for those about to rock: December 2005

Friday, December 30, 2005

distressing

i just discovered a long hair growing out of the side/back of my neck.

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

sometimes

sometimes i deeply miss living in northampton --

lazy sunday afternoons spent rummaging through used cd bins at turn it up!; buying smokes from the pretty girl working at lizotte's after putting in a half day shift at primo's; hammering away at jack's electric bass while sprawled on the couch in front of an snl re-run (back when comedy central played the ones from the hartman-farley-sandler renaissance years); my gay roomie ryan speculating on the sexual orientation of the new guy living next door and half-joking about the accuracy of his gay-dar; the smell of mary cooking omelettes on hungover weekend mornings; getting dishevelled with devin and chilling with his dog cheech; having our neighbor karen walk from her apartment across the shared deck and knock at our kitchen door for surprise visits; twenty-minute jogs around the dormant farm tucked a few blocks back from my apartment; pennant-sized and shaped slices of slightly burnt brick oven pizza from nini's to take home and eat after noodling around with the guitar effects pedal board over at downtown sounds; living within walking distance of 5 or 6 venues regularly showcasing live music; sometimes performing with such a showcased act; dollar drafts of willard's brew (a curious psuedonym for pabst) and loads of free popcorn on an odd weeknight with louie and banky and tom and the busslers over at the office (greatest bar in america); the rank smell of manure in nearby hadley signalling the inexorable change of season; the robust smell of home-brewed coffee percolating my senses in comfortably stretched-out mornings, and the subsequent early afternoon trip to the forbes library to research materials for articles but largely spent perusing the old movie collection; high school panhandlers and their lazy deceptions in front of thornes marketplace; the lazy laws put in place to regulate such panhandlers; the splendor on the grass; the promise of twenty-three and the proximity of smith college; the promise cast down sunset on a friday afternoon and a blank-slate schedule and chance meetings with friends and acquaintances downtown; the conmingle of unexpected adventures and new experiences; the deeply-reassuring and cagily-nurturing intuition of possibilities abound.

Sunday, December 25, 2005

an irony-free merry christmas to all

i thought i'd take a moment to offer anyone reading this GENUINE good tidings for christmas, because God knows we'll have plenty of 20-something academic hacks/pissants taking the opportunity to undermine today's holiday online or on tv or the radio or wherever with petty politicization.

these are the same people who make it a point to adopt and loudly portray liberalism because it's fashionable and convenient and perhaps even expected, and who in their heart of hearts couldn't honestly give two shits about the meek or elderly or poor or sick or hungry or outcast or otherwise needy or otherwise helpless people of america and of the world (as, say, Jesus did) because such empathy worn on the sleeve or in actual practice isn't sexy, and doesn't play well among hipsters whose big political and philosophical education in life came from watching the movie "fight club". they're the same people who arrogantly ignore that a christian is equipped like any other human being with a mind capable of critical thought, and that the Bible is a collection of deeply-metaphorical documents that many christians feel requires interpretation via the critical mind, rather than taking it all in at literal face value, and that many of these same christians arrive at staunchly liberal life perspectives as a result of a deeper reading of and meditation on scripture. they're the same people that denounce the far right for racism and bigotry and misogyny and otherwise reductive world views but are only too happy to practice pigeon-holing and blanket generalizing from the left. they're the same people who doggedly make it known that they respect the sanctity of other, more exotic world religions, but who have no reservations about picking up a chic ironic Jesus action figure at newbury comics to project hipster solidarity.

that's probably more than i've had to say on the subject of christianity in the specific and of religion in general in quite a long time. it's certainly the first time i've addressed it on this blog. like most fellow liberals, i adhere to the notion that religion is ultimately a personal pursuit and practice. i do a good enough job of keeping my own religion to myself that people are sometimes noticably surprised when i reveal to them that i'm a christian. if you read this blog from time to time, you might be surprised to be reading this now, too.

as a LIBERAL christian, though, i've felt compelled -- oops, that's an indelicate word among those God-hating liberals who obsess over semantics, so i'll say 'motivated' instead -- to write in detailed and lengthy prose on the subject of the very particular kind of liberal that angers me as a christian and makes me feel shame as a liberal.

realizing the holiday affords me a topical opportunity, though, i decided to let some shit off my chest in that measured paragraph above, rather than take the easy misstep and egregiously splay out my own religion or politics in a meandering, self-absorbed fashion.

so, there it is. shit off my chest. and as far as my proselytizing goes, that's that.

anyways, an irony-free merry christmas to all, and to all an irony-free good night!

Thursday, December 22, 2005

writer's block looks like a picture of ed asner apparently smoking a joint on tv's "match game"

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

you ain't the first

i was listening to a general interest late-night radio talk show as i went to sleep last night when i drowsily learned the news of johnny damon's signing with the new york yankees.

you wouldn't believe the number of women who subsequently called in to the show to voice their earnest feelings of betrayal.

then again, you probably would.

