smurfette is hot

as you are probably aware, this blog's official stance on smurfs is one of sincere, wide-eyed admiration. we love the little androgynous guys (and the one hot blonde counterfeit). so i try to pass on any news of them when it comes my way. from new zealand:

Two blue smurfs were left with red faces on Saturday night after they were arrested by police for stealing a trampoline.

Senior Sergeant Brian Benn told NZPA two drunk 19 year olds, "dressed as smurfs", were seen carrying the trampoline along Richardson Street, Dunedin about 1am.

Smurfs are fictional small creatures who featured in the 1980s television series The Smurfs.

by the way, don't believe that last statement. smurfs have never been proven not to exist. and i think they may be mentioned in the bible.

kinda faded

this morning i realized just how little the years have aged me. my second thought upon awakening was, ‘i can’t believe it’s finally happening.’ my first thought was ‘whatever happened to soul decision?’

while some contemplate knot tying i do research on how to win board games while watching breakfast at tiffany’s on amc for the tenth time. while others live with their wives in california i live with ellis and sallinger in anyburb, u.s.a. i had a discussion last night about turning twenty nine. i feel like that is my cutoff, and i will almost certainly panic in late 2009. not because i lack a wife or maturity, but because i will feel too old. and because i will finally realize that soul decision has broken up.

ugh

this terrific article from cnn has everything i look for: brevity, humor, and pointlessness. here’s an excerpt:

KFYE-FM hasn't budged from the Fresno-area dial, but it's about as far as you can get from the Christian music, sermons and Bible stories it was broadcasting until about a week ago. Now it calls itself "Porn Radio" -- "all sex radio, all the time," with a suggestion that people under 21 not listen. Songs with little in common except suggestive titles and lyrics fill the playlist, including "Why Don't We Do It in the Road" by The Beatles, "Sexual Healing" by Marvin Gaye and "Nasty" by Janet Jackson. Tamer songs are heated up by adding recorded moans and groans.

The change, made after the station was sold this month, was met with several non-sexual groans from some residents.

the non-sexual groan is actually the majority response to this blog, according to a recent poll. but don’t worry if you get turned on reading this text. i think a lot of people were lying.

keep dreaming

there is nothing american about a hot dog. take representation as far as you would like, and you still come to the same conclusion. obese fans at a cubs game, wife beating nebraskans on the fourth of july, yes, i understand your reasoning for why the lines had a chance to connect. why simplicity allows you to be as cynical as your limited resources can comprehend.

now understand this. we are surrounded by an idea. a practical implementation of a single glimmer of hope: that the act of being better than everyone, simply being the best at anything, is worth reward. we derive our worst case /best case scenarios from this, not because we know that anything is possible (because you cannot become whatever you choose to be) but rather because we calculate our chances to destroy those very same scenarios from another mind. to mold them as negatively as possible, in hopes that our own abilities may fill the void. sometimes, it happens. nobody owes you anything.

dead air

subtle are the advances that certain thoughts make in one’s head. barely noticeable until the fragments become coherent paragraphs. this is what some call a moment of clarity. some people spend their lives counting the hours in between these events, and i am not sure this is at all a waste. the conscious mind is strong, but subconscious thoughts may prove greater still. imagine how much better this paragraph would have been if i hadn’t thought about it first. or if someone else had written it.

heat wave

this is a nice summer read, in addition to being on topic with my post. according to media outlets it is hot outside. so i decided to do a little experiment…

i’ve spent the last few days without air conditioning in my house. by choice. normally i don’t’ use it much considering my ideal temperature is around 80F, but i’ll turn it on when the thermostat gets above 84 or the humidity reaches a north carolina-like 110 percent. recently i stopped cooling my house artificially (note--ice cube trays sprinkled about the house are naturally occurring) to see what would happen.

the most immediate consequence was a tendency to sweat most of every hour, followed by the tendency to put on tennis shorts and a headband (and pretend to serve every once in a while). i discovered the best use yet for rolling stone -- as a crude, inaccurate fan. also, drinking in the heat is not as fun as drinking in the sun, one of my most favorite pastimes. the sun increases your buzz and tan, while heat just makes you ill. as the temperature got to a humid 86 (its peak) i was on the verge of madness. not even the cosby show could calm my anxiety, and i’d begun alternating ice and towels over my skin. i made it through the night by humming genesis songs repeatedly and making synth drum sounds at appropriate times.

earning and taking

people are generally upset with air attacks. people don't like to be aimed at. people think, hey, what ever happened to life being predictable? what ever happened to consistent improvement?

this is how cnn depicts life. they don't talk about reasons, or desires. nobody comes out and says, hey, war is what prepares me for worse. starving is what lowers others' expectations of me. if i get out now, will they still want to interview me? no, leave me here.

most people want to feel entitled. they want air attacks. they want to be aimed at. they think, now i deserve it. now, give me what you have, because i've earned it. destruction improves both ends of the socio-economic spectrum. unless you live in china.

it's july, and i bend priorities

friday in philadelphia:

drinks at tonic, because the music was supposed to be better than it was. nobody voluntarily listens to house at 8pm, but apparently there are those that are willing to force the issue. we were there with a friend of mine, and a boyfriend of hers. this one was visiting from vienna, and possesses an occupation loosely describing a manner of time spent, but not so directly related to any manner of revenue generating professional activity. the austrian, as i referred him throughout the night, has spent ten of the last ten years in a state of constant travel-based leisure (there were two semesters at duke in the time period, which i knew to explain his relationship to my friend...having a mother on the un's board of atomic energy is apparently worth 24 credits at a respected american school...will i use this rate in the future?) . because i could not decide between jealousy and boredom over this fact, i moved the conversation to the subject of new york traffic. automobile patterns of eastern europe were widely ignored, due to a palpable level of unimportance surrounding the issue.

dinner at buddakan, which has become disturbingly routine of late. reservations at 10 were promptly ignored until 10:15, which furthered my desire to stay away for the foreseeable future. we were placed in the center of the ground level, which made up for certain transgressions. to the left sat two men with shoulder length hair, sternum length beards, and the recognizable attire of two parts of a well-known country band now more commonly described by their artistic output of 2 decades past. i have no idea what their band is called. a woman with impeccable facial structure sat with them, and caused me to notice: she was openly nursing a child at the table of one of the city's most desirable dinner locations. how many albums sold does it take to make this ok? will i use this rate in the future? not knowing how to react, we moved the conversation to the subject of property costs in the northeast. nobody had an excuse for boston. the hungarian wine chosen by the austrian was nothing short of tart in taste. this seemed like an unfortunate way to spend 2 hours and a day laborer's paycheck.

a saturday invitation to a client's beach house had me pushing for a cab ride back to my girlfriend's apartment. i was thinking of the morning. the girls suggested a club, hinted at a lounge, and generally wasted an undisclosed number of minutes in finalizing an opinion. none of this was discussed at dinner, because of the breast in full view and my discomfort regarding the wine. the girls walked us directly through the waiting lines of three venues, which the austrian and i agreed upon as being a positive thing. in no case was the girls' desired hit track being played, and while i did not know the song that we were in search of, two things were certain: one, that the odds were not fantastic of this event occurring at any point during the quest, and two, that there was a late-night establishment within walking distance that would have the album.

the cab had a cd player, which was a pleasant surprise. i've taken to making decisions for other people, and this is another example of why. in bed by 3, up by 8, and passed out on the sand by noon. 15 dollars spent for an extra two hours of sun. will i use this rate in the future?

futility

“why don’t you come hang out?”
“because the more time i spend with you the harder it is to go back to normal.”
“so don’t go back to normal.”
“i have to go back.”
“why?”
“because that’s where the rest of my life will be.”
“it doesn’t have to.”
“maybe not now, but it’ll end up there. it always does.”
“at some point there is no more later. you just have to do what you want now.”
“that’s not how i work.”
“i need some scotch.”

