Jinjur!

Since I've twice posted about Evan Dorkin's blog, I felt bad that I hadn't posted anything about the equally impressive Jinjur.com, which is superwoman Sarah Dyer's website. Sarah is really the brains behind the Dyer/Dorkin web presence (from a design standpoint, anyway. At least I think she is. I can't claim to know how much of it is her work and how much is Evan's. But from what Evan himself has written/confessed, it seems like she's nearly 100% of the operation), and she's fantastico at it. For a cooking clod such as myself, her cooking classes are a godsend. (Marinades! Who knew?) So, please. Stop by and enjoy it.

Evan's Journal

Hello people. I'm just posting this as a followup to the Evan Dorkin journal link below. This is the new home of his journal. You go here now! Now!

Well, it's been 2 weeks, and what can I tell ya? The DVX keeps its own hours. If you don't like it, check a link on the right, yo.

Some shit has gone down in those two weeks, namely my sister and her family being robbed in their home at gunpoint. It really fucked me up, so who knows how my sister and her family are doing. My niece and nephew seem to have no lingering mental effects from it (luckily, and most thankfully, nobody was seriously hurt, though, my brother-in-law was tasered), but I'm sure my sister--the last person in this whole damn world who needs this kind of trauma--is probably still spinning this in her head. For me, I went through one of my worst weeks in recent memory, just thinking about it over and over again. And as I am wont to do, imagining how I'd feel if things had turned out worse. My family mean so much to me, and to have the people I would die for have their lives threatened just rips me up. I just want to go and fuck things up, hardcore style. But, cooler heads prevailed, and time has helped me relax a little bit. But I still worry. It's sad that I live in a place that was once the murder capital of the US and feel safe, but my sister is living in the country and is getting jacked.

On a lighter (ha!) note, I picked up the new godspeed you! black emperor disc a couple of days ago. It's sweeeet. I haven't really immersed myself into it yet, but will do so shortly. I can safely say that I think everybody should go buy it. Go on! Support some good goddamn art for a change, wanker!

That's all. There's more going on in my life, but I really don't feel poetic right now. So I'll blather on later.

"Write it on a postcard, 'Dad they broke me, dad they broke me....'"

Evan Dorkin: The Blog!

Just thought I'd give my blog some juice by heartily endorsing the blog of Mr. Dorkin. I've been a fan of his work for years and try to keep up with his (and Sarah Dyer's) work when it occurs to me. (Though, I don't exactly show them love with the $$$, but what are you gonna do? At least I'm not stealing from them, like all you MP3 monkeys out there. I mean, for chrissakes, if you're going to steal, why not steal some good music, you thieving bastards! End random, puzzling rant.)

Anyway, one of these days, I'm going to save the money and buy all the Dork comics I don't have, as well as a bunch of his and Sarah's stuff that I've been meaning to pick up. In the meantime, I encourage all of my readers to do the same. Ha! Readers!

MTV.com - News -Jam Master Jay, Run-DMC DJ, Killed In Shooting

I find this incredibly sad. I'm not really much to mourn the passing of a celebrity, but I am moved by this. Probably because Run-DMC really got me into hip hop, and I've always had a special place in my memories for their music. His contributions, along with his bandmates, helped push hip hop into the mainstream. And while many who have followed in their wake have sullied hip hop's good name with their ignorant thuggishness and deplorable materialism, I for one will never forget who helped get it there.

RIP Jay.

nibblechomp

So, when I get bored--you'd be surprised at how often that happens to me--I sometimes look up people I know to see where they pop up on the internet. Tonight, I decided to look for Liz and came across this nifty site. The concept is fabuloso. A foodie blog for foodies and non-foodies alike. It's so wonderful to see people be passionate about food in such down-to-earth and eloquent terms.

Okay, more web surfing. Who will I look for next?

More people should be listening to Janis Ian.

I'm sure many of you by now have heard the "new" Nirvana song, "You Know You're Right." Accompanying such a momentous event has been a lot of unnecessary analysis, trying to place it within the context of the rest of Nirvana's body of work. One article I read even quoted somebody as saying it was one of their ten best songs. As it turns out, that little bit of information has taken on the weight of fact with some people, as a forum I post in regularly has had a few members post similar sentiments. Now, I'm all for difference of opinion, but having heard the song myself, I have to say: are you fucking kidding me? Let me state right away that I think it's a good song--a very good song. But top ten? Have you people even heard anything else by Nirvana? My first impression of the song was that it was just okay, that it sounded too close to Bush doing their best Nirvana impersonation. But I kept listening to it, and eventually, was hooked. It's got a great hook leading into the one word chorus ("pain" stretched out into many syllables; not Kurt's finest writing) and, in the end, definitely worthy of being in the Nirvana canon. Top ten? Not even. Here are 10 songs off the top of my head that are better:

1. About A Girl
2. Aneurysm
3. Blew
4. Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle
5. Heart Shaped Box
6. Lithium
7. Milk It
8. Radio Friendly Unit Shifter
9. School
10. Smells Like Teen Spirit

Hello, and welcome from Washington, D.C., where pumping gas is now considered risky behavior. I'm your host, Damian Vegas, and so far, I'm bullet free.

