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Friday, February 25, 2005

Korn is dead! Check poop for remnants!

Oh my God! Literally! So, it seems that Brian “Head” Welch, the guitar wanker from everyone’s favorite motivational band, Korn, has found Jesus and left the band. Sure Korn is motivational; they motivate me to destroy my stereo, or at least turn down the volume, or wonder why God created music, if he knew that eventually, it would end up being molested by terrible jackasses such as Korn. God. Seriously. What a terrible, terrible sound they make. Maybe now the band will break up, simultaneously proving that there is a God, and while HE might not make mistakes, he does fix them. Rumors are rampant on the net, mostly stemming from the commonly held belief that Jesus was never “missing”, so then how could “Head” have found him? And, if I had a nickname, I can assure you, that it would never be something as obvious/laughable/ridiculous as “Head”. And any band that needs 7 strings on their guitars, because the basic 6 just can’t get low enough, well, that’s a band I certainly won’t come to for life-guidance and/or spiritual advice.

I've been sick!

Ok, truth be told, I’ve been sick for a week. See the photographic evidence over on the sidebar. Believe me, I’m not normally so terribly, um, terrible looking. And honestly, it’s been a pretty busy week at school, and at work, where I’ve had to stop by more than my normal 2 days/4 hours each. Some lousy crumbum at the office decided it was more important for him to sand his floors than to come in to actually work on Friday, so all week long guess what we’ve been playing? Catch up. That’s right. I have to go in tomorrow, (on a Friday!) (the first day of my weekend!) and do some paperwork. Can you believe it! I have to do my charla de espaƱol, then go in and shuffle some pages around. I find it helps to seem busy if I make complaining noises throughout my time there, like “Oh, man, this Johnson account is just SO strenuous. I better spend a few more days trying to get this one straight.” Or, “Man, can you believe those guys from sales! They're unbelievable! And it’s not just them! Steve from accounting wanted me to make him a demo comp stat, so I gotta push all my pink folders and m/o’s into the second tier! How I’m ever going to get all those v/o’s into Access is quite beyond my programming!” and then we all chuckle because I made a li’l Star Wars reference.

One thing I’ve been enjoying lately is saying that something sounds “appealing”. For example, today before lunch with Mr. P., it went a little something like this:

Him: What do you want for lunch?
Me: Well, a sandwich sounds… appealing! Ha!
Him: (stone-faced) That’s not a pun, nor is it a joke. If you said an orange sounding appealing, then it would be funny. But you didn’t, and now you’re not funny.
Me: Bullcrap! I’m totally hilarious.

Why does this suddenly seem hysterical to me? I don’t know, it just is. If you analyze anything, then it becomes unfunny. And yes, a sandwich still does sound appealing. The conversation continued:

Him: I’m going to Wendy’s.
Me: What? I ain’t going to no Wendy’s!
Him: I have to make a trip to Home Depot, afterward.
Me: Whatever! I ain’t going to no freakin’ Wendy’s!

So, I ended up going to Wendy’s. I really just wanted a Frosty, because of the unbearable heat wave we’ve been having, and Frostys are only $1. Then I drank it with a spoon, while drawing my hand in my sketchbook.

In blogging news, check out the “My delicious links” over on the side, and it’ll take you to a page that shows all the different sites I visit regularly. Also, to find out what music I’ve listened to lately, check out “My Audioscrobbler Page” or whatever it’s called.

Sunday, February 20, 2005

@ - "commonly" called a strudel

So what’s weird is that this weekend I’m playing drums for a bunch of high-schoolers who are staying at the Double Tree Hotel at Jantzen Beach. Jantzen Beach used to be a huge amusement park back in the 40s and 50s, but is now just a big mall with some hotels. The last remnant of that era was recently closed and is rumored to be converting into a Krispy Kreme. I’m playing for a protestant denomination called “Christian Missionary Alliance”, which I’ve never heard of, but, unfortunately they don’t do any tricks involving biting heads off of rabbits, or wrangling reptiles, so it’s ok by me. The band’s job is to play music and have the kids sing along; we make it easy for them by projecting the words to the songs on a couple big screens on either side of the stage. We’re there to lead the kids in worshiping our Lord and Savior, which is a little odd at this kind of event because we’re on a stage, with about a million spotlights on us and all sorts of fog machines going off and we’re up there, in front of everybody, making a tremendous sound. It was like that on Friday night, but on Saturday night, it was different and better, thanks to a life-size cross in the center of the room, and everybody’s chairs facing it. So the band wasn’t quite so much the focus anymore, and that was a good thing, I think.

