So this is officially the first post since my return from New York. I'll spare you all the lengthy explanations of my feelings upon my arrival and just say, "Goddam, it sure is great to be home!" Seriously I missed all the old haunts so badly. I mean, I always thought that I appreciated my friends more than most, considering that I suffer from a type of separation anxiety when it comes to them. Still, it takes an inability to see the people you care most about to truly give you a sense of perspective.
Oh yeah, Chris is back bitch!*
*If you are a female reading this, rest assured the previous "bitch" was in no way an attack on your femininity. I'm no sexist! It actually has nothing to do with the female gender at all and is no way an assault on the fact that some humans, girls, may have vaginas. (Tranny?) No, it's merely a well placed swear word to show emphasis on my excitement about my reunion with my brother.
Anywhoodle... Now on to more negative and pessimistic things!
Don't get me wrong, I love the actual holidays of Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years. Thanksgiving is a day completely devoted to my two favorite deadly sins, gluttony and sloth. Then the Lord is born on Christmas, leading to the atonement for my previous sins, and I am given a fresh start with New Years. Basically, the holidays make me feel great. Sure there's the whole: family, hope, love through the giving of gifts, peace on earth and goodwill towards men, mumbo jumbo (which are all great). But if there's one thing I truly love it's my own personal happiness, thus the holidays rule!!
Or do they?
See the thing I hate about this winding down of the year, if you will, is the year end lists that start popping up in musical publications. Whether you're reading Paste or Spin or even browsing the "all powerful" pitchforkmedia.com, everybody wants to sell you on what they thought was "the best" of the closing year. The problem is that their opinions of what is good are completely stupid. The Jonas Brothers couldn't possibly have one of the top 50 records of the year. Just because tweens get all sorts of wet because of their flowing locks, their faux vintage style, and their prepubescent features doesn't mean that their music has any validity or business being called "the best" of anything except the best record to make me want to start my car in my garage with all the doors shut. I mean girls swooned over the Beatles, but they actually created good, new, and innovative pop music deserving of the praise it received. I mean if you can create something as artful as the White Album, I can't fault you for making girls pass out at the mere sight of you, hey man my hat's off to you. Come find me when the Jo Bros start dropping acid and writing music while experimenting with psychedelics, then we'll talk Rolling Stone. As you can probably tell, my animosity towards these lists (and "crappy" pop acts) has been simmering bellow surface for some time now, but this year, 2008, really made that hot liquid squirt out all over the place... just like Yellowstone National Park's ol' Faithful. Rolling Stone Magazine was the worst. I must admit I had lost almost all faith in the publication regardless of it's year end lists, but this years "Best 50 Album of 2008" really hammered the last nail in the coffin (see above Jonas Brothers tirade). I mean come on! My Morning Jacket's Evil Urges at number FOUR? That record sucked, HARD! The Kings of Leon's new TOTAL PIECE OF SHIT RECORD in the top twenty?!? Daaaaa Fuck? Don't even get me started on the robodump "Viva la Vida" at number 7. Come on RS you once stood for something, held validity and all. Amazing bands (the Beatles?) once dreamed of gracing your cover, which is now reserved for the likes of half naked turbo skanks such as Britney and Christina or the Fall Out Bastards, basically the scourge of the universe.
So how will I set things right? By giving you my "real" and "unforgiving" top 20 of 2008. This list will be based solely on what I think sounds awesome. Rest assured it will not be swayed by commercial appeal or accessibility. No, this is a completely narrow list of what I like and you should like too. Am I simply becoming a part of the machine that I am criticizing? Yes I am, a better part. Am I a hypocrite? Probably. But a hypocrite that cares.
Sidenote- Though this list has a number scale it has very little to do with how good these albums are in relationship to each other. Long story short, the following is a list of new records that really kicked my ass this year. I hope this isn't too confusing.
20. Deerhunter - Microcastle/ Weird Era Cont
19. Dr. Dog - Fate
18. Boris - Smile (Japanese Version)
17. Fleet Foxes - Sun Giant EP/Fleet Foxes
16. Danielson - Trying Hartz
15. Deerhoof - Offend Maggie
14. The Music Tapes - For Clouds and Tornadoes
13. Destroyer - Trouble in Dreams
12. No Age - Nouns
11. Times New Viking - Rip It Off
10. Beach House - Devotion
9. Bonnie "Prince" Billy - Lie Down in the Light
8. The Ruby Suns - Sea Lion
7. Sun Kil Moon - April
6. Brightblack Morning Light - Motion to Rejoin
5. Abe Vigoda - Skeleton
4. Mount Eerie - Black Wooden Ceiling Opening
3. Mount Eerie - Lost Wisdom
2. Department of Eagles - In Ear Park
1. Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion
Sure, the new Animal Collective doesn't actually drop till the sixth of January, technically making it a 2009 release. But hey this is my list, my blog, my rules dammit. So there... bitch!
P.S. This post is angrier and more aggressive than most just because of the topic it deals with. In summation, if certain vulgarities catch you off guard or offend you well... I'm not sorry... but at least you now know why I used them. I still love the Lord, I promise.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
On Sincere Reflections (Sad and Happy, High and Low) During My Final Week in New York City or Gas is $1.89 at Home, Fuck Yeah!
Alright, so I won't go into some lengthy explanation of why it has taken me oh so long to update this blog and simply leave it at this. I WAS BUSY GODDAMMIT! REALLY BUSY! GOD! DAMN! BUSY! There, that explains things quite effectively methinks. For the expletive sensitive reader among you, I'm sorry for the stream of GD's. It's just that I haven't gotten to swear digitally in some time and it was sort of cathartic to get a few out there right off the bat. Anywhoodle...
With all of that well out of the way I can begin this post with a clear conscience. It's here! It has finally/regretfully arrived! My last week in NYC. I say finally/regretfully because I'm facing this stage in my life with quite mixed emotions. For one, New York is da bomb and I have really enjoyed my time here and will be honestly sad to leave it's monuments in concrete and steel. On the other hand, I miss California pretty bad. Friends, family, a certain young lady, pets, cars, smog, Christmas, heat, the sun, freeways, toll-ways, five dollar packs of cigarettes, graduating from college, Carl's Junior, Del Taco, the Hat, Jack in the Box, Arby's, INO (basically I miss all Ca. fast food more than my family. Just kidding. Kinda) and a slew of other things keep me quite excited about my homecoming. But despite how appealing all that stuff sounds part of me is hesitant. I guess I've just really made this place home in the last four months. This city and me are a great pair and fit together quite nicely. We've bonded. The last week has been a little rough, as weeks in the city often are, and I began to long for home with zeal. Yet, as this moment in time draws near I am having a slightly different response than what was to be expected. But alas, the time to leave has approached and a new dawn rises, a California dawn.
So turning to new things, with the bright lights of the city slowly fading in the periphery of my mind, I've decided to compile a list of the highlights and low-lights of the experience I've accrued in this urban jungle. In remembrance of my viewing of High Fidelity recently I've decided I'll make these "Top Five" lists. Here goes nothing.
"Top Five Great Highlights of Being in New York CIty, 2008"
5. When my girlfriend kicked a man who turned out to be Jay O. Sanders, better known as Ranch Wilder from Angels in the Outfield, on the subway. Upon this realization I proceeded to lose it completely. I couldn't believe it! Me, sitting across from Ranch! Ranch Wilder! "There's no way Chris is going to believe this," I thought out loud. This emotion however was quickly subdued when I remembered that he slid "spikes up" into Danny Glover's knee when they were in the miners and I realized I couldn't respect anybody who would commit such an cruel and blatant crime. I then remembered that Melody kicked him and I let out a silent sigh of relief. He had gotten what he deserved, swift vengeance.