I know, levity at a time like this, right? Well, unless you're in the D.C. area, you can't really talk. You probably don't walk 25 minutes to work every day, wondering if some lunatic is going to move his operations into the city. You don't embark on that same 25 minutes again at the end of the day, eyes darting around like some crack addict looking for a forgotten rock on the ground, wondering if the odd looking fellow in that white van over there is perhaps going to kill tonight, or maybe even now. So you'll excuse me if I try to break the tension for a minute with a joke or two.

Admittedly, I feel a bit safer being in the city, since trying to elude the police and avoid detection in downtown traffic is a losing gambit. Still, perhaps this guy is a step away from going into complete mental oblivion, where he will just come into town and start blowing people away without a care in the world about being caught. So, until he's apprehended, I will remain uneasy, if not outright spooked.

In other news...you know what really irks me? People who act as if the music they grew up with is untouchable. Like they are the only influences on music there will ever be. Naturally, it's people that are the same age as the groups they worship, who think that because they were around when that particular era broke, that everything else MUST pale in comparison. Meanwhile, they're blasting "Frankenstein." Fuck those clowns. And they usually compound their ignorance by bemoaning the sad state of "today's music." Well, if I only listened to the 5% of music that radio and television allows you to hear, I may say the same thing. Fortunately for me, I'm not lazy (when it comes to music, anyway), and I go out and find the good stuff.

And speaking of that good stuff, I've got 2 cds coming my way, both by the awesome Japanese freakout collective, Acid Mothers Temple. The first is the recently release Electric Heavyland, available from Canada's own Alien8 Recordings. The other is In C, which you can find over at Squealer Music. Hopefully, I'll get both in the next week or so. I'm very excited.

That's all for now. INUKSHUK!

Oh, one more thing: Rachael is now my current fave Camwhore. To quote Seinfeld, "They're real, and they're spectacular!" *swoon* Sadly, she lives in Michigan, which makes her my sworn enemy.

(And if you're wondering, no, I still haven't signed up to be a member. Still don't want to be that guy.)

Two days later, he wrote again.

Hi there, kids! It's time for Damian Vegas to uncloak and give you the 4-1-1!

Ugh...I couldn't even maintain that bit for more than two sentences. I need new material. Perhaps I can steal from Gastrolater #3. Yes, it finally came in the mail from the 'zine author herself, Miss Liz T. I haven't started it yet, but plan on getting around to reading it faster than I did G2. And I'm sure it will be just as good, if not better. If anybody reads this blog, I heartily endorse this product. If you are interested, e-mail me, and I'll let her know. I think the price is $5, or some such. It's well worth it. She's got great design skills, plus she's one of those hyper-literate types, so naturally it's well-written. And, if that wasn't enough to sell you, I also get mentioned twice in the travelogue. Huzzah! What more could you ask for, you greedy bastards?!

What else is in the news...oh yeah, another sniper victim. That brings the death count up to 7. And to think, in a conversation with my friend Monica a month or so ago, I lamented the fact that there weren't any high-profile serial killers these days. You know, like your Ed Geins or your Ted Bundys. Not that I want people to be killed (well, not most people), but since I find them fascinating, in a kinda morbid/scholarly sort of way, it seemed like it had been too long since we had one that was national newsworthy. I wish I hadn't said it.

Now, off to Blisstonia.

Hello, hello. I had a random person take the girlfriend quiz (link is on the left, fool!), so I figured I'd do something web-related, to justify my existence for the day.

And what a world I exist in! It's psychic death at work, which carries over to my home life, leaving with me just enough energy to turn on my television. Then, as I stare at the screen (assuming I don't have "Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law" playing or have my PS2 turned on), I am inundated with images of death in my nice little town. You see, it seems some clown has taken it upon himself to go around playing sniper and killing random people. Granted, his little killing spree is just outside my periphery (I'm in downtown D.C.), but how long before he decides to wander further into the district?

I wasn't afraid of another terrorist attack or anthrax poisoning (because I figured the government, after letting a couple slip past the goalie, would be on total lockdown), and I don't really fear West Nile, even though a couple of people have died in the area. But I am a little bit scared by this. It's so random. I walk 20 minutes to work every morning, and 20 minutes back at night, and it feels like the longest walk now. My eyes are darting around, and whenever I have to stop because of traffic, I feel myself kinda pacing in my little area, as if that would save me. It's really rather frightening. A faceless killer always is. I can't believe this clown has intruded upon my bathos so.

My niece turns one this Saturday. I'll be going to her birthday at Chuck E. Cheese. Between going there for goofy fun with my friend Mark and going with my nephew and niece, I've been to Chuck E. Cheese more as an adult than I did as a kid. And that includes trips to Showbiz Pizza Palace, which we had more of than Chuck E. Cheese where I grew up.

What else you ask? Nothing, really. Almost finished with Final Fantasy X, and have started (barely) Kingdom Hearts. I think I will try conquering Medal of Honor next. Mmmmmmmmm....nerdly.

C'est tout.

Hello people. My birthday has come and gone, and only my family members bought me items from my wishlist. You filthy bastards! What the hell is wrong with you?! The wishlist is there for a reason, people. To make me happy! Buy me things, or I swear I'll track you down and have you all beaten if I don't start getting more action here.

Anyway, the birthday was great. I went to Shula's Steakhouse the weekend before with the Entourage. (I don't think I've discussed "The Entourage" before on here; perhaps another time.) It was a terrific meal and a great surprise, and it boosted my spirits more than just about anything has recently. I did not join the 48 oz. Club, however. Dare to dream, I say!