Christian youth culture is a very very odd thing. I’m not sure I ever understood it. I do know that when I was 14 I would have been thoroughly unimpressed by a man doing card tricks for the Lord. Also, youth leaders everywhere take note: just because you have a video camera doesn’t mean you’re funny. Wearing an afro wig doesn’t mean you’re funny. 5 guys lip-syncing to Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” isn’t inherently funny. I’m sorry, it’s just not. If I were a youth leader at a church today, I would do things different than how I’ve seen them done. I think kids aren’t given the respect they deserve; if the intention is to really challenge kids to mature and act like adults, you can’t begin the ceremony with a 50-minute “Mad-Lib” about vomit, French fries and a farting. It’s just so condescending.

Anyway, in the midst of this Christian conference weekend, I skipped church today and did homework instead. Today’s homework involved finding out how to say, “I hope to one day gain money because I play electronic games” in Spanish. I also did a little research on some Radiohead lyrics, specifically “My Iron Lung”. “A total W.A.S.T.E. of time”. I found it stands for “We Await Silent Tristero's Empire”, which is a reference to Thomas Pynchon's novel "The Crying of Lot 49." In the novel, W.A.S.T.E. is an underground system of communication, with Tristero being a personification of goodness and humanity and decency in a dystopian world, much like the world in “Brazil” or “Delicatessen”. As we all know, W.A.S.T.E. is the official brand of Radiohead merchandise online, which is kind of hilarious in it’s ironic self-aggrandizing.

Friday, February 18, 2005

Speak up, Mr. Buckley!

So, on my way home from work right now, I just dropped by Everyday Music and picked up 2 singles collections from 2 great bands: The Jesus & Mary Chain, and Echo & the Bunnymen. These are 2 terrific bands that I haven't listened to, in any great amount, since probably 1991, my 7th and 8th grade years. I'm sure (read: I hoped) my mom was freaked out by my listening to bands with odd names, or names that sounded Christian but weren't. Listening to these songs right now makes me nostalgic for 8th grade, specifically one week between 8th and 9th grade that I spent with my friend Mark who had recently moved up to Seattle. We listened to a lot of CDs in Mark's room, and rode the bus around Seattle, going to the zoo, the mall, the cd store, and the ilk. It was during this week that I bought 10 TDK SA 90s (blank tapes, that is). With these tapes, I copied:

Nirvana - Nevermind
Beastie Boys - Check your Head
The Housemartins - London 0, Hull 4
The Stone Roses - The Stone Roses
They Might Be Giants - Apollo 18
The House of Love - The House of Love
Robyn Hitchcock - Globe of Frogs
Pixies - Bossanova
and several more, plus several mix tapes that I can't recall

This was also the week that I bought U2 - Achtung Baby, and Pixies - Come On, Pilgrim on cd, and I also bought an Achtung Baby t-shirt to wear at the new huge public school I was going to be attending. This was the music that signaled my transition from going to a close-knit private school, to the anonymity of going to a school with more people than I'd ever seen in my life in one place. So this music reminds me of a time and place when these songs were the common bond between me and one of my very best friends. After this week, it was all downhill for several years, with peaks and valleys, of course, but mostly valleys, until I was 20 and finally sought help from a professional instead of from my music.

Much of the music I listened to at the time (8th grade) was due in large part to Mark, and his big brother Jesse. Jesse was the "cool" older brother with Morrissey (or was it Elvis? or both?) painted on the back of his leather jacket, and had HUGE posters of Echo & the Bunnymen and The Smiths and Bauhaus in his room. I idolized the crap out of him. He made me my first mix tape, but there was no tracklisting, so I just kind of had to guess what artists were on it. I know now that it was: the Primitives, the Sundays, 10,000 Maniacs, the Smiths, The Cure, Morrissey, the Stone Roses, the House of Love, Inspiral Carpets, Bauhaus, Dali's Car, etc. I'm sure there was more, but after 15 years, the memory's a li'l dim.

