Saturday, December 31
Wednesday, December 28
Myspace has been popping up alot lately in my daily conversations and readings. People at work are on it, customers are on it, and there have been multiple articles in the papers. This place is hopping. I was genuinely a little startled to find numerous, and then some, people that I know active there.
I didn't really hear about myspace until this summer when I was down in Portland and out with Kris. I didn't look into it as I already had mostly unused Friendster and Livejournal accounts. I don't know that I'll do much with it, but I think it will get more use than those others.
Word to your Momma.
Thursday, December 22
Caribou and Broken Social Scene made the tinymixtapes.com Top 25 & here's the Metacritic Top 30 along with Top Ten's from many significant magazines and sites.
Here are 5 things I'm glad to see existed in 2005
The FSM. I could explain why, but if you're reading this blog, and don't understand why, then you should stop reading this blog.
The Stewardess. While she was here, she left a good mark. Like a dog you hope comes back to visit. I won't say I always understood what the fuck was going on, but she served as a fine balance to the boys of the site. I am always glad to see her doing what she's doing (which, lately, apparently involves taking photos and posting song lyrics, but it's good anyway).
The game of the year: Resident Evil 4. I played some goddamn awesome games this year. RE4, with the corresponding commentary that occurred on this blog, was the most engaging game I played. I think A.Ho still has not finished this game, to which I say: get fucking to it man! It's been a year and the game was AWESOME. Plus, that game got me through the ice storm of this year, as I played it for 14 hours one day, and it allowed me to filter out the sound of one of my roommates fucking.
Health Insurance. Yes, I am displeased with my job. Yes, I don't know what I'm going to do, just that I need to do different things, and mid-life crisis and Bush is ending the fucking world and on and on and on.
But after breaking my leg and stabbing myself in the span of 11 days, plus getting a cold that may or may not be morphing into something awful, and having to pay about $700 bucks for all that, as opposed to over $1400, I am grateful that I have a job that provides me with something that is so damned helpful to live. 'Cause bad things happen sometimes, and you shouldn't be impoverished for wanting to be healthy.
The internet. You don't need a link; you're on it.
I was able to keep and maintain friendships, or develop new relationships, because of the 'net. I'll admit, it does make me a little lazy, and I'm frickin' tired of people forwarding their crazy spam-disguised-as-joke/story/anecdote/warning of the week. Nonetheless, I'm glad for this, because fostering the relationships is what makes life meaningful-and bearable, honestly.
Wednesday, December 21
WRONG! I updated my account profile on 11/25/2005! (Said so right on my profile, until I updated it again, that was a mistake.)
There is a reactivate account option available but they deleted all me email. Many many emails. Dating back to 1999.
This is fucked.
Oh yeah: So the reason I logged in today was to find an email address in my contact list there. Guess what. FUCKING GONE! All kinds of shit gone, gone, gone.
- Fiery Furnaces - EP
- Sleater-Kinney - The Woods
- Sufjan Stevens - Illinois
- Wolf Parade - Apologies To The Queen Mary
Second Tier Faves
- Bloc Party - Silent Alarm
- The Decemberists - Picaresque
- The Hold Steady - Separation Sunday
- Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - S/T
- Isolée - We Are Monster
- M.I.A. - Arular
Need more Listens to form Opinion
- M83 - Before The Dawn Heals Us
- Franz Ferdinand - You Could Have It So Much Better
- New Pornographers - Twin Cinema
- LCD Soundsystem - S/T
- Kanye West - Late Registration
- The Boy Least Likely To - The Best Pary Ever
Not In Top 50?
- Caribou - The Milk Of Human Kindness
- Broken Social Scene - S/T
- Architecture In Helsinki - In Case We Die
The Next 2005 Albums I Want:
- Ladytron - Witching Hour
- The Clientele
- Bonnie "Prince" Billy & Matt Sweeney - Superwolf
- Love Is All
- Antony & The Johnsons - I Am a Bird Now
- The National - Alligator
Just read Pitchfork's top 50 albums of 2005.
I own 3 of them.
Nobody wrote anything that made me think I should own anything I don't already own. It all gushed but didn't actually seem to say anything.
For the record, those albums were: Sleater-Kinney, Bloc Party, and Sufjan Stevens.
If these words were an image, they would be a big middle finger.
I've been coughing for 6 days now, sick for 7. I go see the doc on Friday. Every morning I've woken up for the past 6 days has been with a dry mouth and something slimy in the back of my throat. I can breathe through one nostril. I won't even bother to describe what I hack up for the first hour of the morning. Yay me.
I hate being sick for more than 2 days. Especially when I'm supposed to get a whole bunch of free time.
Plus; I'm being donated an Xbox for about 14 days. Half Life 2, here I come.
All made immediately less enjoyable by the fact that I'm coughing every 90 seconds.
Tuesday, December 20
- The guitarists attempt to replicate the energy, sound, and motions of Franz Ferdinand is too obvious and falls short.
- Vapid prosaic lyrics contribute a jejune sophomoricity(?) that is difficult to communicate.
They have an album coming out January 10th on Virgin records. I urge against its purchase.
Friday, December 16
Tuesday, December 13
Here's a comic.
Monday, December 12
long time no see!
can you forgive me?
can you remember me?
Here -- I'll refresh your memory (courtsey the private reserve):
Speaking of the musical bullets, I've never been one to play the musical beds, and I think I had a siginificant amount of crying to do over that, too. So, now that you are getting more of me than you probably ever possibly wanted, do you still want me? Worthless copper teardrops and all? I don't want to waste your time. I don't want to trick you or decieve you with clever paramnesia - arguably my most marketable skill. If you want me, I want you to want the real me - the me who thinks in Chinese riddles and alliterations and obscure allusions and is constantly slipping and sidling in her own brain with her own black hole. I imagine this sounds like a lot of work. I imagine it is. I will understand if you say thanks but no thanks. I understand the reasons people don't like me. I don't fault them for it, either. That doesn't mean I don't wish it were some other way, but shit, I can't blame them. I mean, these are my selling points: the great human-animal experiment, a house formerly occupied by heathens, a castrating compadre, and a perfect little girl. I can understand my unappeal.
Back in later, back in later, I'll be Echo, you be Satyr.
