Monday, December 29, 2008

Perceiving Glasvegas

"I need to make sure you know that's just the prescription talking" Geraldine - Glasvegas

I just learned of the Glasgow based band "Glasvegas" when I saw them on TV recently.

Upon first listen of their song "Geraldine", my ears immediately stood up and applauded for like an hour. Yeah, they wrapped round the back of my head and stretched, so now I look like some white, Ubangi chick and I can't stop eating peanuts (good thing I have long hair).

The awesome thing about falling in love with songs is that you can do it frequently and never feel like you've let an earlier song down. You can love many at once and no one thinks you're a whore. You can love so hard that you lose your forehead, and nobody gets freaked out. There's never a break up; you just may kind of lose touch for a while. Not only are you allowed, but you're even expected to get back together for a quickie whenever you want - fucking bliss, that is.

I love this song.

I love it so much, I want to introduce it to my friends and protect it from people I'm related to.

I love it so much I would fly my plaid covered ass to New York next week to see the band play it live, but the Bowery is sold out and my connections there are all but severed (oops).

I'm a longtime fan of bands from Scotland (The Jesus and Mary Chain, Teenage Fanclub, Franz Ferdinand) mostly because they know how to keep things simple so that the melody stands out in a much more soul-ripping way. Simple, but not boring. Rich Costey (Muse, Interpol, Franz Ferdinand) did the production and I just want to lick his subtleties repeatedly.

Love is blind but it ain't deaf (lust is deaf but it has 20/20 vision).

Too bad songs are easier to love than people.

Currently listening :
By Glasvegas
Release date: 2008-10-07

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Floss the Ruined Verse

"I don't like playing ping pong
I don't like the Viet Cong
I don't like Burger King
I don't like anything
" I'm Against It - The Ramones.

I was a bit inebriated the other night at a friend's when they decided we should watch "Across the Universe". I tried to be polite and warn that I hate when other people do Beatle songs (see my "Under the Coverz" blog for specific details), but I was outnumbered and told I would LOVE it.

Admittedly, I have an overwhelming personality at times, but the one girl making the case for this film is downright intimidating. I think if she pushed me into a corner and insisted that I was gay, I would immediately get online and send my mom a PFLAG sweatshirt.

I still mildly protested but then they drugged me, bound me to the couch with dental floss, and then put the toothpicks in my eyelids all Clockwork Orange style. Resistance was futile.

I don't think I've ever been told to "shut up" so much in my life, but I couldn't help myself. I did try to be flexible; I mean I've changed my mind before, but nope, not this time. The Jaws of Life couldn't pry open my mind. I'm glad they all enjoyed it, but seeing Bono dressed like Lemmy from Motorhead finally sobered me up. It was time to brave the dangerous, foggy drive home.

The second I got into my car, I grabbed my IPOD and caressed its black body in search of the real thing. No, no, no, you can't just go from that mockery straight to the MASTERS. No, one must cleanse the palate first.

Oasis. There couldn't be a better transition.

"Let It Be…Naked" had to be next, since I was feeling the PURIST in me. Even though I was a fan of Spector's early shit with the girl groups of the '60's, I like these recordings sans his "wall of sound" much better. See, I'm not completely against change =)


The next day I was asked by someone else what the film was about. "Ruining The Beatles' songs," I replied.

Let them fucking be.

Currently listening :
Let It Be...Naked
By The Beatles

Monday, December 22, 2008

Happy Harmonica and Merry Syphilis!

"Ho F*ckin' Ho"

No I don't dress my cats and role play (ok, just on weekends, but we only do scenes from the first season of "Lost"). Scoob was messing about the decorations so I popped the cap on his head and zapped him into Nikon eternity. It's a minute he can't get back, but I thoroughly enjoyed it despite the lawsuit he filed against me for taking nudish photos of him and then posting them on the web. (He parades around here naked all the time, what does he expect?)

Well if you're into the holidays, then I hope they rock. If you think they suck and can't even feign going through the motions this year, then I hope they are swift and painless.

May your new year begin in the arms of a loved one, or at least a lusted one that you respect to whatever degree you are capable of.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Happy 65th Keith Richards!

In my lifetime, Richards has always looked older than language itself, but now he's actually reached retirement age and he still works a stage as if he could do it in his sleep (or a drug induced coma).

Were a nuclear war to ever occur, I imagine the bombs going off and as everyone was incinerated, Richards would awaken to the ruckus, light a cigarette, and then turn to a cockroach (the only other survivor) and say something completely unintelligible while choking on his own laughter.

If for some reason I outlive this man and I could be let near his corpse without a hazmat suit on, I will break off one of his index fingers, roll it in some papers, and smoke it.

He is my second favorite guitarist of all time (duh...Hendrix).

His interview on youtube with Hunter Thompson is interesting:

and so is watching him bash a fan in the head with a guitar:

But I'm about the Monkey Man:

Currently listening:
Sticky Fingers
By The Rolling Stones

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Bubble Day

"It's just coincidence
Well, you can talk that way
But I have to say I don't believe in it
It was a chill of chance,
I decided to dance the days away
" Tears - The Chameleons UK

It's my birthday and it's been a week of strange coincidences, which made me think of a past birthday back in NYC.

There used to be a club that my friend DJ'd at called "Babyland", which when you've had a few drinks doesn't sound half bad, but looking back with a sober eye it just sounds absurdly goofy. Seriously though, they had a café in the front of the club that had the BEST tiramisu in town. That was going to be my birthday cake stop on our clubbing rounds that evening.

After a 70's disco place, my friends and I were well oiled to jump into the giant cribs at Babyland, but first I parked myself on a bar stool for my Italian sugar shot. Everyone else headed for the back bar or dance floor, but I wasn't alone at the counter.

The guy behind the counter knew what I came for, and my yelling "Birthday! Birthday! Birthday!" reminded him that I wasn't paying for it. He happily came towards me with TWO big slices of precious silky Tiramisu, but only gave me one. The guy next to me was the other salivating recipient.

"It's your birthday too?" he asked. I nodded, shoveling yummies onto my tongue and not making eye contact so he wouldn't get any ideas (I was seeing one guy, but the guy I REALLY liked was ten feet behind me - I'm me so of course neither worked out, le sigh).

Birthday boy didn't believe me, so I tossed my ID at him and continued molesting my dessert. Not only were we born on the same day and year (he showed me his ID as well), we were both musicians that played bass and sang in a band at that time. Both of us clearly having a penchant for Babyland Tiramisu brought us to connect for just 15 minutes, never to meet again.


The other day a fellow blogger, that I met online a few months ago, mentioned in her blog some guy that I once went on a date with. She lives in another country and we've never even come close to crossing paths, but she also dated this guy. I haven't thought of him in years (he was a psycho), and today I saw him on TV! I immediately alerted my blogger friend, who then also told me he was in an advert as well. Whilst awaiting her reply, I got an email from my bestie Blonde Robert telling me he was getting my specific brand of vodka (I'm a gimlet girl) for me to begin tonight's get together in his kingdom of Wesley Chapel (North Tampa). He knows I'm particular, and I love him 100% legally for it.

Right then, up popped another gmail from my blogger friend and guess what the advert was? The exact brand of vodka that I was grinning about, seconds before.


As I was typing this, I got a birthday well wish from someone I became acquainted with because we are both fans of the band I quoted at the top of this piece.

Co-inky dink?


A good chunk of the eyes that peruse my words aren't "Myspace friends", so they didn't get the invite bulletin for tonight, or they live very, very far away so they can't possibly be in attendance.

Presence is far better than presents, but if you can't come out, send cash, concert tickets to anything but country (Oasis would be nice - I've got plane tickets I need to use up soon), a Giant Panda, a three month boyfriend (I only lease these days), a round trip ticket to the mid 1960's, a cure for insomnia (passing out drunk isn't my thing), a tour of Dylan Moran's scalp, or best of all....find a way to make me laugh with your clothes on.

I know you all want to shower me with flowers and jewelry, but I'm not that girl (plants are for food or funerals, diamonds only dazzle the least intelligent among us). Plus, I'd rather have you here with me.

My friends that are here are so awesome that they're actually resurrecting Hendrix, Joplin, Lennon, Harrison, Strummer, most of the Ramones, Kerouac, Pollock, Tupac, Bill Hicks, and Brian Jones just for my day.

There may even be bubbles. =)

Currently listening :
By Bill Hicks
Release date: 1997-02-25

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Illin’ Noid

"Someone else is gonna come and clean it up
Born and raised for the job
Someone always does
I wish you'd get up get over
get up, get over and turn your tape off
" A Wolf At The Door - Radiohead

The state of Illinois called me today. Seems they heard my birthday was on the horizon and they were feeling really givvy give and want to bestow upon me the title of "Governor" as a gifty if I'm up for it.

As you have probably seen in recent days, the seated Governor (who resembles a 1970's version of Roman Polanski meets a used car salesman) was on the take, and he and his creepy, half-feathered hair have been more than tardly flamboyant about it.

It seems that since my last name is just as fucked up as his for the public to pronounce, it put me up for consideration to replace him. I have no criminal record, and when they tapped my phones all they heard was the national anthem done in pig Latin accompanied by bongos, so they figure I'm their best bet to lead the hub of the Midwest for the next few years (or at least till I'm caught with the lead singer of The Academy Is behind a McDonalds with my left hand violating the open container law and my right hand redecorating the inside of his low riders - power does strange things to me).