Anyway, Jeff Buckley says in that "Live in Chicago" DVD that nothing good came from the 80's, but he's dead now, so I guess I'll have the final word in this argument, eh Jeff? What's that?

Thursday, February 17, 2005

Jazz

Just a quick note to plug my own music. For those of you who live in Portland, "The Four Pounds", my jazz-type group with Jamin, Luke, and J. McLain is playing at Costellos tonight. Info about the venue can be found by clicking on the headline "Jazz" above. Adios.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

VD is for Everyone!

Yesterday was St. Valentine's Day, a day when all good Americans set aside time from work and school and other obligations to think about the hard work that Ol' Saint Valentine did 450 years ago, driving the rabid pink candies off of the mainland. The legend is that one fine morning, on a February 7th, on or about 1550, Cornwallace “The Saint” De'Valentine woke up to find his morning cappuccino and croissant being angrily eaten by a pink candy. His reaction was pretty normal, for the time. He offered the candy a napkin, another shot of espresso, and a slice of lemon. The buffalo, then squinted at Cornwallace. The pink candy grimaced, whistled a few bars of, “You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet”, then put on boxing gloves, and punched Cornwallace De’Valentine square in the nose. De’Valentine, being a man of honor, would not let this aggression stand, so he roused an angry mob, claiming that the candy had looked sideways at his wife. The mob reacted accordingly, and following De’Valentine’s lead, they began to bake. They baked like the wind, like their mothers, and their mother’s mothers had never baked. After a week of baking, the village had 1500 croissant, scones, and mocha raspberry lemon bars, all of which they offered to the pink candies, if they would just “leave us alone”. The candies agreed, but only on the condition that they can come back once a year to haunt us. And the rest, as they say, is history. Thank god for the American history courses in our high schools.

To celebrate the big day, M and I got Chinese take-out, then sat in separate rooms doing homework.

Death to the Demoness Alegra Geller!

After watching “eXistenZ” and after the class discussion of it, I really had to take a step back and think about why I play video games, and was I making the best use of my time. I want to play music professionally, but so often, when I have the time to practice, or write songs, I end up watching TV, or playing video games. My life is pretty full, so when I have free time, the easiest thing is to just escape into a video game; while this can be a fun diversion, it isn’t satisfying in the long-term, it only provides brief pleasure. Whereas, the satisfaction that comes from getting paid to play the music I love, is much deeper and (dare I say it) life-affirming. I’m doing what I love - creating art, with the skills I have, and that’s something that can’t ever happen with the Xbox, no matter how many hours or days one spends playing at it.

So, I’ve decided to give up Xbox indefinitely. On Wednesday, I gave it to J to watch after, while I try to do more productive things with my time. My wife reminded me that it was Ash Wednesday, and maybe I could just give it up for Lent, but since the idea of Lent has absolutely no significance to me, I decided against that. My plan is to go for 3 months without the Xbox, while trying to focus my time on my music and education. If I can make it ok for 3 months, then I’ll probably just sell it or let J keep it.

Sunday, February 13, 2005

Grammys - YEAH!!

I just saw the worst thing I've ever seen in my life: Bono, Stevie Wonder, Alicia Keys, Steven Tyler, Scott Weiland, Brian Wilson, Norah Jones, Billie Joe Armstrong, Allison Krauss on violin, some country jerkwad, backed by Velvet Revolver, featuring Slash. They were all on-stage performing "Across the Universe" and immediately after, you can download the song on iTunes, for some sort of "charity", which God Only Knows where the money actually goes, and how much actually ends up helping the homeless or whoever. Nobody could just sing the melody how John Lennon wrote, they all had to "personalize" it, and make it "soulful". Ugh. John and Paul must be spinning in their graves. It was the biggest circle jerk I've ever seen on TV.

Oh, and the ever-relevant Grammys just awarded Jelly Roll Morton a lifetime achievement award. Jelly-freaking-Roll Morton!! What is this? The Roaring 20's? Hopefully, sometime soon, Usher will re-record some of his songs, to make them appealing to my generation. YEAH!! gets my award for lyric of the year.

Bono gets the Donald Trump Hair Maintenance award.

Poor elderly James Brown is singing about being a "Sex Machine". Papa's Got a Brand New Colostomy Bag! It'll be a miracle if he doesn't fall down dead before the song is over.