Oh the molassess that so quickly coats my throat when I see but one word, and in another language, at that. That inestimable elixir of bad-gone-good forged in fire from your simple acknowledgement. Gouge the fuck away, because it only gets sweeter as the noose draws tighter and my lineaments grow lighter and I wait with baited breath as I take the bait: hook-line and sink her! Oh, how I long to see your chest rise and fall and feel that skin on skin and the breathing of the other's breath and the smiling kisses and the noses that know and the eyes that, try as they might, can't help but to look down south and the ears so finely tuned to pick up on every rude smack and every rude slick-slippery sounding sound and insert whatever onomatopoeia tickles your penetration fancy. But you know what gets me the most? What makes me the most crazy and the most desperate? When you forget to breathe altogether and I feel pleasantly stuck in a vacuum of silent sex. Yes, that's what I remember the most. The heavy breath, heavy breath, kissing, licking, various flesh between your two jaws and various teeth making invariable dents in that various flesh and breathe and breathe and kiss and lift the head and close the eyes and, stop..... .... ..... ..... breathe again. It's like the slow bliss of a perfect gliss coming down with you inside me.
Thursday, December 8
¡Me gusto mucho! - or something like that.
Also. I put up a new post but for some reason it got shoved underneath Dan's latest post. Odd. Anyhow there it is. This is kind of a test post. Wee.
UPDATE: Post is properly positioned now. I think I know what happened. I don't want to try to explain it.
Tuesday, December 6
The title of the post comes from the liner notes in Broken Social Scene's It's All Gonna Break. I don't know if they are lyrics, or just little notes about the song; the liner notes are maddeningly vague about everything. But I put it up there because it made a lot of sense to me, today, when I read it.
I've been spending too much energy debating politics, I think, over in the SGC forums. You'd almost think I don't have anything better to do. And in this, you'd be right. What the fuck am I doing, arguing with people who want to negate my arguments by calling me intolerant? As if by using that word, they can get me to become a coward instead of a liberal-because if you're liberal and don't just want to allow bullshit to happen, you're intolerant, and should back down so idiots, assholes, and greedy bastards can do what they want. Fuck that.
Conversely; why am I putting my energy into talking to them? I haven't written anything in terms of stories or poems in months, and that just makes me feel weak, as though I'm failing something I barely understand. But I have no trouble working up the righteousness to tell someone their views on the sale of the morning after pill are fucked up. Good lord, this is your life, and you're losing it one minute at a time.
An old, loose thread has started to get taut again. I hate loose ends, usually represented by people who drift out of my life, either ripped by the tides, or seperated slowly by current. I keep trying to let it be, since I don't have the personality to cut it off, and my distaste of loose ends keeps it around, in hopes I'll be able to knot it someday. Truthfully, I guess I'm not so much bothered by the thread getting a tug, so much as the motives behind that. This thread belongs to a sweater I don't trust to keep me warm anymore, and I just don't know what to do with that. The whole thing could be repaired, useable, though not good as new. Or maybe it just stays as is.
Lately, though, I've just felt a whole lot like moping. Stay in bed too long, never go out, semi-hostile to everyone kind of moping. I've felt like this before, and traditionally, my answer to this has been writing and/or therapy. Instead of those things, I've been playing videogames, tricking out Magic decks and watching the Daily Show, coupled with shots of Jager. In truth, I guess I just miss writing, and need to find a way to work it back into my life on a regular basis. If I don't, what becomes of me? I don't exactly know, I just know that not writing makes me less happy.
I don't want to close this post. I feel like there's something I should say and haven't. Some thorn that doesn't want to come out, but needs pulling. I've got nothin', though. Or, better to say, I've got plenty, but little that can be made coherent and write well, in the time I have for this post. Work calls, and I should actually do a task that I'm paid for. I just hate hitting the Publish button with the vague unease in my chest.
I am also quite fond of Lang Creek's Glacier Pilot, my palate dost covet.
I thought that maybe I'd like the Sam Adams Winter Lager. I was mistaken. I've not consumed a more mediocre beer since Fat Tire.
Sierra Nevada's Celebration Ale would be the place to start if you need to wipe that Sam Adams taste from your molested palate, find it on tap for a grand delight, have at least two.
Red Hook's Winter Hook is a durable and stalwart beverage, but not necessary among these other selections.
I found myself enjoying some old favorites the last couple of months as well. Spaten Optimator is a 7.2% Doppel Bock that hits the mark every time, and my preferred vessel for pouring a Guinness down my throat is undeniably the stubbish dark bottles, I find them charming and capable.
Lastly, you must go out and find a bottle of Hop Trip.
Sunday, December 4
Then I think about the joke my Dad made on Thanksgiving, an impossible kind of funny. When he chose that particular moment to reach back in time and weave his humor he entered my newly created Comedic Hall of Fame. Too bad I can't remember what he said.
Saturday, December 3
Friday, December 2
Smokescreen: EAT YOU
Smokescreen: LIKE COOKIE MONSTER I EAT
fuzzy1: Cookie Monster no longer eats.
fuzzy1: Cookies are a sometimes food.
Smokescreen: OK, that's way too funny for me. I need pot or sleep.
Smokescreen: AND FUCK PCISM
Smokescreen: Cookie Monster EATS. He's my oral sex hero.
Tuesday, November 29
I do know his sister Jessica, and recall the story that on more than one occasion the family would wake in the wee hours of the morning to young Dax working out some music at the family piano.
My last encounter with him was in 2004 when he stopped in for some coffee on the day he was playing a show at The Big Easy. He was exceedingly kind and charismatic, much more so than you would expect from any customer.
Listen to some MP3s & check out DaxJohnson.com
Saturday, November 26
Thanksgiving presented an opportunity to play some Madden '06 but I didn't do so hot. For one I don't know dick about football when it comes to setting up plays, the difference between a TE and a CB. So I thought I'd give myself a bit of a tutorial, and a not so dull edge, should I need to prove my virtual sports prowess in the future. The good thing about old sports games is the price. Madden 2003? $2.99.
In other game news I'll most likely be buying a PS2 before I get a 360. That's not to say that I will have a PS 2 prior to having a 360. I'm just saying that if I were going to shell out some dollars on new toys this season it makes more sense to get the PS2. I'd like to play me some Killzone. And SOCOM. And more than one peep has told me the joys of the Final Fantasies. Oh, and DQ VIII. Many games, many of them cheap.