I was one breath away from flabbergasted as I've never even lived in Illinois. One school trip and a layover at O'Hare airport is really all the time I've put in there. I also can't fathom that they'd appoint someone who isn't a Christian, but hey, if Oprah will have me, I'm there.

I don't even know much about the state of Illinois. I know John Cusack lives there, so maybe I can force him to accompany me to my inauguration. Wilco, The Smashing Pumpkins, Fall Out Boy, and Plain White T's hail from there so it's not desolate as far as music goes. I guess I could make it my domain.

I've never fancied myself a public official and really don't think I'll get much done, but I suppose standing still is better than moving backwards these days.

I wonder if I'll get to pardon people. I would abuse that a little with prank calls to executions. They'll be strapped in, sweaty eyeballs on the NEEDLE, and everything will come to a halt when they see the phone light up. Could it be? The governor is really stepping in to pardon this guy for killing six women just because they wore red?

Nope. She just called to say "Psyche!"

Currently listening :
Hail to the Thief
By Radiohead
Release date: 2003-06-10

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

NT and the Beat........(les)

"Nothing you can know that isn't known. Nothing you can see that isn't shown. Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be. It's easy." All You Need Is Love - The Beatles

There really isn't anything I can say about The Beatles that hasn't been said, so pardon any regurgitation of ideas or feelings that have been probably more eloquently discussed by previous admirers.

They're my favorite band of all time, no question. The first song I memorized all the way through wasn't the "ABC's", it was "I Want to Hold Your Hand" (to this day my favorite thing to do is holding hands and be held by them, so blame the Fab Four for my handsiness).

Aside from their brilliance in musicianship, their humor was captivating. They brought my beloved sarcasm to the fore like no other preceding them, but knew that subtlety was the charm of charms. When you back that with a guitar, I am sold (no returns once you remove the tags, and no I won't tell you where those are).

They were four very strong individuals that were similarly unique (oxymoron alert), but without one, they weren't The Beatles. Each was irreplaceable.

I'm trying to pre-edit myself as I write this because the way I feel about this band could easily turn into a book. I've avoided them as a complete blog subject because in my mind, they're just too big.

It's the anniversaries of John and George's deaths (George's just over a week ago) but I don't want to go into the loss thing. They did nothing but ADD to existence as we know it, and I guess I just want to remind your senses of this fact.

I've decided to include a video of "Rain", a lesser known song (if there is such a thing), but definitely a fave. One of my old flames told me that he always thinks of me when he hears it because I played it for him on the beach some night a few lifetimes ago. To be forever associated with that song to someone just makes it even more meaningful to me. =)

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Pine Ridge Holiday Toy Drive

Hey there! You probably don't know this, but the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota is one of the poorest areas of the United States (some don't even have indoor plumbing there). Every holiday season an unjustly incarcerated man named Leonard Peltier organizes a toy drive from his cell for the kids that live on the Pine Ridge rez.

I try to send something every year and hope that if you can afford to, you may want to send a new toy or new clothes to these kids too. NEW as in "not used". If you received a present and you don't want it, that's still new imo, but I doubt anyone reading this got a toy they didn't want.

I usually send some sort of music player with a battery recharger and rechargeable batteries, but occasionally I run across estate sales with brand new with tags clothing that I pack in there too.

I'll enclose the letter about the drive that also contains gift ideas, if you are so inclined:

Leonard Peltier is once again organizing a holiday gift drive for the children of the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. Pine Ridge is one of the most impoverished areas in the United States, and this is one way Peltier continues his humanitarian work for his people despite his 32-year incarceration. Help him reach out beyond the bars that imprison him. The gift drive helps not only the children and families, but also Leonard himself, keeping his spirit strong through the difficult holiday season.

The Gift Drive will serve ages newborn to 18 years. Ideas for Christmas Gifts per Age Range:

Puzzles, Board Books, Building Blocks, Stuffed Animals, Blankets, Trucks, Musical Instruments for Toddler, Riding Toys, Push Toys, Baby Dolls (All Ethnicities) or Stuffed Animals, Clothes

Children Ages 3-6
Baby Dolls, Dolls or Barbies (All Ethnicities), Puzzles, Books, Developmental Board Games (Counting Games), Arts and Crafts Sets, Race Tracks, Legos, Dress Up Clothes, Children’s Videos, Bikes, Clothes

Children Ages 7-12
Board Games, Books, Purses and Wallets, Art Sets, Boom Boxes, Sports Equipment, Barbie Dolls (All Ethnicities) , Arts and Crafts Sets, Journals, Model Car Kits, Clothes, Bikes, Jewelry, Clothes

Teens Ages 13-18
Books, Journals, Bath and Body Gifts, Make Up Sets, Sports Equipment, Purses and Wallets, Jewelry and Watches, Art Supply Kits, Gift Certificates to Wal-Mart or Target, DVD’s or Videos, Clothes

Mail all gifts to:
Rosyln Jumping Bull
BOX 207
Oglala, SD 57764

Thanks man, and feel free to pass this on.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Theosoph Eco

"I swear I recognize your breath
Memories like fingerprints are slowly raising
Me, you wouldn't recall, for I'm not my former
" Elderly Woman Behind The Counter In A Small Town - Pearl Jam

I've heard people repeatedly say that the U.S. hasn't been this politically divided since the Civil War, and then often remarking about the irony of a Senator from Illinois being elected followed by the inevitable comparison of President Elect Obama to the late President Lincoln.

Lincoln reincarnating into our soon to be Commander In Chief has also come up. There are even web sites about the subject, in which some man proclaiming to be the authority on "who's who" in the reincarnated world has stated that PE Obama is NOT FP Abe, but he is actually the newer version of a man named Lyman Trumbull. "Lymie" was also a Senator from Illinois during the Civil War, and he co-authored the Thirteenth Amendment that helped put an end to slavery.

Ooooh I loves me some reincarnation, really I do. It's always laughed off in our culture, but clearly some chubby, bald guys wearing drapes in the Far and Near East really dig it. Chris Rock redid a movie about it (not a very good one, but there is a flick called "Dead Again" that I found refreshingly original for its time), but outside of the new agey types, it's not really a conversation cookie that people regularly chew on.

Wouldn't it be wild though, if all the same yip-yaps from the Civil War were re-living now? That might explain the strange penchant some have for re-enacting it (because nothing else can make that hobby look even slightly within the realms of sanity to me, though I dig the sideburns), and it would at least show the "division" was a tad more CIVIL this time around than the first run we had (stupid chicks carving backwards "B's" on their faces isn't nearly as bad as being bayoneted, one would think).

I'm totally fascinated with the concept of reincarnation, I mean, talk about recycling! The Green Party gets a collective woody when it's even hinted at. I don't believe it as a truth, but I've read loads of books about it (mostly in correlation with hypnosis, another thing that piques my interest), and for whatever reason I don't discount it as a possibility. The hapless romantic in me, I guess (I should charge that bitch rent).

Even though most religions imply or subscribe to such a possibility, it's not lucrative for those that claim a rewarding afterlife (give us your money here on earth and I'll put you on the guest list THERE, I have an "in" with the bearded dudes because I SAY I do). Open minds mean closed wallets to the Catholics (those ornate pointy hats don't pay for themselves). Plus, you are much easier to control if you think you only get one chance to hit it out of the park.

On the other end, you can use this theory to control minds based on the sad fact that if you don't follow another set of manipulative rules, you could come back as one of Ted Nugent's relatives (there's a fate worse than death), depending on one's level of naivety.

We've all known someone that when our eyes first met, there was something familiar. Some of these connections turn out great, and some turn into the sickest displays of dysfunction ever witnessed. Some are lifelong friends, and some just won't let go of you no matter what you do. They make you wonder if you did something not so groovy to them in a previous life. Is there Karma? Is their revenge going to be exacted on me now, then next life I go after them, on and on?

I tried to believe in Karma, but it didn't take. Too many times where I made sure not to hurt someone and then got hurt by them; I told the truth and got lied to. What I put out did not come back, so the evidence for that sort of thesis is shrinking by the day in my world. Could be what you put in doesn't come back till next life? Or is it all just ridiculous pondering that doesn't equal to shark shit (do they? I thought I'd pick a new type of "shit", just for Fuck's sake - we all know how sensitive Fuck is)?

There are a few cosmic things that no one can explain (this blog, for instance). Some of it is absolutely mesmerizing even if I don't subscribe to it as a whole (I can't commit to anything other than being non-committal). I find bits of every philosophy interesting as I habitually THINK, but I'm desperately trying to quit (maybe I'll try the patch).

If reincarnation is a fact and I screwed anyone over before, then man, I am really sorry. Not everyone wants to work out their "stuff", but I never like to be in yuck with anyone. It would bother me if I was hurting someone, yet I've often encountered those that indulge in such acts with psychotic fervor. Maybe I'll come back as one of their offspring (or their offspring's offspring) and hatchet them to death in their sleep.

