rice cakes and coffee
ITEM. My favorite five albums this year are by a semi-feminist dancehall singer, a former member of Menudo, a country singer who was mostly raised by her sister after their father shot their mother in front of them, a rapper from Chicago (but not the rapper from Chicago that everyone else is all salivating over, don't get me wrong, Kanye's okay and all), and a couple from San Francisco by way of Tijuana and Havana.
ITEM. My children can sing five different crunk songs, to one degree or another.
ITEM. I get incredibly happy geeking out about fantasy sports. Until last year, I didn't get it and made fun of people for doing stuff like that. But my hoops team is winning the league thanks to its over-reliance on Trail Blazers, Pistons, and Bucks, and my English Premiership team is in the top 10 along with my brother's team (he knows NOTHING about English football) and my kids' team, which is kicking both our arses. And I have TWO different baseball teams, the draft for the ILX one being tomorrow, it's all I can do not to spend work time tweaking. Oh Lord help a poor sinner.
ITEM. Here is my lineup for one of my baseball teams: C Joe Mauer 1B Derrek Lee 2B Michael Young/Mark Loretta SS Edgar Renteria 3B Miguel Cabrera/Bill Mueller LF Albert Pujols CF Juan Pierre RF Sammy Sosa UTIL Ken Griffey/Scott Podsednik/Geoff Jenkins, starting pitchers are Josh Beckett Sidney Ponson Barry Zito Dontrelle Willis Johan Santana, relief pitchers are Matt Mantei Jorge Julio Brian Donnelly. I know you don't care but still, it's helping me get back into baseball which I want desperately to do, I used to know all this stuff like the back of your girl's head.
ITEM. I am formally apologizing for that last crack. Also I am formally apologizing for your girl.
ITEM. If Fantasia Barrino doesn't win American Idol 3, my whole family will be heartbroken. We're all huge fans, even Sammy who loves her because she's from North Carolina, the state with which he's obsessed. She's better than Ruben and Clay and Kelly and Tamyra too. That's right I said it.
ITEM. Cancel all my previous statements about "Reasons To Stay Alive," the correct answer should have been Funkentelechy Vs. the Placebo Syndrome. Oh yeah and my kids and friends and family and my wonderful internet community et cet. But yeah, Lundberg Family Farms Sesame Tamari rice cakes and coffee and P.Funk pretty much works for me.
31.3.04
23.3.04
this one's for jeff chang: american idol final 12
leah labelle
oh seattle gurlz,
if ambition was the point
you'd be number one
john stevens
yeah he has a sound,
but it's high school glee club chic,
minus all the "glee"
amy adams
if she turned it loose
we would see the lion in the
new wave sheep disguise
latoya london
somewhere all the ghosts
are waking up. this cute beast
shouts down babylon
matthew rogers
why is this dude here?
he is only this year's josh
except not a creep
camile velasco
seven years from now
she'll record a perfect song,
that's right, I said it
jennifer hudson
with aaliyah hair,
suddenly less riveting.
where'd jennifer go?
jon peter lewis
underestimate
mormon unity, my friend,
at your own damn risk
jasmine trias
the ear-flower is
in danger of becoming
this year's "205"
diana degarmo
like an easter egg
with nothing inside it yet,
pleasing pastel punch
george huff
thick as tar, that voice;
but there is a bubbling spring
if you like that stuff
fantasia barrino
ev'rywhere at once
blocking all objections; pure
funky checkmate joy
leah labelle
oh seattle gurlz,
if ambition was the point
you'd be number one
john stevens
yeah he has a sound,
but it's high school glee club chic,
minus all the "glee"
amy adams
if she turned it loose
we would see the lion in the
new wave sheep disguise
latoya london
somewhere all the ghosts
are waking up. this cute beast
shouts down babylon
matthew rogers
why is this dude here?
he is only this year's josh
except not a creep
camile velasco
seven years from now
she'll record a perfect song,
that's right, I said it
jennifer hudson
with aaliyah hair,
suddenly less riveting.
where'd jennifer go?
