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