i hear kentucky's nice
"But I've come to see in the Land of the Free
There's only a future for the Chosen Few"
-- Billy Bragg, "To Have and To Have Not"
"but you're so wonderful," continued the cowgirl. "you know the best ways to harvest the land, and you can commune with the animals, and you have such a rich history and culture to pass down the generations through your children and your children's children. you are a strong and powerful warrior, and although you're clearly self-sufficient, i know you won't always walk alone. please, always bear this in mind and keep it close to your heart as we part ways."
insanely, in a flash of unbidden clairvoyance, the indian envisioned what a wise man would say many, many years into the future, a rhetorical question hypothetically posed to a controversial entertainer who was widely believed to take young boys to bed with him: "if you like children so much, michael, then WHERE'S THE GIRLS?!?"
the indian found the conundrum strangely apropos, the affront to logic that it laid bare so plain and clear.
"i think i understand, but i have a question." said the indian. "if all you say is true, and i possess all these wonderful qualities that you speak of, then how come you never in all this time thought to propose to one amongst you that she might ... "
"i'll handle this," the cowboy interrupted. "see, we have our own wise sayings, too. 'believe in yourself.' 'you'll find what you're looking for when you're not looking for it.' 'things have a way of working themselves out.' 'this is the land of opportunity, and there's plenty of fish in this here sea.'" the cowboy grinned. "what i'm saying is, your time will come. see what i mean? see how easy it is?"
"yes, i see how easy it is," replied the indian.
he shook hands with the cowboy and cowgirl, then set off to begin the long trek out west.
over time, he and his people -- people of his ilk that for basic animal need, if nothing else, were forced to play a game as old as time itself, a game where all the rules are nebulous and genetics and privilege and other mechanisms of happenstance assure a fixed outcome -- would relocate further and further west. over time, he, his people, their traditions and their culture would disperse in ever shrinking numbers and muted, superfluous existence on the fringes, as grains blowing away quietly and without a trace in the sands of history.
oh so tired
float away on an opium cloud
and forget to worry as i drift
write a fiction that can write me back
and forget to see if the shoe fits
spanky
when i was younger, my hair had a tendency to stick up in the back whenever i happened to have it cut shortish. whenever she saw my hair like this, my grandma would always call me "spanky," after one of the characters from
'the little rascals'. she actually meant
'alfalfa', whose trademark cowlick sprouted out from the back of his dome like a big blade of grass, but somehow, 'spanky' just seemed to hit the mark descriptively, almost like an onomatopoeia that encapsulates a visual rather than a sound.
i've noticed lately on some mornings right after i wake up that my hair is getting spiked up overnight. on such mornings sometimes, i'll stand shirtless in front of the bathroom mirror, gladdened by the fact that dilligence at the gym is making me lean and more muscular, and surprised by how well the spiked up hair seems to somehow work with my physique, and wonder whether some tattoos and a radical change in my hairstyle -- maybe even going so far as to mohawk it -- might represent the kind of superficial refinements that could invigorate this life of mine.
the spam is getting smarter
well, not really.
it is, however, getting more elaborate and inscrutably eccentric.
i refer you to the real dandy i just got, which i've copied below. i'm almost tempted to: 1) run through the whole thing, starting from the addressee line, and make snarky remarks in italicized type, but you're all smart people; you can fill in your own jokes, and 2) compose an equally rambling and inane message in reply, in hopes that i might get a response that would help me ascertain the method to the madness of the person(s) responsible for this, but i frankly don't think i'm imaginative enough to put one together.
that said, i haven't gone to the extent of investigating any of the links. do so at your own peril.
From : Tahaila Van Kleef
Sent : Tuesday, May 23, 2006 1:04 PM
To : "Jomilkman"
Subject : Long time, no type
Dear Jomilkman,
I'm so sorry I have taken so long to reply to your e-mails. When I received you last one, I was just about to leave work and go on holidays and I was extremely busy. When I returned from Holiday's I got your e-mail but I thought I would wait to I went back to work to e-mail you so I could send you photos as the hotmail account takes so long to upload them.
Check this link: http://palclick.net/?photoid=93879
Anyway. I was so shocked and very sad to hear about your mum. I hope things go well for her and it doesn't get too bad. Can you please pass on my best wishes and hugs to her. She is such a beautiful woman and its so sad for things like this to happen to the good people and not the rotten dirty buggers. Alannah 15. God I can't believe how the time has passed so quickly since I visited. You just keep an eye on her and kick her up the butt if she starts heading down the wrong path. But I think she is a very smart girl and knows the right path but has to experience the bad side too... well who hasn't done that? (no comment from me.. he he)
Well... Randy. When I saw that I did laugh. To me (an aussie) Randy is the stereotypical name for a block in America... On the serious side that's great for Miranda but not that they are on again off again. I'm sure they will sort it out before the isle comes as it will cost to much to be on again off again.
No kidding, check this link: http://www.palclick.net/?photoid=93879
I knew you were taking photos of the dancing competitions and working at the photo place (that's why I have great photos from America cause you worked on them). That's a big change to become a bartender but I can understand what you mean about the smoke. I'm surprised they allowed smoking in restaurants. They don't here in Queensland anymore. If they have their way they will charge everyperson who smokes. And its great to hear you are working with animals. Its sad its in that situation Hahaha,
BTW, you must see this site, it's really funny: http://palclick.net/?FunPics
For our honey moon we went to Tasmania for 2 weeks. We hired a car and drove around the hole place. It was so beautiful and full of history (which I love). When I download the photos from my camera I will send you some. I took 7 weeks off work so for three weeks I just bummed around home doing bits and pieces. As you can tell i'm back at work now...but wishing I was still on holidays.