jon peter lewis
underestimate
mormon unity, my friend,
at your own damn risk
jasmine trias
the ear-flower is
in danger of becoming
this year's "205"
diana degarmo
like an easter egg
with nothing inside it yet,
pleasing pastel punch
george huff
thick as tar, that voice;
but there is a bubbling spring
if you like that stuff
fantasia barrino
ev'rywhere at once
blocking all objections; pure
funky checkmate joy
20.3.04
saturday morning, 6:58 a.m., no coffee yet
We went to go see Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind last night. I won't give too much away except to say it's ten kinds of brilliant in a popcorn box, huge emotional head-screw all the way, which is classic of course; wonderful performances from everybody, evil fun camera trickeration with a purpose this time, no last-second OH MY GAWD twists (which I'm not opposed to philosophically or anything, just a little weary of that's all), some emotional heft that I didn't think they were going for or could pull off, all that. It was braver and more of a gamble than the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and sexier too.
Here's what I'm talking about, though: Memory is a fucked thing. I mean, the memories I have with Liza--are they the same memories she has? We've been together ever since--well, since when? I know we first hooked up by making out on the floor of my common room in Leverett House in college, at the cast party of the first play I ever had produced on stage. Then, a few months off while I acted kinda weird ("I better pursue all my options here", tryin' to pimp it out a little) and while she hooked up with someone else who liked her but didn't love her the way I realized that I did all of a sudden. I remember a lot of walks home from lectures, a lot of lunches and way too much coffee, my visiting her in the language lab while she tried to read Tintin in French and writing her corny notes consisting of Velvet Underground lyrics; I remember finding out about the other guy and getting pissed off and then deciding that I didn't care, because I knew she was the coolest girl in the whole world; I remember trying to court her in that apartment in Medford Massachusetts and how she baked me rigatoni and garlic bread...what does she remember?
And what if we wanted it all erased? So then I'm sitting there in the theater almost crying at this idea, that our whole lives could somehow be deprived of each other, when I realized that they already kind of have been. I am missing the exact moment when we both realized that we were gonna be a thing. I am missing most of the night we went dancing and drinking with all her h.s. friends at the Essen Haus that next Christmas when we did the "let's meet both families in the next two weeks" tour. I am missing what happened most of the day we waited at the hospital for Sammy to be born...although I remember the blind heart-searing panic once the monitors started beeping and the nurses all turned pale and the bed was wheeled out and I was following behind asking what was happening like some pathetic guy on "E.R.", "what's going on? where are you taking her?"--THAT I remember. And the pacing in the room outside where the emergency C-section was happening, and the look on Emma's face when she met her brother for the first time but we wouldn't let her hold him and she was sad and mad but happy and not wanting to show her disappointment but already knowing that she was going to get a smaller slice of the attention pie....
Okay so I guess maybe I remember some of the important things. In fact that's all I have, that's all any of us ever have, the memories, even if they're wrong or slanted or twisted or over- or under-dramatized or embittered or sometimes just plain wrong. Even the memories we don't want to have, they're in there, they're important, they're building blocks of the people we've become. Don't let time or disease or slackening take that from me, don't let me slowly come undone.
Clearly my hippie bullshit has run its course. But this is a good movie yo yo and you should see it if but just to knock that Mel Gibson shite out of its freaky niche-market top spot.
We went to go see Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind last night. I won't give too much away except to say it's ten kinds of brilliant in a popcorn box, huge emotional head-screw all the way, which is classic of course; wonderful performances from everybody, evil fun camera trickeration with a purpose this time, no last-second OH MY GAWD twists (which I'm not opposed to philosophically or anything, just a little weary of that's all), some emotional heft that I didn't think they were going for or could pull off, all that. It was braver and more of a gamble than the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and sexier too.
