one of many

i thought i saw someone i knew at the gym today. this kind of thing happens so often now that i am never sure of anything. i glanced up and she was walking toward a corridor. when i looked up again she was gone. i walked to the corridor, but there was no one there. then i tried to remember what she looked like, but my mind had already melded the image with my memory of her from before so that couldn’t be trusted. plus, her face was off-shade due to heavy breathing. in addition, i’d just seen avril’s video for “sk8ter boi” on the monitors so her composite was slowly melding with a.l.’s. having considered all this for a moment, i went back to my routine. after all, that, if nothing else, helps anchor me to reality.

transition

given the closing of may, i had been mostly concerned with the likely truth that my tan would be largely viewed as unacceptable entering the month of june. thankfully, this slight (but noticeable) scare has been averted. all of this appears to be "well timed" (or at the very least "timed well") to those that know of my plans to also begin a prescription teeth whiting program over the next two weeks. not coincidentally, i've begun listening to the postal service on a fairly regular basis, along with a select few other bands that provide an equally soundtrack-acceptable collection of sound. translation: my life requires that i take in what i project. beautiful skin, glimmering teeth, and the sense that i'm following a path built on a synthesizer. it all feels correct.

oh

oh, to be in love on a tuesday. alas, i have no such luck -- i don’t even believe in tuesdays. but i do believe in me. i am watching a spider-like organism move slowly across the patterned carpet, feeling that this is an analog for my journey. i move in seemingly random directions, encountering the same pattern over and over again, with no more knowledge of the black shoe of death than of the end of infinity. it is not tuesday when you are two centimeters in diameter.

mmdywknd

over the years memorial day has become irremediably tangled with margaritas in my mind, just like christmas trees and gin or summer and nudity. the margarita is a drink that tips dangerously on edge. it has the potential to be butchered horribly and in that state it can ruin peoples lives (for a few hours), but a good margarita can help you remember the white-gold beaches of mexico in the spring even if you haven’t ever been there. that is why i recommend either patron or 1800 white and cointreau. i also recommend hanging out with attractive people and doing so on a sunny day while drinking.

borrowing from the nineties

did anyone else immediately think of ce ce penistion whenever they first heard the hillary duff song “with love”? i mean, the chorus is a blatant rip-off of “it should have been you”. i heard the duff song on mtv this morning and was shocked at this melodic plagiarism. this is yet another example of white stealing from black with no repercussions. but i suppose if you are going to imitate someone, ce ce peniston is one of the best choices you can make. not only is her nineteen ninety-two album finally a pop gem, it also has one of the best opening song duos in album history. “we got a love thing” is so i-don’t-care happy that it levitates, and “finally”, a striking piece about attaining your ideal partner, is even more emotional if less bubbly.

may fair

i've been listening to a lot of jazz lately. and by a lot, i mean more than usual. preliminary explanations point to the generally positive emotion conveyed by the melodies, but i find it hard to jump to conclusions. a lingering fact...combined with the current weather conditions in the northeast, my choices seem validated regardless of underlying reasoning. cheers.

bumper karts

i prefer to be surprised when i wake up. ideally, i would manage to forget something of considerable importance the night before, only to remember immediately upon opening my eyes. the advantage to this? it helps me to differentiate: to remember the days for some significant detail that inspired all the rest of the insignificant details. in short, a memorable awakening has the unique ability to define what it has no control over; my often listless life.

this morning, i was surprised.

because i live in a city, the sound of a car alarm alone isn't enough to cause it. i've grown...accustomed. but the sound of my car alarm...that's enough. fast forward to my second story window, to my stare across the street, to a blend; german sports sedan mixed with small american go-kart look-alike. at least she gave me the front end.

with my car now temporarily located in the fascinatingly trendy parking lot of the repair shop (a relative who's-who of the latest luxury models), i'm beginning to focus on tomorrow morning. while the leading possibilities remain fire and fallen airplane debris, i'm still holding out for a plague featuring a very specific breed of locusts. impossible, maybe, but the 6am rear-ending of a parked car isn't far behind on the reality scale.

i need to go buy insect repellent at neiman...will prada's new scent do? it certainly gave me that impression.

bury my bones in indiana

i spent the past extended weekend in south bend, indiana being assaulted repeatedly by the fightin’ irish. it was like their collective pride increased the air pressure around my being to a stifling level. and i’m still not sure why a school named after a french cathedral has the irish as mascots because no one would tell me. it was a pretty weather weekend, though, and acting pleasant takes your mind off of heavier things. it was fun to pretend i was back in school for a couple days, although it was different from my college days. i’ve never heard so many people make speeches about how faith and knowledge can coexist without the slightest contradiction. this is obviously a lie, but my promise not to ruin graduation prevented me from pointing this out. the commencement speaker was the c.e.o. of general electric, jeff immelt. his speech was very short and very good, incorporating humor and a sense of arrogance. it was mainly about how his company owned trump (g.e. owns nbc) and other television personalities and how g.e. was going green to help the environment. my ambitions are basically the same except for the environment part.

fusion

read here, classic rock devotees - i have listened to, understand, own, and generally appreciate every one of the 15 albums you've cycled through your changer in the last forty years. only, forgive me for doing it in forty days, at the age of 16; with the same level of comprehension. call it what you would like, but my penchant for timelessness has always been aimed much more closely at three-button suits than musical and visual art. with music in particular, the parameters are simply too dynamic and the stage is firmly set in the here-and-now. longevity relating to a specific piece of work is simply a part of that equation, and in many ways, is actually the most dependant element...