4. Getting caught in a torrential downpour, more like a monsoon, on Lauren's 21st birthday. For one Leah was here which makes things awesome in general, and two we got nailed by this storm out of nowhere. We were all completely unprepared and spent a solid half an hour unprotected in the elements before deciding to head for shelter. We laughed, jumped, yelled, and I screamed my new catch phrase, "This is my city!" to the soggy night air. This was an exceptionally funny night because we invited my socially awkward, half Persian half leprechaun, roommate Ario along. He was not so excited about our plight and proceeded to complain quite a bit. (Now I realize that this may seem like a low-light moment but believe me it was really quite hilarious and enjoyable.) He took a step out of the subway and was instantly turned into a drowned rat. This was both our first and last hangout. Hilarious!!!
3. Seeing Jason Scwartzman in a cafe a block away from home and giving him a solid thumbs up. He had a hearty laugh and returned to his lentil soup only to turn around and chuckle again. So nice he laughed twice. I think we'll be great friends.
2. Spending a weekend in the city with my lovely girlfriend. We nearly froze to death walking around and I'm pretty positive that I got frostbite in central park but it was well worth it. I also had a beard for this visit which was AWESOME! (Sidebar, I still have said beard and it is still AWESOME!)
1. Having Pierre Bernard sit next to me on the subway, pissed, and reading a Stargate SG1 book. Many of you sentimentalists out there may be wondering, "How in the Hell does a Pierre sighting rank higher than a weekend with the girl?" It's all in the details friends. Let's say I had merely seen Pierre Bernard walking down the street. Consider perhaps that he just happened to sit next to me on the subway and that was all. Now such an experience would rank significantly lower, a position around 4 or 5. But that's simply not what happened. It was hardly so mundane. The fact of the matter is he didn't just sit next to me on the train, he dropped into his seat like a ton of bricks, looked over, was obviously furiously full of rage, and then looked back down at his SG1 book and proceeded to read it while huffing and puffing in his fury. Coincidence? I think not? Proof of God's existence? Duh! Peak position? I rest my case...
Now on to the "Top 5 Terrible Low-Lights of Being in New York City, 2008"
5. The fact that the election of Barak Obama was terrible here in New York has nothing to do with politics or even politicians. I mean I was intentionally indifferent going into this election but found myself pulling for Barak for history's sake. My position on the political spectrum is basically not at all on the political spectrum. So needless to say it was hard for me to nail down solid support for either candidates. No it wasn't horrible because Barak won, rather it was horrible because of the students living in my building. They decided to basically riot after the announcement was made. Thousands of students poured through the halls and into the streets, screaming bloody murder. This led to police being called which in turn led to sirens and bullhorns for hours, which finally led to my not getting any sleep. Miserable. It was less surprising that an African American was elected president of the U.S. then it was to see kids I thought were illiterate cavemen become so excited by politics. You'd think they made pot legal. Oh wait... I just solved the mystery, they think he'll make pot legal.
4. I saw the first ever Denali reunion show which one would think would be a definite positive. The show was great, but paying for it twice wasn't. I was meeting Donnie and Jon there under the assumption that the show started at 8. I bought my ticket and entered only to receive a call from Don informing me that the opener didn't even go on until 11. So I went out. No ins and outs. Bummed out. I then noticed that I had lost my cigarettes. They had fallen out of my pocket on the subway. Upon this realization I discovered that I had also lost my subway card which I needed to get home. Rock bottom? Bought another ticket for the show at a whopping 17.50 later. Left bought an $81 Metro card. Good thing Maura Davis was a fox or I would have put a bullet in my head for sures. Alas I did not.
3. Somehow this girl that works at the local Starbuck's got a strange crush/infatuation on/with me. I tried to be nice but she got more abrasive and creepy. She now somehow appears everywhere I go, like a lion out of the savannah tall grass. I thus have to sneak up to the window and scope it out to make sure she isn't working before I go into Buck's and try and get an Americano.
2. The other day was one of the worst days of my life let alone in New York. I ran around trying to get my photos for my art show printed and ended up having to go back and forth between my studio and B and H Photo 4 times. It cost me 95 bucks to print my pictures and they turned out terrible, unusable even. It was raining and my cigarette broke in half. I decided that a nice Subway sandwich would brighten my spirits. So I purchased a five dollar foot long and began the trek back to my room. En route a taxi pulled over and hit a puddle sending a tidal wave of gutter water crashing down upon me. I didn't even think that actually could happen. It's so cinematic, so cliche. But I was wrong, it does and did happen, to me. It couldn't have gotten much worse than that I think. At least the plastic bag covering my sandwich did its job, keeping my food dry so that a soggy human didn't have to eat a soggy meal. Thank God for plastic.
1. Low-lights one and five have a few things in common. One is massive amounts of idiotic people and two is Barak Obama. HALLOWEEN IN NEW YORK IS SOOOO LAME. Josh, Claire, the Laurens and I went to catch a bit of the parade which seemed like a bad idea to begin with. Countless people participating in near nude debauchery just isn't my bag. However, Josh and I were lured by the prospects of millions of pieces of free candy. We envisioned people on floats with air cannons launching candy by the fistful into the crowd not unlike cheerleaders launching t-shirts into the crowd at some sporting event. WARNING: The Halloween Parade in NYC is a completely candy free. I Oh, there's plenty of disease, but absolutely no candy. REPEAT, NO CANDY! With Josh and my sugary dreams dashed upon the rocks we decided to return home, quite depressed. Then a certain sound began to ring in my ear, steel drums. This is one of my favorite instruments because its perpetual lively and happy sound, and so understandably I put my faith in these percussionists to cheer me up. A crowd began to gather and followed the marching musicians when out of nowhere they all started chanting "Obama! Obama! Obama!" to the steel drums in unison. Again it wasn't the fact that they were shouting Obama's name but that they were shouting about politics at all. If there's one thing that I can think of that Halloween isn't about it's politics. What it is about is candy. IT'S ALL ABOUT CANDY DAMMIT! And I got none. What I did get was a mobile Caribbean themed Obama rally.
So there you have it. The "Top 5's" of the good and the bad. Honestly this will probably be the last post made while I'm here. My parents arrive the day after tomorrow (which is AWESOME!) and then I leave in a week. Fear not though comrades, this blog doesn't exist in a vacuum, it spans all locations and times, hence it shant be laid to rest just yet.
Until next time kids and kitties (via California)...
With all of that well out of the way I can begin this post with a clear conscience. It's here! It has finally/regretfully arrived! My last week in NYC. I say finally/regretfully because I'm facing this stage in my life with quite mixed emotions. For one, New York is da bomb and I have really enjoyed my time here and will be honestly sad to leave it's monuments in concrete and steel. On the other hand, I miss California pretty bad. Friends, family, a certain young lady, pets, cars, smog, Christmas, heat, the sun, freeways, toll-ways, five dollar packs of cigarettes, graduating from college, Carl's Junior, Del Taco, the Hat, Jack in the Box, Arby's, INO (basically I miss all Ca. fast food more than my family. Just kidding. Kinda) and a slew of other things keep me quite excited about my homecoming. But despite how appealing all that stuff sounds part of me is hesitant. I guess I've just really made this place home in the last four months. This city and me are a great pair and fit together quite nicely. We've bonded. The last week has been a little rough, as weeks in the city often are, and I began to long for home with zeal. Yet, as this moment in time draws near I am having a slightly different response than what was to be expected. But alas, the time to leave has approached and a new dawn rises, a California dawn.
So turning to new things, with the bright lights of the city slowly fading in the periphery of my mind, I've decided to compile a list of the highlights and low-lights of the experience I've accrued in this urban jungle. In remembrance of my viewing of High Fidelity recently I've decided I'll make these "Top Five" lists. Here goes nothing.