Here's what I'm talking about, though: Memory is a fucked thing. I mean, the memories I have with Liza--are they the same memories she has? We've been together ever since--well, since when? I know we first hooked up by making out on the floor of my common room in Leverett House in college, at the cast party of the first play I ever had produced on stage. Then, a few months off while I acted kinda weird ("I better pursue all my options here", tryin' to pimp it out a little) and while she hooked up with someone else who liked her but didn't love her the way I realized that I did all of a sudden. I remember a lot of walks home from lectures, a lot of lunches and way too much coffee, my visiting her in the language lab while she tried to read Tintin in French and writing her corny notes consisting of Velvet Underground lyrics; I remember finding out about the other guy and getting pissed off and then deciding that I didn't care, because I knew she was the coolest girl in the whole world; I remember trying to court her in that apartment in Medford Massachusetts and how she baked me rigatoni and garlic bread...what does she remember?
And what if we wanted it all erased? So then I'm sitting there in the theater almost crying at this idea, that our whole lives could somehow be deprived of each other, when I realized that they already kind of have been. I am missing the exact moment when we both realized that we were gonna be a thing. I am missing most of the night we went dancing and drinking with all her h.s. friends at the Essen Haus that next Christmas when we did the "let's meet both families in the next two weeks" tour. I am missing what happened most of the day we waited at the hospital for Sammy to be born...although I remember the blind heart-searing panic once the monitors started beeping and the nurses all turned pale and the bed was wheeled out and I was following behind asking what was happening like some pathetic guy on "E.R.", "what's going on? where are you taking her?"--THAT I remember. And the pacing in the room outside where the emergency C-section was happening, and the look on Emma's face when she met her brother for the first time but we wouldn't let her hold him and she was sad and mad but happy and not wanting to show her disappointment but already knowing that she was going to get a smaller slice of the attention pie....
Okay so I guess maybe I remember some of the important things. In fact that's all I have, that's all any of us ever have, the memories, even if they're wrong or slanted or twisted or over- or under-dramatized or embittered or sometimes just plain wrong. Even the memories we don't want to have, they're in there, they're important, they're building blocks of the people we've become. Don't let time or disease or slackening take that from me, don't let me slowly come undone.
Clearly my hippie bullshit has run its course. But this is a good movie yo yo and you should see it if but just to knock that Mel Gibson shite out of its freaky niche-market top spot.
17.3.04
more nice email friends of me
Affordable F. Harvester, Interference R. Potato, Jurisdiction Q. Package, Unschooled T. Relapsing, Obsessed H. Jape, Ibuprofen J. Unenlightened, Speedily E. Everlasting, Cucumber Q. Perplexity, Ana T. Hanna, Bandage H. Purified, Triggering O. Murkiness, Demigod U. Weaver, Populist P. Swaggers, Chimu R. Napkin, Doxologies Q. Quadruplicates, Encircle F. Attach, Haul J. Deadens, Reoccupies C. Prurience, Ragged E. Jouncing, Ionizing J. Yuk, Dissension F. Crouch, Pogromed R. Injure, Factually B. Cart, Requiring P. Phantoms, Immunization H. Divinity, Astounding H. Cheapens, Rubberize L. Streptococcus, Reconquers M. Collin, Counters H. Nuthatches, Recidivism F. Parks, Ear I. Coon.
I realize that no one thinks this is funny but me, but I have a lot more for later.
Affordable F. Harvester, Interference R. Potato, Jurisdiction Q. Package, Unschooled T. Relapsing, Obsessed H. Jape, Ibuprofen J. Unenlightened, Speedily E. Everlasting, Cucumber Q. Perplexity, Ana T. Hanna, Bandage H. Purified, Triggering O. Murkiness, Demigod U. Weaver, Populist P. Swaggers, Chimu R. Napkin, Doxologies Q. Quadruplicates, Encircle F. Attach, Haul J. Deadens, Reoccupies C. Prurience, Ragged E. Jouncing, Ionizing J. Yuk, Dissension F. Crouch, Pogromed R. Injure, Factually B. Cart, Requiring P. Phantoms, Immunization H. Divinity, Astounding H. Cheapens, Rubberize L. Streptococcus, Reconquers M. Collin, Counters H. Nuthatches, Recidivism F. Parks, Ear I. Coon.
