was pissed that he was drunk but I swooned anyway. When he performed it was hard not to. He makes the kind of music that I wanted boys to put on mixtapes for me in high school.

These songs are as bad as wine is for me. Once the swooning starts I am an intoxicated fool. I want to cuddle close to someone. I want a fresh kiss. I want a magical bliss. Stupid, stupid swooning.

Labels: live shows, mixtapes, swoon