however...having now railed against timelessness, i'm writing today that this same diminished importance, in the proper context, can also work in favor of these tracks published long ago. throw out the past altogether, and the possibility still remains for the listener to truly notice and give in to the nostalgic and genuine yearning for emotional distribution put forth by seasoned veterans of the stage. i had the fortune of such an experience on wednesday night, and its details are not soon to leave my thoughts...

morrison is dead, densmore has been bitter for thirty years, and krieger and manzarek now physically resemble individuals approaching a triple digit birthday. what remain of the doors are those same two old men, full song rights to the entire collection, a new name, and a new lead singer; all of which intrigued me to the point of needing to catch their current tour. the venue...one of the most famous theatres in the northeast and a former stop on doors' tours of yesteryear.

riders on the storm, now fronted by brett scallions (fuel, 89-06), filled the keswick theater (philly) to capacity and then some...as expected, the crowd was simply too diverse to explain. with a seating model that favored symphony viewing more than flowing rock, fewer than a hundred people were granted passage to a standing area immediately in front of the stage. everyone else was assigned a red-velvet covered seat in one of the rows that followed. fortunately for us, we were in the back row of our section...we took advantage and stood for the duration. after all, brett asked us to.

scallions took a risk with this gig, and it was only after his performance that i was able to understand why he did it. it wasn't brett-impersonating-jim, it wasn't brett-interpreting-jim...i don't know, it just felt right. like the leather pants and unbuttoned shirt he was wearing, the music allowed me to marvel at how doors-like and brett-like the entire scene really was....his voice flowed into the lows of morrison's range effortlessly, his stage meandering felt anything but choreographed, and there were certainly times where you could close your eyes and blend the album with the present. to be fair, portions of the set, especially in between songs, felt slightly forced. krieger and manzarek sounded as old as they looked when they talked (though not when they played), and there was all-too-obvious ass kissing flying all around the stage between the old heads, brett, the audience, and back to the old heads...sometimes, it felt stiff. nevertheless, some of that came off as pleasantly nostalgic, and given that i'm not nearly old enough to have experienced the live tour the first time around, i deferred judgement to those who had and seemed to enjoy the chance to re-live it. as my friend ben pointed out, manzerek's constant need to play the keys with his shoe was also a little distracting at times, but the night truly boiled down to a familiar sound from a familiar voice.

i'm not sure where this show ranks for me from a quality standpoint, but it certainly moves close to the top in the category of "shows i'm happy not to have missed". more importantly, one act from the show in particular, break on through, was definitive enough in itself to remain in memory indefinitely. great show, great venue, and a renewed faith for me that the classic tours don't always have to disappoint. and that brett can do an entire show sober and in good vocal condition. weird.

it's always been there

as i was growing up, my father often had to spend time out of town. a few days gone were hardly noticeable, but there was something to be said of his trips that covered multiple weeks. from those journeys, he would return with gifts, usually in the form of t-shirts or collectibles. as everyone knows, blue t-shirts that say "atlanta" in scripted neon green lettering are as good as any apology.

the things is, after two weeks, i needed things. my mother never understood why only a $200 nokona glove would do, and with the webbing coming loose in the old one and nobody else to go to, i ran into problems. problems that needed to be solved in hours, not waited on for weeks. the point: if you miss enough, practicality becomes imperative no matter how trivial the stage. after two weeks of waiting, all i needed was a fucking glove. put down the shirt and take me to the store.

my hiatus from this site has concluded, and i come bearing more than a cotton blend. my next post will describe significant music, the type of information that this site has proven most capable of delivering. i would not have returned with anything less.

dear jane

please don’t give me one syllable replies because then your lips don’t move as much. i’ve discovered i like words better as text than as sonic vibrations, but i still love to see you speak. we can make our memories short and marked by a lack of concern. we can sit facing each other twelve inches apart. i can sing like paul banks and you can mouth the words back to me. we can try living sideways, neither progressing nor retreading. we can do all these things. or we can never meet.

clench

the other writer on this blog (there’s another?) is taking an indefinite leave to plan his wedding and subsequent move south, so that is why he hasn’t posted in a while. as for myself, i’ve just been staring at the sun (think smile, not the god-awful u2 -- or for those of you who were too young in 1994 think tv on the radio). i lead a non-stressful life by choice but i recently found out that i clench my teeth while i sleep. i can only imagine this has something to do with repressed memories. either that or my brain is taking my wasted potential out on my teeth. time will tell, i suppose, although i suspect that my great american novel will be published posthumously.

slipping not falling

i have a problem. i am having increasing difficulty filtering which memories of mine are real and which were part of my subconscious imagination or dreams. this is both bad in real life and in my dreams. remembering things that haven’t happened either makes you quirky or crazy in real life, but it is far worse at night. since i can never be one hundred per-cent sure what is going on, i have to tone down my behavior in the sandbox in my mind. as you can probably imagine, this makes for less exciting dreams where instead of snorting drugs off hooker’s backs i balance my checkbook and politely decline company for the evening.

where i've been

i haven’t posted in a while. recently i’ve been overcome by highs and lows, but no creamy middles. my mood has followed the weather in exact proportion such that when it is sunny i don’t want to write because of too many options and when it rains i don’t want to write because of too few. much of the last five days were spent trying in vain to solve all of the hard-category sudoku puzzles on my electronic game. i would sit down, nodding every second like i had a medical condition, rambling such strings of syllables as, “three four six nine r.kelly one one one you moron, roll up on dubs, i’m a flirt…”. when it was nice out i would drive to nowhere and back and then wash my car even though it was washed the day before.