P.S. Sudoku will drive you mad.
Sunday, November 20
Today is the payoff for indecision as I'd ordered Electrifying Conclusion, the DVD of GbV's final show at The Metro in Chicago, New Years Eve 2004. Four Hours. 63 Songs. I just now watched the intro scene and am filled with excitement and emotion about watching the rest of it. If I'd bought that other digital entertainment I'd have been out of luck today. I better go buy some beer.
Thursday, November 17
"Sadly, unwanted pornography often leads to wanted pornography," Keeler told members of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops on Tuesday.
Indeed. I know that if it wasn't for all the unwanted porn out there, I'd've never gotten into watching people have sex. It's a slippery slope: you start by learning about sex, then suddenly you'd like to try that, 'cause it does seem like fun, and then, when no one wants to give you any, you wonder; is there some unwanted porn out there for me?
No-wait, I'm getting this all wrong.
I was actually offered porn by a street dealer. He was dressed all shady and shit, like some kind of Eminem white trash dude, only with the mustache that clearly marked him as a porno dude, instead of a meth dealer. And I didn't want it. I swear Mom, that porn isn't mine. I'm holding onto it for a friend.
And the next thing I know; I want porn. I don't know how that happened!
Wednesday, November 16
Saturday, November 12
"Rolling Stone just published a list of the top 100 guitar players of all time-- and they included Joan Jett. How can you fuckin' put Joan Jett in the top 100 guitar players of all time? Ahead of Pete Townshend! Rolling Stone sucks! They can blow me forever! If anyone here is from Rolling Stone they can blow me. You want some payola? Here's some payola, motherfuckers!"
Doesn't seem to jive with this though.
Friday, November 11
I'm not feeling too bad now. I'm tired, and a mild headache has kicked up. But I'd put the Hangover Threat Level at maybe Yellow. I need a soda and chicken strips, and I'm money.
I don't know, exactly, why I posted last night. Nor do I understand why I decided to share with people that I was drunk and going to get stoned. Hm. I guess I'm just that kind of fellow.
Everyone else is out of the office today. This is good. I can sleep at my desk, if need be. I won't, because it's uncomfortable, but I could. While I have been talking about taking a day off, I didn't call in today, because I don't call in sick b/c I'm hungover. That ain't cool.
Thursday, November 10
Wednesday, November 9
I'm back on the not sleeping so well ride again. Although this time I've got a solid excuse: 1) semi-snoring girlfriend and 2) Two fucking cats who think they can sleep on my legs. The girl is easy enough to deal with; roll over, rub her back for a second, she stops. Maybe not permanently, but long enough for me to fall asleep and ignore it.
The cats, on the other hand, are irritating li'l buggers. Not much to be done about them, except kick them off. Which has to be done every ten minutes.
So I wouldn't say that I'm at my highest mental acuity right now. Coupled with the traveling I've been doing, I just feel beat. I keep thinking I should call in sick to work, but I don't. Days when I don't have to do anything; this is a good dream.
Resident Evil 4 is out for the PS2. It includes an extra mission. I do believe I'll be putting 10+ hours into that one. Note to self: get Punisher ASAP, upgrade shotguns as fast as you can.
It's comic book day. In T-40 minutes, I'll walk into the comic book store and see what there is to see. I may also by Magic cards, but they will be cheap Magic cards-nothing over .50/pc. So far, I've been good about keeping my spending in line and focusing on other stuff. However; comics.
That other stuff sadly has not been writing. But I have a scene or two, and I may even get to it tonight. Depends; I would much prefer a 20 minute power nap when I get home, but if I get home after 6, say, then I can't do that-it'll fuck with my regular sleep. When I'm tired, though, I don't feel like writing, and after a day of work, I always want some time to unwind. Fuck. I just need to do things.
Excuses are what I do when I'm trying to be just busy enough to be pathetic.
Tuesday, November 8
(! -- Which song is your favorite? --)
I spent the first part of my morning at work tastelessly asking people to keep their eyes open for a one-armed man, Rick Allen, the drummer for Def Leppard. Hardly half my shift had gone by when a man with short blonde hair approached my register and, with a British accent, ordered a 16oz red-eye (coffee and shot of espresso). I wondered where this stranger hailed from. Alas, had he not been wearing his shirt I would have recognized him immediately as Phil Collen, guitarist for Def Leppard. He likes to go topless, ya know.
Saturday, November 5
Friday, November 4
Found out today I can run, if needed. Short distances. Doesn't hurt. 3 months out from the legbreaking, I figure that's pretty damned good.
It's been raining in Portland. All week. Sure, it'll let up for a few hours, but the rain does not go away. It has come back for a visit, after ignoring us for 2 straight winters. Time for beer.
Sunday, October 30
What I really want in a woman is a good sense of humor, intelligence, and she can't be part of the IBTC.I've never heard of this IBTC. Am I in the minority? Anyhow, this must be the reference he's making.
And to answer your question: Because I really dig Smallville.
What of it?
Thursday, October 27
If Arcade Fire and Broken Social Scene somehow found their way here in 2006 it would officially be a very good year.
Tuesday, October 25
Monday, October 24
Don't miss Kris' latest musings on music, and nerdery.
Saturday, October 22
If you've never heard the song My 2600 by Captain Funkaho, track seven of this compilation (and available on iTunes), you are missing out. It's a song about the widely distributed Atari 2600 home gaming system…
"joystick left to right, centipede all night…lose your mind while you're playing pong, frogger all night long"…that also sees fit to reference goats rather cryptically. After a peek of Funkaho's ep/single I realized it's a theme. I tagged both the song and the artist with goat at last.fm. Being as I could do a tag search I was curious what other songs may have been tagged thusly. I can proudly say I am the only user to use goat as a stand-alone tag. Others chose to use it in tandem with other descriptors.
When my brother heard this song he thought they were saying, "Frog-Her all night long." He's not well.
Friday, October 21
Also check: TinyMixTapes
I was in Boo Radley's today and they were playing Wolf Parade. I already liked this band but sometimes I need to hear something without trying to hear it. I found myself really digging it, bouncing my head and maybe even dancing a bit. You'll probably see it climb on my last.fm charts this week, if you're watching.