ticky-tacky boxes

i rented the first disc of weeds’ first season last night and i’m already hooked. er, as i am a man of many vices but no addictions let’s just say that i’m eagerly awaiting the next half-hour, not jonesing for it. either way the first four episodes were terrific, blending good storylines with good dialogue inside a bleak, nihilistic shell. the show is basically desperate housewives only good. oh, the materialism, gossip, and despair! ellis would be proud of this series. i’ve always had a fascination with the decay of the upper class, and this satisfies me on a spiritual level. even the show’s theme song during the credits is great. it’s that song that uses malvina reynolds’ poem “little boxes”. i watched the credits five times yesterday before i even saw the first episode. this is what’s been in my head all day:

Little boxes on the hill side, little boxes made of ticky-tacky.
Little boxes, little boxes, little boxes all the same.
There’s a green one and a pink one and a blue one and a yellow one,
And they’re all made out of ticky-tacky, and they all look just the same.
And the people in the houses all go to the university
Where they all get put in boxes, little boxes, all the same.
And there’s doctors and there’s lawyers, and there’s business executives
And they’re all made out of ticky-tacky and they all look just the same.

compressing automobiles

humidity. i don't get it. i mean, i get it, but what...who...well, i suppose that i understand now.

just drive through it. it's a form of efficient learning.

it's not a fish that you can catch

i found this article from new york magazine both entertaining and thematically relevant. in an attempt to let you glance inside my head, i’ll share my thoughts on some of these happiness-increasing strategies.

Decide where to go to college by picking two decent schools and flipping a coin. The relatively unexamined life is worth living. Barry Schwartz’s The Paradox of Choice documents numerous studies in which thinking too hard about multiple choices leads people to preemptively regret the options they’re going to miss out on. This triggers a stress reaction that tends to focus narrowly on random variables—producing unwise decisions, paralysis, and superfluous law degrees. Those who seize the first option that meets their standards (which don’t have to be low, just defined) are happier

i used average temperature, but you get the idea.

Don’t go to law school.
Lawyers are 3.6 times more likely to be depressed than members of other professions…

enough said.

Fire your therapist if he so much as mentions your childhood. Contra Freud and pro common sense, much of Authentic Happiness author Martin Seligman’s research suggests that rehashing events that enraged you long ago tends to produce depression rather than sweet closure and relief.

this is just common sense. don’t think about things that make you angry or sad unless you have a compelling reason.

On a day-to-day basis, caring for children creates roughly the same level of satisfaction as washing the dishes. In fact, surveys of parents invariably find a clear dip in happiness after the Blessed Miracle of Childbirth, which continues unabated for twenty years—bottoming out during adolescence—and only returns to pre-birth levels when the child finally leaves home

i like washing the dishes, but something tells me that is where this analogy ends.

avoid any bar named after an Irish person

now that’s just silly.

virtual threesome

slashdot has found its way onto google's personalized homepage option list. what does this mean? well, my friend, absolutely nothing. although...

i just happen to estimate that over the last few years, my personal web browsers have hit these two sites with more frequency than any others. this new development consequently conjures up an image of venn diagrams from the fifth grade. or that time i visited the u of kentucky during sophomore year, and my favorite two brunettes allowed me to explore with them. yeah, it's kind of like that.

the view from inside

it has occurred to me, though not as often as one may be inclined to assume, that a certain level of perception management is the simple and efficient solution to influencing levels of personal enjoyment. you see, i am mostly in favor of writing off, if you will, the majority of the world's population that has the scheduled occupation of connecting with me on one level or another. i am cynical, i am skeptical, and many times i simply despise the available offerings of those around me. extended to specific locations, events, and other such entities of interaction, i have come to expect very little of many connection strings containing my life as a node.

with that said, i return to my initial statement. because, through all of the disappointments that come from doing anything, there also exists a subset of emotions that drive me to want more from everything. i spent the past weekend with the ocean. i also hate most of what there is to know about new jersey. restrictions brought these two elements to a meeting point, however, and what i needed to know about the situation was this; that i need the ocean, in spite of the sacrifices necessary to bring it to me, and me to it. i need to feel certain things, at certain times, and this comes as a desire above and beyond the capabilities of limitation imposed by my deepest disappointments in the world around me. understand this, because it changes things. i am justified by it (as if justification were necessary). thank you, in advance.

descriptive

in the event that i die tomorrow i can at least be happy about the scene from my patio during the afternoon hours today. as i listened to agaetis byrjun i lay on a reclining chair. the sun, directly above me, cast golden light and spots across my eyes. the warmth of the concrete on my feet and the faint waxing and waning of traffic in the distance gave the impression of a summer day on the coastline, waves foaming and dying. as sigur ros played electric guitar with a bow a young doe came out of the trees and stood for at least a minute, catching my eye once. she knew what i was thinking. why should i ever be afraid in the suburbs?
on second thought, i can’t die tomorrow. i promised baby that we’d go dancin’ tomorrow night. she said it was cold out there, and i replied that it was warm in bed. they can dance; we’ll watch mtv instead.

red eyes

so perhaps it has been longer than i had originally realized. my apologies, of course, but european hotels make getting online much more difficult than it should be. and i'm speaking in absolutes. regardless, i am back to the homeland of the world cup's least attractive step-child, and tomorrow i'll even set foot on last week's flooded victim, also known as the east coast.

what i would be terribly interested in, if at all possible, is a decent vacation. vacation, in this case, should mostly be defined in an inverse comparison with the amount of time spent in front of any of the computing devices that i own. my recent international excursions, by the way, do not fit this category in any way.

subjects that will drive the content of my upcoming posts include north korea, the world cup, english women, ayn rand, mtv, and the funerals of billionare theives. for now, i'm just happy to have a wireless connection without a firewall.

the fight over the regulation of the web is this century's cold war...shiiiiiit daddy, even the russians know that.

va-ca

the last four days have been great. just lazy, hot, and damp – much like myself. i’ve seen so many temporary faces, all of whom will be gone very soon. i feel like those kinds of encounters make for the best vacations, although i could deal with seeing a lot more of one of those people during real life. but you can’t fight city hall.

i made real margaritas on monday using 1800, cointreau, and lime juice. these things are quite strong being that eighty four per cent of them are eighty proof liquor. they are good for warm drinking since the sun enhances the effects of tequila.

i can only assume that i am not victor ward has finally taken his vows to become a quaker and can no longer post on phlox without being cast down to hell. therefore i will take over as the condescending pessimist as well as my normal duties of witty observer/philosopher.

the hampton hills

jason is a fortunate dude. He gets to use the term “gnarly” and have the hot lauren keep wanting him after he plays the asshole character on both her shows. And he gets a set of golf clubs from lauren on his birthday. she’s either the perfect girl or really wealthy. maybe a little of columns a and b. the hills also played a feist song on the last episode. so that’s respectable. i wonder how my life would be different if my name was jason or i used less italics.

i won't bore you with the details baby

i will be off for the early part of next week, celebrating independence from britain/my parents. here are a few of my ideas for spending that time:

• listen to entire george michael’s greatest hits double album without stopping
  
• starting at noon, have one drink per hour for twelve hours. then anything goes.
  
• bring a change of clothes and live at the gym for a day.(they have music videos and plasma t.v.s) .
  
