Risible People

A List Of Movies that I Will Stop Everything and Watch Even if I Have a Million things to do.

2010-04-03T12:20:00.000-07:00

1. Back to the Future
2. Groundhog's Day
3. Ghostbusters
4. The 40 Year Old Virgin
5. Mean Girls
6. Good Fellas
7. Wet Hot American Summer
8. Terminator 2
9. Wall-E
10. The Dark Knight

Return To Danger Mountain

2010-03-01T20:59:00.000-08:00

(For those in the know, my tumblr is infinitely more active than this guy, but, as I said, I am only using blogger for long winded exercises in futility and art. This is something that I wrote more or less on my own and later adapted it to be placed inside Perry Meridian High School's Creative Art's magazine this year.)

Return To Danger Mountain
By Eric Andrew Overton

“The arts are not a way to make a living.”
- Kurt Vonnegut

It never fails to amaze me how bleakly we opened Danger Mountain. “I mean, I know we just spent seven months putting this book together – good job on that, by the way – but we’re not going to ever make a dime on this stuff in real life, kiddos. Good hustle though.” It is just infinitely depressing how hard it is to make a movie or get a record deal or to get your painting in a respectable gallery. Books are a little easier. Not by much though.
You know all those bins at Wal-Mart and CVS that have all those really terrible movies for five dollars? They were you once. Seriously. They wanted to tell stories and move people and change the world. It’s just changing the world doesn’t always have the best health insurance.
Several days after I started my freshman year of high school, my dad called me into his bedroom one night to show me a clip from some movie he was watching. Eventually, talking about that clip turned into a discussion about “your future,” and “college,” and all that.
During that time, I played bass guitar every day. I’d put on an album, and play it from start to finish, playing along, learning all the tracks. Probably up until senior year, I would play The Rolling Stones’ Let It Bleed from start to finish every month, playing and learning all the subtle nuances of Bill Wyman’s performance. I am a good bass player. I’m not bragging. But I was incredibly disciplined.
Eventually, my dad said something like, “Well, have you thought about what college you want to go to?” and I said something like, “I don’t know if I want to go to school. I think I might just move down to Nashville and be a session musician,” and he said something like, “You have no idea what you are talking about. Session musicians are machines. They know every scale, every chord, and can play jazz, country, or funk at the drop of a hat. They read music. They don’t have health insurance.”
And with that, I kind of knew I was never going to be able to be a musician. Not, at least, without breaking my parent’s hearts.
This last semester, I took a class called “Creative Environments.” It was a small class - maybe ten or twelve people - and it was taught by this delightful, short, Indian man with a white beard and a bald head. He has a clock on the wall in his office from Barcelona, and he says it is one of his favorite things. He had worked a lot of jobs, he told us, and felt constricted by bosses that he hated. Eventually, he weaseled his way into grad school and academia, because he just wanted to sit around and ask big questions all day. And one of his favorite questions is, “Where, and how does, creativity happen?”
The hardest part of the class, I came to find, were these synthesis papers that we had to write. We had to find a common theme throughout all these varied creative environments, and write five to six pages on them. The thing is, these environments are all over the place. In the first unit alone we talked about Paris, SoHo, Silicon Valley, Jazz, and Second City in Chicago. And the thing is, the answer to that question - “How does creativity happen?” - is that it is different everywhere. It’s not one set answer. Some places are open. Some are closed. Sometimes people work very closely with each other. Sometimes alone. Sometimes from nine to five. Sometimes from five to nine. No good answers.
Everything I learned in that class I have written for you here:
Creative people are machines. They don’t stop. They don’t give up. They really give a damn. And they don’t ever stop.

…

Dark room photography is such a fickle art. Much more than any art, it is a depressing and completely consuming combination of light, time, energy, and money – and once false move can make it all turn black. I often wonder why I ever got into it, considering how frustrating it can be. But it is also amazingly rewarding. When it comes out perfect… There’s no good way to describe it. With sculpture, painting, and drawing, you are constantly making changes on the fly. You are shaping and molding and changing as you go. With photography, you take one photo once, and later on, you try to make it physical. You tweek, you print, you throw it away, and you tweek some more. The creative part comes so early - choosing what to photograph. It’s easy to forget why you even took that photo in the first place, and you are just trying to make sure the contrast is right and the darks are dark enough and the whites are pure and making sure there isn’t any dust or scratches on your negative. One becomes so enraptured with the movements and the timing; the deep visceral thrill of seeing a white piece of paper produce a face or a building or a tree. So it’s easy to understand why there are so many good print makers, and so many bad photographers.
I’m in an art school now. It’s not a great one, but they give us all the resources we need, and pretty much let us do as we will. In the photography department, perhaps more than others, the content of your art is solely up to you. However, they want to see ideas explored, concepts considered, which generally means you end up shooting rolls and rolls of similar things. They’re not just looking for good prints, which is frustrating for a simple ol’ guy like me, who just likes the smell of developer, and likes taking pictures of things on the side of the road, or pretty girls. I guess those aren’t good enough concepts.

…

“Man in Theatre Line: It just so happens I teach a class at Columbia called "TV, Media and Culture." So I think my insights into Mr. McLuhan, well, have a great deal of validity!
Alvy Singer: Oh, do ya? Well, that's funny, because I happen to have Mr. McLuhan right here, so, so, yeah, just let me... [pulls McLuhan out from behind a nearby poster]... Come over here for a second... tell him!
Marshall McLuhan: I heard what you were saying! You know nothing of my work! ...How you got to teach a course in anything is totally amazing!”
- Annie Hall

“Where is my wife and family? / What if I die here? / I don’t want to end up a cartoon in a cartoon grave yard.”
- Paul Simon, “You Can Call Me Al”

…

So you come up with a concept. Say, you want to talk about irrational fears, like your body turning into a squid, or your head turning into a balloon. Something silly, but irrational. And you work really hard on these photos. Make ‘em shine. And one day, you slap ‘em up on a wall, and let everyone take a look. And what is your reward? Criticism. You get people talking about themes and principles of design. About God and racism, and things you didn’t know that you even photographed. I mean, you just thought this stuff was funny, and you just wanted to make a funny project. But no, apparently everyone else knows your work better than you do, and it is all about death.
That happened to me.
But that’s just at a student level. Let say you make a major motion picture, and everyone from the Indy Star to the New York Times writes a review. “Well paced and entertaining, but ultimately vapid. Wonderful cinematography, 3.5 Stars.”
The thing about movies is, they cost a whole lot. They take a whole lot of people to put together. People putting up lights, running sound, feeding mouths. If you’re a passionate man, you will have put your heart into it for months. And then Geoff Berkshire of the Indy Star will reduce your romantic epic into five hundred words or less.
And let’s just say, hypothetically, you get really, really, really famous. You are Hemmingway, Picasso, or Martin Scorsese. People right books about you. And they say things like, “Well, New York, New York is one of Scorsese’s minor works, and is not essential viewing. The themes are weak and the plotting is off, and it is too long. It is an interesting failure.”
“An interesting failure.” Bleh. The worst. You work on something for a year, or years, and someone says, “Oh, this guy is good, but that isn’t very good. It’s a minor work.” It’s not a minor work to you. Just because it may not be as good as your other work doesn’t mean that you don’t still attach memories to it, or love it, or think about it. It was still important to you, you know, at least during one moment. Unless you’re a heartless freak, you have to care about the things you do. Just because it’s not brilliant doesn’t mean it doesn’t mean something.

…

“I do what I do and you do what you can do about it.”
- Lil Wayne, “A Milli”

…

I don’t know why I do art, or am attracted to its processes. It’s practically compulsive, or divine. I just can’t help myself sometimes! And it’s too bad, because I’m kind of awful at it. It’s a burden, a cross to bear. I just don’t think I’m very good at this stuff. I’m a sloppy painter, a poor drawer. My photographs aren’t very deep. I have run-ons and typos. I’m overly sentimental, weepy and moaning. I’m achingly and embarrassingly truthful, sometimes. For proof, please see nearly anything I wrote in the original Danger Mountain.
It’s just too bad I have such disdain for most other things. I’m limping through a Spanish class right now, because I have no. Interest. At. All. Math is a bore and I have no desire to teach, and Lord knows I’ve had plenty of teachers with no desire to teach.
It is inexhaustibly hard to think about what you are going to do with the rest of your life. It is made harder by having people tell you that you don’t have any idea what you want, and that you have no idea where you are going to end up. All these things are true, and they aren’t. If you are reading this, you are probably in High School. You are probably reading things like On The Road or Catcher in the Rye, or are learning about the Romantics and you probably want to move to Los Angles and be famous or move out in the woods and write write write. It’s just that these things… they just aren’t practical. They don’t put food in your mouth and they sometimes leave you broken. It’s a tough racket.
The thing is, though, despite what Jack Kerouac might tell you, life is long. Save for diseases or car accidents, it’s hard to die young unless you really, really want to.
The summer after I graduated high school, I came up with and outlined four ideas for four full-length motion pictures. I walked into my dorm room with a yellow legal pad full of scribbled notes about who does what during which scene. And I decided on the first day of classes that in my life I was going to make these four films. But the more I read about making movies, and the more I started working on these outlines, the more I realized that this was probably not going to happen. And a strange thing happened – I became completely O.K. with these movies existing only in my head.
I’ve changed my life’s goals. I understand that I’m only three years removed from High School, and that I am no longer a “High School Punk,” but rather a “Fresh College-Educated snob,” and that my life goals are bound to change tomorrow, but I’ve come up with this – I’m going to get a steady job somewhere. Period. During the nights and on the weekends I’m going to spend my extra cash on something. Period. I will feed my wife and children, and I will buy a new refrigerator when the old one breaks. But I will make at least one wonderful and beautiful thing in my life, and I will share it with at least one other person. I want that one thing to be good, objectively delightful, and I will die with a smile on my face knowing that I made one thing that made one person feel something. Because it all really comes down to this: my Creative Environments professor pointed out that most conversation is meaningless. You always talk about the weather because you all agree, yes, there is weather and it has been nice or bad or rainy or dry. But art is a chance to actually say something that you want to say. It is for you, and for you alone. If someone else gets it, than there is nothing more rewarding in the world. It’s not snobbish, it’s not pretentious, and it’s not silly or frivolous. It is something that is shared with mankind, and that alone is something that can keep a man warm at night.

“The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”
- Kurt Vonnegut

2010-01-18T21:58:00.000-08:00

I don't know who still reads this, but I am using Tumblr again. I will still use this for longer posts, but I am going to try to update my Tumblr everyday.

HOT DAMN!

http://rictone.tumblr.com/

2010-01-10T17:51:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite phrases died today.

I heard a terrible, terrible thing. There are worse things. Yes. But it literally made me sick to my stomach, and I literally just had to leave my house.

And I don't know what made me have such a reaction. It was definitely and over reaction, but I physically felt ill, and could not stop thinking about it. I still can't, and I still feel kind of sick.

The only thing that could get my mind off of it was (momentarily) was music. This, to be exact:

I went to a friend's house and watched Mean Girls. Good movie. Seriously. And I helped me stop thinking about it. But I still kept thinking about it.

I guess what I'm saying is that I've never felt more disgusted by anything, and the only thing that helped me get through it was a movie about high school and a guy rapping about smoking weed and life.

And this when I got home:

2010-01-05T11:57:00.001-08:00

Somehow I ended up talking about Alanis Morrisette's song "Ironic" on facebook with some friends, and I thought I'd put it here too, so it can stay up for all of e-eternity.

FUN FACT: In the Summer of 1997 (AKA, THE SUMMER OF ALANIS), I went to summer day-camp in Broad Ripple because my mom worked for the School for the Blind, which was in Broad Ripple. Each week of the camp was a different theme, and one week, the theme was "Talent Show" (Other themes: "Cartoons," "Animals,"). Every camper had to present a talent at the end of the week, and each camp group had to sing a song. For my personal talent, I did prop magic (AKA, magic that anyone can do if they have the right props). Our group, however, did something more spectacular. Yes, my dear readers. Something more spectacular than MAGIC (performed by a ten year old).

I don't know how it came up, but we all decided to sing a parody of Alanis' "Ironic," changing all the lyrics to camp related tragedies. Most of the lyrics have been lost to the folds of time, but one stays with me to this day:

"It's like going to the pool / And then it rains."

So imagine, if you will, seven children, all wearing over-sized red t-shirts, singing a parody of "Ironic" with camp-related lyrics, all of key. Some of us had hotdogs in our hands, because it was also grill-out day. Also, we sang over the original recording because we didn't have a karaoke version. So we were basically screaming over the original version, with pieces of hotdogs in our mouths.

It's a beautiful thing.

I'm excited.

2010-01-03T11:41:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, my friend Matt told me about Google Goggles, an application that allows you to take a photo of almost anything and then get information about that thing. Take a picture of a bank, and Google Goggles will get you it's address, hours, etc. Take a picture of a book cover, get a synopsis. Cool stuff, cool stuff.

Up until today, I had never really messed around with any of Google's services other than Translations and Gmail. But, just out of curiosity, I started messing around with Google Docs. I was both excited and terrified.

I love the idea that most of the reasons that I carry my laptop to campus are slowly being put up in the air. The idea that I don't have to support something as dumb as Microsoft Office - making sure that I don't send a .docx instead of .doc to my professor - is something that I'm very excited about. Coupled with Google's Chrome OS and Netbooks, everything is getting decentralized and mobile. It will be fast. It will be easy. My dad will be able to understand it.

The scary part is that it isn't really decentralized. Google does this stuff so well, and no one can really compete. Reading about the "Googlephone" is kind of frustrating, because it seems like Google wants to try to do something cool, but needs some help, and everyone is kind of grumbling to themselves. If Google continues to do things by themselves, there is no reason why they couldn't also become a monster. There no reason why they can't become self-serving, or start charging for all this stuff. There is no reason why they couldn't become a monopoly. And one company controlling our phones and internets and e-mails is pretty 1984.

Still, the geek in me is excited that someday, in my GoogleHome, the GoogleWalls will tell me when I get a new Gmail, and I can dictate a response while I am in the GoogleShower.

I am sincerely excited for the day where I can wash my ass and send a thank-you note to my mother at the same time.

Five Videogames from the Last Ten Years that Will Make Your Soul Grow

2009-12-25T23:16:00.000-08:00

1. Majora's Mask

One of the great joys of games is the illusion of freedom. You know there is a linear path, but the idea that you might be able to do anything you want is what makes games so interesting. There is an end. There is a path.

The strange thing that Majora's Mask does is beat you over the head with that. You have three days to save the world. You can go back, but you know that somewhere, in some parallel universe, everyone died. You didn't save everyone. And you can't.

What the game does fantastically is paint a lot of broad and subtle strokes. Broad in the sense that YOU HAVE THREE DAYS, OR EVERYONE DIES. But the game's nuances come from The Bomber's Notebook, which is basically a list of people that you have to help. There are a lot of simple, silly stories in the game, like the dead dancer that wants his moves to live on forever, as well as deep stories, like the Kafie/Anju side story, where a lot of things are said about appearances and guilt.

In the end though, you get sucked up by the moon, and that scene above plays out. The game asks a lot about friendships and relationships between people, what they mean, and are they worth it if the world is going to end in three days. In the end, the game asks you to surrender all your masks, everything that you worked so hard for. It's a sly move for a blockbuster game.

2. Portal

"This next test is impossible."

There are two characters in this game, and one of them does not talk. Three if you count the companion cube. I can't even begin to describe how endlessly creative the puzzles in this game are, and how well the game's misdirection works. It is literally an experience that you have to sit though. I have no idea how Valve made the destroying a cube one of the most tear jerking moments in gaming history.

3. Snake Eater

For as broad as Metal Gear Solid appears at first glance, the games are certainly strange. It's like a Bond movie with mysticism. And in many ways, this game plays out just like a Bond film, or an action movie. You can go in guns blazing or try to sneak up on everyone. The final boss probably goes on too long, but if you're in the moment, it seems like a heartbeat.

4. Shadow of the Colossus

Like Portal, this is more of a Puzzle game that you just so happen to have a sword in. In all honesty, what good is a sword against a giant beast? Whenever you try to stab a Colossus, it looks like a butter knife is going into a hippopotamus. And that's the point. You don't go in guns blazing. You have to spend time with these giants, and recognize patterns and places to crawl. You kind of get to know them. The strange thing is, after you defeat one, it's not really a victory. The collapse and let out a roar, but it's not a win. You just killed something giant. You just killed something kind of beautiful.

5. Vice City

Teal and pink, palm trees, and Flock of Seagulls. More than any other GTA game, I feel like Vice City contains a full fleshed out and devoted world. While San Andreas and GTA4 are probably better games, I feel like they aren't as contained as this one. The world feels closed, and a little stronger. I can't say much for the missions - I don't remember them - but I can honestly say that I liked being in this hyper-violent, rollerskating, neon world for hours on end.

The Two Best Viral Videos of '09

2009-12-23T23:27:00.001-08:00

2. Guy Sings and Smokes in the shower.

I can't even begin to explain how this video cracks me up EVERY DAMN TIME. He pauses to smoke. And then forgets what he was doing. And then remembers.

1. BANGS, BANGS, BANGS!

I felt bad about this, until he became famous. He's so painfully earnest and happy, I can't help but think that we're all laughing with him. Real things he said during an interview:

"Hip hop is in my heart and soul, I'm so happy."
"But it's not easy doing what I do. They are just saying that because they don't know how to make music."
"I just do my thing. Let them talk."

AND THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING I HAVE EVER READ:

"Bangs said his songs had earned him a very eager female following -- with many asking him out on dates.
'Now they want to take me to the movies!' he said."

2009-12-22T13:04:00.000-08:00

Things that don't bother me about Avatar:
-Ridiculous character design.
-Wonky dialogue and acting.
-Mech-Warriors carrying knives.
-Bullshit new age score.
-Naked Sigourney Weaver. (Hubba-hubba)
-That it was a complete waste of $500 Million dollars.

Something that pisses me off to no end about Avatar:
-That Sam Worthington was better at being an alien than the aliens were.

C'mon son.

2009-12-20T17:42:00.000-08:00

Let's go roller skating.

I am a DJ, and this is a roller skating mixtape.

MP3: http://www.divshare.com/download/9852047-923
ACC/MPG4: http://www.divshare.com/download/9852048-2d6

37:06 min

Don't Stop the Rock - Freestyle
Bizarre Love Triangle (Shep Pettibone Extended Dance Mix) - New Order
Just Can't Get Enough - Depeche Mode
Groove Is In The Heart - Deeee-lite
Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough - Michael Jackson
Move Your Feet - Junior Senior
Cool It Now - New Edition
A Roller Skating Jam Named "Saturdays" - De La Soul
Good Times - Chic
Do The Whirlwind - Architecture In Helsinki
More Bounce to the Ounce - Zapp & Roger
Little Secrets - Passion Pit
Got Your Money - Ol' Dirty Bastard
Miss You (Dr. Dre Remix) - The Rolling Stones
The Breaks - Kurtis Blow
Kiss - Prince
Animal - Miike Snow
Sweet 16 - Thunderheist
Love Gun - Rick James
Music Sounds Better With You - Stardust
Love At First Sight - Kylie Minogue
September - Earth Wind & Fire
Walking On A Dream - Empire of the Sun
Make Love / Alive - Daft Punk

2009-12-10T08:36:00.001-08:00

I guess the question I have to ask myself at this point is,

"Do you really want to express yourself, or do you just want to be around the things you like?"

How do I work this?

2009-12-08T22:00:00.000-08:00

Talking Heads This Must be the Place
Uploaded by Celtiemama. - Watch more music videos, in HD!

For the longest time, I thought the phrases "This song changed my life" or "This song saved my life" were kind of goofy and exaggerated statements. Everything influences everything, I suppose, but save for car accidents or debilitating diseases, things kind of push you in one direction slowly, easing into paths, like grass in the wind. It just seems silly to split your life into two parts over something as frivolous and fleeting (though wonderful and rapturous) as a pop song.

But I'm a liar and a hypocrite. It is very possible that without those two songs above, I would be a completely different person. Without hearing the phrase, "How did I get here?" I'm not sure I would have ever stopped to think about it. I would have never thought about every little path that I've taken to get to where I am right now. And when you graduate high school, that's probably an important thing to think about. To think about all the brilliant and evil things you have done in your life for the last 18 years. To think about them hard, to wish them away, and grasp for something better.

Every six months I listen to those songs. Rarely do I seek them out - they kind of just appear in the room. And it's like seeing an old friend. It feels nice.

I am listening to "Once in a Lifetime" again right now. It is three years later, and I am 21. I am on the verge of the cusp of graduation college. I will soon be kicked out on the streets, scrambling for cash and a job. It is almost a new decade.

I have a gut. I no girlfriend. I am limping through these last few weeks of classes.

And starting January 1st, 2009, I am going to start running.

Same as it ever was.

2009-12-06T19:53:00.000-08:00

That is the price of being brilliant.

This whole weekend I've been listening to the late J Dilla's The Shining, and wondering why I had never sought this guy out before. Every now and then I'll run across something that I like a lot, and will geek over it for a while. But when I heard that album... I literally felt like I've been missing out.

His production style is something that I've never heard before. A lot of The Shining has so much soul. Listen to this, please.

Love Jones - J Dilla

It's heartbreaking. And it makes me sad. It makes me angry to know that even if you make something that brilliant, that there is a chance, that for NO FUCKING REASON, you will get some disease that reduces blood flow in your body, forcing you to lose weight and perform in a wheel chair, and have your heart seize up and die.

I just don't get this world sometimes.

2009-11-26T15:46:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving.

And now onto Christmas. This is my favorite Christmas thing EVER.

2009-11-25T13:23:00.000-08:00

I know exactly what this trailer is doing. I have mixed feelings about it, but I think some of the dialogue is just fantastic. "Life is wasted on people." "I hope I die before I meet any of you at a job interview." Toss on "All My Friends," and I'm set. I'll pay my nine dollars, in my over-priced American Apparel t-shirt, and like it.

I'm 21, but I feel so old. Everything from high school seems so far in the past.

But at the same time, I went out to some bars in Broad Ripple with Matt and David, and I felt very young. Very out of place. But then this girl started dancing. She is probably the worst dancer I'd ever seen. She was in time... but it seriously looked like a piece of perforamce art.

And we started making fun of her, and I realized, I don't think I've changed too much since high school. I don't think we've changed that much since high school. But we're still O.K. We've still got like, what, sixty more years to go? There's plenty of time for garbage like change and love. Plenty of time. I'm gonna enjoy this while it lasts.

An Alphabetical List of People that I Really Miss that I haven't spoken to in at least a Year.

2009-11-11T11:30:00.001-08:00

Sherry Birken - Michael's Co-Worker, would sing "Little Red Corvette" by Prince with me, understood and tolerated my sense of humor. Dated a cage fighter, who was also a nice guy.

Mike Bozarth - Perverse, deadpan and hilarious, went missing from my life far too soon. One of the kindest smiles and most amazing beards ever known to man. Might be the one I miss most here.

Mary Crawford - Tall, slow. Incredibly sweet person, also not bad looking.