The weekend after the birthday, I went home to visit family. I got cake and gifts and plenty of time to play with my niece and nephew. I felt so good after that stay. I always feel good after coming home, I really should do it more often. I'll be home soon enough, as my niece will be celebrating her first birthday in a few weeks. She's more adorable every time I see her. *insert sigh here*

One last birthday related note: I got great gifts from my friend Monica. A couple of them were actually supposed to be for my birthday last year, but because she's been kinda crippled and lazy (and in L.A. at the time), she never sent them. She drew the first ever Damian Vegas comic and also picked me up a tape by Hulk Hogan and Wrestling Boot Band. And for this year, she burned me a great CD. Just tremendous. Thanks, Monica!

In less significant news, I just finished Max Payne and have started Final Fantasy X. On deck: Devil May Cry, Medal of Honor: Frontline, and on its way, Kingdom Hearts. An unholy union between Squaresoft and Disney? Sure, why not?!

Lastly, I've been stopping by Cam Whores more recently after a significant lack of interest for a while. New ("new") favorite is Haru.

Musically, I have picked up the Butthole Surfers' "lost album" Humpty Dumpty LSD and have 2 cds coming in: Yo La Tengo's The Sounds of the Sound of Science and The Bombshelter DJs (Radar and Z-Trip) Live at the Future Primitive. Can't wait to get them. The BHS album is great, btw. Fans of the band who actually enjoy Hairway to Steven or Locust Abortion Technician (or more to the point, who knew the band existed before "Pepper") would do well to pick it up.

And I'm spent. 'Night!

Well, it's been a few weeks, and the most significant event to occur (here comes duh) is the one year anniversary of September 11th. I can't say I was any more reflective yesterday than I usually am. As a matter of fact, I think i semi-consciously tried to avoid thinking too much about it. But, of course, I could only hold out for so long. Starting with prime-time TV last night and the slew of 9/11 programming, I got sucked right back into it. And most surprisingly, the impact from seeing all of those images again were still as powerful a year later. I suppose thinking a year would somehow dilute the memories was a bit naive; not that I didn't want to be effected by it, but a year is a long time for somebody--especially somebody who didn't personally lose someone to the attacks--to regroup emotionally. It just seemed natural that I wouldn't be as moved by this tragedy as I had been then. I was wrong.

In less somber news, I fixed my PS2, so I've been playing the shit out of Max Payne, which I picked up to celebrate my success. I <3 Rockstar Games. I cannot WAIT until Grand Theft Auto: Vice City is released. (And if anybody would like to be generous and reserve/buy me a copy--as seen on my Wishlist!--feel free to do so. [End shill.]

Speaking of birthdays, Happy Birthday to Monica! Hope you have a great one, you damn cripple! For any random people reading this blog, go visit her site and sign her guestbook. She likes that. Make her day! And tell her who referred you!

And now, I sleep.

Hey! I just did my very own Amazon.com wish list. Click on it to buy me stuff! Act now, my birthday is in just over 3 weeks. (September 17th to be exact.) Sure, I don't get naked or perform anything else for the things on my wishlist. But if you've read this blog, you know that I need something to go my way. (Ha!) So take pity on this old soul (I'll be 28! *gasp*) and buy me something. (Caution: most items on the list are big ticket items. I figure, why wish for stuff that I could buy myself?)

More blog therapy...

So yesterday, in another fit of unedited catharsis, I did something I didn't think I could ever do. I won't say what it was, but I regret it already. I honestly believe I did the right thing, but the short-term consequences are hurting me a lot more than I expected. No matter how much you get used to something, it doesn't make it any easier to deal with. At least, that's how it is with me, anyway. But this is as much of who I am as my eye color or shoe size. Whenever I get something inside me, I have to get it out, no matter the backlash I may face or emotional turmoil I may be subjecting myself to. I think the aspect of my personality that I've wielded to get cheap laughs--that is, my ability to say without fear pretty much anything, no matter how ludicrous or how much of a lie it might be--has surfaced in other areas, making it impossible to have any kind of dialogue where I don't put everything on the table before the cards are even dealt. If I had some sort of internal editing mechanism, instead of embracing a "pure id" persona, I'd be much better about not leaving myself open. Of course, there is an irony afoot, as in this particular case, I've left myself open, but I'm not getting ANY response. I think I'd be a lot less upset if I knew what exactly was going on with all parties involved. Of course, I guess I should have gotten the whole story before leaping into emotional oblivion. But, that's pure id for you.

The Love Calculator

This is an oldie, but in a fit of nostalgia (and while searching for answers from any source), I came across it again. Slightly less bogus than the biorhythm stuff you find on the web. Why? Because I said so.

The good news, of the celebs that I matched myself with, Natalie Portman was my closest match. Yes! I wonder if this is legally binding in court. (Ha!)

The bad news? Of all the people I actually know whose names I fed into this, my best match was the last person I needed a close match with. Stranger still, it wasn't even close. At least 50% higher than anybody else. Stupid site! You go squish now!

Hey kids, what time is it?

Right now, it's 4:30 am, and I am in a semi-groggy state, having fallen asleep on my floor only to be woken up by the sound of Astronaut Jones (god bless Tracey Morgan) on the late rerun of Late Night with Conan O'Brien. Sadly, my half-awake state was throttled into complete submission to consciousness when The Strokes came out and played. Feh. Every time I hear them, I still can't believe the hype they received. Short-term memory is a disease that has tainted too much musical criticism these days. Oh well. I'm too tired to get into this debate right now.

