xylophone and 4/4 time = 1959

this remix of lily allen’s “smile” from who killed the mixtape? makes me daydream. it is always the same dream. i am in a scene from the sandlot, walking by a transistor radio on my way to the pool. taking stock of the situation i feel both safe and scared. no h.i.v., no global warming, no locking doors, but also no diversity, freedom, or mtv. i think i like it better now. but still, the sun feels good on my skin.

define: networking

this story talks about secrets >
and that seems strange

if i had to publish a secret
it would be that i

see more
feel more
understand more
than anyone willing to listen

so where does that leave us?

saturdae

saturday night i was at a private table in a v.i.p. area, sipping two-hundred-dollar bottle-service vodka. it tasted alright. i was wearing a ralph lauren vertically striped fitted polo shirt underneath a marc jacobs crewneck wool/microfiber sweater. denim longpants by diesel and shoes by kenneth cole rounded out the ensemble. even with the free bottles, i still felt the need to buy a drink from the bar, which i then gave to someone i didn’t know. i’m not exactly sure why. mostly, i just wanted someone to look at met instead of through me. mostly, it was a good night.

why we love jessica stam

surprisingly, we love ms. stam more for her mind than anything else. even if she doesn't know her thread count (we sleep under nothing less than 650) we would totally vote for oprah. see if you can guess what our favorite part of this ny mag interview is. hint: the quote, “i make clothes look good” is our second favorite::

name: Jessica Stam
Job: Model
Age: 20
Neighborhood: East Village
Who's your favorite New Yorker, living or dead, real or fictional?
Patrick Bateman from the book American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis. "Don't just look at her ass, EAT IT."
What's the best meal you've eaten in New York?
Macaroni and cheese with truffles.
In one sentence, what do you actually do all day in your job?
I make clothes look good.
Where do you get your coffee?
Starbucks.
What's the last thing you saw on Broadway?
Wicked.
Do you give money to panhandlers?
No.
What's your drink?
Iced tea.
How often do you prepare your own meals?
I order in.
What's your favorite medication?
Midol.
What's hanging above your sofa?
A light.
How much is too much to spend on a haircut?
That depends on the one holding the scissors.
When's bedtime?
Bedtime is eight hours before my alarm goes off.
Brunch: pro or con?
Pro!
What's your thread count?
I forget.
What do you hate most about living in New York?
Walking through a group of slow-moving tourists.
What's your brand of jeans?
Trash & Vaudeville.
When's the last time you drove a car?
December 27.
Who should be the next president?
Oprah.
Times, Post, or Daily News?
New York Post.
Yankees or Mets?
Yankees.
What makes someone a New Yorker?
It's not a matter of time, it's more like a feeling one gets. You'll know when this is your home.

state of the union

there are
guidelines
to saving face
to admitting wrong
to asking forgiveness
to not having to relocate

if you
let a 29 year-old enroll in 7th grade
if he
behaves in a predictably unacceptable manner
if we
find out about this <

no interviews
the level of your intelligence is no longer up for debate
no astonishment
experiencing surprise assumes a prior collection of thoughts

somehow
i remain convinced that life is not nearly as complicated as advertised

dream boy

i spent an hour thinking about whether stereophonics’ “dakota” or band of horses’ “the great salt lake” was the best song to listen to if one were driving alone through the midwest on a sunny warm day with the windows down. i have never been in this situation in real life, but i have dreamed about it a few times. i cannot, however, remember what i am hearing at the time. i think that the edge would have to go to “the great salt lake” because i could listen to it for a longer time. “dakota” evokes strong emotions so it gets tiring.

these mediocre repetitive-landscape dreams are troubling. i wonder if endless hours of desensitizing mtv programming have made reality a fantasy to me. i can only imagine one night i will wake up sweating after a fantasical dream where after a middle-class upbringing i settled down with a wife and two and a half children.

twenty-three years late

at&t is the new cingular
oceania is now at war with eurasia
oceania has always been at war with eurasia
the proles will believe anything

think don't drink

when i am left to think with full freedom my mind wanders pretty far. it will first consider what my senses are registering at the time and then radiate outwards. these new thoughts will mix with what is familiar to me, memories i have of the past. eventually, however, my thinking always comes back to one of three things: inconsistency, repitition, or realization.

inconsistency leads to more thinking and, if i am not smart enough, also leads to questions. usually there is some piece of missing information that i need. if i can’t get to that information, though, this line of thinking is hell because there is no resolution.

repetition means that i’ve been down this thought path before. at least some things in this chaotic world are predictable. although it is usually less of a comfort and more of a feeling of emptiness. boring, numbing emptiness.

realization is the best place to end up. and the worst. it can either be discovery or despair, but at least it is something. it is rare in its true form.

this is why i drink.