Sarah Huck - Diabetic, goofy. The kind of person you would want taking care of you at a hospital.

Becky McClain - Crazy sexy cool.

Jacqueline McGlynn - Somewhere between Crawford and Huck, probably will make the perfect mother.

2009-11-05T14:48:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I see something, and I think, "Damnit, why didn't I think of that first?"

And I know this video falls into that big pile of "cute girls on youtube doing indie covers of classic songs." But I like it, and I think it's a genuine and fantastic re-imaging of a great song.

2009-10-29T01:07:00.000-07:00

I just can't get over that.

Busy days ahead. I wouldn't check this place until Thanksgiving or Winter Break, if I were you.

Coming Soon:

- My Top 20 Best Albums of the '00s
- The Ten Most Important Albums of the '00s
- My Top 100 Songs of the '00s
- The Ten Most Important TV Shows of the '00s
- The Ten Most Important Movies of the '00s
- My Top Ten Movies of the '00s
- The Top 25 Music Videos of the '00s
- My Love Affair with Jeff Wall and Cindy Sherman, or, Constructing Realities
- Return To Danger Mountain or, Everyone is a Vampire and You Should Just Quit Now

Wallowing.

2009-10-23T22:47:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when you're down, the best thing to do, or the only thing to do, is listen or watch or read something that was created something while as equally blue. Wallowing. Sometimes it's just nice to know that someone as sad or lonely as you can also get a record contract or a movie deal.

Case and point - Mark Kozelek. I probably got into his music in the reverse of how most people found him. I bought Sun Kil Moon's April on a whim, and listened to it over and over again during a particularly snowy and personally rough winter. The whole album is so achingly beautiful and rustic, like pictures of wet farms shot in sepia. Some mornings, I would just listen to "The Light" over and over again, thinking about where I was and what I was doing. And I would feel better.

The Light - Sun Kil Moon

Next, I bought Finally, a collection of rarities, covers, and oddities recorded over the years. This I listened to during a particularly wet spring, and would drive around blaring Mark's re-imagined "If You Want Blood" as drops of rain splattered over everything.

If You Want Blood - Mark Kozel...

Last week, I bought the album where everything started - Red House Painter's Songs for a Blue Guitar. Like everything Kozelek has done, it's painful and arresting. He somehow managed to make Paul McCartney's "Silly Love Songs," sound like a death march.

But Jesus, I think the song "Have You Forgotten" was written exactly for me, exactly for now. I don't know if I've ever heard lyrics more nostalgic and exactly right as these. It's just breathtaking.

I can't let you be
'Cause your beauty won't allow me
Wrapped in white sheets
Like an angel from a bedtime story
Shut out what they say
'Cause your friends are fucked up anyway
And when they come around
Somehow they feel up and you feel down

When we were kids
We hated things our parents did
We listened low
To Casey Kasem's radio show
That's when friends were nice
To think of them just makes you feel nice
The smell of grass in spring
And October leaves cover everything

Have you forgotten how to love yourself?

I can't believe all the good things that you do for me
Sat back in a chair
Like a princess from a faraway place
Nobody's nice
When you're older your heart turns to ice
And shut out what they say
They're too dumb to mean it anyway

When we were kids
We hated things our sisters did
Backyard summer pools
And Christmases were beautiful
And the sentiment
Of colored mirrored ornaments
And the open drapes
Look out on frozen farmhouse landscapes

Have you forgotten how to love yourself?

Have You Forgotten - Red House...

Sometime it's OK to wallow in your self pity. You've just got to look around and see how Goddamn beautiful life can be sometimes too.

"When you go back... will you say nice things about us?"

2009-10-17T16:43:00.000-07:00

I'm very rarely excited for anything. I remember once I was excited over a new Belle and Sebastian album. Maybe The Dark Knight. But rarely had anything dissolved me into a mess the way the Spike Jonze's Where the Wild Things Are trailer did. And in that mess were born high expectations, hopes, and wishes and dark fears of failure. The suits didn't work. Kids got scared. Warner Brothers was just going to shoot the whole thing over again, with out that artsy fartsy nerd.

But my hopes were met. Not exceeded, but I felt satisfied and elated afterwards. It's a strange movie, one that probably won't play well in Peoria, Il, but will do great in Williamsburg, but in the end, it's very special, meaningful, and, yes, magical.

A lot has been said about how it is a movie about childhood, and growing up, and learning about the world of personal relationships. But in some ways, it's really a movie about emotions, both subtle and overt, harmless and terrifying, all with out being overly mopey or sickeningly joyful. One of the things about the film that I keep thinking about over and over is the way it captures perfectly that feeling you have after you yell at someone, how you are awkward and seething, and feel a little bit like you have betrayed yourself and hurt someone else in the process.

The thing about childhood is that the stakes are generally so very low, but yet everything means a whole lot. It's all unimportant, but it's so incredibly close to your heart. And when the petty things don't go your way, well, I guess sometimes all you can do is cry. Or yell. And while I'm still about a month away from become a full fledged adult, with legal access to the liquor cabinet and unquestioned entrance to bars, I've slowly found that adult hood isn't that far off from childhood. People have petty fights and jealousies. Insecurities, loses. People still ask, "Why isn't anyone listening to me?" It's all just hidden and changed.

Spoilers.

There is a beautiful scene near the end, when Max is leaving the island. The Bull, who, up until this point, hasn't said a word, and has generally just looked either sad or terrifying, looks at Max and asks, "When you go back... Will you say nice things about us?" And at this point, everyone has kind of betrayed each other. Max lied about being a king, KW has hurt Carol emotionally and physically, and Carol got to mad went to far and ripped off Douglas' arm. But everyone is sorry. They're just confused, and are just trying to figure it out as they go along. They trip up. They misspeak. They err. They're only human after all...

Regardless of this all, Max looks up at him, and, with a smile, says, "Yes." Everyone says their good byes - everyone that's there, anyways. Max climbs into the boat, and the film keeps cutting back to Carol, running across the island. When he shows up, he's too late. He's run for miles, he knows that he was in the wrong, and he wants to make things right with Max. But he's too late. The boat takes off, Max looks back, and he and Carol howl. These two moments cut like a knife, and go straight for that area behind your stomach that is filled with butterflies. There is not one person on this earth who has not experienced that moment. That moment of deep regret, and the knowledge that there is nothing you can do to change it. You've messed up, and now the only thing you can do is live the rest of your life as best you can without that one thing. The one thing that would have made everything, or at least would have tried to make everything, right.

End Spoilers.

It's kind of a bleak ending for a film that was, at least in some ways, assembled and intended for children. I don't know many kids, so I have no idea how they would handle something like that. But I think at least on some level, they would understand it. They would understand that life isn't always perfect, and that we are just trying to get it right as we go along. Sometimes we freak. Sometimes we fall.

But sometimes, sometimes, we beat our chests, and we roar. And that's what Spike Jonze and his crew have done. They've made a big-budget movie about giant monsters with the smallest of emotions. It's a movie about dirty looks and quiet smiles. And it does nothing but roar about it the whole time.

2009-10-08T20:11:00.001-07:00

Let's be honest.

That Jim and Pam wedding kind of blew.

Upon further review, I am still strongly on Team Karen.

I guess what I'm getting at is that it wasn't cathartic at all. It was kind of a wedding for a wedding's (or ratings') sake. Jim and Pam are far too perfect, and I would have been happy if they would have stayed engaged until the end of the series. Something like this would have only been cathartic if there had been more hills and valleys. Jim finally asking Pam out at the end of season three was so elating because there had been so many trials and tribulations; this, however, feels unearned. There could have been any number of interesting avenues and events that go along with an engagement. It all just seems a little ridiculous and unbelievable for a show that is so often hilarious because how believable, or at least plausible, these situations are.

And that song. That meme. It was kind of nice to see everyone dancing, but it still feels like it will be embarrassing and dated to watch it three years from now. And the editing sucked. Someone does something embarrassing. Cut to Jim making a face. Cut to Pam making a face. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Kevin's shoes was stupid, and would not have been tolerated. Dwight kicking someone in the face was lame slapstick. What is this, The Three Stooges?

Not to mention, Pam's been kind of a bitch lately. Ever since she got back from New York. The microwave thing was just a bitch move, she didn't really seem to care that she stole people's clients, and asking people to change their routines for her pregnancy? It's all very rude. Not to mention, she hasn't really been cute or playful since season three. She mostly just talks about how much people annoy her, in some kind of deadpan tone. At least Jim takes it all in stride, and with a smile. At least Karen played along with making Dwight think Jim was a vampire. And she was hotter, too. Cuter? No. Hotter? Yes.

I suppose this is just a long rant about a television show, but I don't think I'm alone when I say that this show is incredibly special. It's created a world and characters that people don't just laugh at, but actually feel for. And sometimes it's just disappointing to see it take the easy way out, when it's so capable of moments like the end of Booze Cruise or Drug Testing or Beach Games or Cafe Disco. For me, Jim and Pam ended at the end of season three. I'm done with them, and have been. That cow is dry. I wanna see Michael feel love, or Andy. Those two are wonderful characters with untapped wells of pain and joy. That's where the show needs to go. Honestly, I wouldn't care if it was just Jim and Pam all over again with different people. Because they made me care so much the first time, and I just want to care again.

2009-10-05T20:11:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I like the things I write.
I have a hard time looking at them, though.

2009-10-05T19:53:00.000-07:00

I had an existential crisis in the condom aisle tonight.

I wasn't buying condoms. Toothpaste. They're nearby.

But I have two roommates, and they are in relationships. Sometimes I wake up in a house with two extra people in it. And for whatever reason, living in a house with four people can still be awfully lonely.

Sometimes I wake up in an empty house, and that's even worse.

Being alone, or feeling lonely, isn't something I try to fight anymore. It can sometimes be very cathartic to wallow around. And in the end, I know that at least I'm not dead, and that I've still got a chance for something.

I mostly listen to music when I get this way. I try to leave the house and get away from those guys. Because that's a lot worse, being around them. Even when those relationships seem less than ideal, or even bearable, at least they usually come back smiling.

Back when I said I can't wait for life to get easier, I guess I didn't mean to say that things will get easier. I suppose I meant they will at least be more singular. To stop juggling and start spinning plates, if that makes sense.

Anyways, I listen to music. Because few things can affect me faster than pop music. Few things cut harder than the harmonica solo at the end of "Isn't She Lovely."

I just don't understand how a blind man can write a song about seeing something beautiful better than a million people with working peepers. I just don't get it.

I just don't get it.

Isn't She Lovely - Stevie Wond...

2009-10-04T20:17:00.000-07:00

I didn't get around to writing what I wanted this weekend, Jacqui. Sorry.

But I had a nice, relaxed weekend, after a pretty hectic week. I guess I don't have much to say, except I saw something today that just made me kind of furious.

There is a church on third street, and as I drove Drake to the clinic, there were families outside holding sings that said "Abortion Is Murder." I don't care where you stand on the issue, and this isn't what this is about. But they had children holding the sings. Like, five year olds. Something just seems horrible and cruel about that, the fact that you're inviting your children into this realm, and that I know some asshole will drive by, and say "Fuck you!" and then a kid will hear that, all because their parents are forcing them into this debate that they have no stake in and have no idea about.

On a completely unrelated note, I kind of flirted with a cute girl this weekend, and it wasn't a complete disaster.

And I really love this song. I think I'm generally pre-disposed to hate this band, but the chorus is so wonderful and uplifting, and more than a little sad.

And how often do you walk away from something saying, "That was fantastic."? It's a rare occasion, certainly. The end of 30 Rock's second season makes me feel that way. Same with the Office's second season. Annie Hall, et. al. Tonight I had another "fantastic" TV moment - from my old pal, Larry David.

I have only seen one other season of Curb Your Enthusiasm (the third), and I thought it was just alright. I've seen episodes here and there, and they seem significantly better. What I love about Larry David and Seinfeld are the way the revel in the everyday mundanities, the ticks people have, the words they say, the small things they do. I could ramble on and on about what things from Seinfeld I love, but I mean, we all know them. We all love David Puddy. We all know a Soup Nazi. Yadda yadda yadda.

What's wonderful about Curb, and this season in particular, is that everyone gets to play some kind of exaggerated version of their real self. And boy did that make tonight's episode amazing. Jason and Michael took the cake, but everyone was firing on all cylinders. It's like watching a comedy tennis match, and everyone is John Mcenroe. It's like the Beatles got back together, and put out another awesome album, without even trying.

But there is an interesting split between Curb and Seinfeld - no laugh track. Curb is grounded so much more in reality, and for that reason, I think it can only be so funny. But it makes up for it in relationships. You always knew George and Jerry were friends, but you never got much pathos from it. But you can look at Larry and Jeff, and you just feel like they are good pals. And Larry and Cheryl, geeze. Like I said, I've only seen one season, but I already want those kids to get back together so bad. They look at each other and you see years and years of wonderful inside jokes, of quiet appreciation.

Curb never gets too sentimental. It's not how L.D. works, I suppose. It wallows in these wonderful/horrible existential nuggets, where the camera slowly zooms in on Larry, and everything has gone wrong, and his face just says it all. He's terrified, he has messed up. He's fucked.

I can only hope that Larry will let us have one sentimental moment. And the way this season is looking, I think he will. He will get back with Cheryl. We will get to see Jerry eat more cereal. George will throw his arms in the air and say, "It's over!" Kramer will slide through the door again. Maybe will we see Elaine dance again.

Oh Lord, please let us see Elaine dance again.

Names I Like

2009-09-26T16:38:00.000-07:00

It's funny sometimes what you find in your wallet. I guess one day I wrote down a bunch of names that I like. Here they are.

Nina
Mary
Marie
Anne
Rene
Phoebe
Abigail
Isaac
Ira
Ricky
Quinn
Oliver
Ripley
Dylan
And I like the idea of "Bruce," but I don't think I'd ever name someone it.

Dream Baby Dream (Single Edit)...

2009-09-20T17:22:00.000-07:00

I certainly wish I could make a living at laying around and playing guitar and sleeping.

And I certainly wish I could sing.

Maybe those will be part-time gigs, someday in the future. You know - when I've got it all figured out. When I've got some woman to hold and squeeze, and some big empty house.

I certainly look forward to the day where the most pressing issue facing me, or us, I suppose, is what furniture to buy, or where to get lunch.

All For The Best - Thom Yorke

It's only castles burning.

2009-09-08T21:30:00.000-07:00

Four things about one thing that have got me down:

1) My parents and Drake's parents came down to Bloomington this weekend, and at one point, Drake left to drop off his girlfriend. During the time he was gone, my parents and Drake's parents proceeded to have a half hour conversation about windows.

2) About half an hour ago, Drake, Javier, Kaitlin, and myself had a conversation where in we tried to remember which actors played which characters in movies from our youth.

3) When we first moved in, Drake, Javier and myself went to one of Javier's friend's house. There, we talked about how we got such a good deal on our house, and how the location is great, and how landlords are terrible, etc.

4) My back sometimes hurts, and I should probably go see a doctor.

We are old(er) people now. It gets me down.

2009-09-07T19:42:00.000-07:00

I feel bad reblogging this, as I've been pretty silent, but this is something I've always thought about and tried to say, but another Eric beat me to it.

I feel like secretly all Erics have a secret code, that we all just kind of nod at each other, and we just know.

From Eric Carle Blog:

"...I had a strong aversion to physical exercise and sports and felt pressured by the competitive nature of physical education. As a result, I often skipped gym class. Years later, as an adult, I suffered from back pain (while I enjoyed walking and gardening I spent a lot of time at my desk in my studio and all of the sitting I was doing started to catch up with me). I went to see a massage therapist who gave me exercises which I did every day. These stretches had wonderful names: "Angry cat" was one of them and "old horse" was another. As I did these exercises the feelings from years before, of not enjoying gym class - of feeling like an outsider at school when it came to sports - came to the surface. The seed for the story started to grow and with the names of the exercises dancing in my imagination, the idea for From Head to Toe began to take hold. A young child once told me, "Ideas come from both your inside and your outside." I have found this to be true for me. The inside event (the feelings I had as a school boy who didn't like gym class), and the outside event (doing the exercises given to me by my massage therapist) somehow mingled together to make a book."

We just know.

"I'm A Reasonable Man, Get Off My Case."

2009-09-01T20:44:00.000-07:00

Some people say Kid A changed their lives. Some say OK Computer changed music.

Amnesiac broke my heart, my spirit, and my mind.

While Amnesiac probably isn't a great "record's record," it is a delightful collection of great, absolutely fantastic songs.

My mother once walked in on me at three in the morning, playing this song on piano, whistling along. She said, "Eric, that's very beautiful. Really, it is. But it is three in the morning."

2009-08-26T12:11:00.001-07:00

Thank you for using the Facebook "Like Button," the lowest common denominator of human interaction.

Sincerely, that thing is horrible. I will tell you why someday.

In other news, I joined a book club. Our first book is Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy.

Don't panic!

By The Time I Get To Phoenix, She'll Be Rising

2009-08-19T10:31:00.000-07:00

- The other night, I was at a friends house, and before I knew it, it was five in the morning. When I got back to my house, Drake had locked all the doors. I had keys for the dead bolt and the handle. However, Drake had also locked the only lock that you can only with there was a key for. So after calling him about thirty times, ringing the doorbell, and banging on the door, I decided to give up, and drove around Bloomington for an hour while listening to Issac Hayes' Hot Buttered Soul. Even though I was tired and inconvenienced, it was kind of nice to see something I hadn't seen in a while - the sunrise. It was kind of moving to watch the sky go from deep purple to blue to grey, and watch the clouds grow red undersides while Mr. Hayes wailed about leaving his woman for the eighth time.

- When I got back, I found our other roommate, Javier, sitting on the porch. Apparently, he had spent the night at a friends house, and got to our place and encountered the same problem I did. We eventually woke up Drake by throwing rocks at his window. A part of me wishes we had done it Say Anything style.

- I woke up at four in the afternoon that day, and didn't shower until seven. I don't know if that's pathetic or awesome.

- Our television / web show has a working title: Things Around Town. It's simple, to the point, and a little boring. But it's better than Taylor's suggestion: B.A.L.S. (Bands, Artists, Locals, Shorts). We also have a host, our first subjects contacted, and our intro ready to be filmed. I'm excited.

- I don't know how busy I will be this year, but I might also try to have my own radio show. Maybe.

- I think if someone ever said, "Eric, describe yourself in terms of media," I might say these things: Annie Hall, Wall-E, The Beastie Boys, and Hot Buttered Soul.

I might also say late-90s Busta Rhymes videos.

By The Time I Get To Phoenix -...

Home Sweet Home

2009-08-17T11:02:00.001-07:00

All of our parents hate our new house. My dad thinks I am living in a slum. I don't think he realizes that there are few parts of Bloomington that aren't tagged.

Our landlord is really sketchy though.

At least we got a bangin' sound system.

Ring The Bell - YACHT

2009-08-14T20:38:00.000-07:00

I made a mixtape tonight. I don't know if that sounds silly. It's how I get by. The first half is early 90s hip-hop. Things from 91 -93. Stuff that I mostly heard subconsciously when I went into used records stores with my dad. Little did I know that people were probably doing keg stands to these songs in Miami and California.

I had that "You're leaving for a while, and we love and will miss you so much" talk with my mother today. It's not much different than the talks we have had before I moved into my apartment, or when I moved into the dorms. "This will always be your home." And that's nice to know.

One thing that was different, however, is something my mother said about my dad. It made me think. It really did.

"I know he's not the best at showing it... but honestly, he loves you. He would do anything for you. Even give his own life."

I know this is drifting in to mindless sentimentality... but you don't have to be here.

And I guess I never really thought about that. About the bond and love in a family, between a parent and a child.

I look forward to saying that a child of mine someday.

Anyways, Drake came by later and we were listening to this mix, and I was remembering all these wonderful memories about my dad and record stores, about my mom and driving to daycare, all this nostalgic junk. It makes you feel lonely, mostly. Like, "Gee wiz, where did the time go?"

The last half of the mixtape is more contemporary. Hipster garbage, mostly. But I like it. The last song is "Goth Star" by Pictureplane. It's this moody, mid-tempo bouncey thing. It probably wouldn't be out of place on the Risky Business soundtrack, or any psuedo-serious teen-drama from the late 80s. When it came on, I was looking out the window. Drake was driving past the airport out on County Line, and way off in the distance there was this blinking red light. It made me remember this thing that I'm probably mis-remembering, since I was probably four, and I was probably tired. But in my head there is this image of a radio tower with a blinking red light, and the steel parts are silhouetted by the purple night sky, and the tips of the trees are lit up by some light, and you can see them do this kind of green to teal to white burn out thing. I remember asking my dad, what was the blinking light.

I can only imagine his smile.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

2009-08-08T14:41:00.000-07:00

Books Finished: Without Feathers By Woody Allen, Freakanomics

Movies Seen: Star Trek, Moon, Funny People, Up!, Public Enemies, The Hangover, Evil Dead 2, Coraline, Watchmen, Dead Man, Blue Velvet, Songs from the Second Floor, Run Lola Run, Dune, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Sunshine, and Solaris (lolz).

Still Need To See: The Limits of Control, The Girlfriend Experience, Drag Me To Hell, Tetro, Humpday, Away We Go, Bruno, and G-Force (Obvs).

Best Summer Albums: Combat Rock by the Clash, Cryptograms by Deerhunter, The Bends By Radiohead, Matador Singles '08 by Jay Reatard

Number of Flash Animations Made: Four.

Number of Times StarFox has been played: Zero. Will Soon be fixed.

Number of Television Shows Planned: One.

We're gonna build somethin' this summah.

2009-08-02T20:22:00.000-07:00

I had a strange conversation with my parents a few weeks ago. I told them about how I had switched majors, and I could tell they were kind of upset. And then they became even more upset after I told them that I thought I might be in college for an extra year, and that I wouldn't be working next summer so I could have an internship. We're pretty well off - but not that well off.

We got into a kind of apathetic, passive-aggressive argument that kept going around in circles. I told them time and time again that they didn't have to carry all the load - let me take out some loans. But for whatever reason, they are very against it. I know I'll have to pay them off. I also know I've got my whole life ahead of me to do so.

But the real bad blood started when I told them that the field I was entering wasn't really interested in grades, but more in experience and in portfolios and in demo reels. And that I would need, absolutely need an internship if I don't want to hustle for the first couple of years out of college. And for whatever reason, they couldn't, and still haven't, been able to wrap their minds around that.

Don't get me wrong, this post isn't a rant against parents. It's more about self-discovery. Hang with me.

My dad always tells me about how when he was a kid, he wanted to own a record store. When he got into his thirties, he did some math, and figured that there wasn't really any way for him to do it. So he gave it all up.

He told me that story again that night.

I know my goals are lofty. I know I may have my head in the clouds. I know I might be some faux-enlightened hipster with his nose in the air. But I want this. I really don't want to do anything else for the rest of my life except for help make movies. And if that means that I have to mop floors for a couple of years, so be it. It is what I want to do, and I'm not sure if anything will make me change my mind.

There are lean times ahead. If I want this, I'm going to have to (sigh) want it more than anyone else. Now is the time to hustle.

Please help me keep running.