Sheryl Crow looks like a whore. Or like Princess Leia in her Jabba's Palace slave girl bikini. No, more like a whore.

And now a tribute to Hoagy Carmichael. WTF? This is my Grandma's awards show.

I love how by the time the one guy on stage that actually knew Ray Charles gets to speak, the yank-him-off-stage music starts playing.

"Tonight, a tragic natural disaster is the focus." I wouldn't call U2's ticket fiasco a natural disaster, but that's just my opinion.

Now some jerk in a suit is talking about the dangers of illegaly downloading music. I'm pretty sure his suit cost more than my car. Ass.

Saturday, February 12, 2005

Where the beer flows like wine

It’s totally funny that it took my wife, my brother and I about 5 hours of cleaning to prepare for “Birthday Bloopers 2005”, a joint birthday party for Jonny and Moz, and the theme was “A Lifetime of Regrets”; we did all this freaking cleaning, and within half an hour of people getting there, there was just drunken revelry as far as the eye could see, throwing garbage everywhere, puking in any available couch, using poor Yoshi’s back-fur to wipe their mouths on, tying Swiffers onto Lola’s tail, you get the idea.

Anyway, so my wife’s birthday party last night was totally wild; never in my life have I seen more bare asses at one party. I was like, “Hey, the music’s pumpin’, the wine’s aflowin’, the dogs are barkin’, let’s get naked!” And I was totally mostly kidding. But somebody took me dead seriously, and stripped all the way down, and starting playing “Weeble Wobbles”, and he definitely wobbled, but indeed didn’t fall down. I was very privileged and honored to have esteemed members of Portland's rock community in my own living room, drinking my three dollar wine, shelling my pistachios, and getting bitten by my dogs. The party attracted friends, old and new, and a few homeless folks looking for a free beer, which is one of the many benefits of living near a very busy street which happens to be a mecca for whores and bums.

One of the many highlights of the evening was when we did “The Safety Dance”, and I busted out the traffic cones, hard hats, and manhole covers. And not the kind of “man-hole” covers you’re thinking of, you perv. The vibe was totally, like, 80’s American Bandstand meets Laptop Chic, meets Lip-Ring Punk, meets Kill Bill Vol. 1 Silhouette Fight Scene. So you totally know what I mean. Lots of fighting, drinking, dancing, eating, conversation, backstabbing, bickering, and cattiness. Basically, a wonderful time was had by all.

Ok, this is just a post-blogging note to all my “friends”. If I ever invite you out to dinner and you say “yes”, and then you call back and ask if you can bring some other friends, and I say “yes”, and then you call back again, and say that you and your jerky friends are going to sit at a separate table from me, I will totally disown you betraying jackanapes. Just so that it’s known, and is now in writing.

Friday, February 11, 2005

The Rest of the 100 Things about M.

33. She sings the words “Hell yeah!” hilariously, in the style of that awful band Creed.
34. She totally rocks
35. She puts up with my crap
36. She doesn’t put up with my crap for very long.
37. She can take it.
38. She can dish it out.
39. She has, at one time in our lives, called our dog “Chachi Merengue”
40. She’s probably reading this, right now!
41. She can probably kick my *ss.
42. She is concerned about our house.
43. She is concerned about our city.
44. She is concerned about our nation.
45. She is concerned about our planet.
46. She is much better at math than me.
47. She likes Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.
48. She prefers Trader Joe’s Peanut Butter Cups.
49. She likes her mother-in-law (!)
50. She has great taste in music.
51. She can be pretty stubborn, and God bless her for that.
52. She knows what she likes, and she sticks with it.
53. She is very sweet.
54. She has real good raspy laugh as well as quick hitting 'hah'.
55. She rarely says negative things about anyone.
56. She taught Beth the thong dance.
57. She’s dead sexy.
58. She is absolutely hysterically funny, first thing in the morning.
59. She claims to not be a “morning person”.
60. She does hilarious impressions.
61. She lets me be myself.
62. She also lets me do just about anything I want.
63. She’s pretty tall.
64. She’s still shorter than me.
65. She smells good.
66. She has gone fishing way more than I ever have.
67. She might not be proud of #66.
68. She was very mature (seemingly), even at the tender age of 20.
69. That is to say, she knows when and how to act like an adult.
70. She is a sucker for festive drinks from Starbucks.
71. She laughs at my jokes, out of pity, after I have to explain them to her.
72. She likes her Corona’s with a lime.
73. She likes her Hefeweizen with a lemon.
74. She likes to go on bike rides.
75. She likes to go on epic walking adventures with Lola.
76. She fell in love with the drummer.
77. She is sympathetic.
78. She is pretty insightful.
79. She’s pretty spontaneous.
80. She likes to plan ahead, using the calendar and whatnot.
81. She will sometimes plan, like, a day in advance, what she’s going to wear to a party.
82. She owns a pair of pink jeans.
83. She owns white go-go boots.
84. She owns a pair of green jeans.
85. God only knows (literally) how many pairs of shoes I have.
86. After reading #85, she’ll probably say something like, “I don’t have nearly as many shoes as ____.”
87. She begged me not to cut my hair, claiming that I wouldn’t like it, and neither would she.
88. She now likes my shorter hair, and I do not. Savor the irony.
89. She likes kitty cats.
90. She prefers dogs.
91. She might think this post is too: long/boring/wistful/sappy/romantic for words.
92. She works hard.
93. She plays hard.
94. Whatever, she’ll do what she wants!
95. She is a total firecracker.
96. Old people make her weepy.
97. To her, old age begins at 30.
98. She might tell you that #97 is a lie.
99. She might be right about saying #97 is a lie.
100. She loves me, and I love her.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