"Top Five Great Highlights of Being in New York CIty, 2008"
5. When my girlfriend kicked a man who turned out to be Jay O. Sanders, better known as Ranch Wilder from Angels in the Outfield, on the subway. Upon this realization I proceeded to lose it completely. I couldn't believe it! Me, sitting across from Ranch! Ranch Wilder! "There's no way Chris is going to believe this," I thought out loud. This emotion however was quickly subdued when I remembered that he slid "spikes up" into Danny Glover's knee when they were in the miners and I realized I couldn't respect anybody who would commit such an cruel and blatant crime. I then remembered that Melody kicked him and I let out a silent sigh of relief. He had gotten what he deserved, swift vengeance.
4. Getting caught in a torrential downpour, more like a monsoon, on Lauren's 21st birthday. For one Leah was here which makes things awesome in general, and two we got nailed by this storm out of nowhere. We were all completely unprepared and spent a solid half an hour unprotected in the elements before deciding to head for shelter. We laughed, jumped, yelled, and I screamed my new catch phrase, "This is my city!" to the soggy night air. This was an exceptionally funny night because we invited my socially awkward, half Persian half leprechaun, roommate Ario along. He was not so excited about our plight and proceeded to complain quite a bit. (Now I realize that this may seem like a low-light moment but believe me it was really quite hilarious and enjoyable.) He took a step out of the subway and was instantly turned into a drowned rat. This was both our first and last hangout. Hilarious!!!
3. Seeing Jason Scwartzman in a cafe a block away from home and giving him a solid thumbs up. He had a hearty laugh and returned to his lentil soup only to turn around and chuckle again. So nice he laughed twice. I think we'll be great friends.
2. Spending a weekend in the city with my lovely girlfriend. We nearly froze to death walking around and I'm pretty positive that I got frostbite in central park but it was well worth it. I also had a beard for this visit which was AWESOME! (Sidebar, I still have said beard and it is still AWESOME!)
1. Having Pierre Bernard sit next to me on the subway, pissed, and reading a Stargate SG1 book. Many of you sentimentalists out there may be wondering, "How in the Hell does a Pierre sighting rank higher than a weekend with the girl?" It's all in the details friends. Let's say I had merely seen Pierre Bernard walking down the street. Consider perhaps that he just happened to sit next to me on the subway and that was all. Now such an experience would rank significantly lower, a position around 4 or 5. But that's simply not what happened. It was hardly so mundane. The fact of the matter is he didn't just sit next to me on the train, he dropped into his seat like a ton of bricks, looked over, was obviously furiously full of rage, and then looked back down at his SG1 book and proceeded to read it while huffing and puffing in his fury. Coincidence? I think not? Proof of God's existence? Duh! Peak position? I rest my case...
Now on to the "Top 5 Terrible Low-Lights of Being in New York City, 2008"
5. The fact that the election of Barak Obama was terrible here in New York has nothing to do with politics or even politicians. I mean I was intentionally indifferent going into this election but found myself pulling for Barak for history's sake. My position on the political spectrum is basically not at all on the political spectrum. So needless to say it was hard for me to nail down solid support for either candidates. No it wasn't horrible because Barak won, rather it was horrible because of the students living in my building. They decided to basically riot after the announcement was made. Thousands of students poured through the halls and into the streets, screaming bloody murder. This led to police being called which in turn led to sirens and bullhorns for hours, which finally led to my not getting any sleep. Miserable. It was less surprising that an African American was elected president of the U.S. then it was to see kids I thought were illiterate cavemen become so excited by politics. You'd think they made pot legal. Oh wait... I just solved the mystery, they think he'll make pot legal.
4. I saw the first ever Denali reunion show which one would think would be a definite positive. The show was great, but paying for it twice wasn't. I was meeting Donnie and Jon there under the assumption that the show started at 8. I bought my ticket and entered only to receive a call from Don informing me that the opener didn't even go on until 11. So I went out. No ins and outs. Bummed out. I then noticed that I had lost my cigarettes. They had fallen out of my pocket on the subway. Upon this realization I discovered that I had also lost my subway card which I needed to get home. Rock bottom? Bought another ticket for the show at a whopping 17.50 later. Left bought an $81 Metro card. Good thing Maura Davis was a fox or I would have put a bullet in my head for sures. Alas I did not.
3. Somehow this girl that works at the local Starbuck's got a strange crush/infatuation on/with me. I tried to be nice but she got more abrasive and creepy. She now somehow appears everywhere I go, like a lion out of the savannah tall grass. I thus have to sneak up to the window and scope it out to make sure she isn't working before I go into Buck's and try and get an Americano.
2. The other day was one of the worst days of my life let alone in New York. I ran around trying to get my photos for my art show printed and ended up having to go back and forth between my studio and B and H Photo 4 times. It cost me 95 bucks to print my pictures and they turned out terrible, unusable even. It was raining and my cigarette broke in half. I decided that a nice Subway sandwich would brighten my spirits. So I purchased a five dollar foot long and began the trek back to my room. En route a taxi pulled over and hit a puddle sending a tidal wave of gutter water crashing down upon me. I didn't even think that actually could happen. It's so cinematic, so cliche. But I was wrong, it does and did happen, to me. It couldn't have gotten much worse than that I think. At least the plastic bag covering my sandwich did its job, keeping my food dry so that a soggy human didn't have to eat a soggy meal. Thank God for plastic.
1. Low-lights one and five have a few things in common. One is massive amounts of idiotic people and two is Barak Obama. HALLOWEEN IN NEW YORK IS SOOOO LAME. Josh, Claire, the Laurens and I went to catch a bit of the parade which seemed like a bad idea to begin with. Countless people participating in near nude debauchery just isn't my bag. However, Josh and I were lured by the prospects of millions of pieces of free candy. We envisioned people on floats with air cannons launching candy by the fistful into the crowd not unlike cheerleaders launching t-shirts into the crowd at some sporting event. WARNING: The Halloween Parade in NYC is a completely candy free. I Oh, there's plenty of disease, but absolutely no candy. REPEAT, NO CANDY! With Josh and my sugary dreams dashed upon the rocks we decided to return home, quite depressed. Then a certain sound began to ring in my ear, steel drums. This is one of my favorite instruments because its perpetual lively and happy sound, and so understandably I put my faith in these percussionists to cheer me up. A crowd began to gather and followed the marching musicians when out of nowhere they all started chanting "Obama! Obama! Obama!" to the steel drums in unison. Again it wasn't the fact that they were shouting Obama's name but that they were shouting about politics at all. If there's one thing that I can think of that Halloween isn't about it's politics. What it is about is candy. IT'S ALL ABOUT CANDY DAMMIT! And I got none. What I did get was a mobile Caribbean themed Obama rally.
So there you have it. The "Top 5's" of the good and the bad. Honestly this will probably be the last post made while I'm here. My parents arrive the day after tomorrow (which is AWESOME!) and then I leave in a week. Fear not though comrades, this blog doesn't exist in a vacuum, it spans all locations and times, hence it shant be laid to rest just yet.
Until next time kids and kitties (via California)...
Thursday, October 2, 2008
On Sitting Next to My Favorite Random T.V. Personality on the Subway...
In light of the length of the last post I'll be brief. Today on the 2 3 train I sat next to Pierre Bernard of the "Pierre Bernard's Recliner of Rage" segment on Late Night with Conan O'brien. He looked pissed so I didn't say anything. He was reading a novel, Stargate Atlantis: Casualties of War. Greatest day of my life, greatest goddam day of my life.
"This is my city!"
The above quote is what I've started yelling in the midst of large crowds instead of "We're the cool kids!" Weirdly enough it gets about the same response as my previous catch phrase from those around me (both friends and strangers). All of you back home will be pleased to know that this saying will only be used by me while I reside here in NYC. Upon returning my previous slogan will be reinstated. I can't wait! Can you?