2009-07-25T19:09:00.000-07:00

Auto Rock - Mogwai

Why critics are so hated, I feel, in popular culture, is that they are essentially poor alchemists. They are trying to translate a painting or a book or a movie or a song into words, generally 500 of them or less. But a painting is a painting for a reason. Trying to capture why exactly Mogwai's "Auto Rock" is so beautiful and powerful is like shoving square blocks in round holes.

And no words come close, at all, to the deep gut feeling I get when listening to that song. No words can come close to that feeling, and it is my absolutely most favorite feeling in the world. I seek these moments out, and have assembled a fine library of them. Annie Hall, Loveless, We3, I Kill Giants, The Iron Giant, Wall-E, London Calling, Eternal Sunshine, The Red Balloon.

And everything I read and watch about Where the Wild Things Are makes me feel like it will certainly be added to that list.

http://www.apple.com/trailers/wb/wherethewildthingsare/

(No photos this weekend. Sorry. But before I go to back to Bloomington, I will show you some things that interest me. I promise. Pinky promise.)

2009-07-23T20:00:00.000-07:00

I was going to write a long, rambling rave about perceptions of reality tonight, but instead I ended up dancing around to The Chemical Brothers in my basement. I'm still going to write that post, but really, the latter seemed much more important tonight.

I will have some photos for you on Sunday. If it doesn't rain.

2009-07-19T18:05:00.000-07:00

We were sitting at dinner tonight when my father said something terribly profound:

"Poor old Walter. You know, sometimes there are certain people in life... When they're gone, everyone just kind of sits around and goes, 'O.K., what now? What do we do now?'"

I certainly don't have the same connection to Cronkite that my parents do. Dan Rather told me about Columbine and 9/11. But I certainly respect that sentiment. I understand it, at least. There are certain artists, like Joe Strummer and Joey Ramone, that I feel that way about. Certainly, when Bob Dylan, Paul McCartney, Neil Young, or Bruce Springsteen pass on, I'll feel that way. Probably when Gene Wilder and Woody Allen go too.

Some people understand life so goddamn well. They just get it. And then they turn around and tell you how it is - straight up, braces off. They know this stuff is important. And they shout it at you. Because you need to know.

So what do we do now?
Keep running, and only pray that we can work hard enough someday reach the understanding of geniuses like him.

A Few Quick Points

2009-07-15T18:22:00.000-07:00

- I realized today that I can pin-point the exact moment I became a sappy, overly-sentimental, pretentious jerk.

- I am starting a television / web show with my friends and it is extremely exciting.

- I have nearly abandoned the Summer Projects. Not because I'm lazy, though. I'm just too busy and too sleepy.

A Quick List of Things You Should Do During The Summer:
- Go to Broad Ripple.
- Play Starfox 64.
- Not wear socks.
- Lay around shirtless.
- Listen to punk rock.
- Not work.
- Love your friends and parents.

The Horrible Places of Our Youth and Things You Might Hear Me Say

2009-07-03T14:14:00.000-07:00

A twofer today, kiddos!

The Horrible Places of Our Youth

During my freshman and sophomore years of high school, some of my friends and I had this juvenile ritual of going to see movies at the Kearsotes theater behind Southern Plaza. Rarely were the movies ever good; for example, The Day After Tomorrow and School of Rock were among the movies we saw (Though we only saw Day After Tomorrow (or TDAT) because Drake absolutely refused to go see Soul Plane, which, in retrospect, even he admits would have been the better movie).

Regardless, afterwards, we would always walk over to the Pizza Hut in front of Southern Plaza to grab some grub. Pizza Hut is like the McDonalds of pizza places, we all knew, but it was cheap, and it filled our young bellies. And we certainly had a hell of a lot of fun there. I remember once, I had missed out on seeing Team America with the gang, but I did meet up with them afterwards at The Hut. They were just sitting there, laughing – but seemingly to themselves. I sat down, and they tried to pull themselves together, but the couldn’t, and would crack up all over again. Then Andrew said/sang, “America, FUCK YEAH,” and the whole table, except for me, started howling. I remember another time, I gave Drake a ride home from Pizza Hut in my mom’s car, even though (GASP) I had just gotten my permit, and I wasn’t allowed to drive anyone under the age of 18 around for another 60 days, or something like that. When I came home, my mom asked me how the movie was, and if everyone got home all right. Then she asked me if I gave Drake a ride home. I said no, but somehow our parents had played phone tag and she knew I was lying. She got mad, and told me to never lie to her again. Another time, Andrew was drinking water, and then the waitress asked him what he wanted, and he spit all his water out laughing. Another time, we took all our pizza crusts and made a work of art on the pizza platter. Once, Nick squirt lemon into my eye, and it burnt for two days.

Those days were easy. Now I work forty hours a week and go to class nine hours a week. I can’t just drop everything and go watch a movie and grab some grub with the gang anymore. It’s not that easy anymore. I’ve got work to do.

As I drove home from work a week ago, I noticed that a wrecking crew stood outside that horrible place of my youth. They were tearing down that filth palace. You could almost see the grease leaking out the side.

But I miss those plastic cups, that greasy pizza, those waitresses with moles. The icky booths, the faux-stained glass lamps. The at-your-own-risk salad bar, and the shiny wood tables. The clock that just said “PIZZA TIME” – no numbers - as the hands revolved endlessly. The jukebox with Spice Girls Greatest Hits. The Streets of Rage knock off stand up arcade game. The 25 cent machines out front, with sticky hands, aliens-holding-peace-sign stickers, and those square, Skittle-esque candies.

So yeah, it does kind of hurt to see a Pizza Hut get torn down. I spent a lot of time – and probably an embarrassing amount of money – in that place, with friends, and earlier, with my parents. I remember getting free personal-pan pizzas because I read books. I remember not being allowed to play that Streets Of Rage knock off because my mom thought it was too violent.

It hurts the same way it hurt when Hollywood Video in Southern Plaza shut down. We would go in there and find the worst movies. The only movie I’ve ever bawled during – and this was due to laughter, mind you – was Wet and Wholly. And with out Hollywood Video, we would have never known about Ghoulies 3: Ghoulies Go To College or Despisor.

And I’m almost certain it will be heartbreaking when Great Times demolishes it’s pink and blue play-place, when they inevitably pave over the go-kart track, fill the bumper boats lake with cement, and knock down their put-put windmill with hatchets. I don’t know I can handle seeing them rip out the laser-tag arena. That may be too much to bare.

But I guess this is all just growing up. Again, I’m working forty hours a week, about to take a class called “Race in the Media,” and less than five months away from being able to enter bars. It’s tempting to say, “who cares?” But just because it was important to me when I was fifteen doesn’t make it any less important. I may have been fifteen, and it may have been a Pizza Hut, but it was a hell of a lot of fun.

THINGS YOU MAY HEAR ME SAY, EXPLAINED:

“Poison! Poison!”

WHERE IT CAME FROM: On one of the two times I’ve ever been in my grandmother’s apartment, my parents and I were eating M&Ms from a candy dish, and my dad dropped some on the floor. Beau, my grandmothers daushaund made a bee line for those delightful candies. Before he could reach them, however, my grandmother jumped across the room, swooped him up by his neck skin, and wacked him on the head, and shouted, “Poison!” I guess what I, and my father, find so hilarious about it is that scene, is the hyperbole of the whole scene – the jumping, the expectation that one chocolate M&M was enough to make the small dog’s heart explode – and the idea that a dog would be able to understand a concept as difficult as “poison.”

WHEN YOU MIGHT HEAR ME SAY IT: Whenever some sweet falls on the floor, or anytime a dog tries to eat it.

“God damnit, mother fuckers, I’m so pissed.”

WHERE IT CAME FROM: Drake and I used to carpool to work (Less so now because I go to class). When we did, though, our sleepy-eyed conversations usually consisted of “Hey” and “What’s up?” One morning though, as Drake lit a cigarette and turned onto Meridian St., a car cut him off. He then (m)uttered those famous words: “God damnit, mother fuckers, I’m so pissed.” He did it without raising his voice, like Clint Eastwood on horse tranquilizers. Regardless, the vagueness of the statement is what cracks me up the most.

WHEN YOU MIGHT HEAR ME SAY IT: When I’m tired, or whenever someone acts overly grumpy.

“Let him eat shit.”

WHERE IT CAME FROM: Little known fact: I am a picky eater. Even smaller known fact: I used to play soccer. Once, I woke up too late, and too a shower for to long before a soccer game, so I didn’t have time to eat a home cooked breakfast. My mother promised some fast food on the road, and I was content. However, when we did get on the road, we ran into some traffic. My mother mentioned that McDonalds was coming up, and that he needed to get over. It was a combination of traffic, my refusal to eat a blueberry poptart, and my mother’s suggestion to get over that made my dad snap. He turned to her and shouted, “JUST LET HIM EAT SHIT, THE GAME STARTS IN TWENTY MINUTES.” It was instantly hilarious. My dad found it less funny, but has come around to it the last few years.
WHEN YOU MIGHT HEAR ME SAY IT: Whenever some one asks to do something essential (like eat) and it is only passively out of the way.

“OOOPS! I MADE A MESS!”

WHERE IT CAME FROM: As I mentioned in a previous post, my friends and I used to go to Hollywood Video and rent really horrible movies. Once, we rented Ghoulies and Ghoulies 3: Ghoulies Go To College (Ghoulies 2, for whatever reason, was unavailable. The box wasn’t on the shelf, and the clerk couldn’t find it in the computer system, so we were given the answers, in Ghoulies 3, to the questions we hadn’t even heard from Ghoulies 2). For the uninformed, after Gremlins came out in the 80s, a number of puppet horror movies came out, Critters and Ghoulies being some of the cheaper interpretations (Though somehow Critters made it to Critters 4 without becoming a self parody. Ghoulies made it to 3.). While Ghoulies 3: Ghoulies Go To College may be the least funny Animal House/Gremlins parody ever put to film, Ghoulies 1 was an actual attempt at horror, even if it was a pretty poor one. It’s also a very boring movie after the first ten minutes, which is exactly how far we got into the movie. However, within the first five minutes, for whatever reason, a magician pops out of a trash can, scattering litter everywhere. My friend Nick then proceeded to shout, for whatever reason, in an pseudo Italian accent, “OOOPS! I MADE A MESS!” The ludacricity of the magician popping out of a trashcan combined with Nick’s irreverent comment equaled comic gold for us back then. And it still kind of does now.

WHEN YOU MIGHT HEAR ME SAY IT: Anytime I make a mess.

“Fuck me, don’t love me.”

WHERE IT CAME FROM: Like the above comment, we were watching a shitty movie. I believe it was SCAREcrow. There was a scene where an attractive teenager comes onto the boy that has a crush on her. She takes him into the barn (where they die) to get nasty. She takes of her shirt, and they start going at it. At one point, the boy says, “I’m in love with you,” and she shoves him off and says, “Ew.”

Seriously.

So I shouted, “Fuck me, don’t love me,” and for whatever reason, we all thought it was pretty funny.

WHEN YOU MIGHT HEAR ME SAY IT: If I see a girl coming onto a guy pretty hard at a party. Sluts, mostly.

“Don’t eat me, I’m poop!”

WHERE IT CAME FROM: During the summer after freshman year of high school, Drake’s parents offered to take me with them to Nashville, TN. I went, and it was pretty cool. On our last night, we had accumulated a fair number of stupid sayings, and we were kind of discussing about how stupid a lot of them were. I said, “Seriously how can we top the stupidity of these? I’d have to say something like, ‘Don’t eat me, I’m poop!’” and then we both started laughing at that. And then we were ashamed. And then we started laughing again. It was the perfect mix of funny-not funny. Or so funny it wasn’t funny, but then was again. It was as if two Hollywood writers examined what Drake and I thought was funny, and then tried to come up with something funny, without actually known what Drake and I think is funny.

WHEN YOU MIGHT HEAR ME SAY IT: Whenever either of us gets out of hand with stupid phrases.

Music Since May

2009-06-23T20:34:00.000-07:00

Songs:
Passion Pit - Little Secrets

Little Secrets - Passion Pit

I grew up in the 90s. I guess this is something I'll have to get used to and eventually accept. I grew up, as one author put it, during a time of peace and blowjobs. Pop music, pre-Backstreet / Spears, at least, was Bubblegummy and house informed - lets not forget that "World Music" was pretty popular too. It was a weird time where things like Tarzan Boy and The Hamster Dance could be popular. I don't know. I don't get it. Also, The Lion King and Toy Story came out, and both were huge summer blockbusters. One thing to note about both those movies is that their scores were both composed by Pop musicians - not Juilliard trained-baton trilling nerds.

I guess what I'm getting at is that for whatever reason (though it's probably the ascending synths, whispered chorus, girlishly screamed verses, and the children's choir that chants "Higher and Higher"), this thing sounds ripped from the mid-90s - like something I would listen to between playing Sonic the Hedgehog and watching The Sandlot or Cool Runnings on VHS. And it makes me nostalgic. It makes me want to ride my bike down to Village Pantry with my parents at dusk, and eat those terrible ice-cream pushups that taste like cardboard.

The Knife - Heartbeats (Live)

Electronic music has a tendency to be cold and distant. People like Gary Numan, Kraftwerk and Dveo have made careers out of the dichotomy between Computer Music and Rock Music. And to be honest, I rarely put on Kraftwerk when I want to be moved.

The Knife, however, have made something incredibly tender and approachable here. It wraps around you and you become a part of it. It's about as moving as any electronic song can be.

Starship - Jane

Ultimate Summer Song. 'Nuff said.

Notorious B.I.G. - Hypnotize

I really dislike most 90s rap. Wu-Tang is about the only exception. Until about a week ago I was driving around with some friends, and they put on Biggie's greatest hits. And this song is just undeniable. I hesitate giving any praise to Sean Combs, but the production and groove on this song is undeniable.

Albums:
Fly Girlz - Da Brats from De Ville
To call something "Interesting hip-hop" usually means it's something abrasive - the beats are too loud and in your face, too fast, or whatever. But Fly Girls are interesting in a way that takes hip-hop back to its most minimalist roots. An all girls crew, with none of the members being older than fourteen, bring hip-hop back to the standing-in-an-alley-rhyming-to-someone-beatboxing glory days. Often times it's just a drum machine, a loopying, rarely longer than four-bar phrase melody, and the girls chanting. The result is rarely good but always hypnotizing and, as I said before, interesting. Sometimes even tender and truthful, like on the tracks "I Could Give You Reasons" and "Love Hurtz." Yes. With a Z.

http://www.myspace.com/representingnyc

Dirty Projectors - Bitte Orca & St. Vincent - Actor

The phrase "album of the year" seems to be being thrown around pretty liberally this year. Some were even saying it back in anuary with the release of Merriweather Post Pavilion, but that seems to have faded. The same seems to have happened with Dan Deacon's Bromst. Though we're only six months in, I do think it will be hard for anything to knock either Bitte Orca or Actor from my end of the year list. As I said elsewhere, they're two radically different albums, with Bitte Orca being like a jangling skeleton and Actor being so incredibly lush and composed.

I heard DP's rendition of "Rise Above" at a friends house last year, and I was knocked out. Never had I heard such emotion come out of such a warbley voice, from such a rickety Telecaster. But yet it was powerful, in the sense that a band like Led Zeppelin or the Who is powerful. It was the music of a sissy, is what I'm getting at. In fact, "Cannibal Resource" kind of sounds like a Led Zeppelin song with all the overdubs stripped away. Again and again Bitte Orca delivers funky, rickety, soul out of obscure and minimal arrangements.

Actor, on the other hand, is bombastic and knows it. And while I respect Bitte Orca for being a well developed, successful album, it doesn't hit me in such a personal way, like Actor does. It's strange that I'd hear this album now, as I finish up the first half and start the second half of my college education, and see how it differs from the last album that I really connected with - The National's Boxer. Where as that album is quiet and sad at all the right places, Actor, at times, can be shy too, but also incredibly playful and thoughtful, grinning and tongue-in-cheek the whole time. It can also be hilarious, like the "H, E, L, P, Help me!" part in "Marrow," and lines like "I sit transfixed by a hole in your shirt," and "I'm sending consolation prizes to my next of kin." And it may sound corny to say so, but in a lot of ways it kind of marks the changes I've maked since high school, conscious and not. Not to mention some of the songs are undeniably beautiful, like "Laughing with a Mouth Full of Blood" and "Just the Same But Brand New". Best New Music, buy this now.

Spinnerette - S/T

I can't lie, I always have kind of a crush on any girl that can play guitar. And it's a plus if they kind of look like they don't give a shit. And in seventh grade, I had a crush on Brody Dalle, when she was part of the Distillers. They played a kind of punk rock that was so increidbly different than the Green Day / Simple Plan / Blink-182 bullshit that was being force-fed to me. It actually seemed, you know, real, be that the case or not.

I haven't given Brody Dalle's new band's album, Spinnerette a complete or even very good listen. But the opening track, "Ghetto Love," is a QOTSA-esque ass kicker. If the rest of the album is as half as good as that, then I may be in puppy love all over again. And hey, you can actually understand what she's saying this time.

Bibio - Ambivalence Avenue

I don't have much to say about this guy, other than some songs are better than others, and they are all pretty great. Very chill. Very nice to listen to on a summer night, driving around, windows down. Never air conditioning. Never.

Wilco - (The Album)

Why exactly do we listen to music? Is it to groove? Is it because somehow, notes and chords send us reeling back into tender moments of our life, wether we remember them correctly, or were even there in the first place? Is music nothing more than "a sonic shoulder to cry [on]?" And is there anything wrong with that?

For Sky Blue Sky, Jeff Tweedy said that he didn't want to write any songs that required a certain amp to play. Fine, o.k., whatever. That doesn't give you an excuse to write mediocre, lightweight, dad-rock anthems, though. Which is why Sky Blue Sky fell so flat for me. "Side With The Seeds," "Impossible Germany," and "Hate it Here" are about the only redeeming things on that album, and are that way because they're affecting, not just aimless chords plucked on Hummingbird guitars or pointless grooves and jams hammered out on Gibson SGs.

I guess I just felt so let down by Sky Blue Sky. It wasn't Wilco, I thought. It wasn't the right kind of music. Which I guess kind of begs the question, what is Wilco? Are the an avant-garde band that bought Flying Burrito Bros. albums? With one foot in Bob Dylan and the other in Television? Equal parts Neil Young and Sonic Youth? Or are they just the rock and roll band from "A.M.", and some dreadlocked weirdo came and threw some timpani and chimes over some folk songs? No offense intended. It was pretty genius.

The point is, I think Wilco has come full circle. I think SBS was meandering. It has some good, new ideas. It just forgot the old ones. "Wilco (The Song)" recalls the raucous rock 'n' roll of Summerteeth. "Bull Black Nova" sounds like "Spiders (Kidsmoke)" Pt. 2. "Deeper Down" and "Everlasting Everything" echo the spacious instrumentation of YHS. And the good old boys from Disc one of Being There are back in "Sonny Feeling." That's not to say that all the blood from SBS has been drained. "One Wing," "You Never Know" and "I'll Fight" all sound like they could have been on SBS. But they got right what SBS got wrong. And like on SBS, they're all rescued by breath taking solos from Nels Cline. Even the worst offenders, like the Traveling Wilsbury-esque "You Never Know," are saved by Tweedyisms like "Suburban Gangster Flow" and "All you sword swallowers, pull yourselves together."

That's not to say this is Wilco's Greatest Hits. While all the songs touch on the past, none of them are exactly like it, borrowing from everything in equal parts. And they're all delivered with a consistent tone that is unlike anything the have explored in the past. It's very happy. It's very contemplative. It's very relaxed and O.K.

I guess it just seems like after all these years of me loving Wilco, they finally love me back. Wilco will love you, baby.

To Come Tomorrow: The Lush Majesty of M83, How You Should Feel About Michael Jackson, and Summer Projects #s 4, 5, 6, & 7

Artists of Influence: Woody Allen

2009-06-21T16:27:00.000-07:00

"Why is life worth living? It's a very good question. Um... Well, There are certain things I guess that make it worthwhile. uh... Like what... okay... um... For me, uh... ooh... I would say... what, Groucho Marx, to name one thing... uh... um... and Wilie Mays... and um... the 2nd movement of the Jupiter Symphony... and um... Louis Armstrong, recording of Potato Head Blues... um... Swedish movies, naturally... Sentimental Education by Flaubert... uh... Marlon Brando, Frank Sinatra... um... those incredible Apples and Pears by Cezanne... uh... the crabs at Sam Wo's... uh... Tracy's face..."

Some things, I guess, are hard to understand. I love Tom Waits, but my dad and others can't stand his voice. I don't think I'll ever be able to listen to an entire Steely Dan album all the way through. Everyone cranks it to Slumdog and LOST, but I just don't understand the appeal of either of those. But then again, I may be the only twenty year old on the Indianapolis south side that appreciates Woody Allen.

I feel like discussing Woody Allen with anyone my age is an uphill battle. It starts out with me saying that Annie Hall is my favorite movie. "Who directed it?" Woody Allen. "Didn't he fuck his daughter?" Well, I mean, it was his adopted daughter, and he divorced his wi- "That's some fucked up shit man.

He also falls into the category of "Smart Humor," if only because he tosses literary, film, and art references around like they're nothing. So instantly, Woody Allen loses half the people in the world, only because he says things like, "Hey, look, it's the winner of the Truman Capote look-a-like contest."

And the truth is, I've got some big gaps in my Allen filmography. I've seen just about I all I need to see from his wacky, Marx Brothers imitating days, and I've seen all his late 70s work, but I know nothing of his early 80s and most recent work. And I only really want to talk about his late 70s work, because it's the most poignant. But lets not be rash, his early work has some great things. Just yesterday I found myself spitting out little nuggets of references, not as literary as Allen, but certainly more contemporary, and getting laughs from people. Stuff like like Gene Wilder banging a Goat in Everything You Wanted To Know About Sex, or this delightful scene from Sleeper (the Nixon line slays) have undoubtedly changed the way I think and speak.

But those late 70s movies hit me, and always seem to find me, at moments of crisis. They're deep and meaningful, and full of belly laughs. Annie Hall is an absolutely pitch-perfect examination of how relationships work, the small jokes, the awkward family meetings, waking up at three in the morning to come kill spiders. It's tender and down to earth. It's about how people fit together, be they friends or parents or lovers. I remember seeing it on TCM a month or so after my first ever date, and then again a month or so after I broke up with my first girlfriend. You always want to be so angry right after things don't work out. You always forget why you get into these messes in the first place.

I remember buying it right after I graduated high school, and it really, really really helped me get through a weird moment of my life. Make of that what you will.

I sought out Manhattan after my freshman year of college. I remember walking away from it a little disappointed, if only because it's not really that funny, nor does it really present any profound insights into how relationships work. Essentially, I was hoping for Annie Hall 2. But if Annie Hall deals with relationships and questions of the workings between you and me, Manhattan reaches, and grabs ahold of, something much bigger and existential. Why not kill yourself? This all seems pretty terrible anyways.