• hang out at a friend’s pool with PBR, and don’t drink but rather pour out can after can of it after i remember that i have standards. then get some whiskey.
  

rubber plants

i have a rubber plant at work. it’s leaves are sleek and glossy and their color is marriage of green and burgundy. lately the leaves have been falling off at a disturbing rate. i’ll grant that i lack in some areas of care giving, but it never wants for water and it seems happy on our weekly walks. so i wonder if this is a metaphor for life, that the prettiest things fade the fastest, or a warning about my ability as a caregiver. only the future blessed with either premature wrinkles or children that are falling apart will tell.

g-dub's d.c.

i spent the long weekend in d-of-c visiting a friend. i love it there in the summer. while some dislike the palpable humidity, i have become fond of it (and partially immune thanks to living in north carolina for some time). there is so much to do at night, and the city is made up more of residential buildings than commercial, which makes it very quaint and unimposing. i saw david bazan at the black cat on friday night. i'm not a big pedro the lion fan, but he played well using just his voice and a guitar. i really liked the venue (i'd never been to the black cat before). it reminded me of a rich man's club laga (see deceased pittsburgh venues), with an upstairs, and comparable dimensions.

saturday we pre partied at ana's friend brent's condo in the "u" district. it was pretty much a smaller version of paul allen's apartment, which is to say it evoked a jealous reaction from me when i saw it. he pays more in rent than i do in mortgage each month. then we went out to this great bar that looks seedy from the outside but is kind of hipster inside. there were four d.j.s spinning vinyl and it was so good that it seemed like the playlist was coming from my own subconsious. a mixture of white-kid dance/funk and nineties and eighties tracks, the artists included lcd soundsystem, le tigre, franz ferdinand, and soul coughing. just imagine my delight with those sounds in my ears, whiskey in my hands, and no obligations.

lost in text

i’ve started reading camille, perhaps the best love story of all time. the fact that it is about a lady of questionable morals should not surprise you, but that i am relishing dumas fils’ moral judgement might. i think this can be explained by my recent (re)reading of the great gatsby and glamorama. the contrast is beautiful and simple. life has more meaning from the right, and letting yourself be convinced that morality exists and is meaningful is like remembering back to when you believed in magic or santa claus.

the society section

inspired by this prettier than napoleon post, i wonder whether it is selfish or immoral or both to never have children by choice, setting aside what your higher powers command you to do. i’m of the mind that i owe a debt to society for sacrifices that were made on my behalf over the years by my parents, teachers, and many other unnamed persons. even my nihilist contemporaries can understand wanting to settle a debt even if the outcome is meaningless. but i feel like this does not have to be done by procreation, but rather by any means of helping society (most likely those younger than you). barring god’s finger wagging i don’t think that leading a childless life is wrong.

review review

only once or twice a year (if you satisfy the attractive lady luck with an ever growing set of superstition rituals) do you have the perfect weather / dreamy band combination that makes you reconsider your nihilist attitude. that sort of thing happened last night at mr smalls theater, and so early in the season no less. rogue wave and the stills played for a surprisingly small crowd that was reverently quiet with occasional bursts of static electricity. zach rogue and company played their changing-dynamic angel rock well, and the pretty vocals mellowed the space behind the eyes. although they didn’t perform “eyes”, they played mostly newer material including the haunting “publish my love”. after that the canadians (the stills) increased the volume slightly for their set of half old / half new songs. it was a great surprise to hear so many of the older (and in my correct opinion better) tracks from logic… which they didn’t play at south by southwest because of a shortened set. the highlights were “lola”, “changes are no good”, “helicopter”, and the most appreciated song of the night, “yesterday never tomorrow”. even after the show the temperature was in the high sixties and it felt like time hadn’t progressed at all. driving home at eleven with all the windows down in pittsburgh is something you never get used to or tired of.

a song for the suburban adventurer

think about driving down a highway in the middle of summer. the air is hot and dry and the wind whips through the quartet of gaping windows. the doobie brothers’ “listen to the music” blares, but you only hear patches of trebly sounds through the wind. mile after mile of flat farmland come and go. the only event of any significance occurs when you wipe the hair from your brow at each horizon. the future is unknown, your rearview mirror is broken, and you shift positions slightly as “dixieland”’s initial notes sink into your skull.

why i fear for the future

what i need is to have a long conversation with someone. like, an hour long. then maybe my headache will go away. it seems to be made worse by the phrases dave matthews and working with children. it is made temporarily better by working out and alcohol. but the cure still eludes me.

washington, george

this clip is the funniest thing since colbert’s press secretary speech. it combines absurdity, intelligence, british children, and profanity in the ideal 40/40/5/15 comedic proportion. this formula has been proven by rigorous testing,

wait, i meant paper. no, no, rock.

finally. progress in the american legal system.

and to think...all of those wasted years of mine, spent pushing for the legalization of caning. a little RPS truly does go a long way.

i should mention, however, that i once viewed a televised rock-paper-scissors event. perhaps it was a championship of some sort. probably the world. yes, it was the world championship. i'm sure of it. ok, a quick search yielded a series of results that are reported like so. regardless, there did (and probably still does) exist a man whose winning percentage was so statistically impossible, so dominant from a mathematical-to-psychological perspective, that he won the tournament nearly every year. with the new and inevitable shift to this sort of conflict resolution, what kind of power will a man like this have in the new america? the ability to harness perceived chance. i'll go out on a limb and say that i'll need a friend like that. and that i can give up my practice of canoodling with otherwise worthless columbia law students. if only those pretentious bitches knew...

teen age hope

omg. arianne caoili, the nineteen year old australian chess phenom, is not only hot (pic in article) but is also inspiring fisticuffs like a world champion. aside from using the possessive case instead of the plural case on occasion she may just be the perfect girl:

Caoili, 19, has listed her likes on her website as: "Funny stories, The Cream, arguing, getting up to no good, shopping, quotes, tea, Pink Floyd album covers, dancing (all forms), chocolate, blitz, theatre, Karpov's games, Oreo's, black and dry humour, singing, good music, gravity (without it we're doomed), sunsets, sunrises, fine food (and fine boys), stars, moons, water, Edward Norton and Johnny Depp, grace, green lights, cooking, pina colada's, vodka, red wine, Kahlua, dwarfs and the odd Cuban cigar.

now i don't know what "the cream" is, but i love water and dwarves!

mao once played dodgeball

perhaps you've heard of the chinese baby, jie-jie, born with three arms. from the most recent update on this story comes one of the more bizarre sentences in recent memory, in the category of non-fiction:

"Jie-jie cried when either of his left arms was touched, but smiled and responded normally to other stimuli, the reports said."

clearly the chinese are on to something here. or at least they were, until removing the child's clear dodgeball advantage, demoting him back to the same level as everyone else. oh communism...that's so you.

comforted by the recognizable

sitting in my living room...it's been a while since i've been around.

i have american psycho on the lcd. it feels right, and i realize that i may have missed this sensation in past weeks. i find myself wondering, in my apartment, what would the soundtrack be composed of? immediately confronted by the notion that it doesn't matter, that people don't understand, and wouldn't, i drop the thought. where were you on the night that paul allen disappeared? people pass up observing things that require perception.

for the love of...

regarding the duke lacrosse situation:

A university investigation also found a history of disciplinary problems involving team members, including underage drinking and public urination.

was anyone else expecting the words "assault" or maybe "rape" instead of "drinking" and "urination" there? listen, if those other things make a team or individual "troubled" then i guess i need to begin worrying about myself immediately, as my "troubled" past treads dangerously close to the lax-ies'. it's a wonder that i've managed to graduate, find non-government employment, keep off food stamps, stay out of jail, and use many fewer cliches and double speak than the duke executives. i must be the anomaly.

fence theory

it seems to me that, aside from physical differences (the vain must qualify this immediately), there are two types of people. one type values loyalty and the other type values honesty. as complex as humans are they can certainly value both at the same time, but never equally. this distinction allows one to make certain generalizations about a person that come in handy whether trying to befriend them, swindle them, or just drink with them. and you know my ugly fondness for generalizations.

testosterone-free action

the new batwoman is a lesbian.

i didn't know there was an old batwoman.

ultimately, that seems fair.

thursday

at the gym going through my cardio routine i look with disgust over at the three hundred pound man on the recumbent bike humming/mumbling along to the new rob thomas video. i can’t tell whether he thinks no one can hear him or that he just doesn’t care. as the song progresses my ire follows a similar linear curve until i can no longer stand it and make the motion of putting on fake headphones. i then proceed to close my eyes and hum along to s.w.v.’s “i’m so into you” --to the bewilderment of the middle aged lady on the stairmaster to my right-- until the next video shuts him up. it is robert palmer’s “i didn’t mean to turn you on”, whose video is a shoddy reproduction of his “addicted to love” classic. the song itself, however, is sheer genius. this is what my life is like.

tyler vs. she-ra

though widespread fight clubs are over six years old now, i think there is still a tri-monthly quota for articles about this “savage” trend among modern day men. this article reads more like a satire, due to genius/stupid statements like this:

"Real-life fight clubs are the male version of the girls who cut themselves," he said. "All day long these guys think they're the captains of the universe, technical wizards. They're brilliant but empty."

now, i understand “brilliant but empty” quite well, but i think the author was going for “masters”, rather than “captains” of the universe. what the hell is a captain of the universe anyway? someone ranked below major but above lieutenant on the scale of everything in the physical world? we all know what a master of the universe is. i wanted to be one when i was little. but, not counting 2003, you don’t see me trying to ride tigers and panthers and buying a castle and naming it “greyskull”.

smile

give me a backyard where the sun shines directly in mid afternoon. give me bottle after bottle of beer so light and gay that it almost tastes like seltzer water. give me a hideous neon blue tri-fold beach chair with sand from last august still holding its ground like aging freckles. give me skin that soaks the sun like a car sponge and hair that longs to be lighter. give me these things, o great fate, and i’ll give you a happy young man.

rally

you know the feeling you get when you’ve met someone that you really like and have an idea that they like you too? i’m getting that feeling right now from phoenix’s it’s never been like that. the first few tracks have been so good that i just want to stop time and live here for a while. we’ve established a frighteningly solid background in a short time and yet there is still mystery in the form of the many songs un-listened to. i dare say this album could approach emblems territory, and that album was the only one i’ve ever considered settling down with (we broke off the engagement but it still weighs heavy on my heart).

erasing high school, one album at a time

so tom delonge has a new band. my take is this...possibly the best band website ever created, which leads me to a realization. that this is the largest website-to-music differential in the history of human effort.

regardless of delonge's rambling over the significance of this project, angels and airwaves is about as much of a musical stretch for its members as bano's weekly decision to release a power ballad. angels is blink, it's boxcar, it's just tom whining. again. and i don't get it. tom's voice through blink used to be a beach staple for me, a perfect solution to a drive home from high school baseball practice, a college dorm room favorite. i don't know what i expected on tuesday, but i feel cheated. disappointed, certainly, but personally cheated as well. i'm no longer at a point in my musical journey where i rely on a particular genre for sustainability...but that does not change my longing for nostalgic reassurance. i need people like tom delonge to choose. be great, or go away. seriously though, incredible website. apparently 20 million blink records buys you a decent dev team.

sampling not stealing

i never saw a sober writer,
i never hope to see one;
but i can tell you anyhow,
i’d rather see than be one.

at least in may.

when people choose to die

from the nation's western coast, where the clips-suns game is actually being played at a watchable hour (assuming you're in to that sort of thing)...
---
nagan was re-elected...closer to my residence, the people of new york have not, to my knowledge, ordered a new series of planes to forcibly remove iconic buildings from the skyline. this is because they value their lives, at least to the extent of not voting for another shot at death. well done, new orleans, on not sharing that particular sentiment.

i've made a few visits to the state of louisiana over the last few weeks, and will continue to do so over the course of the summer. i've had mahi with the secretary of transportation, filet with the head of the senate's budget committee, and gumbo with a street vendor in baton rouge...ain't a one of them thought that ole' nagan had a chance, and something led me to agree. now we're all confused.

you don't have to care about places like new orleans to allow this to interest you...these people voted, by a majority, to die. to end their lives and the lives of their families, their pets, and their coke...because while they managed to stay afloat the last time, we'll see what happens when the food runs out, the schools shut down, and the rain comes anyway. fuckin' nagan, man. remember when marion barry seemed like a mistake?

one on one

i’ve been into daryl hall and john oates recently. did you know that hall calls their masterpiece “she’s gone” the best song he and john ever wrote together? i find the motown sound blends well with daryl’s lovelorn voice. this coinciding with my viewing of cherish last night made for a pretty cool dream soundtrack. you know that part in “maneater” at 4:01 where daryl goes “thewomaniswildoooh” in one breath? yeah, that’s cool.

itunes likes jared too

music played while i sit in my office is selected at random. or as close to random as apple's flawed algorightm allows.

there are a number of reasons for my preference of computer generated playlists while i stare at one of the three screens sitting on my desk. mostly, there are other times when i must make such choices on my own. the car for one, but also at the gym. moments when my living room is filled with guests, or my bed is more than soley occupied, not to mention the importance of supplementing a vacation with the correct soundtrack. to mix genres or to segment the time into sound-driven screenplays? will they understand what they hear? is that important? to me, yes, but more generally? should generalities play a role in this?

i need iTunes in the office. currently selected --> 30 seconds to mars - a beautiful lie - the kill (3:51). i consider jared leto to be in the top ten, when considering artists worth giving my time to. this music isn't perfect, but it has become a part of the collection that i hesitate to share with others. i listen to 30 seconds alone. jared's also in fight club, requiem, american psycho...he's paul fucking allen, for christ's sake. beatuiful, and willing to front this niche band nonetheless. witness the action-based balance that i haven't reached yet. having it, risking it, reaping the benefits of being vulnerable. this is why it's important to be beautiful. it's why these steps become options. otherwise, for most people, they're stuck looking, searching, disappointed. soon, i'll be able to jump because i know that i never have to land. this is a good realization to come to on a friday, n'est ce pas?

makeovers

you may notice some cosmetic changes to this site in the near future. fear not, though, as the same droll content will continue to appear regularly. and as this is a site for the people i would like to solicit any comments you have about new color schemes, how crappy the current template is, makeovers, or eyeliner. any suggestions on how to make the blog as pretty as its words are also welcome.

by the way, the new phlox loves arthur logo/header has been trademarked already, fools. and you owe me five cents every time you say this blog's name out loud. you're on the honor system.

98 degrees from ideal

Dear Nick Lachey,

In response to our role in the breakup of your marriage, please accept unlimited audio and video air time for the release of your next eight singles (not based on actual content evaluation). We do understand that both you and the blonde agreed, in advance, to the premise of the show (any one member of the participating parties' inability to understand the complexities of legal agreements, notwithstanding). However, the gentlemen at Linkin Park have fooled us with a side project that we have also agreed to keep on constant loop, and let's not kid ourselves...Shakira is about ten pounds heavier than the bio relates. Officially, we have nothing to air. So please, continue to financially benefit from our inability to produce quality programming for the teens of today, continuing to disappoint the teens of yesterday in the process. For you, Mr. Lachey, life is better than it seems. This offer is valid up to but not including the moment that JT's new movie hits the box office, Ja Rule releases a duet with Keith Urban, and/or we begin to broadcast in HD.

Regards,

MTV

every little step

every so often there comes a time when you recognize that you are hearing the best version of a particular song ever played. that unlikely event happened twice last night at the glen phillips show. for the tweens out there, glen fronted a righteous nineties alt band called toad the wet sprocket, and he has one of the most distinctive, pretty voices around. lightning struck first during the opening act, a singer/songwriter named jonathan kingham. although both rebecca and i agreed that his music was generic and college-y, he revealed a deftness at performing rhythm and blues. no joke, he covered bobby brown’s “every little step” to the delight of both myself and the rest of the audience. i can say with some certainty that it was better than any version bobby recorded, and i’m fairly sure i’ll never hear it played better in my lifetime. after jonathan it was on to glen. he played a lot of his solo stuff to the older crowd, but my favorite parts were the old toad songs. he played “all i want”, “walk on the ocean”, and at rebecca’s request, “nightingale song”. that song is great all by itself, but something about it last night etched into my memory. it was neary perfect. the best shows are the ones that entrance you so that forget that you’re holding two empty bottles for the longest time.

victor vs. the palmettos

i spent the weekend in charleston. nobody does much of anything in charleston, and while i find myself continually labeling such activity as unacceptable, the undeniably positive impact of such visits tends to suggest otherwise.

this is not something that bothers me, at least from a perspective of self-denial/hypocrisy versus jealousy/longing. rather, it makes me feel as though i work too hard, live much too far from the beach, and needlessly limit my access to first-class seafood. the realization of such things is more catalytic than crushing, more comforting than discouraging. i bought driving loafers from j crew, and a few polos from lacoste...this, i thought, was a step in the right direction. a little less black and white in my appearance, a little less time spent reading without a natural breeze to aid in turning the pages. these are things that i'm considering, as may of 2006 continues to progress.

