weekend in nc, yeah you know me

the making of a good road trip is a very subtle art. you don’t want to take too many people along with you or else logistics become a nightmare. however, too few participants in each others’ presence for too long can lead to feelings of hate and murderous rage. my trip this past weekend to north carolina was an example of a well executed road trip. even though it included a thick fourteen hours of driving in three days, no one was killed, arrested, broken, or maimed.

the drive south was dreary but our spirits were high. it was myself, three other men in their twenties, and a female preacher. i’m pretty sure there is a joke that starts out that way and i think it ends with “…that wasn’t my bellini!”. i made a mix tape for the journey with lots of current stuff on it (if you want a copy you can get one by contacting me). the scenery was about as good as it gets, with multi-colored trees and exotic nude dancing house billboards around every corner. the times when we couldn’t see a car length in any direction because of the rain were magical, like we were floating in a cloud unseen by anyone.

eventually we arrived at our destination, the homestead of i am not victor ward. it was a modern home with high ceilings and loads of stairs. spacious and clean-lined, it was a great place to host a party. friday night we went out to a bar with some horrible cover band. there were quite a few people dressed in costumes. somehow the people i was with found people they knew. i don’t know how that always happens. for whatever reason my old girlfriend’s cousin was there. so when the cover band quit it became a pretty fun night. i talked to a bunch of people who never asked my name. when we got back to the house we turned up the music so loud that they said it was shaking two floors above us and we hung out on the front stoop, just like i used to do when i lived in the south. there’s really nothing like it.

saturday was a long day. after being awoken by distant voices after a few hours of sleep i lay in a stupor for a while and came to the realization that i had twelve hours to kill before the party. i basically spent the day watching “america’s most smartest model” reruns and college football and by the end had had just about enough of men in tight pants (although is can you ever have too much?). as a break during the middle of the day my friends and i took a tour of the city. we ate some north carolina barbeque at a biker bar. later on the box social began and i made the playlist for the first floor of the house. people trickled in during the early going, glanced at me huddled over the laptop, corona light in hand, and passed by. the party started so early that by ten o’clock i was already fuzzy. i kept asking people who they were supposed to be even if they weren’t in costume. i met some nice young ladies and fellows. a couple friends of mine from high school showed up and we talked for a while. later in the night we sang songs of our youth in drunken disharmony. after about eleven hours of party, i finally passed out.

the drive back was hard to bear because of the total of 6 hours of sleep in two days. but i’d do it again, if only to see the looks on everyone’s faces when i claimed, without hint of sarcasm, that “yes, r.kelly is on the playlist. and please don’t touch the laptop.” congratulations to i am not victor whose party was definitely victor-esque.

impatience

i am a patient person. not only is that a becoming quality but it allows for a less stressful life, which is important since anti-aging cream has its limits. the problem with patience is that it can slowly bleed out ambition until it is pale and weak. do i need less patience? is it poor form for me to complain about the state of things? do i even care to be remembered? i am not sure. but i think i will try something new.

some impatient music: "hummer" by foals (via product shop nyc)

la lanne

i bought some v8 fusion this week because it was half price. i can’t stand v8 regular, but i like the word “fusion”. i also like “synergy”. the fusion was pretty good for something containing vegetable juice, but it made me think of something one of my heroes jack la lanne once said: “if it tastes good, spit it out." that is one of the rules i live by, along with “never start a land war in asia.” so i may not end up finishing all six gallons of the fusion. if, by some chance, jack la lanne is not one of your heroes then check out these facts from wikipedia:

He designed the first leg extension machines, pulley machines using cables, and weight selectors which are now standard in the fitness industry. He was the original inventor of the Smith machine

LaLanne admits that as a child he was addicted to sugar and junk foods. He was very troubled and prone to rages, which led to his attempting to burn down his family's house, as well as chasing his brother with an axe.