sunday sunday

i spent today alternating between working out, laying on my back in the sun, laying on my front in the sun, and laying on my side watching playoff hockey. i’ve figured out the exact time i need to be in the sun (per side) to keep my tan looking healthy. couple that with my long-held knowledge of the perfect amount of diet coke to replace with whisky in the sixteen ounce bottles to get the correct taste and there is no question that my outdoor skills are superior to most others’. knot tying? florae identification? my butler handles such things as those.

suitcases of liquor

this article about a london house party gone wrong is terribly entertaining. at least three separate parts of the article are quote-worthy. basically, this seventeen year old girl advertised on myspace.com that her parents would be on holiday. she was then shocked that more than forty people showed up at her house, some carrying what neighbors describe as “a suitcase full of alcohol”. that is totally out of line, of course. etiquette requires only one carry-on bag and a small personal item filled with pharmaceuticals per person (at least that’s the way it was back when i was young). the girl’s mother has the best quote, though it may overstep the bounds of the literary device personification:

Whoever has come in here are worse than animals, it's like house rape. They've been sick everywhere, urinated and trashed the house. It will take a month for it to be professionally cleaned and we are having to stay in temporary accommodation.

from her head to her toe

head

i overthink situations. mostly when image is an issue. this is strange because i don’t really care, but i try to give the impression that i care. when deciding between a solemn glare and a quarter smile as my expression, just know that i am trying to decide not what i want to look like but what i want other people to think i look like. i carry a nontrivial burden on my shoulders.

shoulders

shoulders are never the same once they’ve been broken. they can be rebuilt, but never as well. scars are permanent but painkillers are fleeting. i try to keep my shoulders back and square. i try to keep them away from walls.

navel

if your shoulders are back then it is uncomfortable to look at your torso. which is unfortunate, since navel gazing is one of my favorite pastimes.

kness

much like my attitude toward humans, my knees remain flexible even at this age. i learned long ago that flexible was better than stiff, and i live my life accordingly. sure, sometimes they complain if they experience prolonged use, but how else should i pray to l. ron hubbard for new sneakers?

toes

i like consistency. perhaps that is why i am irked by the fact that my biggest toe is not my longest toe. on an otherwise perfect base it is the one thing i feel underconfident about.

reunion

i think all reunions are awkward. by nature they bring together things that were apart. and when people are apart they have no common experience, which is the basis of most non-awkward conversation. i do like unions, however. they are not so much awkward as exciting. and they leave a lot of wiggle room for truth stretching (truth is like a rubber band). the thing i like best, though, is when unions feel like reunions and reunions feel like continuous conversations.

kol - because of the times

the lyrics in the album jacket of because of the times are unbelievably wrong. i’m not going to claim i understand everything coming out of caleb’s mouth, but there are some obvious exclusions of syllables and phrases which make me doubt the accuracy of the entire thing.

as unfortunate as that is, i must say i love the album as a whole. yes, it is all over the place where aha shake heartbreak was much more focused, but it also takes so many chances that by sheer probability some of them must succeed. and succeed they do, once or twice in the most magnificent ways, such that the few failures barely register. the only cause for concern is if the kings continue too far down the path of effects and shiny polish to the point where the music loses its balance. depending upon what their next album sounds like, this one will either be considered the last great kings album or the watershed event in their careers.

i’ve been listening to the album in its entirety for several weeks now, so my opinions have passed the initial reaction and reached an equilibrium. the first song, “knocked up” is seven minutes of quiet, intense emotion. it was a bold and perfect move to make it the lead song on the album. “charmer” sounds like late strokes material, and while i didn’t like it at first, it has grown on me. i’m not too keen on “on call”, the first single. it sounds too normal and alt-rock-y. but “mcfearless”, the next track, is a virtual kick to the balls. the percussion is furious, reminiscent of block party’s first album, and caleb makes you feel every emotional line in the chorus. “black thumbnail” is a great southern swing song, similar to, but slightly poppier than what appeared on ash. “my party” is the only throwaway song on the album, in my opinion. it just doesn’t grab me.

the second half of the album is even better than the first. “true love way” blends great backing vocals with a great theme. this album has a lot of great background vocals in a way you wouldn’t expect from kings, especially this song and “knocked up”. “ragoo” is probably my favorite song on the record. i can listen to it over and over without tiring. it is a simple song with a syncopated rhythm that reminds me of summer evenings. i believe “fans” may be the second single, and while every song showcases caleb’s unique vocal abilities, this song features falsetto in almost every bar. it’s pretty in a twenty-cigarette-night-but-i’m-still-trying-to-sing-at-3am way. “the runner” is another great song about running away from home. the next track, “trunk”, is one i am not sure about. i usually skip it but i will reserve judgment until later. “camaro” is the kind of straightforward rock track one would expect from the previous two albums, but with a little more vocal effects. finally, “arizona”, the closer, is just terrific. it is a reflective piece with a pretty, wailing lead guitar that makes my eyes blink repeatedly.

early april

the weather is warm again, but now i have slipped under it. not too far that i can’t see the daffodils in my backyard, but far enough that i find it a nuisance to move. i still go to the gym because i don’t know how not to. i need to kick this bug and experience spring vitality before the summer malaise starts and i end up lying naked in the sun with a bottle of whiskey singing thin lizzy songs to the trees.