wtf

i’ve recently been swapping hip hop albums at the used record store since i missed much of the non-singles from albums released before college. it’s a pretty fun thing--like doing research with a professor who uses lots of profanity. a few days ago i traded for capital punishment, the dirty version. every song has the sweet, sweet cursing that i expect aside from “still not a player”, which was the clean radio version. what’s the use of buying the record if i can’t listen to a five hundred pound cassanova rap about his six foot dick? for all i know, you couldn’t measure his kayak with six rulers. i mean, i like boats and all. but i like lyrical integrity more.

misplaced trust

snow this morning
a first in the new year

there are people who
jump the gun
arrive before the plows
park between what they hope are lines

the sun shows
more than we would like
mistakes that people make
but only half of the story

we guess often
and while rarely correct
there is always the chance
that the sun stays away

day old blues

a landslide almost hit my car today. luckily it stopped just short of the road. i was listening to kings of leon, fleetwood mac would have been disastrous. the side of this particular road was carved out of a hill. it appears that humans fucked with nature and then nature fucked back. with a passion sorely lacking in modern humans. it was really quite a beautiful thing if you don’t pay any mind to the tragic aspect of it.

simultaneous disharmony

on the news
more about a midwestern teen
kidnapped for 4 years

why did he stay?
they ask
how is this possible?

sometimes people believe
what is convenient
sometimes nothing is convenient
so they ask each other

sometimes people stay
when it's convenient
sometimes convenience has its price
but they didn't ask you

did they?

anniversary edition

the anniversary of this blog has come and gone in unheralded fashion. i am happy with the quality of the proetry and ranting displayed on these pages during the past year. however, this is not exactly feminist-meets-fratboy origami blog i envisioned so long ago. here are some aught-six highlights and aught-seven resolutions:

best of last year:
--p.l.a. comment: “avante-garde chili cupcakes... cubist reflections... introspectives on entomologists... a christmas eve brunch with t. price... priceless.” by george michael (a pseudonym for a teenage girl, no doubt) this comment, in response to my december post about thoughts inside a salon, is as close to perfect as i can imagine.

--show the blog attended: the thursday barsuk records showcase at south by southwest in austin. two gallants, mates of state, and nada surf. this was also my drunkest show. it was so good we stayed at that one show all night and drank with what had to be a high school girl.

--p.l.a. guest blogger: d.e. the only guest blogger of ’06. however, open invitation to her exists.

--t.price post: this nihilist post about anyday u.s.a.

--i am not victor ward post: this well written post about a nada surf show.

resolutions for sophomore year:
-more frequent, less-sensical posts from me.

-i’d like to get back to this blog’s core mission: being a magnet made of anti-truth, thus attracting fragments of truth out of today's nonsense. also, more collaborations, theme days, etc.

-to fall short of everyone’s expectations.

misplacement

the thing about being at my office at 1am on a sunday night

is that it's quiet
is that i'm on fire
is that deadlines fade
is that accomplishment solves
is that disappointment waits for light

something went wrong
i'm sure
but it's 1am on a sunday
i'm sure

re-drawing the line

dinner in manhattan, which was enough
two points surfaced quickly
my gambling habit has increased
long rides in the towncar should occur more often

i was told
stop checking the internet
relax, baby
you're not seeing the story

habits aren't all bad
drinking on the highway can be legal
categorize this night as positive
more is more

early sxsw post

even though this year’s south by southwest music festival is not announcing its final lineup until february (last year it was december) donewaiting has done some investigative work for us. The most notable likely candidates include mates of state, rahim, saturday looks good to me, headlights, and snowden. i’m already starting to hear anticipatory buzzing in my ears.

to get you in the mood, here is a remix of metric’s monster hospital (mp3)(mstrkrft remix) via let’s sexy fighting. emily haines is super hot for a variety of reasons: she is canadian (canadians are hot this year), she sang with the stills at last year’s sxsw, and she sings for broken social scene.

also, for all of you fans of 80s casio synth and 8-bit nintendo sounds here is the best remix of 2006, beck’s ghettochip malfunction (hell yes) remixed by 8bit (mp3). by the way, princess zelda was my first girlfriend.

the iLife

steve jobs (chris’ boss and father-figure) and apple unveiled their iphone prototype this week. i was amused by this paragraph’s use of the apparently colloquial phrase “face dial”:

The phone is rectangular, and the entire front surface is a touch screen. All of its functions are activated by touch, but when you bring your iPhone to your face, a proximity sensor will turn off the touchscreen so you don't accidentally face dial.

face dialing, as well as face humping, has plagued me for some time. but until now i thought i was the only one. i will probably end up getting one of these phones but it looks so big in the photos that i will most likely end up throwing it in the corner and face dialing a one-nine-hundred number.

when rewind doesn't work

this weekend there was no plan
actual activity occurred nonetheless

a man in his twenties spent seven of his hours
upgrading my car
he wanted to get it right
electronics are difficult, he said
not one to care, i considered rather than asked
why my time was taken by such a confusing situation
it's german, i thought, but you're in america
make your life easier

pottery barn can fit in your hand
scan the whole fucking store if you'd like
after all, i'm getting married
and those candles certainly won't buy themselves
oh, i could take care of it
but what type of surprise is that?