Currently listening :
The Sun And The Moon Complete [2 CD]
By The Bravery
Release date: 2008-03-18

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Crock Stars

I will be chasing a starlight
Until the end of my life
I don't know if it's worth it anymore
" Starlight - Muse

If you're given a death sentence for Xmas, can you exchange it for a declarative sentence?

Do rich people comfort their pets or kids by saying "my POOR baby"?

Has the phrase "partied like a rock star" (or anything "like a rock star") been done to death? If not, could someone please put it out of its overused, annoying misery?

Unless you've dipped a headband in LSD and then applied it to your sweaty forehead just before you went onstage to take guitar playing to another level in front of 50,000 people, you've not "partied like a rock star".

Unless you've woken up clothing free, unaware of what your name is, and in another non-English speaking country, you've not "partied like a rock star".

I fucking hate everyone who uses this comparison. It demeans the term "rock star". If everyone is an RS, then it's not very special or even palatable anymore.

There are plenty of pop stars, but to me a ROCK STAR is a musician that changed the face of music as we know it. This has nothing to do with album sales, it's about smashing facades and revamping the world (not recycling someone else's work and calling it your own).

You're not the RS of accounting unless you have somehow managed to make it interesting.

You're not the RS of surgery unless you've found a way to transplant heads.

You're not the RS of body piercing unless you've made frontal lobe piercing the next hot thing.

You are, however, probably a lame, trendy-ass, irritating, wannabe that more than likely isn't even comprehensive of anything progressive. I'm also willing to bet you're always yapping loudly on your cellular phone making everyone in earshot fantasize about you being fatally stabbed in the face.

POP star, ROCK star, FILM star. Starlet starring in fucking STARBUCKS.

Stars are unavailable lights that hang in clusters in the sky mostly far apart from one another.

Stars are seen, but never heard.

Be like a real star and shut the fuck up.

Currently listening :
Black Holes and Revelations
By Muse
Release date: 2006-07-11

Sunday, November 23, 2008


"I'm so hot for you, I'm so hot for you
I'm so hot for you and you're so cold
" She's So Cold - The Rolling Stones

The question has been put to me time and time again, and I'm going to come clean here: YES, I would fuck a vampire.

There would be conditions, of course. The vampire must be amazing looking, answer all of my questions beforehand, and have a full stomach so as to avoid any mishaps that could lead to my becoming "undead" as it were ("dead" wouldn't really work for me either, as I really want to catch the season finale of "Californication").

My first curiosity lies in body temperature; how cold are they? Like slightly nippy cold, or icicle cold? I certainly don't want a tongue stuck to a frozen monkey bar type of incident (let alone any other moist parts getting frosted together), and if they are THAT cold, how can they summon the guard? I mean, isn't circulation sort of a necessity for making Count Dickula come to life for a few rounds?

I'm guessing they don't have problems with "shark week"* do they? Not to be gross, but wouldn't that make them hungry?

The fangs, are they there all the time? Because there are certain things that if I wanted them pierced, they'd be pierced already. I like my neck ravished more than Christmas, but the key is not to leave any marks (or puncture wounds), so obviously some self restraint will be required dentally in addition to the "old school" duration practices expected of the living penile partners (no three minute bloodsuckers allowed).

I'm guessing if they're dead there is no cause for concern in the area of STD's or pregnancy, which leads me to my next question? Do they shoot blanks or like tiny little bats or what? I know it's crass, but I gotta know.

Breath. If you have death on your breath, that's a deal breaker. If you're a vampire, you had best be keeping a water pic in that coffin, along with vast amounts of Toms of Maine mouthwash. Even then, I still would request they rinse and spit a half bottle of Belvedere vodka in front of me, just to make sure. Yeesh.

If all these questions are answered to my pleasing, I'm good to go but would have one final request.

Can I wear the cape?

* Menses (ew)

Currently listening :
Vampire Weekend
By Vampire Weekend
Release date: 2008-01-29

Put Your Hands Up

"Put your hands up for Detroit
Our lovely city"
Put Your Hands Up For Detroit - Fedde LeGrand

Yours truly was born in Dearborn, Michigan approximately 5 miles from downtown Detroit.

When most brains process Detroit, two things come up: Motown music and cars.

A good deal of the people I grew up with there have someone in their family that worked or works in the motor vehicle arena (my grandmother and one of my aunts both did 25 years at Ford Motor Company respectively). I don't know what Detroit would be without car companies, but unfortunately, I may soon find out.

This week, pleas for an auto industry bail-out were shocking to the ears as our eyes saw the pleaders fly in three SEPARATE private jets to D.C. for a handout. The representatives being asked for said handout duly responded by tearing their hair out and hanging themselves in alphabetical order (by state) with seatbelts from the latest Ford Fiesta vehicles. Well, not really, but that would've made some good TV.

I won't put my hands up for Detroiters like this, but I can spare a middle finger.

There are a few other auto related "FUCK YOUs" that I would also like to note:

To whoever spilled steering or brake fluid all over the road and it got kicked up into my engine by my wheels this week and cost me 50 bucks to get cleaned off - FUCK YOU!

To whoever dropped the nail on State Rd 54 that decided it's new home would be my left front tire 2 years ago - FUCK YOU! (A similar FUCK YOU to the ass that left one on Wilson Blvd in Arlington, VA when I was 20 as well.)

To the family based business I used to take my old Celica to that seemed to find a way to charge me a grand every single time (which was every three months) I needed a repair - FUCK YOU!

To Toyota when they quit making the Celica - FUCK YOU! (I will rescind this if you bring it back as a hybrid. I get hard just at the mere prospect.)

To Ford for the obvious reasons, and not making better cars than Toyota. I can get a family discount at Ford, but me no likey the product, so again - FUCK YOU!

To anyone I've ever bought a used car from - FUCK YOU!

Now the "Fuck Yeahs":

To my mom for giving me an awesome 2003 Celica - FUCK YEAH!

To Toyota for servicing my car in under an hour the rare few times I had to go there - FUCK YEAH!

To people that sell used car parts on eBay - FUCK YEAH! (I got a $500 part on there for $30 including shipping to my mechanic.)

To my cleavage for helping me out with my mechanics - FUCK YEAH!

To gas being under two bucks a gallon again - FUCK YEAH!

Currently listening :
The Cars
By The Cars

Thursday, November 20, 2008

REVISED All-In: Hypo-Theticritical REVISED

"Cath, it seems that you live in someone else's dream
In a hand-me-down wedding dress
Where the things that could have been are oppressed
" Cath - Death Cab for Cutie

Imagine falling in love with someone to the point that your survival depends on their next breath. This person shares your type of humor, and your beliefs and political views could graciously hang out in the same room together. You love their tongue for providing eloquence in the words you hang onto, and how it sends messages through your skin that cause your eyes to roll back to places rarely seen. You would prefer death to their absence, and they reciprocate in ways you've never fathomed.

Now imagine that they're from another country and their Visa runs out next month and they HAVE to go back minus you. You've sifted through every option, but the only way you can stay together is by getting married. Sooo you do that and live happily ever after, end of story, UNLESS you both have the same epidermal architecture between your legs. Civil unions don't grant green cards.

"We have two kinds of morality side by side: one which we preach but do not practice and another which we practice but seldom preach." ~Bertrand Russell

If you voted to deny homosexual humans ANY of the same rights that you have, you have some s'plaining to do. Why do you get to impose your religious beliefs onto someone else? Beliefs that you, yourself don't 100% follow? Hip-hopcrisy? I'm tired of seeing rappers on tv saying that Obama getting in is a step towards ending discrimination, and then giving props to prop 8. How many of them have had threesomes ya think? Hello, that involves some GAY. If I were to grab my girl Sabrina and offer up some girl on girl on guy with some of these "mic masters", that would be against the WORD word? You think they'd walk away from it? I think I'd see some serious gold teeth shimmering in delight myself. Alas, if gay is wrong, no touchy-touchy.

Decisions are based on biblical references, the book from which they pick and choose what THEY can get down with, but Mo's aren't allowed that same courtesy. It's one thing to want that life for yourself, but it's fucked up to smugly impose on others what you can barely subscribe to. How come homosexuals have to do everything that the bible says but you don't Puffy? Do you think you are better than they are?

Can we at least make "civil unions" allow ALL the rights of marriage and not call it marriage? No mention of them in the bible.

"Separation of Church and State" protects both sides, but I'm so over it leaning off to the right.

ALL IN! If there are amendments based on religious beliefs, THAT is NOT separate, but hey, let's do it to the fucking hilt! The bible states that whoever you stick your dick in, you HAVE to marry them. No exceptions. It also allows for multiple wives ages 13 and up; are we going there too? (R. Kelly will.) Can't eat pork or shrimp (oh the Chinese unemployment rate just skyrocketed and no more quoting Chris Rock's "How much are them ribs?"), and you can't work on the Sabbath or you get stoned to death (pastors included). The bible does not say anything bad about pedophilia (I've read it twice all the way through)…need I go on?

Which part of Christianity are we gonna give the honor? Credit card taking Catholics (pay your way to heaven at just two bucks a candle) or the snake handling southern Baptists (all you can freak)? If I'm forced to hold a live, sober rattlesnake, then I change my mind. I will marry after all, but to someone from another English speaking country that isn't pretending to be democratic when it's not (these countries, damn they lie!).