And now, Access Hollywood is going on about Ashanti being snubbed by some misanthropic 'net fans who thinks she doesn't deserve the award she's up for. My kingdom for a sledgehammer. Damn.

Bed. Need bed. Will I do it? Nahhhhhhhhh....

Borderline Personality Disorder:

A person who suffers from this disorder has labile interpersonal relationships characterized by instability. This pattern of interacting with others has persisted for years and is usually closely related to the person's self-image and early social interactions. The pattern is present in a variety of settings (e.g., not just at work or home) and often is accompanied by a similar lability (fluctuating back and forth, sometimes in a quick manner) in a person's affect, or feelings. Relationships and the person's affect may often be characterized as being shallow. A person with this disorder may also exhibit impulsive behaviors and exhibit a majority of the following symptoms:

frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment.

a pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation.

identity disturbance: markedly and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self

impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g., spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating)

recurrent suicidal behavior, gestures, or threats, or self-mutilating behavior

affective instability due to a marked reactivity of mood (e.g., intense episodic dysphoria, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days)

chronic feelings of emptiness

inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger (e.g., frequent displays of temper, constant anger, recurrent physical fights)
transient, stress-related paranoid ideation or severe dissociative symptoms

Ahhhhh...this is more like it. That post every three days shit was not me. A couple of weeks between posts is more like it. Sadly, I have not been filling that time productively. I did spend two weekends with my father, who was visiting from California, so that was fun. Especially since one of the weekends involved being with my entire family (mother, father, sisters, brother-in-law, nephew and niece), which is always good for piece of mind.

Other than that, I can't report much. Have some more drama, but I refuse to put it into words (mostly because there are some things I just don't like to put into words, but also because I'm not sure what I would say, anyway). Have had less work-related stress, which helps, but I'm still feeling out of sorts. I've been trying to diagnose what I might have, and the closest thing I can come up with is Borderline Personality Disorder. I don't think that's it, but it's close. I should probably seek therapy, but hey, life's no fun without taking a chance, right?

What else? Hmmmmmm...well, yesterday, I picked up the new Neko Case album and have been listening to it pretty much non-stop. It's an amazing disc, with Ms. Case being backed by Giant Sand. Mmmmm....that's good music! I'd find a link to a track to download, but dammit if I'm not lazy. Besides, everyone out there seems to be stealing music these days, so I'm sure you can get it yourself. I recommend "Runnin' Out of Fools," where Neko nearly matches Aretha (who did the song in the early 60s) on vocals. Strangely enough, this is one of only 3 records I've ever bought based on hearing it being played in a store, the other two being Velvet Underground's VU ("Ocean" pulled me in) and, I'm not making this up, Aretha Franklin's I Never Loved A Man The Way I Love You.

And...that's about it. Feh.

Going to try to be a little less intense than I have been in my last two posts. All the same things are still bothering me, sure, but why prattle on about them?

Of course, that leaves me with absolutely nothing to talk about. I could write a bunch of random sentiments in an attempt to be witty and irreverant, but I don't even have the miscellaneous debris rattling around in me nogging to act on that notion.

Here's a random thought: Dave Chappelle is always the best guest on Conan O'Brien. Hands down. The only person who comes close (and very close, I'll concede) is Scott Thompson. If they put out a DVD of all the Conan appearances by those two (and they could fill out the rest of the DVD with all of the Triumph the Insult Comic Dog, "Bill Clinton" and maybe even the Martha Stewart appearances; Conan's show is the only place I've seen her not act like a total psycho), I would definitely by it. And hey! Just heard on Conan that Dave Chappelle is getting his own show on Comedy Central. Jackpot!

Another stray thought: for the first time in seven years, I'm going to miss Sonic Youth when they play in the D.C. area. I am seriously saddened by this turn of events. They play tomorrow night (technically tonight) at the 9:30 with Erase Errata and Mary Timony (*swoon*). With my luck, this will wind up being their last tour or something. At least they would be doing it on a high note. Murray Street totally fucking rocks.

Okay, one last thing, then I'm headed for bed. I know she's a bit of a ditz, and a gold-digger, and not very talented in any way, but I really, REALLY think the harshness in criticism of Anna Nicole Smith in the press and just about everywhere has been unfair. Particularly since most of it centers not around her lameass show but mostly around the size of her body. So she's put on some weight; big fucking deal. I still think she's gorgeous. Perhaps as dumb as a post, but I don't think she's lost anything in the looks department. If the majority of the comments were about the inanity of the show, or how vapid she appears to be, I'd have less of a problem. But most of the criticism is just people taking potshots at her because she's "fat" now. Feh! Idiots, the lot of them.

(Fun fact! The first Playboy magazine I ever bought featured Anna Nicole Smith! Perhaps my affection for her is also tinged with sentimentality.)

Charlie Daniels sitting in with the Max Weinberg Seven on Conan! Huzzah!

Bonne nuit.

Hey look! An update to this ridiculous blog within three days of the previous post! Huzzah!

I just wanted to use this space, at this time, to express this sentiment: falling out of love is one of the hardest things an attention monkey like myself can do. I've realized that I have an affliction commonly attributed to women (not entirely unfairly), and that affliction is the belief that I am incomplete somehow without a woman in my life. This really doesn't surprise me; ever since my first serious relationship, I've found that some way or another, I have moved from woman to woman just to fill the void. And it's not always romantic; it simply requires somebody I can care about that cares about me as well. And I've gone through ridiculous lengths and done ridiculous things to keep from being alone.

So while this is not really a revelation for me, what is kinda surprising is how it never gets any easier. I'm not proud at all to be cursed with this, but what can I do? I'm just....*counts on fingers*....one man.

Jesus tap-dancing Christ! What the fuck is wrong with me?!

Actually, the question is rhetorical. I know what is wrong with me. It's what the French call le depression. I think that's what they call it. Does it even matter? They're french! Feh!

Anyway, yeah, I'm finally caving into that fashionable web trend of whining about my life right here on the web. In my defense, this is about the only place I can talk candidly about what's going on without getting perplexed or worried looks. Why am I even prefacing my remarks? Who fucking reads this thing? (Okay, I can name 2 people who do, but they already know all of this--on some level, anyway--so it won't be news to them if they choose to swing by the blog.)

So, back to my point (see? there it goes...), I have, for some time now, been battling with depression, which in the last month has taken a turn for the worst. Not in the dire, get him on the hotline way...I'm much too queasy to do anything violent to myself or others, even if I do think about it. Anyway, it's been very crippling, and I'm not sure how to get past it. I am becoming incredibly lethargic (which is dangerous for someone who is already pathologically lazy) and have no interest in seeking solace in the world outside of my apartment. I've cut off my friends, who for a while now have been used to not seeing me as much because of financial reasons. So it's convenient to have that worked out ahead of time, so I don't have to deal with explaining to friends why I don't want to go out with them. This also has the added "benefit" of me not having to talk about my depression. I know that sounds puzzling, as everybody says that talking about it with someone--anyone--will help. And if I could afford it, I probably would consider therapy (even though I remain largely skeptical about how effective that would be for me. (I emphasize me to point out that I do believe therapy is effective, but only for the right people. Anyway...getting off that tangent...I don't like talking about it because I don't really have (m)any friends who have an experience dealing with this, and quite frankly, I have no interest in talking about my problems with people who can offer me nothing in terms of credible counsel. So...I suffer. I have been able to alleviate some of it by talking to my mother (who also suffers from depression) this past weekend. But even that (which eventually included a trip to see her and my niece and nephew) proved a temporary relief, mostly because I hate burdening my mother and worrying her (and she was very worried, as she's never really seen me this way) and I felt guilty, even though I know I shouldn't because I know she wants to help.

So ends my harrowing tale of sadness and lethargy. I probably will delete this entry in a day or two. But, I felt it necessary to type this out, probably for the small, therapeutic benefits of getting this out in the "open."

~fin~

*yawn*

Man, the time just flies by. It's already been nearly two weeks since my last post, and I have to say, not a whole lot has happened since then. (You've probably noticed that pattern, if in fact anybody is reading this here blog.) I went home this past weekend and visited my family. Got to play with my nephew and niece, who are the two most beautiful children in the world. Arianna is walking and Aaron was his usual smartass, adorable self. Though, he is sporting a much closer haircut these days. He can pull it off. I, on the other hand, would look like the kid who punches himself in the head in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back (it's a deleted scene for those of you scratching your head on the reference), but without safety helmet. Oh well.

I've also been spending waaaaay too much time at Cam Whores. Before you become Judgy McPuritan on me, I should point out that this is more about capturing the mundane (well, beautifully packaged mundane) than titillation. It's basically people (okay, mostly women) who sit in front of their webcams and talk with the members in various states of (un)dress. (I'm not a member; I may need a little more interaction, but spending $20 a month isn't the way to get it. So I haven't talked to anybody at the site.) Yes, they do occasionally get naked, and apparently things get a bit naughtier during members-only private shows, but I'm not drawn in by any of that. I just....watch. I have no problem admitting I have a voyeuristic side, but even I'm surprised at the number of times I've stopped by that site, just to see who is around. My favorites are ArtFag, Carrot Cake, Doll-O-Matic, and Tousled Elegance. Beautiful, all.

Other than that, ain't much more to report. 4th of July was great. Spent it with the Obergs and J. Kelly, drinking and eating and causing suburban mayhem in the Obergs tasteful new digs. Carl got blitzed and booted at 2 am. Hilarious. And I've been listening to the shit out of the new Sonic Youth disc. Go pick it up if you can. Solid.

Hey, Monica. If you're reading this, just wanted to say I'm sorry I've been incommunicado lately. I'll be in touch soon. Hope you're feeling well!

Peace and hair grease, ya'll.

Well, it's been 3 weeks since I last posted on here, and not much has changed besides my mood. I've been feeling (and here comes some pathetic emo-sounding angst) kinda down the last few days. I'm not sure why; probably a chemical imbalance. And watching "Hookers at the Point" on HBO for the umpteenth time isn't helping. There's something sad about seeing a girl-who stopped stripping because she wanted to maintain some shred of dignity (she didn't want to "drop her bottoms")-become a crack-whore. I should crack a book or something.

Anyway, it hasn't been a series of down notes, like The Empire Strikes Back (c'mon, name the movie). I've picked up some great music (including the new Sonic Youth album, which was the subject of my last post) and a couple of books I'm excited about reading (or have started in the case of "Dance of Days"). But something is missing.

Finally, let me wrap up this brief post by giving a shout to my girl Monica, who moved back to New Jersey today. Remember, it's only for a little while until things get better. You'll be back in L.A. in no time, kid.

ClearChannelSucks.org :: How many ways has Clear Channel sucked today?

What a great site. Well worth breaking my lord knows how long silence on this damn blog. I came across this site at Scrubbles. Anybody who would like to get more information about the sad state of current mainstream media would do well to look here.

There was a time when I, like many neophyte indie rock kids, was a die-hard, up-to-the-minute, "I *HEART* KIM", Sonic Youth fan. I was in the newsgroups, I was scouring the web for fan pages, yadda cetera. Somewhere along the line, however, I lost touch with the band. Maybe it's because my own sonic palette had expanded (thanks in large part to the band's own name dropping of bands they like and toured with), or maybe I wasn't maturing at the same pace as they were. (And that's not a dig at the band's age.) For whatever reason, my zeal for the band waned until they were just another band in my collection. (Though, they are still one of the few must see bands for me these days.) NYC Ghosts & Flowers didn't help matters much, as the band for the first time (IMO, anyway) came off as self-consciously avant-garde. It's not like I didn't like the album, but I have to say, it doesn't make it into the CD player much.

Then tonight, I decided to pop in Daydream Nation. And while listening to it, I moseyed over to the band's website to read the latest on the band. In the news section was a download of the first track off of their upcoming album (entitled Murray Street) called "The Empty Page." Curious, I downloaded the track, wondering if this would be a deeper foray into the avant-garde, especially since Jim O'Rourke had become a full-time member. To my surprise, the track was one of the most straightforward of their career. It was mid-tempo, with minimum noise, and Thurston doing more singing than sing-speaking. The song even had a kind of classic rock ending. (Don't ask me what that means; I can't really explain it myself.) It reminded me of Pavement's "Major Leagues," though it sounded nothing like it: it was the sound of a band just sitting back and playing it straight (as straight as an avant-garde leaning band can play it). I don't know if the rest of the album sounds like this--I have a feeling it probably won't, at least not overall, as the opening track felt like it was about to launch the entire album into a completely different orbit.

This isn't really an endorsement of the song on my part; all in all, it wasn't anything exciting. And I'm not bemoaning the fact that this isn't "Teenage Riot" or "Schizophrenia." I think of all the fans in the world, Sonic Youth fans may be the most willing to embrace a band's new direction. I'm just saying that the song doesn't have the visceral impact that so many of their classic album openers have. But there's something about the song that now has me anticipating listening to the tracks that follow it. Weird, eh?

(WORST...ENDING...EVER.)

Fuck these clowns.

First, they make a name for themselves by blatantly ripping off The Beatles (and did a shitty job, I might add), now they want to chase The Osbournes? Let's see...Beatles, Sabbath...throw in a stab at Led Zeppelin mimicry and they'll have hit the holy trilogy of rock music. Maybe the brothers Gallagher can cut an album with Steve Albini behind the board and call it "Walking Into a Bank Vault" or "We're Rock Icons, Too!" It would be worth it if Albini snapped at the end and kicked them both squah in the nuts. (Via Stevie Nixed)

Steve Albini Talks of Food

For some reason, I'm looking up Steve Albini interviews on the web. I guess it's because I'm listening to The Breeders Pod. Who knows? Anyway, I came across this gem of an interview. I'm not sure how it was conducted; I'm assuming via e-mail, as he takes time to criticize (hilariously, I might add) the poor grammar and spelling in a couple of places. An enjoyable read for indie scenesters and foodies alike.

O: What's your favorite body part on a woman?

SA: Um, there's a tendon that goes between the thigh and the beaver on a young lady. That particular area has always been of great appeal to me.

A chuckle-inducing interview with noise-rock icron and producer--I mean, engineer--Steve Albini. Funnier if you know the reputation the man has, but still good on a "look what they're doing to this guy" level as well.

BEST. EPISODE. EVER.

So, I saw Episode II: Attack of the Clones this past weekend. No, it wasn't the best episode ever. I was just messing with ya. But it was not nearly as brutal as critics would have you believe. Unless, of course, you cut out the last twenty-odd minutes of the movie. Then its pretty craptacular fare. Maybe not the blight on cinematic history that some of the more "learned" critical poseurs are making it out to be, but it was definitely not "The Empire Strikes Back."

The worst part of the movie was the love story. Now, I am not averse to romance. But a romantic angle inside of a sci-fi/action film can go wrong in so many ways, and this one did. Most of it can be chalked up to Hayden Christiansen's terrible, terrible acting (Jake Lloyd was better!) and Lucas' cliche addled romantic dialogue. Whatever can't be pinned on this year's model of Anakin Skywalker can be pinned on how forced it all came off in the context of the movie.

Now, there were some other cheesy, should have been put on the editing floor moments, but to point them all out (deathsticks? c'mon!) would be nitpicking. However, the movie was made in a big way at the end. So as not to spoil your enjoyment of the movie, I will sum it up thusly:

Yoda.

Lightsaber.

Kick ass!