I realize that no one thinks this is funny but me, but I have a lot more for later.
14.3.04
howling wind, wailing children, sick to my stomach sunday mornin' comin' down
Out last night with my brother Jeff to see Madison's best New Orleans-style brass funk band: Mama Digdown's Brass Band (which I still call "Mama Digdown's Brass Junction" because I'm old school like that). Hilariously great, with my buddy Jordan Cohen on bass drum and hitting a cymbal with a triangle, my old social-work buddy Erik coming in all the way from Minneapolis to honk away on tuba: sublime. Of course, I drank too much, which has resulted in a very weird morning...but enough about that.
Listen: I have a confession to make. I am an addict. I don't like to talk about it, mostly because my addiction is not as physically painful or potentially medically catastrophic as some others. I literally am addicted to music. If I go too long without a new disc or recordstore pop-in or getting new review discs in the mail, I start getting irritable and shaky; when I come out of somewhere with new music, I feel it in the reptile part of my brain, somewhere that defies logic and conscious thought. It's gone beyond "I like it" and "I love it" to "I need new music to make up for the lack of [insert something here, it always changes] in my life" and "I need to celebrate [insert something here, it always changes] by hitting the Frugal Muse $1.00 Annex on the way home" and "I don't care if I don't have enough money to get this, I'll find a justification later" and "Better pay cash so I don't leave a paper trail." I've checked it out, I hit all the warning signs for addiction, it's sickening.
I realize that a lot of you are like this too.
CDs I have gotten in the last week:
Nellie McKay, Get Away From Me*
Baby Bash, Tha Smokin' Nephew: The Screwed and Chopped Version*
David Banner, MTA2: Baptized in Dirty Water: The Screwed and Chopped Album**
Martina McBride, Emotion***
Patty Loveless, Mountain Soul***
Paulina Rubio, Pau-latina****
Various Artists, Down South Bounce Vol. 2***
Jazzy Jay, Cold Chillin' in the Studio***
The Pharcyde, Labcabincalifornia***
Banda el Recodo, 60 Aniversario**
Various Artists, Heavyweight 3: A Blood and Fire Sampler***
Various Artists, A Bailar Merengue Vol. 1***
* Free for review
** Purchased used at Strictly Discs, Madison, Wisconsin (Banner was bought with money I got for selling old CDs, so technically doesn't count)
*** Purchased used for $1.00 each at the aforementioned $1.00 Annex, very addictive
**** Purchased new at Circuit City for review in Village Voice
Does buying the DVD of School of Rock count here?
So my question is not IS THIS BAD? Obviously it's bad. My real question is AM I EVER GOING TO HAVE TIME TO FULLY APPRECIATE THESE RECORDS? To give them the time and love and care they deserve? To listen for nuance instead of first impression, to create a full experience instead of cramming them into the corners of my life, trying to critically evaluate something that many people have put a lot of time and sweat and love into by cranking up the kitchen CD player while doing the dishes and fixing lunch for the kids? Is this any way to live?
That Banda el Recodo disc is pretty ace though.
Out last night with my brother Jeff to see Madison's best New Orleans-style brass funk band: Mama Digdown's Brass Band (which I still call "Mama Digdown's Brass Junction" because I'm old school like that). Hilariously great, with my buddy Jordan Cohen on bass drum and hitting a cymbal with a triangle, my old social-work buddy Erik coming in all the way from Minneapolis to honk away on tuba: sublime. Of course, I drank too much, which has resulted in a very weird morning...but enough about that.
Listen: I have a confession to make. I am an addict. I don't like to talk about it, mostly because my addiction is not as physically painful or potentially medically catastrophic as some others. I literally am addicted to music. If I go too long without a new disc or recordstore pop-in or getting new review discs in the mail, I start getting irritable and shaky; when I come out of somewhere with new music, I feel it in the reptile part of my brain, somewhere that defies logic and conscious thought. It's gone beyond "I like it" and "I love it" to "I need new music to make up for the lack of [insert something here, it always changes] in my life" and "I need to celebrate [insert something here, it always changes] by hitting the Frugal Muse $1.00 Annex on the way home" and "I don't care if I don't have enough money to get this, I'll find a justification later" and "Better pay cash so I don't leave a paper trail." I've checked it out, I hit all the warning signs for addiction, it's sickening.