The Hold Steady's Separation Sunday should be heard. I'm not saying it should be liked, but I imagine that will be the case most of the time.
Thursday, October 20
Monday, October 17
Sunday, October 16
Vince has a new G4 laptop and was showing me Spotlight on the Tiger OS, it works along those lines. I wonder if Linux has something up that alley. It seems to me that Windows Explorer is becoming incredibly outdated.
UPDATE: I don't know a thing about Linux, so reading this helped. Here's some points I took away from my reading:
- The 'typical' Linux user is a hobbyist: He uses computers because computers are fun, programming is fun, hacking is fun. And Linux is a far better OS for a hacking hobbyist: He can take it apart to its most fundamental level, and reassemble it exactly as he sees fit.
However, the current influx of Linux users has a large percentage of non-hobbyist non-hackers. They want a computer that Just Works, a computer that works like Windows. They aren't interested in spending time setting up Linux to make it work the way they want it, they want it to work like that out-of-the-box.
And that's perfectly okay, but from the typical Linux user's perspective, this is like somebody who wants a Lego car that comes pre-assembled and glued together so it can't come apart. It is alien to their understanding. The only way they can react is with a baffled "Why would anybody want that?"
It's baffling. If you want a ready-made model car, buy a toy car. If you want a car you can build and take apart, buy Lego. Why would anybody want a Lego car that can only be used as a toy car? The whole point of Lego is that you have fun assembling it yourself!
This is how a typical Linux user reacts to the "Why can't it Just Work?" brigade: "If you want it to Just Work, use Windows. If you want to hack it, use Linux. Why would you ever want to switch to Linux if you have no interest in taking advantage of its open source nature?"
The answer, usually, is that they don't actually want to move to Linux. They just want to get away from Windows: They're running away from viruses; they're fleeing malware; they're striving to be free of restrictions on how they use their paid-for software; they're trying to escape from the clutches of the E.U.L.A. They aren't trying to get into Linux, they're trying to get out of Windows. Linux is simply the best-known alternative.
- Before you decide you want to switch to Linux, ask yourself "Why do I want to switch?"
If the answer is "I want an OS that puts all the power in the hands of the user and expects him to know how to use it": Get Linux. You'll have to invest a substantial amount of time and effort before you get it to where you want it, but you'll eventually be rewarded with a computer that works exactly the way you want it to.
BUT. . .
If the answer is "I want Windows without the problems": Do a clean install of Windows XP SP2; set up a good firewall; install a good anti-virus; never use IE for browsing the web; update regularly; reboot after each software install; and read about good security practices. I myself have used Windows from 3.1 through 95, 98, NT, and XP, and I have never once had a virus, suffered from spyware, or been cracked. Windows can be a safe and stable OS, but it relies on you keeping it that way.
If the answer is "I want a replacement for Windows without the problems": Buy an Apple Mac. I've heard wonderful things about the Tiger release of OS X, and they've got some lovely-looking hardware. It'll cost you a new computer, but it'll get you what you want.
In either case, don't switch to Linux. You'll be dissapointed with both the software and the community. Linux is not Windows.
I have some thinking to do. And I have about 70 GB unformatted on my HD that I could install Linux on. Maybe I'd dig it.
Cousin Marcus called this album the 'ultimate been burned by a girl' album. I wonder if something under the surface of my psyche needs the release of these sounds.
Saturday, October 15
Taking a pan out of the oven setting it on the counter, putting down the oven mitt, do this, do that, turn around, pick up the pan with my unmitted hand. Yurg.
Thursday, October 13
Comes from Fark; the poster in question was talking about the insanity of Fred Phelps, who apparently has a 'church' and a 'website' (www.godhatesfags.com-I include that so you understand where I'm coming from, not to promote the man, his ideas, or 'god'). I read in the thread that their site apparently has a counter on how many days Matthew Shepard has been in hell.
"I am trying to be a nicer person than I was in the past, but, I don't think I could pass up a chance to kick this SOB in the nuts."-icecycle
You know, I've been taught all my life that hatred is a dark, horrible thing. That fear and hatred can (and has!) taken people into hellish scapes Dante would cower in fear at the thought of. Yoda taught me well.
But I read shit like that, and I think: hatred has it's bonuses. 'Cause believe you me, given the chance and ANY reasonable motive to boost that goatblower's testicles to the moon with steel toed boots, I WOULD DO IT IN A HEARTBEAT. Repeatedly. And I don't feel bad about that, nor like I'm doing something wrong, even. I would be perfectly content to let him be eaten by wolverines on rabies; and fuck it, I'd sell tickets to the event. Beer. Superballs to throw at the wolverines soas to goad them into even nastier action. Whatever it took to make sure he was fucked up.
I'm just sayin'.
Wednesday, October 12
Tuesday, October 11
Bad news the first: I caught either the SARS or the common cold. I feel like shite. The silver lining is that when a woman on the plane was very rude to me, I breathed all over that beyotch and wished her the worst.
Bad news the second: Someone broke in to my house while I was gone. The silver lining is that I expected it and had some...shall we say failsafes, in place for just such an occurance. I'm reminded of a line from Jackie Brown - gold star/cookie/etc. for the first guesses to guess correctly!
Bad news the third: Someone's been reading my diary. By which I mean, my privacy on this weblog has been compromised. The silver lining? Well, there is none. I'm going to stop blogging on here. I'll continue on Hapless Happiness, but all of my intimacy, all of my vulnerabilites, all of my doubts and dreams are going to have to spend the rest of their days in the confines of my cranium. Poor intimacy, vulnerabilities, doubts and dreams. The bigger the headache, the bigger the pill, compadres.
A - would you mind taking my namesake and beautious visage down? You guys have my maths (I think), if you want to talk, because I'm pretty sure email is also compromised. Fuck. I'll be in touch as things calm down.
love like the strongest diamond,
The link goes to a column on where he sees the future of America going.
Many of his thoughts mirror my own. The column focuses mostly on transportation, and what will happen to it as a result of oil prices skyrocketing.
After spending time in Europe, and getting everywhere either by rail, foot, or occasional bus, I really wonder why the fuck this country is so far behind on train travel. I love going to Seattle from Portland. Takes about 3 hours-just a little longer than the drive-and the trains run all the damn time.