Allen has a certain knack for understanding the merit of human life. It's not hippie-dippie nor kin to the conservative "pro-life" kind of ideology, but one that, as strange as it sounds, is very spiritual and uplifting. He finds the soul in Gershwin. The heart in Swedish Movies. Somehow, he even found a reason to live in the very fibers of Groucho Marx's mustache.

I've sat here for about ten minutes trying my hardest to come up with an appropriate way to sum up Woody Allen. And there is no way that I can without ripping off Scott Tobias. So here is a quote from him. It's succinct, accurate, and beautiful:

"In a world without order, justice, or any belief systems that are uncorrupted or rational, you do what makes you happy. Then you die."

2009-06-18T18:31:00.000-07:00

Jesus this woman is beautiful. Album of the year, I'm calling it now. I love it. And it deserves longer praise than I am giving it here. Maybe soon I will attempt to dissect it. Soon.

St. Vincent "The Strangers" from Lake Fever Sessions on Vimeo.

More girls on repeat:

And some dudes:

Summer Projects #3: A Very Rough Mix

2009-06-15T03:27:00.001-07:00

I'll let you in a on a secret, Internet. I've started DJing a little. Un poco.

Here is a mixtape. It's very rough. It's also very long. Like, two and a half hours. The first half is hip-hop. The second is dance music. It's also not very good. Lots of rough edges. But give it a shot. Put it on when you clean your living room. Put it on your iPod and mow the lawn.

In terms of reflecting on it, I think maybe I'd be the best DJ in the world if this was... 2003. Pop music hasn't been that great for like, two years. So it is a lot of old songs. Also, this may as well be called Daft Punk's/Kanye West's/Outkast's Greatest hits. A little heavy on them. But when is that ever a bad thing? It's also not that original... just mixing things together. Oh well. Also, DJing is a great way for me to have fun and listen to songs I like... but some of them are pretty damn corny. Is "Good Times" old enough to be enjoyed ironically? Let me know.

The only reason "For the Love of Money" is on this is because my dad wants to show it to this guy he works with, and he asked me to put it on there. Seriously.

Half the fun of this thing is hearing what comes next... So maybe hold of on reading the track listing?

Oh... and who is Ric Tone? Just my DJ name. It's really cool, I know. Other names I have considered: "DJ DJ DJ!" "O-Tone" "E!" "E-Rock"

UPDATE: I finally found a way to get it onto the internet. I broke it down into twenty minute parts, and I am slowly putting it onto zShare. Hopefully it will all be up by Friday. To make up for it, I will aim to put up TWO new projects on sunday. Because I know you are all awaiting these with baited breath.

Part 1: http://www.zshare.net/audio/61474473a8d66254/
Part 2:http://www.zshare.net/audio/615177879c76a7aa/
Part 3:http://www.zshare.net/audio/615186218978fd60/
Part 4:http://www.zshare.net/audio/61519576c7a57b53/
Part 5:http://www.zshare.net/audio/615203713d4577e5/
Part 6:http://www.zshare.net/audio/61521157bdab9882/
Part 7:http://www.zshare.net/audio/615226181a89fb7f/
FIN.

Track Listing:
Those Were The Days - All In The Family Theme
Say it Ain't So - Weezer / A Milli - Lil Wayne
It's Bigger than Hip-Hop - Dead Prez
Hard Knock Life - Jay-Z
Young Turks - Rod Stewart
Miss Jackson - Outkast
Loser - Beck
Paper Planes - M.I.A.
Bittersweet Symphony - The Verve
What Up Man - The Cool Kids
I Just Want To Celebrate (Mocean Worker Remix) - Rare Earth
Get 'Em High (A-Track Remix) (AKA, Heartbeats - The Knife) - Kanye West
California Lovin' - Tupac
For The Love Of Money - The O'Jays
Fame - David Bowie
From the Church To the Palace - Snopp Dogg
Tom's Diner (D.N.A. Remix) - Suzanne Vega
I Need a Dime - Mike Jones
I Want You Back (Rodgerseventytwo Remix) - Jackson 5
Make Love All Night Long - T.V. On The Radio
The Message - Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five
Soul Flower - The Pharcyde
Miss You (Dr. Dre Remix) - The Rolling Stones
I Got Your Money - Ol' Dirty Bastard
Flashlight - Parliament
Touch The Sky - Kanye West
P Control - Prince
Beginning Of Heartbreak - Peter Gordon and the Love of Life Orchestra
I Can't Go For That - Hall and Oates / Sexy Boy - AIR
Good Times - Chic
Robot Rock - Daft Punk
Parisian Goldfish - Flying Lotus
D.A.N.C.E. - JUSTICE / Let's Dance - David Bowie (This part is horrible.)
Someone Great - LCD Soundsystem
Last Night A DJ Saved My Life (Mirage Remix) - Mirage
Promiscuous - Nelly Furtado
Boogie Shoes - KC and the Sunshine Band
Sea Lion Woman (Chromeo Remix) - Feist
Billie Jean - Michael Jackson
Get off Your Ass and Jam! - Funkadelic
She Wants to Move (JUSTICE Remix) - N.E.R.D.
Vanished - Crystal Castles
D.A.R.E. (DFA Remix) - Gorillaz / Over and Over - Hot Chip
DVNO - Justice
Give it to Me Baby - Rick James
Around the World - Daft Punk
Grove is in the Heart - Dee-Lite
Hotdog - Simian Mobile Disco
No You Girls (Vince Clark Remix) - Franz Ferdiand
One More Time - Daft Punk
Kids Are Your Friends (Japattack! Remix) - MGMT vs. Simian vs. Justice
Tenderoni (MSTRKRFT Remix) - Chromeo
Zero (RAC Remix) - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Sweet Dreams - Eurhythmics
The Summer Song - YATCH / Doo Da Doo Doo - Tim & Eric
September - Earth, Wind, and Fire
Flashing Lights (Diplo Remix) - Kanye West
I Love The Way You Move - Outkast
You Dropped A Bomb on Me - The Gap Band
Technologic - Daft Punk / I Feel Love - Donna Summer / Star Guitar - Chemical Brothers
The Kids Don't Stand A Chance (Chromeo Remix) - Vampire Weekend
Push It - Salt 'n' Pepper
I'm In Miami Bitch - LAMFO
What You Need - Tigra
Mr. Wobble's Nightmare - Kid 606
Alive - Daft Punk / Everything in it's Right Place - Radiohead / Love the Night Away - DJ Kaos
Bounce - MSTRKRFT
Satisfaction - Benny Benassi
Combination Pizza Hut & Taco Bell (Wallpaper Remix) - Das Racist (+ Surprise!)
Day 'n' Nite (Crookers Remix) - Kid Cudi
Gravity's Rainbow (Remix) - Klaxons
Human (Ocelot Remix) - The Killers
House of Jealous Lovers - The Rapture
GhettoMusic - Outkast
Digital Pussy (Kid Color Remix) - Daft Punk vs. Spank Rock
Good Life (Stretch Armstrong Remix) - Kanye West
Mony Mony - Billy Idol
Bassment Party - Cool Kids
Daft Punk is Playing at My House - LCD Soundsystem
Jerk It - Thunderhiest
Viva A Milli (Tony Urban Remix) - Lil Wayne vs. Coldplay
Born Slippy Nuxx - Underworld

2009-06-14T15:06:00.000-07:00

Today's Summer Project will be a little late. Not because it's not done, but because I'm going to interact with some actual human beings here a few minutes, and I don't have time to upload it. In the meantime, oggle these photos that I did not take.

Psh. Like anyone is hovering over their computer clicking refresh on this blog with baited breath. Psh.

Psh.

http://www.artnet.com/artist/16443/sam-taylor-wood.html

http://www.loc.gov/exhibits/empire/

Spare Thoughts.

2009-06-11T19:04:00.001-07:00

- I saw a rainbow today, for the third time in my life. Why exactly are they so mystical? It's just light, you dummies.

- I find it strange that of all the things that I'm interested in, from movies to books to video games to philosophy to puzzles and all these things, I have absolutely no interest in the LCD of all of it - Language. I don't like or care about direct object pronouns or comma splices, and I certainly don't care about them in spanish. But yet, I plough through it anyways.

- What exactly makes a good album? Does it grow and change with you? Does it sound good in different situations? Is it performed well? Are the songs catchy? I wondered this today as I walked through the rainy streets of downtown Indianapolis, listening to Radiohead's In Rainbows. It sounded so nice, in the warm wet aftermath. Where and when should music be heard? Can "Bodysnatchers" be belted out by a million drunk art students and still have an emotional punch? I don't know. But the lyric, "You are my center when I spin away," may be the line I say to my wife on my wedding day.

Summer Projects #2: "Lazy Summer," and Artists of Influence: Stan Brackage

2009-06-07T02:33:00.000-07:00

I realized sometime this week that simply making projects aimlessly is just as wasteful as watching Yo Gabba Gabba! or Revenge of the Nerds twice in 24 hours (which I have just done), so I thought I would also try to reflect on the project. So away we go:

Artists of Influence: Stan Brakhage

I have never grown more than I have in college. It's probably trite to say that, but It's true. Particularly my spring semester of freshman year. I had finally declared a major - Telecommunications. As such, I took two classes designed to give you an idea of how media productions are created. The class I'm going to mainly talk about here is C190 - Introduction To Media.

The class was taught by Mark Benidetti. He was young, shaggy haired before spring break and shaved bald after, had a beard, and wore black thick-framed glasses on his large nose. This may sound mean, but it's not supposed to - He looked like a more attractive Bruce Valance. He was an interesting buy, if not seemingly always bored with us, and a bit hard to approach. He was seemingly full of contraries: he implored us to see Rambo 4 and said Larry the Cable guy was "a delightful actor," all while his main concentration was in experimental film.

So needless to say, he was excited, or at least interested, in how we would react to "Experimental film night." We watched five or six short films, one video, and the longer film Daises, which is a really fun movie. But really, it was the shorts that caused the most commotion in class. One film, "Gently Down the Stream" was particularly polarizing, because phrases like "My two vaginas..." were etched into the film emulsion. But something really neat happened that film, and I've never forgotten it since. There was a part where the film just edited back and forth between white and black. It was silent, but yet, you could hear something. It was weird, to say the least.

After that, we watched Stan Brakhage's "Moth Light." What I love about that film, and most of Brakhage's films, is the sense of movement. Watching it on a big screen was almost terrifying - you get this horrible sense of falling and dread.

What Brakhage does (did? and to be fair, he only made a handful of films like this, and those are the only one's I have seen) is glue or paint on the film. What ends up happening is this random collage of color and movement that is often hypnotizing and mesmerizing.

The next day, we talked about the films. One snarky girl had the audacity to say that they weren't movies, because they didn't film anything. Which was stupid. Because things moved. Which is about all you need to have something be considered a movie. Mark then kind of explained what exactly Brakhage was trying to do. Essentially, in the production of film, like when it was first ever being developed, there's no reason why exactly we put it in cameras. We could have started off painting and gluing things to it, and narrative films could have been an oddity. What Brakhage was trying to do was break down how we see and understand films.

Essentially, my biggest problem with a lot of experimental films is how radical they try to be, like the before mentioned "My two vaginas" business. They sometimes can seem empty. "What are you rebelling against?!" "What da ya got?" The experimental films that I'm usually drawn to are the ones that are interesting aesthetically. Which in its self may be shallow as well.

But I think what I like about Brakhage's films goes deeper than that. I talked about UP last week, and how if something isn't saying something, then what's the point? Well, sometimes the medium is the message. Brakhage was trying change how we watch films. Trying to make you look at something a different way. Which certainly isn't a bad thing. Sometimes looking at something in a different light solves problems. "Oh, that screw goes there." It also sometimes allows you to grow, or see from a different perspective - understand a different point of view. Which again, is never a bad thing. It can be used to understand why your neighbor mows his lawn at four in the morning. Or you know, why people sometimes don't think America is amazing.

Summer Project #2
Medium: Flash Animation
Title: "Lazy Summer"

I didn't think I'd be able to pull this off this week, because I've just been running myself ragged. I finally got to relax last night, and just zoned out while I made this. I think it's my favorite flash animation I've made so far. I also love the soundtrack.

So, uh, "What's the point?" Mostly, these are just exercises to help me understand flash more. They're fun and easy to make, and they're trippy. But on a more pretentious note, they are experimenting with builds and releases, expectations, and rhythm.

It's not amazing, but I like it.

BONUS:

Since we're talking about experimental films, here is a good one. Stick with it, please. At least until the cat:

2009-06-03T19:13:00.000-07:00

These are fascinating and delightful and neat.

Yvonne Todd

On repeat:

Artists of Influence

2009-06-02T19:32:00.001-07:00

Much like my "Albums that Changed Me" project, I've kind of wanted to do one on comedians, directors, photographers, and painters. Here is a short list. This will most likely be my Summer Project #2 on sunday, as this has been a bullshit week so far.

Charlie Chaplin
Buster Keaton
Keith Harring
David Leventhal
Rene Magritte
Paul Klee
Stan Brakhage
Andy Warhol
Jeff Wall
Woody Allen
Rodney Dangerfield
The Marx Brothers
Cindy Sherman

An excerpt from my new book TV Is A Lot Good For Us

2009-06-01T19:49:00.000-07:00

FUN TV FACT #1: DID YOU KNOW?...

"The Honeymooners" was originally pitched as a Dramedy called "The HoneyMOONers," about Ralph Kramden and his wife as Kramden struggles with his weight and his pending admission into the N.A.S.A. space program. The show's catch phrase, "One of these days Alice... POW! Straight to the moon!" had a much different tone. Today, it is synonymous with domestic abuse. But in it's original context, it was a whimsical, melancholic, almost Vonnegut-esque phrase that would be uttered at the end of each episode as Kramnden stared out his window longingly towards the moon. The first unmanned moon landing attempt was still four years away, and back in 1955, space and the moon were generally overly romanticized. Which is exactly how the President of CBS at the time felt, when he famously remarked, "I'm tired of these god-damned mother-fucking spacey monster shows!" One need not look much farther than CBS's prime time schedule for the week in 1954 to understand his point of view: Monday: Space People! Tuesday: The Man From Mars! Wednesday: The Man in the Moon! Thursday: Zipp Dangle and His Rocket Dog! and Friday, the popular kids show, Zongdor's Ol' Timey Spacey Show. Thus, Jackie Gleason was sent back to re-tool his "Space-fairy-artsy-bullshit-turd-hour," as CBS's president also famously remarked, becoming the beloved Sitcom innovator that it is known today.

FUN TV FACT #2: GROUNDBREAKERS!...

Lucille Ball is often credited as being one of the first funny (as a relative term) woman (again, relative) on television, and is often considered a GROUNDBREAKER! in that respect. But it is often overlooked that Lucille Ball was also one of the first funny woman with an exceedingly obnoxious voice. Jean Stapleton (Edith Barker), Julie Kavner (Marge from the Simpsons), Roseanne Barr, Louie Anderson, and Fran Drescher should all send monthly checks to the estate of this original, obnoxious, funny (again, relative) woman-ish GROUNDBREAKER!

A Challenge. Summer Project #1.

2009-05-31T16:50:00.000-07:00

Summer time can be a time of sloth for any disillusioned college art kid. Hey, I don't have any thing to do. Let's watch episodes of Aqua Teen and and read Whateves until three in the morning.

So I've put forth a little challenge for myself. Every week, I'm going to try to have a project completed. It could be as simple as a photograph I've taken, or a flash video I have made, or it could be a song, or a narrative video. It doesn't really matter, as long as I post it online to keep myself accountable. I'm going to try to post something every Sunday night around eight.

The goals that I have set for myself this summer are:

-Photography: Go deeper into Photoshop - Learn how to get good color out of images, work on learning how to composite and design better. Ideas I am playing with: Fake album covers, Fake magazine covers, Fake Advertisements, Speech Bubbles (This requires some explaining), Mechanical Symmetry (This too requires some explaining.)

-Flash: Learn it. I by no means expect to master it. I'm mostly working with color/flicker videos at the moment, as they are the easiest to do. Hopefully by the end of the summer I will be working with some real characters.

-Music: Record an album. This may sound far fetched, but I'm going to try my damnedest to create 12 avant-pop-house-electroinca-shoegaze songs that can be played together on a compact disc.

-Film: I've been tapped for various projects involving Gabe Webb and Brandon Walsh, and Jeremy Davis has expressed at least some vague interest in collaborating. The IT guy at my mother's work may also call upon me to help him out with his movie that he is filming. On top of that, I've got two stop animation projects that I'd like to do, and I plan on creating some kind of visual component to each song that I record. Narrative stories are rumbling in my head, but they are mostly allegorical Sci-Fi messes at this point, and I don't have the capital or talent to pull off what I want to do. Yet. Some of the visual accompaniments for my songs will be narrative, however. Some will also be painfully/awesomely abstract.

-Writing: I'm going to keep posting my bullshit pseudo-intellectual reflections on how media and pop culture affects (read: not effects) us (read: me). I've got that video games rant that will be broken down into four parts (What is art?, Majora's Mask, Portal, and Fighting Games), a lengthy reflection on Danger Mountain and my years removed from it, as well several unfinished posts from that project about albums that have shaped me rumbling around in my head.

-I also want to make a puppet.

Sophomore year, I Matt O'Haver and I made a giant Styrofoam whale to hold a slap-dash book of nautical terms that really didn't teach us anything about Moby Dick. While we didn't win best cover, it was a personal triumph, and I still think it is up there with our Mini-O costume and Danger Mountain as my favorite/proudest moments in High School. And what it taught me, and really, what Matt taught me, is that there isn't really any reason for anything not to be done. Anything is possible if you put it on the right scale, and just, you know, fucking try.

That's what I want to make this summer. A fucking try.

Summer Project #1
Medium: Flash Animation
Title: "How are you?"

"I hid under your porch... Because I love you."

2009-05-31T00:53:00.000-07:00

I hesitate writing about UP for a couple of reasons: one, I'm not sure I'm saying anything that hasn't all ready been said, and two, there were some parts that I absolutely hated about it. But overall, the parts that I loved make the things that I hated so small and insignificant.

I was nervous going into UP, I'll be honest. One, Wall-E was so breathtakingly perfect that I feel like Pixar might need to sit a round or two out to get back their momentum. Two, two words: talking dogs. And to be honest, the dogs (except for Doug,) I did really, really not enjoy. And three, I thought Russell would be nothing more than a chubby, flat, folly for Carl to bounce off of. He ended up being a lot deeper than that, and I was actually very surprised by how deep he became in just a few words like, "She's not my mom," or, "I really loved that curb."

But the reason I ended up seeing UP in theaters instead of on DVD was because of Carl. Again, I thought he would just be a stereotypical old man. Instead, I'd argue that he is one of the most sincere characters of this decade. I've said it a couple of times do different people, but I'll say it again: the first twenty minutes of this film might be some of the greatest and most poignant visual storytelling I have seen.

And I think that's what a lot of people forget. Any form of art is essentially story telling. Or, at the very least, opinion or thought spreading. Even Jackson Pollock and Mark Rothko have something to tell.

But what it comes down to is "Why are you telling me this?" As much as I support and enjoy abstract expressionism, dada, and other movements, I understand my father's incessant question: "What's the point?"

Children's movies are a special phenomena. To young to understand BIG IDEAS, like recycling or war or what a Big Mac is called in France, producers have to focus on underlying, wide themes, like love, friendship, and family. Which is funny, because, you know, those are kind of the most important things in life.

I'm proud to say I didn't cry at the beginning of UP. Though one certainly is tempted. In about fifteen minutes, we are shown exactly what matters in life. It's done without dialogue and with a powerful economy of shots that one usually doesn't see in a feature length film, particularly one that is animated. It's heartfelt and tender, and brutal. And it's important.

I can't lie though. There was one point near the end when Carl held a photograph of his wife, and a single tear plopped down on my cheek. Just one though. I swear.

2009-05-13T19:09:00.000-07:00

HERE THE TRAVELLERS S AND M
AND THE CHILDREN MADE FROM THEM
C AND K AND O AND E
COMPOSED A HAPPY FAMILY
AND IN THESE ROOMS OF WOOD AND STONE
SET FORTH TO BUILD A LOVING HOME.

There is a part of me that never grew up that intensely enjoys figuring puzzles out. I can't do crosswords - they rely to much on outside noise and knowledge. I'm a sudoku man. They're built on patterns and repetition. They're peaceful. Logical, if only in a round about way.

I loved mazes as a kid. Every fast food restaurant with a kiddie menu that could be drawn on was torn up quick by the five year old Eric. I learned that if you do mazes backwards - if you start at the exit and work towards the start - there is no way to lose. I also learned that you could just go outside the maze. I don't know how common this knowledge is, and at the risk of sounding like Michael Scott when he dreamed up a unicorn with out even seeing one, I feel like this was a pretty astute observation for a youngling.

Regardless, I don't do many puzzles now. I do like looking at them, and seeing how they are made, and how the system is beat. I recently looked up the WikiHow for solving a Rubiks cube, and found out that it is basically just an algorithm. Some people are disappointed when they find out how magic tricks are done. I'm kind of fascinated.

But as I chugged along on the stationary bike in the gym at my work this afternoon, I read this month's WIRED, and stumbled across this beautiful article. It set my little heart on fire. There really is magic in this world, and it is in a Manhattan apartment.

A Graphics Heavy End Of School Year Wrap Up (Sorry, Dial-Up and AOL users, LOLZ.)

2009-05-07T09:10:00.001-07:00

One final left. I'm half heartedly studying for it. I just don't care anymore. The class has nothing to do with me. Symbolic Logic? Psh. Nerd stuff.

Some things:

1) I sold most of my text books. It's funny how $90 becomes $15 in just five months. What a bunch of assholes.

Anyways, I took that $15 down to ye olde comic book shope, and at the recommendation of the store clerk, and the A.V. Club, I bought the All-Star Superman #1 Trade Paperback. I'm new to superhero comics, despite the fact that I spent a good deal of my elementary school years in comic book stores. I always kind of gravitated towards the indie comics that didn't have to do with crime fighting. Regardless, I still have my favorites. I love Spiderman & X-Men, if only because they're cool. I've always felt that Marvel characters are just kind of funky fun guys. Not to serious. DC, however, as these big archetype guys. Batman is this rich dude who's real depressed and moral and all that. But I never really cared for Superman. I think one comedian put it best when he said that after you allow your superhero to spin the earth backwards in order to turn back time, how exactly do you present any challenges to him? That, and Superman has always been so squeaky clean, ruggedly good looking, immortal. I just didn't see the potential for him to be humbled.

Well, Grant Morrison found a way. I'm not sure how, but he managed to make the chest-of-steel boy scout seem like a regular old dude, and did so with out making it painfully corny. I was also surprised by how funny it was. The whole scene where Atlas and Samson arm wrestle Superman by the ocean for a date with Lois Lane is just a really funny idea, executed with a tinge of humanity. I also couldn't stop laughing at two lines in particular:

-When Superman is exposed to black kryptonite and becomes an evil baby, and right before Doomsday is about to slam his skull in, he says, "Me am die now?"

-THIS (Click to read the text):

KRULL WILL EAT YOUR CHILLLL-DRUN.