If we aren't going to separate church and state, then it's time to pay taxes my praying little pretties (retroactive to the 50's when the government put the religious thumbprint on money and our pledge of allegiance). You know what happens then? You'll have to drive 60 miles to find a church, but an illegal abortion clinic will be in spitting distance (or, at the very least, on every Indian reservation next to the casinos).

I really don't give a yak's ass what our money says, and I don't care if you believe in magic underpants, or that you hear voices. I would defend your right to do so, but I am disgusted by those that can't live up to their own yapping ideals and expect others to or they're cancelled as "Americans". What's next then? Would they vote for agnostics (me) or atheists to not be able to marry? How about someone who had a sex change? Hermaphrodites? Who are they allowed to walk down the aisle with?

ALL IN! You can't pick and choose from your moral dictates, and not allow the same privilege to everyone. Not that I even half way like the "Founding Fathers" (I'm part indigenous - we weren't lost you dumb fucks), but they left England because they wanted to NOT have government dictate their religion (though it was perfectly fine for them to do so to the not-so-white inhabitants of the place they fled to - see what happens when you talk to strangers instead of scalping 'em?)

If we're going to change it so that our government is totally "under god", then maybe it's not "indivisible". Theocracy and democracy can't hold the same water. The former doesn't provide "liberty and justice for ALL" without conditions.

I call shotgun on the blue states for us shrimp-eating folks that stay out of other people's business (so long as they aren't breaking the law). Completely equal rights to everyone of legal and consenting age. The religious are also welcome, but your say is no more valued than anyone elses.

I don't think that all people who vote against gay rights are to be equated with skinheads or the folks donning 200 thread counts on their fucked up heads. I do, however, wonder if by saying gay is "wrong" in any capacity, gives fuel to their agendas. Saying it with government may possibly contribute to the death of someone that isn't hurting you. Not condoning or condemning it doesn't appear to kill anyone.

"What you do speaks so loud that I cannot hear what you say." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Currently listening :
Narrow Stairs
By Death Cab for Cutie
Release date: 2008-05-13

Friday, November 14, 2008

Philosoph Eco

"Little boy you're going to hell
You said bad words
" Kenny Goes to Hell - Metallica

"Carlin's Going to Hell."

A few days ago, that's what protesters had on their signs outside of an awards ceremony honoring the late (and oh so fucking great) George Carlin. You have to wonder why one would feel the need to heckle a dead comedian (unless you have a life, in which case, you're probably not reading this), I mean, aren't there more productive places to be playing the "self righteous" game? Not to mention that if there is a "Hell", Carlin died months ago, wouldn't he have already gone? (As if proper grammar is a priority for these types.)

I can't imagine that Carlin believed there was an actual Hell. Nor do I (Hell, Michigan notwithstanding), but I do find the symbolism of these afterlife destinations intriguing (I wonder if there is an after-after-life? Sort of like the after-after-party?), especially in regards to the environment.

Heaven is above and Hell is below yeah? Interesting that raping the earth of coal and oil involves going waaaaaayyyyy down below and it's produced some scary shit. Strip Mining isn't nearly as sexy as it sounds (ask the Navajos about Uranium - not their idea of foreplay, I'm guessing), but we're told that it's a "necessary evil" at this point.

CLEAN ENERGY….ahhhhhhhhhh, deep yoga breath of …AIR? Solar and wind power come from where? Above; the "heavens". Sun grows our greens (legal or otherwise - it doesn't discriminate), and the rain and wind, well, you see what I'm saying here.

Isn't it fascinating that the political party screaming "Drill baby drill" hypocritically stands behind a book that starts off saying that the one they worship created "the heavens and the earth"? These two places were supposedly created before anything with genitals came to be, but the inhabitants conduct their business here like a bunch of meth addicts running a health food store. Some whilst yammering on about biblical symbolism, yet they can't see what I'm musing about here (walk that dogma much?).

I know there are many factions in "small town America" that feel the need to only read one book (look how many trees that saves!), or claim they read it, as most just sheep it "cuz readin's for them elitist types that cain't play football", but the closer you get to a city, the more libraries and book stores appear (they actually get used too).

Leash laws are enforced in these close quartered, reader populations because dogmas must be curbed and kept under control in order for the masses to get along.

They run free in "ril America" though; leaving nothing but shit filled lawns in their wake, and with that scent abound, those folks will probably be the first to purchase bottled air (eh em…water used to be free).

Maybe George left Hell? Wouldn't it be funny if Hell was believing that there is something else besides this?

"Frisbeetarianism is the belief that when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck." George Carlin

Currently listening :
Heaven Up Here
By Echo & the Bunnymen

Monday, November 10, 2008

I’m Not Human, I’m Just Stuck in One, Pt. 3

"Turning into myself
I wanted to bite not destroy
" Banquet - Bloc Party

What are we really?

Incandescent surprises trapped behind fraudulent facades? Some of us.

Shell casings full of sideways, pilfering bullets? Some of us.

I spent hours staring and saw absolutely nothing. Nothing didn't stare back, but it did look right through me.

We are all "hot", but just too cool to know what to do with that.

Being bored with that concept was about four exits back for me.

Nobody listens anymore; we're only quiet when waiting for our turn to spew.

Just a bunch of dicks set on "output" only, every last one of us.

Dying to be heard and screaming to be seen, but earnestly trying to grow an extra set of hands to cover our ears and eyes in unison so nothing creeps in.

Fear of losing yourself into what you hear or see, becoming them. Or fear that you won't.

The separation, the disconnect - it all becomes suffocating. Everyone wants to be understood, but no one wants to understand.

We can't all point in one direction. Someone has to Yin and someone else has to Yang.

Receptive, receptors, receiving.

Currently listening :
Bloc Party
By Bloc Party

Monday, November 3, 2008

Correction Day

(Photo: me on my way to vote)

"I'll tip my hat to the new constitution
Take a bow for the new revolution
Smile and grin at the change all around me
Pick up my guitar and play
Just like yesterday
Then I'll get on my knees and pray
We don't get fooled again
" - Won't Get Fooled Again - The Who

I voted early on Halloween, and you've probably heard me say by now that even though I'm right handed, I voted with my left hand - I'm just that liberal. I'm the only one in my immediate family, as I come from a long line of staunch, racist, Republicans (please note that not all Republicans are racist, but the ones that share my specific DNA definitely are).

This election has really divided people in a way that I've never seen. Creepy. The hate spewed around is unconscionable and just makes me wonder about certain humans in ways that I've never done. Both sides of the "aisle" have done some shitty things making me wish we could do away with the "aisle" altogether.

When Senator McCain was on "Saturday Night Live" and he was booed, I found that in poor taste. When someone hung an effigy of Governor Palin in California, that was just sick.

"Just wanna know what're you gonna do for me, I mean are you gonna liberate us girls from male white corporate oppression? Huh? Don't be shy. Fear of a female planet?" Kool Thing - Sonic Youth

I've seen some horribly sexist bulletins about the Governor as well (from BOTH sides) that I find beyond grievous. Frankly, I don't care to hear your dick's version of politics, is that ever going to be possible? Funny how your penis has no comments on the male candidates (your mouth seems to applaud some stances on issues then, but when a woman appears your oratory hole gets plugged by your own wank - why is that?).

When referring to the Governor of Alaska, I've only heard Republican males say they'd "fuck her", but they never once eek out any admiration on her views (just the view of her). Classy. Not to be outdone, some lefties totally pornify her, again ignoring the issues. (Insert deep sigh, rolling eyes, crooked lips, and a slight head shake here.)

The sexism has been a small beauty mark compared to the cystic acne of hate that I've seen unleashed in the direction of Senator Obama. In person hate, not from-the-tv-edited-out-of-content type of hate. Four different people have said to me that they hated him so much, that they wanted to "fucking KILL him." Wow. I dared not ask why (self preservation of sanity), but I have a hunch.

This type of talk immediately reminded me of Joseph Mazagwu a former Tampa, Florida police officer that was arrested and lost his job for saying to his dry cleaner that someone should kill G.W. Bush, and that he would do it if given the bullets. He wasn't serious, but his dry cleaner turned him in for "treason". If Senator Obama becomes president, will the left become that petty and over the top about Section 18, United States Code, 871 (you have Google - get to clickin')? I've got a feeling we could pay for health care with the fines from that alone!

It's one thing to joke, but the animosity I heard in those tenors was more than disturbing. I don't want to hear that shit about anyone, unless they caused you or your lovies bodily harm, or extreme mental discourse PERSONALLY. If nothing else, I wish there was respect for the office they hold. (Maybe if we respect it, it will become respectable again?)

I know it's difficult to do that when people in office do despicable things, like the mayor of Fort Mill, South Carolina, Danny Funderburk. This guy forwarded a chain letter email claiming that Senator Obama is the Anti-Christ (he's not, I checked If there is an Anti-Christ (which Jesus NEVER mentioned one), according to what I've read, they HAVE to come into power to have the rapture, end of days, etc. It would seem anti-Christian to vote for anyone but Senator Obama if he is the AC, I mean, that's totally running interference. I voted for him just out of pure love for my Christian peoples (can I have the gas out of your car when you ascend to heaven, seriously?). Plus the added bonus of all us Godless Indians getting our land back once these sweet folks fly away with the Messiah did factor in (we're definitely closing the borders after that shit).

