What the HELL is this planet smoking?
I'm speechless.
I was thinking about shaving but I think I've changed my mind. I should go whole hog.
Today's Song of the Day is "Birds and Ships" by Billy Bragg and Wilco (and Natalie Merchant) off the 1998 Album "Mermaid Avenue."
Crazy Fact: In 1995, Woody Guthrie's daughter Nora contacted British urban folk troubadour Billy Bragg about writing music for a selection of completed Guthrie lyrics written between 1939 and 1967 that had no music other than a vague stylistic notation. add a dash of Wilco and you get this album. nutso (This song had been stuck in my head for over a week. Must Exorsise the DEMON.)
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Monday, October 04, 2004
Your Birthday. (MY BIRTHDAY!)
Suzanne, I think it sucks that everybody missed your birthday. (MY BIRTHDAY IS ON DECEMBER 5TH!) I feel like shit about it. (MY BIRTHDAY IS TWO MONTHS FROM NOW.) I'll do something to make it up to you, I promise. (I'll BE 32!!) I find it helps if sometimes you use subtle hints to help jog people's memories. (ME ME ME ME ME!) Like maybe you ask somebody when their birthday is and let it become a topic of conversation. (EVERYBODY! BUY ME PRESENTS AND BOOZE) Or ask for advice, like, talk about how unprepared you are for another trip around the sun. (REMEMBER: December FIFTH!) They'll take the hint. (I WAS BORN ON DECEMBER 5TH, 1972!) People are pretty self invovled, but if you give them a little reminder they'll show you their true colours. (DON'T FORGET MY BIRTHDAY!)
Today's Song of the Day is "Suzanne" by Leonard Cohen off his 1968 Album "Songs of Leonard Cohen."
Crazy Fact: He's OLD. no that's not crazy... He's Canadian, yeah that's tired... I'm tired. ok ok... His father died when Cohen was only nine years old. That bites.
njoy
Today's Song of the Day is "Suzanne" by Leonard Cohen off his 1968 Album "Songs of Leonard Cohen."
Crazy Fact: He's OLD. no that's not crazy... He's Canadian, yeah that's tired... I'm tired. ok ok... His father died when Cohen was only nine years old. That bites.
njoy
Sunday, October 03, 2004
My Brain is Hot and Itchy.
Everybody is so OLD in the 'real world' on this crazy alternate universe I spend all my time around people who are so young, that it has become the norm and the people 'my age' are now seeming freakishly old to me. The metamorphisis has begun. dude. Over years of weathering I happily became some very relaxed and loosely bonded sedimentary rock. Now those condidtions have changed DRASTICALLY. I'm buried in youngins, landslides of homework and under this extreme pressure I'm changing. I'm changing into metamorphic rock. I haven't learned about that yet. I don't know what that is. My Spidey Sense is tingling. I fear change.
Today's Song of the Day is "Rock On" by David Essex off his 1974 Album "Rock On."
Crazy Fact: In the 1990s Essex spend two and a half years in Africa for the Voluntary Service Overseas organization.
njoy
Today's Song of the Day is "Rock On" by David Essex off his 1974 Album "Rock On."
Crazy Fact: In the 1990s Essex spend two and a half years in Africa for the Voluntary Service Overseas organization.
njoy
Saturday, October 02, 2004
College Boy.
I learned about Black Matter in Calculus Class and then go to the Shoe to meet Mike for a drink. We yack about 'the ring.' When you morgage your life away for 7 months to buy a rare mineral attached to a little metal loop you talk about it a lot. I tell him the the diamond he has not yet purchased is already turning to graphite, because the conditions under which it was created are so drastically different then the conditions under which it now sits. He didn't like that,
"Shut up college boy."
Then, I told him all about Black Matter and it's relationship to the expansion and eventual collapse of the universe.
"Shut up college boy."
He's right. I am a college boy. It's happening. It's all happening.
Today's Song of the Day is "Ring Of Fire" by Johnny Cash off his 1963 album "Ring of Fire/The Best of Johnny Cash."
Crazy Fact: This song was written by his wife, June Carter-Cash, cool.
njoy
"Shut up college boy."
Then, I told him all about Black Matter and it's relationship to the expansion and eventual collapse of the universe.
"Shut up college boy."
He's right. I am a college boy. It's happening. It's all happening.
Today's Song of the Day is "Ring Of Fire" by Johnny Cash off his 1963 album "Ring of Fire/The Best of Johnny Cash."
Crazy Fact: This song was written by his wife, June Carter-Cash, cool.
njoy
Friday, October 01, 2004
The Equation of the Universe.
Thank you Dawn M., for having a birthday, leaving the house and being in my presence, so you could be the ONLY person who thinks it's cool that I learned something about Einstein's General Relativity, more importantly, what I've named, the equation of the universe. (If you plug in the density and distance of the pieces of the universe it will draw you a curve indicating the expansion and collapse of the universe over time.) The coolest component of this equation is K. K is an unknown (probably a constant) which is equal to the amount of Black Matter in the universe. When Ozzy (my math prof who sounds just like Ozzy Osborne) said that, well he might as well have said 'Beam me up Scotty' and transported himself to the Starship Enterprise.
This is loco hyper-crazy science fiction. Klingons might as well've burst into the room and disintegrated my bookbag. "BLACK MATTER" the words echoed in my head large empty head and I felt like intellectually I just got hit in the head with a frying pan. Where am I? It was as if, my robot companion turned to me and said that earlier that day he was talking to Wendy, the galactic space amoeba. I just learned some Cosmology and General Relativity. And I understood it. It's just a differential equation. WOW. That's is the coolest thing I have ever learned. WOW. A sentence indicating it's coolness must be punctuated on both sides with the word "WOW."
Anyway, no one else cared. So I'm telling everybody I know in the bar, but no one finds it even a little interesting (except Dawn.) So many beerses later I pay the bill and turn to help physically drag Dawn to the next bar. (work pffft. lousy reason to stop drinking) and some dude stops me:
'Hey. Hey, it's been a while but...' he opens his pack of cigarettes. What the hell? I'm rushed and start thinking of things to say before he does whatever he is doing. "No I never met you', 'No I quit.' Is he getting a joint out? 'I quit that too.' What is he doing? It seemed like he was moving in slow motion. Finally, he displays the inside of the cigarette package to me in which he has written Calculus equations:
Pif: "CALCULUS?! Your showing me CALCULUS!?"
I'm sort of angered and relieved and confused and intrigued and terrified all at the same time. I just filled my blood stream with just enough booze to forget about 'The most Feared subject in the UNIVERSity' (as it was called earlier that day) and here is this 'some dude' pushing his red-pen back of a cigarette pack calculus equations in my face.
Pif: "Dude. I must talk really loud.'
"PIIIIIF help!" the girls are struggling to pull Dawn out of the bar (more importantly to the next bar) and need another body. I am that other-body. So I'm forced to pull myself away from 'some dude, secret big-ear'd guru of the cigarette-pack calculus before I can share any of these idea's or feelings with him.
It's kinda too bad.
Today's Song of the Day is "Cosmic Girl" by Jamiroquai off their 1996 album 'Travelling Without Moving.'
Crazy Fact: In 1999 Jamiroquai turned down a million-dollar offer to play at a concert on New Year's Eve.
njoy
This is loco hyper-crazy science fiction. Klingons might as well've burst into the room and disintegrated my bookbag. "BLACK MATTER" the words echoed in my head large empty head and I felt like intellectually I just got hit in the head with a frying pan. Where am I? It was as if, my robot companion turned to me and said that earlier that day he was talking to Wendy, the galactic space amoeba. I just learned some Cosmology and General Relativity. And I understood it. It's just a differential equation. WOW. That's is the coolest thing I have ever learned. WOW. A sentence indicating it's coolness must be punctuated on both sides with the word "WOW."
Anyway, no one else cared. So I'm telling everybody I know in the bar, but no one finds it even a little interesting (except Dawn.) So many beerses later I pay the bill and turn to help physically drag Dawn to the next bar. (work pffft. lousy reason to stop drinking) and some dude stops me:
'Hey. Hey, it's been a while but...' he opens his pack of cigarettes. What the hell? I'm rushed and start thinking of things to say before he does whatever he is doing. "No I never met you', 'No I quit.' Is he getting a joint out? 'I quit that too.' What is he doing? It seemed like he was moving in slow motion. Finally, he displays the inside of the cigarette package to me in which he has written Calculus equations:
Pif: "CALCULUS?! Your showing me CALCULUS!?"
I'm sort of angered and relieved and confused and intrigued and terrified all at the same time. I just filled my blood stream with just enough booze to forget about 'The most Feared subject in the UNIVERSity' (as it was called earlier that day) and here is this 'some dude' pushing his red-pen back of a cigarette pack calculus equations in my face.
Pif: "Dude. I must talk really loud.'
"PIIIIIF help!" the girls are struggling to pull Dawn out of the bar (more importantly to the next bar) and need another body. I am that other-body. So I'm forced to pull myself away from 'some dude, secret big-ear'd guru of the cigarette-pack calculus before I can share any of these idea's or feelings with him.
It's kinda too bad.
Today's Song of the Day is "Cosmic Girl" by Jamiroquai off their 1996 album 'Travelling Without Moving.'
Crazy Fact: In 1999 Jamiroquai turned down a million-dollar offer to play at a concert on New Year's Eve.
njoy
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Old Lies Past Planted the Seed. Where's my Weed Wacker?
I always doubted parents and professors and grand parents who said (and a paraphrase), gettin' old dumbs you down. Well as usual they were right and I was wrong. I'm dumber then I was. These kids I go to school with are WAAY smarter than me and I find this very disappointing.
It's either that or When you're young you're convinced those old folks are so damn smart and someday you'll be just like them. Then when you 'get older' (whatever that means to you) and you assume your opinion of people 'your age', formed when you were a snotty-nosed kid. IE someone who knows everything, totally together, capable of anything, ect...
Well this just isn't true. So when your old enough that the significantly younger are 20, your in for it. Time for the ego to GO DOWN in fa- fa- F L A M E S. Everyone of the those twenty year-olds are manning anti-aircraft cannons shooting your, large, old, slow, over-confident ass to the ground. When you get hit the first time you think, 'oh that's just a kid what do they know, pffft' Now that I'm crawling through the wreckage lemmie tell you, they know a lot. The whole time your spirialling down to earth you're in utter disbelief, 'but, but, but I'm older and wiser, and they're just KIDS! That's impossible!' (say like Luke in Empire Strikes Back.)
So when you come to, you wander aimlessly through the wreckage of your self image, looking for some piece of truth to salvage, something that survived the merciless attack of the twenty year-olds, I'll tell you what I find when I find it.
But maybe the truth is that we were right when we were kids, those fucking old fuckers don't and didn't know jack. They just thought they did, and then we believed them, just as they did.
Today's Song of the Day is "It Was A Very Good Year " by Frank Sinatra, (composed my Ernie Drake) off his 1965 Album "September of My Years."
Crazy Fact: In 1993, he recorded the album Duets. After over 50 years of recordings this album became his biggest-selling album, with sales over 3,000,000 copies. Maybe crazy, maybe not so crazy.
njoy
It's either that or When you're young you're convinced those old folks are so damn smart and someday you'll be just like them. Then when you 'get older' (whatever that means to you) and you assume your opinion of people 'your age', formed when you were a snotty-nosed kid. IE someone who knows everything, totally together, capable of anything, ect...
Well this just isn't true. So when your old enough that the significantly younger are 20, your in for it. Time for the ego to GO DOWN in fa- fa- F L A M E S. Everyone of the those twenty year-olds are manning anti-aircraft cannons shooting your, large, old, slow, over-confident ass to the ground. When you get hit the first time you think, 'oh that's just a kid what do they know, pffft' Now that I'm crawling through the wreckage lemmie tell you, they know a lot. The whole time your spirialling down to earth you're in utter disbelief, 'but, but, but I'm older and wiser, and they're just KIDS! That's impossible!' (say like Luke in Empire Strikes Back.)
So when you come to, you wander aimlessly through the wreckage of your self image, looking for some piece of truth to salvage, something that survived the merciless attack of the twenty year-olds, I'll tell you what I find when I find it.
But maybe the truth is that we were right when we were kids, those fucking old fuckers don't and didn't know jack. They just thought they did, and then we believed them, just as they did.
Today's Song of the Day is "It Was A Very Good Year " by Frank Sinatra, (composed my Ernie Drake) off his 1965 Album "September of My Years."
Crazy Fact: In 1993, he recorded the album Duets. After over 50 years of recordings this album became his biggest-selling album, with sales over 3,000,000 copies. Maybe crazy, maybe not so crazy.
njoy
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Dartmouth is a Curse.
What a string of bad decisions:
Yeah I guess I'll buy the rest of my books today. (add 200 pounds to back pack, possible back-up career as Sherpa)
Yeah I guess I'll meet you for a drink. (get tipsy, c'mon nothin' wrong with tipsy)
Yeah I guess I'll argue Ethics with you. (You have a PhD in Philosophy, mentally I'm in traction)
Yeah I guess I'll play some poker. (get drunk, but I won 2 bucks!)
Yeah I guess I'll meet you in Hell to see 'Caledonia.' (Should've gone home, but they were great.)
Yeah I guess I'll leave after this beer. (don't leave.)
Yeah I guess I'll walk home, don't worry about it. (Should've slept on her couch.)
Yeah I guess this way is faster? (no, it's not)
I hates it. Walking home from the 'the bar' I went the wrong way and got stuck circumnavigating golf-course, therefore, walking for an extra 40 minutes. With 800 pounds of books on my back. Where the HELL did that golf course come from?!
Today's Song of the Day is "Can't Find My Way Home" by Blind Faith off their first and last ablum released in 1969, "Blind Faith."
Crazy Fact: At Madison Square Garden (their US debut) on July 12 in front of more than 20,000 people, a riot developed when fans charged the stage, only to be repulsed by the police; in the half-hour melee that ensued, Ginger Baker was clubbed on the head by a policeman who thought he was an interloper, and Winwood's piano was destroyed. YeHaw! (Wouldn't that be awesome if the police accidently club the Bushster at the GOP convention!)
Yeah I guess I'll buy the rest of my books today. (add 200 pounds to back pack, possible back-up career as Sherpa)
Yeah I guess I'll meet you for a drink. (get tipsy, c'mon nothin' wrong with tipsy)
Yeah I guess I'll argue Ethics with you. (You have a PhD in Philosophy, mentally I'm in traction)
Yeah I guess I'll play some poker. (get drunk, but I won 2 bucks!)
Yeah I guess I'll meet you in Hell to see 'Caledonia.' (Should've gone home, but they were great.)
Yeah I guess I'll leave after this beer. (don't leave.)
Yeah I guess I'll walk home, don't worry about it. (Should've slept on her couch.)
Yeah I guess this way is faster? (no, it's not)
I hates it. Walking home from the 'the bar' I went the wrong way and got stuck circumnavigating golf-course, therefore, walking for an extra 40 minutes. With 800 pounds of books on my back. Where the HELL did that golf course come from?!
Today's Song of the Day is "Can't Find My Way Home" by Blind Faith off their first and last ablum released in 1969, "Blind Faith."
Crazy Fact: At Madison Square Garden (their US debut) on July 12 in front of more than 20,000 people, a riot developed when fans charged the stage, only to be repulsed by the police; in the half-hour melee that ensued, Ginger Baker was clubbed on the head by a policeman who thought he was an interloper, and Winwood's piano was destroyed. YeHaw! (Wouldn't that be awesome if the police accidently club the Bushster at the GOP convention!)
Tuesday, September 28, 2004
Worst Episode Ever.
What can you do about geeks? Poor bastards.
So I'm on the Yellow School Bus, Lunch packed in my bag, with 'the Kids' chattering away in the background. There is one voice that grabs my attention from the front of the bus. I peer over the top of the high dark-green vinyl seat. Oh dude. He's talking about comic books. Not only is he talking about comic books, but, animately so. As the volume of his voice increases more and more people stop there conversations and turn towards the guy letting his geek flag fly. Ok to give you some idea of his vehemence is like he is standing on a desert island waving this flag for dear life trying to get the attention of the lone plane in the distance, it's as if his very existence hangs in the balance. Oh he got some attention all right, when he reaches his loudest and nerdiest crescendo everybody on the bus is silent astounded by his firebrand sermon of dorkdom, today's topic "How he'd kill superman."
Me in my Head: I wish McMurphy was driving this bus, I FEEEL like I'm in a nut-house, well more like a daycare, no like..Wha...?
The Lone Nerd: (loud) I COULDN'T Believe it, he had a WHOLE stack of Superman graphic novels!
Me in my Head: Uh-oh. dude, don't do it.
The Lone Nerd: (louder) It was awesome!
Me in my Head: That guy is trying to impress that girl with comic book stories?
The Girl: Really! Wow.
Me in my Head: Wow, it's working. And they met on the Big Yellow School Bus, how sweet. (chuckle)
The Lone Geek: (Really Excited) See you could make bullets out of Kryptonite, and load them in to any nearby semi-automatic or sub-machine gun.
Me in my Head: oh my god no... dude. Listen to yourself. Stop for your own sake. Please. please. p l e a s e.
The Lone Geek: (Near Bursting with excitement, but holding back) Well a Stupid man would fill up the clip with Kryponite Bullets. But then Superman would just be like 'Pow' and crush the gun.
Me in my Head: Maybe he'll find some Kryptonite on this field trip. (snicker)
The Lone Geek: (freaking out at the Fiendishness of His Plan) Not Me. I'd make the first five bullets normal so he'd be like 'haHA!' and then-
Me in my Head: DUDE! don't do it, calm the HELL down.
The Lone Geek: then after, (with Wild Abandon, waving his arms in the air) then he'd be like "AAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
The bus is silent.
It broke my heart. I have my nerd leanings: Computer Science Major, a whole collection of old 'Micronaughts' and 'Ghost Rider' up there, for example. Therefore seeing this 'comrade' crucify himself was really hard, and of course really funny, but did it HAVE to be SUPERMAN? Couldn't it have been something interesting or at least obscure, and not so LAME as superman. In the deeper circles of Nerddom he'd be outcast.
Today's Song of the Day is "O Superman (For Massenet)" by Laurie Anderson off her 1981 Album "Big Science"
Crazy Fact: After earning an M.F.A. in sculpture from Columbia University in 1972, Laurie Anderson taught art history and Egyptian architecture at City College. and Last I heard Lou Reed was her boyfriend.
njoy
So I'm on the Yellow School Bus, Lunch packed in my bag, with 'the Kids' chattering away in the background. There is one voice that grabs my attention from the front of the bus. I peer over the top of the high dark-green vinyl seat. Oh dude. He's talking about comic books. Not only is he talking about comic books, but, animately so. As the volume of his voice increases more and more people stop there conversations and turn towards the guy letting his geek flag fly. Ok to give you some idea of his vehemence is like he is standing on a desert island waving this flag for dear life trying to get the attention of the lone plane in the distance, it's as if his very existence hangs in the balance. Oh he got some attention all right, when he reaches his loudest and nerdiest crescendo everybody on the bus is silent astounded by his firebrand sermon of dorkdom, today's topic "How he'd kill superman."
Me in my Head: I wish McMurphy was driving this bus, I FEEEL like I'm in a nut-house, well more like a daycare, no like..Wha...?
The Lone Nerd: (loud) I COULDN'T Believe it, he had a WHOLE stack of Superman graphic novels!
Me in my Head: Uh-oh. dude, don't do it.
The Lone Nerd: (louder) It was awesome!
Me in my Head: That guy is trying to impress that girl with comic book stories?
The Girl: Really! Wow.
Me in my Head: Wow, it's working. And they met on the Big Yellow School Bus, how sweet. (chuckle)
The Lone Geek: (Really Excited) See you could make bullets out of Kryptonite, and load them in to any nearby semi-automatic or sub-machine gun.
Me in my Head: oh my god no... dude. Listen to yourself. Stop for your own sake. Please. please. p l e a s e.
The Lone Geek: (Near Bursting with excitement, but holding back) Well a Stupid man would fill up the clip with Kryponite Bullets. But then Superman would just be like 'Pow' and crush the gun.
Me in my Head: Maybe he'll find some Kryptonite on this field trip. (snicker)
The Lone Geek: (freaking out at the Fiendishness of His Plan) Not Me. I'd make the first five bullets normal so he'd be like 'haHA!' and then-
Me in my Head: DUDE! don't do it, calm the HELL down.
The Lone Geek: then after, (with Wild Abandon, waving his arms in the air) then he'd be like "AAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
The bus is silent.
It broke my heart. I have my nerd leanings: Computer Science Major, a whole collection of old 'Micronaughts' and 'Ghost Rider' up there, for example. Therefore seeing this 'comrade' crucify himself was really hard, and of course really funny, but did it HAVE to be SUPERMAN? Couldn't it have been something interesting or at least obscure, and not so LAME as superman. In the deeper circles of Nerddom he'd be outcast.
Today's Song of the Day is "O Superman (For Massenet)" by Laurie Anderson off her 1981 Album "Big Science"
Crazy Fact: After earning an M.F.A. in sculpture from Columbia University in 1972, Laurie Anderson taught art history and Egyptian architecture at City College. and Last I heard Lou Reed was her boyfriend.
njoy
Monday, September 27, 2004
Dawn of the Married.
Well this song goes out to Dawn and Michael who got married yesterday. Lucky bastards. Couldn't go. Damn Geolo...er... I'm sorry I couldn't attend I was "in the field."
In my humble opinion, I am the ULTIMATE Match-maker for getting you two together. I had to lie like a rug to get you two to leave my apartment together, I felt like a bastard at the time. But it proves Kant wrong with his half-baked 'lying is never the right move' theories (oh I'm not done with you yet, Immanuel, you fucker). Either way I you guys are so happy together it's, well... it's upsetting.
Anyway, this song represents how I think the Wedding Party went while I was in Cold Dark Dartmouth reading about Carbonic Acid. And this song reminds me off you, Dawn of the dead. Well the Betelguised part at least.
Enough with the wisenhiemer. Congratulations guys. I'm glad I could help.
Today's Song of the Day is "Jump In The Line (Shake, Shake, Shake Senora)" by Harry Belafonte (and The Trinidad Steel Band) off his 1961 Album "Jump Up Calypso."
Crazy Fact: His 1962 album 'The Midnight Special,' featured the first-ever recorded appearance by a young harmonica player named Bob Dylan. (ooo. That's a GOOD one.)
njoy
In my humble opinion, I am the ULTIMATE Match-maker for getting you two together. I had to lie like a rug to get you two to leave my apartment together, I felt like a bastard at the time. But it proves Kant wrong with his half-baked 'lying is never the right move' theories (oh I'm not done with you yet, Immanuel, you fucker). Either way I you guys are so happy together it's, well... it's upsetting.
Anyway, this song represents how I think the Wedding Party went while I was in Cold Dark Dartmouth reading about Carbonic Acid. And this song reminds me off you, Dawn of the dead. Well the Betelguised part at least.
Enough with the wisenhiemer. Congratulations guys. I'm glad I could help.
Today's Song of the Day is "Jump In The Line (Shake, Shake, Shake Senora)" by Harry Belafonte (and The Trinidad Steel Band) off his 1961 Album "Jump Up Calypso."
Crazy Fact: His 1962 album 'The Midnight Special,' featured the first-ever recorded appearance by a young harmonica player named Bob Dylan. (ooo. That's a GOOD one.)
njoy
Sunday, September 26, 2004
McMurphy, Bust Me Outta Here.
The big yellow school bus sits. Staring at me. I must get in the big yellow school bus. But, a part of me has to DIE before I get in the big yellow school bus. When anyone else in my geology class looked over there I'm sure they see a bus. When I look over there, I see a fist, with one middle finger defiantly raised in the air. Did it have to be Yellow? Right now the lunch packed in my bag is weighing heavily on my mind, intensifying the insult. I'm NOT in Junior High right. Right? Obviously that fist wants to crush my ego. Which is not such a bad idea, it's just hard as feldspar (HA! I Learneded sompin' Paw!) these days, stubbornly holding on to the old out-molded workin' boy ways. Speaking of which. Last nights beer, disturbed from it slumber is angrily brewing it's terrible gurgling hot chemistry in my guts.
This gives me the fear.
Turns out, this was about the best thing that could happen to me. I lined up, got checked of the attendance sheet (AAAAA!) and got on the bus, without a thought of being offended by the process. I was concentrating all the powers of my mind on my bung-hole. Deep in concentration on the all important sanity threatening question of "Is that a fart? or is that... something else." If I get this wrong, I'm up shit-creek. Literally. Yeah, the old guy shit himself on the bus on the way to the beach. fitting. While I was playing chicken with my butt, some guy near me opened all the windows he could reach. I didn't make the connection till just now. Poor bastards, I was gassing them and didn't even have the decency to be embarrassed about it.
Today's Song of the Day is "Magic Bus" by The Who off their 1968 Album "Magic Bus."
Crazy Fact: Roger Daltrey was spotted on an info-merical selling out to some sixities CD Compliation. That's just awful.
njoy
This gives me the fear.
Turns out, this was about the best thing that could happen to me. I lined up, got checked of the attendance sheet (AAAAA!) and got on the bus, without a thought of being offended by the process. I was concentrating all the powers of my mind on my bung-hole. Deep in concentration on the all important sanity threatening question of "Is that a fart? or is that... something else." If I get this wrong, I'm up shit-creek. Literally. Yeah, the old guy shit himself on the bus on the way to the beach. fitting. While I was playing chicken with my butt, some guy near me opened all the windows he could reach. I didn't make the connection till just now. Poor bastards, I was gassing them and didn't even have the decency to be embarrassed about it.
Today's Song of the Day is "Magic Bus" by The Who off their 1968 Album "Magic Bus."
Crazy Fact: Roger Daltrey was spotted on an info-merical selling out to some sixities CD Compliation. That's just awful.
njoy
Saturday, September 25, 2004
A Scatological Fear Rules Me.
(please follow the link under the title it is FUCKING FUNNY!)
I have one Major fear. We all have them and they're always unique and specific. Mine is no different.
I don't want to shit myself on the bus.
If I were to shit myself anywhere else the first emotion I would feel would be relief, "Thank God I'm NOT on the bus." I'd be SO happy about it I'd probably pick up the phone and call all my friends in fits of hysterical chatter "I shit my self WHOOOOOO! It's Awesome! I was watching tv and I shit myself! It's in my pants RIGHT NOW! Really! WHOOOO! I'll save you some! Come over you HAVE to see this"
The idea of shitting myself on the bus. Having to sit in it, bumping and winding through streets. Smelling it, knowing everyone else is triangulating that shit smell to you. Looking at you in that awful florescent light. Trying to figure out why your not doing anything about it. Realizing there is nothing you can do about it, and then for the rest of the trip silently smelling and pitying your shit covered ass with a pungent mixture of disgust and compassion.
Seeping through your clothes. Getting on the seat. Getting on everything. And at the top of this stinking heaping of inconveniently and public placed shit, is your face. I'd die. After I died. I'd have to wait for my stop. Minutes would be as hours as your brain traced the route from your present location to home, again and again and again. Then you have to peel your ass off the shitty seat and your shitty pants slip away from your legs and you yank that cord. Then sit inevitably back into your own shit. Then you wade through a lifetimes worth of embarrassment as you waddle slowly and past everyone on the bus, ass blanketed in shit face bathed in shame. Their pity and disgust reaching a deafening crescendo. Then the final gauntlet, terrible in it's own right, the walk home. Let's hope it not a long walk. The less time you have to feel your own cooling feces slide down the inside of your leg, jerking a little closer to the bottom of your pant leg with every step. Like a trail of bread crumbs, your feces traces the final leg of your, shameful, foul-smelling sojourn home.
I wouldn't leave the house for a year.
Today's Song of the Day is "Baby Elephant Walk" by Henry Mancini off the 1962 Album "Hatari! (The Original Motion Picture Score)"
Crazy Fact: Henry Mancini won four Oscars and twenty Grammys, the all-time record for a pop artist.
njoy
I have one Major fear. We all have them and they're always unique and specific. Mine is no different.
I don't want to shit myself on the bus.
If I were to shit myself anywhere else the first emotion I would feel would be relief, "Thank God I'm NOT on the bus." I'd be SO happy about it I'd probably pick up the phone and call all my friends in fits of hysterical chatter "I shit my self WHOOOOOO! It's Awesome! I was watching tv and I shit myself! It's in my pants RIGHT NOW! Really! WHOOOO! I'll save you some! Come over you HAVE to see this"
The idea of shitting myself on the bus. Having to sit in it, bumping and winding through streets. Smelling it, knowing everyone else is triangulating that shit smell to you. Looking at you in that awful florescent light. Trying to figure out why your not doing anything about it. Realizing there is nothing you can do about it, and then for the rest of the trip silently smelling and pitying your shit covered ass with a pungent mixture of disgust and compassion.
Seeping through your clothes. Getting on the seat. Getting on everything. And at the top of this stinking heaping of inconveniently and public placed shit, is your face. I'd die. After I died. I'd have to wait for my stop. Minutes would be as hours as your brain traced the route from your present location to home, again and again and again. Then you have to peel your ass off the shitty seat and your shitty pants slip away from your legs and you yank that cord. Then sit inevitably back into your own shit. Then you wade through a lifetimes worth of embarrassment as you waddle slowly and past everyone on the bus, ass blanketed in shit face bathed in shame. Their pity and disgust reaching a deafening crescendo. Then the final gauntlet, terrible in it's own right, the walk home. Let's hope it not a long walk. The less time you have to feel your own cooling feces slide down the inside of your leg, jerking a little closer to the bottom of your pant leg with every step. Like a trail of bread crumbs, your feces traces the final leg of your, shameful, foul-smelling sojourn home.
I wouldn't leave the house for a year.
Today's Song of the Day is "Baby Elephant Walk" by Henry Mancini off the 1962 Album "Hatari! (The Original Motion Picture Score)"
Crazy Fact: Henry Mancini won four Oscars and twenty Grammys, the all-time record for a pop artist.
njoy
Friday, September 24, 2004
Sesame Street
I'm old.
SOOO I'm in my Geology Class or as my good Munich living friend EV calls it 'The Dirt Sciences' Class. It's early i'm sleepy. From here on it goes down hill.
It's announced that we have to go on a field trip. This makes me feel like I'm in junior high and I'm working again in one fell swoop:
"I have to work the WEEKEND!?" and "Wicked! Field trip! no no no wait... field trip? What am I... ten? WTF?"
While I'm trying to calm my poor panicked brain bursting with painful probing questions like "WHO AM I?" "Where AM I" "What am I DOING Here?" "How did..but...NO WAY... this ISN'T..you FUCKING..." It is at this point the prof says something seemingly unworthy of comment in our increasingly difficult legal world that becomes my most horrible Dal moment yet:
Ms. Ryan: I'll have to get you all to sign a waiver, so you can't sue us. It's a technicality really.
Me in my Head: sure that makes sense... A FIELD TRIP!? What fucking GRADE am... look just call it 'going out into the field..." yeah. ok. That sounds better...
Ms. Ryan: Now if any of you are under nineteen your going to have to get your parents to sign it.
Me Bursting out of my Head: You didn't hear anything. DO YOU HEAR ME! Just look straight ahead. don't even think abou...
Ms. Ryan: If you are under nineteen raise your hand.
Me Trying to Hide in my Head: Don't turn around. DON'T turn around! DON'T... (I look. There is a forest of mid-eighties Born hands in the Air)
Ms. Ryan: That's just about all of you isn't it.
Me Running Amok with an AXE inside my Head: *Pop!* ( <-- the sound of a vein popping in my head) AAAAAAAAAAAAA! One of these things is not like the other! One of these things is not like the other! One of these things is not like the other!
Today's Song of the Day is "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" by The Band off their 1969 Album "The Band."
Crazy Fact: These Guys are Canadian! (Mildy crazy.) (big ups to VR for the link)
njoy
SOOO I'm in my Geology Class or as my good Munich living friend EV calls it 'The Dirt Sciences' Class. It's early i'm sleepy. From here on it goes down hill.
It's announced that we have to go on a field trip. This makes me feel like I'm in junior high and I'm working again in one fell swoop:
"I have to work the WEEKEND!?" and "Wicked! Field trip! no no no wait... field trip? What am I... ten? WTF?"
While I'm trying to calm my poor panicked brain bursting with painful probing questions like "WHO AM I?" "Where AM I" "What am I DOING Here?" "How did..but...NO WAY... this ISN'T..you FUCKING..." It is at this point the prof says something seemingly unworthy of comment in our increasingly difficult legal world that becomes my most horrible Dal moment yet:
Ms. Ryan: I'll have to get you all to sign a waiver, so you can't sue us. It's a technicality really.
Me in my Head: sure that makes sense... A FIELD TRIP!? What fucking GRADE am... look just call it 'going out into the field..." yeah. ok. That sounds better...
Ms. Ryan: Now if any of you are under nineteen your going to have to get your parents to sign it.
Me Bursting out of my Head: You didn't hear anything. DO YOU HEAR ME! Just look straight ahead. don't even think abou...
Ms. Ryan: If you are under nineteen raise your hand.
Me Trying to Hide in my Head: Don't turn around. DON'T turn around! DON'T... (I look. There is a forest of mid-eighties Born hands in the Air)
Ms. Ryan: That's just about all of you isn't it.
Me Running Amok with an AXE inside my Head: *Pop!* ( <-- the sound of a vein popping in my head) AAAAAAAAAAAAA! One of these things is not like the other! One of these things is not like the other! One of these things is not like the other!
Today's Song of the Day is "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" by The Band off their 1969 Album "The Band."
Crazy Fact: These Guys are Canadian! (Mildy crazy.) (big ups to VR for the link)
njoy
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Poor Company In The Company Store.
Odd. Having just come out the the working world to the student world, my universe has been gutted and it's entrails examined. And I'll tell you what. Working is easier than being a student (who is actually trying to get good marks. The first time around didn't count.) No doubt in my mind. See when you work, you work your ass off and they give you CASH (and it's not enough cash.) When your a student you work your ass and they give you a MARK (and it's not high enough.) One hour at ANY job will earn you the priviage of AT LEAST one beer. Well I just found out that I can't go down to the bar and whip out my not highenoughmarked Geology Assignment and trade it for even one beer. Even if it's an A.
Did you know this?
I was shocked.
What a rip. AND they make you pay 6500.000 bucks to do it. dude. I think you got it wrong. I work hard you, give me cash, see? That's the way the world works. Then they have this company store attitude. Buy these overpriced books from us or fail (get fired). (600/term!!!) Oh and if you want to print on Campus (work) that's 10 cents a sheet. And you HAVE to print on campus. Where the HELL are the labour laws. I think I hate this crazy bizarro world.
Today's Song of the Day is 'Once In A Lifetime" by Talking Heads off their 1984 album 'Stop Making Sense.'
Crazy Fact: Their 'big break' came in 1975 when the band won a spot opening for the Ramones at the seminal New York punk club CBGB.
njoy
Did you know this?
I was shocked.
What a rip. AND they make you pay 6500.000 bucks to do it. dude. I think you got it wrong. I work hard you, give me cash, see? That's the way the world works. Then they have this company store attitude. Buy these overpriced books from us or fail (get fired). (600/term!!!) Oh and if you want to print on Campus (work) that's 10 cents a sheet. And you HAVE to print on campus. Where the HELL are the labour laws. I think I hate this crazy bizarro world.
Today's Song of the Day is 'Once In A Lifetime" by Talking Heads off their 1984 album 'Stop Making Sense.'
Crazy Fact: Their 'big break' came in 1975 when the band won a spot opening for the Ramones at the seminal New York punk club CBGB.
njoy
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
He Retarded Me with Science.
I sit in calculus class understanding everything. Totally following everything he says (with a little work, granted, but by the end of the class I understand.) So today I stay after-class for the "optional tutorial.' Cool. I'm sure I need all the help I can get. 60 or so in the class. 57 leave. So me and the remedial remainder stare at him blankly as his asks what he wants him to do for us.
The 3 Retarded Borg: 'uuumm...'
Teach: 'I fink I'll do anuva derivative equaytion, fat way we can look limits too'
The Collected Retarded: (we nod our head in understanding as he solves the problem.)
Teach: 'Ok so you guys do this one. It's a simple one.'
Sure. I write it down. I look at it. I get to work. (pause) I have NO IDEA what to do.
It seems the universe turned on the retardation ray. It's a heat lamp right above my head. Whenever he looks at me the temperature goes up. If he speaks directly to me it is as if I stuck my head into a sun. I am utterly overwhelmed. Utterly retarded. I don't know how to speak or think or move. I can only sense two things: fear and retardation. At this point, these dependant variables are nearing infinity. I just want to say the thing that makes him go away. As soon as I do or say that thing (even though I don't know what that was I was incapable of rational thought at that point). I take my head out of the sun, pack up and leave. I try not to run.
Today's Song of the Day is "Let's Get Retarded" by Black Eyed Peas off their 2003 album "Elephunk." (I had to.)
Crazy Fact: Eazy-E's Ruthless Records signed the group in 1992, but many in the Ruthless camp were puzzled by the group and the enthusiasm of Eazy (of NWA), who had no problem reconciling his own gangster style with the peace-minded breakdancing of these cats.
njoy
The 3 Retarded Borg: 'uuumm...'
Teach: 'I fink I'll do anuva derivative equaytion, fat way we can look limits too'
The Collected Retarded: (we nod our head in understanding as he solves the problem.)
Teach: 'Ok so you guys do this one. It's a simple one.'
Sure. I write it down. I look at it. I get to work. (pause) I have NO IDEA what to do.
It seems the universe turned on the retardation ray. It's a heat lamp right above my head. Whenever he looks at me the temperature goes up. If he speaks directly to me it is as if I stuck my head into a sun. I am utterly overwhelmed. Utterly retarded. I don't know how to speak or think or move. I can only sense two things: fear and retardation. At this point, these dependant variables are nearing infinity. I just want to say the thing that makes him go away. As soon as I do or say that thing (even though I don't know what that was I was incapable of rational thought at that point). I take my head out of the sun, pack up and leave. I try not to run.
Today's Song of the Day is "Let's Get Retarded" by Black Eyed Peas off their 2003 album "Elephunk." (I had to.)
Crazy Fact: Eazy-E's Ruthless Records signed the group in 1992, but many in the Ruthless camp were puzzled by the group and the enthusiasm of Eazy (of NWA), who had no problem reconciling his own gangster style with the peace-minded breakdancing of these cats.
njoy
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
DJ Eighties. (part six)
'Hi. I'm Darren's roommate, you...and you know...that time...'
It's really loud and I can't really hear what she's saying, and I'm probably pathetically drunk.
'I'm sorry I don't remember...'
'You NEVER Remember me!'
I remember. 'Oh YEAH ERIN. You're Darren's roommate! Yeah I never remember you! I remember you now!'
'yeah.'
'hey... So... How are you doing?'
'good, good.'
She is REALLY cute.
Now I remember feeling like an idiot for not remembering her the first-time again.
Super-nice smile.
There's something else, i'm not sure... she has a relaxing effect on me and... and well... she's like butter. That's the best way to describe her. She is warm and comfy. perfectly salty, yum. With the nicest warm-yellow glow. sunny. Butter makes everything just a little better, and the fools mistake margarine for butter, the smart ones can tell the difference. Without it, so many of my meals are lacking, it's essential. To me there is no substitute, smooth and comforting.
Kevin, who's fighting for drinks with the crowd, looks back. He can tell the difference this time. He turns back with re-newed purpose and fights the good fight with the remaining, desperate alkies.
'So did you like the show?'
'yeah very much.'
'I stood up right and the front taking it all in.'
'yeah, it's was really really good'
'Today's my birthday!'
Kevin returns, plunks a beer in front of me and one in front of her, 'Your a Leo! That's good news,' Kevin gives me the thumbs up.
She looks at me and smiles and looks down.
'Wow. Happy birthday! How old!
'Today I turned 26.'
'cheers to you.'
A guy steps in to make a move on Erin, Kevin anticipates the move and steps in-between like a body guard taking a bullet it was awesome.
'Did you see that? Your friend totally cut that guy off it was awesome!'
'Hahaha. Yeah, he's pretty happy I'm talking to a girl.'
'really?' She says with a laugh. I think she says everything on the edge of a laugh.
'He has spent the whole night singing my praises to every girl in this bar.'
'Any luck?'
'Well one girl said I look like Jesus'
'I can see that.' she laughs.
TIME TO GO! EVERYBODY DOWN STAIRS. LET MOOOVE PEOPLE!
Instead of flashing back to a million panicked moments. I'm calm, I'm focused, I'm happy. I'm surprised. I wonder why? Well this time I don't run for it. Who knows why.
'my hand is bigger?'
'really?' she laughs
'l think I got an extra key on you.'
'Look at that.' eyes bright. 'I loved Chopin.'
'Me too.'
'the Nocturnes.'
'They're thoughtful.'
'yes they are.'
Wait. I think I know why. because it's not forced. It's not obvious. it's not anonymous. It's not pre-determined. I have no expectations. It's the things it is, as much as the things that it's not that make it...well properly undefined.
People leave and we make are way out in a subtly questioning, carefully interested, delicately available sort of way.
For all of Kevin's valiant efforts, this seemed to make itself, in just the way it needed to be made. This suited my taste perfectly. I liked that. To me, it means there's hope for the weird guy. The guy who, when it matters, gives all the wrong signals. It means there's still room for failure in this nearly 'perfect' world we've created. This cult of perfection: the hair, the clothes, the look; the wit, the social grace, the charisma have not eaten the humanity out of humanity. Not to mention it's still possible for a real connection to be made in any stinking gin palace.
Today's Song of the Day is "Nocturne No. 2, Op. 9 in E-flat" performed by Artur Rubinstein, composed by Frederic Chopin in 1832.
Crazy Fact: In 1838 Freddy Chopin began an affair with French novelist George Sand. The affair ended in 1847 after, among other things, Sand had portrayed their relationship unflatteringly in her 1846 novel Lucrezia Floriani. Yikes!
njoy
It's really loud and I can't really hear what she's saying, and I'm probably pathetically drunk.
'I'm sorry I don't remember...'
'You NEVER Remember me!'
I remember. 'Oh YEAH ERIN. You're Darren's roommate! Yeah I never remember you! I remember you now!'
'yeah.'
'hey... So... How are you doing?'
'good, good.'
She is REALLY cute.
Now I remember feeling like an idiot for not remembering her the first-time again.
Super-nice smile.
There's something else, i'm not sure... she has a relaxing effect on me and... and well... she's like butter. That's the best way to describe her. She is warm and comfy. perfectly salty, yum. With the nicest warm-yellow glow. sunny. Butter makes everything just a little better, and the fools mistake margarine for butter, the smart ones can tell the difference. Without it, so many of my meals are lacking, it's essential. To me there is no substitute, smooth and comforting.
Kevin, who's fighting for drinks with the crowd, looks back. He can tell the difference this time. He turns back with re-newed purpose and fights the good fight with the remaining, desperate alkies.
'So did you like the show?'
'yeah very much.'
'I stood up right and the front taking it all in.'
'yeah, it's was really really good'
'Today's my birthday!'
Kevin returns, plunks a beer in front of me and one in front of her, 'Your a Leo! That's good news,' Kevin gives me the thumbs up.
She looks at me and smiles and looks down.
'Wow. Happy birthday! How old!
'Today I turned 26.'
'cheers to you.'
A guy steps in to make a move on Erin, Kevin anticipates the move and steps in-between like a body guard taking a bullet it was awesome.
'Did you see that? Your friend totally cut that guy off it was awesome!'
'Hahaha. Yeah, he's pretty happy I'm talking to a girl.'
'really?' She says with a laugh. I think she says everything on the edge of a laugh.
'He has spent the whole night singing my praises to every girl in this bar.'
'Any luck?'
'Well one girl said I look like Jesus'
'I can see that.' she laughs.
TIME TO GO! EVERYBODY DOWN STAIRS. LET MOOOVE PEOPLE!
Instead of flashing back to a million panicked moments. I'm calm, I'm focused, I'm happy. I'm surprised. I wonder why? Well this time I don't run for it. Who knows why.
'my hand is bigger?'
'really?' she laughs
'l think I got an extra key on you.'
'Look at that.' eyes bright. 'I loved Chopin.'
'Me too.'
'the Nocturnes.'
'They're thoughtful.'
'yes they are.'
Wait. I think I know why. because it's not forced. It's not obvious. it's not anonymous. It's not pre-determined. I have no expectations. It's the things it is, as much as the things that it's not that make it...well properly undefined.
People leave and we make are way out in a subtly questioning, carefully interested, delicately available sort of way.
For all of Kevin's valiant efforts, this seemed to make itself, in just the way it needed to be made. This suited my taste perfectly. I liked that. To me, it means there's hope for the weird guy. The guy who, when it matters, gives all the wrong signals. It means there's still room for failure in this nearly 'perfect' world we've created. This cult of perfection: the hair, the clothes, the look; the wit, the social grace, the charisma have not eaten the humanity out of humanity. Not to mention it's still possible for a real connection to be made in any stinking gin palace.
Today's Song of the Day is "Nocturne No. 2, Op. 9 in E-flat" performed by Artur Rubinstein, composed by Frederic Chopin in 1832.
Crazy Fact: In 1838 Freddy Chopin began an affair with French novelist George Sand. The affair ended in 1847 after, among other things, Sand had portrayed their relationship unflatteringly in her 1846 novel Lucrezia Floriani. Yikes!
njoy
Monday, September 20, 2004
DJ Eighties. (part five)
'hey man! how doing!'
'good man. good.'
short pause.
'So... we need to get you a girlfriend.'
I didn't like that look in his eye, it was hungry with help. Like many things, it made me nervous. After pausing too long, unsure of what to say, I croaked, 'yeah, boy do we ever.'
'Ok lets go find you one.'
'Whoa here? now?'
'Yup.'
'look, I'm not so good at meeting girls.'
'oh come on, it's easy'
'I'm actually pretty shy, in my own way.'
'oh come on.'
He put another beer in my hand and grabs my arm. He peers over the crowd, picks his target and drags me over to the first, and most importantly, the closes female contestant.
I quickly put on my best forced and awkward smile.
'hey how you doing?'
'fine.'
'This is my friend and he is without a doubt the best guy in this bar.'
'really.'
I blush and turn from the unbearable embarrassment. This is too much, it's fun, I'm totally without responsibility, but still, I'm emotionally incapable of handling the situation. I take a few steps back lean against the wall, smile and squirm uncontrollably just out of ear shot, taking momentary glimpses at my representative and the contestant. After an obviously cheerful and witty banter between the two of them, he comes back to me looking for new faces,
'No good. Keep looking. How about her.'
He's got my arm and we're off again. I take a position just out of earshot. My advocate gestures and talks animatedly with contestant number two, obviously, he's got skills and no fear. She laughs. She giggles, she turns and looks at me. She gives a little wave. I wave back. She Asian and very very cute, wow, he can talk to anybody. I try desperately to finish one of the two beers in my hands so I'm not 'two-fistin' 'er' which I'm sure is very attractive to all the wrong people. I finally clean out one of them and Kevin's back.
'Nope, No Good, Let's keep going.'
Upstairs downstairs he tries. He puts me on the auction block and nobodies bidding. Fortunately, he is drowning me in beer otherwise I'd feel rejected by every girl in the bar, which by the time we finished, was essentially true. But with the all the beer in my brain, it just seemed kinda like a race, i'm not sure what for but the less I thought about it the better. I'll just live in the moment.
We sat down for a moment to take a break at my request. Kevin runs off to get more beer. I think I'm in trouble, he has a much higher tolerance then I do. There's a tap on my back. I turn and it's contestant number two.
'Why are you so shy?'
'umm... I guess it's my nature.' awkward
'oh.' she smiles
'umm... Where are you from?' awkwarder
'Korea.'
'Really! That's pretty cool. How long are you here?' feeling better.
'another week, I'm recruiting for ESL school in Korea.'
'oh that's pretty cool.' this is ok.
kevin comes back with a beer in one hand and double rum and coke in the other, he stops in his tracks and wears a stunned, but pleased expression.
she continues, 'Do you know what?'
'what?' felling pretty good.
'You look like Jesus.' she giggles
'wow. oh well, thanks. I'm.. umm.' awkwardest.
'Well it's good talking to you.'
'yeah yeah for sure.' fight urge to run.
'cya.'
Kevin sits down incredulous,
'dude, you should have closed that.'
'see I'm no good at this, she seems really nice and pretty but, I can't do this. It's weird, it's...'
'you could have totally closed that.'
'well, like I said, I'm shy it's hard. I...'
'she is sitting right over there, go talk to her...'
'no no no just forget about her, well will find someone else.'
I'm ready to run at this point, but fortunately, this seemed to satisfy him, thankfully and we moved on. I know his heart is in the right place, but, the closer to 'closing the deal' the more uncomfortable I become. It's forced and awkward and worst of all it's obvious. I can't stomach it.
We take another tour of duty and I'm exhausted, I can't deal any more, I'd just be happy to go home. We sit in the smoking room and Kevin makes the last trip to the bar as it's quarter after 3 in the am. I'm slouched over, drained, frustrated and spent. I look to my right and a girl comes up the stairs, looks at me, stops, smiles, looks at the floor, looks back at me and walks over, I've never seen her before, she's definitely not one of the nightly contestants so far interviewed.
(to be continued)
Today's Song of the Day is "Jenifa Taught Me (Derwin's Revenge)" by De La Soul off their 1989 debut album "3 Feet High and Rising."
Crazy Fact: The stage names of all of the members derived from in-jokes: Posdnuos (born Kelvin Mercer, August 17, 1969) was an inversion of Mercer's DJ name, Sound-Sop; Trugoy the Dove (born David Jude Jolicoeur, September 21, 1968) was an inversion of Jolicoeur's favorite food, yogurt. I don't know about Pasemaster Mase (born Vincent Mason, March 27, 1970.)
njoy
'good man. good.'
short pause.
'So... we need to get you a girlfriend.'
I didn't like that look in his eye, it was hungry with help. Like many things, it made me nervous. After pausing too long, unsure of what to say, I croaked, 'yeah, boy do we ever.'
'Ok lets go find you one.'
'Whoa here? now?'
'Yup.'
'look, I'm not so good at meeting girls.'
'oh come on, it's easy'
'I'm actually pretty shy, in my own way.'
'oh come on.'
He put another beer in my hand and grabs my arm. He peers over the crowd, picks his target and drags me over to the first, and most importantly, the closes female contestant.
I quickly put on my best forced and awkward smile.
'hey how you doing?'
'fine.'
'This is my friend and he is without a doubt the best guy in this bar.'
'really.'
I blush and turn from the unbearable embarrassment. This is too much, it's fun, I'm totally without responsibility, but still, I'm emotionally incapable of handling the situation. I take a few steps back lean against the wall, smile and squirm uncontrollably just out of ear shot, taking momentary glimpses at my representative and the contestant. After an obviously cheerful and witty banter between the two of them, he comes back to me looking for new faces,
'No good. Keep looking. How about her.'
He's got my arm and we're off again. I take a position just out of earshot. My advocate gestures and talks animatedly with contestant number two, obviously, he's got skills and no fear. She laughs. She giggles, she turns and looks at me. She gives a little wave. I wave back. She Asian and very very cute, wow, he can talk to anybody. I try desperately to finish one of the two beers in my hands so I'm not 'two-fistin' 'er' which I'm sure is very attractive to all the wrong people. I finally clean out one of them and Kevin's back.
'Nope, No Good, Let's keep going.'
Upstairs downstairs he tries. He puts me on the auction block and nobodies bidding. Fortunately, he is drowning me in beer otherwise I'd feel rejected by every girl in the bar, which by the time we finished, was essentially true. But with the all the beer in my brain, it just seemed kinda like a race, i'm not sure what for but the less I thought about it the better. I'll just live in the moment.
We sat down for a moment to take a break at my request. Kevin runs off to get more beer. I think I'm in trouble, he has a much higher tolerance then I do. There's a tap on my back. I turn and it's contestant number two.
'Why are you so shy?'
'umm... I guess it's my nature.' awkward
'oh.' she smiles
'umm... Where are you from?' awkwarder
'Korea.'
'Really! That's pretty cool. How long are you here?' feeling better.
'another week, I'm recruiting for ESL school in Korea.'
'oh that's pretty cool.' this is ok.
kevin comes back with a beer in one hand and double rum and coke in the other, he stops in his tracks and wears a stunned, but pleased expression.
she continues, 'Do you know what?'
'what?' felling pretty good.
'You look like Jesus.' she giggles
'wow. oh well, thanks. I'm.. umm.' awkwardest.
'Well it's good talking to you.'
'yeah yeah for sure.' fight urge to run.
'cya.'
Kevin sits down incredulous,
'dude, you should have closed that.'
'see I'm no good at this, she seems really nice and pretty but, I can't do this. It's weird, it's...'
'you could have totally closed that.'
'well, like I said, I'm shy it's hard. I...'
'she is sitting right over there, go talk to her...'
'no no no just forget about her, well will find someone else.'
I'm ready to run at this point, but fortunately, this seemed to satisfy him, thankfully and we moved on. I know his heart is in the right place, but, the closer to 'closing the deal' the more uncomfortable I become. It's forced and awkward and worst of all it's obvious. I can't stomach it.
We take another tour of duty and I'm exhausted, I can't deal any more, I'd just be happy to go home. We sit in the smoking room and Kevin makes the last trip to the bar as it's quarter after 3 in the am. I'm slouched over, drained, frustrated and spent. I look to my right and a girl comes up the stairs, looks at me, stops, smiles, looks at the floor, looks back at me and walks over, I've never seen her before, she's definitely not one of the nightly contestants so far interviewed.
(to be continued)
Today's Song of the Day is "Jenifa Taught Me (Derwin's Revenge)" by De La Soul off their 1989 debut album "3 Feet High and Rising."
Crazy Fact: The stage names of all of the members derived from in-jokes: Posdnuos (born Kelvin Mercer, August 17, 1969) was an inversion of Mercer's DJ name, Sound-Sop; Trugoy the Dove (born David Jude Jolicoeur, September 21, 1968) was an inversion of Jolicoeur's favorite food, yogurt. I don't know about Pasemaster Mase (born Vincent Mason, March 27, 1970.)
njoy
Sunday, September 19, 2004
DJ Eighties. (part four)
The video started up beside the turn tables, Showing DJ Qbert spinning and scratching to crowded stadiums, signing women's breasts, guy's heads, crazy dancers. ok ok this is good this is VERY promising. I can officially say he is NOT DJ Eighties. He has a custom made turn-table called the QFO. Alright this is cool. The video made him look like a Hip-hop uber-DJ, lord of the surrounding realms, commander of thousands in a hip-hop crusade to re-make the world in a hipper hopper image. I like that. And he seemed unassuming in demeanor, he's all skills, no macho. I like that too.
The crowd was getting pumped up
'Mix Master Mike is in the House! y'all!' The crowd freaks out, screaming and jumping up and down.
'really?'
'wow, that's cool.'
'totally!'
This made me happy, the good news was pouring in. Praise God I've heard the good news! Redemption is on it's way.
'Jamie?'
'yup?
'I have the feeling I'm going to meet someone tonight?'
'yeah?'
'yeah. I don't know why?
'here's hoping, cheers.'
I don't know why I thought that. But I did. every once in a while you get that feeling. It's always bang on. I'm sure there's a non-flakey assed reason for this, but I'm happy either way.
The place was packed. the crowded dance floor was screaming and pulsing, arms in the air, the lights were flashing and spinning and the music was pumping and rumbling.
'DEE JAY QUE BERRRRT!"
The crowd goes nuts, people are jumping and screaming, freaking out like Jesus just stepped out on stage in on a Pentacostal Sunday.
He goes straight to the turn-table and gets to it.
My prayers were answered. He was incredible. Most of the time you look around and people would just be shaking there heads in incredulity. I had never seen anything like it. There were three video camera's on him at all times and a bunch of guys taking pictures. They projected closed-circuit live video on the screen and at thirty frames a second his hands were a blur, his fingers hardly even registered. This went on for about an hour. The audience was agape, astounded, he was doing like 128th notes in the slow parts. It was nuts.
The whole thing was like a hip-hop circus no lie...'and now DJ Qbert will scratch, without... touching... the fader.'
The crowd awes and silences. I can almost hear the drum-roll in my head. The concentration in his eyes, the sweat dripping down his face, and he attacks. It sounds much like it did before, very cool, very fast. maybe it would have been cooler if I new what the fuck the fader was for. Nonetheless, I clapped, I jumped, I cheered and got carried away with the crowd. That's the point and the end of the day, it's a rock show. After about 20 minutes of that:
'now DEE JAY QUE BURRRRRRRY with battle DEEEE JAAY EYE DEE in a turn-table war... right... in front... of your eyes.'
So it is written, so it is done. They scrit-i-scra-scri-scra-scritity-tit-tit-titit-scratchity-cra-scra-scratched against each other for a bit, it was very cool. But by this point I got my money's worth and my body reminded me I had to pee, and my empty beer bottle reminded me I needed another, so I made the oft repeated bathroom sojourn. On my way I looked at the entrance.
'Kevin!'
Kevin spins quickly 'Hey Buddy! Is it worth all this cash?'
'It's really good you missed most of it though. Look, I gotta piss, I'll catch up with you in a bit.'
I headed to the can, got another beer and returned to the crew. After the encore, the Jamie turned to me,
'shit man, I gotta go, my drive is leaving'
'cool, gimme a call later.'
'sounds good later man.'
'cya'
I took his chair and sat staring at the emptying stage with a satisfied grin. Ulo turned to me,
'I gotta go too, tired.'
'cool man I'll just finish this then head home.'
'ok'
'later m'man
'it kicked ass'
'it sure did.'
'cya'
I hadn't taken more then one sip of my beer when Kevin appeared.
'Hey man your a hard guy to track down.'
In my victorious bliss I had complete misplaced my conversation at the door.
(to be continued)
Today's Song of the Day is "Doo Wop (That Thing) by Lauryn Hill off her 1998 album "The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill."
Crazy Fact: At the February 1999 Grammy awards Lauryn Hill took home five trophies from her 11 nominations, including Album of the Year, Best New Artist, Best Female R&B Vocal Performance, Best R&B Song, and Best R&B Album; the most ever for a woman.
njoy
The crowd was getting pumped up
'Mix Master Mike is in the House! y'all!' The crowd freaks out, screaming and jumping up and down.
'really?'
'wow, that's cool.'
'totally!'
This made me happy, the good news was pouring in. Praise God I've heard the good news! Redemption is on it's way.
'Jamie?'
'yup?
'I have the feeling I'm going to meet someone tonight?'
'yeah?'
'yeah. I don't know why?
'here's hoping, cheers.'
I don't know why I thought that. But I did. every once in a while you get that feeling. It's always bang on. I'm sure there's a non-flakey assed reason for this, but I'm happy either way.
The place was packed. the crowded dance floor was screaming and pulsing, arms in the air, the lights were flashing and spinning and the music was pumping and rumbling.
'DEE JAY QUE BERRRRT!"
The crowd goes nuts, people are jumping and screaming, freaking out like Jesus just stepped out on stage in on a Pentacostal Sunday.
He goes straight to the turn-table and gets to it.
My prayers were answered. He was incredible. Most of the time you look around and people would just be shaking there heads in incredulity. I had never seen anything like it. There were three video camera's on him at all times and a bunch of guys taking pictures. They projected closed-circuit live video on the screen and at thirty frames a second his hands were a blur, his fingers hardly even registered. This went on for about an hour. The audience was agape, astounded, he was doing like 128th notes in the slow parts. It was nuts.
The whole thing was like a hip-hop circus no lie...'and now DJ Qbert will scratch, without... touching... the fader.'
The crowd awes and silences. I can almost hear the drum-roll in my head. The concentration in his eyes, the sweat dripping down his face, and he attacks. It sounds much like it did before, very cool, very fast. maybe it would have been cooler if I new what the fuck the fader was for. Nonetheless, I clapped, I jumped, I cheered and got carried away with the crowd. That's the point and the end of the day, it's a rock show. After about 20 minutes of that:
'now DEE JAY QUE BURRRRRRRY with battle DEEEE JAAY EYE DEE in a turn-table war... right... in front... of your eyes.'
So it is written, so it is done. They scrit-i-scra-scri-scra-scritity-tit-tit-titit-scratchity-cra-scra-scratched against each other for a bit, it was very cool. But by this point I got my money's worth and my body reminded me I had to pee, and my empty beer bottle reminded me I needed another, so I made the oft repeated bathroom sojourn. On my way I looked at the entrance.
'Kevin!'
Kevin spins quickly 'Hey Buddy! Is it worth all this cash?'
'It's really good you missed most of it though. Look, I gotta piss, I'll catch up with you in a bit.'
I headed to the can, got another beer and returned to the crew. After the encore, the Jamie turned to me,
'shit man, I gotta go, my drive is leaving'
'cool, gimme a call later.'
'sounds good later man.'
'cya'
I took his chair and sat staring at the emptying stage with a satisfied grin. Ulo turned to me,
'I gotta go too, tired.'
'cool man I'll just finish this then head home.'
'ok'
'later m'man
'it kicked ass'
'it sure did.'
'cya'
I hadn't taken more then one sip of my beer when Kevin appeared.
'Hey man your a hard guy to track down.'
In my victorious bliss I had complete misplaced my conversation at the door.
(to be continued)
Today's Song of the Day is "Doo Wop (That Thing) by Lauryn Hill off her 1998 album "The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill."
Crazy Fact: At the February 1999 Grammy awards Lauryn Hill took home five trophies from her 11 nominations, including Album of the Year, Best New Artist, Best Female R&B Vocal Performance, Best R&B Song, and Best R&B Album; the most ever for a woman.
njoy
Saturday, September 18, 2004
DJ Eighties. (part three)
Time for damage control.
"ok, if it sucks we have to say it was good no matter what. I took such a razzing.'
'ha ha ha yeah I know they were eating you alive, ha ha ha.'
When I go down, I'm going down alone it's clear to me now. Prepare thine self for death young Jedi.
'Man I hope it's not dead.'
'me too.'
'twenty-bucks will keep a lot of people away.'
'word.'
'and it's only Thursday.'
'people gotta work.'
'yup.'
'there's a bit of a line up.'
'that's a good sign.'
We get in line. I try to think of ways to 'turn lemons into lemonade'. All I can see is my 20 bucks going into a shedder. Not working. If it sucks I'll just get hammered and well... I'm sure embarrass myself in some way or another.
I'll just try not to think about anything. Talk to me buddha for once I'm listening.
I watch the faces of girls in front of me as the guy rips my ticket. As they turn the corner I'll know for sure if it's dead by their reaction.
Shit.
It's empty.
Make ready the shit eating grin, piffy my boy, soups on.
We turn the corner.
Hey... (bewildered)
No...(stunned)
It's OK...(confused but smiling)
Opening DJ is pumping out tunes, a decent share of folks spread out through the place. Things are ...well, there ok.
'Keep your eye out for Jamie.'
Jamie instantly emerges from the crowd. 'Hey Guys! whadap? Drinks are half-price.'
'So much for not getting sloshed.'
'This is going to be awesome! This guy is going to blow you away. He's crazy good. Fucking crazy good.'
Jamie's Enthusiasm was contagious. Shit is turning around here. Jamie's got a crew. Drinks are cheap, the place is filling up, it's not too hot in here. well Alright!
'Who is THIS guy?' Pointing at the DJ.
'Don't know, but he sucks, we don't like him.'
I turn to the dance floor. 'tell me I don't look like THAT guy when I dance.'
There laughing made me nervous.
But DJ Whoever sounds ok to me, but, hell Jamie's the hip-hop producer, what the Jesus do I know about it.
I saw an odd looking bunch making there move to the dance floor. It was like a cross between a special missions unit and a side show. Big black guy built like a lumber-jack with a Sixers jersey, a tall white guy dressed all in red head to toe, tuke (sp?), baggy T-shirt, baggy pants, red shoes, the works, a little maybe vietnamese guy about 5' 3" and about a hundred pounds of pure energy and two nondescript sideways hat wearing hip-hop soldiers of fortune. This Hip-Hop A-Team took turns attacking the music.
While they were strutting around, I started to wonder about the actual coolness of this. Is this cool? I'm mean look at these guys. These guys are as much geeks as some guy who plays Dungeons and Dragons and watches too much japanese animation, these guys just do it in public. They sit around in there basements and work out moves, other geeks sit in their basements and roll dice. They have there own language of 'busting moves, jiggy-wit-it' which is pretty easily matched with '13 hit-dice Elf. and the 10th-level Fireball' Geeks are just obsessed hobbyist. Most people are obsessed hobbyist in their own right, but they just won't admit it. TV is a hobby, lotsa TV junkies out there. When people start talking about survivor or Gary Beals with tenacity and emotion, I feel like there talking about there Dungeons and Dragons character and I'm from another planet.
They all think they are rock-stars. There bravado was a little stomach-turning. I don't have much patience for macho and this is so over the top.
Captain red clothes goes down on one knee and the little guy steps in his hand (or something the Sixers's lumberjack guy was kind in my way) and the little guy flies into the air in a psycho-hypnotic acrobatic hip-hop hop-hippery. He flew 14 feet through the air. It was amazing. His legs just crumple underneath him when he hits the concrete floor. He's grabbing he legs and rolling all over the floor I thought he broke them or they must of popped out of the socket. The rolls and spins continue. I can't really see what's going on but a back flip later he was on his feet wiping his forehead and walking back to the crew at the edge of the circle. High-fives all around.
'Holy fuck! That was fucking COOL!'
'Fucking right! Are these guys local?'
'I don't know I'll ask Jamie.'
'yup. there local.'
'shit man, they're awesome.'
Ok, if these guys are geeks, I want in. I'm totally eating my thoughts.
The pre-show continued. There were guys jumping, flying, contorting, spinning, bending, flipping, crazy mutant balances, handstands, by themselves, in unison, in teams of two, three four and a six. There were a couple girls jumping in to the mix doing there crazy trix. It was wholly a show of it's own.
The circle was wide and about ten deep. People stood awkwardly trying to see something between the heads. The red guy stood on his hands and got the crowd clapping to the music with his feet. The little guy was like a fucking ninja, he was a blur of limbs and acrobatics, I'm not even sure he was human at this point. But the guy that blew me away, was the Sixers lumber-jack, I had just watched 'One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest' again and the way he stood tall and thick, just watching, reminded me of 'chief.' Then he moved, like the moment when 'chief' steps in to help McMurphy, surprising though inevitable. He stepped into the circle, first a little of this and a little of that. Then bam he's on the floor kicking his legs rolling, spinning, doing all the crazy ninja moves. This guy was a monster of a human being and he was as quick as a cat. shit. With the little guy it was was to be expected but the strong man here... To me he changed the rules, it was fascinating. It's official, this is sir psycho-crazy's hip-hop circus. I hope the main attraction was worth the price of admission, even still this was something to write home to mom about. Mom are you reading this?
(to be continued)
Today's Song of the Day is "Rockit" by Herbie Hancock off his 1983 album "Future Shock."
Crazy Fact: Having taken up the piano at age seven, Hancock quickly became known as a prodigy, soloing in the first movement of a Mozart piano concerto with the Chicago Symphony at the age of 11.
njoy
"ok, if it sucks we have to say it was good no matter what. I took such a razzing.'
'ha ha ha yeah I know they were eating you alive, ha ha ha.'
When I go down, I'm going down alone it's clear to me now. Prepare thine self for death young Jedi.
'Man I hope it's not dead.'
'me too.'
'twenty-bucks will keep a lot of people away.'
'word.'
'and it's only Thursday.'
'people gotta work.'
'yup.'
'there's a bit of a line up.'
'that's a good sign.'
We get in line. I try to think of ways to 'turn lemons into lemonade'. All I can see is my 20 bucks going into a shedder. Not working. If it sucks I'll just get hammered and well... I'm sure embarrass myself in some way or another.
I'll just try not to think about anything. Talk to me buddha for once I'm listening.
I watch the faces of girls in front of me as the guy rips my ticket. As they turn the corner I'll know for sure if it's dead by their reaction.
Shit.
It's empty.
Make ready the shit eating grin, piffy my boy, soups on.
We turn the corner.
Hey... (bewildered)
No...(stunned)
It's OK...(confused but smiling)
Opening DJ is pumping out tunes, a decent share of folks spread out through the place. Things are ...well, there ok.
'Keep your eye out for Jamie.'
Jamie instantly emerges from the crowd. 'Hey Guys! whadap? Drinks are half-price.'
'So much for not getting sloshed.'
'This is going to be awesome! This guy is going to blow you away. He's crazy good. Fucking crazy good.'
Jamie's Enthusiasm was contagious. Shit is turning around here. Jamie's got a crew. Drinks are cheap, the place is filling up, it's not too hot in here. well Alright!
'Who is THIS guy?' Pointing at the DJ.
'Don't know, but he sucks, we don't like him.'
I turn to the dance floor. 'tell me I don't look like THAT guy when I dance.'
There laughing made me nervous.
But DJ Whoever sounds ok to me, but, hell Jamie's the hip-hop producer, what the Jesus do I know about it.
I saw an odd looking bunch making there move to the dance floor. It was like a cross between a special missions unit and a side show. Big black guy built like a lumber-jack with a Sixers jersey, a tall white guy dressed all in red head to toe, tuke (sp?), baggy T-shirt, baggy pants, red shoes, the works, a little maybe vietnamese guy about 5' 3" and about a hundred pounds of pure energy and two nondescript sideways hat wearing hip-hop soldiers of fortune. This Hip-Hop A-Team took turns attacking the music.
While they were strutting around, I started to wonder about the actual coolness of this. Is this cool? I'm mean look at these guys. These guys are as much geeks as some guy who plays Dungeons and Dragons and watches too much japanese animation, these guys just do it in public. They sit around in there basements and work out moves, other geeks sit in their basements and roll dice. They have there own language of 'busting moves, jiggy-wit-it' which is pretty easily matched with '13 hit-dice Elf. and the 10th-level Fireball' Geeks are just obsessed hobbyist. Most people are obsessed hobbyist in their own right, but they just won't admit it. TV is a hobby, lotsa TV junkies out there. When people start talking about survivor or Gary Beals with tenacity and emotion, I feel like there talking about there Dungeons and Dragons character and I'm from another planet.
They all think they are rock-stars. There bravado was a little stomach-turning. I don't have much patience for macho and this is so over the top.
Captain red clothes goes down on one knee and the little guy steps in his hand (or something the Sixers's lumberjack guy was kind in my way) and the little guy flies into the air in a psycho-hypnotic acrobatic hip-hop hop-hippery. He flew 14 feet through the air. It was amazing. His legs just crumple underneath him when he hits the concrete floor. He's grabbing he legs and rolling all over the floor I thought he broke them or they must of popped out of the socket. The rolls and spins continue. I can't really see what's going on but a back flip later he was on his feet wiping his forehead and walking back to the crew at the edge of the circle. High-fives all around.
'Holy fuck! That was fucking COOL!'
'Fucking right! Are these guys local?'
'I don't know I'll ask Jamie.'
'yup. there local.'
'shit man, they're awesome.'
Ok, if these guys are geeks, I want in. I'm totally eating my thoughts.
The pre-show continued. There were guys jumping, flying, contorting, spinning, bending, flipping, crazy mutant balances, handstands, by themselves, in unison, in teams of two, three four and a six. There were a couple girls jumping in to the mix doing there crazy trix. It was wholly a show of it's own.
The circle was wide and about ten deep. People stood awkwardly trying to see something between the heads. The red guy stood on his hands and got the crowd clapping to the music with his feet. The little guy was like a fucking ninja, he was a blur of limbs and acrobatics, I'm not even sure he was human at this point. But the guy that blew me away, was the Sixers lumber-jack, I had just watched 'One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest' again and the way he stood tall and thick, just watching, reminded me of 'chief.' Then he moved, like the moment when 'chief' steps in to help McMurphy, surprising though inevitable. He stepped into the circle, first a little of this and a little of that. Then bam he's on the floor kicking his legs rolling, spinning, doing all the crazy ninja moves. This guy was a monster of a human being and he was as quick as a cat. shit. With the little guy it was was to be expected but the strong man here... To me he changed the rules, it was fascinating. It's official, this is sir psycho-crazy's hip-hop circus. I hope the main attraction was worth the price of admission, even still this was something to write home to mom about. Mom are you reading this?
(to be continued)
Today's Song of the Day is "Rockit" by Herbie Hancock off his 1983 album "Future Shock."
Crazy Fact: Having taken up the piano at age seven, Hancock quickly became known as a prodigy, soloing in the first movement of a Mozart piano concerto with the Chicago Symphony at the age of 11.
njoy
Friday, September 17, 2004
DJ Eighties. (part two)
I think Ulo could sense my insecurity.
'Dude. let's check him out on the net.'
'His site will rock. He's a big name.'
'yeah YEAH. It'll rock, let's check it out.'
googled him. djqbert.com. that's a good sign he's got his own domain name. Excellent! This was an awesome idea!
As the sight loaded I waited for the crazy ultra hip uber-flashed animation to shoot out at me. nope. it just loaded and looked at me. I felt like I was waiting for a glimpse of the face of god and when the clouds parted all I saw was a neon sign repetitively flashing 'face of god' in my face. It took way too long for the excited wide eyed smile to fade from my face as I clicked on links in a futile search for coolness or hipness or some sort redemption.
'Is he Japanese?'
'Maybe, he's Asian for sure.' There was a pause while we stared at the screen.
'Pif, this site is lame.'
I hadn't given up yet. There was a long pause as Ulo watched my sad search through the adequate and very typical pages:
HOME NEWS CALENDAR STORE CONTACT.
'yeah, it is lame. jeeze.' Temporarily overwhelmed by the disappointment of the moment I let out a very revealing 'jeeze' I eyed Ulo quickly but cautiously for any recognition of this momentary weakness. If there was any recognition, he didn't let it show. I turned back to the screen, forlorn. That wasn't a 20 buck website, that's for sure. shit dawg, I'm going down. I gulged at my beer.
'Maybe we can get download some tunes off Limewire'
'Yeah!' I had a new purpose. opened the app. searched it. Lotsa hits. This is a very good sign. Went to get a couple new beer while it loaded.
As I walked by Jim's room I thought. I wonder if Jim is home. I wonder if he is pissed. Am I too loud? I wish he'd speak to me the fucker or at least look at me when I speak to him. I can't wait to get out of this shit hole. fuck it's frustrating. I got back to my room and closed and locked my door which is my habit these days, he makes me nervous. When I got back I eagerly looked over the list.
'COOL! He's scratching Video game samples, street fighter, mortal combat..'
'Mario Brothers! That's awesome.'
I cracked a beer and downloaded with a new found hope. I gleefully slurped at my beer and watched the little bars grow.
'...take me to the promised land!'
Did I say that out loud? I looked a Ulo in the blue light from the monitor, he looked at me and laughed. What the hell was he laughing at? Me? what I said? The situation? I decided it was best not to know and turned back to the screen, intensely waiting for redemption. Really patiently. NO not 'really' never REALLY again. I'm so so SO done with really, no more lame lame lame REALLY's. I'm not even sure of what I'm thinking about anymore, if that fucking file doesn't start playing soon I'm gonna really fucking LOSE IT, really really really I'll really fucking really super ready to really tear-
'you got good bandwidth.'
'yup.'
'you got four comin' in'
'yup'
what are you on?
'eastlink.'
'cool.'
We simultaneous slurped at our beers in silence peering at the tube. While the little gnomes worked away in my head, taking me apart thought by thought.
'Ok let's check this baby out...click.'
We listened. Maybe it was good, maybe it was bad. I had no idea, I was too wrapped up in myself to hear anything but echo's of my inevitable howls of defeat. It was the dippy little mario theme alright with a hip-hop beat and some scratching. Could Jim hear this was he pissed? It's only 9:52 PM! That's nothin'! Come on it can't be too loud. Anyway I'll tell ya it didn't sound worth 20 bucks. Lame. shit it was lame.
'it's ok'
'yeah it's alright.'
We listened to a few more, gulged a few more beers and headed to the show.
(to be continued)
Today's Song of the Day "Hold On Hope" by Guided By Voices off their 1999 album "Do The Collapse"
Crazy Fact: I missed these fuckers EVERYTIME they came to town and now they're breaking up. crap.
njoy
'Dude. let's check him out on the net.'
'His site will rock. He's a big name.'
'yeah YEAH. It'll rock, let's check it out.'
googled him. djqbert.com. that's a good sign he's got his own domain name. Excellent! This was an awesome idea!
As the sight loaded I waited for the crazy ultra hip uber-flashed animation to shoot out at me. nope. it just loaded and looked at me. I felt like I was waiting for a glimpse of the face of god and when the clouds parted all I saw was a neon sign repetitively flashing 'face of god' in my face. It took way too long for the excited wide eyed smile to fade from my face as I clicked on links in a futile search for coolness or hipness or some sort redemption.
'Is he Japanese?'
'Maybe, he's Asian for sure.' There was a pause while we stared at the screen.
'Pif, this site is lame.'
I hadn't given up yet. There was a long pause as Ulo watched my sad search through the adequate and very typical pages:
HOME NEWS CALENDAR STORE CONTACT.
'yeah, it is lame. jeeze.' Temporarily overwhelmed by the disappointment of the moment I let out a very revealing 'jeeze' I eyed Ulo quickly but cautiously for any recognition of this momentary weakness. If there was any recognition, he didn't let it show. I turned back to the screen, forlorn. That wasn't a 20 buck website, that's for sure. shit dawg, I'm going down. I gulged at my beer.
'Maybe we can get download some tunes off Limewire'
'Yeah!' I had a new purpose. opened the app. searched it. Lotsa hits. This is a very good sign. Went to get a couple new beer while it loaded.
As I walked by Jim's room I thought. I wonder if Jim is home. I wonder if he is pissed. Am I too loud? I wish he'd speak to me the fucker or at least look at me when I speak to him. I can't wait to get out of this shit hole. fuck it's frustrating. I got back to my room and closed and locked my door which is my habit these days, he makes me nervous. When I got back I eagerly looked over the list.
'COOL! He's scratching Video game samples, street fighter, mortal combat..'
'Mario Brothers! That's awesome.'
I cracked a beer and downloaded with a new found hope. I gleefully slurped at my beer and watched the little bars grow.
'...take me to the promised land!'
Did I say that out loud? I looked a Ulo in the blue light from the monitor, he looked at me and laughed. What the hell was he laughing at? Me? what I said? The situation? I decided it was best not to know and turned back to the screen, intensely waiting for redemption. Really patiently. NO not 'really' never REALLY again. I'm so so SO done with really, no more lame lame lame REALLY's. I'm not even sure of what I'm thinking about anymore, if that fucking file doesn't start playing soon I'm gonna really fucking LOSE IT, really really really I'll really fucking really super ready to really tear-
'you got good bandwidth.'
'yup.'
'you got four comin' in'
'yup'
what are you on?
'eastlink.'
'cool.'
We simultaneous slurped at our beers in silence peering at the tube. While the little gnomes worked away in my head, taking me apart thought by thought.
'Ok let's check this baby out...click.'
We listened. Maybe it was good, maybe it was bad. I had no idea, I was too wrapped up in myself to hear anything but echo's of my inevitable howls of defeat. It was the dippy little mario theme alright with a hip-hop beat and some scratching. Could Jim hear this was he pissed? It's only 9:52 PM! That's nothin'! Come on it can't be too loud. Anyway I'll tell ya it didn't sound worth 20 bucks. Lame. shit it was lame.
'it's ok'
'yeah it's alright.'
We listened to a few more, gulged a few more beers and headed to the show.
(to be continued)
Today's Song of the Day "Hold On Hope" by Guided By Voices off their 1999 album "Do The Collapse"
Crazy Fact: I missed these fuckers EVERYTIME they came to town and now they're breaking up. crap.
njoy
Thursday, September 16, 2004
DJ Eighties. (part one)
'DJ Qbert has won, like, all these awards everywhere, he's awesome.'
'Yeah, what awards?'
'Says Who?'
'Lemme guess, The Yarmouth DJ World Championships'
'Did he make them in his basement?'
'I'm serious in like 92 to 94 he won DJ of the year and shit.'
'So your paying 20 bucks to see some DJ from the eighties. Maybe he's a little past his prime. pass.'
'pass.'
'pass.'
'20 bucks. no way.'
It was a feeding frenzy. I didn't really know what I was talking about. All I did was read the poster. I didn't even read it well. I guess I should say I skimmed it. They could smell blood. They ate me alive. Mostly, my Hip-Hop-hipest friend Jamie told me it would be good and reminded me that he released a CD bundled with DJ Shadow's Preemptive Strike. Let me just say I would wet myself if I could see Shadow. During my utter defeat on the battlefield of musical credibility and subsequent razzing, I knew, now I HAD to go. No choice, it was a certainty. I only hope was that I'd be laughing last. Shit. Who is this joker anyway? I started to get nervous.
Not nervous enough not to lay out 40 bucks for a couple tickets the next day.
'Who'd you sucker into see DJ eighties? Ha Ha Ha.'
'Ulo... and hey, I didn't SUCKER him, he's into it.'
But I gotta say I was happy to have him on side. I didn't know a soul who was going. Except for Jamies' 'maybe... if I get off work in time,' which was a little unsettling. I haven't ever heard a damn thing he has done. And forking over 20 bucks to stand alone in a mostly empty bar, hollow with the sounds of 'DJ Eighties' echoing my defeat in my ears, inescapably. Well let's just say the idea of it was, well, disquieting. Hasty, ill-conceived, sucker-born every minute, load-mouth, idiot, acting the fool, looking the fool, feeling the fool, being the fool.
This may turn into a three-ring circus of failure, I really hope not. I really didn't really want to be a part of that, really. really. really. I feel so lame the only word I can say is 'really' about the whole thing. It was the answer to every question in my head for two days, it was the symbolic definition of my doubt, my fears.
he sucks. really?
he's good. really?
what if it sucks. I really hope it doesn't
what it's good. I really hope he is.
Is he good? I really think so.
Is he really crappie and eighties? I really don't think so, do you really think they'd say those things about him if he really didn't do them, really?
I hated the word, I was saying it obsessively it seemed to represent the very real possibility of failure. All I had was faith. I'm doomed.
I said it too much. The word lost all meaning. And what a Lame word, I mean really, does really, really mean anything really. Bland. Useless. To me, it utterly defined my weakness, my approaching failure, my foolish big mouthed boob-boobery.
(to be continued)
Today's Song of the Day is "Building Steam With A Grain Of Salt" by DJ Shadow off his 1996 debut album "Endtroducing ...."
Crazy Fact: In 1995 "What Does Your Soul Look Like," topped the British indie charts. The crazy thing is it's 40-minutes long.
njoy
'Yeah, what awards?'
'Says Who?'
'Lemme guess, The Yarmouth DJ World Championships'
'Did he make them in his basement?'
'I'm serious in like 92 to 94 he won DJ of the year and shit.'
'So your paying 20 bucks to see some DJ from the eighties. Maybe he's a little past his prime. pass.'
'pass.'
'pass.'
'20 bucks. no way.'
It was a feeding frenzy. I didn't really know what I was talking about. All I did was read the poster. I didn't even read it well. I guess I should say I skimmed it. They could smell blood. They ate me alive. Mostly, my Hip-Hop-hipest friend Jamie told me it would be good and reminded me that he released a CD bundled with DJ Shadow's Preemptive Strike. Let me just say I would wet myself if I could see Shadow. During my utter defeat on the battlefield of musical credibility and subsequent razzing, I knew, now I HAD to go. No choice, it was a certainty. I only hope was that I'd be laughing last. Shit. Who is this joker anyway? I started to get nervous.
Not nervous enough not to lay out 40 bucks for a couple tickets the next day.
'Who'd you sucker into see DJ eighties? Ha Ha Ha.'
'Ulo... and hey, I didn't SUCKER him, he's into it.'
But I gotta say I was happy to have him on side. I didn't know a soul who was going. Except for Jamies' 'maybe... if I get off work in time,' which was a little unsettling. I haven't ever heard a damn thing he has done. And forking over 20 bucks to stand alone in a mostly empty bar, hollow with the sounds of 'DJ Eighties' echoing my defeat in my ears, inescapably. Well let's just say the idea of it was, well, disquieting. Hasty, ill-conceived, sucker-born every minute, load-mouth, idiot, acting the fool, looking the fool, feeling the fool, being the fool.
This may turn into a three-ring circus of failure, I really hope not. I really didn't really want to be a part of that, really. really. really. I feel so lame the only word I can say is 'really' about the whole thing. It was the answer to every question in my head for two days, it was the symbolic definition of my doubt, my fears.
he sucks. really?
he's good. really?
what if it sucks. I really hope it doesn't
what it's good. I really hope he is.
Is he good? I really think so.
Is he really crappie and eighties? I really don't think so, do you really think they'd say those things about him if he really didn't do them, really?
I hated the word, I was saying it obsessively it seemed to represent the very real possibility of failure. All I had was faith. I'm doomed.
I said it too much. The word lost all meaning. And what a Lame word, I mean really, does really, really mean anything really. Bland. Useless. To me, it utterly defined my weakness, my approaching failure, my foolish big mouthed boob-boobery.
(to be continued)
Today's Song of the Day is "Building Steam With A Grain Of Salt" by DJ Shadow off his 1996 debut album "Endtroducing ...."
Crazy Fact: In 1995 "What Does Your Soul Look Like," topped the British indie charts. The crazy thing is it's 40-minutes long.
njoy
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)