This really was worth my nine bucks. The rest of the movie could have been all Jar Jar (who, thank the maker, had very little screen time in this episode) and I still would have left the theater happy if the last part of the movie remained the same. This is also what will get the die-hard fans going back, much to the chagrin of the cinema pundits. It's funny, a number of reviews seem to decry the fact that these movies don't live up to the standards of the originals. But the fact is, they're the same: cheesy dialogue, intriguing characters, great special effects, and the good guys win in the end. (Usually.) I think people are just disappointed that a part of their childhood is being pulled out of the rusty trunk that is hidden in the corner of their nostalgia basement (beneath their memories of Lincoln Logs and Lite Brite) and given to a new generation of moviegoers, who they probably do not deem worthy. And while I agree with them in principle, the fact remains that most of the people crying foul on the new movies lost their sense of wonder a long time ago, and are too busy quaffing latte's for their opinions to be relevant to anybody but themselves and their editors.

Anyway...sorry about the long-winded rant. Hey! Speaking of cultural irrelevance, tonight is the series finale of Ally McBeal. It's about fucking time.

But, I don't want to end this on a negative note, so one last item of business: Adult Swim is the funniest shit on tv. They ran the great "Welcome to Eltingville" pilot again last night, which of course if the creation of Evan Dorkin (who, along with Sarah Dyer, have their web presence at the very cool House of Fun). I really hope that the series gets picked up. If you saw it and would like to lend your support to the show, go here. Definitely check out Adult Swim when you get a chance, though.

Anyway, just an hour until the post-Judgment Day Raw, and I need to get my eat on. I'm going to try to update this a bit more regularly, as it turns out a couple of my favorite ladies actually check out the spot on occasion, and I'd hate to disappoint them.

Well, I'm about seven hours from seeing Episode II: Attack of the Clones (worst...title...ever!) and something is bothering me. It's not the impending sense of dread that comes with preparing to endure Jar Jar Binks. And it's certainly not the letdown factor, as my hopes are much much lower after seeing The Phantom Menace. It's not even the possibility of having to suffer costumed fanatics (even though I secretly want to dress like Boba Fett). What is bothering me is the transparent zeal and giddy viciousness that is flooding the early reviews of the movie. I read the scathing criticisms and think "Jesus tap-dancing Christ, this has got to be the worse movie ever. Possibly even worse than Rocky IV." But there's something in the reviews that doesn't sit right. They all seem too well-prepared, as if these remarks were written before they even got to see the opening credits crawl. I get the feeling that these reviews were written months ago, then filtered endlessly until nothing is left but the most bile-filled prose imaginable. You'd think by reading the reviews that George Lucas himself was bending them over and boning them with a sandpaper condom. The hateful glee that saturates the pages is practically sliding off, blackening the fingers like the Devil's blood.

Now, I realize that they have a job to do. And I'm sure that the movie is not above being a steaming pile of shit. But where is the vindictiveness coming from? Are they pissed that people will go see this movie just because it's another Star Wars movie? Okay, fine, there's something wrong with blind allegiance to a brand. But you know, these are the same critics who never miss a new Hal Hartley film, for example, without giving it a second thought. (That's not a knock on Mr. Hartley, as he is one of my favorite directors.) It's the hypocrisy of it all: as if unquestioned devotion to a director simply because he's more of an indie "auteur" than a big "Hollywood director" is somehow noble. And you just know that these same critics, so hip and knowing are also trying to get on the guest list for the next Strokes show, because they saw them on M2 and think their sound is fresh. And besides, didn't Rolling Stone call them a hot new band? Fucking poseur critic assholes.

I'd like to close this little screed with something from the rant-meister himself: "The key thing to remember about all critics is that they remain dependent on the innovator, the person doing the real work of creating. And because they just sit on the sidelines of life, never the hunter, they are doomed to be forgotten."

So, to you critics out there who are trying to outshine your fellow critics in pissing on the latest Star Wars release because it's the in-thing to do, enjoy. But remember, you can count the number of critics whose body of work can genuinely called works of art on one hand and still have a thumb left to jam up your ass. Have fun on your way back to obscurity.

Obey Giant
Viva phenomenolgy! A cool (and fairly well-known) site. Naturally, the design is solid. Join in the phenomenon. Get your posse on!

Welcome to Ecstasky!
Now this is the only way to fly. This is an idea whose time has surely come. It doesn't mention price, though, I don't have quicktime, so one of the clips might mention this. At any rate, I'm sure it is well outside of the price range of your average Joe Planeticket traveler. Still, just goes to show that sex can be used anywhere for anything.

This is why you don't get a pony!
I'm sorry, I've been away all this time, and this is how I make my triumphant return: with beastiality! I only posted this because I thought it was funny they pixillated the horse's face. Now he may gallop about without gawkers saying, "there's the poor animal who was violated by that awful, awful man."

As always, the Sun gives us the real news.

R.I.P. Linda Lovelace
Not a tragedy, but it's certainly sad to see her pass away like this. I've not read her biography, but her story is familiar enough to both the pro-porn and the anti-porn groups in this country, that it's just not the kind of ending you would want for somebody who went through what she did. I'm sure there are people in the industry she helped break into the mainstream (with Deep Throat, which is one of the jewels in the porno triple crown, along with Behind the Green Door and The Devil in Miss Jones) who aren't too saddened to see her pass because of her campaigning against porn in her later years, but it's hard to deny the impact her life has had on modern social mores, even if its a bit tangential. A shame.

Okay, so it's been a few days since I updated this. I'm sure my many fans out there were unable to sleep due to this tragic turn of events. But, I'm back, and you can stop your crying.

