03.27.07
pat joyce: ‘yoke man
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0yTeuS75ygM]
03.22.07
idolatry
in a country where it seems that more people cast votes for a tv show than for a “real” election, i urge all of you patriots to make your vote count . . .
sanjaya malakar for american idol! it’s a farce. and it’s great. i have definitely jumped on the sanjaya bandwagon. i follow the king of all media, howard stern in this particular delicate matter of taste and fine culture.
sanjaya makes little girls cry. that’s how beautiful his voice is . . . ha ha ha.
i never have really watched that show before. i don’t really want to name it by name for the same reasons i don’t want to watch it. i believe it’s absolutely horrific. i think that if i was sitting in a cafe in another country it would push me in a direction that may or may not include conspiring to commit abominable acts (only less than or equal to the level of abomination already reached by this show and countless other shows of similar abombitude) against these united states of america.
but that’s precisely the point
that’s why you should vote for sanjaya malakar. god bless america! and all of its idols!
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WuAaJtlIQ-U]
03.21.07
sad but true
according to the associated press:
“A 20-year-old man received probation after he was convicted of having sexual contact with a dead deer. The sentence also requires Bryan James Hathaway (aka Jonathan Dzurino) to be evaluated as a sex offender and treated at the Institute for Psychological and Sexual Health in Pittsburgh, PA. . . . He was found guilty in April 2005 of felony mistreatment of an animal after he killed a horse with the intention of having sex with it. He was sentenced to 18 months in jail and two years of extended supervision on that charge as well as six years of probation for taking and driving a vehicle without the owner’s consent.” (full article)
i believe i have located a picture of this man . . . 
03.17.07
so green
a friend of mine (of non-irish [ specifically, armenian] decent) once exclaimed, of today’s holy day, “kick the mick; fuck st. pats!” while i certainly don’t endorse or wish for such ethno-specific violence, i also can’t say that i’m a huge fan of the green holiday. ok. we get it. we’ll kiss you; you’re irish, today. . . but what exactly is it a celebration of? don’t get me wrong. i love a celebration. a celebration should be just that, though. it shouldn’t be as planned and thought out as a parade or a ball dropping down the side of a building is . . .
it should be something as spontaneous as a damn beautiful day in mid march where the temperature goes over seventy . . .
or it should celebrate the barrage of ice that follow.
i don’t really buy into the whole let’s drink green beer and eat green bagels to celebrate the death of some dude named pat (never actually canonized by a pope) who wasn’t even irish. [similar to the rip-off holiday of christopher columbus, a man of dubious eye-tie origins, but that's a long one for another day]
st patrick was this english guy who went over to the emerald isle with a magic golden potato, or something like that, which
a) scared away all the snakes [that never existed on the island anyway, but enough alcohol after so many years can induce hallucinatory states,]
b) saved the irish people by converting them into cath-o-licks,
c) told st patrick (when st patrick shoved it in his ear) how to invent the leprechaun: legend says it has something to do with pouring four shots of whiskey over a four leafed clover
so i guess st pat wasn’t that bad of a guy. ire land is safe for a few more thousand year, or at least until there is a run on ends of the rainbows isle wide. god bless. happy st pats.
03.12.07
strangers wasted – “another song about a girl”
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nMmkwUIU5D4]
03.11.07
how far down do you wanna go?
daylight wasting time has come.
it’s a beautiful time of year.
does anybody else out there know who roger clyne is?
arguably the finest lyricist of our time (dylan included,) mr clyne writes seriously slammin’ jams about topics such as banditoing, going to mexico, sitting in a bar (all over the world,) going to mexico, arizona, love, brotherhood, and all things human. think of him as the boss for people in mountain time (sometimes pacific.)
check it out:
03.06.07
shuffle theory
god speaks to me through my ipod.
if there is a question about what i should do next, when i face some massive moral dilemma, i plug those earbuds in (i actually don’t have earbuds anymore, mine broke, but i do have nifty fold away sony headphones!) and i go to the main menu and i select shuffle songs. more often than not, this works. usually within three to five songs, often through a combination of a few, i am divinely informed. try it yourself.
does this negate free will?
well, you have put the songs on your ipod that you enjoy listening to, even entertaining (and perhaps informative) podcasts (like the rich and manton show, of course.) so, implied by that assumption is that you have indirectly selected what you are listening to. you have predetermined that you will listen to one out of however many songs you have on your listening device.
randomness: the ipod just helps it along, it’s as if a magic 8 ball was completely personalized. but does god speak through randomness? is anything really random at all, really?
right now i don’t really know where to go with this post. i sort of feel like doing something more productive with my life, but i sort of feel like probing this philosophical mush to see what i can squeeze out of it. let’s go to the ipod:
rufus wainwright – “california,”
u2 – “a man and a woman,”
stereophonics – “lying in the sun” (as the sun coming through the window creeps along the wall, hitting the stuff on the dresser, the paper, the stuff on my desk, and in a moment or two the back of my head and the computer,)
queens of the stone age – “misquito song,”
our lady peace – “potato girl,” and finally
the mars volta – “cassandra gemini i.”
so there it is. whatever that means. i’d gather that anti-intellectualism edges out the “stay here and write” party this time, with the final song summing up an overall disorganized feeling that (just like listening to a mars volta cd for the first time) i hope has left you confused and slightly annoyed.
03.03.07
on sidewalks and parking lot ice caps
it’s a hell of a day for sailing
(for my seven centimeter self)
let me wade in this pool
born of a sunken asphalt slab of sidewalk
[a tidepool of the thaw]
it’s a hell of a day
when the breeze picks up,
ride this ripple from coast to coast
and from these concrete cliffs of the south shore
looking down:
from as far as i could see
to as far as i may imagine:
rushing, tumbling
(a one way ticket for
misplaced boulders and
glaciers from the hood of a car)
it’s a hell of a day
and i have no resolute notion
(of an ocean absolute)
yet the scents on the breeze
suggest
(if i jump
surrender to the stream {of ten by ten suns reflected
one in each crest:
a unique light to follow} more likely than not
i’ll wash up
tattered sail upon tar
on shores [across this
translucent rope]
awake – opposite these concrete cliffs
03.01.07
frat night at the dizzy lizard and other preposterous tales
have you met my friend, brad tenenbaum? he’s ranked number 216 in the world.
if there was ever a stereotype about
a) students at certain instituitions of higher (dubiously so) education on that island that lacks girth,
b) frat guys, and
c) sororstitutes
said generalizations were systematically and rigorously proved to be true. minutes before these observations on the decline of western civ, steered by the already mentioned subpopulations a, b, and c, our reveling and twenty-one turning party was approximately one mile, two and one half generations, and exactly three point seven light years away at a dive on a tuesday night, where the bud flows from cans and a round of car bombs exhausts the supply of jameson’s. quite an intro to a quite a night. techno-remixes give way to sorority chants give way to lettered sweatshirted bobble heads discussing that comm quiz that was “really hard,” and that same god forsaken haircut at varying heights across the bar. it’s the place of a million and one facebook/kodak moments. then there’s my friend, brad, #216 in the world.