But to get from Portland to Spokane, the next biggest city east of here, really, that's even close to accessable, that trip takes 12 hours. And you have to be willing to leave at ungodly hours of the morning. Or arrive at ungodly hours of the night.
Shit, in about a week and a half, I fly to Las Vegas. Made reservations for the trip last week-figure the 3rd or 4th. Costing me almost $300. Costs me $300 bucks to get to San Diego this weekend by plane.
These are popular places to go for a weekend. Who the fuck can just afford $300?
And why does no one want to use the train? Well, I suppose this actually depends on where you want to go. I wouldn't rely on the public transport in Spokane to move dogshit. If I want to get anywhere in a reasonable amount of time, I drive. In NYC the subway costs about 3 bucks a ticket. Holy fuck, I might as well walk unless I gotta go great distances. Seattle's public transport system I've heard fair to middlin' things about.
The road trip has been an American staple for a long, long time. Moving is part of who we are-I think it might be so ingrained in our character that stillness is something I think most people only reserve for sleep. So what happens when we start to revolt because no one is actually thinking of our character as a people? Instead of looking forward, we rush to keep things the same.
And that's really sad to me.
Sunday, October 9
Saturday, October 8
Maybe you've been wondering about my photo-double status? Well I hadn't seen Gretchen in a while so I figured she'd found someone better suited to the work. She came by work yesterday, and indeed she has.
In the last two weeks I've been told three times that I look like Tommy Lee. Others aren't disagreeing. The hair has gotten long. That's the only explanation I can offer for this sudden public epiphany.
Ted Leo is rocking me.
I've a new book. It came in the mail today, a nice surprise. It was written by my friend Kevin Sampsell who resides in Portland, OR, works for Powell's, and gave me a place to stay and my first Espresso job back in 1996 when I moved, briefly, to Portland. It came to me from Dan, whom you may be (somewhat) familiar with. I read some bits of it, hardly any really, and found some delightful excerpts to share with friends. So I leave you with this: "You are the unslickest motherfucker I have ever seen."
Thursday, October 6
Percentage of U.S. children who now have one of these nonbiodegradable chemicals in their bloodstreams : 96
• Year by which Brazil's government will have switched its computers entirely to open-source software : 2010
Amount they expect the switch will save each year : $48,000,000 [ …or maybe $120,000,000? ]
• Minimum number of prescription drugs currently under investigation for Medicaid price-gouging or • marketing fraud : 500
• Number of Danish graduate students who last December released a copyright-free recipe for an “open-source beer” : 15
Number of times the website has been accessed so far : 133,000
• Average number of $75 anal bleachings that an L.A.-area salon performs each day : 5
Stats courtesy of Harpers Index
Linkage dug up by A.Ho
Exchanged a bunch of CDs yesterday. Got 52 bucks out of 'em.
Bought: Death Cab For Cutie-Plans.
It isn't sticking right away, but I've only listened to it once. It doesn't suck, but I probably need to listen to it somewhere that isn't work.
Pelican-The Fire In Our Throats Will Beckon The Thaw
Holy shit it's good. Instrumental epic metal. If the vocals to heavy metal give you headaches, give this a shot-then check out anything by Isis (who have vocals, but mine the same territory, which is interesting enough for them to be on Mike Patton's Ipecac label).
Broken Social Scene
They should've named it Windsurfer Nation.
That is my only complaint. One of the albums of the year, I have no doubt. Floored after only one listen. Just plain good, and if you don't like it, there is, most likely, something deeply flawed within your soul that requires surgery.
But I figure I got 3 out of 3. Pretty good score.
If Melissa gave a fuck about a bitch, I'd always be broke. I'd never have no motherfucking Indo to smoke.
So back up, Bitch, because I'm struuuuuggling
Just get on your knees and then start juuuuuggling
These motherfucking nuts in your mouth
Its me, Warren G, tha nigga with the clout
You know why that makes me laugh so much? Well, yes, because juggling balls is funny, but also because, even though I *know* he says "clout", I always think he says:
"Its me, Warren G, tha nigga with the gout."
Also, the beat is infectious. Am I qualified to write for Pitchfork yet?
Okay, gotta go get ready to...ahh, too easy. What I mean to say is that I gotta get ready for my flight.
love like a torrent,
PS. You'll never be my only one, trick-ass bitch!
Wednesday, October 5
I bought the new Broken Social Scene today…from Best Buy.
I buy almost all of my new music at a local outfit, Boo Radley's, and expected to do the same with this new disc, but it didn't work out that way. Through no fault of their own Boo Radley's was unable to get their pristine, ungrubby mitts on ANY of the units ordered, their distributor didn't order enough. They are supposed to get some this week, but they won't be the limited bonus edition containing e.p. to be you and me.
Grant and I had plans to go on a hike today, but I've had a bit of a cold and felt limited to short term bursts of energy. We opted to seek out BSS and coffee and, through a course of mutual decision making, headed north to check out a new Starbucks and hit Best Buy. They had what we sought, and for cheap. Which, honestly, doesn't hurt.
Tuesday, October 4
However, I'm so glad satire still fucking cuts to the bone in this society.
Bill Hicks, genius and ranter extrodinare, often wailed that demons were being sent "to lower the standard for the rest of us, perfect and holy children of god, which is what we are make no mistake about it." And when you look at the current level of competitance (which I've probably gloriously misspelled, making me a jackass) in the public sector, coupled with the sheer raping economic savagry of the private sector, I can't help but think: fuckin' a, the demons are winning.
Is that the wrong impression? Am I just fuckin' stupid or high?
No. I don't know when it became so American to stop questioning the authority, to just accept the struggles that were losing ones were always going to be losing ones (hi Democratic party!) and basically to just cease to call Bullshit on people who were running such high bullshit that superdense forms of matter were taking place, but Fuck I Am Tired of it.
I want every goddamn thing proven, now. I want to take what I need, and be free to give what's extra away. I want to make sure my things don't fucking own me. And I won't let 'society' tell me that if I have an X360 and a PS3 and a Revolution then I will be happy or things will be OK.
I should've gone into politics. I'd be the worst politican ever, but everyone would know it, at least.