I realize that a lot of you are like this too.
CDs I have gotten in the last week:
Nellie McKay, Get Away From Me*
Baby Bash, Tha Smokin' Nephew: The Screwed and Chopped Version*
David Banner, MTA2: Baptized in Dirty Water: The Screwed and Chopped Album**
Martina McBride, Emotion***
Patty Loveless, Mountain Soul***
Paulina Rubio, Pau-latina****
Various Artists, Down South Bounce Vol. 2***
Jazzy Jay, Cold Chillin' in the Studio***
The Pharcyde, Labcabincalifornia***
Banda el Recodo, 60 Aniversario**
Various Artists, Heavyweight 3: A Blood and Fire Sampler***
Various Artists, A Bailar Merengue Vol. 1***
* Free for review
** Purchased used at Strictly Discs, Madison, Wisconsin (Banner was bought with money I got for selling old CDs, so technically doesn't count)
*** Purchased used for $1.00 each at the aforementioned $1.00 Annex, very addictive
**** Purchased new at Circuit City for review in Village Voice
Does buying the DVD of School of Rock count here?
So my question is not IS THIS BAD? Obviously it's bad. My real question is AM I EVER GOING TO HAVE TIME TO FULLY APPRECIATE THESE RECORDS? To give them the time and love and care they deserve? To listen for nuance instead of first impression, to create a full experience instead of cramming them into the corners of my life, trying to critically evaluate something that many people have put a lot of time and sweat and love into by cranking up the kitchen CD player while doing the dishes and fixing lunch for the kids? Is this any way to live?
That Banda el Recodo disc is pretty ace though.
11.3.04
outraged by ACM, thanks for asking
This really cheeses me off. The nominations for the Academy of Country Music Awards are out, and it's all boys in every major category, except for Martina McBride's nod for best album for the pretty good Martina, and of course the demeaning "Best Female" stuff. What the hell?
Last year was a really good year for records by female country artists, but somehow none of them had a #1 single or #1 album, and now no awards. Nothing for Patty Loveless' beautiful On Your Way Home, nothing for Sara Evans' bold Fearless, nothing for "This One's For the Girls" or Mindy Smith's version of "Jolene" or Terri Clark's two awesome singles ("I Just Wanna Be Mad" is so good it makes my ears hurt) or her awesome album...nothing. And certainly nothing for "Travelin' Soldier" by the Dixie Chicks.
I know no one out there cares about country music, and I know getting worked up about music awards is stupid, and awards in general are screwed. But still. I'm cheesed and I don't care who knows it.
This really cheeses me off. The nominations for the Academy of Country Music Awards are out, and it's all boys in every major category, except for Martina McBride's nod for best album for the pretty good Martina, and of course the demeaning "Best Female" stuff. What the hell?
Last year was a really good year for records by female country artists, but somehow none of them had a #1 single or #1 album, and now no awards. Nothing for Patty Loveless' beautiful On Your Way Home, nothing for Sara Evans' bold Fearless, nothing for "This One's For the Girls" or Mindy Smith's version of "Jolene" or Terri Clark's two awesome singles ("I Just Wanna Be Mad" is so good it makes my ears hurt) or her awesome album...nothing. And certainly nothing for "Travelin' Soldier" by the Dixie Chicks.
I know no one out there cares about country music, and I know getting worked up about music awards is stupid, and awards in general are screwed. But still. I'm cheesed and I don't care who knows it.
8.3.04
quickly, quickly
UNO. Mark Desrosiers is a great man.
DOS. Me on David Banner in PopMatters.
TRES. Me on Cee-Lo in Music-critic.
CUATRO. My buddy Allison A. Mayhem is the greatest high school writer in history. Read her and smile for the future of this world.
UNO. Mark Desrosiers is a great man.
