Friday, December 30, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
right now, i am avoiding playing the album i want a to listen to over the work speakers because it is a hip hop album that heavily employs the word 'nigger' and there are two black women sitting upstairs. now, my enjoyment of hip hop is separated by multiple disconnects, but i think i have an honest appreciation for a genre of music i have little business being involved in. this discussion could go on for days, exploring the justifications and exoticisations i use in my enjoyment of the music. what i really want to know is, is where does not turning on a hip hop album that has racial slurs in it because youre a white kid and black folks around you know that you picked the music fall on the racial political matrix?
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
it seems that conscious observation of a world surrounding is just as important as the knowledge that one's brain and body parts and the brains and body parts of the people they love are conceived in doom when one is trying to write.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Xmas dulls the senses to a common denominator lower than the boughs of an underground hell tree. That is, a tree that grows upside down, underground into hell.
This Christmas, I'm apathetic and think everyone's an idiot for investing so much in a day during a season that's nothing but stress and unpleasantness. I guess that's probably just for me though, and I should revert back to anarchistic anger, because at least the awful shit to hate is scientifically observable.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
Sunday, December 4, 2011
It's more than a stupid joke that goes, "Tall? How is that a small? If I wanted a small, I'd order a small, am I right?"
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
I gotta finish reading these short stories so I can read another book of short stories.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Coffee can turn an empty Monday night into a serious question of one's place in this American landscape.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
After the first round of whiskey, Dan said, "Those shots were fitting. Glad we aren't just sticking to beers."
After the second, I put a dollar into the jukebox. It was an analog jukebox that played 3 songs for a dollar. A song by Bruce Springsteen played. I don't remember the other two. No one danced. No one had danced since we walked in.
The third round came and some of us smiled. Some of us smiled as we toasted. "To not blowing up in a car crash," someone said, I think.
Dan threw up on the bar after the fourth round of whiskey. Some ended up on his clothes. On his way to the bathroom, he tripped over his own feet and fell into the door before he could clean himself up. We all laughed and looked down in our wallets for jukebox money.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
The past few years have left me fairly confused on how to combat something like this. I've been pretty deprecating about my own life and about this heterogeneous subculture I somehow fell into when punk rock became more appealing than Kid Rock. I do things with ironic intentions. Listen to Lil' Wayne. Watch the movie Air Force One. Revisit old professional wrestling matches. Somehow, these things, mixed with the drive to consistently be above caring, become important to me. I think the Carter II is one of the best hip hop albums ever made. Air Force One is an immaculately perfected American movie (Harrison Ford has to choose what wires to cut to hotwire a fuel dump and chooses the green and yellow wires because the other three are red, white, and blue. I mean, Jesus Christ, that's too fucking perfect for what they were doing. But what that movie is doing could be written about for years). I also follow wrestling again with a serious critical passion. I argue over plot devices and postmodern narrative techniques, capitalist consumerism's role in the televised product, and character development among pseudo-realistic, 4th-wall-breaking, REAL human beings constantly acting for years on end.
These are things I've come to deeply care about. The fate of CM Punk's career with the WWE and Weezy's promethazine addiction are important to me. They are rooted in a flippant holier-than-thou attitude I've taken toward things (and still maintain), but they've grown to become something much more. And then I thought that I needed a good closing line and an inner-dialogue began that said, "Why? So you can tie this high-brow essay up nicely? Good one Hemingway, you're a real writer now."
Monday, October 24, 2011
He's got so much momentum.
Programs filmed in front of alive audience in Mexico but broadcast to American television have an interesting added layer of pandering to the crowd. The contexualized instances of the annunciation of national identity are completely different and skewed. UltraAmericanized formalities turn into a double farce or something.
Cody Rhodes is such a good heel. Incredible. Orton needs to fight for the IC belt at Survivor Series.
Sheamus' music is the fucking worst.
The amount of legacy wrestlers out there today is astonishing. Multiple top billers, mid-carders, and low-rung schmucks that are sons and daughters of former superstars are consistently broadcast, and I wonder if this is just a new phenomenon to me because I haven't watched for a few years, or if it's something that's plowed through the WWE recently. I hope lil DiBiase has a job for a while.
Watching Smackdown by yourself late at night really fucks with your brain.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
If I ever buy a gun, it'll be a really big revolver.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Monday, August 8, 2011
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Besides all of these distractions, how does one shop for laundry detergent? It's something I do on a semi-annual basis, which definitely doesn't leave enough of an impression as to what I should be looking for in a detergent. Super color resistance and bleach stain remover beads and lavender mountain breeze scents. I just don't want to smell like a smelly kid in this heat.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
It helps to see things be put in a modern context. There's nothing wrong with Facebook or eBay being written into texts (at least according to the current cultural climate. Obviously that shit is going to be dated as hell within 8 years), and it's refreshing to have these things represented as they are. I suppose a lot of writing is being done on the internet anyway, so there's no point in purposefully ignoring it's impact on one's daily habits. Check your blog, tweet some bulljive, update banalities of living. It's ok. We do these things. No need to spraypaint a sloppy shit. Let it cover the bowl in style. Document it flowing over the seat. Take a Polaroid and paste it above the toilet handle. Bring a mason jar into the bathroom and bottle the smell so you can bust it out at a party like a sick card trick.
Really I just want to read things that are not only thematically and metaphorically relevant to me, but also physically and currently. I want to dive into your shitty job and shitty car, and the night you got really shitty at a stupid bar and spent $27 on the jukebox, listening to 90's nu metal for a laugh, but no one else thought it was funny. For now, I just need a break from a cafe in France or a farmtown in the 1920's. I want big dumps turned to words.
Monday, July 11, 2011
I think i will start submitting things i've written to places that publish things other people have written.
But for now, i will head home to sit on my couch with the lights off.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
or maybe its just like you smoked way too much pot the night before, and your day is a kind of haze that you can't shake, so you just smoke some more pot. if that's what aging encompasses, it's doable.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
so chris hansen did it wrong. i wonder if the irony is lost on him as he begins apologizing to everyone in his life. i'm sure it isn't. he's probably swallowed some beers with a friend and laughed about it.
that's necessary sometimes.
i woke up from a nap that i hadn't intended on taking and saw this article. even though the concept of stars falling generally delights me, proving the morose truths of the media's pyramid scheme and the need to build others into something bigger than oneself, chris hansen getting his ill desserts leaves me with a bitter tongue. like too much ginger at once. yuck. clearly this was meant to happen, say, inevitable. And it bothers me that i don't love it as much as i love every other perfectly happenstancial celebrity downfall.
because watching pedophiles get busted is a fantastic thrill. they're dehumanizable, and clearly that's the draw of the dateline specials. but to juxtapose that with the fucked up police tactics employed really displays the lengths and depths of america's reliance on brute and arbitrary authority. the horrible balance is what makes the show a spectacle. it's what pulls me in. like the ride at the carnival where you spin against a wall and the floor drops out. its crazy fun, but you kind of feel sick. the sensations combined are something new and bizarre.
so maybe chris hansen's downfall was deserved. i'm not sure.
Monday, June 27, 2011
And really, all I can think about regarding what I write is that I know I cannot write poetry. So, a poem: