Fuck You Dobson. And double fuck you, Times.

Times Magazine, you should be a-fucking-shamed of your stupid selves, you asswipe fucktards.

Dobson, I hope you and the rest of your inbred ilk breed yourselves into oblivion. Be fruitful, multiply, and keep your gene pool as inbred as your brains.

MythBustere

On my way in to work today, and lo and behold, who do I see coming towards me in a green Toyota pickup?

Jaime Hyneman:


He turns down the same street I turn on, which eventually splits into two lanes. D and I waved at him, and he smiled and waved back. He was wearing *exactly* what he wears on Mythbusters. Black beret, white button down, black longsleeve shirt underneath. He must have been going to work, too!

Hallelujah I Love Her So

I spent some time at a record store this weekend, and I bought a couple of soul albums. I got:

Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell - The Complete Duets
Archie Bell & the Drells - Tighten Up & I Can't Stop Dancing
Ray Charles - The Definitive Soul Collection

I'm going to listen to them in reverse order, simply because I'm most familiar with Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell, and less so about Archie Bell. Ray Charles goes first, because I haven't heard Hallelujah I Love Her So in *years*. It's a Rhino compilation, and in general, I LOVE their compilations. Hallelujah I Love Her So is a spectacular pop song. Two minutes and thirty-five seconds of awesome. The is genius.

Tighten Up, I attribute to EttEtt. He had a vinyl of this, if I recall correctly. Marvin & Tammi were both part of my Motown obsession - I'm not exactly sure where that came from, but it really fomented in college, for me. It led me elsewhere, but I get so damn fixated on other bands (for years) that *finding* new music, even if it's old music is a real challenge for me.

I've also found it difficult to work with music that I really like on. I think I'm going to have to switch to classical or jazz that I'm less familiar with. But it's so damn boring!!! Maybe it'll help me concentrate better.

Smoking Popes

I love them. But lately, not as much as The Lucksmiths. They've put out two new songs on their myspace page. (Let's not get into myspace right now - it's a totally different blog post.) I like both of the new songs, respectively titled: If You Don't Care, and Stay Down. For now, Stay Down is in heavy rotation, because of this:


Don't wake me now
I need this dream to last forever
We can make it if we just stay down


Great stuff.

In other news, I've been writing a story about a building that I drive by on my way to work. It's shaping up well, and *maybe* I'll grow some guts and post it here later, when I'm finished converting it to all the different person views (grammatically), which D. recommended I do.

Long - Lost, Now - Found

I've found it. This weekend, I spent some time at the music store. I went down there to find a couple of things - 1) a practice amp for my cute electric Ovation - it's great - black and gold, a little flashy for me, but still, it's great - three pickups, great action, 2) some digital recording equipment, and 3) some drums.

The drums are always hard for me. I've been looking for a *very* specific kit now for about four years. I remember when I used to play out in college that I had a crappy kit that was too big. I hated carrying it. I hated carrying it more at 2:30a, after I'd been drinking for 7 hours. I hated it carrying it even more when I had to lug it up the goddamn steps to the attic *after* I brought it back from the bar.

This new kit is *exactly* what I was looking for. It's funny - I tend to hate going into the following establishments: videogame shops, computer stores, and music stores - all for the same reason. They always try to sell me shit I don't want, and don't need. This trip to the store was no different, except that I cut the guy off at the pass.

I told him that in the 50's and 60's, Gretsch made a vintage jazz kit, very small, that had remarkable sound. They made them in a range of "sparkle" colors, and they had a single rack tom, and a floor, with a matching snare. He gasped, and told me that he could show me *exactly* what I wanted.

And lo and behold, he did.



This kit is everything I've ever wanted. Maple shells - although I'd love for mine to be candy apple red, or some other color that is not white sparkle, or white speckle. I haven't actually *heard* what these sound like, though - so maybe I'm getting a little ahead of myself.

I can't decide what to do about it, though. If I buy it, I really have a) nowhere to put it, b) no time to play it, c) nobody to play with. If I don't buy it, I'll just keep thinking about it. But having it, and not being able to play will be absolute torture. TORTURE.

Soda = Pop

So remember a couple of days ago, I posted about being 21? I had nothing much to do tonight, except nurse my horrible hangover from yesterday. Apparently, I thought I *was* 21 again, as I was doing shots of Jaegermeister with friends. That stuff still tastes like shit.


Anyway, I digress - I was searching for random bands tonight, and I found Soda, strangely. Try here, if you actually want to *hear* Soda's song (named, "Purple Heart", and I would have never guessed, having had a CD with no actual song names on it) that I've referenced in a previous post. I don't know where this site came from, but I pass it along to you, with love in my heart and music in my ears.

This brings me along to the Blow Pops. I can't remember what the hell bar I was at in Milwaukee - I know it wasn't the Globe. I saw them at a reunion show just prior to Tim Buckley moving to Virginia with the Maki guys. I don't generally get goose bumps at rock shows. Symphonies, sometimes, although I haven't been to one in years. Ettett was there? I know T.N. was there. He told me he cried. Thrice. And I discovered that Nick Randazzo was just slightly taller than me.

That night, I learned that I needed to add an additional crash cymbal to my kit. Nick Randazzo introduced me, that night, to the two-crash fill-end. I almost learned how sweet it might have been to fall in love with a girl at a Blow Pops show with "Here Goes My Heart" zinging in perfect harmony through my ears. (This is only a thinly veiled reference to "Zing Went the Strings of My Heart".)

Easy Cheese And Airplanes

So, one of my best friends is coming from Seattle today on an airplane. She insists that she will be able to hand-carry her bag. I insist she won't. We've both hit the TSA website to figure out what she can and can't bring. I'm here to highlight some of the funnier and/or absurd ones for you.

You *can* bring small amounts of baby formula and/or breast milk. It doesn't say anything about the boobies that carry the breast milk. I assume you can bring those aboard. However, Easy-Cheeze, you're out. Peanut Butter, you're out, too. Both of you have been banished to the dungeon of the cargo hold. I'm not sure how you'll deal the low temperatures, and then subsequent thaw on the tarmac. Sorry, guys. You've lost, in favor of gel-filled bras. Jell-o, pudding, whipped cream, and jelly - banished! I think they're targeting people from the Midwest and Hawaii. No more passion-fruit jelly and guava jam for you (and me). Boo.

Also, people who want to join the mile-high club couldn't possibly be terrorists. Want to know how I know? Because you can take up to 4 oz. of KY Jelly. That's right, folks. Up to four ounces of that wonderful, lubricating stuff. I wonder how much KY had to pay TSA for this. Does this mean that other types of lubricant are not allowed? I wonder if the security people take a literal reading of the TSA guidebook. One would assume they do.

Just to spell it out for you, none of the following are allowed in carry-on, OR checked luggage:
Blasting Caps
Dynamite
Fireworks
Flares
Hand Grenades
Plastic Explosives

Oh, and don't forget to take those comfy gel-inserts out of your shoes and into your luggage. Those are banished, too.

I've Been Niced

So, in a recent spurt of total geekery:

My new crush has three asynchronous crushes running. I am running with modified priority (nice). Boo. I cry. Both for my psuedonerdery, and my not-so-pseudonerdery.

Edit:
To even further my psuedonerdery, it really breaks down like this:
nice +19 xpython crush.py --crushee 'M' -crusher 'miniboss'

You linux geeks can probably tell me if I'm wrong, or if I could actually decipher the man pages like I thought I could. :D (And the rest of you, don't even ask about crush.py.)

Twenty-one Was A Million Years Ago

I remember being 20, in college, and singing this song. It started:
Twenty-one was a million years ago
I saw one hundred angels tonight in the snow

I remember turning to Ettett and saying, "Twenty-one *WAS* a million years ago, Ettett, and I'm not even twenty-one!!!" I admit, I was in a terribly bad place. I had endured an non-breakup with a non-girlfriend who had moved away to a non-driving-distance city to live in a nondescript house, for seemingly nonchalant reasons. I didn't understand. And so, as I was wont to do in those days, I wallowed.

And wallowed.
And wallowed.

I got a phone call, one day, from a friend, a personal superhero of mine, who'd moved to Austin the summer (I think) prior. He didn't ask me how I was. He asked me, "What are you listening to?"

I replied, "Chris Bell."

He countered, "You've got to stop that."

I did, after a time. Now, to be fair, I didn't skip from Chris Bell to the Blow Pops, or any of the other sugar-pop twee bands that I've mentioned here. But I did, somehow, work my way out of that self-pitying pool of despair. This isn't to say that a person shouldn't allow themselves to go there. It can be therapeutic sometimes, even creative. That period of my life, my blue period, has a soundtrack of Chris Bell.

To this day, "Look Up" rends my heart. That man walking down the street, with his head down low, is sometimes me. I never quite understood what Chris was trying to say there, but I picture him, off the cover of that album, transported to some unfriendly town, unhappy and utterly forsaken. All he ever had to do was look up, and see the sky. I do.



P.S. I didn't mean for this to end up being an ode to Chris Bell, as there's so much more to write. There is so much more, more *personal* for me to write about you. For me to write to you. I think of you often. And I hope that when you look down, you see me sometimes.

Ettett Says, "You're It."

My bass player extraordinaire, writer of many luminescent songs of librarians and marking rooms, Ettett, compelled me to answer several questions about myself.


4 jobs I've had in my life:
1. Marking room marker, library person
2. Gas Station Attendent
3. Videogame tester
4. Business systems schmahnalist.

4 movies I would watch over and over:
1. Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971)
2. Dreams
3. The Golden Breed
4. Empire Strikes Back

4 TV shows I have loved:
1. Star Blazers
2. Robotech
3. Kikaida
4. Transformers

4 TV show theme songs I have loved
1. Star Blazers
2. Robotech
3. Kikaida
4. GI Joe

4 websites I visit daily:
1. Salon
2. Questionable Content
3. Google News (Do aggregators count?)
4. Google Mail

4 of my favorite foods:
1. Sukiyaki
2. Mochiko Chicken
3. Ben & Jerry's "The Gobfather"
4. Pokey Sticks (yes, but only from Gumby's, and only after midnight, because you know, we're not supposed to be fed after midnight, plus, life was always more fun as a gremlin. Who the fuck wants to be a wonky little Mogwai?)

4 places I've lived:
1. Madison
2. San Francisco
3. Hawaii
4. (Gee, I feel sheltered)

4 musicians I worship:
1. The Lucksmiths (lately)
2. Phoebe Summersquash (Phoebe, if you ever read this, I have been in a slumberland state of love for you since 1996, but not in a creepy way, I swear.)
3. Alicia Keys (Fuck off. Yeah, you rolling yer lame-ass eyeballs. FUCK. OFF.)
4. Smoking Popes

4 books that changed the way I view the world:
1. Pictures from Breughel by Willam Carlos Williams (Thanks, A.M.)
2. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl (AN EDIBLE GARDEN!?!?!?)
3. Geebus, I need to read more by Mini-boss

4 places I would like to be right now:

1. O'Cayz Corral opening for Coolhand Band and Fez Petting Zoo and Small Factory
2. Canoes
3. With my buddy B.
4. On a sparsely visited beach somewhere with clean, blue water, a clean, semi-challenging right and 75 degree water.

More Terrifying Sounds of the Nothing

Give yourself ten points if you caught the movie reference right off the bat.

So I'm trying to work through getting used to the sound of nothing, the absence of sound at all. I sat for 15 minutes last night. I can't say that I've progressed to actually *thinking* of nothing. This is actually very, very difficult to do. And every time that I've *ever* gotten to the point of thinking of nothing, I've congratulated myself for thinking of nothing, thereby banishing the moment of thinking of nothing.

To that end, I've ordered a few books to help myself think more on thinking of nothing. That, and I'm going to the Zen Bhuddism center on some undetermined Saturday in the near future to get some help in the art of thinking of nothing.

I'm also contemplating re-starting kendo. I've gone to the dojo here, and I remember being a little unimpressed by their kata practice, and a little put-off by how "traditional" their dojo was. However, I'm reconsidering the very strict adherence to traditional etiquette not because I think this type of dogmatism is unilaterally "good", but because I think I need some reinforcement in humility. Somewhere along the way of becoming exceedingly good at what I do, I've lost a large part of my ability to be humble, and recognize leadership and wisdom when they present themselves to me. I think kendo, in this type of environment, can help me to rediscover humility.

That, plus I plan on just swinging a shinai by myself for a good year. Rote movement will help me with my thinking of nothingness quest, as well as workout my body at the same time. Eventually, the screaming will help with my aggression, and maybe I can become a more peaceful, yet still ecstatically exuberant me.

The Terrifying Sound of Silence

I've decided that I'm totally terrified of silence. I spent a lot of last night, thinking about the amount of time I spend occupying my brain, to stop it from thinking too much. I spend nearly every waking minute doing something. I'm either listening t music, playing music, reading, watching tv. I don't ever sit. And be still.


So last night, I tried being still. I stayed still for 15 minutes. And it was hard. I was like a kid who couldn't sit still in class. Either that, or I was really afraid of the dark.

EDIT
Yah, so additionally, I'm going to give up music and instant messaging at work next week. We'll see how long it lasts.

Holy Shit - The Lucksmiths - Part III

Seriously. I have *barely* stopped giggling since I left work. And I'm back to giggling. You know, I've been lying to all of you. I'm really 14 years old.

My favorite word for the month is impugn.

I wish that Labor Day was two months away.
I like Vietnamese food.
The collarbone area on a woman is easily one of the sexiest parts of a body.
The area right near the hipbone on a man or woman nearly rivals the collarbone area that I've mentioned above.

Just about anything made out of lychee tastes good.

I think I want to marry the Lucksmiths. I'm fairly certain that I can't move my feet. They've turned into a single block of sugar. It's remarkably warm.

Holy Shit - The Lucksmiths Part II

If they get any twee-er, I will probably die of gigglement. They will find my body slumped over in my overly-expensive office chair, totally encased in sugar. BWAHAHAHAHAA!


I’m struck speechless by the nape of your neck
But your requests and suggestions have a similar effect
A litany of prettiness and pettiness too
I reckon every second second we come up with something new

I tried to write an opera for us
But I didn’t get that far
’Cause trying to sum you up in song
Is like catching sunlight in a jar

Sunlight In A Jar - The Lucksmiths - Warmer Corners

Wishes Come True

Well I had too much to drink
So I headed for the sink
When I saw that you were already there
Seeing double makes me blink
But it gave me time to think
That we sure do make a wonderful pair

'Cause earlier that evening
When I was only seeing
One of everything that came to view
I thought wouldn't it be nice
If I could only see you twice
Now ain't it grand when wishes come true?


One of these days I'll get 'round to re-recording this song with my buddy. I realize now that the original recording that we did had the wrong beat, which is one of the reasons that it never meshed. It really needs a "train" beat, to match its country-ish sound. Still, I think it's one of the better songs that we've ever recorded.

I need:
1) A small jazz-style kit. Well, it doesn't necessarily have to be a jazz-style kit. But I'd prefer the bass drum not to be larger than 18".
2) Mics. For the type of kit that I'm talking about, I need a bass mic, two (or three) mounted mics for the floor tom, the rack tom, and the snare, and an additional "overhead" mic.
3) Some type of mixing board and recording software.

I'm a little mystified on how this should happen. My buddy is trying to convince me to purchase a $20 tascam 4-track. I'm not even sure that I can get the cassette tapes that it needs. I don't know enough about how recording software and hardware have advanced in the 10 years that have passed since we did the original recording in college.

That being said, I'm also working on three or four new foolishly stupid crushed out horrible pop songs. I'm trying not to let my inner editor kill my will to live. I'm noticing a marked difference in my overall guitar ability, as well, in the positive direction, but I really should have paid more attention in my music theory classes. More later....

Ben Kweller

I really like Ben Kweller. I have his second album, On My Way, and I really like it. I can't say that he's a great singer, but there's something compelling about his voice, as off-key as it may sound. His I Need You Back track is so quintessentially power-pop, it'll make you want to jump around and waggle your head like a maniac.

In other music news, I'll be seeing The Clientele, in their US tour. I haven't given everything of theirs that I own three listens yet, but I'm getting there. They are a lot more stoner-or-shoegazery pop than I'm used to, but they're quickly becoming a favorite for me.

The Lucksmiths

I might have mentioned once or thrice that my new favorite band is The Lucksmiths. A delightful boy trio from Australia - I've recently gotten their Naturaliste album. It's not new. But then again, I generally don't get albums until years later. It's just because I'm not hip, and I need to be spoon fed music by other people.

My best friend gave me The Lucksmiths when I was visiting him in the Spring. I just never got around to listening to it. Every album I ever buy (or receive) gets three FULL listens. Start to finish, three times, before it either goes into heavy rotation, or dies a melancholy and lonely death on my CD rack.

The Lucksmiths took ONE listen. I listened to the first track of that record 50 times in seven days. At least, that's what my iPod told me. I'm a little embarrassed to admit it, but it's a *great* song.

And interestingly, the drummer is the singer. He's got a slightly sad voice, and a teeny lilt of an accent. And he's cute. They are so clever with their songwriting. And while I generally cringe from the "twee" moniker that they've been given in some circles, I can say that the overall feeling is indeed quite twee. They're masterful at all of their instruments, and the production quality is stellar.

I haven't listened to anything as good since The Mayflies, USA. And I have to admit that I like The Lucksmits better. I leave you with a bit of What You'll Miss.

In the morning it felt like the world had stopped
And clenched like a giant fist up tight
But then you noticed the dust still dropped
And danced through the bedroom windowlight

It's the woodsmoke smell of winter
It's the sad things that you'll miss
It's the woodsmoke smell of winter
And the sad things like this
Let it all come down like fog on a cold field
Let it all come down like frost on a lawn
Let it all come down like leaves in a teacup
Let it all come down like trees in a storm

Stressed!

Because I'm copying eingy. Your Stress Level is: 64%

You are prone to stress, and you're probably even pretty stressed right now. Life's problems seem to pile up on you, and this often makes you feel depressed and burned out. Learn to take time to relax and enjoy life, even if things are stressful. It's the only wa you'll get through the bad times.

How Stressed Are You?

Langley Schools Music Project

I know I've waxed poetic about The Langley Schools Music Project, but I have to do it again. I've had to pick it up again, and it arrived in the mail today.

From the liner notes:
"This is beauty. This is truth. This is music that touches the heart in a way no other music ever has, or ever could."

I swear, I've listened to this album in its entirety at least a hundred times. I nearly burst into tears listening to a very, very stripped down version of God Only Knows. Again, it's one of those albums that you either love or hate. It doesn't grow on you. Of course, I love it. Everytime I listen to it, I feel like it's taken a giant sledgehammer to my soul, and then painstakingly glued me back together. I might not be better than new, but I've got more character.

The off-tune saloon style piano and the gym make it sound like they recorded this album in the bat cave. Imagine, if you will, the bat cave, full of children on a Saturday, singing songs that they might not have intellectually understood, but felt in their cores. Gah. I can't say anything else about it that doesn't make me sound like a crazy person.

The Weather

In other news, the weather is really making me irritable. The fog dampens my spirit and engulfs me in a gloom that is sometimes too thick for me to see through. Throw in a little bit of Chris Bell and Elliot Smith, and you've got a recipe for disaster. The silver lining in all of this is The Langley Schools Music Project, which will arrive tomorrow, along with The Clientele. A day later, two more CDs.

The Rules

For the most part, I'm keeping this blog as anonymous as possible. No specific talk about work or friends. Why? Because people google people too much, myself included. I mean, not vanity searches, although I admit I probably run a vanity search every six months or so.


Anyway, keep your names to yourselves. You already know who the people attached to me are, if you're here. If you don't, too bad. I hope you don't cry yourself to sleep tonight.

First. Evar.

Okay, so I've decided to move away from my old super-secret blog format. Here it is.

I've spent a lot of time with a new crush of mine, but I think I've just been relegated to "friend" status. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've just been relegated to "friend" status. Surprisingly, I'm only slightly crushed.

That is all. For now.