Until next time jongens en meisjes...
"This is my city!"
The above quote is what I've started yelling in the midst of large crowds instead of "We're the cool kids!" Weirdly enough it gets about the same response as my previous catch phrase from those around me (both friends and strangers). All of you back home will be pleased to know that this saying will only be used by me while I reside here in NYC. Upon returning my previous slogan will be reinstated. I can't wait! Can you?
Until next time jongens en meisjes...
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
On the Unintelligible Speech of Others (Tips For Understanding) and the Unifying Power of Ultra-violent Epic War Films...
I've recently noticed that these blog postings have been taking on a certain repeating style and subject matter. Basically, I take a seemingly mundane and somewhat humorous anecdote from my adventures in this Big Apple and then more or less put to print my general thoughts about said subject, elaborating on the topic in some way. This update will be no different. As they say (who they is I'm not positive... "I" is they in this case I guess)... So as they (I) say, "If it aint broke don't fix it!" Oh rest assured, I shant.
Anywhoodle...
This week I have been hit over the head repeatedly with the most challenging problem I've been faced with while living in New York, that is, understanding anything that comes out of the mouth of this city's inhabitants. Now, I'm not talking about "understanding" on a more metaphorical level. It's not as if everybody I speak with, which I must say is rare to begin with, says something so complex and intelligent that I can't grasp what they are getting at. No, it's really understanding at it's most base level, meaning I literally can't determine what words are coming out of the speaker's mouth. I don't know what it is or why it happens so frequently, but nine times out of ten I find myself completely dumbfounded by people's speech and end up asking myself, "What the hell did that guy (or girl) just say?" To make it more clear I'll draw on an example from Scripture. It's like you're standing in this crowd of people listening to the disciples preach after the Pentecost. Only, instead of hearing foreign languages you hear them speaking a strange hybrid mutation of your own. You inquisitively ask your buddy Josiah, "What the hell'd that guy Peter just say?" He replies, "Huh? Oh I don't know." Thus, instead of being able to hear what is being said and being amazed at the content, you become distracted and can only understand enough to know that it's in some weird way your native tongue being used and you therefore can only be amazed at how badly somebody could twist, garble, mangle and butcher it. That's exactly what I experience everyday. Thank God the Holy Spirit knew what it was doing, huh?
[For the real story see The Acts of the Apostles Chapter 2]
Perhaps it has something to do my frequent visits to fast food restaurants these days ( Wendy's in particular suffers greatest from this language plague for some reason). I know this because during a similar period of increased fast food consumption back home I encountered this peculiar situation with Chris, at a Wendy's no less. Luckily one of Chris' spiritual gifts, among many others, is interpretation of jumbled fast food tongues and he quickly replied, "That's alright, we don't need a cup-holder, thanks," when all I heard was, "Wancha cuptchtoholyer?"
Allow me to indulge you with a more recent example of this phenomena. A few days ago after a sterling and very free Calexico show, again at Wendy's, Josh and I stood in line waiting to order a few deliciously square patty'd treats when the fellow behind the counter, let's call him Jamal, stepped forward to help us. Here is what took place:
Jamal- "Can I hellswon?"
Josh and I- ::Puzzled::
Jamal- ::Looking at us:: "Can I hellswon?"
Josh and I- ::Wonder if he's talking to us::
Jamal- ::Drawing out his words to be understood more clearly:: "Caaaaan IIIII Heellllssswwon?"
Josh and I- ::Looking at each other with bewilderment::
Josh- "Is he talking to us?"
I (Me)- "I think so, but I don't know what he is saying."
Jamal- ::Becoming angry:: "Mah I hellswon?"
I (Me)- "Okay he must be talking to us."
Jamal- ::Points at us then the register while saying:: "MAHHH IIII HELLLSWWWON!!!!"
Josh and I- ::Realizing he is trying to say "Can I help someone?" and "May I help someone?" we step up to the reg."
Josh and I had a real good laugh then ordered and proceeded to watch this exact scenario played out no joke 15 times, leading to greater and more uproarious laughter. I was most amazed that Jamal never got more frustrated with people than he did with us. He must have had an an anger governor that kicked in at a certain point. Either that or it was a bit he devised to make himself laugh when he got home after a hard day's work at Ol' *Dave's Place (*Dave Thomas). If this is the case he got us, and at least the 15 customers after us, damn good.
Perhaps you've had a similar encounter and have been at a loss for what to do and how to better understand what is being said to you. If that is the case I offer you these simple steps...
1. Take a good survey of your surroundings and contextualize what might be being said. (If we made good notice of the fact that we were in line at a Wendy's it may have shed some light on the situation.)
2. Be patient.
3. Don't be too quick to jump to a conclusion. It would be foolish, not to mention embarrassing, to arrive at a wrong conclusion in your frantic search to make sense of the speaker. (Example: "Wancha cuptchtoholyer?" "Uhhhh... Sure, I want to cup your boulders!" Talk about foot in the mouth. Not only will you not get a possibly much needed "cup-holder" but you basically just implied that the drive through employee was soliciting you for sex. Uh oh!
4. Lastly, give the person a break. It would be easy to become frustrated or even angered by such a situation but after serving people all damn day don't they deserve to be cut some slack. I thought so.
Follow these basic principles and you'll be well on your way to interpreting all sorts of confusing phrases. Let's try it out together.
Setting: China Town
Plot: A man follows you around holding a piece of paper and pulling your shirt saying "Haaaaahbag, haaaaahbag, haaaaahbag..."
Let's be patient, give the guy a break, not jump to conclusions, and realize that we are in fact in China Town.
Aha! He is obviously saying "Handbag, handbag, handbag."
"No sir, I would not like a handbag!!!"
We did it!!! Congratulations us!
Other practical applications include: Street vendors, cab drivers, urban kids who overuse 80's lingo including but not limited to the word "mad" (similar to the Disco deal but with words [See "On the Death of Disco..."]), babies, people on the subway, people who work at Subway, and people who are on your elevator who sound exactly like Mickey from Snatch (actually I'm not sure anything could help anybody understand this guy.
That's that. I hope in some way that helped.
In other news, my roommate and I have returned to speaking to each other after a viewing of Gladiator. Nothing says male camaraderie like watching overly brutal scenes of dismemberment. Our dialogue it did exist, albeit briefly, while discussing many a pressing topic brought up by watching Ridley Scott's take on the fall of the Pax Romana. I know this is a small victory but it's a step in the right direction. If things go according to plan we'll have our first real "bit" by December. Fingers crossed!
That's all she wrote (or he). Sorry in advance for the length of this post. Although by the time you read this far the aforementioned apology will no longer be in advance. Oh well, can't say I didn't try.
Until next time ragazzi e ragazze...
Anywhoodle...
This week I have been hit over the head repeatedly with the most challenging problem I've been faced with while living in New York, that is, understanding anything that comes out of the mouth of this city's inhabitants. Now, I'm not talking about "understanding" on a more metaphorical level. It's not as if everybody I speak with, which I must say is rare to begin with, says something so complex and intelligent that I can't grasp what they are getting at. No, it's really understanding at it's most base level, meaning I literally can't determine what words are coming out of the speaker's mouth. I don't know what it is or why it happens so frequently, but nine times out of ten I find myself completely dumbfounded by people's speech and end up asking myself, "What the hell did that guy (or girl) just say?" To make it more clear I'll draw on an example from Scripture. It's like you're standing in this crowd of people listening to the disciples preach after the Pentecost. Only, instead of hearing foreign languages you hear them speaking a strange hybrid mutation of your own. You inquisitively ask your buddy Josiah, "What the hell'd that guy Peter just say?" He replies, "Huh? Oh I don't know." Thus, instead of being able to hear what is being said and being amazed at the content, you become distracted and can only understand enough to know that it's in some weird way your native tongue being used and you therefore can only be amazed at how badly somebody could twist, garble, mangle and butcher it. That's exactly what I experience everyday. Thank God the Holy Spirit knew what it was doing, huh?