don't ask me to make more significant motions towards this ideal that i speak of...because i don't truly believe in it. it's just something to do for the moment, which allows me to avoid the boredom of reverting to more of the same. i don't think that the people of charleston have it figured out, but i'm terribly concerned that i am also without an answer. what i will do is continue to include alcohol and music in each aspect of my life. i find music to be more repeatably enjoyed than print, and alcohol to be limitless in potential...essentially, i have decided to safeguard myself within a world of continually increasing disappointments from those around me. i think this is the secret to why doing so very little works so very well...like the people of charleston, the level of general disappointment decreases significantly when you haven't worked so hard as to achieve anything. i like that. yeah, i need to work less.

gene bias

gattica is finally here. it was only a matter of time. i think given the choice i’d take jude law’s perfection over ethan hawke’s passion and heart. but i’m not sure that i’ll have to worry about this decision in the future. unless, that is, i meet uma thurman and impress her with my hair’s dna analysis. oh uma, i’d engineer a child with you anyday.

social regression

my childhood interests...becoming...embarassing

http://www.cnn.com/2006/SHOWBIZ/TV/05/12/tv...

and by interests, i am referring to the band

the pinnacle of my week

please tell me that one of you caught the 6:30 EST we are the eighties on vh1 classic yesterday. it was like something out of a dream. i hit the channel halfway through the program, hoping to catch some sheila e. or pebbles but instead found a manifestation of my own subconscious. first a young phil collins stole a prince keyboard riff in “sussudio”. next, whitney showed me the way to love myself with flashbacks to her youth in “greatest love of all”. and finally huey lewis’ “hip to be square” gave me the confidence to continue working out most every day and watching what i eat. it was probably the greatest sequence of videos ever played on vh1. somewhere patrick bateman is smiling hollowly.

c-fed not k-fed

though i currently reside in the north, i spent some time in the south a few years ago, and this surprises me none. to actually make a holiday to remember those that fought for (among other things) the right to enslave humans is so ridiculous that i’d expect nothing less from our “brothers to the south”. and even though i took this c-fed memorial day off to recreate the battle of antietam with q-tips and pop rocks, keep in mind that my behavior is not an endorsement of this pseudo “holiday”, but rather of the unifying american value of laziness.

how i spent my summer/evening

last night my night was fun. i went to millvale. i saw my friend rebecca. we saw her deli guy. we laughed at jokes. we heard music from russian circles, mewithoutyou, and minus the bear. russian circles was good. they played like a rocket pop from the icecream man on a hot day. mewithoutyou could have done without their lead singer. he was bad. minus the bear was more fun than a slip-n-slide. they played old and new tunes, but none from the first e.p. oh well it was still cool and fun. i would definitely go see them again. it was the best vacation ever.

passage

there is a certain romance about foreseeing the end of an era. it is a glassy-eyed, sappy (sad-happy) feeling that hangs over “the past”’s impending doom. it must be excruciating to find yourself thrown into this phase of someone else’s history, especially when you can see what used to be in their eyes on certain nights when alcohol and moonlight betray them. the urge to repeatedly ask, “why” must be unbearable. the unsatisfactory answer is, of course, that this is how these things go. and, like quicksand, struggling against momentum only makes it worse.

the word. inbound. v1.0.

on my way into the great city of philadelphia this evening, there rode a man in an unsuspecting (though completely "un-cool") car. i say that the car was unsuspecting, while omitting a large detail...or rather, a pair of large details.

thinking back to the days of ice-cream truck turned political propaganda machines, the small sedan had two large (easily 5 ft in length, 4 ft in diameter) megaphones attached to its roof. the man, with a mission on his mind, proceeded to speak through a microphone that hung from his ceiling, obviously attached to the before-mentioned amplified speakers. from his mouth came the words of jesus, or so he was more than happy to repeat to us. and my friends, i tell you this...traffic stopped at the moment of his sermon, though more likely due to the upcoming construction.

i'm not sure what else to say about this observation of mine, other than the fact that i chose to watch this spectacle with great interest. after all, the market for those megaphones must be shrinking with each passing traffic-filled day.

liberty and death

oh my god. i’m already starting to wake up in cold sweats at night and dry heaving during the day because of this. it’s not so much the uncertainty of where mysteries will be shot (i am confident that the city of pittsburgh, while running out of money for police and firemen, will find a way to subsidize a motion picture by any means necessary) but liberties like this:

The screenplay calls for the characters of Arthur (not to be confused with Art) and Cleveland Arning to be consolidated into one, played by Mr. Sarsgaard.

i know novels need to be adapted for the screen and occasionally they work perfectly (see american psycho) but how in the hell is jane supposed to be taken with clev-thur, as i’m calling the unholy hybrid? can’t anyone else see the folly in an effeminate biker thug? i need a xanax.

zebras get it

the best things in life, i think, are composed of contrasts. just today i played homerun derby in the afternoon sun wearing ralph lauren and couldn’t have been happier. the line between jock and prettyboy was blurred. certainly my long balls wouldn’t have had the same effect without it. it’s the reason everyone can get behind the underdog, and why people go to great (unnecessary) lengths to state that they are unique. this is also why i like to alternate between bartles and james and scotch whiskey.

donovan and prince

is it too much to ask for the yellow flowers in my back yard to bloom at the same time as the purple bush? they’ve already turned brown after 2 weeks of yellowness and the purple bush has now taken over as the focus of attention. but, like racial harmony, the two working together in sync still eludes mother nature. i’m finding that these little things bother me more than usual and that may be a symptom of a more general malaise that will go away once i decide on a couch for my living room. at least the narrator in my head thinks so.

oil is food

when gasoline becomes more costly than the johnnie walker that puts me to sleep every night (black label, because it matches my chairs), do i then need to make the switch?

because, truly, my car deserves a little scotch now and then. other than that back seat incident in miami a few years back...

mookie...is white

using nes footage to re-create history is genius. using rbi baseball...well, you had me at hello.

http://www.joystiq.com/2006/04/11/1986-world-series-re-enacted-in-rbi-baseball/

i <3 lawyers

one of my few regrets is that i didn't go to law school and thus can't make statements like this:

Alarm One Inc.'s lawyers say the spankings — with a competitor's yard sign — were done in fun to build camaraderie among the sales force and that there was no intent to hurt employees.

and this:

Alarm One's lawyers say Orlando voluntarily quit after five months at the company and that she was a willing participant in the spankings. They say the practice wasn't discriminatory because supervisors spanked both male and female employees.

let me just say that being a willing participant in spanking games (i.e. spanking pictionary) does in fact build camaraderie. unless you are the one who keeps yelling, "this is gay", and, "quit spanking me with your open palm". if you don't like it, don't wear speedos to the game. jeez.

dear april,

sometimes, it is simply enough to watch others react to the way that others react to life.

while i cannot be certain that my voice (and any extension of it) has become tired, it has occurred to me that the person most affected by such a happening would, in fact, be...me. so it was good to sit back and watch. good to listen and good to read. every now and again, there is value in taking the time to acquire what had previously been spent. that time has now passed, and the assumption (undoubtedly!) is that i am better because of it. it is not that i have again earned the right to re-distribute myself, but just that there should now be more of myself to re-distribute. it feels good to assume.

what all of this means, of course, is that i need to go to the beach. because sometimes, even in april, its really....fucking....hot outside. i also need to pick up my guitar again. plans to again alter the image of my wardrobe include this weekend, which is easy enough to accomplish. i'm moving, because i need more out of my walls. may already appears to be completely filled with colored items on an outlook calendar crying for less of the same. this upsets me. i don't feel bad for the calendar. that would be stupid. or maybe i do. april tends to bring out emotions like this, times when we feel for even an application within a box that sits on a desk or a lap or a four-star bar that used to allow cigar smoke.