Oh that's another one; people are flipping out pissily saying the Senator from Illinois is being looked to as a "Messiah". I guess you just can't get too popular without haters (ask John Lennon, oops ya can't). I wonder if he was white, and named Bruce Stealyourshitler, would this be a problem?

"I've been wonderin' why people livin' in fear off my shade
(Or my hi top fade)
I'm not the one that's runnin' but they got me one the run
Treat me like I have a gun, all I got is genes and chromosomes
Consider me Black to the bone
All I want is peace and love on this planet
(Ain't that how God planned it?)"
Fear of a Black Planet - Public Enemy.

Lots of whitey fear getting very ugly. Senator Obama is running for President of everyone, not "Black President" (uh he's half white), he's not going to steal white money and give it to what the prejudicial assfaces refer to as "lazy people that didn't earn it" (that's putting it far kinder than I've heard). The people most afraid of cheaters ARE cheaters, just because YOU would act like trash if you got into office, doesn't mean someone else will. Some people use their power for good, as hard as that is to conceptualize.

Bigots are just afraid of themselves showing up in others.

Probably the worst thing I've heard out of this entire election season was Governor Palin's remarks implying two Americas: "Ril America" and I guess the fake one that was attacked on a Tuesday morning in 2001.

The first thing I thought of was something my bestie Bonnie, who worked as a graphic artist for Blue Cross/Blue Shield in the World Trade Center, told me. I nearly fainted when she answered her phone at 9am on September 11th, after I saw 2 planes crash into her place of work. She called in sick, but not everyone in her company was that fortunate. Ed Beyea, her wheelchair bound co-worker, was stuck on the 27th floor waiting to be carried to safety. Not wanting to leave his friend behind, another co-worker named Abe Zelmanowitz, stayed with Ed to make sure the Fire and Rescue knew to help when they arrived. They were of the many that perished that day.

My mind was on those two guys when the Alaskan Governor decided to piss on the memory of those we lost in "fake" America. She apparently seems to think "Washington outsiders" are better than those that lost their lives at the Pentagon as well. (Both NYC and DC were home to me at some point, if you don't like them, don't fucking go there).

It's deplorable to use 9/11 as your agenda for fear one minute (or AT ALL), and then insult the people who died that day by claiming they weren't "rilly" Americans.

No matter which way the election goes, I'll be celebrating tomorrow night. I'm proud that our country has come far enough to bring a female and a racial minority to the fore of leadership (maybe next time an Apache Hermaphrodite for Prez ay?). I know some people like the original constitution with the slavery and not letting the chicks vote (the people that changed all that were considered "terrorists" by the way), but I think life is about progression and growth, and sometimes that means CHANGE. Hate prevents mental growth (and hair growth, ask the skinheads); without mental growth, I fail to see why we exist.

Regardless of who wins, the current occupant of the oval office will be out soon. Conspiracy or not, I'll drink to that!

"I'm tired of the old shit, let the new shit begin" Old Shit/New Shit - The Eels

Currently listening :
By David Bowie

Friday, October 31, 2008

Fear Factor

"Fearlessly the idiot faced the crowd, smiling." Fearless - Pink Floyd

When people ask me what my greatest fear is, I almost always reply "My greatest fear is someone else finding out what my greatest fear is."

FEAR is the real "F" word.

It's not a very tasty trait, fearfulness, and I think it's why a lot of people don't like cats as cats are about a 9 on the skittish scale on a relaxed day. I'm fluent in Skittish so I like cats, but I can't stand how small dogs are scared of everything (especially of losing their crotch, you ever notice how they check between their legs every five minutes to make sure no one stole it?); I prefer big dogs.

People LOVE fear. We are so intimate with fear, we crave it. We like to be scared. Some of us get off on it. Some of us do stupid shit just so we can feel even more fear.

Some of us know that FEAR is a tool, and we use it to lord over someone else. Instilling it gives you power and control over someone or some many.

We all can smell fear on someone else, and some of us can't resist the urge to attack the source of the fear, it's our nature. Some of us do rise above it and reach for compassion instead, but it's a meager few.

The fears I've heard discussed during this election season are far scarier than anything Halloween related or horror film worthy. I don't mind if people discuss what they like about who they support, but when the fear and negativity appear, drag city.

It's made some otherwise attractive people very unappealing. Fear is impressionable, but it's ugly. I think if you're fearful, you attract things in your life to be fearful about.

Like having a tracker on my Myspace was out of fear, because I got messed with by some whackos (mostly of the jealous female kind - jealousy springs from FEAR), and having the damn thing got me into all kinds of trouble. The paranoia cost me a friend or two. FEAR attracts some bad Juju, so I removed the tracker and put my space back to public. Whatever happens, I'm confident I can handle it. What I don't know won't bother me.

I've always feared lies and lying, and I'm trying to get over it because I think there are some things you should lie about depending on where you live. If you live in the United States, for instance, you should definitely lie if you are agnostic or an atheist. You're life will just be easier if you do. Even Oprah looks down on "unbelievers", and you can never run for office if you don't claim Christianity (lip service goes a long way when fear is paying for the tickets).

It feels unnatural, like I would imagine a gay person trying to be hetero would feel, but I wish I had stayed in the closet. I'm not outspoken but some of my family hates me for it, and my half brother tried to kill me once a few Christmas's ago. I wonder if Jesus was impressed by his multi-tasking talent of being able to strangle me, bash my head into the wall, and repeatedly scream "Atheist" all at the same time. Somehow I just can't picture the bearded one giving a thumbs up to that way of celebrating his bday (all of my besties are Christians and they don't ever party that way).

Fear is hideous, but it's the devil we know.

I think fear will win, but I'm not afraid to be wrong about that.

Currently listening :
By Pink Floyd

Monday, October 27, 2008

Behind Blue Eyes

"No one bites back as hard on their anger.
None of my pain and woe can show through."
Behind Blue Eyes - The Who

In this life, I've been given a unique perspective because of my racial and cultural background, but sometimes I feel a smidge uneasy with the positions it puts me in and I feel the need to bitch about it, right now.

I'm considered a minority on paper because of my ¼ American Indian blood quantum. Since I clearly look white, most people don't believe me or they simply assume that I'm Caucasian. My sister and father are darker skinned, but I tend to repeat my mom's semi-Aryan look (it's only "semi" since her grandmother was a Russian Jew that looked middle eastern but she married Whitey McWhiteness and blonded the DNA a bit).

Back during the good old genocide days of "Colonial America", being a quarter blood would have given me fewer rights as a human being than a full blooded white person. I would've been considered a terrorist and "less than", regardless of my baby blues.

Nowadays it ensures my enrollment with my tribe, a somewhat free education in the state of Michigan, and I can legally own an eagle feather (that makes up for everything THANKS).

I'm guessing 99% of the people reading this can't name at least ten different American or Canadian Indian tribes off the top of their heads (no Googling and you can't include CHEROKEE or SEMINOLE, respectively - too easy). Americans don't like to think about the first inhabitants of this portion of earth because things didn't go down so hot and hey, if we don't see them, they're not there right? (That was/is the plan.)

I'm not going to whine about the racist laws still on the books or the land leasing issues still fucking over the people that are now being solicited to help with the energy crisis (the land that was strip mined and thought useless is now a great set up for wind-powered energy, go figure), no, those rants would fall on deaf ears in most circles anyways.

Actually, my dilemma is rather simplistic and solvable, but it requires some cooperation from people that part their teeth and shove words in my direction.

Neighbors, family, and friends say horribly racist shit to me all of the time and if you retort in any other fashion aside from agreement, YOU are shot down (or worse) as "overly sensitive". YOU are the bad one for not letting them be ass holes.

Most of the time now, I just shake my head silently in disgust as I cannot change these people and I'm not going to attempt such a feat - it's futile. I shan't cross them out of my life (I've tried that, it's not pretty), but I can't say they get 100% of my respect either (and they will never see me naked fo sho). I know they would never say such things in front of the person or target they're verbally shitting on, but that sort of makes me even more pissy, because they think it's ok to say in front of me (um… it's not).

I've even had someone say "Well you look mostly white, so what does it matter?"

How…? Wha….? So I guess if looked like Irene Bedard* that would spare me having to listen to your racist rhetoric? (If I looked like Halle Berry I know it would.)

Just because I look white, DO NOT ASSUME I'M A FUCKING RACIST LIKE YOU MIGHT BE!!!! Do NOT assume that I am of the same religious beliefs (or non-beliefs) that you are, and do NOT assume I vote a certain way. KEEP YOUR NEGATIVE SHIT TO YOURSELF!

I don't care if you're just "joking". Some people think that if they laugh hard enough after they unleash their racial slurs, that it's just half a stab, nothing to get defensive over (maybe it sounds funnier when you have a white hood over your ears, but since I don't…kindly fuck off).

Powerless. Hate wins. All I can do is raise my eyebrows and take note.

Then I wonder what they say about me when I'm not around.

*I'm not giving it to you. Google her.

Currently listening :
Smoke Signals: Music From The Miramax Motion Picture
By B. C. Smith
Release date: 1998-06-23

Friday, October 24, 2008

Purity of a Moment

Feeling it 8 feet high with a Telecaster in hand. *

The rarity of kissing someone new whilst completely sober at the time.