[For the real story see The Acts of the Apostles Chapter 2]
Perhaps it has something to do my frequent visits to fast food restaurants these days ( Wendy's in particular suffers greatest from this language plague for some reason). I know this because during a similar period of increased fast food consumption back home I encountered this peculiar situation with Chris, at a Wendy's no less. Luckily one of Chris' spiritual gifts, among many others, is interpretation of jumbled fast food tongues and he quickly replied, "That's alright, we don't need a cup-holder, thanks," when all I heard was, "Wancha cuptchtoholyer?"
Allow me to indulge you with a more recent example of this phenomena. A few days ago after a sterling and very free Calexico show, again at Wendy's, Josh and I stood in line waiting to order a few deliciously square patty'd treats when the fellow behind the counter, let's call him Jamal, stepped forward to help us. Here is what took place:
Jamal- "Can I hellswon?"
Josh and I- ::Puzzled::
Jamal- ::Looking at us:: "Can I hellswon?"
Josh and I- ::Wonder if he's talking to us::
Jamal- ::Drawing out his words to be understood more clearly:: "Caaaaan IIIII Heellllssswwon?"
Josh and I- ::Looking at each other with bewilderment::
Josh- "Is he talking to us?"
I (Me)- "I think so, but I don't know what he is saying."
Jamal- ::Becoming angry:: "Mah I hellswon?"
I (Me)- "Okay he must be talking to us."
Jamal- ::Points at us then the register while saying:: "MAHHH IIII HELLLSWWWON!!!!"
Josh and I- ::Realizing he is trying to say "Can I help someone?" and "May I help someone?" we step up to the reg."
Josh and I had a real good laugh then ordered and proceeded to watch this exact scenario played out no joke 15 times, leading to greater and more uproarious laughter. I was most amazed that Jamal never got more frustrated with people than he did with us. He must have had an an anger governor that kicked in at a certain point. Either that or it was a bit he devised to make himself laugh when he got home after a hard day's work at Ol' *Dave's Place (*Dave Thomas). If this is the case he got us, and at least the 15 customers after us, damn good.
Perhaps you've had a similar encounter and have been at a loss for what to do and how to better understand what is being said to you. If that is the case I offer you these simple steps...
1. Take a good survey of your surroundings and contextualize what might be being said. (If we made good notice of the fact that we were in line at a Wendy's it may have shed some light on the situation.)
2. Be patient.
3. Don't be too quick to jump to a conclusion. It would be foolish, not to mention embarrassing, to arrive at a wrong conclusion in your frantic search to make sense of the speaker. (Example: "Wancha cuptchtoholyer?" "Uhhhh... Sure, I want to cup your boulders!" Talk about foot in the mouth. Not only will you not get a possibly much needed "cup-holder" but you basically just implied that the drive through employee was soliciting you for sex. Uh oh!
4. Lastly, give the person a break. It would be easy to become frustrated or even angered by such a situation but after serving people all damn day don't they deserve to be cut some slack. I thought so.
Follow these basic principles and you'll be well on your way to interpreting all sorts of confusing phrases. Let's try it out together.
Setting: China Town
Plot: A man follows you around holding a piece of paper and pulling your shirt saying "Haaaaahbag, haaaaahbag, haaaaahbag..."
Let's be patient, give the guy a break, not jump to conclusions, and realize that we are in fact in China Town.
Aha! He is obviously saying "Handbag, handbag, handbag."
"No sir, I would not like a handbag!!!"
We did it!!! Congratulations us!
Other practical applications include: Street vendors, cab drivers, urban kids who overuse 80's lingo including but not limited to the word "mad" (similar to the Disco deal but with words [See "On the Death of Disco..."]), babies, people on the subway, people who work at Subway, and people who are on your elevator who sound exactly like Mickey from Snatch (actually I'm not sure anything could help anybody understand this guy.
That's that. I hope in some way that helped.
In other news, my roommate and I have returned to speaking to each other after a viewing of Gladiator. Nothing says male camaraderie like watching overly brutal scenes of dismemberment. Our dialogue it did exist, albeit briefly, while discussing many a pressing topic brought up by watching Ridley Scott's take on the fall of the Pax Romana. I know this is a small victory but it's a step in the right direction. If things go according to plan we'll have our first real "bit" by December. Fingers crossed!
That's all she wrote (or he). Sorry in advance for the length of this post. Although by the time you read this far the aforementioned apology will no longer be in advance. Oh well, can't say I didn't try.
Until next time ragazzi e ragazze...
Thursday, September 25, 2008
On the Death of Disco and its Ressurection in a Postmodern Urban Context...
Let me start out this post by apologizing for my lack of activity on here as of late, I wasn't aware that so many people (3, maybe 4) look to my blog for much needed entertainment (or something to cure boredom when nothing else exists). I'm sorry and I promise to try and update this more often. One problem which led to my blogatorial disturbance may be that my roommate happened upon my previous post and noticed the all too flattering photo of him on the screen. You can imagine how awkward it was to explain how I got a picture of him in the first place (google.com) why on Earth I google'd him (to find a picture), why I wanted his picture (to show that he wasn't a demon), and why I thought he was a demon at all. He was full of questions so I pointed him to the screen and motioned for him to read, which he did, and all was made clear. We haven't spoken since.
So now that talking to my roommate won't be something to take up my time I can really focus on updating this blog more regularly... but now... on to bigger and better things...
Disco, the popular dance style and accompanying music of the 70's, was said to have died and gone the way of the dodo on July 12, 1979, with the Disco Demolition Night and the rise of hard rock (what I listen to), never to be heard from again.
Not true! It's a lie!
Unfortunately, disco is back from the grave and the monster is growing bigger than ever before. Now I'm not talking about the dance-punk genre that has become so popular with the youngsters these days, but full on disco is back. It's literally everywhere, sweeping the city by storm. Walk down any boulevard in NYC and you'll hear it, the faint pulse of bass calling you like the pied-piper to the slaughter of sound. Storefronts businesses, youthful loiterers in Union Square, residents of ritzy uptown lofts, the boom-boxes of the homeless, and live bands at block parties celebrating the birthday of Hershey the dog so big that the entire street was closed down to house a giant ice sculpture of the aforementioned Hershey who Josh Cave had a pep talk with warning against the dangers of getting too big a head (this is true and not a lie) all can't seem to get enough of it.
For you unbelievers out there, believe. If you haven't experienced it yet you will. Remember everything happens here in New York first and slowly trickles west. Start preparing now!
Perhaps another recent example from my life will truly solidify in your mind that that which I speak of is a terrible reality. So I was on the subway yesterday and a 55 to 60 year old business man sits directly next to me and pulls out an iPod touch, or iTouch for short. Amazed at the geezers knack for the newest technology, I was extremely interested to see what he was listening to. Sure enough, as I leaned over for a better look what did I see? Goddam "New Disco Classics vol. 4"! Imagine my surprise! Not only that Old Bones over here was listening to "New" Disco Classics, effectively destroying any possibility of him listening to disco jams while being nostalgic for his younger days, but because he was listening to "Volume Four", meaning volumes 1-3 weren't enough!
See?!?
Let me reiterate, start making battle plans now! The fight won't be so easily won this time. These bastards are really digging their heels in. Disco is adapting to its postmodern context of general plurality of all things by drawing from multiple genres of already existent and popular music to form a super conglomerate of total crap. (i.e. Mainstream Hip Hop, Techno, Trance, Happy Hardcore, etc.) We could really learn a thing or two from the gang members in the Bronx about fighting back. Example: The Bronx: 12:50am: In Josh's sequestered room on the top floor of rectory (of the Catholic Church he both lives at and restores) we heard a noise growing in the Projects across the street. We went out to figure out what was up and chanced upon the glorious uprising, a dance revolution, fire with fire and all that. It's called "Getting Light" and it's the urban poor's answer to the sequent and flash of the disco ball. These gangs or "crews" all give each other nicknames and once you get one your Christian name is never uttered again. It's kind of like being a 00 agent. These names are then called out by the crew followed by "Where you at? Where you at?" to get the guys really pumped.