and because, be it dentist office or bedroom, everyone enjoys a good drilling in the spring, here is the POS remix of minus the bear’s “drilling”

girlfriend

arvril lavigne’s new single “girlfriend”, the video for which i’ve been watching on repeat for the last day, has brought back to the forefront my issue with hot canadian pop girls. the issue is that i have an irrational crush on them all, but avril is the one i love the most. even when her inane lyrics are fergie-like (without spelling everything out) and contain out-of-place profainity for a song made of equal parts “hey mickey” and pixie stick. at least i think i’ve finally figured out what qualities i value most in girls:

✓ is a musician
✓ is attractive
✓ can chant like a cheerleader when necessary

sidewalk prayer

there is more truth on sidewalks than in any of the homes in front of which they lie. i saw some writing on a sidewalk a few days ago. it went something like “[star] [crescent] t + b forever [heart] [seductive eyes]”. i couldn’t help but feel that t and b might have a better chance together now that the universe was aware of them. plus, in my experience, seductive eyes never hurt any situation.

a door

i worry that the number of passwords kept in my memory is growing too large. this often conjures up the image of too many demands. expert-designed hallways with walls angled at physically impossible angles, following a path borne of statistical genius. it's as though people want parts of me that never quite existed in the first place. you probably want me to single out reasons for this. words like ominous, transcendent, overarching, and hollow, fill your reaction. don't worry. i don't forget so easily. what you're seeing is something i've already given you. and i don't have to understand to know that we had it right the first time.

bloom

although it's spring, my thoughts are much more focused on the presence of lindsay lohan on the cover of gq, and how i should react to this finding. i'm beginning to look at things more broadly, which scares people who have already used phrases like too general, too impersonal, and heartless when describing me. this is usually the time of the year that smaller details sort themselves out, and distance is definitely the new handshake. disconnection is key. i'm thinking of how good the sun feels, and that yeah, it's something that i can probably focus on, moving forward. you can be in a room with a hundred people and not share a thought, and this doesn't scare me in the least. nothing fazes this phase, and i smile at how clever that sounds. yesterday i drove a hundred and twenty in two different cars. while i have no particular guide on this subject, tomorrow should bring one-thirty, but only once. you decide which is more meaningful. i'm willing to bet that it doesn't mean much. lindsay lohan is on the cover of gq and i'm thinking; probably. maybe. didn't this used to matter?

what i'm thinking

when i was a young man i put away childish things. i wanted to be ahead of the curve. but now i am taking those things back out (only the becoming ones, of course). the curve has wrapped around and led back upon itself, and i can now think of nothing better than the freedom of youth. i like respect, but i can live without it. i don’t want to live without genuine carefree amusement.

watermelon bubblegum

here is a taste of last week’s south by southwest experience for all you who can’t get enough of p.l.a.’s lifestyle.

the first clip is mew playing at la zona rosa on saturday. it is the first song in their set, “special”, which is a single off their and the glass handed kites album. we were standing back and to the right from this person. the sound is never perfect on these handhelds, but you can still feel jonas’ emotion come through. it was nearly thrice as good drunk and in person.



this clip is the last show we saw in austin this year, girl talk on saturday night at elysium. greg’s shows are always energetic and fun, and i can’t really remember wanting to dance before i experienced his live act. the pure pop-iness of it recalls the scent of watermelon bubblegum and a sunny day from my youth. i was riding my bike, listening to the pop station on my transistor radio, thinking to myself ‘it doesn’t get any better than paula abdul’. well, i was wrong. it does.

s aturd ay

a saturday afternoon in austin: better basketball, the realization that ordering food is more complicated that i had assumed, a promising musical lineup to look forward to, the realization that we still lacked wristbands, and taxis that stayed away for far too long. afterwards, first impressions of downtown on st. patrick's day prompted bad memories of too much green, mixed with more recent nightmares of denied entry. kings of leon and field music, in separate locations and despite our efforts to the contrary, were left unseen by those that mattered most.

the night's first actual enjoyment over music occurred in a familiar venue. tucked away at la zona rosa, mohair put on a spirited performance that brought energy back to our earlier dejection. bizarre brit wardrobes aside, the set was both visually and audibly invigorating. with the rushed feel of many sxsw sets, i'm always willing to forgive a certain amount of cliche in exchange for well planned delivery. mew followed with my favorite performance of the weekend. seamless transition between varying styles was the most evident highlight, closely followed by a sound that rang true and confident throughout. throw in the expert use of the lzr stage-length video projection setup, more vodka, and fairly knowledgeable danish fans surrounding me with their enthusiasm, and the party was essentially sublime. after an hour that went much too fast, eisley took the stage and entertained in ways that were more common but pleasantly contrasting, nonetheless.

on the trek back from lzr, possible options included more storefront rejection, attending indescribable street performances, and getting into a 1am show impossibly early to ensure the elimination of the other options. choosing the latter, we took our dazed state to elysium to discuss what had just occurred, and generally remain motionless in preparation for pittsburgh's finest entertainer. for me, events occurring between our arrival at the club and girl talk's arrival on stage seemed both unimportant and blurred. once his set started, however, i was taken to a state previously unvisited during the trip. girl talk's expert blend of contrasting genres served as a microcosm to the place in my memory occupied by this intense show, in reference to the festival as a whole. people danced, screamed, and generally had the sort of experience they had dreamed of earlier in the week. saturday, yes saturday, was a good night in austin.