Having long hair solely for whipping around your face when driving 70mph screaming the chorus to "Spit It Out".

The breeze that bumps across a thousand heads as "House of Cards" is playing live in your presence for the first time at an outdoor venue. The air trickles from Radiohead to the potheads to your left, and you inhale this collective warm smile that doesn't require teeth, just no resistance.

Cinnamon whenever, wherever.

*Eastern Conference Champions

Currently listening :
By Eastern Conference Champions
Release date: 2007-07-17

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Arm’s Length

"If I'm to fall, would you be there to applaud?" I'm Outta Time - Oasis

I just finished watching the film "Boy A", a British film based on the 2004 book of the same name. The story is set in Manchester, England so I thought it only fitting to quote one of the more recent songs to emerge from the city that gave us The Stone Roses, Joy Division, New Order, and The Chameleons UK.

I'm pretty sure the song might be about falling in love, but that's not what I thought of upon first listen. Aside from the fact that it rips off "Wish You Were Here", my favorite Pink Floyd tune (it wouldn't be Oasis if they didn't "borrow" from someone else now would it?), I immediately thought of someone that I used to think was my friend that would salivate at the thought of my "falling"/failing. I was too stupid and naïve to see it at first, but it sunk in eventually. You couldn't get away from this person unless it was their choice (or they thought it was), and even when you thought you were done, you weren't (insert bad Pacino impression, but with conviction, here).

I finally severed things and had a few good years to myself (don't think I got out without scars either), but like the idiot that I am, I forgave and let the person back "in" somewhat when they contacted me again. Stuuuuupid. A person shows you who they are when you first meet them, if you let them jerk you around, it's your own fault.

Forgiveness is tricky isn't it?

The movie "Boy A" is about this guy is in his early 20's and just out of prison for a crime he committed as a 12 year old. He seems like a nice guy that was properly rehabilitated, and the director introduces you to him in more or less the same view his new environment gets of him. From 12 to 23, there is a big difference, and I do believe you can change, but I think around 15, there are certain things about certain people that will never change. This guy did reform, and they show you in flashbacks from whence he came, but it's the two plot lines of un-forgiveness that shape the ending. The best of intentions always come at a price, it seems.

I stupidly forgive, more often than I should. You just want peace, but these emotional vampires want PIECES. You want so badly to remember the awesome times, because they were some of the best moments of your existence, but the sting you get in the back of your knee whilst unsuspectingly reminiscing, is more painful each time because you should've known it was coming. You warned yourself, and you didn't listen.

This person was a witness to my history, but the pain of being estranged is a pinch compared to the stab that closeness inevitably brings.


Sometimes, I think I'm allergic to people. They make my soul itch and my eyes tear up.


Currently listening :
Dig Out Your Soul
By Oasis
Release date: 2008-10-07

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Just Because...

Friday, September 26, 2008

Miss Take, Miss Steak, Miss Stake

"The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one." Elbert Hubbard

I'm sure by now that if you haven't been barraged by sayings about "learning from your mistakes", then you're either one of my amphibious readers (tree frogs totally dig my stuff) or you're tapping in from another dimension never having had the overrated experience of human contact.

We humans are a bunch of fucking freaks. Most of us don't get that you can't go through life without breaking something, or we do on some level, but somehow think we can supersede this small detail.

Our wiring is so contradictory sometimes isn't it? You're brought up to avoid pain (which is unavoidable). Most mental pain comes from mistakes, so mistakes are bad no? No, we learn from them, so we're told, or do we?

And then there are the guru-new-agey-lovey-dovey-outside-the fru fru box-thinkers going on about how there are no mistakes or "accidents", as it were. Oh everything has a purpose, including reality TV shows and the recent fight you had with some smug ass hole about smug ass holes.

Admittedly, sometimes I subscribe to this way of thinking, but other times my cynicism (or pms take your pick) takes over and I just want to start randomly stabbing people, particularly the ones that say that there are no mistakes. I wonder how they would feel about those types of statements when some petite, knife-wielding pissfest has decided those words would be their final ones. Could they find the purpose in such a scenario?

"To avoid criticism do nothing, say nothing, be nothing." Elbert Hubbard

I guess we only know a mistake by its critique, whether it be from another being (my cats ride my ass about everything) or ourselves.

If we think we are infallible does it make us so? I have a hard time believing myself when I say such things, so it's probably down to conviction (or delusion).

I'm not good at sitting still and doing nothing, and we all know I'm not keen on keeping my mouth shut. No, I much prefer the mistakes over nonexistence.

For now, I mean, it's not like I have anything better to do.

Elbert Hubbard is not a blood relative of Hubbard of Scientology fame. He was an American author that died on the Lusitania in 1915.

Currently listening :
The Stand Ins
By Okkervil River
Release date: 2008-09-09

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Accent Á Goo (Pt. Two)

Affecting an accent, yeah it pisses me off, but not in every instance.

If one is a 'Mo (short for homosexual), one may acquire the gay accent to whatever degree they see fit, and I'll tell you why.

I know all gay men weren't raised by people that speak like Ru Paul (can I get a snap up in here?). I know that when little gay boys were first venturing into the sandbox, they weren't rolling their eyes going "Hooker hand me that red shovel! You trannies build it, but girlfriend's got the interiors!" No, it didn't happen that way, but most of our sweet, gay friends did not have an easy time of it coming up, and I think they had to suppress their real selves for the most part. The gay accent may be who they truly are, so I leave it to their discretion as for its usage.

When I was in 4th grade (8 yrs old), my friend Tom and I worked in the library together at lunch recess. He came to school as a woman for Halloween that year (I was a gorilla and won the costume contest, eh em, home sewn bitches!) and I remember people picking on him and calling him all kinds of things. I didn't really know what "gay" was in suburban Michigan back then, but I adored Tom and punched a few faces so that it never happened again. He did have the gay accent then, but I don't think he even knew. I haven't a clue what became of him, but he was my first gay, and I'll never forget him.

It's such a shame that these harmless aspects of people were so maliciously sat on when we were kids. Parents didn't give a shit if their sons tortured animals or other kids, so long as they weren't wearing yellow pumps while they did it (dark blue may have been allowed, I'm having my people look into it).

I wonder how it is growing up in Australia though, because to me, everyone has the gay accent there. Did they invent it? I watched the Aussie version of Project Runway, and it is clear by looks who is queen or king, but not by accent. They take that sibilant "S" to a whole new level down under. Even David Sedaris would sound like a het-het there!

I love the gay accent. Lovey love. Other accents I dig are the New Mexico accent (yep they have one) and northern British ones, like from Manchester and Liverpool. I like Scottish and Irish the best of all, as I can barely decipher what the hell they're saying half the time.

I was once in a band with this guy from Dublin. We were pretty trashed one night and he was going on about the boards in back of his apartment complex. The rest of us just stared at him with our eyebrows meeting our hairlines. Finally, I figured out he was talking about "birds" not "boards", but it took two drunken UN translators, a soap commercial, and a deck of tarot cards to help crack the code.

I leave you with this old clip "How To Speak Irish" - it's kind of lame but I dug it as a kid. I hope it doesn't offend my new found Irish friends as I want to have torrid affairs with you all (at the same time - oh yeah).

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Accent Á Goo

"It won't take you long to learn the new smile.
You'll have to adapt or you'll be out of style.
It's always the same. You're jumping someone else's train."

Jumping Someone Else's Train - The Cure

I was perusing the "interweb", as I do, and ran across someone saying something to the effect of "I try to be more than a collage of the people around me". This really tugged at my peepers as the last few weeks I've been contemplating writing a piece about overly absorbent people. The type of folks (yeah I said "folks"; I'm originally from Michigan so kindly fuck off) that just are an amalgam of all that they inhale from other people's personalities. We used to call them "posers" when I was coming up, but I've no clue what label these self deluded frauds unknowingly cower under now.

These human barnacles are now more evident than ever with the advent of Youtube, Myspace, etc. Youtube in particular, where you'll see 6,000 different versions (or more) of people filming their friends watching "Two Girls One Cup" (which is a COPY of the movie trailer for "Hungry Bitches" - ah porn accuracy brought to you by Wikipedia), as if the first couple hundred weren't unique enough.

I've seen my own words (I don't OWN the words, but I put in an application for joint custody last week) from my blogging efforts painted elsewhere, assigning credit to authors who really only deserve to be violently stabbed in the balls. Too gender specific? The pilfering fuckwads do claim "MALE" status. Were they females, I'd build them two sacks myself, and then brandish something sharp (but lightweight like an industrial sewing needle) for unleashing some serious psycho voodoo pinning.

There are such a wide variety of these coat-tail dwellers that I think a series of blogs is how I will tackle the subject, ridiculous as it may be. Fuck it. I'm just killing time till time kills me, right?

At this point, I'd like to have a go at those who acquire faux English accents. If you're an American and have only been dating a teabag a week, and start throwing around "trainers" instead of "sneakers", um…you suck ass. Yeah, I've witnessed such a thing. This person lived in the south, but never said "Y'all". They called NYC home for a few years, but Brooklyn did not seize their tongue. Give them one week with a Londoner, and they slip in "trainers" like they've been saying it that way for years. They even seem shocked that you don't know what they're talking about. Thinking back on this, I'm just flabbergasted that I've never done time in prison for assault. Really.