DOS. Me on David Banner in PopMatters.
TRES. Me on Cee-Lo in Music-critic.
CUATRO. My buddy Allison A. Mayhem is the greatest high school writer in history. Read her and smile for the future of this world.
5.3.04
Stash Premium Chai Green Tea. It's Friday.
a. This freelance mentalism has probably gone too far. We have a whole crapload of writers now and I'm very happy. Scott Seward probably hates me.
b. It is very possible that Terence Trent D'Arby's Vibrator is the great underrecognized classic of all time. Both "Supermodel Sandwich" and "Supermodel Sandwich w/Cheese." Deal with that.
c1. Speaking of people named Terence: I went to see the final dress rehearsal of StageQ's production of "Corpus Christi" by Terence McNally last night. I'm reviewing this for The Wisconsinite (I'd link this but it doesn't seem to work right now), so I won't go into it a lot here, but let's stretch it out a little here. It's the life and death of Jesus if he had been born gay in Texas in the modern world, except that it's not really the modern world because the centurions are still Roman, except it is because the rabbis are now intolerant Christians, but it's not because they don't kill people on the cross anymore, just in electric chairs and gas chambers and in the media and by dragging them from the back of pickups and by stomping them to death outside bars. Putting aside my critical opinions about the playwriting (bitter failed playwright that I am) and the acting (complete non-actor that I am), the suckiest thing is that this play has been targeted for MONTHS by letter-writing and phone call campaigns from Christian groups from out of town, and tonight at its premiere there will be picketers and news crews and that asshole preaching scumsucker Fred What'shisname will undoubtedly be oozing around somewhere. Here. In Madison.
c2. It's just a play.
c3. There's a lot of truth to the analogy.
c4. It's a truckload more religious and reverent in its irreverent way than Passion, as Joshua (because "Jesus" sounds too Mexican!) is a real character, especially as played by Nathan Caracter (his real name I think).
c5. It's 2004, get yr heads out of yr asses, love is love is love and doesn't need to be codified or modified or driven underground by you or your postcards or phonecalls or bias crimes or constitutional fucking amendments. Stop trying, you're just making yourself look like dinosaurs. Kids these days have "Will and Grace" and "Queer Eye" and Ellen Degeneres is their hero because she was Dory in Finding Nemo (seriously, my daughter thinks her HBO special is the funniest thing in the world), they don't hate.
c6. Multnomah County in Portland has joined the license-issuers and I could not be happier about that. It's a revolution of the heart.
c7. I need to get back to writing plays.
d. Then I came home and watched the Sheed-enhanced Pistons kick the unholy crapola out of the listless Sheed-deprived Blazers. It was sad so I turned it off and wrote this Cee-Lo review. The Cee-Lo album is up there in my mind with the others I've mentioned, as is the new Sergent Garcia and the new Clint Black and the new Tego Calderon.
e. Call someone you haven't talked to in a long time and talk to him or her for a long time. Spread love, like organic peanut butter on whole wheat bread, all over the fucking place.
a. This freelance mentalism has probably gone too far. We have a whole crapload of writers now and I'm very happy. Scott Seward probably hates me.
b. It is very possible that Terence Trent D'Arby's Vibrator is the great underrecognized classic of all time. Both "Supermodel Sandwich" and "Supermodel Sandwich w/Cheese." Deal with that.
c1. Speaking of people named Terence: I went to see the final dress rehearsal of StageQ's production of "Corpus Christi" by Terence McNally last night. I'm reviewing this for The Wisconsinite (I'd link this but it doesn't seem to work right now), so I won't go into it a lot here, but let's stretch it out a little here. It's the life and death of Jesus if he had been born gay in Texas in the modern world, except that it's not really the modern world because the centurions are still Roman, except it is because the rabbis are now intolerant Christians, but it's not because they don't kill people on the cross anymore, just in electric chairs and gas chambers and in the media and by dragging them from the back of pickups and by stomping them to death outside bars. Putting aside my critical opinions about the playwriting (bitter failed playwright that I am) and the acting (complete non-actor that I am), the suckiest thing is that this play has been targeted for MONTHS by letter-writing and phone call campaigns from Christian groups from out of town, and tonight at its premiere there will be picketers and news crews and that asshole preaching scumsucker Fred What'shisname will undoubtedly be oozing around somewhere. Here. In Madison.