Hey! Speaking of "Stop Your Crying," (I swear, I didn't plan this cheesy segue ahead of time), I saw Spiritualized this past weekend. They played with B.R.M.C., who thoroughly underwhelmed me. But Spiritualized rocked (as my townfolk say). For those Spiritualized fans out there, this is the set they played:

Electricity
Shine A Light
Electric Mainline
On Fire
Out of Sight
So Hot (Wash Away All of My Tears)
Walkin With Jesus
Medication
Take Your Time
Broken Heart
I Think I'm In Love
Don't Just Do Something (my favorite current Spiritualized song)
Come Together
Thing'll Never Be the Same
Lord, Can You Hear Me (this was the encore)

Also spent way too much time in front of the television watching the NFL Draft. (Go Dolphins!) It's a sickness, but dammit, I don't care. I looooooove football. (For best effect, think of Seann William Scott saying it as his character from Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back.)

The other high point of my weekend? WWF Backlash, which saw Hulkamania return to all its glory. That, my friends, is a shame. We can only hope it will be short-lived. Nothing personal against Hogan, but he just can't put on a good match anymore. But, the public wanted it, so there it is. It's too bad Paul Orndorff can't go full-on in the ring any more. I'd love to see Mr. Wonderful come back, just to feud with Hogan. They could start a whole "Seniors" division and let them battle it out in the middle of the card at house shows and on TV. I'd pay to see that. Nostalgia has its place, just not at the top of the card.

Strong Bad checks his e-mail

Brilliant. Strong Bad sounds vaguely like Triumph the Insult Comic Dog. Try out Some Kind of Robot for go-go hilarity! Thanks to Monica for passing this along to me.

The Art of the Mix
Found this site at Scrubbles. If you like making mixes like I do (and if you consider yourself a music snob who thinks it's your duty to spread the news on bands like Explosions in the Sky and The Bigger Lovers--like me--then you probably do), then this is a great site to get ideas.

And I'm back. Went home this past weekend for family birthdays. (Mom's is the 17th, sister's was the 9th, so I split the difference.) I tell you, the Eastern Shore of Maryland has nothing going on. My biggest thrill is probably ogling the hotties at the Annapolis Mall (which we almost always hit on the way there) like the lech that I am. Still, I never consider it a waste of time, because time with the family is always relaxing. Having the niece and nephew to play with is a bonus, too.

Anyway, while there, I saw a movie ("Changing Lanes"-not bad) and did a little shopping (I picked up Sleater-Kinney's "The Hot Rock" and "Age of the Sun" by the Sunshine Fix, both worthy additions to anybody's music collection). Good times.

Also, I would like to add that this year is the first year I got my taxes done before April 15th. I mailed them on April 2nd, by gum. God willing, I'll get them mailed out before April next year.

Semper fudge!

My friend Greg sent me this link once. Happened upon it again while paying a visit to Where Are My Pants?

...prounced 'fuckle.'

Monkey!
I have one rule of comedy: monkeys and midgets (yeah, yeah...little people) are always funny. I found this little gem while trying to find a screen grab of "Hail to the Chimp" from The Simpsons.

U.S. Drops Cats Into Belgium

"The U.S. continues to support the peace process between the Palestinians and the Israelis, and that is why we have been dropping cats into Belgium, and will continue dropping cats into Belgium, until all of Brussels is purring under a two-foot-deep blanket of cats."

Finally, some political maneuvering I can get behind. Teach those Belgians a lesson!

Today's phrase that pays: "In my day, five dollars would have been enough to soil a woman like that." -from Andy Richter Controls the Universe

To quote my friend Monica, "crap on shit!"

Ya see, I had actually typed this long ass post (relative to what's already here) and then suddenly, my computer starts to freak out. So I couldn't post it, nor could I copy and paste it and save it for later (one of the symptoms of my freakout is loss of use of mouse). Now I got nothing. I could retype it, and it would probably be a lot better than what was there before, but dammit, I gotta go to bed soon. (I hate saying that, especially when I'm not tired.) I guess that's all for now. Dammit.

"I have a theory on why people moan at certain jokes: envy." -George Carlin

This may turn out to be the most boring blog in the universe, unless I resort to telling humourous lies to keep interest (mine and any readers) from waning. I am definitely more intrigued by the possibilities of an invented existence than I am by the reality of the situation. Not in some life-exploring way, like Lauren Slater, but for the purposes of entertainment value. We shall see. In the meantime, I'm just going to try to keep this up until I get sick of it.

So, this is day two of blog madness, and I must say, my life has not dramatically improved. I suppose I had set my expectations too high. C'est la vie...

You know what I hate? Bally's commercials. I hate all gym commercials, but Bally's commercials are really annoying. Especially the Pink and Jessica Simpson ones they've been subjecting me to lately. The message here: work out at our gym and you too can become a no-talent skank.

So, I'm sitting here watching Smackdown, and trying to figure out where everything goes. I'm new to this whole blog deal (such command of the English language!) so it is going to take me awhile to put my personal stamp on this. In the meantime, you can check out my Geocities website (link removed 05/2005 for reasons that are ridiculous) to learn more about me.

By the way, if you're wondering how I could tear myself away from Smackdown, I have two words for you: Bob Holly. ("Boooooor-ing!")

Finally, Damian Vegas has come back to Blog Spot! Stay tuned to this spot for more fanciful inanity.