it's good to hear from me again. i sound different in the box.

early impressions

most of my childhood memories have morphed with dreams and things that never happened to take up permanent residence in my mind. even so i’m fairly sure this happened in real life. around fifteen years ago a rather rotund man came to my school to perform some sort of show for the students. as it involved equipment for a sports display and he played to elementary schools for a living, he needed some children to be his roadies. i was, needless to say, among the select few picked. the actual show was unmemorable except for the playing of marky mark’s “good vibrations” during a demonstration where the man kept 4 basketballs spinning on himself at the same time. looking back i think that it was responsible for my never being able to love basketball quite the same as i did other sports. however, after the show (we had to help him clean up too) he took us around the back of the school and said he wanted to reward us for our hard work helping him. so he pulled out this beige tube like object from his pants. now, i know what you’re thinking, but you’re way off. it wasn’t a roll of dimes, but quarters! he threw them in the grass and we grabbed as much cash as we could to buy things like baseball cards, candy cigarettes, and bubble gum. what a day.

you know what i haven’t had in a while? big league chew.

guff catching

i caught some guff (i don’t know what that means either) from some colleagues today about my current ringtone, which happens to be the chorus of “big poppa”. but it’s not like they are even that old. one is thirty and the other is around thirty-three. i’m beginning to find that biggie is a real polarizer, with some immediately moving to the beat upon hearing it and others saying that it is embarrassing and does not accurately represent the struggles of my youth -- growing up in middle class suburbia. so even though i’m sure most of phlox’s readers (of which the 13-19 year old "tween" bracket is by far the largest—go figure) will choose musical wizards fall out boy or avril lavigne, i’m taking suggestions for a new ringtone that better defines t.price.

stick it

is everyone else as excited as i am about this behind-the-scenes look at the gripping world of competitive gymnastics? though it is sure to become a staple in the TBS “groundhog day”-esque inescapable circle of classic movie reruns, i believe i shall see it in the theatre to best experience the dolby surround grunting that my house so sorely lacks. *note to self, increase domestic grunting*

despicable

oh, now you’ve done it chi-o (that’s chi omega sorority for all you non greeks). you’ve gone and sullied the already-stellar names of both kent state and chi-Ho sorority, inc. you just had to present your “blackest member” award while an african american was within earshot of your event. you also had the “award” winner’s genius date explain to the media:

[my] date received the award because she was motherly and nurturing

for shame girls. but this does remind me of my time in the greek system when i was crowned “least asian” two years in a row.

free pamela

the tennessean is reporting that pamela rogers, one of the thousands of teachers caught defiling young students, is back in custody after violating her parole by writing blogs on myspace. here’s an excerpt allegedly written to a minor:

" 'My Plans are Your Plans....' 'Nothing's Changed....' 'Say it.....say it....' Always is the word, Baby, always. Listen to "Far Away" by Nickleback...."

i, for one, think she is innocent, as nickleback’s arrangements will kill any mood in seconds and chad kroeger’s hair will make even the most virile of men impotent. or so the legend goes.

joggle

finally, i’ve found a sport that combines my cat-like hand-eye coordination with my love of retarded ideas. joggling is right up my alley, and training starts immediately. i figure that the juggling is the hardest part and i’ve already mastered that, so the marathon should be a breeze (i already juggle with one hand while drinking with the other some days. if you name your balls technically it isn’t drinking alone).

the secret history

although i finished reading the secret history a while ago, i wanted to reread parts of it before judgement. this is not a mystery or suspense novel but more a study of the human condition and its ancient flaws. it is much better that way and, in the vein of franny and zooey, has found immediate favor with me.

the work can be divided into two halves; before and after becoming a murderer. The first part focuses on richard’s perception of his arrival at hampden college in new england. reliving the first semester at a new school through richard’s eyes was pleasant for me. the group of friends he eventually falls in with remind me of some of my own so i may be biased in that regard. but any classic scholar will undoubtedly find hints of their own kind in henry or camilla. tartt’s writing is crisp and erudite to match richard’s first perceptions of the other characters.

like so many things in college, killing takes on some sort of semi-real dream state, not evoking the proper emotional superlative in either direction. it’s almost as if a filter is over the college, blurring edges and casting doubt on senses. the absence of modern religion is a must, but morality is a different story. how much do actions weigh on consciences? is there ever a right thing to do? how much whiskey can you actually drink in one night when your good friend steals away your sister?

turn the page

i went to a new gym this morning. i was a little anxious but also excited to start this new chapter in my life. oh, i've not abandoned the old one. i still go to that on weekdays, but this one is closer to my house for the weekends. i know what you're thinking: "two gyms at the same time? how will he ever make that work? and what about the expense?" but, wow, this new gym is an upgrade. four times the cardio machines, twice the nautilus, twice the smith machines, four times the plasma televisions, and newer, un-spit-upon floors. the closest analogy i can think of is when you are dating someone but then meet someone even better looking with even better musical taste.

so i was the second one to arrive this morning and the TVs weren't on yet but the music video channel audio was playing. is it sad that i knew the video for "girlfriend" by pebbles and was picturing it in my head as i heard the song?

PA vs. 4th grade girls

an article about the freedom of fashion caught my eagle eye, and as the battle is in PA it hits close to home. ah, upper saint clair; many rungs above saint clair socially, and far superior to the leper colony which is lower saint clair. unbelievably, an elementary school is banning a ten year old girl from wearing a miniskirt to school. is this disruptive to the educational process? Apparently not, judging from zoe’s erudite statement to the press:

"My sign says, 'Style is Freedom,'" she said, "because freedom of expression is in the Constitution."

And though her sign is hard to see and looks like “freedom of xrsin” at first glance, it is clear from her craftsmanship and the priorities instilled upon her by her mother that she will no doubt be integral in leading the united states into the latter half of the twenty-first century.

knot tying

in response to chris’s impending marriage i will post light-heartedly about the improbable. my future wife’s silouette is slim and her profile elegant. she likes to play more than work. she is easily amused and excitable, enjoying simple pleasures. she is oh-so-subtle though, chooses words carefully, and reveals more with her smile than her tongue. she can turn men into boys. and i only see her when i drink absinthe. sigh.

different twain

it is my unhumble opinion that book learning and common sense are separate entities and assuming one based upon the other is fundamentally flawed. that is why i don’t understand harvard’s course on how to be happy. apparently this class meets twice a week to impart such non-scholarly wisdom on students as “don’t do what your parents want; instead do what you want and you’ll be happier in the end”. as groundbreaking as that is, it’s pointless to study. if you have to take notes or be tested on something to consider it worth knowing then you probably aren’t going to use the information in the right way even after you memorize it. this is also why i don’t understand duke university’s mandatory class “how not to assault strippers”.

sine waves

it is truly spring when your spirit lifts from home to work simply because the sun roof was open on your car. black and chilly winter make this welcome change that much sweeter. people that feel this way who live in the north are all a little sadistic, myself included. i suppose that is the reason why i abstain from whiskey for weeks just to then taste it’s sweetness and have it be slightly better than i remember it. because the only thing better than experiencing something for the first time is being denied it after having known it, and then having it once again.

bullets and bananas

today's locker room experience involved a man in the third trimester of his expected life, fully nude, eating a banana on a stool. i wondered if this represented a change in priorities over time for the old man, or simply an inbred derangement of sorts. it doesn't matter really. ultimately, i tend to be most concerned about myself. i decided to kill him, right then and there. unfortunately, i also decided against any physical contact. with nothing to fire or throw at the disgusting being sitting in front of me with his banana, i simply walked out into the gym. isn't that how it always is?

diana prince

this article about girls going wild caught my attention for a couple seconds. it makes points such as alcohol is more of an excuse for young women to do stupid and fun things that wouldn’t normally fly, rather than some sort of metaphorical gun at their head forcing them to strip in public. this “implies that the problem with engaging in public sex on vacation is that they’d be [doing] more of it at home if only they were brave enough.” so, women, what have you to say for yourselves?

the following gem follows the explaination that with more opportunities for women to act out and be free (feminism) a “social toxicity” (materialism, etc.) is also being created.