You notice it's the English accent that these flimsy Americans (do Canadians do it too?) are always copping? I've known plenty of people that spent years in Scotland, Ireland, and Australia, and they've never affected those accents. Though, I'm certain that if Madonna had married Billy Connolly, she would've given it the old college try. I grew up in the same area (different ERA - I'm younger) that Madonna did, and homegirl couldn't scare up a proper New York accent for a film role in the '80's, so I can't imagine why she's trying to pirate one from the UK now. She's fuckin' Madonna, how is that not good enough for her? Why does she have to be English now? Does it magically transform you into some pure, clean, intelligencia that didn't shag (oh now I'm doing it) their way to the top?

Do these people know they're doing it? Do the English cringe as much as we do when they hear it?

I don't mind my accent; in fact, I actually enjoy the fact that it annoys people sometimes. It's not as thick as most mid-westerners, but it's quite evident that I hail from a place that heavily consumes various meat products (though I'm phasing them out, regretfully). My accent is the one used by newscasters, as it apparently is the most coherent voice the U.S. can choke out. Although, with my penchant for cursing, one would never connect my dialect with anything professional that wasn't accompanied with a parental advisory of some sort.

I always tend to be the "peer" character in the phrase "peer pressure", so it's difficult for me to cut these osmotic kleptos some slack. I'm just not a follower.

Unless, of course, you tell me to photograph myself bathing in milk, then its lemming time fo sho.

Currently listening :
By Sonic Youth
Release date: 1990-06-15

Yeah Yes Yep

I found the next song that I want on in the background (or foreground, I'm not picky) the next time I knock boots (if there ever is a next time, yeesh).

Autolux's "Turnstile Blues".

I first heard it last week when I started to watch "The Air I Breathe", a film that has exquisite cinematography in places, but I feel overall that it tried too hard, if that makes any sense.

There is some quote at the beginning that I've already forgotten, and then "Turnstile Blues" kicks in with almost machine-like precision, laying down the groundwork for HELLZ YEAH (sad when the score outshines the flick, but I'll take what I can get). Oh the protruding cartilage on the sides of my head got all tingly and hopeful. They were not disappointed as the song delivered with a nice laid back approach. The band didn't reach too far, but they caught the edge with finesse and ease down to the last note.

Autolux is from Los Angeles, and I had never heard of them. They have a sort of Apples in Stereo meets My Bloody Valentine sound, so I'm shocked at myself for not having discovered them outside of a soundtrack setting previous to now. I'll beat myself mercilessly with a bag of spiders when I'm done here, I swear.

"Turnstile Blues" is not a pop song. I adore pop songs (go look at my Myspace playlist - oops I went private, ok I'll put a playlist at the bottom of my blog), but I like a good, unconventional wad of noise every now and again. This particular piece sounds kind of like the band Pinback reworked the song "Cannonball" by The Breeders whilst double dosing on LSD.

I don't love, but I likes a lot.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Milk Dud

Ok, I'm up for anything most days, and today I read this blog, which led me to this blog . So here is my contribution to the "bath of milk" photo chain. I used an organic carton of milk to scrub my pits in the tub. Glamorous and, yeah. I threw in the second choice too, as you can't have a milk bath without a cat slinking around. I physically censored this by strategically placing myself in front of Scoob's naked body. My cat is a nudist, a freethinker, and he's a double major in mathematics and architecture. His favorite band is Radiohead and he's writing his thesis on the binary codes found within their songs. He smells good too.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Like Kissing Girls? Yer Goin’ to HELL!!

Oh don't you just love the folks that get to decide what merits an all expense paid eternity in a warmer climate?

This time the residents of that throne are cozying up in Blacklick (Mudflap and Buttfuck already had their turn), Ohio.

Personally, I'm not a fan of Katy Perry, I think she's creepy, but her voice is all right. The fact that she pisses off people like this, however, does give me some degree of delight, I must say.

I'm not a kisser of chicks and I can't see that in my future (I just don't drink THAT much), but last week I was at a very "meow" oriented event in which I saw what I thought was a guy that looked like Kurt Cobain (pre Courtney) and checked him out a bit. He was a SHE though, so I retracted my "check", as it were (I swear I saw an Adam's apple), but SHE was taken anyways heheheheh. I'm not embarrassed or grossed out, a bit sad maybe? (She'd have been a hot guy, but in my world, that entails some key ingredients of the phallic nature.)

I honestly don't think Katy Perry kisses women; I think she knew she had a hit and ran with it. She's really not cool enough to go to Hell, in my overused opinion, but then, I don't know her. She might play guitar like Hendrix or make a mean quiche, who knows? Regardless, I fail to see where consensually kissing someone of the same sex hurts anyone else (no matter where the kiss lands). It just seems like there are so many more justifiable things going on that would endorse such a judgmental campaign.

I guess "girl on girl" action is far more dangerous than someone with no health insurance that has cancer though. Where are the billboards for this type of injustice?

The pastor of the 'mo hating church claims that the sign was a "loving warning". Wonder what qualifies as a STERN warning then. Yeesh.

If there is a Hell, then according to these types, I've booked my reservation ages ago, but I guess that all depends on your take on things.

Can you have pre-marital sex if you never actually plan to marry? Is it not just "sex" then, since marriage was never part of the agenda? It's not a commandment (none of them mention the Rainbow Coalition either). Does it count if you didn't orgasm? Technically you don't "get off" (enjoying the sin is far more sinful is it not?), but I suppose faking one is lying, unless it's not with your neighbor maybe?

Can't I just repent everything on my deathbed like rapists and murderers do to avoid a life of Florida-like summers sans the a/c? (If I thought that would work, I'd do it now to get the HELL out of Florida!)

I actually don't believe in Hells of any kind (except the "living Hell" experienced when you dig someone that you can't be with, for whatever reason, or when you're stuck in an elevator whilst having to piss really bad with someone stinky that is jingling change in their pocket and whistling a Toby Keith song), and I don't have a problem with people that do (some are close friends of mine), but maybe it's better to keep the contents of who you think is on Satan's guest list to yourself. You know, that whole "judge not lest ye be judged" thing?


If life is what you make it, then hey, maybe death is too.

Currently listening :
Oh My Gawd!!!...The Flaming Lips
By The Flaming Lips
Release date: 1993-07-01

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Thylvester Morrithon

I just read a piece about doors (thanks Stevie Ray), and it took me back to a time when I used to imbibe in psychedelics (yes I took enough hits to be considered clinically insane, do with that what you will).

Aldous Huxley is the author of the quote I used in my headline on my Myspace profile. He wrote "The Doors of Perception", which is in fact, where the band "The Doors" got their moniker.

My favorite thing to do in my late teens and early 20's was trip and listen to music, and I recall on one trip listening to the song "The End" by "The Doors" and laughing to the point of possibly needing medical attention.

I imagined Sylvester the cat singing it all donned in leather pants, shirtless with love beads, and that cute little speech impediment.

"Thith ith the end. Beautiful friend."

"Ride the thnake, ride the thnake
To the lake, the ancient lake, baby"

The clincher was near the actual END of "The End" when he does that spiel about the parents, and I think Morrison was arrested whilst saying this onstage in Miami once (and exposing himself), but imagining Sylvester the cat doing it nearly killed me.

"FaTHer, yeth thon, I want to kill you
MoTHer...I want to...fuck you!"

Currently listening :
The Best of the Doors
By The Doors
Release date: 2006-08-08

Monday, September 1, 2008

Thinking Hurts, So Don’t Do It

"I'm not like them, but I can pretend.
The sun is gone, but I have a light.
The day is done. I'm having fun.
I think I'm dumb or maybe just happy." Dumb - Nirvana

The pursuit of knowledge may be the biggest sham, or just the only way we can pass the time these days.


How much do we need to know? Does it really get you anywhere?

We will never KNOW where we came from or what happens when we die, so I never ponder such ridiculousness.

In the biblical sense, the apple was knowledge, so one bite for brains brought shame and deportation according to that book. I'm not a fan, but wonder sometimes if we'd be happier being stupid. You know, the whole "ignorance is bliss" thing?

I think I would've been happier NOT knowing some of the things I became aware of, and I think NOT knowing may also have prevented me from doing some less than noble things.

There is such a broad spectrum of knowledge, it's nearly impossible to absorb it all and count yourself brilliant in every way; I've never met anyone that was all encompassing in this area, anyways.

I don't hang with tards, but I don't expect that any of my besties are Rhodes scholars either. I'm certainly not of that sensibility, but I think street smarts and just overall life experience count for something. I used to be a bit of a snob about brains, as I do find them so very attractive, but have loosened my snippy grip in the area that concludes who is in this category in the last few years.

Clearly, I could never sleep with someone that can't spell "the" (oh yeah, I once hung out with someone who got a love poem with "the" misspelled repeatedly in it from a real sweetheart - he got the boot, but at least he was consistent), but then if I'm really drunk, I'm not about to sit someone down for some aptitude testing now am I?

The last time I was really attracted to someone though, we had a brief discussion about Sylvia Plath's PMS on a dance floor as foreplay. Does this make me an elitist?