Example:
"Kid 50 where you at? Where you at?"
This gets "Kid 50" so fired up that he back-flips off a ledge, straight onto his knees (again, true story). Apparently knee drops are extremely bad-a and paramount in this new style. These training sessions are just that, training, for the bigger battles, or "Getting Light Battles" where two rival gangs dance to the death, or until the other gang goes crying back to mommies.
Needless to say, this was very inspiring. Not only are these kids replacing drive-bys with light-bys, but they could be potentially carving out a better life for themselves. We've all seen America's Next Best Dance Crew here, and perhaps this dancing is another way, like athletics, for kids to escape and break free of the cultural traps they've been placed in by decades of certain cycles and patterns. Not to mention the community building that takes place at these battles. Together they are building momentum, and are getting ready to take down the evils of oppression and Disco.
This is the first time I've ever supported gang activity...
Way to go gangs!
Until next time jungen und mädchen...
So now that talking to my roommate won't be something to take up my time I can really focus on updating this blog more regularly... but now... on to bigger and better things...
Disco, the popular dance style and accompanying music of the 70's, was said to have died and gone the way of the dodo on July 12, 1979, with the Disco Demolition Night and the rise of hard rock (what I listen to), never to be heard from again.
Not true! It's a lie!
Unfortunately, disco is back from the grave and the monster is growing bigger than ever before. Now I'm not talking about the dance-punk genre that has become so popular with the youngsters these days, but full on disco is back. It's literally everywhere, sweeping the city by storm. Walk down any boulevard in NYC and you'll hear it, the faint pulse of bass calling you like the pied-piper to the slaughter of sound. Storefronts businesses, youthful loiterers in Union Square, residents of ritzy uptown lofts, the boom-boxes of the homeless, and live bands at block parties celebrating the birthday of Hershey the dog so big that the entire street was closed down to house a giant ice sculpture of the aforementioned Hershey who Josh Cave had a pep talk with warning against the dangers of getting too big a head (this is true and not a lie) all can't seem to get enough of it.
For you unbelievers out there, believe. If you haven't experienced it yet you will. Remember everything happens here in New York first and slowly trickles west. Start preparing now!
Perhaps another recent example from my life will truly solidify in your mind that that which I speak of is a terrible reality. So I was on the subway yesterday and a 55 to 60 year old business man sits directly next to me and pulls out an iPod touch, or iTouch for short. Amazed at the geezers knack for the newest technology, I was extremely interested to see what he was listening to. Sure enough, as I leaned over for a better look what did I see? Goddam "New Disco Classics vol. 4"! Imagine my surprise! Not only that Old Bones over here was listening to "New" Disco Classics, effectively destroying any possibility of him listening to disco jams while being nostalgic for his younger days, but because he was listening to "Volume Four", meaning volumes 1-3 weren't enough!
See?!?
Let me reiterate, start making battle plans now! The fight won't be so easily won this time. These bastards are really digging their heels in. Disco is adapting to its postmodern context of general plurality of all things by drawing from multiple genres of already existent and popular music to form a super conglomerate of total crap. (i.e. Mainstream Hip Hop, Techno, Trance, Happy Hardcore, etc.) We could really learn a thing or two from the gang members in the Bronx about fighting back. Example: The Bronx: 12:50am: In Josh's sequestered room on the top floor of rectory (of the Catholic Church he both lives at and restores) we heard a noise growing in the Projects across the street. We went out to figure out what was up and chanced upon the glorious uprising, a dance revolution, fire with fire and all that. It's called "Getting Light" and it's the urban poor's answer to the sequent and flash of the disco ball. These gangs or "crews" all give each other nicknames and once you get one your Christian name is never uttered again. It's kind of like being a 00 agent. These names are then called out by the crew followed by "Where you at? Where you at?" to get the guys really pumped.
Example:
"Kid 50 where you at? Where you at?"
This gets "Kid 50" so fired up that he back-flips off a ledge, straight onto his knees (again, true story). Apparently knee drops are extremely bad-a and paramount in this new style. These training sessions are just that, training, for the bigger battles, or "Getting Light Battles" where two rival gangs dance to the death, or until the other gang goes crying back to mommies.
Needless to say, this was very inspiring. Not only are these kids replacing drive-bys with light-bys, but they could be potentially carving out a better life for themselves. We've all seen America's Next Best Dance Crew here, and perhaps this dancing is another way, like athletics, for kids to escape and break free of the cultural traps they've been placed in by decades of certain cycles and patterns. Not to mention the community building that takes place at these battles. Together they are building momentum, and are getting ready to take down the evils of oppression and Disco.
This is the first time I've ever supported gang activity...
Way to go gangs!
Until next time jungen und mädchen...
Sunday, September 14, 2008
On Living With a Complete Stranger or Sleep Depravation and the Strength of the Human Mind...
This post comes to you live through a haze of extreme fatigue as a result of my complete lack of sleep last night. Why you may ask did I fail to get my solid eight hours? Well, let me just fill you in on my evening...
So last night the boys and I (and when I say boys I mean Caitlyn and her boyfriend David) had a rather pleasant evening of G-D Tiger Beer and The Big Lebowski. (Praise Allah! That's right the G-D liquor store across G-D the street carries my favorite G-D beer!) With that said here's the play by play:
(10:30 p.m.) After knocking a few back (precisely two) and finishing the film I decided to head back to my room early to call it a night.
(10:41 p.m.) Face washed, teeth brushed, and dawning some nice shorts (to beat the heat) I settle into bed to watch Oh, Brother Where Art Thou? and fall asleep. (Not only was my top beer generously stocked across the street but my favorite film was on basic television! Thank you Vishnu god!)
(11:07 p.m.) Despite the allure of the flashing screen I fall into a deep slumber.
(1:30 a.m.) Out of the cavern of sleep I hear the faint call of a voice. I awake to the genius that is my ring tone. Smiling, I look to see that one Spenser David Canada is calling and I attempt to answer the phone. Not in time.
(1:32 a.m.) Having missed it, I call Spenser back and we have a nice albeit brief conversation about the details of our present lives and how he's moving to San Francisco in a week. This little chat took place in my bathroom as I didn't want to wake my sleeping roommate. After a few minutes we say our goodbyes, our take it easys, our hang in theres, our good lucks, and our I love you's and hang up our phones respectively.
(1:45 a.m.) Upon placing my Sidekick Cellular Device on the night stand I get back into bed. I start to think about Spenser and his move to his own Big City. Big Gay City's more like it. I think how like me he's packing his shit and heading out of town. (Pardon the romantic language) I realize that I'm scared for him. I've seen so many people lose good years of their lives to that hell. Obviously that's not the case with everybody and I have faith in Spenser, lots of it, and I'm not saying I don't. I guess it's just the fact that my move came after months of careful consideration and prayer. My move was about working hard at something and was spurred by an opportunity and a chance to do so in an amazing new place. Spenser's move though, is somewhat off the cuff. Just so sudden. Perhaps it's out of a lack of anything else to do. Who know's? I hope he loves it. I hope he has a lot of fun. I hope he makes it with himself intact. I just have the feeling that once he leaves I'll never see him again.
(1:52 a.m.) I have thoroughly thought my thoughts and begin to fade to the land of Nod (sleep).