Young women today are like superheroes in the first pages of the comic book, blessed with incredible powers and not yet aware of the responsibilities that come with them.

so this begs the question, ‘why can’t i find a girl with a magic lasso?’ i’m almost certain we’d hit it off. if you’re out there, please lasso my heart.

falling from grace, terminally speaking

not to be critical, but...

were the good people charged with running duke's daily operations aware that they would be trading a national basketball championship for a rape scandal? this turn of events seems to highlight a turning point in a little battle i like to refer to as duke university vs. the city of durham. in this epic sociological matchup, it appears as though the city has begun to infiltrate the minds of its enemy. soon, it will again be considered cool and mentionable to simply purchase your coke directly from the local dealer. all on campus, trust-funded entrepreneurs need not apply.

and, you know what...long live durham. why the hell not, right?

mo' novels mo' problems

i suppose pouring oneself into his work can be explained by one of two things: finding work more interesting than anything else or finding whatever alternative there is more objectionable. so, um, there’s this novel sitting at my house, and it’s north-north reaction to me is keeping me at the office. the book is not poorly written or unentertaining, i think it’s just the wrong time for us. even if i brazenly watch music videos this book sits there and stares at me. and i can’t read two books at a time, so it’s either give up or read it. although this problem is allowing me to quickly climb the corporate ladder it is vexing nonetheless. i am preparing for another battle of wills tonight until house can save me.

my direction is unclear

here is a blurry picture from nada surf's saturday set at waterloo records in austin. if you weren't at south by southwest then picture, if you will, the whole festival looking like this. and, near the end of each night, imagine actually being able to see the notes bands were playing. blurrily.

reebok killing more than style

this article about the recall of deadly gift bracelets is yet another reason why i no longer purchase reebok shoes. first they made the retail price of their “pump” sneakers an outrageous three digits back in 1990 (result: no pumps for little t.price) and now they are poisoning children. with an amount of incompetence not seen since… well… katrina (nagin what?). this quote from the article is pretty ridiculous

"Laboratory analysis of the charm from the child indicated it contained 99 percent lead," the department said in a statement; the safety threshold for lead content in jewelry is 0.06 percent.

this kind of execution must have also been responsible for reebok losing all the market share they gained with the pump sneakers to nike. i bet whoever designed the bracelets is considering pulling an orlando bloom from elizabethtown.

\/ \/\/

a significant portion of the trip to austin last week was spent reciting lines from volkswagen’s new GTI commercial campaign. the series of spots are by far the funniest current ads and up near the top for the twenty first century. the scientist is peter stormare, a swedish actor who has been in, among other things, constantine, the big lebowski, and a seinfeld episode. his manner of speaking can only be described as ebonic german-accented english, which i hear is getting big in berlin. also genius is the v-dub gang sign he flashes, which i have already started using shamelessly in conversation. german engineering in tha haus, yah.

florida: fun in the sun or educational powerhouse?

this is exactly why districts shouldn’t put horny twenty-four year old teachers in classrooms with mature fourteen year old students. lord knows what even my middle-aged eighth grade english teacher was doing with my yearbook picture at night. but fear not, this may all have been planned for lafave according to this gem from the article

“I am a strong Christian woman," she said. "I believe that God has a path for me, and this was just a bump in the road.

a sexy, bipolar, illegal, christian bump.

now north by northeast. of south by southwest.

memorable, less calendar-specific memories of sxsw...

involving music always works. i've never seen more people in less space produce less alcohol-related incidents. the bands gave everyone something to focus on, look forward to, gravitate towards. this is not something that can be fabricated.

i am now a believer that one hour is enough. mood is established. crowds are captivated. as people on the floor, we're convinced that our actions drive the show. yelling out song names, varying attempts at harmonizing with those on stage...these actions are results. the catalyst resides beneath strings, white keys, bass pedals, and the vocals of those most equipped to offer up their talents. i bought nada surf's daniel lorca a beer on a night following their show...i owed him and the members of so many other bands much more than that.

it was a good weekend for bands that kept membership to a minimum. the subways, mates of state, two gallants, nada surf...there were others, and each managed to impress beyond my own expectations, without crowding the stage. it is possible to create goodness with less than four people. specific highlights are too great in number to elaborate on. i will only say that they each had a place in solidifying my general level of elation.

there is considerably more to say. for now, this is enough. your satisfaction is a relative term, after all.

SXSW saturday roundup

the saturday showers, though a blessing to the wildfire regions of texas, were less well received by austin's residents. they did quit for blocks of time, however, and more stellar lineups served to un-dampen spirits. daniel from nada surf told i am not victor ward at stubb's on friday that they were playing an acoustic set at waterloo records around three in the afternoon. thus, our first stop was a crowded record store where drinking was permitted and paying for merchandise was optional (not really). after the first two songs matthew said that he'd take requests, but i really think he had songs in mind and clearly picked whatever he wanted whether shouted aloud or not. they played mostly songs from let go and the weight is a gift like thursday, but changed up some songs so it wasn't identical. the highlight was their closing piece, an extended version of the "kitty" song complete with purring and mewing (although daniel translating "fruit fly" into french while matthew played was the runner up moment).

next it was on to catch up on drinking (somehow we were behind at 3:30pm). we stopped in a few bars while walking down 6th street, and eventually afternoon changed into evening. we arrived early at la zona rosa for the stills show at ten. a band from new york city, california (or something like that), augustana, played well opening up. next morningwood took the stage with a vendetta against silence. their commanding singer made the mediocre set enjoyable, as only someone wearing a holster for her mic can do. then the stills took the stage and rocked in their good-looking, charming manner. they played five new songs and three old ones. from what i recall of the new, they were very good but seemed lighter, a different kind of sound than logic will break your heart. when the bass drum started up for lola i think i was the happiest i'd been all weekend. of course, i was partial to the songs i know and love and that one is tattooed on my gray matter.

after that we left for fox and hound, an outdoor venue boasting she wants revenge and we are scientists. after getting passed over for wrisbanded people we were finally let in (as far as the wristband issue, we generally found they weren't needed but we weren't club hopping incessantly or trying to get into wristband-only clubs). she wants revenge came on in their devil-may-care manner, and the record exec standing next to us' presence assured me that they are for real. i have to say it was really great, even not knowing most of their songs. the singer is just so full of cool that it spills out of his voice very smoothly. i think if he sung about politics i'd immediately find the topic interesting. we are scientists played well but were outshined by she wants revenge, and by this time i was pretty tired. highlights include the ridiculous dollar-sign shaped necklace on the bassist.

i have more to say about some things but that ends the saturday summary. 11 hours of music, seven bands, one kitten song. and a desire to never go home.

SXSW friday roundup

i know this is a day late, but saturday was just too busy. anyway, friday night was grand in terms of sets and weather. we attended stubb's from eight until one a.m. this venue is one of the few open-air stages and the sky was a pretty orange/gray for the whole night. after two bands that i didn't recognize and didn't note as anything spectacular the subways rocked the knickers off the place. the pixie-ish bassist won everyone over after a mere thirty seconds and i can't say for sure that i'd turn her down if she asked me to marry her today. the boyish singer climbed the speaker stacks no less than four times and jumped a good fifteen feet back to the stage each time. next came metric (whose attractive singer sang a song with the stills on saturday, but i'm getting ahead of myself). their set was kind of up and down, half the time i was entranced and the remainder i found the songwriting unimpressive. of course, when i say so-so i am speaking relatively, and that means it would still beat any other non-sxsw show with a cane. the magic numbers came on with a flourish of hippie spunk. it was at this point that my friday-night-friend brian, a scottish bloke, dipped his shamrock necklace (it was st. patrick's day, dig) in his guiness ale and then licked it and gave it to me as an international peace offering. it worked, and we have a truce for the next two years.

if you were waiting for the grand finale of a snow patrol review, you may be disappointed. we left before "snoo pahtrohl", much to the dismay of brian. but, hey, we had things to do.