"I'm stupid, you're smarter
I'm stupid, thinking there's a way
this could turn out right" I'm Stupid - Prime STH

I've yet to meet a nuclear physicist on a dance floor, or anywhere else for that matter. Are really smart people any fun? Or is it all "binary" with them? (Yeah Paul, that's for you. Call me you fuckhead!)

You don't have to be grey matter enhanced to be creative, but the creative types that I hang with are. Possibly not all book smart, but most of them are emotionally savvy, way more than I could ever be.

Maybe I can learn. Maybe that area of knowledge is more important than pronouncing "nuclear" correctly (mispronouncing it makes me cringe, but won't stop you from being president of the U.S., obviously).

Maybe knowing too much of one area throws the other off balance.

Maybe what we perceive as dumb IS actually happy? Does just having the ability to pose that question prevent one from it?

Currently listening :
Stupid Girl
By Garbage
Release date: 1999-01-12

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Turn A Kit 8/24/08

"One time a thing occurred to me.
What's real, and what's for sale?
Blew a kiss and tried to take it home." Vasoline – Stone Temple Pilots

I rarely change my mind about a band, but Stone Temple Pilots are (was?) a band I completely misjudged upon first listen. I just wrote them off as a secondary spewing in a long line of Pearl Jam spinoffs, but I knew someone that was opening for them and caught them live about five thousand years ago (feels like). Total 180. They didn't just change my mind, they sanded it down, refurbished it, and gave it a new coat of varnish (they used a nice matte teak color – it just goes with everything now!).

The reunion tour had me salivating since I first got word, but I figured I would do what I did for Radiohead and swoop in for some last minute tickets at "desperate to at least break even" prices offered up by those whose scalping abilities are not up to snuff. I had been eyeballing my usual sources, but nothing stood out till the day of the actual show.

I got a line on really great orchestra seats for $30 each ($65 originally) that I was nibbling on but the person I wanted to go with couldn't go and the option was only for a pair.

I had been up all night dancing and the usual host of volunteer work that I do for underprivileged, half faced, diseased people that get raped and pillaged on top of the land mines that they built their huts on (what can I say? I'm a giver), but my weary, tired ass was going to find a way to see the DeLeo brothers pay the piper. (They clearly got back together for cash. I wonder what the going rate is for enduring the behavior of heroin soaked, loose cannons these days – oh yeah, $65 a head.)

My fogged brain then ran across an ad claiming to have awesome tickets, but that a friend backed out and whoever sent the most innovative email would be invited along for the fun.

You know my crazy, adventurous ass couldn't resist such a morsel this tasty, so I replied to it for a laugh. I was just messing around and even offered cash for the ticket if they couldn't find anyone else. I didn't expect to hear back at all, and thought the entire thing was just a joke anyways.

Well, I did hear back, and it had been sort of a joke, but there really was a ticket and we exchanged Myspaces and whatnot and I was invited along! Yep, I was going to meet up with total strangers and go to a concert with them in the pouring fucking rain. Weird, but I like to mix it up.

Driving there they sent a text informing me that we had PIT tickets – AWESOME! We met up to tailgate with drinks and hit it off in the rain and mud. We're all originally from Michigan, so I felt right at home, and two of them are writers so that was groovy too.

Our foursome entered the Ford Amphitheatre to the sounds of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, the second opening band. I think I was one of 3 people that actually liked 'em. They're so influenced by the Jesus and Mary Chain (whom I love STILL) and they poached their drummer, Leah Shapiro, from the Raveonettes. She was amazing.

The PIT is general admission in front of the stage, and the guys appointed me "Head Weasel", a job that entails conning our way to the stage, or at least as close as possible. Being petite and forceful qualifies me for such a position as I can slip in between people virtually unnoticed. Plus in a crowd of mostly inebriated males whilst wearing a low cut shirt, a smile goes a long way.

We were nearly front and center within minutes, but so were some other people that somehow lacked the wherewithal to apply anti-perspirant. I barely clear 5'2, which puts my nose about pit level to most men, so in a sweaty mass of this size, I totally had my PEW face on. Lots of stinky pits in the PIT.

After Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (that name is too fucking long, makes me think of when I used to smoke Benson and Hedges DELUXE Ultra Lights –that's when I knew I had to quit buying smokes, as just asking for that brand took up minutes that I'll never get back) left the stage, I figured I had about 20-25 minutes to get drinks and weasel my way back to the guys. I was wrong. I actually had about an hour and a half, unbeknownst to me or any other ticket holders.

The PIT started to get nasty. People had to pee, but didn't want to miss the first song. Fights were starting to break out, and I got clocked in the head by someone's poor attempt to throw a drink at the stage. As if my hair wasn't gross enough from the humidity, now it had the added ingredients of a cocktail and possibly someone's spit. I looked like a Hasidic Jewish guy, my hair was so curly, but my main concern was that an hour had gone by and STP were nowhere in sight.

I joked about throwing a tourniquet on stage to draw Weiland out in the event that he couldn't find a vein, and that was what was keeping him from wowing us, but humor was lost on this pissy crowd (understandably).

At about 10:15 it was announced that due to "inclement weather", STP was stuck in Ft. Lauderdale and the show was OFF.

Funny how their tour bus, their equipment, and their opening acts made it, but they didn't? The "weather" was north of us, and Ft. Lauderdale is south, WTF? I found out today that the venue knew at 9:15 what was up and didn't tell us for an hour, during which time they kept selling more bevies, but we got nothing. Well some got t-shirts at $50 a pop; such a wimpy consolation when you'd prefer to have gone temporarily deaf to a live performance of "Interstate Love Song".

There is no news of rescheduling as of yet, and with my luck, the band will break up again the day of any such occurrence. But hey, I have a free PIT ticket, a semi –interesting story to tell, and some new friends out of the deal. =)

Currently listening :
By Stone Temple Pilots
Release date: 1994-06-07

Babe Truth, All You Can Eat 8/20/08

"The truth will set you free. But first, it will piss you off." - Gloria Steinem

Ahhhhh TRUTH. My star sign is Sagittarius, which has the symbol of this half horse/half hippy dude that is shooting a bow and arrow. The arrow is supposively the truth, but I've happily shot some lies around – I'm honest enough to admit. Mostly, though, I've put truth in overdrive; meaning I tell it when it isn't always necessary. I crave it when it's beyond my grasp, and I detest it after its departure from my tongue, when the fallout arrives.

Telling the truth has cost me, but hearing it is symphonic relief, even if it's horrific at first.

I'm suffocating in truth today. There's so much of it that's been piled on me, I don't know what to do with it, and it really doesn't go with my outfit AT ALL.

I keep looking away at anything else, including other people's truths, but it's constantly lurking out in the peripheral slant of what my brother-in-law calls my "Anglo-wagon-burner-eyes" (that would be his attempt at Carlos Mencia-ing my American Indian heritage, and yes I see the humor in it – besides he's bald so I can't scalp him now can I?).

I thought about stuffing the truth in my closet, but even walk-in size couldn't contain it.

I tried body slamming it away from me, at least into another room, but it wouldn't budge. It just hangs there attached to my furthest-to-the-right eyelash of my way-too-tired-to-be-awake right eye; persistently clinging in the kind of deafening silence that so harshly makes its presence known after an epic door slam.

I shrugged my shoulders, ordered some Chinese food, and sat down to eat with TRUTH. We didn't say much (truth is very laid back once you get to know it – maybe mixin' with the moocah? Shhhhhh), we just stared at each other as if we both knew that little would change once words entered the scenario.

At one point, TRUTH pretended to choke on one of those free crab/cream cheese wonton thingies, just to see what I would do in order to save it. But very shoddy acting skills prevailed, and I just wasn't in the mood to pander to its wry attempt at testing me.

I'll probably sleep with the TRUTH later, as it's bound to screw me one way or the other. I wonder if it will be like HOPE and never call again afterwards.

"Believe nothing just because a so-called wise person said it. Believe nothing just because a belief is generally held. Believe nothing just because it is said in ancient books. Believe nothing just because it is said to be of divine origin. Believe nothing just because someone else believes it. Believe only what you yourself test and judge to be true." – Buddha

This entire week has been like some accidental anthropological dig. With different friends, different TRUTHS have arisen, and I've come to now believe that 99% of what we perceive to be true for us probably isn't (I hold the internet partially responsible for this).

I'm feeling Socrates with his "All I know is that I know nothing" spiel, which is something I lamely tried to make a song when I was like 19 or something. Heh.

Anyways, for a while I've had something going on that I thought was one way and had nothing to do with anyone else. Another friend had something going on that they thought was solely in their domain, and we had discussed them separately until I stumbled onto a connection to our situations. I then realized that both events were the complete opposite of what we thought, leaving me feeling extremely uncomfortable, but my friend at least may benefit from the discovery, so that makes it a little better, I guess.

Several other occasions come to mind where misrepresentation occurred with such ease, it is a wonder how any of us function at all.

Maybe there is no truth; it's just an ideal that keeps us chasing our tails.

I think there is something to be said for the thick-skinned and superficial that prop themselves up so cozily with denial.

You wanna pour me some of that?

"And we should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. And we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh." - Friedrich Nietzsche

Currently listening :
Don’t Believe the Truth
By Oasis
Release date: 2005-05-31