Friday, December 16, 2005

7 7 7 7 7 7 7

jesse's tagged me for a post on tunes. here goes:

1. "twin cinema", by the new pornographers -- basically, any song they've written would have a happy home on this list. this one is absolute perfection. my favorite song off of what is arguably their best album.

2. "big fat fuck", by ween -- the bass line has some kind of phasery effect on it that makes it all jiggly and bloated, and the vocals are processed to make them sound like fat rolls blurping out of a pair of stretch pants. ween is the only band that can make me laugh out loud with music.

3. "dicks hate police", by the dicks -- mean texas blues punk as brash as the name implies. lead singer gary floyd is a complete psychopath on this one, and the awesomely effective major-to-minor chord slashing that backs up his fury is equally maniacal.

4. "rusty cage", by soundgarden -- from the call-and-response guitars that herald the charging, fat and slinky verse riffs to come, to cornell's god-of-rock shriek, to the big ol' badass breakdown at the end of the song. i love how it fades out in that humming harmony -- it always makes me think of a car vanishing into heat distortion in the distance.

5. "heart full of black", by burning brides -- i saw these guys open for audioslave a couple of years ago. they reminded me a lot of the hellacopters: rolling stones swagger on steroids, coupled with loud and proud ac/dc ballsitude. i hadn't even heard this song before i picked up this wonderful game (to be blogged about soon), but its brawny hooks pulled me in right from the get-go.

6. "would?", by alice in chains -- for the way the chorus hits you like a tidal wave ("into the flood again", indeed) but especially for the outro, where cantrell uncorks one of the nastiest riffs in metal. when layne staley asks "have i run too far to get home?", it's not only a startling cry from the depths of addiction, it's a portentous question that he himself would ultimately answer with a sad finality.

7. "fairytale of new york", by the pogues -- i haven't been able to escape this song in the past couple of days. it's basically a ribbing duet in the style of conway twitty and loretta lynn, except it's actually a disfunctional christmas carol sung by two cranky irish punks. i've loved the pogues ever since i first saw shane macgowan spitting angrily at the microphone on their saturday night live performance.

now i need to tag seven. i nominate elliott, rasheed, scott, jamie, dan, meaghan and carl. have at it, folks!

one of the greatest things i've ever done.

one of the greatest things i've ever done was when i drunkenly sent this big-breasted girl from miami a myspace message that went thusly:

[subject line] hey

[body] just a little hey hey. what up?!?

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

ladies and gentlemen, reverend benny hinn:

Thursday, December 08, 2005

metal mania / enter insane conductor

boarding the b after work last night, i heard a BLARING, OUT-OF-CONTROL heavy metal guitar solo tearing through someone's headphones behind me. anytime anyone on the train listens to their ipod loud enough for me to be able to accurately identify songs at ten paces, i make it a point to pick out the live wire in the crowd so that i may grant him or her wide berth when exiting the train.

so, after i found a good spot to stand for the subway ride, i turned to look at the source of the mental metal meltdown. it was a clean-cut, buttoned-down man in his mid to late thirties. he looked like a young steve forbes.

later, as the train pulled into one of the bu stops, it was time for the insane conductor to make himself known. jesse had told me a story about this guy before, and i knew it was him from the moment his medicated, android-like enthusiasm came over the intercom:

"NEXT STOP ... BOSTON UNIVERSITY WEST! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE NOW RING THE BELL FOR ALL STOPS. JUST LOOK FOR THE YELLOW STRIPS ON EITHER SIDE OF THE CAR! WHEN YOU PRESS ONE OF THOSE STRIPS, WE'LL LET YOU OFF AT THE NEXT STOP!

[then, no joke -- DERANGED, HICCUPPING LAUGH]

IT'S AS SIMPLE AS THAT!!!"

i wish i could say i thought he was just fucking around with us, but the dude had the quivering tone of someone who's given himself completely to the mundane, repetitive rigor of his work and put reality squarely in the rear view mirror, a la robin williams in "one hour photo".

i consider myself fortunate that he had no way of running the train off the track and taking us all on a city-wide crazy spree.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

hey, scarface, inc.!!!

this day has served up a chafing frost cold enough to blue ball all those flaming libidoes lingering in the aftermath of last night's televised pageant of impossibly gorgeous women that you'll never have (cbs's "victoria's secret fashion show"). numbed by the cutting arctic gusts, and with a 100 dollar gift card to filene's (thanks, grandma) burning a hole in my wallet, i decided that today would be a fine day to take my first lunch break in about 2 weeks and venture out to downtown crossing to shop for a winter coat.

it's not that i don't already own a winter coat. there's a homely brown number i purchased last winter hanging neglected in my closet at home. it's just that when i pair said coat with my frequently-worn brown cordouroys and brown shoes, i ... well, there's no other way to say it: i look like a big piece of shit.

anyhow, filene's was a fucking madhouse. i spent about 20 minutes threading through crowds of frantic, bug-eyed shoppers (it's december 7. chill.) and wandering aimlessly before i finally stumbled upon the men's section. finding that my jacketing options were limited to puffy/puff daddy/sean combs/p. diddy/diddy/shit daddy-style coats priced at 165 bucks, i cursed at the waste of valuable lunch time and made haste for the exit.