Monday, October 3
The new Broken Social Scene comes out tomorrow, and though I probably won't pick it up until Friday I went ahead and put it in the album picks as well. Heck, I was in there editing so why not. Call it prescience.
Saturday, October 1
Friday, September 30
Thursday, September 29
Sadly I only have a vague memory of meeting the Gits, and honestly I only remember meeting Mia. I was probably underage and couldn't attend the show, and I'd never listened to them at the time, so I didn't HiLite the meeting in my memory.
When Mia Zapata was murdered it came up that she had stayed with us. I'd listened to them by this time and her death hit me pretty hard. To this day every time it comes to mind or I come across something that reminds me of it I feel that sense of tragic loss. I can't imagine how people that knew her must have felt, when I, who had only a faint, indefinite memory and a connection by music was floored.
I did not feel like repeating my Sufjan embarassment.
Now I have to decide how much I'd like to see Built To Spill. Last time they played here, the only time, they were very underwhelming, not bad, just not fabulous. Anyone ever seen a righteous show by them? Should I go?
I saw The Treepeople play 13 years ago at Mother's Pub (now the B-Side) and that still stands out as one of the best shows I've ever seen. Mr. Martsch is certainly capable of supplying The Rock.
Ok. Too funny. I was looking over the C/Z Records website, which has some good history, and came across this bit about Hammerbox. They were a great live band and their self-titled album rocks. Here ya go:
1992 - MC Hammer threatens C/Z artist, Hammerbox with a lawsuit over their name. Eventually the suit is dropped. Hammerbox signs with A&M, tours extensively, and finally breaks up. Carrie goes on to start Goodness.A.Ho
I got the pic to the left in an html mail from a club in Houston that I somehow managed to get on their VIP list. Normally, I think, "Oh, good. Glad to see Opus is still keeping the Beautiful People scene alive." But today, they offered me something totally different. I had my fucking mind blown by today's email. They introduced me to a band called The Reds. Embiggen the picture to chickety chickety check it out.
About goddamned time. Finally. Finally! An alternative band that plays hip-hop. I never thought I'd see the day.
Next thing you know, we'll be having hip-hop bands playing alternative music! Will my mind ever cease to being blown?
Wednesday, September 28
Bloggin My Noggin (which started as Mental Illin), established in August of 2003, was denied a timely observation of said establishment.
It's been two years going now. I need to thank Dan for keeping it going when I was unable to and I need to thank Messy Texan for her presence. And to the people who actually read this, we're glad to have you. To my knowledge that amounts to Kris and Fuz. Nato is probably poking his head in here every now and again as well.
p.s. I think Liz hangs around a bit too. High-five, keep the spirit alive.
Tuesday, September 27
Walking home from work today I was fortunate enough to run into him again, at the freeway on-ramp near my apartment, backpack in tow, nicely dressed and shaven, thumbing for a ride and waving and smiling as cars passed him by.
This got me to thinking as I walked the rest of the way home about two things that I've never done ,and will probably never do, as my Mom put the fear into me about them when I was a kid. Number one is hitchiking and number two is ski-jogging.
So, a shout out to Eli, a brave and kind soul, I wish you well and look forward to hearing about your travels. Godspeed.
Friday, September 23
Wednesday, September 21
But you know what sucks more? Galveston Island happens to be probably my favorite place in the whole universe. And, if it takes a direct hit, it'll be underwater. To me, personally, that will be either a total disaster or very nearly a total disaster.
Galveson's beaches are crummy. Most of the population is hovering just above the poverty line, teetering on it, or has fallen below it. Crime's pretty high for such a small population . Mostly its hot as hell and humid. Every direction you look are reminders of the faded glitterati from its days as a booming port-of-call in the late 1800's, like the curled edges of a yellowed photograph. It's prosperity was cut short and its human arrogance humbled by Isaac's Storm. Most people hate Galveston. But this place is a special place to me.
A long time ago, I lived in Houston. I didn't like Houston. In fact, when I lived there, it would be fair to say that I hated Houston. Objectively, its pretty gross. But I harbored resentment towards Clutch City.
See, believe it or not, at one point in my life, the potential energy inside me was palpable. I was a very lucky girl in high school. I was smart, but not too smart. I was pretty but not intimidatingly so. I came from a family with money and I lived in the old money part of town but I was as suspicious of money then as I am now. I sailed through high school. Glided like an ice skater. I was a star. And then the mascara tears came. I fell in love with a boy who would quietly root for my failure for many years. I wanted this boy to really know that he was loved because I had a nagging suspicion that it would be his first time to have been loved. I wanted him to see the things in me that I love about myself and love them, too. And, if we were to shrink me a bit more, I believe that we would undoubtedly find that these urges result from a basically abortive and absent workaholic neurologist for a dad. So, when I was accepted to Vanderbilt, Pepperdine, and Mount Holyoke, I smiled weakly, put the acceptance letters in a box inside a box inside an old piece of luggage in my closet and I never told anyone until a year ago. Because he was going to Houston, and so was I. I suppose this sounds too very 'poor little rich girl'. I suppose I am leaving out important parts to the story. Oh, well.
So, we went to Houston. I lost interest in my long time dream of becoming a physician within a few months. I remembered that I don't like touching sick people. How ironic.
My second semester, I moved out of the dorm and I got my own apartment. I felt like a new woman. I decided to become an archeologist. And within two weeks, he moved himself in. Within a two more weeks he had started calling me names pretty regularly. Within two more weeks he had started throwing things when he was angry. It escalated at this rate until the end of my summer semester, when I went numb. I had so much love, you know? So so much love to give. And he didn't want it. In fact, when I gave it, he would punish me in one way or another for it. I didn't understand that and it seemed I would never find anyone who wanted it.
I developed an untestable hypothesis: The quickest way to get someone to develop an unmitigated hatred towards you would be to offer them the potential of limitless undying love.
I would drive to Galveston every night, about half an hour before he would be home from school/work, and go to this one spot on the west side, near San Luis Pass and LaFitte's Cove. I had to get away from him, I had to get away from my apartment that smacked of him and I had to get away from the city that had lured me away from my dreams with promises of love.