(1:52:45 a.m.) An extremely terrifying sound jaunts me out of my almost sleep and leaves me petrified, heart racing while cold sweat begins to pool on my back.
From that point forward I didn't sleep one wink. Now this may seem like your standard issue can sleep because of strange sound, which would have been fine. Everybody gets scared sometimes and can't sleep, right? Wrong! Rest assured this was far worse (and funnier I might add) than that.
(Hang in there folks this is the last movement of this symphony of language)
So my initial and long-standing thought, I'll humbly admit, was that my roommate was a demon. Why my mind went there I'm not sure but it scared the shit out of me nonetheless. I literally almost crapped the bed. I tried to be rational and to use reason.
"He's just snoring. Yeah just a regular old run of the mill snore."
"That's not a snore! Thats a voice of Hell. I think he just told me to f-off."
Not to flattering I know. So convinced that a fallen angel lay in the bed next to me I had to decide what to do. My initial thought was to rebuke it, call on the name of the Lord out loud and all. But perhaps that would have been to rash, or perhaps not rash enough, I mean this is a goddam demon were talking about here. I'd pounce on it first, beat it up before it could get to me. Yeah a preemptive strike. Fight fire with fire you know? I seriously considered this for 5 minutes. Luckily I then came to my senses. There wasn't any demon, not that they don't exist just this wasn't one believe me. My roommate was either snoring or choking on something, but that was it. As I laid for countless hours, tossing and turning, I couldn't help but ponder the power of the human mind. It has the ability to change one's entire perception of reality based of a single stimuli, in this case sound. It truly defies all reason or logic and forms a perpetual perceptual spiral. I mean come on how could I possibly mistake this guy for a demon?
My roommate Ario Elami. Courtesy of google.
The real mind bender is how upon hearing a loud snore I didn't think first of Heavyweights.
Until next time garçons et filles...
So last night the boys and I (and when I say boys I mean Caitlyn and her boyfriend David) had a rather pleasant evening of G-D Tiger Beer and The Big Lebowski. (Praise Allah! That's right the G-D liquor store across G-D the street carries my favorite G-D beer!) With that said here's the play by play:
(10:30 p.m.) After knocking a few back (precisely two) and finishing the film I decided to head back to my room early to call it a night.
(10:41 p.m.) Face washed, teeth brushed, and dawning some nice shorts (to beat the heat) I settle into bed to watch Oh, Brother Where Art Thou? and fall asleep. (Not only was my top beer generously stocked across the street but my favorite film was on basic television! Thank you Vishnu god!)
(11:07 p.m.) Despite the allure of the flashing screen I fall into a deep slumber.
(1:30 a.m.) Out of the cavern of sleep I hear the faint call of a voice. I awake to the genius that is my ring tone. Smiling, I look to see that one Spenser David Canada is calling and I attempt to answer the phone. Not in time.
(1:32 a.m.) Having missed it, I call Spenser back and we have a nice albeit brief conversation about the details of our present lives and how he's moving to San Francisco in a week. This little chat took place in my bathroom as I didn't want to wake my sleeping roommate. After a few minutes we say our goodbyes, our take it easys, our hang in theres, our good lucks, and our I love you's and hang up our phones respectively.
(1:45 a.m.) Upon placing my Sidekick Cellular Device on the night stand I get back into bed. I start to think about Spenser and his move to his own Big City. Big Gay City's more like it. I think how like me he's packing his shit and heading out of town. (Pardon the romantic language) I realize that I'm scared for him. I've seen so many people lose good years of their lives to that hell. Obviously that's not the case with everybody and I have faith in Spenser, lots of it, and I'm not saying I don't. I guess it's just the fact that my move came after months of careful consideration and prayer. My move was about working hard at something and was spurred by an opportunity and a chance to do so in an amazing new place. Spenser's move though, is somewhat off the cuff. Just so sudden. Perhaps it's out of a lack of anything else to do. Who know's? I hope he loves it. I hope he has a lot of fun. I hope he makes it with himself intact. I just have the feeling that once he leaves I'll never see him again.
(1:52 a.m.) I have thoroughly thought my thoughts and begin to fade to the land of Nod (sleep).
(1:52:45 a.m.) An extremely terrifying sound jaunts me out of my almost sleep and leaves me petrified, heart racing while cold sweat begins to pool on my back.
From that point forward I didn't sleep one wink. Now this may seem like your standard issue can sleep because of strange sound, which would have been fine. Everybody gets scared sometimes and can't sleep, right? Wrong! Rest assured this was far worse (and funnier I might add) than that.
(Hang in there folks this is the last movement of this symphony of language)
So my initial and long-standing thought, I'll humbly admit, was that my roommate was a demon. Why my mind went there I'm not sure but it scared the shit out of me nonetheless. I literally almost crapped the bed. I tried to be rational and to use reason.
"He's just snoring. Yeah just a regular old run of the mill snore."
"That's not a snore! Thats a voice of Hell. I think he just told me to f-off."
Not to flattering I know. So convinced that a fallen angel lay in the bed next to me I had to decide what to do. My initial thought was to rebuke it, call on the name of the Lord out loud and all. But perhaps that would have been to rash, or perhaps not rash enough, I mean this is a goddam demon were talking about here. I'd pounce on it first, beat it up before it could get to me. Yeah a preemptive strike. Fight fire with fire you know? I seriously considered this for 5 minutes. Luckily I then came to my senses. There wasn't any demon, not that they don't exist just this wasn't one believe me. My roommate was either snoring or choking on something, but that was it. As I laid for countless hours, tossing and turning, I couldn't help but ponder the power of the human mind. It has the ability to change one's entire perception of reality based of a single stimuli, in this case sound. It truly defies all reason or logic and forms a perpetual perceptual spiral. I mean come on how could I possibly mistake this guy for a demon?
My roommate Ario Elami. Courtesy of google.
The real mind bender is how upon hearing a loud snore I didn't think first of Heavyweights.
Until next time garçons et filles...
Thursday, September 11, 2008
On Re-reading The Catcher in the Rye and My Apparent Similarities to Holden Cauffield...
As you could most likely infer from the title of this here post I have recently completed my re-read of The Catcher in the Rye. I decided that upon arriving in New York City I would revisit this well loved book because it also takes place in this metropolis I am now calling home. Now, despite what you may think as a result of my previous post I'm not one to jump on bandwagons that easily. In fact, I pride myself in the opposite. As a result, I was reluctant to read the above mentioned novel, T.C.I.T.R. let's call it, in the first place. I picked it up at a local Border's last summer and casually made my way through it. Now don't get me wrong, I thought the book was great back then, real funny and all, but I guess in my heart I really couldn't see what all the hype was about. I just catalogued it in my head as a humorous and engaging book. I did not have the same experience with this read. Basically, I finished the book in two days after a nonstop, no holds barred, read for all.
A. Sidenote! As a result of this literal nonstop reading frenzy I have realized that I have truly become a New Yorker.
Why you may ask has this event illuminated such a transformation? Well because I am now able to simultaneously:
listen to music, travel on the subway, determine route, make appropriate subway switches, avoid pickpockets and would be muggers, turn down solicitations for both useless items and cocaine, and order and eat McDonald's, without lifting my eyes from the page or interacting with a single person!
a. Actually, that may be somewhat of a hyperbole, because I have to talk to the McD's employee when I order, but rest assured I don't look at him or her.
The reason this read struck such a chord with me was because I saw a reflection of myself in Holden Cauffield, the main character. See, like Holden I have grown cynical of most of the world that surrounds me. I tend to formulate judgments which lead to my eventual hatred of most things and people. I frequently say inappropriate things at inopportune moments for the sake of a good laugh. I just about chain smoke every chance I get. And last but not least, I ultimately want to help and save people but am unable to because I close myself of to the world in my cynicism. At this realization I began to sink into a certain kind of melancholy.
Am I a total asshole?