i was thinking that i might chance popping my head into tello's to see about finding a good cheap coat, but thought better of it when i realized how much time i had left before i needed to get my ass back to my desk.

still, this passing whim reminded me of a post i was gonna write a couple of months ago when i first checked out tello's, which brings me around to a subject framed by the title of this post: the scarface section at tello's. yep, that's right, an entire section of the store devoted to all sorts of apparel sporting tony montana's sulking mug. they've got scarface tees, scarface headbands, scarface hats, scarface belts, scarface suspenders, scarface underoos.

scarface, scarface, scarface. you can wrap yourself up in all manner of scarface garments so that you can be good and ready to catch scarface when it airs on the spike network for the nine hundredth time.

tony montana is revered as an icon of ruthlessness in hip-hop, and manly-men media outlets like maxim magazine and spike tv put him up on a bloody pedestal as a paragon of machismo. all this scarface worship, unfortunately, belies two simple facts ...

scarface is a shitty movie. and tony montana is not so much a ruthless, macho gangster as he is a solipsistic and opportunistic asshole. a big baby with a gun, a coke problem and a loud mouth.

oh boy, he lets insane drug dealers hack up his buddy with a chainsaw. you know what? he's an asshole.

oh boy, he treats michelle pfieffer like shit. you know what? he's an asshole.

oh boy, he kills robert loggia, whose only real crime in the movie was minding his own business, having a good time and laughing it up at the club. you know what? he's an asshole.

scarface would've been ten times better if loggia had managed to snuff out that prick early on and then spent the rest of the movie at the club telling jokes with associates and laughing uproariously in between swigs of scotch and puffs off a good cuban (yeah, lame pun intended. it's late.).

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

ok, i lied.

the shatner thing could use further explication.

from roger catlin's "tv eye" blog:

Capt. Kirk, Shill
Weird to see William Shatner in late night commercials where Robert Vaughn used to be, hawking the work of the law firm of Mark E. Salomone & Morellli.
Shatner’s been an effective pitchman before, but mostly in an ironic way where he can use his well-honed self-spoofing style, best used on a series of Priceline.com spots.
But it’s odd to see the man who has most recently won two consecutive Emmys portraying a buffoonish attorney who repeats his name constantly -- “Denny Crane, Denny Crane” – shilling for a law firm without a shred of humor.
“Tell them: you mean business” he intones with a sneer.
Better he repeat their name, Denny Crane-style: Mark E. Salomone! Mark E. Salomone!”

bill shatner is now appearing on commercials for the law offices of mark e. salomone.

that's all that needs to be said.

Monday, December 05, 2005

broke my hip on rock salad

checked out a friend of a friend's cover band, rock salad, on saturday night at copperfield's for their first gig. like a soft-serve, office place-friendly radio station, they played the hits of the 60's, 70's and 80's, though to their credit they pulled off their chosen tunes with a bit more gusto then your typical bar band. one of the highlights of the evening was when they played a medley of songs that use essentially the same progression, segueing from "hang on, sloopy" to "the joker" to a third song that escapes my recollection now and finishing off with "beverly hills" for a nod to modern pop.

there's a funny age dynamic at work in the group: the lead vocalist (my acquaintance) is 28, while the rest of the guys, particularly those in the rhythm section, look to be pushing into their mid-forties -- think INXS's current line-up. not surprisingly, this same age discrepancy was echoed in the audience demographic, with middle-aged spouses, friends and family members rubbing elbows with the young supporters that had come to see their friend sing and other assorted twenty-somethings out for a night on the town. as the night wound on and people got progressively more sauced, many of the older women in the crowd started getting down with their bad selves, first in isolated little pockets, giggling amongst themselves as they found their rhythm, then later congregating as a force that took over the area immediately in front of the stage, sassing it up and sashaying with the younger drunk guys on the dance floor and really digging on the vocalist's god-of-rock posturing. the whole thing was a little surreal; the scene resembled a swinging wedding reception impossibly crammed into a juking neighborhood watering hole.

still -- and i can't think of a less corny way to put this -- there was something oddly touching about all those one-time teeny-boppers dancing the night away with an abandon that would have one believe that time had never interfered in their lives.

or could it be both?

i never could decide whether, in the grand scheme of his expressive facial hair, burt's mustache acts as a third eyebrow, or if those two pitch-perfect accoutrements adorning his strong brow are like extra 'staches.

in any event, let's be honest: burt is really neither shocked nor distressed in the above shot.

Friday, December 02, 2005

hello, polly jean harvey

Thursday, December 01, 2005

who is the bunco man?!?

"bunco man" is another way of saying con artist. "bunco man" is also the name my brother will be performing under this sunday night at all asia cafe in cambridge.

justin is no con man.

neither am i.

hope to see you all there!

for those about to rock