You had to take a crookedy side road to get to my spot but it was mostly desolate most of the time. There was no beach. Just the elevated seawall and sea. And I would sit in my shiny new Mustang convertible and cry and cry and cry and smoke and smoke and smoke. I would look out to the ocean and let the feeling of inconsequence that it evoked carry me through those sleepless hours. I felt mostly dead but I kept hoping.
But I didn't want to believe my own hypothesis because I'm a guilt-harboring romantic idealist. I kept hoping, you know? And then, one day, I just stopped feeling. Sort of. The groaning from some unspecified place in my gut was loud. And one day it deafened me. I decided that I might prefer to die. So, I drove to my spot to think it over. I cringe that because I am here writing this you will be able to write off the absolute seriousness with which I considered suicide. I offer you my most resolute assurances that having love pent up inside, to the point of suffocation, because unleashing the love was like unleashing annihilation, made me wish for death.
So, I got out of my car and I looked out over the ocean. I smoked my Marlboro but I didn't cry. Then the wind whipped my hair around my neck. You know that feeling? That shivery, goosebumpy feeling that happens when the wind whips you hair on your unsuspecting skin? That feeling can't last longer than two seconds. But its a good feeling. Its a feeling of aliveness. Its a stimulus and response.
And I decided then that I had to be brave for love. For loves unknown and loves undiscovered and loves unrequited and maybe even loves that would always be unrealized. And being brave for them meant not dying. And I decided that, in the meantime, I would rely on those sporadic moments of visceral experience - of wind whipping your hair and rain making your skin wet in that way that only rain can - that I would rely on those things to remind me that I was still a human. I decided that, maybe, that's what being human was all about. Deciding to live when dying was much easier.
And I decided to live on that typically mild, but windy, night sometime in December 1999 in Galveston, Texas. And I had wanted to take my current boyfriend there. We had almost gone over Labor Day. I wanted to take him to my spot. Wish I had. Hope its still there when I can go next.
Monday, September 19
Found out today that filming is supposed to start near the end of September, maybe early October. And I also found out that one Salma Hayek may also be showing her hot self around town.
Friday, September 16
I may be cast as a photo-double for a movie to be filmed here in the near future, though I may not be tall enough (bummer). It would make sense that this could also include stand-in work. Anybody want to venture a guess as to who the actor is?
Think 80s teen-flicks.
PS I was drunk when I made the 2nd comment. Red wine. One bottle. Me. Who will conquer!?
It's times like that, though, that make me wish I didn't live far away from you people.
I need a nap, maybe even now.
/will trade oral for nap
Thursday, September 15
Thought you should know.
...oh, and by combination I mean one or another, not blended. Scared you huh?
...oh, again, I watched the third episode of Oz yesterday. I'm still not sure what to make of this show. Meanwhile The Wire continues to be satisfactory, and oddly elegant.
Wednesday, September 14
Tuesday, September 13
Instinct, that sometimes miniscule voice I fail to listen to. Such was the case when I folded my hand before the flop and then flopped what would've been a Full House. Ugh.
Sunday, September 11
I would consider most of the music I own and listen to to be in the top third of all music ever. Not everyone will think so but I don't care. Within that tiny collection one-third will be superior, and probably more listened to, than the other two-thirds, and so forth.
This post made me think about that.
Thursday, September 8
Wednesday, September 7
Sunday, September 4
Saturday, September 3
Friday, September 2
I've my own personal volume of the first season of the new Battlestar Galactica now as well. I have three more episodes of that to watch. Love it.
Son Volt is playing at Riverfront Park tonight as part of the glorious Pig Out In The Park. It's the first time they've ever had a band I wanted to see. I'm not going. I was going to go but I drank a bit much last night and I'm staying home. And it's not really a good venue anyway, at least to me. I'd have to go down early and stake out a place on the hill amongst all the porked out masses, and wait. No thanks.
I won't be attending the Spokane Idol semifinals either.
I guess thats all.
Thursday, September 1
Wednesday, August 31
Tuesday, August 30
Monday, August 29
Sunday, August 28
Saturday, August 27
What I know: Messy Texan posted recently in a post, and this is excerpted, 'you should unfuck yourself directly'
That was funny. Wasn't it?
And now, after a couple days of strange errors, I am able to check my gmail again. HooRAY.
One Blue Dot Ale from Hair of the Dog.
I will never drink that shit again. Ever.
I am stupid hung over, and that is after 8 hours of sleep. My head has little ice skaters cutting into my brain. I feel queasy. I've got a touch of the shakes.
So fuck that noise. I will now recommend Blue Dot only to people I want to see in pain.
On the plus side, Kris and I had a good time, along with Dan C and Ashley, so at least the evening was good.
Friday, August 26
And while I agree with Fuz and the MT that people should stand up for themselves, and live responsible lives, AND that they are responsible for the shit they do when the fuck up or lie-
I also know that there, sometimes, but for the grace of the Universe, go I. And as absurd as it may seem, people don't make decisions like hiding their homosexualty, or their bizzare love for Andrew WK, with the idea that they are going to hurt anyone. They do it because they think they are doing the right thing-the best possible thing.
And it should also be noted, that people do things and make demands, that us, looking in on their lives, do not understand. Can't. I have a friend whose ex-wife did shit that should not stand anywhere under any circumstances. Yet he stayed with her. And I supported him, because he's my friend. And when he got out, I supported him in that, too.
I love Fuz, I do. But I also know that he made a decision not to go to Texas in part b/c his SO said: If you go, you go without me. And this had not just a little to do with the attitudes us northerners have about the conditions in the south. (Some justified, some not, like anything else.)
I don't bring up that story to make Fuz look bad, I bring it up because, like it or not, we are passing judgement on someone whose life we do not have, with pressures we do not understand, and with biases that have nothing to do with that person's life, but with ourselves.
I'm not saying that we are doing something wrong, mind you. I'm saying that we should acknowledge what we are doing, and allow for the possibility that we are wrong, or at least, being harsh.
That DOESN'T mean I think that people should get a free pass for the dumb fucking decisions they make. As the Texan pointed out-taking responsibility for your actions is part of what makes you an adult. And I even said to Fuz in an email that
I don't think you should give him any slack. He chose a lie. On top of that-he chose cocaine. One I could understand, and feel bad for, but not a lot. The other, I just think: fucking moron.
Because at some point, he said: this is more important than that to me.