c2. It's just a play.
c3. There's a lot of truth to the analogy.
c4. It's a truckload more religious and reverent in its irreverent way than Passion, as Joshua (because "Jesus" sounds too Mexican!) is a real character, especially as played by Nathan Caracter (his real name I think).
c5. It's 2004, get yr heads out of yr asses, love is love is love and doesn't need to be codified or modified or driven underground by you or your postcards or phonecalls or bias crimes or constitutional fucking amendments. Stop trying, you're just making yourself look like dinosaurs. Kids these days have "Will and Grace" and "Queer Eye" and Ellen Degeneres is their hero because she was Dory in Finding Nemo (seriously, my daughter thinks her HBO special is the funniest thing in the world), they don't hate.
c6. Multnomah County in Portland has joined the license-issuers and I could not be happier about that. It's a revolution of the heart.
c7. I need to get back to writing plays.
d. Then I came home and watched the Sheed-enhanced Pistons kick the unholy crapola out of the listless Sheed-deprived Blazers. It was sad so I turned it off and wrote this Cee-Lo review. The Cee-Lo album is up there in my mind with the others I've mentioned, as is the new Sergent Garcia and the new Clint Black and the new Tego Calderon.
e. Call someone you haven't talked to in a long time and talk to him or her for a long time. Spread love, like organic peanut butter on whole wheat bread, all over the fucking place.
2.3.04
50 things I'm thinking about
1. the rain 2. that I will never make any real money writing about music 3. that Patricia was right when she said Smokey Robinson was a liar all those years 4. how I grind my teeth 5. how I don't care anymore about authenticity in music because of ILM 6. that therefore I'm okay with liking J-Kwon's "Tipsy" 7. what a good voice my daughter has 8. how she and her friends are going to sing Hilary Duff's song about rain at their elementary school talent show, they're all going to wear raincoats and have umbrellas and choreograph a dance routine 9. that Gary Allan's videos are all wrong, especially the one for "Songs About Rain," why the hell is he in a speedboat when the song CLEARLY indicates that he's sitting in his car, and the one for "Tough Little Boys" was pretty stupid too, no offense to our servicemen but that shit is pandering 10. how I'm pretty much the only person I know who really enjoys country music 11. how happy I am that Madison has a Latino radio station now, 1480 AM "La Movida" 12. it's driving me crazy that I don't know the name of that one song they always play, the duet between the father and the daughter where he's trying to be a hard-ass in Spanish and she's all "whatever!" 13. my relationships to everyone and everything 14. man I'm hungry 15. how John Masefield and Eugene Field are underrated as poets because they liked to rhyme stuff 16. how it's been a long time since I've read my poems anywhere, maybe I should 17. I won't 18. how happy getting new CDs makes me 19. that buying them with cash so there's no paper trail is totally juvenile but absolutely necessary 20. how far behind I am on those two books I have to get done 21. how I should be working on that at 1:30 a.m. instead of writing this 22. how I don't care, I feel the responsibility to keep this up 23. not that anyone reads it 24. no offense 25. how the Keith Van Horn / Tim Thomas trade was supposed to be evidence of how brilliant Isiah Thomas is but it's not, KVH is putting up good #s for the Bucks and Thomas is spoiled 26. how I usually actually hate white NBA players unless they're from another country 27. how that's hypocritical 28. who thought up the idea of cheese? 29. who thought up the idea of circumcision? 30. how I miss everywhere I've ever been, that's kinda stupid 31. looptid 32. how I should quit reviewing, I never have time for anything anymore 33. I can't even get arrested with my pitches to the Voice anymore, too much work on weekends, etc. 34. but I am a whore for new discs so I'll never quit never never I say mwah ha hahhh 35. that was corny 36. okay moving along 37. how this blog is pretty pedestrian overall, especially compared to the stuff other people do 38. but none of those people have kids, okay maybe some 39. okay I lied in the title, I'm only thinking of 39 things 40. that's it then, going to bed now 41. okay that was 40 42. 