2) WIUX (Bloomington Local Public radio station) recently had a spring-cleaning sale, selling LPs for 50 cents. I'm not a record collector, nor am I enough of a snob to only listen to things on records. I simply love record art, and I love how big it is. I usually make it my goal at flea markets and antique stores to find the most ridiculous LP I can. Because every now and then, you stumble across some gold like this:

It's simply beautiful. Every single expression on that cover is awkward in some way. That, and the photographer cut of the feet of the people, which is composition 101.

And I'm pretty sure this man's mustache will haunt my dreams forever.

Born to Bop, by the Ritz, featuring such hits as: "I Hear Music," "When I Fall In Love," "Love Makes the World go Round," "Angel Eyes," "Green Dolphin Street," and that old jazz favorite, "Too Darn Hot!"

3) Final Projects.

One thing I really love about the Art Department at IU is that everything wraps up there a week before finals. Because I took two art classes, I only had three finals. Which is nice.

Here is what I did for my final 3D Project - A Giant Lego Person / Robot

Duct tape was not originally a part of it. His arms fell off in transit to my apartment.

For Scale:

What happened ten seconds after I took the picture:

For Photography, I did seven sets of two images for a project pretentiously titled "Things Have Been Worse." It is basically about domestic things going wrong in very weird, silly, and surreal ways. Seemingly everything that could have gone wrong in the process of this project did go wrong, so i wasn't really that happy with it. However, I'm pretty proud of this set:

4) Things that have been making me laugh.

Rainn Wilson as Bobby Stoan on Tim And Eric Show

Creased Comics

5) On Repeat

The whole new St. Vincent album is fantastic. Really just beautiful stuff.

"I'm sending consolation prizes to my next of kin, allies (Oh, they'll be so thrilled)."

2009-05-05T12:38:00.000-07:00

Earlier this year, I wrote something along the lines of, "I wonder if life goes in four year cycles." I never really explained that.

In sixth grade, I was torn from my homey little elementary school in tossed in with a bunch of brainy, math loving girls. They understood the equations. I just couldn't go with it. And where as my eccentricities and loves had been somewhat tolerated in elementary school, I was now ridiculed by Glynnis Flickenger for quoting the Marx Brothers. I felt alone, for the most part. It was also the first time I was away from Andrew and Drake. And I think I definitely became less cheerful as a result. I guess it was the year that broke me.

Sophomore year of High School was just painful. I asked a girl to homecoming, only to have her break it off a day or two before the dance. Already having bought a suit and a ticket, I spent most of the dance trying to find someone to hang out with. I told another girl I liked her. She broke up with her boyfriend to go on a date with me. The next day, she was back with her boyfriend. On top of this, I had poorly dressed, cackling, lipstick smeared whore teaching me about semi-colons. It just isn't my thing. And she made me feel horrible about it. If sixth grade broke my jolly stride and turned me into a much colder person, Sophomore year just made me apathetic. And while Junior year was a much more horrible year in terms of actual events, I was just really indifferent to it all. Which certainly isn't a good thing.

There have been some eerie similarities between this year and those, with some of my missteps steps from other years sprinkled on top. It's hard to learn from your mistakes. I think I'm pretty lucky that I've gotten through them twice fairly unscathed.

I think I've just been stretching myself too far. I've been tired. 8AMs all year. Even Shelby asked, why do you do that to yourself? Lots of different subjects. I can't write about A Midsummer Night's Dream and then turn around and talk about The Simpsons. Only crazy, real paid professors do that kind of shit. And they don't have art projects due on top of them.

Regardless, I often forget that sixth grade ended with me seeing Pearl Harbor with Jessi Green, Stephen Loyal, and a gaggle of other IDEA girls, setting up friendships that I would tear down in seventh grade but nonetheless reconstruct in High School. I also often forget at the end of Sophomore year, I had my first girlfriend, and I had a lot of fun with her, and that is often overshadowed by my arrogance and the mess that came out of the end of that relationship. I also went to Italy that year, and that was kind of game changing.

I've got one final left this semester. It's hard for me to care about it; honestly, finals account for so much, but they only come during the time when you care the least. Anyways, like Sophomore year, while I'm not doing horribly in school, I could probably be doing a lot better. Probably a lot of B+s coming home this time around. But I've made some new friends, and I've chilled out a lot. A whole lot. And while I'm single, broke, getting chubby, and unemployed, it's getting easy to be optimistic. Real easy.

Marrow - St. Vincent

More Movies I Would Like To See (And You Should Want To Too)

2009-05-04T19:42:00.000-07:00

Moon - Directed by David Bowie's son, featuring the voice talents of Kevin Spacey

The Carter - Ain't this guy CRAZY???

On Repeat:

2009-05-03T09:11:00.000-07:00

And I don't know how to feel about this.

Part of me hopes that it will be Citizen Kane, only edited in Final Cut Pro.

But another part of me remembers that Francis Ford Coppala directed Jack!, and that this may be a bit melodramatic.

But I'm excited either way.

2009-05-01T15:58:00.000-07:00

God damnit.

If this is going to be such a terrible movie, why does it have to look so cool?

She had wet hair, say what you will, I don't care, I couldn't resist it.

2009-04-30T01:48:00.000-07:00

I just rode back from the art building on my bike. It's almost five. It's quiet and beautiful.

I was working on, of all things, a over seven foot tall Lego man made of cardboard. It's got some rough edges still, but it's endearing, at least.

And this was for a class, mind you.

I feel like this was a weird year. It was very productive. I think I've learned more about art in the last six months than I have in my entire life. I've also learned a great deal about personal relationships, be they friendships or what have you.

Ahh, the air's so nice!

I saw a skunk on the way back. It's the first time I'd ever seen one in real life. He hissed at me.

Oh dear. Seriously, the weather doesn't get any better than this.

A delightful new pop group:

A delightful old pop group:

One of the most beautiful pop songs ever written:

Prince_And_The_Revolution
Uploaded by classics007

2009-04-26T23:15:00.001-07:00

College papers aren't quite what I expected them to be like. All my life I kind of looked forward to writing papers about Longfellow and Faulkner, and explaining the history of South-East Asian pot folk art. I got a taste of that last semester, when I wrote about A Midsummer Night's Dream. However, in this semester alone, I've written about violence in the Simpsons, compared Spank Rock to 2 Live Crew in the context of "Booty Raps" (I actually opened the paper with an excerpt from Spank Rock's "Bump;" "Five squeezin’ puss teasin’ cock / Rocking your head / See I like my ass sassy / I keep my man happy / ‘cause I ride like Kelly Bunty, yo I keep that shit nasty"), and I am in the midst of explaining how the single-camera set up heightens the cinematic quality of 30 Rock.

Yeah, I think I like writing about The Simpsons better.

"Time Isn't Wasted, When You're Getting Wasted." BLEH.

2009-04-22T14:34:00.000-07:00

Nowadays, I don't even bother reading the reviews of albums on Pitchfork Media. I don't have the time or energy to devote myself to reading about the author's childhood, ten or fifteen references to bands I've never heard of, and asinine statements like, "They're derivative of Pavement." And in all fairness, I probably do a lot of this too. But the point of this blog is to intertwine how I'm affected by media - not to objectively report on the quality of the album's performances, song-writing, production, etc. I'm also not a paid professional with moral obligations. Just saying.

However, while I don't read the reviews, their scores are generally right on. Even more so, I don't think they've put a bad album into the "Best New Music" section at all this year, and I own most of them.

However, I find their "review" of Asher Roth's Asleep in the Bread Aisle right on. Normally when Pitchfork pans something, like their obnoxious if not kind of funny review of Black Kid's debut album, it's with a horrible smack of smarminess. The Roth review, however, addresses most of my concerns about the him, and is written in a curious, truly investigative style that tries to fairly understand Roth's place in our current culture.

I suppose my biggest concern after I first heard "I love College," besides that it appropriated the beautiful guitar part from Weezer's "Say it Ain't So" in an obnoxious way, and that I will probably hear this once a weekend until I graduate, was this:

"...And then there are those who've heard "I Love College" and find the use of hip-hop as a vehicle to express leisure class privilege as a bit... troubling, to say the least."

I've got mixed emotions about it, mostly because Hip-Hop is a pretty diverse genre anyways, and the whole idea of Frat-Rap has already been covered by the Beastie Boys anyways. I guess what I'm saying is, who's to say that a painting by Da Vinci is better than Norman Rockwell, if only beacuse Norman Rockwell paints pictures of Baseball games, and Da Vinci painted Jesus's last meal? They're both just well arranged oils and some turpentine, after all.

One last thing: Last year, during Little 500, Red Bull, or something, came and covered a staircase with fake snow, and was letting kids snowboard down it. For the first time in my life, I actually felt advertised to, and felt like a target market. And that's what terrifies me about Roth. "I Love College" was written for college kids. Frat boys and party animals and sluts will all buy it off iTunes, and drunkenly slur the words, "I LOVE THIS FUCKING SONG." It's just not fun to go to parties anymore.

"But it's not a self-loathing thing, and it's not a race thing-- Asleep feels less like an album of music meant to entertain than an assumption that you can actually bump a marketing plan in your cars and house parties. Whether or not Asher Roth is some sort of sign that hip-hop is dead, there's no doubt that he's proof that the music industry is still very much alive."

I kind of feel horrible for saying this, but I can't recommend Ian Cohen's review enough.

"What is this, a banana?" "It's a banana with googely eyes."

2009-04-12T21:21:00.000-07:00

I've really been doubting myself in the telecom program lately. I've just felt under-appreciated and inexperienced, when compared to the people around me. I feel like they spout off the names of famous french directors just to make me feel like a fool, as some kind of way of subtly forcing me quit this whole thing. Don't get me wrong, I own my share of French films too. I just don't name drop Albert Lamorisse while I'm filming a local rapper that uses a hand puppet as part of his routine.

What I'm getting at is, in my film classes, usually on the first day, we'll go around, say our name, where we are from, and what our favorite movie is. Often, the guy before me will say something like, "I'm Craig, from Chicago, and my favorite film is Chinatown, or the Third Man." And then I start sweating, because it's hard for me to think what movie is my favorite, because, after Annie Hall, legitimately, my favorite movie is Back to the Future. And I feel like kind of jerk saying that.

But last night, I saw a movie. It was called Adventureland, and it was really spectacular.

I feel like both this film and Observe and Report are going to get shitty reviews based on how the studios are presenting them in the trailers. Even my friend Javier said, as we were leaving the theater, "I really thought it was just going to be like Waiting in an amusement park." But the movie isn't really about the amusement park at all. Really, the title Adventureland is just as much about roller coasters and corn dogs as it is about that awkward period of time after high school, and what I'm assuming that awkward period of time after college and before work is like.

What I loved about the movie is it's ability to be both high and low brow. There is a really beautiful scene towards the end where the main character is sitting on a hill with his friends, and they are talking about how when Herman Melville died, his obituary said "Henry Melville." They talk a little bit about what it is to be an artist, and is it even worth it if "They're just going to forget your fucking name." It's a very poignant point about art and life, and it is directly followed by a joke about jerking off, and a punch to the balls. And they are both hilarious.

What I'm getting at is this: This movie really reaffirmed what I want to do. It's the first movie in a long time, or at least the first movie that I've seen that was made in my lifetime, that was both funny and heartwarming, nostalgic and lethargic, and mostly understands how things that seem silly when you're older doesn't mean that they weren't any less important when you were that age.

It also has a scene where everyone watches fireworks while Crowded House's "Don't Dream It's Over" plays. The characters recognize how corny it is, and yet they smile anyways.

2009-04-11T13:25:00.000-07:00

I sometimes fantasize about getting the balls to become a stand-up comedian. I feel like I make some fairly hilarious and astute observations, and I feel like others could understand as well.

How I think I would end my routine is this: I would simply read funk lyrics in a very deadpan-beatnik poetry style. I think it would be hilarious.

For example, Big Footin' by Parliament:

"I know what you can do
Let us lay some funk on you
Funk on me?
Funk on you!
Music for the young and old
Music good to your earhole
Hey, heyyyy! Ohh, lord!

Big foot music
I'm gonna be good to you
Big foot music
Good to your mama, too
Big foot music
Music that will blow your mind
Big foot music
Music is right on time

I know what you can do
Let us lay some funk on you
Funk on me? (heyyy!)
Funk on you! (oooh lord)

Big foot music
Music make you stomp your feet
Big foot music
Say, just a-clap your hands, to the beat
Big foot music
Music gets in your bone
Big foot music
Music turns you on"

Sincerly, though, I love that song. George Clinton is an amazing human being, and if I could only listen to one type of music for the rest of my life, it would definitely be the funk.

Big Footin - Parliament

All Big Letters But It Isn't No Acronym

2009-04-06T18:12:00.000-07:00

Two things:

1) I live within walking distance to a Kroger, so I've found that I very rarely make big, hundred dollar shopping trips, and just get whatever I need on a need to get basis. Which I think leads to some very interesting purchase combinations. Here is what I bought today:

A Frozen Pizza
Toilet Paper
Red Bull

So I think that anyone that saw me buy these things may have thought the following: "That boy is going to eat that pizza, and then be up all night, hyped on Red Bull, pooping it out."

2) Last week was an excellent week for music, if you didn't know. This year has been pretty great for music all around, and a particularly great one for me, as I've been buying/procuring the best of the best of new releases (Handsome Fur's Face Control, Dark Was the Night, Phosphorescent's To Willie, The Pains of Being Pure At Heart, Dan Deacon's Bromst, Franz Ferdiand's Tonight, Dan Auerbach's Keep It Hid), and minor classics that have floored me (Isaac Hayes' Hot Buttered Soul, Pavement's Brighten The Corners, Guided By Voices Alien Lines, Funkadelic, Parliament's Chocolate City).

Regardless of all that, it seems like last week had just a ridiculously high concentrated level of awesomeness, and I'd like to help you sort it all out.

DOOM - Born Like This

Don't believe the hyperbole. It seems like Doom was always kind of looming around in the corners. I always read about him, and even downloaded the free Occult Hymn, only to be massively disappointed. Even in all the reviews I've read of Born seem to reference how the man is kind of crazy, disappearing and reappearing, being loud then quiet, and even having dooplegangers perform for him. Regardless, I came to this album knowing nearly nothing about DOOM, and on first listen, didn't understand it all. To me, it sounded like a Wu-Tang solo album - good, but kind of seemed unfocused. But as I listened to it over and over, (and on different stereos), little things pop out. It starts to sound better, and now, I'm nearly in love with it. The songs are a little too short, and there is a little too much "villain" talk for my taste, but I can't blame the man for being himself. It's one of the few rap albums that I've heard that unfolds rather than falls apart the more you look into it.

UGK - UGK 4 Life

At the beginning of last year, Drake, Chris, and I hopped the bus and went to Best Buy. Drake and Chris bought hard rock CDs - I bough UGK's double album opus, Underground Kingz. Drake voiced his confusion to me, asking me why I would buy a rap album not by Kanye, the Roots, or Jay-Z. Why on earth would I buy something buy rappers that don't sample soul or jazz exclusively? What on earth could be good about Southern Rap?

We got back to our dorm room, and within the first thirty seconds of "Int'l Player's Anthem," he was sold. He borrowed it from me, and there is a good chance that I've heard that album once a month since. For whatever reason, I have a hard time listening to any hip-hop that uses those tin-y drum machines, but UGK is the exception. They're just both such interesting MCs that I can't help but like them. Well, they WERE interesting MCs.

By no means is UGK 4 Life a bad album. It's a very logical extension of Kingz, and contains that high pitched guitar squeal that was all over Kingz that I loved. It just for some reason feels empty. And that reason is because Pimp C is dead. And you can't fault them for that. It's still delightful and imaginative. It's just too bad UGK goes out with not a bang, not a wimper, but with a tear.

Malajube - Labyrinthes

Since I heard "Montreal -40 Degrees C" nearly three years ago, Malajube has been one of my favorite bands. They sound so dense, and yet are remarkably silly and poppy. On Labyrinthes , they have seemed to calm down quite a bit, scaling back the genre exercise and going with a more refined, more mature sound. In all honesty, it sounds like they've been smoking weed and listening to Pink Floyd, because there are some great attempts at making their sound more progressive (in the 1970's sense of the word). Where as Trompe-l'oeil made you tap your foot, Labyrinthes kind of makes you want to drive at night, or just stare up at the ceiling. If I had to slight it for anything, it feels far, far to short. It seems like I waited forever for this album, and now it just seems like a big old tease.

Thunderheist - Self-Titled

I'm kind of obsessed with this album. In a lot of ways, it's just a dance album. Bouncing beats, wiggly synths, some girl talking over it. But there is something about it that is so charming and endearing. Maybe it's the climbing, glitchy, arpeggio on "Space Cowboy," or MC Isis quoting Dead Prez on "LBG (Little Booty Girl)" ("The thing 'bout music when it hits you feel no pain."), or MC Isis' suggestion to always ask the girl for her real age before "Tap-tap-tap-tap[ing] the booty," on "Sweet 16," or the downright silly horns on "Bubblegum." Or maybe I just have a huge crush on MC Isis. In all honestly, that's probably it.

Peter, Bjorn, and John - Living Thing

For once, I actually agree with Noel Murray completely, and not just half-way.

From the AV Club: "People who bought Writer’s Block, the third LP from Swedish trio Peter Bjorn And John, on the basis of the hit single “Young Folks” were likely confounded by the album as a whole, with its eclectic mix of wall-of-sound folk-pop and noisy vamps. “Young Folks” fans will likely be even more baffled by the new PB&J album, Living Thing."

It's not that PB&J have abandoned pop music completely - quite the contrary. Instead, they've taken the back entrance. They're making standard pop tunes in a very atonal way, which is something I've always admired and been interested in. There is this old legend that Tom Waits pulled some rubber bands over a dumpster to get the sound that he heard in his head. And Tom Waits is, at his core, a song and pop man. He's rickety and clanky, but in a very accessible way. And where as Writer's Block sounded like the Beatles recording in a cave, Living Thing sounds very much like cavemen recording the Beatles, using dinosaur bones for drumsticks. The result is fascinating, but definitely not for everyone. But if you give it a chance, it's reward is unlike any album I've heard since MBV's Loveless or GBV's Bee Thousand.

P.S. This might be my single favorite April Fools Day prank ever.

2009-04-03T16:50:00.001-07:00

I wish the school systems weren't so fucking frugal, and would show things like this to kids in science, because one, it's so interesting, and two, it's so funny.

2009-04-01T19:08:00.000-07:00

A little future planning tonight.

Think I might be a fifth year senior. It's what happens when you Double Major in Telecommunications (with Honors) and Fine Arts, with minors in Communications and Culture and Art History.

Or I could just major in Telecom, and have minors in CMCL and Fine Arts, and have fun my senior year.

I'm not sure which is better. The top option looks awesome, for sure, and I'd have time to make a killer portfolio. The bottom, however, is much more practical.

I'm torn. Jacqui, what should I do?

P.S. http://ronwinter.tv/drums.html

P.P.S.

Two Cats in the Yard

2009-03-31T19:30:00.000-07:00

I saw this again the other day, and it made me wonder.

It always almost makes me tear up. I mean, I start. Throat gets swollen, eyes get wide. Which is a lot more powerful than a majority of videos on YouTube.

And I was just kinda thinkin', I think I was so militant in high school. I was like, "WRITE, DAMNIT. BETTER YOURSELF." And I was always kind of unhappy. I kind of realized that today. Because I was on the bus, and I looked out the window, and I saw a woman walking her dog and brushing her teeth, and I started cracking up. And I don't think I would have laughed at that three years ago. But now, I'm known in all my intimate classes as "the kid that laughs at most things." Nearly anything sets me off these days. And for the first time, I feel truly happy. I've got a gut now, and I'm not proud of it, but I kinda like it too.

But I saw that video and I wondered... I don't know. I just kind of wondered if I've really created anything in the past two years. And I realize, I have. I've made a lot, and a lot of it I'm actually proud of. I'm just not militant, I'm not in your face anymore. I'm very content to lay back and eat and smile at the people running around. I look forward to the day where I get to pick out drapes and bedsheets with my wife, and those are our biggest worries. Not about art, not about people being lazy. Because I don't care what others do. I don't know if that sounds selfish, but I mean, if you don't want to read To Kill A Mocking Bird, who cares? It's not my business, and it's not yours.

I sometimes wonder if I wasn't in school, or if I had a million dollars, or if I just didn't give a fuck, that if I would just lay on my back all day listening to music. Because I don't know if I'd be an artist if I didn't have an assignment or a paycheck to work for. I just don't know if I have that kind of bent. I mean, that's all I really aspire to. To lay on my back, big stereo playing.

What I'm getting at is this: I'm not Kerouac, I'm not Elliot, and I'm not Pynchon. I'm not a rabble rouser, I'm not a band leader, and I'm not the head of the expedition. I'm not sure anyone would follow me these days, and I can't really blame them, and I don't want them to. I'm Eric, and that's all. I'm some flesh with some movement. I just sometimes fall in the right direction.

2009-03-30T17:18:00.000-07:00

Drake's schedule on Mondays and Wednesdays is something to be envied. He doesn't have a class until five in the afternoon, which is when I am done with classes on Mondays and Wednesdays. Also, he's been spending a lot of time with his girlfriend, so I often have the apartment to myself. And I've always noticed it, but I guess I never really thought about it until now - when I'm home alone, I do a lot of really bizarre and embarrassing things. And I kind of wonder, if someday when I'm married, and kids are constantly running around my house, if I will ever just do these things and not care. If I would still be able to beatbox around the house with pride. If I'd still do heel clicks when food gets out of the oven. And I mostly wonder if I'd climb the stairs to a beat, clapping and whistling my own little tune.

T205 just got a lot cooler for horrible reasons.

2009-03-24T19:32:00.000-07:00

I don't think I mentioned it here, but a few months ago, I took part in a telecommunications study where I had to watch porn and then answer some questions about rape. I did it for three reasons.

1) I got to watch porn.
2) I got to watch porn for extra credit.
3) The guy conducting the survey was hilarious.

When I showed up the first time for the study, Dr. Bryant Paul, who looks kind of like a combination of John C. Riley and Jonah Hill, was the one who set up my computer. Something happened on my computer, and I had to start over, so I was the last one to leave. Which also means I was the last one to watch porn. Which was probably a good thing. Because I was laughing really, really hard. I'm sorry. It's just so funny to hear the "fwwwaapp!" of a man's ball-sack against a woman's thigh.

Anyways, when I did finish, I came back into the other room, and Bryant was sitting there, typing numbers into a computer. He turned around, and said, "Alright, I've got some bad news. Or, probably good news for you (wink!). You've got to come back in next week for a follow up. I won't be here, Steve will. He's much more attractive than I am."

And I thought, "This guy is pretty cool." And that was that.

Flash forward to Monday. Generally, my Symbolic Logic class lets out pretty late, so I nearly have to sprint from Ballentine Hall to the Telecom building to get to my next class. However, for whatever reason, our class let out 20 minutes early. Stuck in my routine, I went to the Telecom building, walked to room 250, and opened the door, and walked in. There was Bryant Paul, in all his curly haired, button-up-shirt-with-the-top-button-unbuttoned-with-no-undershirt splendor. He kind of looks shocked, and says, "Oh, hello." I then look up into the rows (and mind you, this lecture room is pretty big. I think maybe 250-300 people can get in, and while it wasn't packed, it was still pretty full) and realize he's giving a lecture, and I'm an half hour early. I make a face, and back out of the room. Re-read that. I backed out. I didn't turn around. I walked backwards.