1954 (age 40): Jack swam the entire length of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco

1956 (age 42): Jack set a world record of 1,033 push ups in 23 minutes on You Asked for It, a television program with Art Baker

negatory

it is a seventy-seven degree (f) day in mid october. my jack-o-lantern is wilting quickly and i don’t even mind. he will look scarier with concavity by hallow’s eve. life is dreamy at this point in autumn. i am traversing south in a week and a half for a housewarming party. i have a number of projects in the works, not the least of which is self-actualization. i hope to be there by early two thousand eight.

soundtrack for this post how deep is your love by the bird and the bee

halloween heat

…however, the main issue is temperature. it has dropped twelve degrees (c) in midday temperature from monday to thursday. this is an unacceptable way to end my indian summer. i can now use that term in a politically conscious way since i have been to india in the summer. of course, that was nothing like this. we have real Indian summers in the states. during autumn, of course. i had decided to give the halloween kids sparklers like those used on independence day since the weather was july-like. now, however, i will have to resort to something with high-fructose corn syrup in it. i don’t like fattening americas sons and daughters. i think i was being far more responsible with the fireworks idea.

fragments of the weekend

saturday night. discussing the role of genetics in calf size. someone spins ghostland observatory. well, i don’t come from the city, i came here on the train. is the south really the south? can a city further north be more southern? go to sleep in a chair, wake up in a different chair. sunday morning, early because of the tailgate. drinking mimosas in the sun. the game is an anti-climax. getting ready to start at square one again.

matt pond speaks what is on everyone's mind

no, matt pond does not ask why more people aren’t doing “hip hop abs” (from the info-mercial – that shit works, dude). he has apparently been fielding a lot of complaints from fans about the direction of his great mppa project. specifically, they seem to be the same points i was making a couple months ago when i first heard some tracks off the new album, last light. these points go something like, “why did you ditch the ‘chamber’ part of chamber pop?” and, “strings are the things, man. where’s the cello?”. i really like the guy, and i totally agree with his statement. he can do whatever he wants, and thoughts get stale sometimes. however, i maintain that regardless of the instrumentation, the product is just not having the same effect on me. the new album is good, but not emblems good or green fury good in my opinion. here is how matt addresses this (from his band's blog):

Years ago, I thought it could be worthwhile to stick strings into
writing music. Not relegated to fluttery washed out pads -- by making
them an integral part. The intent was for them to be as important as
anything else.

And there were people like Jim Hostetter and Eve Miller... They
pushed. We fought. In the right ways. And we somehow came up with
albums we all agreed upon.

But people drift. And so do ideas. (Man, is it beautiful -- miniature
deaths inside life. Where nobody dies...I still speak to Jim. I still
speak to Eve)

Speaking is all we need anymore. Because. What we did then is not what
we're doing now.

Now I'm playing with a group of people I'd trust until the edges -- to
where we can see our dust raise and roll down the sides. Losing
control on the gravel until slipping and flying through the darkness.
The trust to apply a tourniquet around my head. (DO IT!) To stop the
flow of misinformed mumbled criticisms (A bloody brook will always
babble badly). About who we are and what we're supposed to be doing.

minus the bear: round six

minus the bear was in town saturday night with subtle (i’d never heard of them either). they don’t fit into any descriptive category so i’ll just say they mix hip-hop with cello, drum machines, recorders, saxophones, percussion, guitar, bass, harmonica, and plastic forks. the first thing i noticed about them was the worst thing about their sound: the spoken-word (rap) vocals. well, that and their lead rapper/singer adam drucker appeared to be less than sane (in a good way). but everything else got better from there, and in a few instrumental/singing parts i really thought the music was great. i'm still unsure but i left with a good feeling about them.

m.t.b. was outstanding as usual, the only noticeable difference being jake’s longer hair. however, my relative ambivalence toward their new album broke up the pure joy of the occasion. they did play some old classics as well as about half of the new album, though, and i had a great friend with me who enjoyed the moment as much as i did. plus i met two new friends, so it was one of the better shows in recent memory. pirates say yarrr!