41 43. 42 DAMN IT ALL 43 44. how if you made it this far you're a kind of hero 45. that I hope Jody Beth isn't mad at me for some stupid joke I made that wasn't even about her, oh my god how 7th grade am I, still though, you know how you say random shit and then immediately realize it could have hurt someone's feelings even though it wasn't about them at all 46. you don't know that feeling because you never say random shit like that? 47. I'm spelling "because" pretty regularly as "becuase," what's wrong with my brane 48. what's wrong with the world 49. what's wrong with typing these questions out into the void 50. no offense for calling you "the void" 51. if you're even out there
1. the rain 2. that I will never make any real money writing about music 3. that Patricia was right when she said Smokey Robinson was a liar all those years 4. how I grind my teeth 5. how I don't care anymore about authenticity in music because of ILM 6. that therefore I'm okay with liking J-Kwon's "Tipsy" 7. what a good voice my daughter has 8. how she and her friends are going to sing Hilary Duff's song about rain at their elementary school talent show, they're all going to wear raincoats and have umbrellas and choreograph a dance routine 9. that Gary Allan's videos are all wrong, especially the one for "Songs About Rain," why the hell is he in a speedboat when the song CLEARLY indicates that he's sitting in his car, and the one for "Tough Little Boys" was pretty stupid too, no offense to our servicemen but that shit is pandering 10. how I'm pretty much the only person I know who really enjoys country music 11. how happy I am that Madison has a Latino radio station now, 1480 AM "La Movida" 12. it's driving me crazy that I don't know the name of that one song they always play, the duet between the father and the daughter where he's trying to be a hard-ass in Spanish and she's all "whatever!" 13. my relationships to everyone and everything 14. man I'm hungry 15. how John Masefield and Eugene Field are underrated as poets because they liked to rhyme stuff 16. how it's been a long time since I've read my poems anywhere, maybe I should 17. I won't 18. how happy getting new CDs makes me 19. that buying them with cash so there's no paper trail is totally juvenile but absolutely necessary 20. how far behind I am on those two books I have to get done 21. how I should be working on that at 1:30 a.m. instead of writing this 22. how I don't care, I feel the responsibility to keep this up 23. not that anyone reads it 24. no offense 25. how the Keith Van Horn / Tim Thomas trade was supposed to be evidence of how brilliant Isiah Thomas is but it's not, KVH is putting up good #s for the Bucks and Thomas is spoiled 26. how I usually actually hate white NBA players unless they're from another country 27. how that's hypocritical 28. who thought up the idea of cheese? 29. who thought up the idea of circumcision? 30. how I miss everywhere I've ever been, that's kinda stupid 31. looptid 32. how I should quit reviewing, I never have time for anything anymore 33. I can't even get arrested with my pitches to the Voice anymore, too much work on weekends, etc. 34. but I am a whore for new discs so I'll never quit never never I say mwah ha hahhh 35. that was corny 36. okay moving along 37. how this blog is pretty pedestrian overall, especially compared to the stuff other people do 38. but none of those people have kids, okay maybe some 39. okay I lied in the title, I'm only thinking of 39 things 40. that's it then, going to bed now 41. okay that was 40 42. 41 43. 42 DAMN IT ALL 43 44. how if you made it this far you're a kind of hero 45. that I hope Jody Beth isn't mad at me for some stupid joke I made that wasn't even about her, oh my god how 7th grade am I, still though, you know how you say random shit and then immediately realize it could have hurt someone's feelings even though it wasn't about them at all 46. you don't know that feeling because you never say random shit like that? 47. I'm spelling "because" pretty regularly as "becuase," what's wrong with my brane 48. what's wrong with the world 49. what's wrong with typing these questions out into the void 50. no offense for calling you "the void" 51. if you're even out there
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