100 things about M (a list in multiple postings)

1. She is now, technically, in her “late 20’s”.
2. She has known me for about 6 1/2 years.
3. She doesn’t grow her hair out in it’s natural color.
4. She plays “Monkey Gone to Heaven” like a champ on the bass guitar.
5. She kept all the mix tapes I made for her.
6. In her sleep, she once said, “Are you crazy? Are you out of your mind?” My answer, of course, was “Yes.”
7. She has a few favorite words, none of which will be posted here.
8. She is my favorite vegan.
9. Even though she is a vegan, she likes cheese with her mac.
10. She works hard, and she goes to school.
11. If she’s not really busy, she goes a little nuts.
12. She quotes the hell out of “Napoleon Dynamite”
13. She called me a geek for having a blog, until she got one of her own. Now she’s the one, boy, I tell you; is she ever.
14. She observes and notices peoples interactions in a way I could never.
15. She encourages me to pursue my interests.
16. She knows that life is not all about money.
17. She sings along with songs all the time.
18. When she doesn’t know the words, she makes them up.
19. Oftentimes, her words are better than the original words.
20. Even after I “corrected” her, she got out the lyric sheet and showed me she had the right words.
21. She taught Lola to say “ROCK AND ROLL!”
22. She likes National Geographic.
23. She made up the best dance for “The Thong Song”, and will gladly do it, with little or no prompting.
24. When drinking, she’s prone to saying, “I can write a hit play, why can’t I have a little drink-drink to unwind myself?”
25. She adds the word “little” to describe: my little video games, my little band, my little iPod, my little computer.
26. She’s totally hot. And I’m saying that objectively.
27. Actually, she already did some modeling, thank you.
28. She says, “What the crap?”
29. She’ll frequently mouth words, without actually saying them, randomly, throughout her sentences.
30. Her favorite drinks are: Fat Tire, Bombay Gin & Tonic, Mojito.
31. She goes to U2 concerts with me, even if she’s so-so about the band.

Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Advise This!

So, in my Basic Design class today, this goofy “advisor” with a beard came in and told us all that in order to graduate we need, like, 180 credits. We were promised he would perform magic tricks, put heads in lion’s mouths, the works, but instead we got all this jabbering:

He: … and those remaining 6 Capstone credits can be from any subject you want. Heh heh. Some people even do something unrelated to their major… And that’s OK!! It really is. My goodness…

Me: What if we don’t know what our major is yet?

He: I… uh.. um… What do you mean?

Me: What if we’re currently undecided?

He: Well, I don’t understand how that… Registration is next week, for the spring term, so you need to know what you want to take.

Me: But I might not be a Graphic Design major. I might choose Music, or Communications, or English.

He: Then why are you in this class?

Me: Uh uh uh. Mmm mm mm? I nun know?

He: What? Are there marbles in your mouth, boy?

Me: (gloomily) Yes, sir…

He: Come up here and spit them into my hand. What’s your name?