f rid ay

friday brought about an unfortunate dependency on luck (hidden), scheduling (puzzling), and other influences (distant) most often held back by intelligence (check) or greed (also check). you know, like the french tax allocation structure. subpar afternoon basketball only occasionally brought itself to dramatic moments, while even they turned sour with disappointing outcomes. team mascots (tiki gods from texas), statistical probabilities (regression models not included), and commentator qualifications (non-existent) were discussed ad nauseam. all of this seemed ok at the time. the waitstaff's early manhattan-like treatment (slight hints of disdain) of our early dinner decision slowly turned to decent service and better food. the scene moved from dinner to random bars to church (yes, in that order). thomas dybdahl provided a glorious and calming performance that seemed to quiet the city for just a moment. unfortunately, we had hit a highlight for the evening. a few unsuccessful attempts at promising venues led us out; to the outer circles of the city, to fairly forgettable music, to good liquor, and to uncrowded surroundings. somewhere between that point and saturday; mba students from berkely, invitations to go elsewhere (i expect to be approached in such a way), a series of club venues with a series of strong drinks (vodka remained popular). suggestions directed my way included berkely's business school supremacy, questions of limited artistic background, and the sharing of hotel beds. each was denied accordingly.

sxsw 07 fri/sat roundup

i figure i’d better write this before i forget what happened three days ago. i can usually remember specific things well but large detail-less chunks escape me constantly in as few as twelve hours.

friday, the weakest of the three days lineup-wise, had no pleasant surprises in store for us. there was one highlight, however. thomas dybdahl played a moving set inside a pin-drop-quiet presbyterian church. it was both strange and comforting to sit in a pew during “love story”, and the acoustics were terrific. the night began going downhill when we were denied from the polyvinyl showcase, featuring headlights and saturday looks good to me among others. we decided to head back to lambert’s to catch the canadian chad vangaalen. however, upon arrival we heard he got stopped at the border (which border is uncertain) and would not be in attendance. i’m of the opinion it was the texas-oklahoma border for trying to smuggle in cold. regardless we watched the cape may, wholly average band, play straightforward rock while we downed vodka-sodas. after deciding to leave, the rest of the night was spent hanging out with business school students from u.c. berkeley at a variety of places. i am not victor ward would be better at explaining how (i still don’t know) we hooked up with them and giving any descriptions of the physical or spiritual nature. one thing i am sure of, though, is that berkeley’s business school gained national ranking as the night wore on, until finally i believe it eclipsed harvard business school when it was mentioned in conversation.

the luck of the irish was with us on saturday even though i am native american and ianvw is part Italian (the good part). by far my favorite night, we began by trying (and failing) to see both the kings of leon in stubb’s and field music at beauty bar. normally this would have ruined my night as you know my feelings on the overall vortex of cool around the kings. however, the lineups were so strong everywhere that night that we ended up going to our old faithful la zona rosa on fourth street. it is off the hipster-beaten path so it is never at capacity. mew played early, making majestic progressive rock so pretty that it reminded me of seeing sigur ros live. the lead singer, jonas, has an angelic voice and an amazing range. they also had some arty video playing in the background which added to the splendid mood. next was eisley the majority-girl band from dention, texas. they played some new stuff, and their harmonies worked well, but following a far superior band hurt their effect on me a bit. their melodies and guitar parts were simple and clean. overall, they were fine. we next decided to see if elysium, this dirty alt-divey bar was still under capacity for the late show who was girl talk, of course. they were, and we made a decision to stay there even though we’d not heard of the bands playing before him. after some idle conversation and rolling rock green light we made our way to the stage to hear 65daysofstatic, an avant-garde band from england. for a mostly instrumental set they were surprisingly good. lots of tempo changes and electronic sections balanced out hard distorted guitars and a feverish percussion section. if this makes any sense, their chaotic beauty conveyed a sense of serenity. finally, girl talk’s laptop supplied the cap to the night’s great music. his a.d.d. blending of numerous samples at once is always enough to get everyone moving. he appeared a little tired but proceeded to rock the crowd anyway, who, as is traditional, rushed the stage and danced with him. personally, i just love letting go to pop music. hall & oates never sounded better than when fused with daft punk and m.i.a.

the best performances of the weekend go to mew and menomena, with mew edging out the west coast trio mostly because of atmosphere. i am still undecided as to whether this year was better than last. but i am certain that i wouldn’t trade it for anything.

t hursd ay

a summary of thursday: things were "fast paced", people got confused, nothing slowed down, convenience was lost, the music stopped all of it, confusion re-emerged, it blended with the remaining music, drinking continued to make it all less of an issue, people muttered words like "pretentious" and filled in the blanks of phrases negatively describing the "___st set change i've ever seen".

i know that lambert's has the look and feel of a place best experienced often, and in large doses. i also know that snowden fits the same description. the confluence of the two provided a glorious and required snapshot of both physiological and psychological enlightenment to a day that had already experienced airport sports bars (yawn), questionable hotel arrangements (whatever), mistake-filled directions to liquid alcohol spoken in spanish (frustrating), broken cab commitments resulting in a multi-mile commute (predictable), and starving but attractive residents of pennsylvania waiting in line for food best sold to people other than us (finally). the set was fantastic.

leaving lamberts led us to soho lounge (mostly hip) and citay (painfully unattractive, instantly forgettable), where communication breakdowns transformed my trip downstairs into a one-way decision out of the show that had apparently been overfilled during the five minute conversation i had with a mostly sexy group of british teens outside of the women's bathroom. failed attempts of using charm, money, and logic on the staff managed to nonetheless leave me in a crowd less than patiently waiting to get back in. i left. time spent wandering 6th street included witness to a few arrests, random drinks in random bars, and a call from t. price.