I felt kind of horrible, because I know they were all going to laugh at me, and I know that it's incredibly disrupting to classes, and I hate doing shit like that, and I just kind of had a quick pity party for myself.

At the correct time, his class filed out. And the kids waiting for the class I was in started filing in. Bryant Paul was at the desk, shuffling some papers, and packing his stuff. For whatever reason, I felt the need to apologize. So I stood there, and said, "Hey, um, I'm sorry for kind of barging in on your class." He looks up, and without saying a word, makes this strange face, and squints his eyes a little and tilts his head back and shakes his head, and waves his harm a little bit like a bad magician, as if to say, "For-gidda 'bout it." (Forget about it.) He says, "Dude, don't worry about it. It's not a big deal." I'm kind relieved, and he starts walking up the stairs. I walk behind him, and he turns around and says, "We did have a pretty good laugh about it, though." I smile. This guy's pretty cool.

I kind of mentioned it off handedly in a previous post, but in the week before spring break, my T205 class was cancelled all week, causing spring break to start on Wednesday at 2:15, as I would oversleep and miss my 8AM on Thursday. Turns out that class was cancelled because the Professor's child was born prematurely. The baby is doing well now, but the Professor is apparently taking the rest of the semester off, or at least my section. So, guess who is my new professor?

That's right. Cool guy.

His lecture was kind of awesome, as nearly every point he talked about also had a punch-line. I don't know how, but even the Columbine shooting had kind of a funny aside. He told us how a high ranking state official in Fort Wayne bummed a cigarette off him after essentially sending a lynch mob after him after he gave a speech about how strip-clubs and adult book stores aren't really hurting the community. It was funny in a way that's hard to put on paper, and harder to really explain. I don't know. He was just kind of hilarious and awesome. And that's all I really ask. Awesomeness or hilarity.

As I was walking out, I kind of looked at him, and then looked down, kind of nervous, kind of still embarassed about yesterday. I guess he must have seen me out the corner of his eye or something, because he yelled to me, "Guess you're in the right place today?"

I yelled back, "Exactly."

"Well, Denham, the airplanes got him." "Oh no, it wasn't the airplanes. It was beauty killed the beast."

2009-03-19T19:54:00.000-07:00

The other night, my father waltzed into the living room in his underwear at 10:30PM and said, "I think you need to watch this. It's interesting, and I think it will make you a better person." He then put disc two of the King Kong DVD we bought him a couple of years ago. He showed me the "Visual Effects" bonus feature, which was essentially devoted to how they made Kong come alive. It was interesting, and it's something I've always had an interest in. As a child, I made a lot of stop animation movies, the most famous of which is a collaboration between my father and myself (read: he did all the work while I talked and handed him toys) entitled Nightmare Before Batman. It was a riveting tale about how Batman, with the help of Mr. Potato Head and a Troll doll took down the Joker. Sincerely.

But in that special feature, there was a familiar face. The one you see above. The lovable and ostentatious Ray Harryhausen. He's a giant goofball, and he's kind of awesome. He's responsible for pretty much all stop-animation monster movies up until the 60s. I once saw a documentary about the man, and they interviewed George Lucas and Steven Speilburg, and they had nothing but endless praise for the man. They talked about the endless intricacies of stop-animation, and how much patience and hard work it took / takes. And it struck me as odd that these two men who now-a-days waive their hands and write some checks and get their names plastered all over piles of shitty action figures and movies.

I can't help but have this image of someday, when California breaks off from the United States, and starts sinking into Pacific Ocean, weighed down by it's own bullshit, that Steven Speilburg and George Lucas will climb up on top of the giant Hollywood sign, and as the water rises, they'll talk about Ray Harryhausen, Fritz Lang's Metropolis, and Flash Gordon, and how great they were. They'll smile and laugh, as the sun sets, and they are swallowed by the sea.

For further, interesting reading, please see this article about the animatronic King Kong at Universal Stuidos burning down.

I only read the online archived back catalogue of Playboy for the articles.

2009-03-19T19:51:00.000-07:00

Honestly, this might be the most fascinating thing on the internet.

All The Tin Man Wanted Was A Heart: An Appeal for a Re-Evaluation of Video Games as an Art Form, Part I

2009-03-18T18:13:00.000-07:00

Every couple of months, I end up on the thrice-weekly web comic Penny Arcade. I usually waste an hour or three going through the last month or so's comics, reading Tycho's commentary as I feel necessary. Today was one of those days, and I ended up, for whatever reason, completely engrossed in this guy's analysis of Street Fighter IV, and all of it's short comings. While it would be easy to scoff at this guy and shout "Pssshhhh, NERD RAGE," it is actually an incredibly well argued and well written (if robotically so) opinion about his beefs with the game. And essentially, it would be easy for anyone to argue about things, but the guy was actually an executive on a fairly well-received revamp of the classic Street Fighter 2 in which the goal was to make the game as balanced as possible in every conceivable and imaginable way. Which is where our journey begins.

I can't lie, I know that this blog is only really read by Jacqui and Delainey, if only intermittently. And they're girls, and they don't play video games. And that's fine, because I can completely understand why anyone would want to avoid a medium that is flooded with games full of violence, sexism, racism, jingoism, and swearing. It's like country, gangster rap, and meat-loaf rolled into one completely unapproachable genre. But the fact is, there is a lot to be found in video games, beyond typical appeals to scientific research that says that video games increase hand-eye coordination and team building. And this may just becoming from my new found appreciation for genre exercises, mostly courtesy of the A.V. Club (hey, did you guys know that techno can be meaningful? did you guys know that comic books can actually contain very interesting stories?). Regardless, I think that while you do have to wade through awesome sounding garbage like 50 Cent: Blood on the Sand where 50 Cent searches the middle east for A FUCKING SKULL MADE OF FUCKING DIAMONDS (start watching around 2:58), there really are some fantastic things to be found.

But the problem with video games goes a little deeper than that. Certainly, films like, say, Top Gun which is violent, sexist, and jingoistic in its own right, certainly doesn't drive an entire sex away. So what's the deal?

When Sirlin set out to revamp Street Fighter 2, he wrote down three design goals:

"1) Make the game easier to play—more inclusive rather than exclusive
2) Make the game even more balanced for tournament play
3) Add fun as long as it doesn't interfere with #2."

Inclusive, balance, and fun. All of these things are the main reason why the Wii is so popular, and where the split between "Hardcore" and "Casual" gamers starts. The reason why games like MYST, Tetris, The Sims, and Super Mario are so popular, and why they are so often pointed to in popular culture is because of those three things there. However, what separates these games from Flash games on NewGrounds that aim for the same things is the amount of depth that those games have, either there or superficially so, in the case of MYST.

The split between casual and hardcore gamers come up again. We're going to delve into stereotypes here for a second as well, so please stay with me. I'm both embarrassed and filled with nostalgia when I admit that I've paid my dues as a video game nerd. There were times when I would wake up early before school to check live updates on E3 on the internet. And if you understand that sentence, then you probably also understand how incredibly nerdy that is. So I've spent my fair share of time on the forums on GameFAQs.com, and I kind of understand what theses people get upset about, and what their qualms with these games are. Essentially, in the case of the Sims, the simple interface, the lack of definate goals, and the snobbery that comes with seeing something you love become really really popular. Also, the entire premise of the Sims is that YOU ARE GOD, and essentially reveals in it's lack of immersion, because the whole point of it is that you are not a part of it.

And so, there are two paths that hardcore gamers take. They either keep sitting on their parent's couch, or they have enough footing in reality to get a job, forcing them to either make video games themselves, or become video game journalists, that review video games based on such arbitrary criterion such as sound and immersive-ness. And that, my friends, is the very beginning of the problem. Also, interestingly enough, it is the end of this first post in a series of posts. Look forward for more incredibly awesome and immersive posts on the artistic merit of video games!

2009-03-18T16:28:00.001-07:00

In my head I'm sketching out an epic post about... well, I don't want to give it away. But truly, it will be retarded long for no good reason. In the meantime, I've compulsively made two lists that I will hopefully expound upon later. I will feasibly pontificate these subjects in the future. I'll talk about 'em later.

Top Five Greatest Band Names:
1. Sonic Youth
2. The Clash
3. Daft Punk
4. Cake
5. AIR

Top Five Favorite Guitar Players:
1. David Gilmore, Pink Floyd
2. Lindsey Buckingham, Fleetwood Mac
3. Pete Townshend, The Who
4. Mick Jones, The Clash
5. Nels Cline, Wilco

2009-03-18T13:53:00.000-07:00

If it wasn't clear, I'm back at my parent's house for spring break. I was in Bloomington last night for a friend's birthday, but now I'm at home, and for the first time, it feels kind of not like my home. I can't really put a finger on it, but for whatever reason, things just seem a little off.

Anyways, for years we had a caller ID in the house that was this kind of spinning, magical, LED orb thing, obviously from Brookestone or The Sharper Image. Whenever someone called, the name would pop up and spin around. It was in the middle of the room, by the windows, so you could just poke your head up like a prairie dog from whatever you were doing and see who was trying to get a hold of you.

Well, apparently, a couple weeks ago, the orb broke. Its little electronic heart stopped beating, and its delightful and seasonal messages ("Good Evening!" "Brrr! Merry Christmas!" "Happy Groundhog's Day!") ceased. But the strange thing is, whenever the phone rings, I still find myself looking for it. I look around, walk out of what ever room I'm in in hopes of finding it. It's strange, but I've become a sad Pavlovian dog.

2009-03-15T10:01:00.000-07:00

All I gotta say.

Three Things

2009-03-14T17:51:00.000-07:00

1) A Story
2) Movies, Music, and more Snobbery
3) Media Specificity and Writer's Block

1) A Story

This story may be a little hard to visualize, so I've provided some quick, visual mock-ups.

On Mondays and Wednesdays, I have an hour break between my classes, and I usually spend that time in the library, as it is relatively close to the Telecom and Art buildings. However, a few weeks ago, I found myself walking up towards the doors along side a Blackberry-wielding, Ugg boot-wearing sorority girl that looked remarkably like Carrie Fisher - only uglier.

The doors to the Herman B. Welles Library are all in a row, and there are probably ten or so of them. In the mock-up above, the blue lines coming out of the longer blue line represent doors, though they were not open as they are depicted. Also, there were probably three or four doors between us. We weren't walking side by side is what I'm getting at.

So we kind of reach the bank of doors at the same time. She is yammering on, and I have my headphones on, and I'm minding my own business.

However, as I open my door, I kind of notice that she doesn't open her's. Instead, she runs towards my door that I am opening.

As I finish opening the door, and start to walk in, she rushes over, and pushes me out of the way, and walks in the door that I opened for myself.

I don't want you to get the wrong impression - I didn't fall down from her shove, and it was more of a kind of wave-off that happened to brush me than a shove but regardless, it is the single rudest thing that has happened to me on this campus.

2) Movies, Music, and more Snobbery

For the first time in my college career, I slept through a class. On Thursday of this last week, I had one class - a three hour 8AM studio class for 3D Art. Since it is a studio class, and 3D is incredibly hands on, it's not hard at all, and I usually spend it joking around with the teacher while standing up and moving around. What I'm getting at is that it is very hard to fall asleep in, even if you were sitting down. You just move around too much. The hardest part is just getting up. And usually, right after it, I have Media & Society, and I'm usually all woken up by then, so it's a note-taking breeze. However, that professor was incredibly pregnant, and had her child a month early, causing classes to be cancelled all this week. So all I had to do was roll out of bed and make it to the bus stop. But instead, I ended up sleeping through my alarm. Because I need to wake up at 6 to get there on time. And I was up until 5 working but not really working on a take-home midterm exam with Jeremy. So yeah, it's not really a surprise that my body shut down on me like that.

Regardless, Jeremy and I were probably done with the exam by two, and just spent the next couple of hours talking about Movies. And before I go any further, I'd like to add that Jeremy is one of the most down to earth and nicest people I've ever met. He's just a good guy.

Anyways, the whole night, he kept asking me if I had seen this movie, or heard of this director, or whatever. And the answer always kept coming up "No." And now looking at it, there are some major holes in my movie-viewing repertoire, especially for a Telecommunications major. For example, I have never seen any of the following: Jaws, The Godfather Part II, Frankenstein, King Kong, Rocky, Die Hard, Psycho, Silence of the Lambs, Alien, The Sixth Sense, Gone with the Wind, or Saving Private Ryan; up until a month ago, I'd never seen Casablanca or Citizen Kane either. They only best picture noms that I saw this year were Ben Button and Milk, and I thought both were just o.k. And let's not get started on the uncountable number of Cult, Noir, Horror, Documentary, and Foreign films that are musts. But there are a remarkable number of movies that I have seen, and that I hold dearly to my heart. Star Wars, Ghostbusters, Caddyshack, Short Circuit, Jurassic Park, Back To the Future, Face / Off, Ferris Bueller, Toy Story, E.T., The Sandlot... And there is definite theme there. These movies are all huge, gigantic pop culture markers. They tell a story about what Americans value, 1967-2001. These are indifferently shot, indifferently directed films about preposterous things. They don't aim for art, or for the mind, or for the history books. They aim for the heart of America, for the baseline things that bring us together; explosions, the paranormal, fear, optimism, chuckles and the future - ahem - FUN. And to me, those things are so much more important than art.

(As a quick aside, my friend Rachel Ogden had never seen a Star War until Sophomore or Junior year of high school. A girl in my 3D class claims that she has never seen Ghostbusters. I find this hard to believe.)

But I realized that night, and again as I write this, that I am kind of full of bullshit. There are probably in the hundreds now of Albums and Songs and Artists that I listen to that are immediately unaccessible on first listen. Sonic Youth, Aphex Twin, My Bloody Valentine, Jesus and the Mary Chain, Spacemen 3, Brian Eno, Mogwai. Not to mention how unaccessible and unappealing some genres like Ambient, Techno, and Hip-Hop can be to certain people. And yet when I think about the moment when my ex-girlfriend said of Bruce Springsteen's Born To Run, "What's the appeal of this?" and how I nearly punched her in her big greek nose, and told her that maybe you just need to reach a different point in your life to appreciate it, or how I told her later that you need to listen to it differently, I realize that I am kind of full of more bullshit than ever. How I will willing put down nine dollars to see My Bloody Valentine in 3D or Face / Off, but I will scoff if some one asks me, "Do you listen to My Chemical Romance? or Buckcherry?" It's a strange internal paradox of mine that I would like to explore further.

3) Media Specificity and Writer's Block

For whatever reason, with my latest photography assignment, I decided to focus on making pictures of magic tricks. The whole project came together incredibly easy, and I'm very proud and happy with it, for once. However, upon reviewing it after taking a few days off from it, the whole tone of the project is kind of nasty and cynical, which is something I never expected to come out of me, or at least not to come out in the art I make. Many people have said that making art is like taking a stab at perfection, because it so rarely happens in real life. I buy that. And for the most part, because of that saying, I generally make kind of surreal and fun images, with characters and implied stories, that aren't deep, but people tend to smile and laugh at. Same with most videos I make. I can't tell you how many bullshit experimental films about mysticism I've watched in the film classes I've taken. It just seems like all the art that gets made by people around me is so serious. And while I'm not saying that art shouldn't be serious, I'm just saying is that it never seems to let up. People just take themselves so seriously, and I feel like I kind of fell into that this time around. I mean, the images are still surreal, and there are still characters, and they are still kind of funny, but they are also kind of dark, and mean. So that brings me to our next assignment - Color.

I'm a chronic list-maker. CDs to buy, movies to watch, things to do. So I started making a list of things that I might want to explore in this next project, and themes that I want to have run through this next, final, project. And at one point, I wrote this down:

"The dark, yet elating, smile that comes after reading a Kurt Vonnegut novel or a Pixar movie, without being trite or overly cute."

And I realize that all art is tightrope act. On one side, you are trying to get out your dreams and ideas. But on the other side, you have no idea how people are going to interpret it. And one thing I noticed instantly about that sentence is that I referenced two other forms of media. I started to wonder if a series of still images can have the same kind of elating or optimistic qualities of a 90 minute movie or a 240 page novel. Even my favorite images - Picasso's Guernica, Klee's paintings, Henri Cartier-Bresson's Behind the Gare St. Lazare, evoke pain and hope and even at times, whimsy, but can hardly be called elating. There is just no release, no build up. It simply happens. And I don't know what to do to fix it.

Ahem.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to watch Pee Wee's Big Adventure.

2009-03-10T21:36:00.000-07:00

"My nerdiness is getting in the way of my geekiness." - Patton Oswalt

Now I'm not one to complain, but there are somethings that I just hold so dear to my heart, I can't help but get pissed of. And this may just be flat-out snobiness, but whatever. It just kind of made me shitty.

Haley Grigsby thought slumdog millionaire was AMAZING!
26 minutes ago · Comment · Like

Emily Labéjof at 12:17am March 11
wasn't the soundtrack awesome??

Haley Grigsby at 12:18am March 11
hells to the yea! i wonder if you can buy it?
i loved Paper Planes. Definitely played at the right moment :)

Emily Labéjof at 12:19am March 11
oh i know, so unexpected, too

When M.I.A.'s Kala came out (ahem) in the summer of 2007, I appreciated it. I have a hard time listening to "Bird Flu" and "Boys," but the rest of the album is solid. It's hard to reference both New Order and The Pixies in the same song, and not be Girl Talk. But whatever. The first thing that struck me about the album was the song "Paper Planes." The fact that it so brilliantly appropriated The Clash's "Straight To Hell" guitar part to juxtapose M.I.A.'s (and I'm assuming here) troubled life with Sri-Lanka and all that. "Straight To Hell" is a song about American's occupation in Vietnam, and our general ability to come in and force our way of life on people ("That ain't Coca-Cola, it's blood"). What I'm getting at is that it wasn't just some arbitrary sample. It was picked specifically to have a kind of meaning-match, so that people that know the original song can have a kind of "OH, ok, this is some political shit," moment. They play off each other. It was specific; a lot of hip-hop samples can be seemingly random, like say, Lil' Jon sampling "Crazy Train."

Alright, so whatever. The Clash loving music nerd can get his jollies by pointing out the records that get sampled. Big deal.

WAIT.

Flash forward to around March 2008. The Pinapple Express trailer starts making the rounds on the internet, and eventually makes the jump to television. "Paper Planes" is played ad infinitum every hour or so. Again, when I first saw the trailer, I loved it. The juxtaposition between James Franco and Seth Rogan's pot-addled antics against a song that is seethingly political implied that while this is a comedy, it is also a movie with a lot of guns and violence. So alright, cool, whatever, it's cool, but they kind of missed the point. Whatever.

WAIT.

So then, I guess, somehow, people were like, "OH SHIT, PAPER PLANEZ GOT SOME MAD ASS BEATZ," and some how, and I have no fucking clue how this happened, it started getting played at every party around IU. It was as expected as "A Milli" is now. You could just not go a night out with out hearing some drunken slut slur the words "Sssspirate bonez and skkkkullllllllzzzzz.... I. Freaking. Love. This. Song." And this is where I get confused and angry.

"Straight To Hell" is one of my favorite songs, and I personally think it's one of the most beautiful songs ever written. In a forthcoming post, I'd like to talk about how it was the last thing I heard drifting off to sleep for weeks in 8th grade. I would put on From Here to Eternity and let it play out, through all the hits, and it would land on an extended seven and a half minute live version of "Straight To Hell." I never really thought about the lyrics until high school, but I just kind of knew it was important.

Ok, Ok, Ok, fuck that shit. Let's get back to Emily's comment up there. What I guess I'm most upset about is now "Paper Planes," and for me, "Straight to Hell" have lost their edge. The fact that (and I'm assuming here) that Emily more likely associates "Paper Planes" with beer pong and Jagerbombs instead of politics and the bombing of the Vietcong can't help but make me feel hurt. I haven't seen Slumdog, and of course, I don't know what Emily thinks. But I can only assume that Slumdog appropriated "Paper Planes" in the same way that "Paper Planes" appropriated "Straight To Hell" ; to make a scene appear to have a more political stance or to make the scene hit harder or something. It was using it for it's tone rather than for it's message. Which again, is FINE. Just as long as you don't drink Jungle Juice to it.

So I guess what I'm getting at is, when a song is put out there, and used for all these different things, sampled, movie trailers, etc., does anyone have the right to get angry? For me, it's such a deep and powerful song that echos some of my pseudo-beliefs that it kind of feels like someone is taking my home movies of me in a diaper and projecting them for everyone to see.

Am I just being hyperbolic?

It just pisses me off that I can't get the same vicarious rush I used to get out of "Straight to Hell" as I did way back then. It's been overtaken by girls in North Face jackets, Ugg boats, and leggings. And that is a horrible thing to lose anything too.

2009-03-08T17:40:00.000-07:00

In a bizarre quest to make the most laughable mix-tape ever, I may have accidently created the world's greatest party mix.

Maybe.

1. Theme from Shaft - Isaac Hayes
2. Tenderoni (MSTRKRFT Remix) - Chromeo (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AAPaqTd23ZU)
3. Your Love - The Outfield (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=78pQOkLTdFo)
4. Ante Up Remix Feat. Busta Rhymes, Remy Martin, and Teflon - M.O.P.

5. Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Tears for Fears
6. Addicted to Love - Robert Palmer
7. Bouncin' Back - Mystikal
8. You Got It - Roy Orbinson
9. Wild Thing - Ton Loc
10. Today - Smashing Pumpkins
11. Work It - Missy Elliot
12. Saftey Dance - Men Without Hats
13. Edge of Seventeen - Stevie Nicks
14. The Next Episode Feat. Snoop Dogg - Dr. Dre
15. The Heart of Rock n' Roll - Huey Lewis and the News
16. Wind Blow - Bone Thugs
17. Electric Avenue - Eddy Grant
18. Shout (Parts 1 &2) - The Isley Brothers

Seriously. This is how people should party.

2009-03-07T15:31:00.001-08:00

When I start getting things back, I'd like to post what I've been up to lately, as I sincerely haven't had a moment to spare in the last few months. I've been running around and not sleeping much, and kind of going crazy, and smiling, and laughing hard. I've not been stressed out, but, I suppose, "We run much faster to get where we are going." But this week before spring break should be pretty relaxing. Which will be nice. Real nice.

But for the moment:

It is 72 degrees, all the windows are open in the apartment, I am barefoot, I have watched Wet Hot American Summer twice in the past twenty-four hours, and laughed hard at things I am just now discovering in it, and I am listening to Yo La Tengo, about to crack open Rabbit, Run by John Updike.

I may go see a band later, I may not. I was with friends last night, laughing hard at Teeth, and I plan on being with friends again tonight.

I'm a happy man, with a growing belly and an emptying wallet.

2009-02-26T17:20:00.000-08:00

This hits the nail on the head. This is my manifesto, my bible, my ideology.