SXSW thursday roundup

warm weather and crowds of hipsters welcomed us into the austin area thursday afternoon. this being our first time at south by south west (and in austin) we were open to whatever would be thrown at us, but still ended up surprised by a few things. like the massive amount of american auto makers' commercials who emphasize that the cars are made "by texans" (not by illegal immigrants). but on to the shows.

we got to sixth street around 5:45 to survey the scene. already there were masses of denim and bad hair swirling about in the 75 degree weather. after consulting a few people we decided not to risk going to different places, especially since both mates of state and nada surf were playing at the parish. so we tayed there from seven until two, drinking and nodding and being used as a balance for underage drunk girls. of the six bands we saw the most pleasant surprise was two gallants. this white-stripes-esque two piece drum and guitar outfit rocked while baring it's soul. the drummer reminded me of the guy from local h, while the singer/guitarist reminded me of a higher pitched emo jack white. i highly recommend them. mates of state rocked their 40 minute set, had me and everyone else singing along like pied pipers. it was at this time that marissa, whom i'd never met before, started groping and leaning on me because i knew the words to "goods". i was sure that would come in handy some day. but alas, i think she was fourteen, so it wasn't meant to be. nada surf made me want to be a musician again, and daniel lorka brazenly lit up a cigarette in the clearly non-smoking bar during the last song "what is your secret?". a fuck you to the town elders, and a joyous endorsement for lung cancer. it was a blast.

revengers

i am really digging she wants revenge's new video for "tear you apart". more generally i like their sound. does this make me a bandwagon poser or gay? they're obviously very-influenced-by/sound-just-like joy division and they are getting spins on mtv. then again, if not them, what band should one listen to while applying makeup? adam, one half of the band, also has this to say (and since i've been anti-poser since 1999 i agree):

It's very hip now to be into new-wave and post-punk and to know what contemporary bands are influenced by Gang of Four, but Justin and I were listening to all that shit IN the 80's! And besides, when we were growing up people called us fags for listening to Madonna, Prince and The [Physchedelic] Furs... but now everybody's fronting like they always loved that shit - and I don't mean guilty pleasure, I mean play list in your iPod

syncopated jump rope rhyme

(clap clap) (clap) (clap clap) (clap)

gonna fly me down, to the south and west
gonna see me one band then see the rest
with a drink in my hand and the weight off my chest
my mistress i’m for to see

no car, no job, no face-to-face
with a handful of charm and a pinch of grace
the land she’ll warm my resting place
my mistress i’m for to see

austin. austin, massachusetts.

i spent a portion of last week disappointed.

this week's scheduled arrival in austin, already perceived to be a day late, was in danger of shortening yet another night of highly anticipated antics. all of this has changed, however, and so my spirits have adjusted accordingly. thursday is permitted to act as thursday afterall, which is good news for each and every one of us.

yes, i know friend, there is basketball to be watched and a holiday that i simply do not understand. there are other cities as well, with other attractions. something scandinavian, perhaps. but there is no place quite as grand as the location that i have allowed myself to venture to, that place in the future, which has been shaped by months of mental buildup. austin it is. pennsylvania for now, but austin soon enough.

you always travel, to many desirable places (and others less so), you may add. this is why we hear from you in such randomly distributed postings. well, yes. in this you are correct. but you're no austin. and neither are they.

we like good alcohol and great artistry for a reason. you and i. that is why we continue to meet like this.

au revoir, mon ami.

baby steps

there is nothing quite like using aerobic dumbells for resistance on bicep curls. not only are they smaller than my hand (two pound to start), they are also the most flaming, noticeable pink and purple. it was painful, grant, to be forbidden to lift any upper body for four months. but this is adding course-grain salt. i was standing next to some middle-aged lady this morning (i arrived late—seven a.m.—and the elderly were finishing up to get some lunch) who looked contemptuously at me while doing god-knows-what ab exercise on her rubber ball, as if i was mocking her weakness. videos from aha and the gap band as well as good memories from the weekend made the workout slightly less awkward. i am not sure what to expect monday when the regulars come in but i am fairly certain it won’t be good. i think i shall take my neon dumbells to the back area.

upside down frown

reasons to smile today:

1. high temperature is 64 degrees fahrenheit.
2. south by southwest, where it will hopefully be warmer than 64 degrees, is next week.
3. i may finally get to see jane bellwether this summer. sigh.
4. tommy good-times. nuff said.

conversation kills

overheard in the locker room:

jaime: …yeah, i’d really like to throw a few back with that guy
charles: he’s always got something sweet to…
jaime: did you ever party with him? you did right? last year’s christmas party? remember, i had to drive you home?
charles: ha, yeah, not too well. tommy good-times.
jaime: i heard he’ll be in town soon.
charles: want to work chest today?

i’ve noticed a startling trend that people whose surnames contain the words “good-times” or “kegger” seem to be more fun than normal people. this also happens when “fun” precedes someone’s christian name, i.e. fun bobby (whom i knew in college).

texas blazing trails again

according to the smoking gun a judge in san antonio recently footnoted a quote from billy madison on an opinion in bankruptcy court. you know, the one with “at no point in your rambling, incoherent response was there anything that could even be considered a rational thought”. this is remarkable not only for the keen insight that only adam sandler could give but also that a 58 year old man has actually seen the film. besides wondering why federal judges watch sandler films in their spare time, this also got me thinking about veronica vaughn. that same year she also played sonya blade in the classic film mortal kombat. that kind of info is essential if you want to win trivial pursuit 90s edition.

sacrilicious

another sunday morning gone, another fine block of high quality info-mercials watched. i love watching these programs as a cultural study as well as for the five easy payments of nineteen dollars and ninety-nine cents. my heart pauses for a second when they announce that the item is not available in stores, but i can eventually calm myself by remembering that this info-mercial has been running for four years and is not likely to sell out by next week. these gems offer countless glances into the eyes of the robotic-like consumer/info-mercial audience member, a rare breed whose ranks i one day aspire to join. along with writing the great american novel that is my greatest goal in life.

to barter

i could do without the sun
but it would have to be a trade

you know,
it's not really about what i can see

but rather
where i happen to be

my thoughts come
even in the dark

so perhaps a few of those
yeah, that works for me

singing along to ac newman

does anyone else say “virgin” instead of “version” while singing along to the new pornographers song “electric version”? grant that i am slightly demeneted but this seems as natural as katsup on eggs. virgins are hard enough to come by, but powerful, glowing electric ones would be just grand. and quite songworthy. they wouldn’t have to wear roman tunics and sandals but i think they would anyway. they are a mysterious fun-loving bunch. to be an electric virgin in the autumn, i think, would be quite agreeable.

fiery cold

is it possible that the better show can be experienced in your car in millvale after the band’s set has completed? of course not. but last night was the first time i considered this as i drove home. the fiery furnaces didn’t put on a bad show, but it was just less than what I’d expected. matt, who plays synth and organ on recorded tracks, played only guitar. thus the songs were arranged for guitar and the tempo was increased. this made for a more garage-y feel and much less singing along. but i got to hang out with rebecca and make (and hear) subtle comments and observations all night, which is really what live music is all about. that and the music, maybe. but after the set we hung out in my car for a f.f. song from ep and that was just as fun as anything all night.

mr. jones and me

for as long i can remember my fascination of mtv, i have always taken an inexplicable and special interest in the real world. some would argue that the majority of posts on a site such as this serve much the same purpose as this viewership, in that we all find enjoyment in the observation of others. and to that end, seeing the worst that humanity has to offer can sometimes bring us to the pinnacle of such a realm. recent real world seasons, however, have introduced a new sort of worst. it's not only that i find no reason to respect what i am watching, but also that i've lost interest in why i feel that way, why they are the way they are, and why the television has not yet learned to interpret my inner preferences as highest priority, regardless of my fingers' paths on the remote.

maybe future seasons will be filmed in high definition. maybe that's the new real. i don't have large pockets of time that can be aimed at watching the tv, and it's discouraging to note that i have little control over my final choice of programming. i also don't know that i want to "see me starin' back at me". adam duritz did, but his guitar is nicer than mine.