Yes, the following has been said will have been said many, many times. I want it to be spring, I want my warm weather. This is the twilight of my fucking youth, April brings adulthood and the cold is keeping me inside. I need to be taking people out to fields to lay and read. The same people need to come with me to sit and chat by the river side. Then lay and nap by the river side. I'm digging a hole with expressing my emotions. I shouldn't have to. Random: I saw the Shins in 2003 before Chutes and Garden State. They were opening for Guided by Voices (who I'm listening to this second) at the Magnet Magazine 10th Anniversary show. This was probably one of the trendiest moments of my life, seeing a soon to be lauded charttopping delight of a band, opening for underdog lo-fi greats at a show organized by and for a just as great independent rock and roll bi-monthly. I love Magnet, I love Philadelphia. I'm wondering if Magnet takes interns just out of high school. If so, I'm doing it, I can't wait. I don't want to bore you with hopes for my future because I know how I feel when people do that...not good, sorry if I offended you, reader. Also, I love popular musical brilliance, such as the kind found in people like Robert Pollard, Britt Daniel and Jeff Tweedy (except for that bullshit new album of his, fuck!).
I've discovered in me this out of control fire that is a love of life and with that pain and...haha I'll stop because it really doesn't matter. It's not even anything new. It's just that things have been really fun lately outside of school except now I work with this girl who may or may not smoke crack and definitely has STDs and sexual relationships with men twice her age. It makes me feel dirtier and I find myself telling her to leave early, there's nothing to do. She's a few months younger than me by the way, and she doesn't go to school anymore. But yeah, work and school aside (well even work is great, Matt Anderson is sticking around. Matt is three years older than me and I've known him since I was in kindergarten at St. Patrick. His sister's used to babysit), I have fun with a core group of friends that are often mixed or separated. Everyone listens to really good music, feels the same way about life and does things that are worthy of putting down in writing.
28.1.08
27.1.08
Can't You Feel the Knife? Or, Not Knowing What To Do: Wherein I Say Something and You React
"I've been dusted in the dark up in Penetration Park/And I've been plastered. I've been shaking hard/and searching in a dirty storefront church."
-The Hold Steady: "Your Little Hoodrat Friend"
Sometimes, I think it'd be really cool if my life were a little more like a Hold Steady song. I think that it's not probably because I don't drink enough or do any drugs. I mean I drink, but Craig Finn's characters drink.
Haha, I find myself in this absurd amount of unrequited love. I think I took the whole F. Scott Fitzgerald thing way too far. So I'm writing about it in an actual notebook to maybe exhume some of these lingering ladies. Like, it's just ridiculous. Maybe I'll let you read it. All names will probably be changed, of course.
This evening was a dual celebration of sisterly birthdays. The Kalmbach Girls', Kara and Alexa, birthdays are sometime around now. It was a cleverly executed surprise. I'm broke, so I burned Alexa Boys and Girls in America by the aforementioned Hold Steady (which admittedly I'm incredibly late on the train for) and constructed a mix for Kara (something I find myself doing a lot lately for people and myself.) I hope she listens close, it goes something like this:
1. Panda Bear-Comfy In Nautica
2. The Clash-1977
3. Spank Rock-Bump (ft. Amanda Blank)
4. 12 Rods-Make Out Music
5. Patrick Wolf-Accident & Emergency
6. Yo La Tengo-Don't Have To Be So Sad
7. Stephen Malkmus and Jicks-(Do Not Feed The) Oyster
8. The Wrens-Faster Gun
9. Be Your Own PET-We Will Vacation, You Can Be My Parasol
10. The Hold Steady-Your Little Hoodrat Friend
11. Belle and Sebastian-You're Just A Baby
12. The Streets-Hotel Expressionism
13. Pinback-Fortress
14. X-The World's A Mess, It's In My Kiss
15. Grizzly Bear-Knife
16. Liz Phair-May Queen
The evening was full of dancing, cake, sweat, my cold nipples, boys in boxers in a hot tub (myself not included), Unionville shadesters, a kid who looks like the bassist/singer from one of this year's faves Tokyo Police Club, at least one conversation that left me embarassed with tail between legs and so much more. My knees and shins are killing me from all the robot-ecstasy-IDM-b-boy moves executed to the likes of Daft Punk, The Thermals, M.I.A., Justice, Rihanna, Pixeltan... Oh, how we are hip!
-The Hold Steady: "Your Little Hoodrat Friend"
Sometimes, I think it'd be really cool if my life were a little more like a Hold Steady song. I think that it's not probably because I don't drink enough or do any drugs. I mean I drink, but Craig Finn's characters drink.
Haha, I find myself in this absurd amount of unrequited love. I think I took the whole F. Scott Fitzgerald thing way too far. So I'm writing about it in an actual notebook to maybe exhume some of these lingering ladies. Like, it's just ridiculous. Maybe I'll let you read it. All names will probably be changed, of course.
This evening was a dual celebration of sisterly birthdays. The Kalmbach Girls', Kara and Alexa, birthdays are sometime around now. It was a cleverly executed surprise. I'm broke, so I burned Alexa Boys and Girls in America by the aforementioned Hold Steady (which admittedly I'm incredibly late on the train for) and constructed a mix for Kara (something I find myself doing a lot lately for people and myself.) I hope she listens close, it goes something like this:
1. Panda Bear-Comfy In Nautica
2. The Clash-1977
3. Spank Rock-Bump (ft. Amanda Blank)
4. 12 Rods-Make Out Music
5. Patrick Wolf-Accident & Emergency
6. Yo La Tengo-Don't Have To Be So Sad
7. Stephen Malkmus and Jicks-(Do Not Feed The) Oyster
8. The Wrens-Faster Gun
9. Be Your Own PET-We Will Vacation, You Can Be My Parasol
10. The Hold Steady-Your Little Hoodrat Friend
11. Belle and Sebastian-You're Just A Baby
12. The Streets-Hotel Expressionism
13. Pinback-Fortress
14. X-The World's A Mess, It's In My Kiss
15. Grizzly Bear-Knife
16. Liz Phair-May Queen
The evening was full of dancing, cake, sweat, my cold nipples, boys in boxers in a hot tub (myself not included), Unionville shadesters, a kid who looks like the bassist/singer from one of this year's faves Tokyo Police Club, at least one conversation that left me embarassed with tail between legs and so much more. My knees and shins are killing me from all the robot-ecstasy-IDM-b-boy moves executed to the likes of Daft Punk, The Thermals, M.I.A., Justice, Rihanna, Pixeltan... Oh, how we are hip!
23.1.08
I Am Comment Hear Me Roar
I think in the big picture what I've been almost constantly angry with is high school. I could go into greater detail and then I could talk about how contradicting it is that I don't want to grow up but I can't wait to graduate but you know all of that. Instead, I will talk about how I like to release my anger sometimes.
The Fucking Animal Collective.
It begins. Their name will just pop into my head. I then go on Pitchfork and read about how much they love them. Then, I go to YouTube and watch the video for "Peacebone." I start commenting. "Fuck this fucking band, why are they such critical darlings!" "It grows on me, until that fuck Avey Tare (wtf name?!?!?!) starts having a seizure over that stupid squelching synth loop!" "What kind of drugs do I need to take before I enjoy this bullshit?" "Why don't I like this band? Three things right off the bat: their stupid fucking names, their stupid fucking lyrics and their bad taste in clothing." "Who's that jackass with the headlamp? GEOLOGIST?! Fuck that!!" And on and on and on...until they are snubbed six times by overzealous AC fans protecting their lil critters. I hate this band so much. I hate this band so much. I hate this band so much. They don't make any sense. To me.
The Fucking Animal Collective.
It begins. Their name will just pop into my head. I then go on Pitchfork and read about how much they love them. Then, I go to YouTube and watch the video for "Peacebone." I start commenting. "Fuck this fucking band, why are they such critical darlings!" "It grows on me, until that fuck Avey Tare (wtf name?!?!?!) starts having a seizure over that stupid squelching synth loop!" "What kind of drugs do I need to take before I enjoy this bullshit?" "Why don't I like this band? Three things right off the bat: their stupid fucking names, their stupid fucking lyrics and their bad taste in clothing." "Who's that jackass with the headlamp? GEOLOGIST?! Fuck that!!" And on and on and on...until they are snubbed six times by overzealous AC fans protecting their lil critters. I hate this band so much. I hate this band so much. I hate this band so much. They don't make any sense. To me.
A Conflict Of Posthumous Interest
Are we ignorant for making an actor's death into headlines and tears? Mimi and I didn't even come close to knowing the person that was Heath Ledger and yet tonight we found ourselves consoling each other in front of Ten Things I Hate About You. We were doing this while people lose actual loved ones or are still dwelling on those that have passed. I felt bad, briefly, until I realized the death of a person of note like Ledger kind of creates this collective mourning that accounts for all the times one hasn't mourned for someone else. So, maybe, Mimi and I were also one with some Californian who lost their sibling in a car accident. Something like that. We all mourn as individuals, but as a unit when it comes to something like this. Princess Diana's death was especially collective, observed on a global scale. Celebrity drama might seem trivial to some but to the majority I guess it's something we find solace in when there are no other kinds of people.
Like I said I watched Ten Things tonight and it's still one of those great teen movies that managed to transcend teen movies. You should watch it, he's so cool in it. It's this rugged Australian thing...urbane and gentlemanly while remaining a true badass. :/
Like I said I watched Ten Things tonight and it's still one of those great teen movies that managed to transcend teen movies. You should watch it, he's so cool in it. It's this rugged Australian thing...urbane and gentlemanly while remaining a true badass. :/
22.1.08
At Least Ten People Will Miss You,
Heath Ledger. Why do people do these things? Heath was found dead earlier today in an NYC apartment. It's kind of weird to think about. I love the movie Ten Things I Hate About You and his former flame Michelle Williams (with whom he had one daughter.) :(
21.1.08
Disservice
I'm going to bed feeling like the average bad American citizen. Today was Martin Luther King Jr. Day and I didn't do anything about it. He was awesome, yeah, everyone knows that. He did more than any of us will ever accomplish collectively. Today, we are kind of regressing, losing his gains. But I can't say why that is or what exactly it was that King did in his lifetime. I feel really bad about this. Like, why can't we learn more about the Civil Rights movement in school? Then again I do go to school with primarily upper middle class white playboys, but that's another story. Sorry, MLK. You worked wonders, apparently, and I will make it a project to learn more about you. Perhaps if you were born in spring I'd be more ready to go out and do something for the community/human race. The warm weather just gets the activist-juices flowing. Once again, sorry MLK. :(
"I did a lot more than just have dreams, Joe Gallagher! Shame! Shame on YOU!"
"I did a lot more than just have dreams, Joe Gallagher! Shame! Shame on YOU!"
Summerholidays Vs. Punkroutine
Wow! Let me tell you a little about my weekend. Some of it will be in the vein of "I did this, then that." Some of it will be more interesting to outside parties. And I have no pictures of it. So bear with me.
As usual, I worked until 7 on Friday night. My work schedule is unwavering unless I take off. Tuesday after school-6, Wednesday off, Thursday after school-6, Friday after school-7, Saturday 9:30ish-4. Sundays, Mondays closed. Just in case you wanted to know. I'm really bad at slicing cold-cuts, too. Alex Tack came to the butcher shortly before closing time as this was the plan. My mom picked he, my sister and I up and we drove directly to the movies to see Juno. It would be Alex and I's second time. We got there and it was chaotic. My mom waited in line for the traditional booth-method of purchasing tickets, while we the young and initiated waited in line for the compukioskticketmachine that can be tricked into giving us inexpensive tickets. The idea was that, having two groups in two places, we would minimize waiting by effectively being in two different places at once. Wow. It was our turn at the kiosk, we got to the tickets before mom, but Juno, amazingly, was sold out. So in an effort to further subvert the system, I elected to buy four children's tickets to 27 Dresses. We would later proceed from the ticket collector to the Juno auditorium and enjoy the movie from the comfort of the floor. It had been done before (Ratatouille.) Mom my though, waiting in line now for concessions, was thinking sensibly and told us that they probably would catch us, so we left Regal Shitheaters and went to Grotto to take out a fucking delicious pizza. I ate a lot of it. We watched Grand Theft Parsons as a family-unit even though dad was absent (No Country for Old Men for the second time) and Alex was a welcome edition. I took him home after that and a cup of coffee (so as not to fall asleep at the wheel) and on a whim and after leaving a very quiet Gabby P. (how do you spell my coworker's last name?) a long, meandering, typically coherently incoherent voicemail, I went to Robert Ohman's to join him, Miles Fricker and Matt Foulk. My planned five minute stay turned into over an hour. It was true delight - sitting in a turned-off automobile and bullshitting. Plus a comfy chair and Swedish electronica. Home, for Soulseeking, then to bed after reading all of half a page from Orthodoxy.
Saturday was less of an event. After work, I didn't take a nap like I promised myself. Instead, I showered, sat around for a long time in my boxers (becoming more of a habit. I think it has to do with the soulsucking of winter.) and began working on a new mix for Miss Morris. I called Kara Kalmbach to invite her along to that evening's night of one-act plays at my school. She obliged, so I dropped my sister off to babysit in north Wilmington and headed to Golgotha. When we pulled into a parking spot, I turned up "He War" really loud and we kind of danced in our seats, in the heat. A kid pulls into a spot kind of in front of ours, steps out of his car, then hears our loud music. Thinking he would be doing something cool (but lacking our spontaneity), he went back into his car and started blaring what I describe as an edgier, heavier Nickelback, maybe in some kind of form of one-upping us. I didn't really get it and it kind of made me sad. We snuck into the auditorium, saving us a collective ten dollars, and caught the last few minutes of something silly. This kid Greg Fleming was in it and I like him. He's a junior and is in my journalism class. One time, Harrison Fertig and I were at the SATs and because of the alphabet, he was in our testing room. We tried to socialize with him at break but um, he just wasn't having it, leaving us wondering if it really was the Phlegm. Kara and I spoke briefly to Nick Bradley before heading to our seats, on the way saying hello to the principal and picking up Eddie Dillon. The next play was also something silly, but slightly rewarding for the cutie narrator in a polka-dot dress and a funny watered down sex scene. The next was called Having No Words and was a really clever, almost adult play written by a student from a sister school. I really would like to meet her. It was kind of Dave Eggers with a vagina, so Miranda July-ish with a twist of the ethereal. It was my favorite of the night. The worst was next, Smoker's Hill, written by Eric Austin who is my opposite and I find myself hollering at him in class. He's one of those smarmy atheists GK Chesterton and I infuriate and are infuriated by. The kind who have no imagination and to them life just "is" and there are no great mysteries. The play started off kind of good actually. The scenario was a nerdy kid and a badass girl, who was, surprise, smoking. She was kind of giving him a hard time but she is suddenly intrigued when he blurts out that he is sure he's Jesus. She then asks him all these questions which made her really likable but he kind of got annoying. Especially since he was a product of Eric's head, so he was eschewing all this really obvious symbolism/parallels (he got chained naked to a goalpost by seven tough guys). He was like the reverse of Eric in a way: Jesus trapped inside a scientist instead of the science minded asshat trapped inside a Catholic school. After that kind of cute q and a, Eric comes in and acts a hard-ass which was LAUGHABLE, especially when he "pushed the boundaries" by calling "Jesus" a faggot. It was SO OBVIOUSLY a vehicle for Eric to LITERALLY "BEAT UP JESUS." Wow.
I went to bed late and finished Anna's mix and AIMed it up with her. I slept in. Mimi woke me up at 12:30 and I told her right away to turn on my radio so I could catch the end of This American Life. My mom came in and was all like come on, let's clean! She thrust me right into this frustrating, impossible job of downsizing my shit. I called it off after five minutes. "Look, mom, you can't just do this! I just woke up!" I sat, dejected, in my boxers on my chair, surrounded by piles of clothes. Finally I got up and headed downstairs. I dicked around for awhile with the fam, still boxered, before finally showering and getting myself pysched to play and write music. All the while, I felt like my face was drowning in my own mucus. Trey came over! Made me feel better. We worked out an arrangement for a TV Dinner song, wrote lyrics for a forgotten Mediocre Egg Yolks song ("Adam Air"), tightened up our Cat Power cover, reworked "Apples"... it was all very productive. I went back to cleaning my room with Trey until Anna arrived, 6:45 on the dot! I was glad to see her. We all went to get Mexican at the new place in Kennett (across from Wawa on Cypress, GO!!!!!), picked up Trey's girlfriend, dropped them off in Somerset and then headed to the Ohaman's. Matt was there again too. We watched Ninja Warrior and listened to Swedish electronica before heading back to my abode to watch a movie. We got back, made more coffee, and decided on Final Destination. Holy shit, goddamn! It was so awesomely intense teen drorror and I loved it and it was great fun watching it with friends in a dark room with lots of blankets. Now I'm having fun making up ridiculous scenarios to die in. Next week, Final Destination 2! Not Devin Sawa!! Seann William Scott, get out of the fucking car!!! Kerr Smith is awesome!!!!
So, it's been a good weekend.
Don't you think Refused took the loud/quiet/loud concept to a whole new level?
As usual, I worked until 7 on Friday night. My work schedule is unwavering unless I take off. Tuesday after school-6, Wednesday off, Thursday after school-6, Friday after school-7, Saturday 9:30ish-4. Sundays, Mondays closed. Just in case you wanted to know. I'm really bad at slicing cold-cuts, too. Alex Tack came to the butcher shortly before closing time as this was the plan. My mom picked he, my sister and I up and we drove directly to the movies to see Juno. It would be Alex and I's second time. We got there and it was chaotic. My mom waited in line for the traditional booth-method of purchasing tickets, while we the young and initiated waited in line for the compukioskticketmachine that can be tricked into giving us inexpensive tickets. The idea was that, having two groups in two places, we would minimize waiting by effectively being in two different places at once. Wow. It was our turn at the kiosk, we got to the tickets before mom, but Juno, amazingly, was sold out. So in an effort to further subvert the system, I elected to buy four children's tickets to 27 Dresses. We would later proceed from the ticket collector to the Juno auditorium and enjoy the movie from the comfort of the floor. It had been done before (Ratatouille.) Mom my though, waiting in line now for concessions, was thinking sensibly and told us that they probably would catch us, so we left Regal Shitheaters and went to Grotto to take out a fucking delicious pizza. I ate a lot of it. We watched Grand Theft Parsons as a family-unit even though dad was absent (No Country for Old Men for the second time) and Alex was a welcome edition. I took him home after that and a cup of coffee (so as not to fall asleep at the wheel) and on a whim and after leaving a very quiet Gabby P. (how do you spell my coworker's last name?) a long, meandering, typically coherently incoherent voicemail, I went to Robert Ohman's to join him, Miles Fricker and Matt Foulk. My planned five minute stay turned into over an hour. It was true delight - sitting in a turned-off automobile and bullshitting. Plus a comfy chair and Swedish electronica. Home, for Soulseeking, then to bed after reading all of half a page from Orthodoxy.
Saturday was less of an event. After work, I didn't take a nap like I promised myself. Instead, I showered, sat around for a long time in my boxers (becoming more of a habit. I think it has to do with the soulsucking of winter.) and began working on a new mix for Miss Morris. I called Kara Kalmbach to invite her along to that evening's night of one-act plays at my school. She obliged, so I dropped my sister off to babysit in north Wilmington and headed to Golgotha. When we pulled into a parking spot, I turned up "He War" really loud and we kind of danced in our seats, in the heat. A kid pulls into a spot kind of in front of ours, steps out of his car, then hears our loud music. Thinking he would be doing something cool (but lacking our spontaneity), he went back into his car and started blaring what I describe as an edgier, heavier Nickelback, maybe in some kind of form of one-upping us. I didn't really get it and it kind of made me sad. We snuck into the auditorium, saving us a collective ten dollars, and caught the last few minutes of something silly. This kid Greg Fleming was in it and I like him. He's a junior and is in my journalism class. One time, Harrison Fertig and I were at the SATs and because of the alphabet, he was in our testing room. We tried to socialize with him at break but um, he just wasn't having it, leaving us wondering if it really was the Phlegm. Kara and I spoke briefly to Nick Bradley before heading to our seats, on the way saying hello to the principal and picking up Eddie Dillon. The next play was also something silly, but slightly rewarding for the cutie narrator in a polka-dot dress and a funny watered down sex scene. The next was called Having No Words and was a really clever, almost adult play written by a student from a sister school. I really would like to meet her. It was kind of Dave Eggers with a vagina, so Miranda July-ish with a twist of the ethereal. It was my favorite of the night. The worst was next, Smoker's Hill, written by Eric Austin who is my opposite and I find myself hollering at him in class. He's one of those smarmy atheists GK Chesterton and I infuriate and are infuriated by. The kind who have no imagination and to them life just "is" and there are no great mysteries. The play started off kind of good actually. The scenario was a nerdy kid and a badass girl, who was, surprise, smoking. She was kind of giving him a hard time but she is suddenly intrigued when he blurts out that he is sure he's Jesus. She then asks him all these questions which made her really likable but he kind of got annoying. Especially since he was a product of Eric's head, so he was eschewing all this really obvious symbolism/parallels (he got chained naked to a goalpost by seven tough guys). He was like the reverse of Eric in a way: Jesus trapped inside a scientist instead of the science minded asshat trapped inside a Catholic school. After that kind of cute q and a, Eric comes in and acts a hard-ass which was LAUGHABLE, especially when he "pushed the boundaries" by calling "Jesus" a faggot. It was SO OBVIOUSLY a vehicle for Eric to LITERALLY "BEAT UP JESUS." Wow.
I went to bed late and finished Anna's mix and AIMed it up with her. I slept in. Mimi woke me up at 12:30 and I told her right away to turn on my radio so I could catch the end of This American Life. My mom came in and was all like come on, let's clean! She thrust me right into this frustrating, impossible job of downsizing my shit. I called it off after five minutes. "Look, mom, you can't just do this! I just woke up!" I sat, dejected, in my boxers on my chair, surrounded by piles of clothes. Finally I got up and headed downstairs. I dicked around for awhile with the fam, still boxered, before finally showering and getting myself pysched to play and write music. All the while, I felt like my face was drowning in my own mucus. Trey came over! Made me feel better. We worked out an arrangement for a TV Dinner song, wrote lyrics for a forgotten Mediocre Egg Yolks song ("Adam Air"), tightened up our Cat Power cover, reworked "Apples"... it was all very productive. I went back to cleaning my room with Trey until Anna arrived, 6:45 on the dot! I was glad to see her. We all went to get Mexican at the new place in Kennett (across from Wawa on Cypress, GO!!!!!), picked up Trey's girlfriend, dropped them off in Somerset and then headed to the Ohaman's. Matt was there again too. We watched Ninja Warrior and listened to Swedish electronica before heading back to my abode to watch a movie. We got back, made more coffee, and decided on Final Destination. Holy shit, goddamn! It was so awesomely intense teen drorror and I loved it and it was great fun watching it with friends in a dark room with lots of blankets. Now I'm having fun making up ridiculous scenarios to die in. Next week, Final Destination 2! Not Devin Sawa!! Seann William Scott, get out of the fucking car!!! Kerr Smith is awesome!!!!
So, it's been a good weekend.
Don't you think Refused took the loud/quiet/loud concept to a whole new level?
16.1.08
Little point to this.
"Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away/wild wild horses, we'll ride them someday."
Such sadness in sexual uncertainty and an unrequited love of Gram Parsons! Well, it turned out to be alright, didn't it Mick?
Such sadness in sexual uncertainty and an unrequited love of Gram Parsons! Well, it turned out to be alright, didn't it Mick?
14.1.08
Tell Him To Run Faster, Tell Him To Jump Higher
"I learn my name/I write with a number two pencil/I work up to my potential"
-Liz Phair, "Canary"
This week, I love Liz Phair's Exile in Guyville. Maybe it's because listening to it is a more personal gender-crossing relationship than anything else I have on a daily basis. So that kind of means that when I have my headphones in and I listen to this record, I pretend that my uber-hip, quick-tongued (and I mean in more than one way lawlzlawlz), respectful-of-me-as-I-am-her and deeply personal girlfriend didn't hang out with me for two days and made Guyville instead. And it's her address to me about our relationship from start to finish and how I stack up with the other guys she's been with. It's kind of a fucked up thing to do but, haha, I hope that one day I have the dubious honor of _______ or _______ or ________ (if I really luck out) doing something similar.
Guyville is a great listen. Like, it really is one of the best albums of the 1990s/one of the best albums ever produced by a female for a reason. It's more than just her singing so bluntly about essing dees till they're blue, which she does so mundanely it's like cock is a staple of her afternoon snacking. It's that she, to me anyway, is like the first girl just to put herself out there in song. Earlier, female singer-songwriters hid behind too much poetry (that's not to say they didn't fucking rule. I love Joni Mitchell and Carole King!!!). Or like, were pop-sluts. Or there were some that weren't. But what I'm getting at is that in the early 1990s, girls were kind of extreme in music. Riot Grrrl bands are awesome, but the well-read ladies of those groups seem to be convinced that I just want to subjugate them for labor and head. And PJ Harvey, whom I also love love love dearly (especially Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea), tried to commission me to lick her injuries. Liz didn't put on a facade. She said, in song: "What's up? I'm kind of curious about you. Do you want to hang out? The Lemonheads are playing at the Metro Thursday. We could go and then maybe head back to my place. I would like to get to know you. We can take it from there." She gave rock snobs a chance! She was not on the attack! She can read our minds. All girls can. But what she did was tell us how she felt, too, so we weren't left wondering and killing ourselves with about 600 questions an hour, new ones surfacing more than constantly until you were choked with self-consciousness and doubt. She's accessible to me because it's obvious she doesn't want that. She doesn't take pleasure out of knowing that I am uncertain of her feelings and that to me is awesome.
Too bad she made two phenomenal records (one which is so underrated it should be punishable by law), one pretty damn'd good one and two really really shit ones that she will never be able to shake off. Why, Liz?
The closest you can get with teenage girls are mix CDs and Anna just gave me three of them. I have officially listened to all three; one with complete focus. I'll leave the other two for tomorrow, but the one that I have listened to with focus, the "normal" one (as opposed to the depressed one and the old skool one), is amazing and like most of the best mixes that I receive from another important female it exposes me to lots of new things and gives me a feeling almost like the one I get when I listen to that Liz Phair record. So that totally rules and snaps for Anna!
Anna if you are reading this, I am part of the school that makes short, album-length mixes. That is 12-14 songs, 39-55 minutes. So I felt kind of bad when you gave me three dazzlingly huge and amazingly sprawling mixes. I fear that you may feel cheated by my weak, 14 song 50 minute showing. So if that's the case, will you let me know in some way?
Today, I wore these pants. Now, invariably, whenever I wear these pants, Gap khakis of purest white, they are covered in coffee stains by the time I get to school. This isn't the case with any of my other khakis, all of which are darker. What does this mean?
Do you want to borrow a book?
My sister has come to blogger! The title of her blog makes me lol. It is called Oatmeal Empowerment and is located here.
What do I do when a sophomore picks a fight with me?
have a wonderfullll day or evening or afternoon or lunch and please, stay hydrated+warm.
-Liz Phair, "Canary"
This week, I love Liz Phair's Exile in Guyville. Maybe it's because listening to it is a more personal gender-crossing relationship than anything else I have on a daily basis. So that kind of means that when I have my headphones in and I listen to this record, I pretend that my uber-hip, quick-tongued (and I mean in more than one way lawlzlawlz), respectful-of-me-as-I-am-her and deeply personal girlfriend didn't hang out with me for two days and made Guyville instead. And it's her address to me about our relationship from start to finish and how I stack up with the other guys she's been with. It's kind of a fucked up thing to do but, haha, I hope that one day I have the dubious honor of _______ or _______ or ________ (if I really luck out) doing something similar.
Guyville is a great listen. Like, it really is one of the best albums of the 1990s/one of the best albums ever produced by a female for a reason. It's more than just her singing so bluntly about essing dees till they're blue, which she does so mundanely it's like cock is a staple of her afternoon snacking. It's that she, to me anyway, is like the first girl just to put herself out there in song. Earlier, female singer-songwriters hid behind too much poetry (that's not to say they didn't fucking rule. I love Joni Mitchell and Carole King!!!). Or like, were pop-sluts. Or there were some that weren't. But what I'm getting at is that in the early 1990s, girls were kind of extreme in music. Riot Grrrl bands are awesome, but the well-read ladies of those groups seem to be convinced that I just want to subjugate them for labor and head. And PJ Harvey, whom I also love love love dearly (especially Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea), tried to commission me to lick her injuries. Liz didn't put on a facade. She said, in song: "What's up? I'm kind of curious about you. Do you want to hang out? The Lemonheads are playing at the Metro Thursday. We could go and then maybe head back to my place. I would like to get to know you. We can take it from there." She gave rock snobs a chance! She was not on the attack! She can read our minds. All girls can. But what she did was tell us how she felt, too, so we weren't left wondering and killing ourselves with about 600 questions an hour, new ones surfacing more than constantly until you were choked with self-consciousness and doubt. She's accessible to me because it's obvious she doesn't want that. She doesn't take pleasure out of knowing that I am uncertain of her feelings and that to me is awesome.
Too bad she made two phenomenal records (one which is so underrated it should be punishable by law), one pretty damn'd good one and two really really shit ones that she will never be able to shake off. Why, Liz?
The closest you can get with teenage girls are mix CDs and Anna just gave me three of them. I have officially listened to all three; one with complete focus. I'll leave the other two for tomorrow, but the one that I have listened to with focus, the "normal" one (as opposed to the depressed one and the old skool one), is amazing and like most of the best mixes that I receive from another important female it exposes me to lots of new things and gives me a feeling almost like the one I get when I listen to that Liz Phair record. So that totally rules and snaps for Anna!
Anna if you are reading this, I am part of the school that makes short, album-length mixes. That is 12-14 songs, 39-55 minutes. So I felt kind of bad when you gave me three dazzlingly huge and amazingly sprawling mixes. I fear that you may feel cheated by my weak, 14 song 50 minute showing. So if that's the case, will you let me know in some way?
Today, I wore these pants. Now, invariably, whenever I wear these pants, Gap khakis of purest white, they are covered in coffee stains by the time I get to school. This isn't the case with any of my other khakis, all of which are darker. What does this mean?
Do you want to borrow a book?
My sister has come to blogger! The title of her blog makes me lol. It is called Oatmeal Empowerment and is located here.
What do I do when a sophomore picks a fight with me?
have a wonderfullll day or evening or afternoon or lunch and please, stay hydrated+warm.
13.1.08
Photoverdose...lol, here is what I did today.
stumbled upon an enormous field
ran, gloriously, down a slope to a marsh.
wandered up a long drive way to this modern monstrosity owned by a porno mogul (apparently.)
met up with friends and Sunday family at the brandywine river.
that included kelly g and sarah burchell
and kit ramsey
(i get the feeling that everyone has been underneath this bridge. dunno why.)
we went to wawa. the straggler on the upper right is kelly's friend kurt from unionville.
we feasted in the back of my mom's car
"bye, kit!"
Let The Ocean Dissolve Away My Mask!
It has been. A good weekend! I guess the biggest news is that I got into Drexel University.
What's not news is that I want to go to school in Philadelphia because over the last few years I have grown to truly love that place. Also, it isn't news that I only applied to two schools, Temple and Drexel, out of lack of necessity to apply anywhere else. I made it easy, obviously narrowed the field down to schools in the city. The LaSalle rep was a jackass. Penn was an impossible dream. St. Joseph's is as bumblefuck as you can get within the city limits. Initially, I loved Drexel and West Philly but I found by fall that Temple was really more the shit. Less pretentious I guess, more welcoming. More engaging. Not to mention like, almost thirty-thousand dollars less. I applied to both schools at the same time, but with Drexel I did the online thing so it made sense that I heard first. I really wasn't expecting to get in; I felt like I kind of half-assed the whole thing, recycling my Temple essay and all (which was knockout by the way). So at least I'm somewhere, but I figure if I got into Drexel that easy, than why not Temple? Hot times!
That was this afternoon. Yesterday, though, was Friday and in school I could only look forward to work (for whatever reason). I guess it was just something different. Anna picked me up and we went to Borders. It was adventurous. I picked up Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton. It's about looking at the world with curiosity and wonder and just like, loving being here without questioning why. It was a Mr. Kane recommendation. I also got a Ray Davies autobiography, a Scandinavian cookbook (bargain bin 1.99!) and the new issue of Filter. Afterward, we hung out with Mimi and two people we went to pre-school with, Brooke and Joe Francheshini at their enormous digs. Joe F. is an entertaining motherfucker. Our parents were out to dinner and came back very drunk and so dancing ensued. Typically fun. Anna lent me a book (Miranda July short stories) and gave me three (!) mixes which, so far, are awesome and loaded with really wonderful nuggets that I otherwise never would have stumbled upon. Thank you, Anna! I got Cat Power tickets too.
Tomorrow I think I'm going to Philadelphia to get on some Matador street team shit. I hope they aren't waiting for me saying things like "That motherfucker just wanted free goods." I mean, kind of, but Matador, I wasn't trying to rip you off! I just don't actually live in Philadelphia and I realized that no one in Kennett gives a shit that the Teenagers played Making Time last night (plus it was 21/over) and that Vampire Weekend are coming in February. I hope I make you proud. I hope no one got to AKA Music before this kid. I hope I get free Stephen Malkmus tickets and an advance copy of Real Emotional Trash!!!!
I found this quote in the Sun, an interesting literary magazine, that made me not feel like such an asshole: "The consensus was that I was an 'elitist,' a right-wing term for someone smarter than you." I think I lol'ed.
Lately, I've revisited two bands: The Shins and Pearl Jam. I mean they're always constants, they're always there, but in the musically dry territory of mid-Winter, they enter my rotation. With the Shins, I went back to Wincing the Night Away. Originally I kind of just stopped at "Sea Legs," whose proggy-synth jamminess at the end didn't really strike me as particularly Shins-y or enjoyable at all. It dawned on me recently that there was half an album after that so I chanced it and dove in and found one of the most underrated records of 2007. Chutes Too Narrow is, obviously, better, but this is good. It's bigger, it suits their stature. Pearl Jam are my favorite ever musical group, the kind you hardly listen to but still love so much. But I've been listening to albums like Yield and Vitalogy, the ones that grabbed me first and took me from there. They're both very cool records and before you write-off Pearl Jam as a band that must have been a shadow of themselves since 1993 or one that just always sucked, give them a listen. Those albums have an almost Clash-like depth to them; sprawling yet stacked and focused, remaining fresh over the course.
So back to my reading...70ish pages of What is the What left...then those Miranda July stories and the Chesterton simultaneously, and somehow I have to find room for Anna Karenina and Tender is the Night...both started but not nearly finished. Magazines, a shitty Piers Anthony book for the novel...daunting!! But you know what? I probably won't read that Piers Anthony book because it sounds just that shitty. It's not like I read for that class anyway.
Hope your weekend has fucking ruuuuuuled!
What's not news is that I want to go to school in Philadelphia because over the last few years I have grown to truly love that place. Also, it isn't news that I only applied to two schools, Temple and Drexel, out of lack of necessity to apply anywhere else. I made it easy, obviously narrowed the field down to schools in the city. The LaSalle rep was a jackass. Penn was an impossible dream. St. Joseph's is as bumblefuck as you can get within the city limits. Initially, I loved Drexel and West Philly but I found by fall that Temple was really more the shit. Less pretentious I guess, more welcoming. More engaging. Not to mention like, almost thirty-thousand dollars less. I applied to both schools at the same time, but with Drexel I did the online thing so it made sense that I heard first. I really wasn't expecting to get in; I felt like I kind of half-assed the whole thing, recycling my Temple essay and all (which was knockout by the way). So at least I'm somewhere, but I figure if I got into Drexel that easy, than why not Temple? Hot times!
That was this afternoon. Yesterday, though, was Friday and in school I could only look forward to work (for whatever reason). I guess it was just something different. Anna picked me up and we went to Borders. It was adventurous. I picked up Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton. It's about looking at the world with curiosity and wonder and just like, loving being here without questioning why. It was a Mr. Kane recommendation. I also got a Ray Davies autobiography, a Scandinavian cookbook (bargain bin 1.99!) and the new issue of Filter. Afterward, we hung out with Mimi and two people we went to pre-school with, Brooke and Joe Francheshini at their enormous digs. Joe F. is an entertaining motherfucker. Our parents were out to dinner and came back very drunk and so dancing ensued. Typically fun. Anna lent me a book (Miranda July short stories) and gave me three (!) mixes which, so far, are awesome and loaded with really wonderful nuggets that I otherwise never would have stumbled upon. Thank you, Anna! I got Cat Power tickets too.
Tomorrow I think I'm going to Philadelphia to get on some Matador street team shit. I hope they aren't waiting for me saying things like "That motherfucker just wanted free goods." I mean, kind of, but Matador, I wasn't trying to rip you off! I just don't actually live in Philadelphia and I realized that no one in Kennett gives a shit that the Teenagers played Making Time last night (plus it was 21/over) and that Vampire Weekend are coming in February. I hope I make you proud. I hope no one got to AKA Music before this kid. I hope I get free Stephen Malkmus tickets and an advance copy of Real Emotional Trash!!!!
I found this quote in the Sun, an interesting literary magazine, that made me not feel like such an asshole: "The consensus was that I was an 'elitist,' a right-wing term for someone smarter than you." I think I lol'ed.
Lately, I've revisited two bands: The Shins and Pearl Jam. I mean they're always constants, they're always there, but in the musically dry territory of mid-Winter, they enter my rotation. With the Shins, I went back to Wincing the Night Away. Originally I kind of just stopped at "Sea Legs," whose proggy-synth jamminess at the end didn't really strike me as particularly Shins-y or enjoyable at all. It dawned on me recently that there was half an album after that so I chanced it and dove in and found one of the most underrated records of 2007. Chutes Too Narrow is, obviously, better, but this is good. It's bigger, it suits their stature. Pearl Jam are my favorite ever musical group, the kind you hardly listen to but still love so much. But I've been listening to albums like Yield and Vitalogy, the ones that grabbed me first and took me from there. They're both very cool records and before you write-off Pearl Jam as a band that must have been a shadow of themselves since 1993 or one that just always sucked, give them a listen. Those albums have an almost Clash-like depth to them; sprawling yet stacked and focused, remaining fresh over the course.
So back to my reading...70ish pages of What is the What left...then those Miranda July stories and the Chesterton simultaneously, and somehow I have to find room for Anna Karenina and Tender is the Night...both started but not nearly finished. Magazines, a shitty Piers Anthony book for the novel...daunting!! But you know what? I probably won't read that Piers Anthony book because it sounds just that shitty. It's not like I read for that class anyway.
Hope your weekend has fucking ruuuuuuled!
11.1.08
Wtfsuckers
You know what was weird? There was this big trend in the late fall among football players of eating lollipops. They would position them in their mouths so that one of their cheeks would be bulging and the stick would come out a an angle in an effort to make the sucker a more natural extension of their mouths. So during this one early-November week, there was an influx of second, third and fourth string football players with this weird lollipop infatuation. I saw them in study hall, but most often after school. I went to the mall actually and saw another kid I know only in passing with one. Each time was definitely a wtf moment. Just thought that you should know.
10.1.08
Does My Breath Stink?
The answer is, well yeah. It stinks to low-hell but who the fuck is counting? I am home.
But I didn't get there right away. After work, I went to the post office to mail my voter registration papers (public service announcement: Pennsylvania voters, you need to have your voter registration thirty days in advance of the April 22nd primary...and if you'll be 18 by then, you can register a.s.a.p. Wow!). I then had to go make a delivery to a family friend, Mrs. R. Conti. Nothing illicit, just jewelry. A few days ago, I made a mix for Dana who works at Genaurdi's and since I've been debating whether or not to give it to her because I am just that full of self-doubt and am a total over-analyzer! But I had it with me and would be passing the grocery, so I made a turn into the lot, ejected it from the compact disc player (it's that good that I have been listening to it constantly) and brought it inside where I very nonchalantly wandered up to the customer service desk (to where she was recently transfered) and acted like that is something I do all the time. This is the track list:
that kid is all over the place!
christian inside the security of his car, Suge Knight
somewhere i didn't excel
a really nice guy who no longer throws away my plastic bottles because he knows that i recycle them.
we had a really funny relationship last year. not in that way, get your mind out of the gutter.
I feel like this post was a waste of time. I wanted to say so much more! So I want you to tell me: what have you been listening to, reading, doing, thinking about lately?
But I didn't get there right away. After work, I went to the post office to mail my voter registration papers (public service announcement: Pennsylvania voters, you need to have your voter registration thirty days in advance of the April 22nd primary...and if you'll be 18 by then, you can register a.s.a.p. Wow!). I then had to go make a delivery to a family friend, Mrs. R. Conti. Nothing illicit, just jewelry. A few days ago, I made a mix for Dana who works at Genaurdi's and since I've been debating whether or not to give it to her because I am just that full of self-doubt and am a total over-analyzer! But I had it with me and would be passing the grocery, so I made a turn into the lot, ejected it from the compact disc player (it's that good that I have been listening to it constantly) and brought it inside where I very nonchalantly wandered up to the customer service desk (to where she was recently transfered) and acted like that is something I do all the time. This is the track list:
- Panda Bear-Comfy in Nautica (the only song from that record that didn't leave me cold)
- Amy Winehouse-Me and Mr. Jones (why do I like this record a lot?)
- The Kinks-Sunny Afternoon
- Belle and Sebastian-Dear Catastrophe Waitress
- The Kooks-She Moves In Her Own Way (love this band, hate the Fratellis. Go figure.)
- Broken Social Scene-Stars and Sons
- Sons and Daughters-Taste The Last Girl
- Belle and Sebastian-If She Wants Me
- Of Montreal-She's a Rejector
- Radiohead-Reckoner (has become my favorite ever Radiohead song. Must-hear.)
- Spoon-Finer Feelings (you know my feelings on this little jewel)
- X-I Must Not Think Bad Thoughts
- Sex Pistols-EMI (a finale that kind of destroys everything else this mix was working toward.)
that kid is all over the place!
christian inside the security of his car, Suge Knight
somewhere i didn't excel
a really nice guy who no longer throws away my plastic bottles because he knows that i recycle them.
we had a really funny relationship last year. not in that way, get your mind out of the gutter.
I feel like this post was a waste of time. I wanted to say so much more! So I want you to tell me: what have you been listening to, reading, doing, thinking about lately?
7.1.08
Let's avoid talking about that place. We'll call it "skull."
Well I guess I need to say one thing. The main thing I hate is the overpriviliged males I'm surrounded by. It sucks listening in on their conversations in math class and not being able to discuss a book in English because they're too busy yammering on about sports...and the teacher isn't cool enough to hunker them down and make them want to pick up a novel and read. But anyway.
It was one sunny fucking afternoon! I wish I had taken pictures, but my fingers were a little oily. I put on the soul compilation that came with the issue of Mojo and fixed up my bike. I put my tread onto my new rim (yesssssss), pumped up my tires, tuned my breaks, took the rust off of and oiled my chain... It was so so therapeutic.
So do I blog so much to fulfill a need? Did I not post on message boards enough growing up?
Oh I also did record this song today, kind of a cover of "Where Is My Mind?". Listen?
Does anyone know good places to hang promotional materials around Kennett and West Chester? I joined Matador Records' street team and they sent me like four CDs (three being the as yet unreleased Mountain Goats, Cat Power and Jack Penate records. The other is the St. Vincent record which I have had...) and all these posters and stickers i have to distribute/hang in prominent places. I hope I don't let them down! Haha, stupid, but I fucking love Matador. Just go, listen to Matador at Fifteen. It's like, the best unsung compilation. Christian tells me What's Up Matador? is good too.
So we got this great The Office calendar, one of those rip the piece of paper off every day things... It has a quote on every day...kind of obvious. Today: "Ah, this is our receptionist Pam... Pam has been with us...forever...If you think she's cute now you should have seen her a couple of years ago. Meow."- Michael.
I love it like I love breathing.
It was one sunny fucking afternoon! I wish I had taken pictures, but my fingers were a little oily. I put on the soul compilation that came with the issue of Mojo and fixed up my bike. I put my tread onto my new rim (yesssssss), pumped up my tires, tuned my breaks, took the rust off of and oiled my chain... It was so so therapeutic.
So do I blog so much to fulfill a need? Did I not post on message boards enough growing up?
Oh I also did record this song today, kind of a cover of "Where Is My Mind?". Listen?
Does anyone know good places to hang promotional materials around Kennett and West Chester? I joined Matador Records' street team and they sent me like four CDs (three being the as yet unreleased Mountain Goats, Cat Power and Jack Penate records. The other is the St. Vincent record which I have had...) and all these posters and stickers i have to distribute/hang in prominent places. I hope I don't let them down! Haha, stupid, but I fucking love Matador. Just go, listen to Matador at Fifteen. It's like, the best unsung compilation. Christian tells me What's Up Matador? is good too.
So we got this great The Office calendar, one of those rip the piece of paper off every day things... It has a quote on every day...kind of obvious. Today: "Ah, this is our receptionist Pam... Pam has been with us...forever...If you think she's cute now you should have seen her a couple of years ago. Meow."- Michael.
I love it like I love breathing.
6.1.08
Golden State
I did, I had a great day today. I certainly maximized last day of break potential.
See, on the last day of any given break, it's good to do something. This something cannot be over the top, but it can't suck either. So on the last day of break, you would not want to go to Philadelphia or New York with your best friend(s) and have a great time. Save that for the day before last. You also wouldn't want to try to cram your homework in and end up wasting all your precious fucking daylight hours wallowing over penmanship in your kitchen/room/study.
What I did was this. I woke up without too much trouble (unlike yesterday's terrible arousal) and went to church with the fam. It was surprisingly engaging and the priest, unfamiliar to me, delivered a pretty welcoming homily. Ok, not bad. Then, to Wawa, for my first coffee since the teeth. I was avoiding things that were too temperature intensive. Actually, just hot things because I was (and still am) going crazy crazy crazy for ice cream. I waited to drink it, for fear that the small hole you have to drink through would require me doing some kind of sucking, something I'm totally supposed to (and willing to) avoid. When I arrived home, I poured it into one of my favorite mugs (we have three or four of the same kind) and enjoyed it. It was great to drink coffee again! I love coffee! Have I told you that? Mimi made eggs for everyone and even though I didn't want any (full from the night before) I had some and I made them comfortable atop an English muffin. I was given an assignment: clean mom's car. Then, I would be allowed to "do as I please."
It was noon, so This American Life was on. I listened as I cleaned. Surfaces were dusted back to their original black matte with Windex while I heard a sorry and upsetting story of a Muslim girl and her troubles at elementary school. When Car Talk came on, I vacuumed over the din that originates in the entertaining yammering of the brothers Tapitt (sp?). Needless to say, NPR is delightful on Sundays. Every day.
Assignment completed and Dad asked me to collect firewood with him. But sometime between then and the night before I decided that my privileged week of freedom where I am at liberty to take a trip, usually the coast, let's call it "senior week" would be this: a week of camping on Ocracoke Island, far down the coastal anomaly we call the Outer Banks. I love it there. I figured that it would be a symbolic way to put high school behind me... I pretend I hate saying it that way, but truthfully that's how I feel. (All interested parties, do apply! 18 dollars a night is unbeatable. Also, where is your sense of adventure? Do this, plz?) Segue to this: I'm not ready to say goodbye to childhood, but high school has gone too far. I can feel this way because high school, well my high school, infringes on my childishness and innocence and gets me down. Though, it does provide for lots of great frustration, ideas, emotion etc. that could fuel writing...something that a dear friend, Allison Berger, pointed out to me today. So how should I feel about high school? Fuck it.
Anyway.
We got firewood, I watched twenty minutes of a Johnny Knoxville movie (Grand Theft Parsons. I love Johnny, I love Gram Parsons. I loved GTP.) Deodorized, left. Drove, to Wayne, 926 listening to X. I got to Wayne, actually the corner of Wayne Ave. and Lancaster Ave. known to local youth as "the corner" (that shit rules.) Oh, why.
That's right, Allison and I were going to do the talking face to face thing which is something we get to do when we have time and she's home from college. Background: Allison and I met at the Hanson concert and began a neat friendship. She likes to write and is best described as totally awesome and a real flower of a human being (I mean that in the most positive way. She really does make me think of flowers.)
So we had a good conversation like usual and went our separate ways. She gave me her mix (something we do) which is great and made me want to cry. Afterward, I went to my Aunt Sheila's because she's so nearby and helped her prepare dinner. Cousin Sean came home and we sat around and spat words which is great. Dinner was delicious. Borders (bought LOL, the Rivers Cuomo demos cd [amazingly personal, only one dud] and the new issue of Mojo), sped home. I missed the place, I really really did. I love my family, they help me out. I wrote some thank you notes complete with drawings that obviously pined for a quirkiness that I do not have. (Begs the question, and do answer: if you received a thank you note, would you appreciate it if someone doodled a cute, applicable drawing on the white part?) But I tried to go there because I convinced myself yes, I was quirky enough to doodle on thank you notes to my relatives in an effort to seem "special" (?). Sometimes, I wonder. It was fun, writing the thank-yous, and kind of therapeutic.
That's my moody-face and I. That's me not wanting to go to school tomorrow and taking a stereotypically moody shot to prove it to you on my blog. That's me exhibiting my grievances in a photograph so I didn't have to write it out. But I wrote it anyway. It wouldn't be so bad if the year was over with the semester in two weeks, leaving me with four months to be alive, but it's not at all. It's four and a half months of broken windows discipline, shape-ups, bad outfits, phonies, Mr. Longo, terrible taste, unhealthy lunches, overbearing girlfriends and oversexed relationships, late or never turned in assignments, lack of attention in class, not meeting potential, keeping my ride waiting, being clean-shaven and ready for the fucking grind baby because it's cominatchya over the course of seven soul-sucking hours and six mind-numbing class periods, letting you know who's boss and it's just that inevitable.
I don't want to have to say things like that! But a little bit of me does, the schooled part, the one that doesn't want to face that day anymore. The one ready to make a move because the rest of me outright refuses to. I hate school. I never do homework. Where is this going? Wrap it up: Maybe this week I'll find out if I got into Temple and hopefully I'll be totally pleased.
The last two weeks in summation: despite working hard for a few days and getting my wisdom teeth out, break was delightful. Even the teeth and the dry socket, which for some reason I think is really really funny. It was all growing up, it was all fun, learning, all so soothing.
Wow, if you got this far I owe you at least a dollar. Goodnight, it'z keep ya head up Mondizzle!
I Love Updating This Blog
This girl makes me want to do a dance and then some unmentionable things (to her.) :)
What makes me think that I could ever get a girl like Cheyenne Kimball? Am I fucking crazy? Watch this video, she rules. (I'm planning this huge entry of women I'm totally in love with.)
What makes me think that I could ever get a girl like Cheyenne Kimball? Am I fucking crazy? Watch this video, she rules. (I'm planning this huge entry of women I'm totally in love with.)
5.1.08
Random Notes
First: Where are you, beautiful spring day? I am ready for winter to be over. Call me when it will be a steady 65 degrees+. I will be in my dark room hibernating/reading/avoiding my life. But seriously, all I really want to do is take long adventurous walks with people that I know. Not just the usual walk around my neighborhood or the orchard, but hiking in the Lehigh Valley, maybe a portion of the Appalachian Trail. Along the Brandywine river, perhaps. How about navigating Philadelphia on a warm, sunny-but-not-too-sunny-that-I-squint-excessively kind of day? Fu-u-u-ck cold, fuck winter. I believe the bears and the squirrels have the right idea: stuff your face and sleep sleep sleep.
Second: Oh how my mind loves to wallow in anguish over my, weird, weird, bipolar and totally naive past relationship! Increasingly, all I can do is ugh and then guffaw at how the fuck I spent seven months of my life. To you, if you reading this, which I doubt you are because you told me you don't care, I am sorry if this pisses you off, but I really really need to be expressive right now. Where new feelings become suppressed, old feelings need to be screamed at in sans-serif font...on a blog...for people to read. I usually try to avoid the bitching about an ex or females in general, especially on the internet, but I am in a state of great inner turmoil. I am afraid of getting myself into anything like that again! But obviously there's hope. Something like 3.5 billion fish in the sea. Right? Or I could play it like Stuart Murdoch who is a very wonderful and cool human being.
Third: Sons and Daughters are a great Scottish folky/punky/minimal-rock-n-rolly outfit that I love love love dearly. Their lyrics are mysterious, their guy/girl harmonies evoke John Doe and Exene Cerevenka of X (whom I also love dearly), and they keep. it. simple. Their music has held me tight since the beginning of junior year and they are coming out with a new record in a few weeks. It's bound to be awesome. Too bad their stateside tour brings them to Johnny Fucking Brenda's, oh my goddddd. What happened to the good old all ages show?
I'm in a state of flux but despite the mess I'm incredibly happy and I like where things are heading with everything, aside from the path toward school. So you too be happy, please, even though it's winter and deep down, you know it sucks.
Second: Oh how my mind loves to wallow in anguish over my, weird, weird, bipolar and totally naive past relationship! Increasingly, all I can do is ugh and then guffaw at how the fuck I spent seven months of my life. To you, if you reading this, which I doubt you are because you told me you don't care, I am sorry if this pisses you off, but I really really need to be expressive right now. Where new feelings become suppressed, old feelings need to be screamed at in sans-serif font...on a blog...for people to read. I usually try to avoid the bitching about an ex or females in general, especially on the internet, but I am in a state of great inner turmoil. I am afraid of getting myself into anything like that again! But obviously there's hope. Something like 3.5 billion fish in the sea. Right? Or I could play it like Stuart Murdoch who is a very wonderful and cool human being.
Third: Sons and Daughters are a great Scottish folky/punky/minimal-rock-n-rolly outfit that I love love love dearly. Their lyrics are mysterious, their guy/girl harmonies evoke John Doe and Exene Cerevenka of X (whom I also love dearly), and they keep. it. simple. Their music has held me tight since the beginning of junior year and they are coming out with a new record in a few weeks. It's bound to be awesome. Too bad their stateside tour brings them to Johnny Fucking Brenda's, oh my goddddd. What happened to the good old all ages show?
I'm in a state of flux but despite the mess I'm incredibly happy and I like where things are heading with everything, aside from the path toward school. So you too be happy, please, even though it's winter and deep down, you know it sucks.
4.1.08
Before Bed
Bug was fucking so sick!
My dad rented it and I had been meaning to watch it. I got to tonight, you know, because of the whole movie kick thing. I don't often watch horror movies but the ones that I do I usually become really enthusiastic about. This was no exception. It also had that really messed up love story element that I go crazy for.
Barack won Iowa. I also find myself getting really enthusiastic about him. If he ever comes up in conversation and you want me to stfu because honestly you don't really care and might not ever care until maybe November, just tell me. Because I will understand.
It made me really sad to see Deal or No Deal and The Apprentice: Celebrity Edition on NBC tonight in place of reruns of The Office and 30 Rock. Why can't the writers call it a day and save us from that mind cooking nonsense? Actually I'm all for what they're after, I just wish the whole shit could be fixed so I can drool at Tina Fey again and people don't have to be subjected to a very bald loser asking a really stupid question of a long line of assholes and a very successful businessman with a bad toupee insulting C-listers.
<3
My dad rented it and I had been meaning to watch it. I got to tonight, you know, because of the whole movie kick thing. I don't often watch horror movies but the ones that I do I usually become really enthusiastic about. This was no exception. It also had that really messed up love story element that I go crazy for.
Barack won Iowa. I also find myself getting really enthusiastic about him. If he ever comes up in conversation and you want me to stfu because honestly you don't really care and might not ever care until maybe November, just tell me. Because I will understand.
It made me really sad to see Deal or No Deal and The Apprentice: Celebrity Edition on NBC tonight in place of reruns of The Office and 30 Rock. Why can't the writers call it a day and save us from that mind cooking nonsense? Actually I'm all for what they're after, I just wish the whole shit could be fixed so I can drool at Tina Fey again and people don't have to be subjected to a very bald loser asking a really stupid question of a long line of assholes and a very successful businessman with a bad toupee insulting C-listers.
<3
3.1.08
Who's Excited For The Caucus?
I am. Tomorrow is kind of like the future. It is, actually, but it's also the beginning of the future of our country...you can turn on any news station and they will tell you that. I will be 18 for the Pennsylvania primary and the national election and I've been paying attention. Like most young and optimistic pinko-as-fuck liberals, I'm pulling for Barack. He's close to us, you know? Listen to my logic. It's actually not mine, it's sort of a logic I paraphrased from the December Atlantic Monthly. Barack was born in 1961, after the baby-boom, and he was too young to fight in Vietnam. That means he's not going to treat the war in Iraq like 'Nam and domestically, he cares about us, like you and I, people our age. He's not tied to some tired baby-boomer agenda, he will actually fucking push things forward. He might not be as experienced as other candidates, but isn't that what we need? Someone who hasn't been jaded or corrupted by Washington's bullshit and can bring something new to the job. Fuck the haters.
This morning, they yanked the ribbon of medicine out of my bloody and dry socket. It felt really weirdly neat. But that means I'm done. This whole tooth thing is over and thank you to the several who wished me the best. I hope you have as much fun as I did if you have to get it done. Lol. Speaking of that mess. I am on this huge movie watching kick because that's all I've really done the last week. I watched I Heart Huckabees, Trainspotting, Being John Malkovich, Rushmore, Lost in Translation...again. Also: Thumbsucker, SherryBaby, From Dusk Til Dawn, The Matador, Juno (albeit in theaters instead of the numb comfort of my couch.) In addition to: some doses of Ricky Gervais via BBC's The Office (likely on the same level as NBC's The Office but not as...catchy for us Yanks,) and Extras. Among: a few others I probably forgot but would feel cooler if I could mention them.
As a sort of celebration I cleaned the house because I could once more be useful. I did some laundry too, pretty much everything I wore over break. Which is still not over, I do not go back to fuckingschool until Monday. I'm like, totally looking forward to it! Not, but it's only a matter of a week or two before I suppose I will hear back from Temple.
So, the last few days:
Goodbye Christmas tree/season, bring on the rest of my life.
P.S. Ugh, COLD!
P.P.S. Elite few who read my blog, would it be ok if I post loads of photos like I just did in the future? It's kind of a personal thing.
This morning, they yanked the ribbon of medicine out of my bloody and dry socket. It felt really weirdly neat. But that means I'm done. This whole tooth thing is over and thank you to the several who wished me the best. I hope you have as much fun as I did if you have to get it done. Lol. Speaking of that mess. I am on this huge movie watching kick because that's all I've really done the last week. I watched I Heart Huckabees, Trainspotting, Being John Malkovich, Rushmore, Lost in Translation...again. Also: Thumbsucker, SherryBaby, From Dusk Til Dawn, The Matador, Juno (albeit in theaters instead of the numb comfort of my couch.) In addition to: some doses of Ricky Gervais via BBC's The Office (likely on the same level as NBC's The Office but not as...catchy for us Yanks,) and Extras. Among: a few others I probably forgot but would feel cooler if I could mention them.
As a sort of celebration I cleaned the house because I could once more be useful. I did some laundry too, pretty much everything I wore over break. Which is still not over, I do not go back to fuckingschool until Monday. I'm like, totally looking forward to it! Not, but it's only a matter of a week or two before I suppose I will hear back from Temple.
So, the last few days:
Goodbye Christmas tree/season, bring on the rest of my life.
P.S. Ugh, COLD!
P.P.S. Elite few who read my blog, would it be ok if I post loads of photos like I just did in the future? It's kind of a personal thing.
31.12.07
Goodbyear... No, forget that. How about, "How They Get There" as in the chocolate chips on my jawline.
It's December 31st 2007 here but it's already 2008 in cool places like New Zealand, Cambodia, Myanmar, the United Kingdom and the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. I think the new year is the weirdest thing. I always feel like, with the large group of family I usually gather with, we are going on some kind of journey that we are to never return from. But at midnight, the world doesn't end or anything and, like a million people have said before me, nothing changes at all. 2008 is going to be huge though. I'm probably going to lots of things like graduate, go to college, work jobs, get into the car accident I know is waiting for me around every corner. Hopefully I'll build some really great relationships and retain the ones I already have going. I don't expect to find myself or anything. Oh, I'm turning 18 and I'm scared for that. I don't like the looks of adulthood. So hopefully between now and April 16 I can do lots of young things. But maybe like some other people have said, nothing will change at all. I learned a lot this year, I don't see why it has to end. The learning doesn't have to stop I guess.
BUT: recent news...
There was a complication with my maxillofacial surgery. I developed what's called a dry socket, something really fun and exciting and it will make you feel delicious. It happens when the bloodclot from what was once your tooth falls out prematurely, leaving your jawbone exposed. Your jawbone becomes inflamed. What they had to do is squirt the hole with water and fill it with this ribbon soaked in medicine. So that's what happened! It's really kind of cool and the procedure was way easier than getting my third molar removed.
I am reading What is the What. I have been for awhile, but now I'm actually into it and it's really interesting. I eat up Dave Eggers. You can totally tell where he injected his own Eggernocity. He rules.
I've always loved Catherine Keener, but last night when I was watching Being John Malkovich I was just like, oh man let me in that. Kind of.
Anna and I saw Juno Friday. The soundtrack was awesome and the story was great. I'm trying to see it again though because my PK'd mind wasn't totally there. Anna is a very cool person.
BUT: recent news...
There was a complication with my maxillofacial surgery. I developed what's called a dry socket, something really fun and exciting and it will make you feel delicious. It happens when the bloodclot from what was once your tooth falls out prematurely, leaving your jawbone exposed. Your jawbone becomes inflamed. What they had to do is squirt the hole with water and fill it with this ribbon soaked in medicine. So that's what happened! It's really kind of cool and the procedure was way easier than getting my third molar removed.
I am reading What is the What. I have been for awhile, but now I'm actually into it and it's really interesting. I eat up Dave Eggers. You can totally tell where he injected his own Eggernocity. He rules.
I've always loved Catherine Keener, but last night when I was watching Being John Malkovich I was just like, oh man let me in that. Kind of.
Anna and I saw Juno Friday. The soundtrack was awesome and the story was great. I'm trying to see it again though because my PK'd mind wasn't totally there. Anna is a very cool person.
27.12.07
Post-Op
I'm awake before everyone else. I don't like this.
First though, Christmas was nice, we had the family over and all of that. My cool cousin Morgan was here and it's neat to talk to him about all the shows he went to in Chicago. You just have to talk to him.
We got to the oral surgeon on time, I guess. The nurse came out and I pretended I wasn't Joe Gallagher which worked for about one second. I asked if my mom could come with me and she said that the room was too small. She started walking toward the back area whatever and I trailed behind, very very slowly. "I don't want to go in yet." I nervously put my hands in my sweatshirt pocket. When I did walk in, I washed my mouth out with some stuff and made them tell me what was gonna go down. Then I was like, no I don't want to lay down yet. Then I did and they put the mask on me and I took it off and made them let my mom come in. She did and I started to cry. A few minutes later, I laid back down. They put the mask back on and I tried to relax. The surgeon came in and was telling me he was going to put an I.V. in. "Have you seen Trainspotting?" I asked, haha. He tied my arm off. Uncomfortable. He put it in, holy shit it didn't feel like anything. I still hate the fucking idea of it and I still fucking hate needles. So i think that was that. Until I woke up later to this beeping noise. I had one of those things on my finger and I took it off until the beeping became one long tone and a nurse came over and whined that I had to keep it on, it was measuring my heart-rate. Another came over and started to get me ready to leave. I gave her a high-five. Her name was Rebecca, I think. She walked me out to the lobby to meet my mom, then out to the car where I gave Rebecca a hug.
The rest of my afternoon consisted of:
Bloody rolls of gauze
Vanilla ice cream
Half-finished cups of water
Several naps
I <3 Huckabees
Lost in Translation
Dawson's Creek
Elliott Smith, that new Autumn de Wilde book.
This sucks.
To be honest I'm pissed at all the people that are seeing Juno before me. I'm pretty sure I was the first person I know to hype that shit up. Whatever, it's cool, I'm gonna find my Vicodin now.
First though, Christmas was nice, we had the family over and all of that. My cool cousin Morgan was here and it's neat to talk to him about all the shows he went to in Chicago. You just have to talk to him.
We got to the oral surgeon on time, I guess. The nurse came out and I pretended I wasn't Joe Gallagher which worked for about one second. I asked if my mom could come with me and she said that the room was too small. She started walking toward the back area whatever and I trailed behind, very very slowly. "I don't want to go in yet." I nervously put my hands in my sweatshirt pocket. When I did walk in, I washed my mouth out with some stuff and made them tell me what was gonna go down. Then I was like, no I don't want to lay down yet. Then I did and they put the mask on me and I took it off and made them let my mom come in. She did and I started to cry. A few minutes later, I laid back down. They put the mask back on and I tried to relax. The surgeon came in and was telling me he was going to put an I.V. in. "Have you seen Trainspotting?" I asked, haha. He tied my arm off. Uncomfortable. He put it in, holy shit it didn't feel like anything. I still hate the fucking idea of it and I still fucking hate needles. So i think that was that. Until I woke up later to this beeping noise. I had one of those things on my finger and I took it off until the beeping became one long tone and a nurse came over and whined that I had to keep it on, it was measuring my heart-rate. Another came over and started to get me ready to leave. I gave her a high-five. Her name was Rebecca, I think. She walked me out to the lobby to meet my mom, then out to the car where I gave Rebecca a hug.
The rest of my afternoon consisted of:
Bloody rolls of gauze
Vanilla ice cream
Half-finished cups of water
Several naps
I <3 Huckabees
Lost in Translation
Dawson's Creek
Elliott Smith, that new Autumn de Wilde book.
This sucks.
To be honest I'm pissed at all the people that are seeing Juno before me. I'm pretty sure I was the first person I know to hype that shit up. Whatever, it's cool, I'm gonna find my Vicodin now.
26.12.07
22.12.07
Elerhino
I'm waiting for my two friends to come back from Wawa with special goodness and have decided to occupy myself.
I was just on xpn.org, looking up listener's choice album of the year for the eponymous station and it was...Sky Blue Sky, that dull Wilco number. Now, let me tell you why this was the most disappointing record of 2007. It's almost never when I write about something that made me feel negative, so think of this as an exercise.
Wilco are one of my favorite bands. Ever. Or they used to be. I'm not so sure anymore. In 2004, they took a turn for the fucking awesome and released A Ghost Is Born, my soundtrack to a hundred bus rides and at least as many long nights. It was noisy, subdued, chaotic, tuneful, beautiful and harsh over the course of 70 minutes. It was the best thing they had done - a louder step ahead of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot's quieter experimentation. So you'd think that a logical move would be to build on that exploratory momentum. Well, Jeff Tweedy went to rehab and no longer could his depression and drug addiction fuel his torturedly great songwriting. Kind of a good thing, but not so much. Sky Blue Sky, Ghost's much anticipated follow-up and possible sonic bretheren...that wasn't. The lyrics are irritatingly repetitive and mindless ("maybe the sun will shine today/the clouds will roll away..." obviously the product of some over-Xanaxed post-hop.) The guitar should have been inventive with the addition of free-jazz dude Nels Cline. It's not. Glen Kotche forgot how to play drums. The production is cold. The hooks are dull (try the endless iteration of "What Light".) In truth, it sounds like the Eagles. I fucking hate the Eagles (, man!) So, the new Wilco: unexciting, afraid and Eagles-esque. What, the, hell.
I was just on xpn.org, looking up listener's choice album of the year for the eponymous station and it was...Sky Blue Sky, that dull Wilco number. Now, let me tell you why this was the most disappointing record of 2007. It's almost never when I write about something that made me feel negative, so think of this as an exercise.
Wilco are one of my favorite bands. Ever. Or they used to be. I'm not so sure anymore. In 2004, they took a turn for the fucking awesome and released A Ghost Is Born, my soundtrack to a hundred bus rides and at least as many long nights. It was noisy, subdued, chaotic, tuneful, beautiful and harsh over the course of 70 minutes. It was the best thing they had done - a louder step ahead of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot's quieter experimentation. So you'd think that a logical move would be to build on that exploratory momentum. Well, Jeff Tweedy went to rehab and no longer could his depression and drug addiction fuel his torturedly great songwriting. Kind of a good thing, but not so much. Sky Blue Sky, Ghost's much anticipated follow-up and possible sonic bretheren...that wasn't. The lyrics are irritatingly repetitive and mindless ("maybe the sun will shine today/the clouds will roll away..." obviously the product of some over-Xanaxed post-hop.) The guitar should have been inventive with the addition of free-jazz dude Nels Cline. It's not. Glen Kotche forgot how to play drums. The production is cold. The hooks are dull (try the endless iteration of "What Light".) In truth, it sounds like the Eagles. I fucking hate the Eagles (, man!) So, the new Wilco: unexciting, afraid and Eagles-esque. What, the, hell.
21.12.07
Guy I'd Go Gay For: Evan Dando
Tonight I did something I've been wanting to do since I was, I dunno, five maybe. The Lemonheads, the soundtrack to my growing up and the reason my soul still lives in the 1990s, were at the Trocadero tonight. So naturally, I was there. It was a gradual build-up, beginning in eighth grade when I saw head-Lemon Evan Dando solo, which was brilliant. Two years later, I saw former Lemonhead Juliana Hatfield opening for X. I told her how much I loved their harmonies. Anyway, they were in town tonight and blahblahblah like you know, I was there.
It could easily have been a bad night. Actually, on arrival, there was a mix of different things going on. There was the positive: I had won two tickets and they were playing Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga over the PA; then, the negative: they fucking made a really dumbshit move and flipped the Troc upside down so the bottom floor was 21+ and the balcony was all-ages. I felt really cheated. Where were Sean Agnew and Ian Mackaye? What about punk rock? Whatever, I bitched it out of my system and sucked it up. It would be the first show I had to watch from that forsaken balcony since my first Guided by Voices show at age 11.
We made the best of it. The performance was great. Dando, Karl Alvarez and Bill Stevenson took the stage really nonchalantly. Evan mumbled some typically Dando-esque nonsense into the mic about the placement of his guitar pedals and I laughed. When they were finally able to pull it together and play, they emitted noise for a good two minutes before beginning "Hospital". I was gleeful. "Hospital" was unexpected, it was a really great gift, it contains lyrics about green leaves (in the midst of winter, some much needed springtime imagery)! So the set continued in this fashion with all of my old fucking favorites that I really actually love ("Great Big No," "Drug Buddy," "Tenderfoot," just ask me for a best-of mix, you will maybe get the idea,) and some new ones from last year's s/t and much needed reemergence that went over really well live.
It felt like I was seeing this rising new band, one with an olympic sized swimming pool's worth of potential and that was going to save something. Technically, they were a new band (Alvarez and Stevenson backed Evan on s/t and this was their first tour together,) but only in one sense. So it kind of sucks that the original Lemonheads had a vat of potential and quickly squandered it away on crack cocaine and rough breakups. I feel kind of torn about their fanfare-less comeback, but mostly...I'm elated. The Lemonheads are back and excellent, it's just too bad people won't be coming out in droves to see a still-gorgeous Evan Dando croon happiness. He really is still fucking gorgeous, I'm not even going to try to hold back. Just look at him.
So begins my break. A fitting start, actually. I can't wait to sleep in tomorrow, but what follows won't be pretty. Christmas at the Country Butcher! We're really fucking busy. Whatever though, break is going to be good...right?
It could easily have been a bad night. Actually, on arrival, there was a mix of different things going on. There was the positive: I had won two tickets and they were playing Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga over the PA; then, the negative: they fucking made a really dumbshit move and flipped the Troc upside down so the bottom floor was 21+ and the balcony was all-ages. I felt really cheated. Where were Sean Agnew and Ian Mackaye? What about punk rock? Whatever, I bitched it out of my system and sucked it up. It would be the first show I had to watch from that forsaken balcony since my first Guided by Voices show at age 11.
We made the best of it. The performance was great. Dando, Karl Alvarez and Bill Stevenson took the stage really nonchalantly. Evan mumbled some typically Dando-esque nonsense into the mic about the placement of his guitar pedals and I laughed. When they were finally able to pull it together and play, they emitted noise for a good two minutes before beginning "Hospital". I was gleeful. "Hospital" was unexpected, it was a really great gift, it contains lyrics about green leaves (in the midst of winter, some much needed springtime imagery)! So the set continued in this fashion with all of my old fucking favorites that I really actually love ("Great Big No," "Drug Buddy," "Tenderfoot," just ask me for a best-of mix, you will maybe get the idea,) and some new ones from last year's s/t and much needed reemergence that went over really well live.
It felt like I was seeing this rising new band, one with an olympic sized swimming pool's worth of potential and that was going to save something. Technically, they were a new band (Alvarez and Stevenson backed Evan on s/t and this was their first tour together,) but only in one sense. So it kind of sucks that the original Lemonheads had a vat of potential and quickly squandered it away on crack cocaine and rough breakups. I feel kind of torn about their fanfare-less comeback, but mostly...I'm elated. The Lemonheads are back and excellent, it's just too bad people won't be coming out in droves to see a still-gorgeous Evan Dando croon happiness. He really is still fucking gorgeous, I'm not even going to try to hold back. Just look at him.
So begins my break. A fitting start, actually. I can't wait to sleep in tomorrow, but what follows won't be pretty. Christmas at the Country Butcher! We're really fucking busy. Whatever though, break is going to be good...right?
18.12.07
Tuesday Evening
Yesterday afternoon, around 4 o'clock:
I'm at the mall and people are screaming. It's the holiday season , but the screaming isn't the sound of consumers being trampled underfoot; the Jonas Brothers are here. You know them, kind of. You should at least know their name, but even if you don't, you know them. They're Hanson for those born after 1994. It's not really clear to me how exactly the Jonas Brothers became so famous. The brothers Nick, Joe and John, 15, 18 and 20, shopped their music around, put out a record (It's About Time, it's actually kinda fun,) ended up in a few commercials and eventually appeared in Zoey 101 and on the Disney Channel. So, like anything that winds up on either Nick or Disney these days, the kids ate it the fuck up (see: Drake Bell, Miley Cyrus [who the Jonases have the pleasure of touring with,] High School Musical et. al.)
So there are probably 1,000+ people, mainly girls between the ages of 10 and 17 and a smattering of parents, boyfriends and older brothers (like myself) packed before J.C. Penney, waiting for this cute little bundle of fame. It's fun. The Jonas Brothers are certainly using our after school homework-and-telly time liberally. They were set to come on at three, it's now sometime around four. They finally come out and the crowd erupts, screaming to rival that of the Hanson (more parallels) show I attended a few years before, with the same girls Mimi and Kelly G. They play and the sound sucks (wtf are they using for a PA?) girls are speaking in tongues and I cannot resist singing along to "Year 3000." Immediately after their last song, we run behind Boscov's in abandon to wait for them at their little caravan. It wasn't all that crowded yet, though there were 15 or so girls who opted to sit out the show in favor of waiting for the boys. The caravan is three black Suburbans and a white security SUV, presumably the mall's. It's just funny being out here. Some girls are holding signs (one, a clever letter using all their song titles and another, "Nick, we'll catch you if you trip!"). The Jonas Brothers finally step outside and immediately up into the middle Suburban with a quick wave. The oldest one is wearing goofy sunglasses. And that was that for the most part.
My first thoughts are these kids are too goofy looking to be swooned over. Whatever, so were Hanson upon their arrival. Kelly G made a good point: the brothers never really acknowledge us warmly or anything. Kelly G says that the Jonases were handed their fame by the Disney Channel whereas Hanson relied on their fans from the get-go. We think eventually the Jonases will end up in the spot Hanson are now: awesome cult-band. I just hope they don't go screwing it up with a Miley/Nick sex-tape and poor Joe succumbing to middle-child syndrome and drug-use. I'm pulling for them.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So that was my yesterday afternoon with Mimi and Kelly, we had a really good time. I felt like the world's best big brother even though I don't feel too much bigger than Mimi.
Lately, I've been really paranoid about something. You know how most secretaries have enormous asses? If you didn't notice, get down to your school's office, quick and look at the overwhelmingly large parasites living on their lower-backs. Well that's probably a product of a lot of sitting down. I do my fair share of sitting down. Am I on my way to an enormous separate entity of an ass? Please ease my fears (or add to them) with your thoughts.
Things are good. :)
I'm at the mall and people are screaming. It's the holiday season , but the screaming isn't the sound of consumers being trampled underfoot; the Jonas Brothers are here. You know them, kind of. You should at least know their name, but even if you don't, you know them. They're Hanson for those born after 1994. It's not really clear to me how exactly the Jonas Brothers became so famous. The brothers Nick, Joe and John, 15, 18 and 20, shopped their music around, put out a record (It's About Time, it's actually kinda fun,) ended up in a few commercials and eventually appeared in Zoey 101 and on the Disney Channel. So, like anything that winds up on either Nick or Disney these days, the kids ate it the fuck up (see: Drake Bell, Miley Cyrus [who the Jonases have the pleasure of touring with,] High School Musical et. al.)
So there are probably 1,000+ people, mainly girls between the ages of 10 and 17 and a smattering of parents, boyfriends and older brothers (like myself) packed before J.C. Penney, waiting for this cute little bundle of fame. It's fun. The Jonas Brothers are certainly using our after school homework-and-telly time liberally. They were set to come on at three, it's now sometime around four. They finally come out and the crowd erupts, screaming to rival that of the Hanson (more parallels) show I attended a few years before, with the same girls Mimi and Kelly G. They play and the sound sucks (wtf are they using for a PA?) girls are speaking in tongues and I cannot resist singing along to "Year 3000." Immediately after their last song, we run behind Boscov's in abandon to wait for them at their little caravan. It wasn't all that crowded yet, though there were 15 or so girls who opted to sit out the show in favor of waiting for the boys. The caravan is three black Suburbans and a white security SUV, presumably the mall's. It's just funny being out here. Some girls are holding signs (one, a clever letter using all their song titles and another, "Nick, we'll catch you if you trip!"). The Jonas Brothers finally step outside and immediately up into the middle Suburban with a quick wave. The oldest one is wearing goofy sunglasses. And that was that for the most part.
My first thoughts are these kids are too goofy looking to be swooned over. Whatever, so were Hanson upon their arrival. Kelly G made a good point: the brothers never really acknowledge us warmly or anything. Kelly G says that the Jonases were handed their fame by the Disney Channel whereas Hanson relied on their fans from the get-go. We think eventually the Jonases will end up in the spot Hanson are now: awesome cult-band. I just hope they don't go screwing it up with a Miley/Nick sex-tape and poor Joe succumbing to middle-child syndrome and drug-use. I'm pulling for them.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So that was my yesterday afternoon with Mimi and Kelly, we had a really good time. I felt like the world's best big brother even though I don't feel too much bigger than Mimi.
Lately, I've been really paranoid about something. You know how most secretaries have enormous asses? If you didn't notice, get down to your school's office, quick and look at the overwhelmingly large parasites living on their lower-backs. Well that's probably a product of a lot of sitting down. I do my fair share of sitting down. Am I on my way to an enormous separate entity of an ass? Please ease my fears (or add to them) with your thoughts.
Things are good. :)
15.12.07
Winter Friday
When I have a good night, I tend to get really shaky. I dunno if it's the coffee and the water, contact or maybe that energy new-agers always talk about. It's probably the coffee, but I'm shaking and I had a good night. So do the two go hand in hand? Also, like usual, I'll probably be thinking about this good night for the next few days to come. Or maybe until the next good night. Good nights usually happen for the same general reasons, but particular events may differ greatly between them. So tonight: got home from work earlier than usual, changed, Anna arrived, we went to the movies and saw No Country For Old Men (my second time,) left and went to WaWa (where I purchased aforementioned coffee,) came back and I cooked while she watched Dawson's with Mimi. Dinner (just some tomatoes and linguini) was done and we watched Superbad extras. Mimi went to bed and Anna and I watched Superbad.
It was just totally lame that I wrote about every thing I did tonight in chronological order. But, it's a good night and everything changes. Tomorrow, it's likely I'll have a good early evening before shopping with Mimi and Robert. Good.
I'm struggling with this essay on free spirit. Like I know I am, but how do I talk about it? My singular point is I'm "interested" as opposed to interesting. The good thing is that still no guys have entered in Delaware (deadline is Monday) so I have pretty solid odds. I really hope to get into Temple.
So, the quarter-dozen of you who are reading this sometime, please tell me what you think of "Recokner," track seven on the new Radiohead album In Rainbows. It's definitely not getting enough attention, but those strings at the end make me want to get on my knees in order that I may be transported somewhere else
Goodnight
P.S. I hope you can get over how lame that was.
P.P.S. Next time you see me, punch me in the face if this at all evoked the roll of toilet paper that is The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
It was just totally lame that I wrote about every thing I did tonight in chronological order. But, it's a good night and everything changes. Tomorrow, it's likely I'll have a good early evening before shopping with Mimi and Robert. Good.
I'm struggling with this essay on free spirit. Like I know I am, but how do I talk about it? My singular point is I'm "interested" as opposed to interesting. The good thing is that still no guys have entered in Delaware (deadline is Monday) so I have pretty solid odds. I really hope to get into Temple.
So, the quarter-dozen of you who are reading this sometime, please tell me what you think of "Recokner," track seven on the new Radiohead album In Rainbows. It's definitely not getting enough attention, but those strings at the end make me want to get on my knees in order that I may be transported somewhere else
Goodnight
P.S. I hope you can get over how lame that was.
P.P.S. Next time you see me, punch me in the face if this at all evoked the roll of toilet paper that is The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
13.12.07
Hot Times, Cold Weather
It's taking awhile for me to get into my new blog...I'll get there eventually. For now:
So Apple just e-mailed me. "Give the gift of iPhone!" Now why would I do that? I wonder how many people are going to get that e-mail and say, "You know, that's a great idea. I'm going to get _____ an iPhone." Whatever, that's your bag!
I asked for a few things of my parents this Christmas. My "big" gift is this camera I'm really excited about getting:
28mm wide angle Leica lens and 16:9 aspect ratio, baby! I'm excited.
Speaking of things people want, Carrie Brownstein (ex-Sleater-Kinney) keeps this blog, Monitor Mix, and contributes to NPR now and then. She just did this little piece on Day-to-Day about "favorite things." I thought it was awesome and you can too if you listen to it here...