But perhaps I was quick in my judgement.
Thursday, August 25
I hurt myself laughing. But not in the long-term injury way. Thankfully.
In other news, the pretzels in Frito-Lay's Munchies Classic Mix can be considered to be toxic to carbon-based life forms, and you should avoid them if hungry for food. If hungry for love, please eat immediately.
Wednesday, August 24
Tex: You were not invited here to censor yourself, so please don't feel that you have to stylize your posts. You add a wonderful vibrancy and life to this page and I'm glad that you're here.
There is no theme. This site is for us. To whatever purpose it suits yourself, Dan, and I is what it will be. If it's about anything it's about having a place to share and keep in contact with each other. Maybe other people who know us check in here once in a while to see what we're up to and see what's been on our minds.
I don't know that I can offer any words to alleviate your worries. Please just know that you are not alone in being afraid of stuff.
I, for one, am afraid of posting anything too real here. You bring it.
Monday, August 22
Who said it!?
C'mon, you want to know about who said it! Answer in link.
In other news: Kris-cool button.
Texan: I hope your hangover is done now.
And me: I get my stitches removed today.
Sunday, August 21
Wednesday, August 17
I find that with the iPod, and iTunes for that matter, that I tend to listen more to playlists or just my shuffled library, and not albums. I like to listen to albums. A lot. On the go it makes more sense because the chance that I'm going to be able to give an album the attention that it deserves is very little, so playlists are ok. If I'm listening to music at my PC then it's usually because I am organizing or adding to the library or just get the urge to hear a certain song and then that song or some website will trigger the desire to hear a different song.
I've fallen out of the habit of listening to albums. I used to just lay on my bed or chill on a couch and close my eyes and take in some music, or maybe I was driving, in the days that I had a car, in which case I kept my eyes open. Mostly. Anyhow, albums rule and are really my preferred way to take in music. I'm going to emphasize it more in my day to day routine. Here's what I've enjoyed recently, nothing new, just what I picked out of my collection to hear.
Last week I listened to Sleater-Kinney's The Woods multiple times. It is good. Very good. I think I only listened to it two or three times immediately after I bought it. That was enough to determine that it was as good as any hype it received and that it met/exceeded my own expectations. Then I bought Stars Set Yourself On Fire and that album just grabbed ahold of me and everytime I thought about listening to SK my Stars album would glint in the sun and beg to be spun. I listened to that yesterday after not hearing it for a month or more. It also meets the criteria of good, and very good. Today I gave Sonic Youth's Murray Street two spins. I was going to name my favorite tracks off of it but that's really irrelevent. I do have favorites on it but the whole thing is just so phenomenal and no tracks on it deserve the disservice of being unfavored. Just now I listened to Caribou The Milk of Human Kindness. Wow. Utterly pleasant. Two songs that I'll note as personal standouts from that disc are Bees and Brahminy Kite.
We're all rockstars here.
Tuesday, August 16
Disc 01 -- Episodes 1 & 7
Disc 02 -- Episodes 2 & 4
Disc 03 -- Episodes 3 & 6
Disc 04 -- Episodes 5 & 8
Disc 05 -- Episodes 9 & 10
Disc 06 -- Episodes 11 & 13
Disc 07 -- Episodes 12 & 14
Discs 08 - 11 contain the remaining episodes (15-21) in order.
Ryne Sandberg: baseball Hall of Famer
Michael Clarke: drummer for The Byrds
Paul d'Amour: original bassist for Tool
Chuck Jones: two words -- Loony Tunes. Directed How the Grinch Stole Christmas!
And some people that I did:
Julia Sweeney: created and portrayed Pat on SNL. And consequently came into my workplace the other day and ordered, if I remember correctly, a Quad Grande w/room Americano.
Craig Montaya: bassist for Everclear. Formerly in the Spokane band Soul Patch.
And of course:
Monday, August 15
This is some of the stuff I came across in my search for other's opinions and experiences regarding NETFLIX.
Manuel Villanueva's CALCULATOR, OP-ED & JOURNAL
Michael S. Muegel's An Analysis of Netflix's DVD Allocation System
An alternative -- GreenCine
My DVD Plate:
I'm currently in the midst of the first season of 24. I'm eleven hours into the story and quite enthralled, so enthralled in fact that I'm a bit ticked that I'm not getting a new disc tomorrow. I thought the delay was simply the non-delivery of mail on Sunday but as it turns out NETFLIX workers don't do Saturday or Sunday, so my mail isn't even being processed until tomorrow when those chumps get back to work. This seems like an unecessary delay, sure, you can't help the mail, but it seems counterproductive to be in a service oriented business and not have people work on Saturday, hell, even Sunday could be a nice catch up day. I wonder if NETFLIX people work Holidays. Hmm. Anyhow, 24 rules. Hard.
Wednesday, August 10
Tuesday, August 9
Now, I've got to see an orthopedic surgon, just to make sure everything is going to heal ok.
But, of course, using the ones my insurance 'approves' of is proving to be an insane difficulty. The one my doc recommended-less so. But I'm still waiting for an appointment.
I hate this waiting, doctor, insurance bullshit. I just want to go to work tomorrow, and I want to know if I need crutches or not. Why is this so hard? And why will it cost me so much money?
I'm going to go play videogames. Looks like at least the Stewardess had a rockin' time.
Saturday, August 6
Wednesday, August 3
Monday, August 1
Starbucks went through a similar thing years ago. Customers wanted nonfat milk in their lattes and Howard Schulz essentially said 'no way.' Why? Because a whole milk latte just tastes a hell of a lot better, and gosh darn it that's the way it's supposed to be. He eventually gave it a chance, to the tune of many many millions of dollars.
People want what they want, and pay for it. If that demand can be met, ethically and morally, and it's not being done, only stubborness and perhaps severe mental retardation are to blame.
- A.Ho -
Sunday, July 31
My family learned in April that my sister would be expecting her second child in late December. She learned this week that she will be expecting twins. My nephew Sean will not be quite two years-old at that time. I'm no seer but I predict exhaustive days and nights to come for her. If she lived closer I would be able to help out once in a while. As it stands I only see them about every three months.
I'd like to grant her the patience and stamina needed to endure her continuing motherhood. Can I do that?
- A.Ho -