the nas album accompanies my workouts lately
nostalgia plays a part, but the music has its place
less is more
his complicated experiments, my bmi
not that people started disliking either one of us
lean is the new robust

high deterioration

mtv hd has sucked what is left of my free will. i used to be able to get three hundred words out per night. high quality drivel. now i either play sudoku in that station’s glow or curl up into the fetal position and listen to hall & oates, remembering past things. with mtv hd muted in the background. this year is starting out too much like last year. nearly indistinguishable, i would say, other than the warmer temperatures. they are keeping me sane for the moment.

cumulus validation

find yourself a niche
routine breeds results
predictability is admirable and necessary

i've attempted comfort in the past
see: routine scheduling

better options exist
see: remaining dynamic

nothing is unexpected
chaos can be a balance
complacency applies only to a philosophy

in the northeast, it's raining
it's warm
i have calendars and history
neither of which agrees

learning is holding on

january fights back; it always has
there are reasons for remaining passive
personally, i always hold out for march

potential clients worry that i own their stock
conflict of interest, they say
very true; we turn failing companies around

it's cold and we're tired
you're failing and i'm not
i think we all knew these things in the begninning

most of you simply forgot along the way
as if that could be complicated

abstract puppet reference...check

hello.

resurfacing seems to be in my best interests
please be careful to look out for your own
does any of this seem familiar

we're all so hip
connected, even
cool, baby. cool

kermit wants to be blue
dependency can be depressing
i'm green. participating to the fullest

hello.

the last ten days

note: thanks for the outpouring of concern over the lack of posting. i was overwhelmed when i received literally ones of messages inquiring about my health and the chance of acquiring my television if i died.

i’ve had some vivid dreams over the past week and a half. contrarily, the realty in which i lived was slightly dulled. i’m not quite sure where the line is, but i’ll relate the goings-on anyway.

friday was fun in that i got to see chris and his wife in the dreary gloom of a pennsylvania december. though we had a good time it’s clear that i overdosed on chris by sheer proximity in under twenty four hours. my only explanation for this is that i didn’t leave enough buffer/recovery time since my august visit to santa clara. nevertheless, he and taisa arrived in the early evening and i took us downtown to see the warhol museum. this was a good choice for me since i like modern art but i didn’t really inquire as to whether chris would enjoy the excursion. as it turns out we both have an interest in the alchemical properties of urine and its affect on silk screen and paint. after the museum we got some food and then returned home to discuss the pros and cons google’s acquisition of youtube over heinekens.

we also decided to drink some absinthe. after scanning youtube and listening to genesis and unk while dancing eighties-style i believe i passed out watching family guy. my guests spent the night in the denim room of my house, an experience i’m sure they will never forget.

saturday i met up with old friends as is our tradition. brad and his wife came to hang out at my place before we left for town. they gave me some amaretto, which is why i feel bad that all i gave them for the holidays was music advice. in my defense, though, both gifts are valuable and increase one’s quality of life. we watched music videos on demand and listened to neko case and tv on the radio, then we headed out to see some old friends. one from boston, one from chicago, one from philadelphia. all were reminders of a better time (for me at least). i didn’t sleep in my bed that night.

well after one a.m. on sunday i am lying on a couch with the room spinning, but slowly, in non-uniform rotations. mitch hedberg’s voice plays over a soft speaker. i want to laugh, but can only muster crooked crooked smiles.

sunday and monday were spent cleaning bathroom fixtures and acting out family holiday episodes. mostly the same as the past years, these episodes only vary in the tone and delivery of lines, as the script is unchangeable. the cinematographer can be persuaded once in a while, but the lighting is usually only good for one angle.

tuesday was spent doing more cleaning and playing electronic sudoku for hours. the old friends and i went out again, this time to a piano bar constructed from a converted church. i was superliminally coerced into ordering double-liquored drinks by means of the waitresss continually repeating the phrase, “doubles are only a dollar more.”

later back at my house my buddy, his girlfriend, and myself are all in the living room. i play them a record. they eat some triple-distilled peppermint candy. hopefully i was not slurring my words.

wednesday, thursday, and friday are a blur of bad television and sudoku played to a soundtrack of americana (neko case and two gallants). the pull of these sinks was greater than my desire to write, which is why you are hearing about this only now. friday night, however, i put away mind-sharpening games in favor of mind-altering fun. i am not victor ward and i went out into the city to drink expensive drinks and discuss business. we went from a martini bar to a cigar/martini bar to a jazz club. i believe the only thing he drank all night was vodka, which he paid for later. but not before we witnessed a fight in the second place and made friends with a cool lady in the jazz club. since the music was over by the time we got there, there wasn’t much else to do except make conversation and drink vodka. i succeeded in one of those, but ianvw succeeded in both.

from what i can recall, new years eve was a great time. chelsea would be proud of me for making that statement. given the choice, i went big instead of going home. we danced to some sort of music and played pass the bottle. there’s not much else left in my brain and even that is fading fast. word.