buffalo billiards, site of the barsuk showcase, was his destination, and our chance to reconnect. aquaduct (seattle address, limited appeal) has a web address that lies. afterwards, menomena (great sound, captivating presentation) disappointed only in taking an hour to prep for a 20 minute set. we stared, moved, and applauded in unison throughout the abbreviated but powerful performance, even as college boys drunk on pabst did their best to crush the atmosphere. fucking kids, lacking both a sense of awareness and an ability towards action. briefly i considered the joy of fracturing eye sockets. the consequences, however, seemed inconvenient. having been awake for 26 hours straight, the chosen alternative was a cab back to the hotel (victory), late night diner food (again, whatever), and sleep. thursdays are like that.

sxsw 07 thursday roundup

after arriving in austin and finding it mostly the same as we left it last year we checked in to our hotel and began an hour-long video-game-like scavenger hunt to find rum. we talked to no less than four people, each directing us to the next place with assurances that we could find what we were looking for. all we found, however, was disappointment. eventually we found a liquor store like an oasis in the texas desert. after that inauspicious beginning we headed downtown to see some showcases. the first venue we attended was lambert's, a two-story bar a couple streets back from sixth. i really liked the place as it was clean and wood-funished, reminding me of a d.c. bar only less dirty. panda & angel and snowden played, with snowden clearly being the focus of everyone's attention. they put on a great show, playing about half the songs from anti-anti. as a southern band they sound distinctly northern (i mean that as a compliment). next we headed to soho lounge to see deerhunter and do, make, say, think. however, after leaving the upstairs show area, i am not victor ward was not let back up due to their well-run door policy so we decided to go to buffalo billiards to see menomena, the supposed next-big-thing from the west instead. buffalo is a deceptively big two-story bar and a great place to see live music. however, an hour-long set change at 1 a.m. detracted from the ambience of menomena's set and made the drunken crowd a little restless. they still played very well, mixing alto and baritone saxaphones along with keyboards, guitar, bass, drums, and xylophone between their three members. all in all i had a great time even though we didn't make any new discoveries band-wise.

germ free music

i have developed a strong affection for purell hand sanitizer. i’m going through like a bottle a month. luckily i’ve been discreet about it and there have been no interventions just yet. i am a fully functional person. i’m just worried that someone is going to smell the alcohol on me one of these days. which is why i’ve started drinking to hide the smell on my hands. i am slightly worried about the three ounce limit on my flight to austin. however, if i run out of sanitizer and panic i supposed i can always soak my hands in scotch.

over thinking...

a few days away from south by southwest, which has left me in the uncomfortable position of "consistently there", with regards to the office. daylight savings time has affected each of us, though not nearly to the extent that advertisers had imagined. marketing experts refer to this as an oversell, though i would be much more inclined to reference the obvious impact of disappointment over life's other elements. the dow continues to fluctuate, which is to say that there are some things best left unnoticed over small periods of time. i have friends that use terms such as "hard to ignore" and "fascinating" in such situations, and i'm beginning to feel as though few are getting the point. perhaps i'm not trying hard enough, which has been suggested on at least forty-six different occasions. my concern lessens accordingly.

austin's most appealing trait leading in to the extended weekend is its firm stance on the opposite side of where i am asked to operate in most decision-making situations. my days are full of a choice between lackluster options, with a false but necessary belief in the fact that a correct choice will lead to optimal (fulfilling, even?) return on my perceived level of risk. this, of course, is one of the largest fucking lies one can buy into, regardless of necessity. this weekend, however, i aim to be faced with an already determined outline of positive choices, with little or no consequence separating the good from the good. that is to say that the decision is easy, because the decision is meaningless. happiness is guaranteed, at least in principle. think what you'd like, but anticipation of this kind is assured of validation.

over time...

decisions were made that included moving to the west coast, not moving to the west coast, moving to the south, followed by an array of details hindering finality on the issue. impending marriage does not in itself bring complication, and while i have been admirably successful in avoiding such fate, the challenges are mounting. i'm not concerned.

two dinner parties in manhattan, on consecutive thursdays, which i found to be oddly coincidental in a way that intrigued absolutely nobody. i have a way of avoiding business conversation at such events, which may be a legally questionable habit considering the manner of expensing certain costs. fortunately this, along with a host of other legally questionable (or considerably less so) habits, seem to be preserving the sense of youth i had termed as "fleeting" only a short time ago. mostly i spent a week intrigued by the staying power of the skinny tie, though for reasons much more closely aligned with spring hair trends than psychological consistencies among males under the age of 30.

a relocation decision was completed, which is to say that obstacles disappeared to a place certain to haunt me in the coming months. charlote, north carolina proved victorious, which garnered mixed emotions from those hoping for more out of me. early thoughts on the matter included nascar, entry-level i-bankers with degrees in "business" from the university of south carolina, and the false impression that the beach is only miles away. it isn't. less precipitation and more sun, however, coupled with a housing market that places me in a category of habitation-related omnipotence, has lessened the blow.

austin is less than a week away, which garners emotions better left for future comment. nascar has again entered my thoughts, which always leads me to the same course of action; vodka, expensive shoes, and the notion that those out with me need everything that i have. tonight should be worth experiencing live.

new pron

this bath-keeper (via prettier than napoleon) is well ahead of his time. he writes:

I once opened a bath in al-Ma'arrah in order to earn my living. To this bath there came a Frankish knight. The Franks disapprove of girding a cover around one's waist while in the bath. So this Frank stretched out his arm and pulled off my cover from my waist and threw it away. He looked and saw that I had recently shaved off my pubes. So he shouted, "Salim!" As I drew near, him he stretched his hand over my pubes and said, "Salim, good! By the truth of my religion, do the same for me." Saying this, he lay on his back and I found that in that place the hair was like his beard. So I shaved it off. Then he passed his hand over the place and, finding it smooth, he said, "Salim, by the truth of my religion, do the same to madame [al-dama]" (al-dama in their language means the lady), referring to his wife. He then said to a servant of his, "Tell madame to come here." Accordingly the servant went and brought her and made her enter the bath. She also lay on her back. The knight repeated, "Do what thou hast done tome." So I shaved all that hair while her husband was sitting looking at me. At last he thanked me and handed me the pay for my service.

hairless is the new hot, and the act of removing hair is the new porn. it gets me much more excited than other things. i also find girls are much more willing to do things when i use the phrase “by the truth of my religion”. however, my religion is, of course, scientology.

conversation no. 43

p: so how do i know if i’m in love?

t: that question is your answer.

p: no, really. don’t give me some abstract statement. help me.

t: there are two types of people in the world. there are those that care very much what others wear during sex and those that don’t. it is totally dividing, and there is little-to-no crossing of the line. those that care tend to get really annoyed at partial nudity, as if you can’t bring fashion into the bedroom. the most frequent offender is socks, but wristbands, fedoras, kerchiefs, and things of this nature all inspire ire amongst those types. if you and this girl are on different sides of this dividing issue, there is no way it will work out.

p: that doesn’t answer my question at all.

t: exactly.

my weekend

after reading political articles this weekend as a form of self torture i realize that i’m not sure where i stand. am i left of the righties, or moderately liberal? the answer is “neither”, unless apathy is the new passion. everyone has an agenda but me. perhaps i am the new radical. i feel the music in you. you only get what you give.

drear

the weather is a tease. i get up and walk to the window, look outward for an indeterminate time, and return to the seat which bears my name. every time the colors are muted. every time they are the same shade of sepia. i was told today that i should push forward, that good things lie on the horizon. i was told that good things come to those who wait. the ides are approaching, and with them sunbeams.

frost

running barefoot
in the rain on tuesday, oh betty

singing freestyle
out the car window, oh sally

these things
winter takes away, oh jenny

tell mary
to wake me in may

untitled

i look at you and i laugh a laugh of cautious happiness. it is more like ragtime and less like jazz. it is unsustainable though, one of the many things that won’t last long enough. when the sound fades the memory is already distorted. was it really ragtime or was it blues? how can i be sure? i write to counteract. to preserve the unpreservable. ink is embalming fluid but already the body has decomposed. the current is entropic and the struggle hopeless.

clubbing in the a.m.

the gym on a saturday
a live dj
non-regulars
some monitors left black
others displaying a kids network

hearing "um-cha um-cha"
seeing "spongebob: nooooooo!"
feeling confused
feeling frustrated
feeling motivated

someone is asking
what do you do?
she's well dressed
i notice the time
the speakers transition to celine
a remix of sorts
this is the weekend

balance

we are a people of inequality. we love rank and class. and when we run out of legitimate things with which to rank ourselves we find things well beyond our own control. our freedom is the freedom to keep things unbalanced. it is no surprise that it would be that way because on one side of our scale lies human nature in its obesity, and on the other lies that unnatural abortion labeled “common good”. my nutritionist doubts my diet will be changing anytime soon.

impressions of nothing

i meet this guy
this girl
most people
at the gym
in the plane
wherever

mostly, i wonder
why you?
why now?
fix this

mostly, i'm thinking
i detest approximation
i need multi-dimensional
i'm so fucking bored with you

typ

j: want to get out of here?
p. and go where?
j: anywhere.
p: not here?
j: that’s not really what i had in mind.
p: so where then?
j: across the street, my house, to a deli?
p: i have liquor and diet snapple and half a bagel at my place.
j: got a toaster?
p: oven.
j: i’m there.

the obvious: restated

britney's out of her fucking mind
write that down

ignore the shaved head
the ink
the kids

i need to see more
or in her case
considerably less

acknowledgement

it is both poor form and a shirking of responsibility to blame one’s own failures on alcohol. is it not, then, fair to leave liquor uncredited for it’s role in the creation of certain prose? i assume most writers think so, as i have never yet seen it mentioned, and i am an avid reader of acknowledgements. i am, however, of the old-fashioned mindset that quantifiable sources must be credited.

p.s. thanks to frank bartles and ed jaymes.

contrarily

here is what is so funny about this situation. the more i am denied something, the more i want it for the sake of getting it. even if the end result is worse than the beginning condition. i have the potential to regress substantially given the right set of circumstances. and i will relish it as a conscious choice to buck logic. for those whose religion is rationality, this sort of thing feels like free falling while on fizzy narcotics. or love.

friday again and again

it’s friday. i have complete freedom. i can used fabric softener on my taupe-colored laundry. or not. i can listen to the same song again and again and again and again and then listen to a different song with the same chord basis but an altogether different singer. anything goes! except this vague feeling of anticipation. that never goes.

kol

is anyone else terrified of what will be on kings of leon’s new album? because of the times could single handedly make or break my april, which is a pivotal month in transitioning from pants to shorts. from their website:

…Because Of The Times (the title refers to an annual preachers’ conference the boys attended growing up) contains Kings of Leon’s first-ever album track that clocks in at longer than five minutes (“Knocked Up”), the first song with vocal effects (“On Call”), and the first one you could verifiably call an arena-rock anthem (“Black Thumbnail”). Then there’s the breakneck “McFearless,” the chiming “Ragoo,” the scuzzy “Charmer,” and the waltzing “The Runner”

the first single is “on call”, and although i like it i am wary as it lies in the gap that they had successfully wedged between themselves and everyone else with their first two albums. i am worried that their new-found eclecticism may not tread new ground but instead the worn paths of others. the words “arena-rock” also scare me like the thought of naked clowns. there is so much potential here. aha shake heartbreak is one of my favorite albums of all time. i’m not sure i can deal with a letdown.

intra-state reflection

last weekend was spent in the past
going "home" often is

saturday night proved satisfying
visiting the home of t.price
good music
quality alcohol
and a rubik's cube

a friend argued virtues
of old music
of old ideas
of history
to him
the past is all that we have

it used to be
that others made choices for you
that good was the same as great
that what you heard was all that existed

observing now
that there is less good
that we need to decide
that intelligence is necessary

progress
independence
i'm ok with this

eating soap

i have noticed over the years that people tend to forget much of beginning and middle of events and recall their end in much more detail than any other part. this is partly due to temporal concerns, of course, but even with short duration events the last thing one sees/feels seems to be etched more clearly in memory. that is why it is important to make a good last impression. while “firsts” are the things that make life worth living, “lasts” are the things that make life bearable in between. i devote a good deal of thought to last impressions. i like to leave others with a good taste in their mouth. dry, nutty, and just the slightest hint of fruit.

another sxsw post

the 2007 austin music festival’s lineup has finally been announced. i am especially excited to see these bands:

a band of bees, beach house, the apes, cold war kids, the dears, dosh, do make say think, thomas dybdahl, field music, girl talk, grand buffet, emily haines, headlights, the honorary title, junior senior, lily allen, limbeck, panda & angel, saturday looks good to me, snowden, someone still loves you boris yeltsin, the walkmen

i will not, of course, get to see them all, but this is like christmas to me. only instead of being about the birth of santa, it is about how music isn’t dead yet. which is a very real reason to cling to a bit of hope. and get drunk at the same time.

purity

…however, i can’t help but think that every time i walk by some shitty bar playing alt-country a small piece of that moment rubs off on me. if we are the sum of our experiences then this prospect frightens me, as bad art tends to stick in my head for as long a time as good art. i want to be pure. i want to have knowledge of something without it changing me. i want to be immune…

i-fficiency

and the easiest way to learn that your favorite acoustic nickelback song will be coming live to a stage near you...>

dead soda

as a teenager i used to put an empty surge can in the middle of the snow and then yell, “surge!” and race to it, eventually diving for victory. i’ll grant that it would have been sweeter if i’d have had any friends to race with. but not only was surge a great drink, it was the most extreme soda of the late nineties (sorry faygo). that is why i enjoyed this article about dead sodas so much. i remember almost all of them. and, yes, i too was an orbitz poser for a while. of course this was all before it became hip to be square, before i gave up soda for diet snapple, heineken light, and occasionally pomegranate juice.

mondays are best for unpackaging small items

today, at the store
i'm buying almonds
unsalted
dry roasted
a must for muscle development

candy is available in the same section
per piece
people steal it
per piece

today, a girl
beige burberry scarf
same as me
grey pinstripe pants
same as me
dark hair, wide collar, confident stare
same as me

she takes something
wrapped
chocolate
i'm thinking
you're not nearly hot enough for this
i'm thinking
things aren't always what they appear

rap ture

i went to the rex last night with mikey and rebecca, and we met up with d.e. and her friend. i was delightfully buzzed in a happy purgatory between sober and drunk, which was an ideal state for whiteboy dancing. i was also happy because i hadn’t hung out with rebecca in a while, and seeing the rapture is the perfect thing to do in her company. the best realization of the night was that d.e. is just as fun to hang out with in person as she is to hang out with in your mind. the next best is that i totally didn’t look out of place dancing poorly at the show. luke and the boys played all their great tunes, and i even got to sleep in a bed last night.

*update* i almost forgot to relate the fact that luke eye-checked me and pointed his guitar right at me during the show. this was probably either because he could see the coolness and liquor emanating from me or because he recognized me from the topless photos i sent to him. finally.

paris-rama

the tapes (one here) taken from paris hilton’s storage locker are difficult to sit through, mostly due to her voice. but that doesn’t mean that i skipped over one minute of the hours of night-mode footage. it’s oddly entrancing, like some sort of bizarro glamorama with less good-looking people. paris is totally the allison character, and the dude doing blow off his stomach could easily be bentley. while i neither condone nor endorse this type of behavior, i have to admit i’d most likely fall into that pointless lifestyle given the opportunity. it is, after all, the american dream (if we still have that ability).

important checkpoints on dimly lit roads

i am nearing the attainment of my recently targeted hair style
others seem impressed
they look.
they nod.
they ask.

it's possible that i don't provide what they are searching for
after all, what is there to say?
(refreshing) i know.
(impressive) of course.
(i'm actually...) you can't.
(but for you...) inevitably.

everyone competes somewhere
some attempt everywhere
it would be much simpler if that were the extent of it
it would be much simpler if we had the script ahead of time

taking is the new giving

people are no longer impressed
you need to prove that you can help
when innovation is expected
relevance reigns supreme

the details have become...irrelevant

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.