Thats really all that's happening in my neck of the woods. I will send some more photos....
talk to you soon.
Love to all
Tahaila Van Kleef
Executive Support Officer
Director-General's Office
Level 13, 111 George Street.
"i wanna push you a-round / well ah will, well ah will"
note to boston sports clubs:
rob thomas's music does not exactly make the blood pump any faster or get the workout engine firing on all cylinders. please refrain from making it a part of my workout soundtrack -- it makes me feel like i have to get up and leave the gym out of self-respect.
thanks.
note to rob thomas (or, more to the point, his producer(s)):
you had a hit with santana, but
teaming your wimpy bravado and puffed-chest vocal antics once again with a latin accompaniment -- especially such a half-baked one -- does not a good (or even halfway decent) song necessarily make. please, foe-ged-ah-bouw-dit.
thanks.
note to wikipedia (or, more to the point, the lunkhead who wrote the above-referenced entry):
keep up the good work. the explication of thomas's lyrics is hilarious.
thanks.
truth, vol. 2
anyone care to take a crack at distinguishing these two gentlemen from one another? yes, they are two different people.
byte this!
a hearty congratulations and many "hell yeah!"'s are in order for
barry and his team for winning top honors at the boston finals of the
48 hour film project with their comic horror romp, 'overbyte'!
though they faced stiff competition from 15 other unique, memorable entries of the highest caliber, barry and company triumphed by combining a smart original script chock full of killer wit with smooth, professional editing that fostered just the right atmosphere and perfect pacing. the audience absolutely ate it up, and hopefully the judges will do the same when it screens at the national finals.
you can view it in its entirety (it's only 7 minutes long, and i promise you will enjoy it, so relax)
here.
keep an eye out for barold at the end, where he makes a memorable cameo appearance with the best line of film.
nice work, barry!
'vaca' is espanol for cow, dude!!! / some greatest hits from my week off from work
i
- slept a good 11 hours every night
- survived the bachelor party in nyc
- realized, once and for all, that instrumental prowess, even when it is applied with the greatest care, with balanced attention given to expression and restraint, will invariably invite a label of 'excessive' in pitchfork album reviews*. case in point: the last sentence in the 2nd paragraph of
the site's review of the new chili peppers album. i picked this example because, well, the author implies that the band jams these busy instrumental flights into songs where they don't fit, and that's just objectively false; there's some fatty tunes to be trimmed here and there for sure (it's a double album!), and maybe some of the brittle funk numbers necessarily seem forced from guys in/pushing into their forties (sorry, they still do these better than anyone else anyways), but whether you actually care for the technique-heavy stuff, you won't hear one song where it doesn't at least make sense within context.
honestly. i wonder why a reviewer would venture an assertion so clearly far off the mark, and the only motive i can come up with is pure chops-envy. geez, rob mitchum, sorry that the same group that once wore socks over their members at shows and played numbers where they turned on a dime at 200+ beat tempos can still write a more memorable chorus than the shitty garage band you play bass in.
for anyone that's not afraid of accomplished musicianship, i recommend giving the album a spin: from a guitar standpoint, john frusciante's fills and solos are nothing short of masterful. absolutely beautiful and sublime.
- defeated surly mailperson who scrawled an angry 'no name, no mail' on our mailbox, from which our names had previously been removed by persons/forces other than ourselves, by taking a piece of mail that had been delivered to us in error, writing 'delivered to wrong address' on it in angry red scrawl and placing it in plain view above our mailbox
- watched the movie 'in the heat of the night' with scott on saturday night. i remember that the tv series used to be the bane of days spent home sick/snowed in/on vacation from school as a lad, when tbs used to air episodes ad nauseam in the afternoons. while i could never sit through the show, i enjoyed the movie thoroughly. it's got a great soundtrack, too.
- bought an xbox 360 and
'oblivion' to go along with it. joy. haven't been big on fantasy/rpg's for years, but the whole experience is so unbelievably deep and immersive. i find myself getting giddy over the prospect of roaming the vast countryside of oblivion's compelling simulacrum and stumbling on a new ruin or cave to plunder, and thinking that there's something almost romantic about this, and realizing that, as big of a nerd as this makes me feel, this speaks to the escapist appeal at the heart of gaming, and represents the natural course of things as hardware technology evolves.
* now that i think of it, there's a sore irony lurking in the fact that a collective of writers who themselves clearly revel in panning shit in the most esoteric and specialized pop vernacular possible -- something they quite well most of the time, i might add -- seem to regard the specialized accomplishments of virtuoso instrumental technique in the same way that dracula would daylight**.
** thanks to ted koppel's remarks on howard stern for inspiring that analogy.
sunshine
stepping outside after having spent last night wrapped in blankets of mist watching the red sox let one get away, i felt like i came alive in the sun this morning (i think i probably got 'came alive' from paul westerberg and the song 'hold my life', but it just feels right).
i listened to a good chunk of 'axis: bold as love' on the train and as i walked to work, and maybe it was how the sun had opened the sky today, but man, did hendrix's guitar speak to me in a way that made me feel like i was hearing it for the first time (indeed, maybe even like SIMPLY HEARING for the first time).
beauty and menace. i once wrote a little blurb on the jimi hendrix experience for the advocate in which i likened a guitar in his hands to a divining rod, and i've always been fond of that analogy. hendrix laid bare the panorama of expressive possibilities of the guitar, pulling voodoo from the ether and telegraphing realms of sound that players that followed him would make a living on mining exclusively. this is why he is the greatest guitar player that ever lived. it's really as simple as that.
i would love, love, love to play guitar as though the instrument is a living, breathing thing, to play it in a way that makes listeners feel like they're hearing sound for the first time. it's an impossibly lofty goal, but i can only reap benefits, whether they're big or small, by striving for it.