Or if not an asshole then a prick?
And if not a prick then maybe a jerk?
Who knows?
Actually I do! I know that for the most part I am a good and kind person. Sure I have my moments of being annoyed with "phonys" in this world but who doesn't. Unlike Holden I am not always in that super depressed "I hate the world and everyone in it" mood. I guess in actuality I could be seen as a foil of Holden. Where he is bitter and unpleasant a majority of the time with sporadic glimpses of happiness, I tend to be joyous with moments of bitterness, and hey I'm okay with that. Yet, this muddy reflection still allows me to see the parts of my personality that are crappy for others to experience and I want to try and do away with them. I want to be a better human.
So, in summation, my re-read had a similar effect on me as my viewing of MTV's The Real World. It is entertaining at first because the people are such terrible excuses for human beings. You're lucky if at least one somewhat witty and humorous cat lives in the house, but if there is they usually knows it so they gets real cocky. (That's my New Yorker accent coming out when I'ms heated up. See I have integrated!) You'd think that would turn me off to the show, right? However the reason that I become fixated and drawn into it (The Real World) is because it affirms me as a human by allowing me to see how much better of a person I am than those who I am viewing. Just kidding, that was a joke, kinda. But really it highlights the bad qualities I see in myself, catalyzing self improvement. And as a result I have more compassion for the world around me. So that my friends... that is why I love both T.C.I.T.R. and MTV's The Real World... Because they make me want to be a better person. Them and Jesus...
Until next time amigos and senioritas...
A. Sidenote! As a result of this literal nonstop reading frenzy I have realized that I have truly become a New Yorker.
Why you may ask has this event illuminated such a transformation? Well because I am now able to simultaneously:
listen to music, travel on the subway, determine route, make appropriate subway switches, avoid pickpockets and would be muggers, turn down solicitations for both useless items and cocaine, and order and eat McDonald's, without lifting my eyes from the page or interacting with a single person!
a. Actually, that may be somewhat of a hyperbole, because I have to talk to the McD's employee when I order, but rest assured I don't look at him or her.
The reason this read struck such a chord with me was because I saw a reflection of myself in Holden Cauffield, the main character. See, like Holden I have grown cynical of most of the world that surrounds me. I tend to formulate judgments which lead to my eventual hatred of most things and people. I frequently say inappropriate things at inopportune moments for the sake of a good laugh. I just about chain smoke every chance I get. And last but not least, I ultimately want to help and save people but am unable to because I close myself of to the world in my cynicism. At this realization I began to sink into a certain kind of melancholy.
Am I a total asshole?
Or if not an asshole then a prick?
And if not a prick then maybe a jerk?
Who knows?
Actually I do! I know that for the most part I am a good and kind person. Sure I have my moments of being annoyed with "phonys" in this world but who doesn't. Unlike Holden I am not always in that super depressed "I hate the world and everyone in it" mood. I guess in actuality I could be seen as a foil of Holden. Where he is bitter and unpleasant a majority of the time with sporadic glimpses of happiness, I tend to be joyous with moments of bitterness, and hey I'm okay with that. Yet, this muddy reflection still allows me to see the parts of my personality that are crappy for others to experience and I want to try and do away with them. I want to be a better human.
So, in summation, my re-read had a similar effect on me as my viewing of MTV's The Real World. It is entertaining at first because the people are such terrible excuses for human beings. You're lucky if at least one somewhat witty and humorous cat lives in the house, but if there is they usually knows it so they gets real cocky. (That's my New Yorker accent coming out when I'ms heated up. See I have integrated!) You'd think that would turn me off to the show, right? However the reason that I become fixated and drawn into it (The Real World) is because it affirms me as a human by allowing me to see how much better of a person I am than those who I am viewing. Just kidding, that was a joke, kinda. But really it highlights the bad qualities I see in myself, catalyzing self improvement. And as a result I have more compassion for the world around me. So that my friends... that is why I love both T.C.I.T.R. and MTV's The Real World... Because they make me want to be a better person. Them and Jesus...
Until next time amigos and senioritas...
Saturday, August 30, 2008
On Arriving in NYC and Becoming Its Latest Devoured...
It seems as if every single person that moves to the city (and by city I mean "City" as in NYC) becomes completely absorbed into it. They become a part of it. They are swallowed whole by it. I myself, in contrast to my initial thoughts, am no different. I don't know how it happened. I mean, the city's inhabitants for the most part smell like B.O. and Piss eloped to the moist heat of the Human Crap Jungle and hand a kid there. Not to mention the fact that 12 million of these fecaloids live in this city, needless to say it smells a bit. Sure it's crowded, sure it's fast, sure it's confusing to get around and not end up in a crack-den, but somehow that's okay.
One big factor is that the city really never sleeps. The fact that at any point I could hop on a Sub (No not a naval submersible I mean the Subway. And no not that sandwich shop that leads overweighties to becoming overweighties who eat footlongs 21 times a week, I mean the underground railroad. No not that pipeline that led slaves from the South to the North. Actually come to think of it, the Metro is sort of a mechanized version of the perviously mentioned railroad, minus the slaves and use of quilts. Yeah that one...) and cruise to a place that is actually open is a real joy in and of itself. Basically, it's still early, actually it's only been two days and I'm already jumping on the band wagon. Also, I know the inherent problems with such proceedings but ...what the hell? I'll be that guy I guess. It's like Jonah being swallowed by the Whale and inside finding everything he wanted out of life. I just hope that when this Whale spits me out I'll be willing to leave.
Until next time boys and girls...
One big factor is that the city really never sleeps. The fact that at any point I could hop on a Sub (No not a naval submersible I mean the Subway. And no not that sandwich shop that leads overweighties to becoming overweighties who eat footlongs 21 times a week, I mean the underground railroad. No not that pipeline that led slaves from the South to the North. Actually come to think of it, the Metro is sort of a mechanized version of the perviously mentioned railroad, minus the slaves and use of quilts. Yeah that one...) and cruise to a place that is actually open is a real joy in and of itself. Basically, it's still early, actually it's only been two days and I'm already jumping on the band wagon. Also, I know the inherent problems with such proceedings but ...what the hell? I'll be that guy I guess. It's like Jonah being swallowed by the Whale and inside finding everything he wanted out of life. I just hope that when this Whale spits me out I'll be willing to leave.
Until next time boys and girls...
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
On the Sun's Choice to Be a Real Jerk...
So today it's pretty hot. Now don't get confused, it's not just the kind of heat that you would just remark to your friend in passing...
"Hey man it's pretty damn hot today huh?"
"Yeah... uhm I guess?"
No no, it's the kind of heat that makes you realize how bad smoking really is for your health. It's easy to forget the cancer causing tar and nicotine packed in every joyous drag of a cigarette while enjoying the cool night air on an evening stroll. Forget emphysema and premature birth, it's brisk and raining! Light up! Yet, add a few million degrees and a hot wind to the mix and bet your ass you'll remember all those things your parents and those ill-conceived Truth adds warned you against. As a man who prides himself in his pack-a-day habit, the very thought of a cigarette makes me want to throw up blood.
In other words it's the kind of heat that makes you loathe the Sun's very existence. Sure it sustains life as we know it, but you know what? F that s. The Sun is a dick and quite frankly I'm sick of him (please excuse the non-gender inclusive language). He's like that annoying friend that's just always pushing your buttons for the sake of being annoying. And of course said friend thinks it's just about the funniest crap ever, completely unaware of what an asshole he's being. But then at times that friend, annoying as he sometimes is, can really be not so annoying. He may offer up a word of wisdom, a kind gesture, a real funny joke perhaps. I guess the possibilities of the good a friend can do are limitless. But not today! Today that friend is a dick, and that dick is the Sun.
Now that we've firmly established what a king jerk the center of our solar system is...
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