I Can Tell That We Are Gonna Be Friends: The Ace Chuckle Merchant that is Conan O'Brien

2009-02-21T18:24:00.000-08:00

"I was down in the Civil War, and he was acting very cowardly, and he said 'Let's get out of here, we're all going to die.' And then he made out with another man."

The fondest memories I have of my father growing up are either the ones where he was inexplicably outraged at immaterial things or the ones where he laughed so hard he started crying. There are only two memories of the former. One is when we watched Planes, Trains, and Automobiles at 11PM once, and he started crying during the scene where the dog has his face frozen. The other is pretty vague, as I was incredibly young. My mom and I had just gotten back from daycare, and my dad came rushing into the kitchen, begging my mom to come quickly. She protested, asking for him to please wait while she took off her shoes and put down her purse, but he dragged her in the the family room anyways. In the family room was a wobbly taped image of a gigantic irish goon talking to a television that had an image of Bill Clinton with the mouth cut out and another mouth in it's place, making political jokes that I was too young to get. However, the image of my dad clutching his side while my mom smiled awkwardly will never leave my head.

It would be years later, in seventh grade, when I would be watching Comedy Central one afternoon, when they would show the previous night's "Late Night with Conan O'Brien." I remember watching one sketch, where a puppet whale lifted a gun into the air and swung it around wildly, and then would fire it, and pretend to kill its self. The actual premise of the sketch is something that I can't remember. But I do remember laughing my fucking ass off.

It's both funny and fantastic to see a band like the White Stripes who, despite having a horrible drummer and a lead singer that kind of looks like a monster and sings like a sad, trembling puppy, close out the show. Even more triumphantly, they sang a song that has the line, "Teacher thinks that I sound funny / But she likes the way you sing." Truly, Conan is a clownish human being. He's bizarre and lanky and over the top. But there is something immediately likable about the man. Both self-deprecating and in love with old-timey talk, the man almost screams T.V. poison. But something clicked. We like the way he sings.

How I ever forgot that this was Conan's last week at the 12:45 time slot is something that I will probably regret for a long time. I guess I've mostly been worried that he will slowly transform into Jay Leno - a shallow, pandering puppet for the Baby Boomers to guffaw at. And I've been thinking these last few days, I guess you never really miss someone till after they're gone, and that ol' Consie really has had quite a bit to do with how I laugh. I discovered him around the time that I was getting into shitty Nu Metal bands, and pretending to hate my parents, and watching a lot of "Invader Zim," and somehow, all his dark, off the deep end jokes about the past and death really clicked. Masturbating Bears, Insult Dogs, Suicidal Whales... It's all very surreal and hilarious stuff. It's the kind of thing that I think all those stuffy Dadaists would have loved to see on a mass scale. Seriously. What other host would allow the final episode of his show to open with his announcer saying, "I hope Conan likes the present I got him. Flames! Beautiful flames!"

So I guess what I'm getting at is, when Conan was reading off all the names of people that have helped him and believed in him over the years and trying to hold back his tears, it was actually pretty touching. And when that lanky, translucent, ginger-headed, Irish freak said, "A lot of people have said that since I'm moving to the 11:30 time, it's time for me to grow up. But I assure you, that will not happen. This is the only way that I know how to be," I couldn't help but smile.

"This one's for you, Nell."

(This is a different clip than above, and it is amazing. Please, please watch.)

2009-02-15T05:53:00.001-08:00

I suppose that last post was pointless. I passed out at 9:30PM, and woke up about half an hour ago (8:30AM). I missed the promised eroticism of Valentine's night, but I recharged my sleep debt with long, strange, and epic dreams.

On an unrelated note, I think I might drop out of college and just become an electronic musician, as it is the only thing I have ever truly loved.

Happy Valentine's Day, synthesizers, sequencers, and samplers.

2009-02-14T16:08:00.000-08:00

Mmm. This is a tricky one. This is certainly not the first time I've ever spent Valentine's Day single. It could be, however, the first time I've spent Valentine's Day alone.

You see, at least in the past, there was always someone to hang out with. Even last year, I think I spent the evening with the freaks up at the hill. But now, even my own roommate is off pursuing some Australian Sheila, and the best people I met last year are all in relationships with each other. And I sincerely hate being the third wheel. I'd just feel like a big pain. And it would just be too awkward.

So I'm sitting here, trying to hold my own. It would be easy to pretend that this day doesn't exist, and even easier to pout, watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and listen to Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks on repeat, while eating something horrible for me. But both seem exceedingly lame and hyperbolic. Honestly, it's just another day, right?

I suppose the best thing would to just kind of do whatever, and try not to get consumed by it all. Not fall into the traps of self-pity and self doubt, and try to keep my head up, and hope for better days.

Right?

The hand-me-down Pumas - AND THE TIE DYES.

2009-02-05T14:09:00.000-08:00

I don't have time to go into it, because it really deserves a massive post, but The Beastie Boy's Paul's Boutique turned 20 this week. I absolutely love that album. Here are some reasons:

- "To all the Swiss girls... To all the Japanese ladies..."
- They rhyme "lobster" with "helicopter."
- "I've got more rhymes than J.D.'s got Salinger / I hold the title, and you are the challenger."
- It contains my all time favorite couplet - "Like Sam the butcher, bringing Alice the meat / Like Fred Flintstone driving around with both feet." Honestly, we all know Lil Wayne is insane, pulling bizarre insults from seemingly thin air. But how many MCs are crazy enough to reference minor Brady Bunch characters and a cartoon sitcom from the 50s less than five minutes into their album?

So if you have the time, you should seriously listen to the Boy's commentary for the album. The story about Thanksgiving as well as the story about them meeting Bob Dylan at Dolly Parton's birthday party is priceless.

http://paulsboutique.beastieboys.com/audiocommentary

"Ponce De Leon, constantly on / the fountain of youth, not Robotron!"

2009-02-03T20:28:00.000-08:00

If you are trying to send me something, or are looking for me, don't try my apartment. I've moved out of there, and have a new address. I'm living on campus again, but not in a dorm. I live in a snug cubby hole in the 3D room of the Henry Radford School of Fine Arts. I have a blanket and a space heater, and it is all I need.

But sincerely, I think I've gone insane. Like, seriously bat shit crazy. I am a bumbling asshole drowning in art, but I kind of like it.

Tomorrow I will attempt to shoot some surrealist or magical realist or just flat out fucked up photographs tomorrow. It is disheartening to know that what I'm attempting can be done in five minutes in Photoshop. Instead, I'm going to tell my partner to do some seriously bizarre shit. But like I said, I kind of like it.

The saddest part about it all, however, is that I think that I am slowly discovering that I may be one of those unfortunate souls who's ambition exceeds their talent, who's ideas are just a little too impossible, and who's arms are just a little too short. I stretch myself way far out, and end up losing my balance. I land on my face, and it really hurts.

But like I said; I kind of like it.

SNOW WAY! OH SNOW YOU DIDN'T! SNOOOOW YYYEEEAAAHHHH!

2009-01-28T08:28:00.000-08:00

I remember hearing people talk last year about how fickle IU was about canceling classes. They made it sound as if the four horsemen could show up at President McRobbie's house, and he would sigh, and say lazily, "Meh, make sure those kids make it to Intro to Poly Sci."

However, a little e-mail showed up this morning, saving me from trudging through a foot of snow at 8AM to the art building. Also, it gave me a link to the most hyperbolic website banner I have ever seen.

"EXPLOSION, FIRE, TERRORIST ATTACK, BIOHAZARD - BE PREPARED, ASSHOLE."

I just can't help but love how vague "EXPLOSION" reads. Since TERRORIST ATTACK and BIOHAZARD are all ready covered, they make it sound like the Union will spontaneously burst at any moment, sending hundreds bowling balls, cups of coffee, and Whoppers flying towards Ballentine Hall.

Since it's a snow day, and I've got nothing else to do, I've made myself a little mock banner in my -ahem- ~free~ Photoshop that I think IU should adapt. Seriously. These things are much scarier than Tornadoes.

Now all that's left for me to do is to wrap up in a Snuggie (TM) or a Slanket (TM), get some hot coco going, and get my Citizen Kane on.

UPDATE!: IU just sent me a link to an MP3 (because, you know, typing is so. hard.) of IUPD's main man explaining the situation. He sounds very uncomfortable with public speaking, and may or may not know what the internet is. ("Go to... H-T-T-P-COLON-BACKSLASH-BACKSLASH....")

https://www.blackboardconnected.com/messageboxes/190201/1665173.wav

2009-01-20T19:20:00.000-08:00

It takes a quite a bit to warm me up - make me smile.

This song, however, has no trouble whatsoever.

I have a big place in my heart for cute little indie bands like Matt & Kim and Tegan & Sara. They're just way too adorable and earnest.

What I Talk About When I Talk About Photography

2009-01-07T21:09:00.001-08:00

I remember once, I came home from high school, with a backpack full of homework, and I just kind of threw it to the floor and I went and laid down on the couch and snoozed until my dad came home. He shook me, to wake me up and said, "Boy, it looks like you've got a lot of homework. Are you going to start working on it?" In my half-sleep weariness, I kind of mumbled, "Fuck it, it doesn't matter," and rolled back onto my side. My dad just chuckled and said, "What a rebel; what a free spirit."

To a certain extent, I've always been pretty laid back. I'm uptight about my personal stuff - guitars, computers, razors, etc - but I roll with the punches. People constantly let me down, but I never get too bent out of shape about it. I've never fought someone for real. That is to say, I've never fought someone because I'm mad at them.

Generally, when I get mad, or stressed out, I do a couple of things. I get really sad and eat, or I get really sad and buy something, usually music. I sound like a little girl, but it's true. It's how I cope.

However, at the end of this latest semester, I had a major freak-out. I just kind of fell apart in public, and it was really, really embarrassing.

It was a perfect storm of bullshit, really. I had a couple of papers due, and on top of that, I had this massive photography project due, the professor for which - and this wasn't her fault, because she was sick - rarely showed up. So one friday, I went to the dark room, and for maybe four hours, I toiled. Eventually, I ran out of paper, and since I was low on cash, decided that this would be it for the photography project. It wasn't my best work, and as I packed up my things, I heard exactly what she would say, what was wrong, etc. I knew what was wrong with the photos. I just didn't have the time or money to fix it.

I walked out of the darkroom, and checked out, and put on my coat. I turned around, and guess who I saw? The professor, walking right towards me.

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm late, can I see what you've done today?"

And I cringed. We sat down, and she flipped through what I'd done, and just kind of nodded and said, "Yeah, ok," every now and then. Then she laid everything down, and out of the ten required prints, she pulled five out and said, "These are O.K., the rest, I think, you should re-think."

I copped a 'tude. Really, I was fed up, and as politely as I could, I explained my situation, and said, basically, "Well, I mean, you really should consider re-doing these."

I was frustrated, and we sat there, going back and forth, not really saying anything new for a while. Eventually, I just told her I needed to go, and said that I'd think about what she said. I ran/walked out of the art building.

I went home and had a real good time with some friends. The next morning, I sent her an e-mail explaining my snide tone:

"...Second of all, what I was trying to say earlier (And I'm not exactly sure how well I am saying it here) is that I've tried making prints of nearly all the negatives that I thought were interesting, and a majority of those had big problems with them (scratches, dust, dust even after cleaning them, etc.)...

I am above all pretty happy with the prints that I've made for this project, though. While I understand that they may not be the most effective, I personally very much enjoy them. I made them for me - not for a grade. That's not to say that I don't want a good grade, or disrespect your class, or anything like that. I'm just trying to do the best I can, please myself, and then, finally, please the grade requirements.

(And not to get preachy, or whatever, but that's why I signed up for this class. I like taking photos, and I like being in the darkroom. It's like yoga, or meditation, or something for me. I just sincerely and earnestly love it. I don't have any grand plans - I don't want to change the world, or say something important and meaningful that will affect people through art. It's just something that I really like to do.)"

And that is 100% true. Probably a little to revealing for a e-mail with a professor, but whatever. I really just love being in the darkroom. It's always so mellow, and everyone is excited to see what develops, unless they're some art school prick. I guess it's what runners feel like. Why people enter marthons. It's not for any kind of glory or recognition. It's for the betterment of you.

"The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow. Sing in the shower. Dance in the rain. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something."
-Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

2009-01-06T13:27:00.000-08:00

EWWW (i.e., AWESOME.)

Sincerly, is this where we as Americans are heading? How long until all you can eat hamburgers? All you can eat steak? All in the name of "Hungry Consumer Relief."

God Bless 'Merica.

(BONUS: A time lapse of a pancake eating contest under this new "Hungry Consumer Relief Plan." Category: Education.)

"I'm A Wheel. I Will Turn On You." - Wilco's A Ghost is Born

2009-01-02T10:50:00.000-08:00

Generally, birthday presents make you happy. They make you smile. They are good-times things, and that is that. Sweaters, books, gift-cards. They always given in hopes of making the person feel good, to say thanks, or something. They generally aren't huge, depressing downers.

I was going to write a long blog/list of things that remind me of Christmas, or Christmas things that are actually good instead of horrible, but I didn't work very hard on it, and, well, it's a little to late now. But there was a section at the end of things that have absolutely nothing to do with Christmas or the holidays, but nonetheless are inseparable from winter in my mind. A Ghost Is Born is one of those things.

My mom always makes me make a wish list for my birthday, and legitimately gets mad if I don't do it, or put if off. Honestly, at this point, I don't really need anything, and working for the big things I want makes me love them so much more. Anyways, I always make it, and fill it with CDs and Books that I need, usually things that fill in cracks in my collection. Which mainly the only reason I received A Ghost is Born for my birthday. Which turned out to be more a kick in the face and a jab to the gut rather than a hug and a kiss from your mother. Which was no fault of her's. How was she supposed to know what sad, off-white apartment depression laid inside?

At every turn Ghost hits you hard and then sulks in the corner. If Yankee Hotel Foxtrot was simple heartbreak, than Ghost is the resulting clinical depression. It's hard for me not to compare the albums. YHF is a summer album for me, when you kind of miss your school friends, but everything is kind of o.k. Ghost is defiantly winter, when at the start, say, December, you feel kind of nostalgic. But by the end of January, you want to, as Lewis Black said, "Slit your wrists, if only to see some fucking color." YHF was recorded on warm, vintage magnetic tape. It has ambient, analog, playful, buzzes that fill up any empty cracks. Ghost was recorded onto a computer, using ProTools. It is sparse, and with the exception of maybe "Wishful Thinking," - and even then, the ambient noises here evoke more of that dark purple winter sky that reflects off the snow and makes it look kind of pink - there are few extra noises. From the soft white cracking of an egg on the front and back of the album sleeve, to the title A Ghost is Born - which in its self if a nice, almost sweet way of saying someone just died (I realize that is pretty obvious - there is no trick to that title. But it blows me away every time I think about it.) - this is a really, really bleak affair.

What I find remarkable about the album is its constant wavering between hope and depression, like a guy sitting in a chair with his head down that thinks, "Hey, maybe it's not that bad," and then looks up and sees that the sky is an impenetrable sea of grey - he puts his head back down. It starts out with the moody "At Least That's What You Said," which starts quiet, and then moves into those painful staccato jabs. It's straight from the Neil Young playbook, but played like Sonic Youth on anti-depressants.

The album then moves into "Hell is Chrome," which starts out with a seemingly optimistic, almost gospel piano intro, but then pauses. The optimism is short lived. "When the devil came..." God damnit, Jeff Tweedy! Are you ever fucking happy???

Time and time again this happens. The arguably most "pop-y" song on the album, "Hummingbird," has one of the best Beatles-esque, "happy" piano plucks, but is undercut with the sorrow of the line, "His goal in life was to be an echo." Even the "fuck-it-all" rock 'n' roller of the album, "I'm a Wheel," comes packaged with a bitter caveat - "I'm a Wheel. / I will turn on you." However, it's arguable that the album gets happier as it progresses. The final track, "The Late Greats," (one of my favorite songs ever, and definitely my favorite to hear played live) is again, a kind of pop song, is filled with words like, "never," "can't" "won't ever" and "too old." But there is a definite change here from "At Least That's What You Said." It's no longer depressed, sad-sack, feelin' sorry for yerself navel-gazing. It's optimistic. It's nostalgia. Tweedy is saying, "I guess it's o.k.," and smiling. Grinning, maybe. Probably.

The fact that my birthday is in late November, the time of year when the sky gets that suicide-grey, probably has a lot to do with why I can't pull this CD out of December. The first time I played it in its entirety was the day after Thanksgiving, driving downtown in my Mother's car with David and Sara Orme to see the lighting of the tree. We got stuck waiting for a train to pass when "Hummingbird" came on, and I remember Dave Matthew's lovin', John Mellencamp worshipin', lil' cutie Sara Orme asked me who this was. And I fumbled with my words. "It's uh, um, uh, Wilco." There is no real reason for why I took me so long to come up with that response. There was no reason for me to stutter. But I shivered as I said it, like I was embarrassed, or scared. And I couldn't come up with a decent reason why.

My nineteenth birthday was kind of a strange one. It was my first one in college, and it was weird, because in High School, kids would give you high-fives and hugs, and you know, actually speak to you. But on that day, in that dorm where I knew about three people, no one said anything. Even my own roommate didn't know it was my birthday until my mom unexplainably showed up to give me presents. I'm not the type to go around saying these things, you know. That's not to say that everyone forgot. My facebook wall flooded, and I got a few calls. It was a little depressing, not having anyone there to say Happy Birthday in person. That's a lie. My friend Kaitlin tapped on the window and said Happy Birthday. But I think she was the only one.

And I'm not saying I was angry about it. Really. It was just kind of weird.

And I think that's a good representation of my first semester of college. I'm a quiet, shy, and apparently always look like I'm about to kill myself, even when I feel the complete opposite. I have a hard time meeting people, because it apparently takes a really long time to get to know me, and to feel comfortable around me, and for me to feel comfortable around new people. So I meet approximately two people that I felt comfortable around my first semester. Two.

Two.

But to everyone else, I became stuttering mess. I feel like I try to hard when I meet new people, and so I just try to be myself, and then I start thinking too much, and start forgetting how to act, and talk a lot of bullshit that I don't believe. And I tried to work on that my first semester, but I think it backfired. I started stuttering whenever I met someone new. And I became ashamed of that, and so I just started not meeting people. I stayed in my room, and listened to Joy Division and Daft Punk through headphones. By myself.

By myself.

A Ghost is Born really resonated with me that first semester because, well, I was having a hard time, and I feel like Jeff was too. My problem was much more social, and Jeff's was a little more existential, but I mean, don't we all try relate to art? Don't we all want to feel apart of something, be it a group of douche-bag hipsters who blare Sufjan Stevens out of their dorm rooms, or be it it Holden Caufield or an album about depression?

Anyways, that problem grumbled under the surface of my skin for a long time, a long with some other things, until I just stopped caring. And somethings got lost, I'm not going to lie, and I'm slowly getting them back, this time fixed, but I mean, I had my "The Late Greats" moment. I'm pretty cheerful now. I smile, and laugh. I mean, where would we be without wishful thinking?

2008-12-28T15:12:00.000-08:00

A few very poetic, very bizarre moments have happened in the last 24 hours.

I was driving to Bloomington for a friend's birthday last night, and it was dark, and the roads were that deep purple and the headlights were that inside-of-an-orange orange. It was warm, and it would have been considered warm even if it wasn't December 27th, and I was driving my mother's car with the windows down, the moon-roof open. I neglected to bring any CDs with me, so I was forced to listen to the radio, which is generally something I really hate to do. WTTS is about the only one I can stand, and that's what I listened to.

And so it was dark, like I said, and it felt a little like Spring, because the air was wet, like Spring is right after all the snow has melted. And the corny old DJ on WTTS played some corny songs, "Shout" by Tears for Fears, "Desert Rose" by Sting, etc. I wasn't having a whole lot of fun listening to it, until for seemingly no reason, the DJ played "Standing Outside A Broken Phone Booth With Money In My Hand" by Primitive Radio Gods.

It's rare that everything lines up, that the right song is playing at the right time of the night, and you just kind of smile a little bit to a really obscure song from ten years ago. It's even rarer that you feel like it was done just for you.

...

When I got to my apartment in Bloomington, I saw the lights were on. I kind of freaked a little bit, because, I mean, why would the lights be on if no one has been in that apartment for a week? Turns out Drake came down too, and for some reason, we really never considered that we both know the birthday girl. Anyways, to kill some time, I followed him to Ross' apartment, and we played Nintendo 64 for a half hour. I called the birthday girl, and asked her if we could come over. She said:

"Yep. Jus be careful! It's hurricanein' outside!"

I kind of laughed, because I thought she was just being goofy, but when we went down to our cars, and I opened the door to the parking lot, the door FLEW open, and rain stared pounding my face, even though I was still inside. Some friend of Ross' was with us, and she started screaming and running, and we all kind of started laughing hard and running through the hard rain. Again, it was just a really nice moment.

...

At the party, it was loud, and hot, and everyone was laughing and just general good times all around. I can't say I'm great friends with Brad Natterstad, but we like a lot of the same music, and if the moment is right, Brad is able to get me away from being a big old turd and actually have some fun. Someone put on "Ready for the Floor" by Hot Chip, and Brad popped his head up from his chair, like a prairie dog, and shouted, "OH SHIT!" He made the clang-y synth noises with his mouth, and danced over to me, and pretty much picked me up out of my chair. Resistance was futile, and I ended up singing "You're my number one guy" at the top of my lungs like everyone else.

...

On the way out of Bloomington, I stopped at Best Buy and used up my Aunt's gift card on Bruce Springsteen's Darkness On The Edge Of Town. As I pulled out on to 45/46, with the Boss screaming sad love songs at me, I saw two people, a man and a woman, walking on the side of the road. The man was wearing overalls, a green and black stripped sweater, glasses, and a scarf. His hair was dirty and curly. I don't remember what the girl was wearing, really. I sweatshirt, I think. Purple. But what was really interesting is that they were talking and laughing, and I didn't notice until right before I vrooomed by them that the guy had a guitar slung across his back. It was corny and great all at the same time.

...

The thing about Darkness on the Edge of Town is that it is the perfect length for a trip to or from Bloomington. Had I not made a extra stop on the way home, I would have pulled into the garage right as the last piano chords of the song "Darkness on the Edge of Town" fade out. However, I got off on County Line, instead of Southport, so that I could - boy, this is embarrassing - get some ice cream from Ritters. But I'm glad I did. It was yummy, and I saw something really interesting.

Somewhere along County Line, there is this really short bridge. It can't be longer than fifteen feet, and I have no idea what it's purpose is. Regardless, jumping off it wouldn't really do any damage. But yet when I rolled across it, there was this haggard old man, really sad looking, sitting on the rail of the bridge facing the street. Had he been facing the river, or ditch, whatever, I would have been concerned. But he was just facing the road, cars passing feet in front of his face. To be honest, he looked a lot like Mickey Rourke in the upcoming film, The Wrestler.

Anyways, it was a haunting image. I keep thinking about it, and I don't know how to feel.