So far, this post has come off as kind of impersonal. To0 blog-y. Reeeeemix:
Mr. Menicucci, newspaper moderator and fan of me (lol) suggested I enter this scholarship contest, the Free Spirit awards. It's a really big deal and it's the only thing I've been focusing on since yesterday...besides the usual things I focus on. I have to write two essays: the first about why I want to be a journalist and the second about what makes me a free spirit. That second one is going to be rough, but I've been messing around with it and I think I'm in the right direction. The main idea is that I'm interested...as in that's what makes me me.
Lists
Reading:
Tender is the Night
What is the What
Anna Karenina (soon, for Christmas break)
Watch Your Mouth
Listening:
Spank Rock
M.I.A.
Dizzee Rascal
Radiohead
Beirut
It doesn't really feel like Christmas, but that's OK too. Big plans wit' Anna!
So Apple just e-mailed me. "Give the gift of iPhone!" Now why would I do that? I wonder how many people are going to get that e-mail and say, "You know, that's a great idea. I'm going to get _____ an iPhone." Whatever, that's your bag!
I asked for a few things of my parents this Christmas. My "big" gift is this camera I'm really excited about getting:
28mm wide angle Leica lens and 16:9 aspect ratio, baby! I'm excited.
Speaking of things people want, Carrie Brownstein (ex-Sleater-Kinney) keeps this blog, Monitor Mix, and contributes to NPR now and then. She just did this little piece on Day-to-Day about "favorite things." I thought it was awesome and you can too if you listen to it here...
So far, this post has come off as kind of impersonal. To0 blog-y. Reeeeemix:
Mr. Menicucci, newspaper moderator and fan of me (lol) suggested I enter this scholarship contest, the Free Spirit awards. It's a really big deal and it's the only thing I've been focusing on since yesterday...besides the usual things I focus on. I have to write two essays: the first about why I want to be a journalist and the second about what makes me a free spirit. That second one is going to be rough, but I've been messing around with it and I think I'm in the right direction. The main idea is that I'm interested...as in that's what makes me me.
Lists
Reading:
Tender is the Night
What is the What
Anna Karenina (soon, for Christmas break)
Watch Your Mouth
Listening:
Spank Rock
M.I.A.
Dizzee Rascal
Radiohead
Beirut
It doesn't really feel like Christmas, but that's OK too. Big plans wit' Anna!
10.12.07
Also
I had this really awesome weekend I forgot to tell you about, wherein I:
- Saw The Golden Compass with Anna Friday night. She ended up hanging out into the early morning and we watched some of Pulp Fiction. A good/fun night.
- Had a good day at work Saturday.
- Spent a long time at the grocery store later that afternoon.
- Watched my newly purchased Superbad DVD with some good folks: Alex, Trey, Mimi, Kelly G, Louis.
- Sunday, I read and slept in and ran some errands.
9.12.07
Musing
Britt Daniel and I are obviously brothers. We both have weird front teeth. Specifically, one is larger than the other and sticks out a bit further. Take a look:
Year End (complete)
If someone tries to tell you that no longer is there good music, tell them they’re wrong. Tell them about 2007. Also, let them know it’s time to stop looking back because that’s not where music is headed, as evinced by most of the year’s best albums. I was told this year that, despite an industry in a state of flux without end, there is no better time to be a listener. With the divide between band and fan becoming nonexistent through the internet and the ease at which bands can now transcend both mainstream and underground, good music prevails and so do we. It was hard to pare 2007’s great run of releases down to ten and there are notable exclusions like the Arcade Fire and Feist but you get the gist with what’s here.
1. Spoon-Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga: Spoon are a band in the truest sense. You may think that’s painfully obvious (they make records and play instruments,) but with Britt Daniel and friends it’s a truth that needs to be revealed through listening to and experiencing their music. Daniel (vocals/guitar) is an obsessive and with every Spoon release, he seeks to create not just sound but a feeling. In this sense, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga is the band’s greatest success. The ominous, sparse song structures and deeply emotive lyrics push the album through highs and lows like the ones you get in life. Each instrument fits like a puzzle-piece to another, eventually revealing the still life portrait that is the song. The musicianship here is tight and easily broken down where even the empty spaces between notes resonate just as much as a chaotic guitar solo or a piano chord. Personally, I found this album so good it was worth breaking up with a girl over. Judging by the personal nature of most of Britt Daniel’s words, I’m sure he would understand and that’s something to love about Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga-the music Spoon plays and the lyrics they sing feel important to both us and them. Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga is an exhibition of masterful experimental pop music and a perfect picture of the state music is in today.
2. M.I.A.-Kala: Since emerging in 2005 with the flawless Arular, M.I.A. has been the most revolutionary voice in music. She does more with a sequencer a bunch of harsh bedroom beats than we could ever hope from an American rapper/producer. This comes in part from her globetrotting sensibility. For Kala, she returned briefly to her native Sri Lanka before recording tracks in India, Africa and London. The result is an incendiary follow-up, a sort of CNN for international ghettos. To paraphrase Joe Strummer, this is a public service announcement with beats, straight out of the third world. Through her music, she creates for us a place barely holding onto infrastructure, sticky hot and where rebellion is a reality happening in the jungle outside the city walls. “$20” is the album’s centerpiece, boasting a big beat, slithering keyboard line and lyrics indicting everything from African dictatorships, Muslim extremism and Western materialism to the internet. “Paper Planes,” easily the best song of the year, is a gorgeous finale within which she idealizes a third world democracy where money has no place. This is what music should be: fiery, revolutionary, simple, fresh and beautiful.
3. LCD Soundsystem-Sound of Silver: The idea of a serious dance record is kind of strange, but James Murphy manages perfectly well on Sound of Silver. Over the course of nine songs, we are subjected to paranoia, darkness, loss and also great fun. That’s where Murphy’s talent lies, in making heady topics accessible through groove-friendly sounds and a fan’s knowledge of music and positive influence. It’s an album that’s easy to get lost in, evoking the feeling of a good day in the city. It’s also feels like the sound of Murphy looking back on everything he’s accomplished as a record label-head, producer, artist etc. There’s something here for everybody. Sound of Silver rewards with every listen; with every lyric a new revelation and every beat entrancing in some new way.
4. Kanye West-Graduation: “Feel good hit of the year!” Or so the poster would read were Graduation a movie instead of the most consistently awesome record of Kanye West’s career. It does play like the ups and downs of someone’s life: moments that evoke pride, ones that evoke anger, a little bit of reminiscence thrown in for good measure. He’s an artist that strives to push himself further through his production and otherwise. His “I don’t care but I do kind of care” attitude is appealing in the face of cockier, more self-assured popular hip-hop. Graduation is a legitimate artistic statement, one that suits West and the moment equally.
5. Eddie Vedder-Into the Wild OST: Love him or hate him, Eddie Vedder is around and people listen to him. If you’ve ever wondered what Pearl Jam would sound like if they hailed from Portland, Oregon and not Seattle, I guess you have your answer. Vedder strikes out on his own with this set of songs and succeeds. Not only is Into the Wild a good record, complete with rootsy-rockers and their more subdued counterparts (and a fair amount of social disillusionment throughout,) it’s the ideal accompaniment to the movie of same name. The album stands good on it’s own but becomes all the more complete upon seeing in the film…you won’t be able to stop listening in an effort to decode the actions of protagonist Chris McCandless. Vedder certainly gives his two cents; cultural pairing of the year, no doubt.
6. Los Campesinos!-Sticking Fingers Into Sockets: There’s something very appealing about a young bunch of Scots so willing to reveal their deepest feelings to an audience through song. That’s exactly what you get with Los Campesinos!’s very fun debut - youthful exuberance and a look at the overseas lives of people quite similar to you or I. They play it fast and simple; blissful pop-songs with dashes of violins and boy/girl harmonies. Their music is truly exciting, certainly inciting more than a few to get up and clean their room.
7. Radiohead-In Rainbows: Since 2004, we’ve been anxiously awaiting Radiohead’s return. Throughout the year, they teased, letting us know when the album was done and all the steps they had to take to get there, but there was no news of a release date or title. Suddenly, it was there, on there internet for whatever you thought it was worth. Fan or not, you had to give it to them because their little scheme got them a lot of publicity and a fair amount of web traffic. It feels like they’ve been working toward In Rainbows for the last ten years. It plays great through repeat listens, feeling familiar for Radiohead but adventurous when pitted against anyone else.
8. The White Stripes-Icky Thump: Sounding like a blast from the deep south of planet Mars, Jack and Meg White continue to get weirder over the course of 13 songs and at least twice as many noises elicited from the male White’s guitar. It’s a fun romp through innocence, Mexican backcountry and probably a few crossroads where some deals were made and a few stories swapped. It leaves you wondering, where do they get it? Two people can make quite a big noise.
9. Beirut-The Flying Cub Cup: Zach Condon, the primary force behind Beirut, probably could be called a more worldly Bob Dylan, but that’s a cop-out. Condon certainly is worldly, his music always brings you along on the same European backpacking trip he made in high school, but he’s so much more than a singer-songwriter. He’s more like a composer-filmmaker, writing intricately structured songs for an array of instruments (we hear trumpet, accordion, percussion, strings etc.) that take you places you only read about in Fitzgerald or Hemingway.
10. The Hives-The Black and White Album: See preceding page for review. (I wrote a review for the Hives record for this issue too, but I'm not going to put it here. Essentially: Rock n' Roll.)
-Joe Gallagher ‘08
Year End
So I had to build a new blog. When Google took over Blogger, they made everyone change their accounts to G-mail ones, so I registered for G-mail with an old e-mail account, long since dormant, and a password that I soon forgot. Trouble came last week when I logged out and Firefox wouldn't load all my shit for me...so after a week of waiting for an e-mail from Google support (to absolutely no avail,) I resurrected this dinosaur I made for not much of a reason in late-August. Cool. I'm kind of torn up about the whole thing, but whatever. Hahaha.
To the good stuff:
That time of year! Anyone who writes about music is/has been meticulously piecing together their list of the best records of the year. Here's mine, I'm in the process of writing all the content (it's going in the school paper,) so just the titles will have to do now.
1. Spoon-Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
2. M.I.A.-Kala
3. LCD Soundsystem-Sound of Silver
4. Kanye West-Graduation
5. Los Campesinos!-Sticking Fingers Into Sockets E.P.
6. Eddie Vedder-Into The Wild
7. Radiohead-In Rainbows
8. The White Stripes-Icky Thump
9. Beirut-The Flying Cub Cup
10. The Hives-The Black and White Album
I'm going to write up a 2007 playlist too, with, like:
Rihanna-"Umbrella"
Timbaland-"The Way I Are"
M.I.A.-"Paper Planes" (song of the year)
Jay-Z-"Blue Magic"
Los Campesinos-"Frontwards"
The White Stripes-"I'm Slowly Turning Into You"
Radiohead-"Reckoner"
...etc.
Talk to you!
To the good stuff:
That time of year! Anyone who writes about music is/has been meticulously piecing together their list of the best records of the year. Here's mine, I'm in the process of writing all the content (it's going in the school paper,) so just the titles will have to do now.
1. Spoon-Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
2. M.I.A.-Kala
3. LCD Soundsystem-Sound of Silver
4. Kanye West-Graduation
5. Los Campesinos!-Sticking Fingers Into Sockets E.P.
6. Eddie Vedder-Into The Wild
7. Radiohead-In Rainbows
8. The White Stripes-Icky Thump
9. Beirut-The Flying Cub Cup
10. The Hives-The Black and White Album
I'm going to write up a 2007 playlist too, with, like:
Rihanna-"Umbrella"
Timbaland-"The Way I Are"
M.I.A.-"Paper Planes" (song of the year)
Jay-Z-"Blue Magic"
Los Campesinos-"Frontwards"
The White Stripes-"I'm Slowly Turning Into You"
Radiohead-"Reckoner"
...etc.
Talk to you!
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