Me: (walking to the front) Robert Ricigliano.

He: Well Mr. Rasooliarno, I’d suggest you find some direction in your life and head there, beginning immediately. Do you understand me?

Me: (spitting marbles into his hand) I understand you’re an ass.

He: What did you say?! Robert?! What did you just say?

Me: I said I underestimated this class. It really succeeds beyond my wildest imaginations. But you smell like an elephant’s butt.

This went on for a few hours, just back and forth, with no real answers. So my question, gentle reader, is this: what course of study should I pursue as a major? I love to play music, and have already taken about a years worth of prerequisites, but you have to audition to get into the program, and I don’t deal well with rejection. Graphic design seems kind of easier, but I appear to have little or no natural talent, and only began my drawing-type art studying last term. I’ve also taken quite a few English/Lit. type classes, but this seems like a fairly impractical degree, or so says my friend over at Feaverish. Another one I’m considering is Communication with a concentration in Media Studies, which is basically what I did in high school, but I have not taken any Communications-type classes since then, so I’d have to play catch-up in my pre-requisites.

Sunday, February 06, 2005

The Reason for No Real Update Today

My homework assignment is this:

"Deploy the Adorno, Introducing Cultural Studies and other readings as you make global and general comments on / assessments of pop culture."

When I signed up for a Pop Culture class, I thought I'd be studying things like this. What the hell gives, anyway?

Friday, February 04, 2005

All writing is not good writing, but Craig Thompson's is.

So, forgive me, please, my pleasant haiku soldier, you may want to plug your ears and eyes, but would somebody please tell the people who put poetry on their websites that no one cares? Seriously. I don’t want to read your lazy rhymes. If it’s part of a “poetry” web-ring or something, that’s fine, or if it’s lyrics to a song, that’s great. But if it’s a poetry blog, masquerading as something that it’s not, then I say, “Keep your bloody ridiculous sentiments to yourself”. Maybe it’s not poetry that bugs me, just poor grammar and poor sentence/paragraph structure. (On a sidenote, Word wanted me to structure the previous sentence as ‘Maybe it’s not poetry that bugs just poor grammar, poor sentence/paragraph structure and me.' WTF Word? I’m trying to write an update here. Seriously.) Anyway, poetry/writing for example:

today i’m tired
but i think after coffee
i’ll feel better
but maybe it just needs some sugar
the way my heart does
so terribly lonly
is it onely me?

I mean come on, is that poetry? Or is it just terrible prose? Not that I’m the beacon of excellent writing or anything, but please! Put a little effort into your shite before you put it online, thou poets. I wish Safari had a way to filter out things that annoy the living crap out of me.

I read a really great, really moving book the other day. It’s called “Blankets” and it’s written and illustrated by Craig Thompson. You can visit his official site here. “Blankets” is basically his graphic novel/autobiography. Really great drawings, emotional depth, a great tragic love story, as well as insightful stories from his childhood. I found a lot of in the book I could relate to, but maybe that’s just a sign of good writing.

Currently listening to: who really cares?

Red, White & Blaine!

I have just one question: is it wrong for me to loathe a self-important, no-talent, enviably rich bastard? No, I’m not talking about Bono. It’s David Blaine. Can I say what it is exactly that I hate about him? Not really. Maybe it’s professional jealousy, penis envy, or perhaps it’s because his lousy mustachioed face reminds me of so many jerks that I’ve ridden the MAX with. Ok, not really SO many, but one sonofabitch specifically. I was like 14, and had gone downtown with my friend Mark, who was in town visiting from Seattle. We got on the MAX at Pioneer Courthouse Square, to get a free ride over to Lloyd Center. So, we’re on there, and then this dirty looking, rotten ass-face with a “G ‘n’ R” hat, and like an Iron Maiden shirt, and some ripped up black jeans, and some untied Reeboks, he gets on with his friend/brother/fellow asshole. It was probably about 5:00 in the evening, on a Sunday, and Ass #1 starts swinging this big freakin bike chain around and around, and he knocks my backpack off of the seat next to me and onto the floor of the train. He looks at me; in the eye, if you can imagine! Then, here’s what actually went down:

Ass #1: Are you going to pick up your shit?”
Me: Yeah.
Ass #1: Little shit.
Mark: That’s an intelligent comment.
Me: (nervous laughter)

Ass #1 & Ass #2 go to a different car and compare wispy moustaches or something.