2008-12-26T07:35:00.000-08:00

I've had a hard time falling asleep, lately. Mostly because I'm back in Indianapolis, and the only mattress available is the twin size bed I've slept on for the past 18 years, before I moved to Bloomington, at least. It's starting to show signs of wear. One part is lower than the other - we never flipped it. You can feel the springs. It's like one side of an Iron Maiden.

So I've been sleeping out by the fireplace, on the ground, which, in all honesty, is supremely superior to the mattress in my room. However, it's still pretty uncomfortable, and as such, I have a hard time getting comfortable, and a hard time getting comfortable. Sleep tends to come in 3-4 hour, dream filled bursts.

I thought tonight's dream was particularly bizarre. Or, at least, I remember it pretty well.

Most of it took place in a high school auditorium/gymnasium (It had theater style seats, but the floors were that weird, glossy concrete gyms have on the upper levels). Everyone was filing in, and in the center of the room was a gigantic, old, cabinet style T.V.

And it was terrifying. I was so afraid of it, for whatever reason. Maybe it's because those TVs have a lot of personally, and kind of look like sad people. Also, it was attached awkwardly to the ceiling by chains, like a beast of something. It was ten feet tall, and looked like it was about to fall on top of everyone.

And... I just walked away for a minute, and I've really forgotten most of it. I snuck out of it, somehow (the convocation, that is), and ended up Downtown, buying records. Technicolor Port-a-Potties. Those were somewhere in there. So were Glynniss and Stephanie Walsh.

I'm sorry. Dreams are never as interesting to anyone else.

2008-12-21T17:49:00.000-08:00

I've gone off the deep end.

I think that I'm far to sentimental to be a business man or anything like that. But I'm not nearly talented enough to be any kind of artist.

I'm mostly terrified that I'll end up writing movie reviews for the Fort Wayne Gazette.

Or even worse, I'll own a record store, and write pithy one-line reviews of albums on the best sellers rack.

Um Yes, Girl. Make You, Uh, Undress Girl.

2008-12-19T07:55:00.000-08:00

I get the feeling that a lot of people think I'm taking Survey of Hip Hop as a blow off class next semester. And in all honesty, an online, eight weeks class that is, uh, about hip-hop sounds like a pretty laid back class. But in actuality, it sounded like the least dull Culture Studies class I could find. Seriously. It was either this or Early Chinese Painting.

Also, I am honestly interested in learning about hip-hop. Regardless of how you feel about it, it has become the new pop, the new collective musical plateau where we all can point to songs we all know. What I mean to say is, other than The Beatles, people mostly find even ground and come together singing along to "Lollipop" now a-days.

I have a hard time describing what I like about hip-hop. I like the big beats, and the soul samples. But saying that sounds an awful lot like saying you like Jackson Pollock for all the pretty colors. I think there is something awesome and legitimate about hip-hop, and I'd like to learn more about it.

Anyways, I'm pretty stoked for it. Last night, I looked up what books I need to buy for next semester. Three books are required for Survey of Hip Hop. One is called, simply;

YES YES Y'ALL

2008-12-17T22:25:00.001-08:00

It's strange, up until 35 hours ago, I had absolutely no desire to go home.

"I can stay up all night and sleep all day and read and record and write and watch movies all winter break."

But then my dad said the following eight words.

"We got the fireplace going the other day."

And I was instantly homesick.

2008-12-13T15:01:00.000-08:00

The scene: House Party
Characters: Myself, A Boyfriend, and A Girlfriend. Friends of mine. They are drunk.

Boyfriend: (To me) Yeah dude, if they come to Chicago, you, me... hang on dude, I've got to piss.

[Boyfriend starts to walk to the restroom, and gets sidetracked by a cool poster on the wall.]

Girlfriend: Quick! I'm going to pee before him!

[She quickly dashes to the restroom, ducks inside, and locks the door.]

Boyfriend: Hey! What the fuck! [He knocks on the door.] What the hell! Ahahaha. [He knocks again.] Seriously. [He is serious for a moment, and then cracks up.]

[Then he starts to bang on the door violently.]

Girlfriend: [Shouting] HANG ON!!!

Boyfriend: [Laughing as the words leave his mouth.] Come on! I want to piss with you!

My Year In Lists - My 35 Favorite Songs from 2008

2008-12-13T06:51:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I thought I'd give this a try. Hush if you think it's pretentious. I just wanna stretch myself some.

Anyways, I'm not saying that these are the best songs of this year - for one, that would be exceedingly pompous of myself, and this list would look radically different. These are simply the songs that stuck, the ones that I found myself putting on mixtapes and listening to over and over.

And why 35? Because that's as small a multiple of five that I could get it too. Really, I love every song on here.

35. Strawberry Swing -Coldplay

While I like Coldplay, they have a tendancy to go over board, to over do it. They sometimes come off as epic for the sake of epicness, hyperbolic for the sake of making girls swoon. That said, "Strawberry Swing" does the very opposite. While it's not stripped down, really, the insturmentation is sparse in a way that feels full. Toms, plucking bass, a reversed guitar part, and Chris Martin. Untill the bridge, where an acoustic guitar part comes in, and seems to change everything. It's just a very pleasent song, with cutesy, twee lyrics. "The most perfect day," etc. And the strangest part of this whole song is that I can actually taste strawberries when I listen to it. Weird shit.

34. Let the Journey Begin - Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly.

I can't say I was a huge fan of Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly.'s new album, but this opener really made me want to like it. Again, it's a song that that just sounds good - ear candy, if you will. It's nothing groundbreaking - just a nice pop song to bop along too.

33. Who's Gonna Save My Soul? - Gnarls Barkley

Upon release, I feel like I kind of unfairlly dissmissed Gnarls Barkley's The Odd Couple. As I go back to it, I'm finding more and more that their are some great songs on it - "Open Book," "Going On." This is argueably the darkest song on the album, and most likely the darkest song the duo has ever recorded. Cee-lo's voice is amazing, as always, and full of pain. "Because what about what I need!?" "Oooh, I know I'm out of control now... Tired enough to lay my old soul down." This stuff is bleak, man. Cee-Lo asks, "Who's gonna save my soul now?" Who responds? No one.

32. Hercules' Theme - Hercules and the Love Affair

It's pretty hard for me to write about dance music, as it seems like it's something that has more to do with the waist than the head, and really should just be experienced to understand it. That said, this appears to be the most conflicted disco song I've ever heard. It transforms Hercules from a blockhead hunk into something more complex and tragic. The song is full of anxiety that finally builds in the home stretch with a ascending bass lines, and never seems to go anywhere, like some kind of sexual tension that makes men go insane.

31. Standing Next To Me - The Last of the Shadow Puppets

What I love about this song is the speed of it - It doesn't seem to stay in one place, and races forward, like this is an uncomfortable topic for the narrator. I don't really know what else to say about it other than I love it.

30. Divine - Sebastien Tellier

Cheerful french disco. It's hard for me to tell weither this song really is that cheerful, or if it's some kind of ironic jab, with the caveman-esque Sebastian Tellier grining the whole time. Either way, this guy doesn't take himself to seriously, and the breakdown about two minutes is a wonderfully retro moment that is as touching as it his hilarious.

29. Ladies of the World - Flight of the Conchords

Why the Conchords really work, I feel, is because if you were to wipe out all the ridiculous lyrics, you would still have really great genre songs. That's not to say that Bret and Jermaine aren't great lyrisists - "Oh you hermaphrodite lady-man-ladies, with your sexy lady bits, and your sexy man bits too, even you must be in to you oo ooo!" cracks me up every single time. "We're talking 'bout brunettes, not fighter jets!" And Bret's spoken-word breakdown? His strange accent? Hilarious. Brilliant. But the sexy lounge-funk of this song really is remarkably catchy, and the ascending voices at the end of the LP version legitamately give me chills.

28. Where D'you Go? - Jamie Lidell

It's pretty hard to take Jamie Lidell seriously. I mean, he's a freak. The glasses, the bathrobes, the manic prancing. And His music doesn't really help. This is an exceedingly upbeat song about losing your woman. Handclaps really don't make you any more sympathetic, Jamie.

27. Love In This Club - Usher

I don't give a shit. This is a great song.

26. An Eluardian Instance - Of Montreal

Picking out highlights from Skeltal Lamping is in some ways trying to pick out your favorite part of a Girl Talk album. That is to say, it's like trying to say which puppie in the window is the cutest. I mean, they're puppies! They're all adorable!

However, I feel like this song is a stand out. The horns are triumphant - there is victory here. It bounces along in typical Of Montreal fashion, until disolving into a a punchy, wispered synth section. "Our last summer as indiependents - do you remember?" (As a side note, this section sounds remarkably like the Wii Shop Channel Music). Every moment of Of Montreal's discography is sexual pop funk, but few moments are as triumphant and affecting as this.

25. Make Love All Night Long - TV On The Radio

While not on the album proper, "Make Love All Night Long" is by far my favorite part of Dear Science. The whole album was a departure for TV on The Radio, delving tepidly into "Prince via Radiohead" territory. I felt like a majority of the album felt forced, as if they weren't willing to fully delve into this persona they wanted to be. This song, however, I think is them saying, "Fuck it," and embracing it all. My favorite part? "I"m not playing! I'm gonna make love all night long."

24. Palmitos Park - El Guincho

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't get into El Guincho's Alegranza, which is a shame, as much as I was looking forward to it. It's just that it came out on the very day that I decided to start wearing sweatshirts, as the weather had started to get chillier. And so much of that album is tied to sunshine and summer. It just sounded wrong to hear this song as leaves started to fall.

What I love about this song is that it feels like a summer road trip in a car with all the windows down, sunglasses on, smiling.

23. Stay Positive - The Hold Steady

I think Stay Positive is a much more intense album than Boys and Girls in America. It's more angry than nostalgic, and because of that, it seems less happy. This song is the apex of that album, where I feel Craig Finn finally gets too frustrated, and starts ranting shouting. "There's gonna come a time / where the scene will seem less sunny / It'll probably get druggy / and the kids will seem too skinny / There's gonna come a time / when she's gonna have to go / with whoever will get her the highest" resonates even more as I find myself entering a part of IU where teal skinny jeans and ironic t-shirts seem more and more acceptable.

The saddest part of this whole song is that I don't think that Finn thinks their is anything we can do to change this. He sings, "We've got to stay positive," not with in a proud, hopeful shout, but with a broken, meloncholic yelp.

22. Everything With You - The Pains of Being Pure At Heart

I have a soft spot in my heart for bands that just write pop songs with lots and lots of gain. It's just a remarkable sentimental song that is on the verge of saccharine, but is too personal sounding to really become annoying.

21. Walcott - Vampire Weekend

Bruce Springsteen wrote about leaving New Jersey. I've never been there, but every time I think about it, I just think of green-ish brown skies, and dirty streets. It seems like some place that you definitely want to escape.

And for a while, I just thought that was the reason Springsteen wanted to escape. But the older I got, the more I realized that wanting to run away as fast as you can from the place you were born is just a natural desire of teenagers. And that is what this song is about.

It's been a long time since I listened to Vampire Weekend's album all the way through, but if I remember correctly, this is probably the fastest song on the album. That, along with the word "tonight," this song ushers in a frantic, driving desire to leave and never look back. Fantastic.

Also, I was obsessed with this song during finals week back in May, and probably played it three to four times a day, over and over. Drake really hates this song.

20. Poor Jackie - Man Man

You can call them out for aping Tom Waits, but whatever. Not that I don't love the man, but sometimes Waits' voice is just too grating for me.

This song contains some of my favorite lyrics definitely of this year, maybe of all time. "I don't see what everybody sees in your sexy body / All I see is a shallow grave trapped inside a pretty face," "Rescue me is written on your bed. / Home is where the bullet lands as it travels through your head," and "All I need to set me free is for someone someday to murder me," are all remarkable to me.

It's amazing how many times I listened to this 8 minute epic this summer. It starts with a depressed waltz and then turns into a manic stomp, builds into a trumpet freak out, and then ends with a ghostly New Orleans chant. Not the most uplifting stuff, for sure.

19. American Boy [Feat. Kanye West] - Estelle

I feel kind of bad when I write about pop songs and hip-hop. I feel like often it's just about the groove, and the simple smiles that it can evoke. There is no huge social commentary going on here, and it's not overly sexual like, say, Flow-Rida's "Low." The instrumentation isn't overtly bizarre, or anything. It's just a smooth, nice, pop song.

18. Bounce [Feat. N.O.R.E.] - MSTRKRFT

Calling something a party anthem seems kind of ridiculous, but really, this song doesn't say anything other than that. "All I do is party, ha ha ha! All I do, Drink my brew, I get high too." Unashamed, in your face, drunk. Intense beats, intense synths, intense vocals. Why this song isn't everywhere is beyond me.

17. My Year In Lists - Los Campesinos!

This song isn't even two minutes long, but it accomplishes a lot. Calling out the hyperbolic silliness of young relationships, it nevertheless makes it all seem very romantic. Also, the following is brilliant:

"And you must confess that at times like these
Hopefulness is tantamount to hopelessness
And I accept that it's time for a change but not in
Places like this with people like these."

I'd like to see what this guy will write about when he exhausts the whole MySpace/LiveJournal romance thing. It seems like he might be able to write some really great stuff.

16. Vanished - Crystal Castles

I own, listen to, and enjoy a lot of electronic music that doesn't do anything other than present complex grooves and beats, without really building a mood other than "INTENSE DANCE TIME." What I love about this song is that the GameBoy lead synth line really does evoke a kind of creepy cave scene from Legend of Zelda or something. And the vocals sound robotic ghosts. ROBOT GHOSTS, EVERYONE.

15. Kim & Jessie - M83

A girl walks into a high school, and then the slow-motion starts. We see the new-wave kids with Flock Of Seagull haircuts. We see the goths, the nerds, and a jock making out with a cheerleader. A rich girl walks by, and makes a dissatisfied face. The director is John Huges. The soundtrack is by M83.

m83 has always been cinematic, but never has Anthony Gonzalez been able to evoke equal parts Kate Bush, The Breakfast Club, and MBV's Loveless so successfully.

Also, a guitar or something sounds like the cry of a flying dinosaur. And that is a pretty fantastic feat.

14. Strangers In The Wind - Cut / Copy

http://rawkblog.dreamhosters.com/cc-strangers.mp3

The more and more that I listen to the latest Cut / Copy album, the more and more I want to drive my car around at night with the windows down. It's a new-wavey, dance act that doesn't sound retro, nor necessarily futuristic, but merely modern men using the tools they have to play songs about the city at night. And it's catchy as fuck / herpes.

13. The Kids Don't Stand A Chance (Chromeo Remix) - Vampire Weekend

I always liked the idea of the closing track on Vampire Weekend, but felt that it was two slow and cheerful to really sound important, or even good. But good ol' Chromeo managed to change one of my least favorite songs into a delightful dance song. They added funky drama, and did it with a grin. Which is exactly what the song needed.

12. Human - The Killers

I understand that this song is more than a little exaggerated and silly. I understand that it is not nearly as catchy as anything on Hot Fuss nor as campy as anything on Sam's Town. I also understand that Brandon Flower's doesn't really make any sense when he says, "Are we human, or are we dancer [sic]?" I don't care. But can't a song be meaningful for no reason? Can't a song have sentence fragments and still be on the Billboard Top 100?

11. Pop Lie - Okkervil River

"Sweetly sung and succinctly stated." Really. I think he said it best.

10. Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It) - Beyonce

The top ten. OK. Again, this is just a great pop song. It's pretty frustrating for me not to be able to really express why it's great, other than it just has a great hook, and the video is pretty steamy, and it's just fun.

9. Make It So - Daedelus

ERROR: Distinctly electronic, wonderfully soulful. The song seemingly gets bigger with each verse, adding some new whirr or wiz to the mix, maybe some harder beats. And the monotonous chant is exceedingly desperate and melodic, raising and lowering, hypnotizing your ears.

8. The Escapist - The Streets

Earlier this year, Los Campesinos! sang, "This is no existential crisis." Clearly, it is. Here, Mike Skinner is sing-rapping his way through the meaning of life. He's abandoned the grimey beats of his past, for better or worse. Here, for the better. It makes it all seem more real and relatable. Everything is Borrowed at times leaned to heavily on the "I'm standing on the ledge of a cliff," with out really meaning it, or worse, just saying it to say it. It wasn't really believable. However, the simple string plucks, the organ, and stuttering drums really make me want to tell him to back away from the edge. All of Skinner's work is self-reflective, to an extent. Sometimes it's about returning DVDs and drinking tea with your mom. Sometimes its about what you do with yourself when you seemingly have everything - fame, money, girls. And sometimes its about why exactly you should keep living or not. And that is usually when Skinner is at his best.

7. Roads? Where We're Going We Don't Need Roads - Marnie Stern

"I PRESENT TWO SIDES:
MY HOPELESSNESS, AND MY FAITH
MY EGO, AND MY HEART
MY FEELINGS, AND MY BRAIN."

I've already gushed about my crush on Marnie Stern, but this is my favorite track from This is It..., and it has little to do with the fact that it quotes Back to the Future (Ok, it kind of has a lot to do with that). But the ridiculous, sunglasses-putting-on, propulsive excitement about the future in the Doc's last line in BTTFPt.1 is an excellent mirror to the fist pumping, propulsive tap solos from Marnie's guitar. It's hopeful and conflicted, but keeps racing forwards, looking for the next great moment that life has to offer.

6. Weekend - The Sea And Cake

I hesitate calling the Sea and Cake's music pretty, because that almost comes off as an insult. But really, it seems like these guys polish there music so much that it comes of just sounding excellent all the time. The down side of that, for me, at least, is that like an other slick sounding band, Steely Dan, they lose a lot of emotion, and end up sounding kind of alienated from the heart. It makes it seem a little less sincere. That said, the Sea and Cake get a little (gasp!) reckless here - the bass part takes a few seconds to click into the right timing, and the drums seem just a wee haphazard. And let's not forget the glitchy, bleep-y synth part that seems to be on it's own time. I only wish this song had come out in the summer, as it, and the video, evoke those wonderful memories of Summer Camp and mosquito bites and hot dogs.

5. Screaming Hand - Jay Reatard

I hesitated to get into Jay Reatard so much. I heard really great things about him, but was tepid. I mean, really, he kind of looks like Andrew W.K. But really, he makes some fantastic punkish music. It's playful and wistful, thinking about the past but also remaining hopeful about the next party. Again, It's hard me to say anything other than I love it.

4. Let The Beat Build - Lil Wayne

Not to sound like a complete douche (but I probably will), one thing about living in Indiana, and constantly checking the internet for new bands, is that so often I'm listening to things that others have never heard of, and generally have adverse reactions to. That's changed slightly since I've gone to college, as in, I've met people that know who Tom Waits is, or dance to LCD Soundsystem.

What I like about Lil Wayne is that he's not an artist or an icon or anything like that anymore. For me, and for my friends, he's a collective cultural understanding. He's like Romeo and Juliet, or "Luke, I am your father." "Oh, 'A Milli' is on.. (Yawn) 'Sicilian bitch with long hair!' Yeah, alright..."

Regardless, this is my favorite track off of Tha Carter III. I think it's the best sample, and the best beat, and the best rap on the album. LIke the other standout, "A Milli," it's surprisingly sparse for a hip-hop song, and it's just proof that Weezy really can turn a crack rock into a mountain.

3. Ready for the Floor - Hot Chip

I have no idea what this song is about. I like to think that it is about friendship, as lines like 'Why don't you open up, we talk," and "You're my number one guy," would suggest. And I like that. "I am a ready for a fall." I can take whatever you give me. "Why don't you open up? We can talk." I'm here for you. "You're my number one guy." Ain't that sweet?

2. You Are The Best Thing - Ray LaMontagne

My dad is a stubborn old guy. He hates hip-hop, and refuses to listen to it or acknowledge it, unless it is Tupac's "California Love," or House of Pain's "Jump Around," which I strongly susspect that he only likes because of that scene in Mrs. Doutbifire. He says rap, and modern music in general, is soulless. And to a point, I'll agree with that. Dance, Hip-Hop, and Indie rock all pride themselves on being a bit more stoic than anything that came out before themselves. That said, when a guy like Jamie Lidell, or a girl like Alicia Keys, or a guy like Ray LaMontagne come out, all with wonderful voices, my dad and I both seem to perk up. Which is strange, considering our mutual obsessions with Bob Dylan.

I don't like Ray LaMontagne. From what I've heard off his albums, I just feel like the songs aren't there, and that they just aren't that interesting. But this is the sole exception. And what a wonderful exception it is. I don't care how many times or ways "You are the best thing" has been said before, when a voice like LaMontagne's gets ahold of it, it still can be mighty affecting.

1. Strange Overtones - David Byrne & Brian Eno

You can call me a fanboy, but I honestly do think this is the best song released this year, and by far the most beautiful. Bryne is, as an Indy Star review put it, both soulful and self-deprecating. "This groove is out of fashion / These beats are twenty years old." Bryne is an old man. He has gray hair. His face has wrinkles. He's seen a lot, and it would be easy for him to be mean spirited and cold. But instead, he is upbeat, and content with, once again, songs about buildings and food. This song is hopeful in a time where the economy is shit, George Bush is president, and we are in a war that doesn't quite make a whole lot of sense. Bryne knows about these things, and is constantly thinking about them. But he doesn't feel the need to be hopeful by saying things like, "We're gonna stick a boot up your ass." Instead, he says things like, "It is strong, and you are tough." That's not to say this is an anti-war song; it's far to personal to be that. But like always, Bryne's words are slippery, and don't always make sense. But also like always, they are beautiful.

Some other great songs from this year that I remembered while writing this, and feel kind of bad about not putting in:
Yes - Coldplay
Open Book - Gnarls Barkley
One Pure Thought - Hot Chip
Goodbye Leggy Blonde - Flight of the Conchords
Little Bit - Lykke Li

2008-12-09T19:48:00.001-08:00

Reasonable posts will resume as soon as classes end. For now, enjoy where the name of this blog came from. Please suck on this, because it is brilliant:

2008-11-27T18:41:00.000-08:00

When I think back about how much of my childhood was spent adoring felt and plastic animals with hands stuck up their insides, it both terrifies and amuses me to think that somewhere in the depths of Jim Henson's basement there are hundreds of googley eyes and glue sticks in boxes, and along the walls, tens of copies of Kermit, Gonzo, Elmo, Oscar, and the Count hang lifelessly, mouths open, staring on into the abyss for all of eternity.

Jungle Life! I am far away from nowhere!

2008-11-26T12:36:00.001-08:00

I am very much unashamed of saying that I absolutely love this song. It's like "Boys of Summer," "Blue Monday," and "Land Down Under" rolled into one awesome piece of pop garbage.

I listened to it so much when I was a child, as for some reason or another, it was at the end of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III: Turtles in Time soundtrack, which I owned and loved. I remember telling my dad to keep playing it over and over back when we still had his rickety Jimmy truck, which he insisted was named "Maurice." I remember once even turning it up while my dad was trying to order food from a Wendy's drive-thru.

I absolutely adore this song, and I don't even give a shit.

(I will however admit that I am very ashamed of the video. It's pretty horrible.)