David Blaine reminds me of those 2 dudes crossed with that annoying-as-hell little squealing lemur-on-crack from “Will & Grace”. But I probably just say this all because I’m jealous of DB's ability to get famous while having no talent. And he can do really amazing things, like, stand in one place for 35 hours. Talk about enviable! There’s no limit to his capabilities! Maybe for his next stunt, he’ll drive around, then sit in a chair for a while!

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

Sloop 0, Yoshi 1

So, I can practically hear you over the internet phone lines, screaming, “Enough with the phony baloney sentimentality, already! Make with the fart jokes and endlessly funny movie quotes, for cryin’ out loud!” Ok, I’ve heard you and my internal clock, which is also screaming, “Life’s too short for introspection.”

The other night I was sleeping soundly in my king size bed. I think M was somewhere on the bed, too, but it’s not hard to get lost on that thing. It’s a really monstrous piece of mattress; you can easily fit 8 adults on it. Seriously. ahem… Anyway, so I was sleeping and everything, and then I hear this sound of squeaking brakes, or maybe old fan belts, or shrieking harpies, I couldn’t really tell in my half-asleeping state. As I came to, I realized that it was my little dog, Yoshi, who was making the noise. Yeah, I know it’s “bad” for a dog-owner to let their “pet” sleep on the “bed”, but I figure that material things will all pass away in time anyway, so what’s the point in making distinctions like “master” and “pet”, or “my bed” and “pile of dirty clothes on the floor”, or “dog food” and “afternoon snack”? So Yoshi was kind of spooning with me, although, since he’s only 15 inches long, we don’t really “spoon”, it’s more like I’m the spoon and he’s a hairy meatball just up at the end of the spoon-chest. So he’s making this whimpering-wheezing-whinnying sort of sound, and it woke me up. What do I do? Grab his nose to wake him up and make him shut the freak up, right? Right. So, that’s exactly what I did. Then I reached back to give him a scratch behind the ears, but what I felt wasn’t an ear, but his hind leg. What did this mean? As far as I can tell, when I thought I had grabbed Yoshi’s furry nose, I had actually grabbed his furry wang. Yes, I touched Yoshi’s wang. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would ever touch a dog’s wang. I briefly considered what to do, but fell asleep before I could do anything like wash my hands, or wipe them on Lola, the other dog, who may or may not have been on the bed.

Currently listening to: Morrissey – “This is Not Your Country” from the single “Satan Rejected My Soul”. His 1997 album “Maladjusted” had better b-sides than the actual content on the album itself. Need proof? Compare this song, or “I can have both” or “The Edges are No Longer Parallel” with just about anything on that album.

“Morrissey conveys all the worst aspects of bestiality fused with homosexuality." - Santa Monica Reporter, 1992.

“As if simply conveying basic bestiality couldn't satisfy me - but no, I had to plunge for the very worst aspects! (I later wondered how this writer might describe the best aspects of bestiality.)” - Morrissey



February 2, part 1

So, most of the U.S., as far as I know, recognizes today, February 2, as Groundhog’s Day. To most of us, it’s a funny or meaningless day, relating to this li’l varmint bastard who may or may not see his shadow. To others of us, it’s a day to remember and/or watch the terrifically funny Bill Murray/Andie MacDowell rom/com/fantasy “Groundhog’s Day”, which I recently bought on dvd.

But in my family, today is more important, because it is the birthday of my sister, Chloe. Her due date was late May, but she was born 16 weeks premature, on this day in 1987, at Emmanuel Hospital in NE Portland. The details of the medicine involved is a little hazy to me, but I remember that when she was born, her entire body could fit in my dad’s hand, and I believe she weighed about 2 or 3 pounds. She was small, but grew bigger and had the most beautiful eyes. She lived her whole life in the hospital, but did visit our home (with a nurse) on Thanksgiving and Christmas. Shortly before she died, she had a tracheotomy, but apparently it wasn’t enough to save her. In total, she lived about 14 months. I was 9 when she was born, and 10 when she died. Her life and death totally changed the relationships within my family, and I wrongly credited her death with much of my teenage depression. So she would have been 18 today. Happy Birthday, Chloe.