Thursday, February 28, 2002
Blog silence, at least until Sunday. It has nothing to do with bandwidth (despite my efforts, I think I spilled over the brim, unfortunately. Le sigh); I'll be in Connecticut with my father and sister visiting my grandmother, who is having a health scare that we're more than a little concerned about.
These things always come at the worst possible time, you know? I'm brimming with all kinds of confusing personal shit right now -- I'm extraordinarily happy about my writing and was looking forward to working on it; I have massive amounts of studying to do for my midterms next week (all of which I'm unprepared for); I had loads of work -- both technical and creative -- to pour into the site; and all of that's been curtailed by consigning Friday and Saturday over to this visit, and when I get back I have to go straight into academic nose-to-the-grindstone mode. I feel personally constrained in a way I haven't felt for some time, and it's greatly upsetting. And of course, I feel massively guilty about feeling constrained, because this is my fucking grandmother; I love her dearly and I haven't seen her in far too long. But that doesn't change the fact of time.
So I cannot write in detail about The Laramie Project, which I saw an advance screening of tonight; I cannot tell you about what I've been writing and the effect it's been having on me; I cannot tell you about the music I've listened to and the people I've seen and all the shit that's whirling around in my life. As much as I want to.
It's been a frustrating week, and it's only going to get worse. By 1:45 PM next Thursday it'll all be over, and I'll be on spring break. I'm going home to Florida with Erin, Claire, and Andy at my side, and we're going to have a fucking blast. But my life is going to be hell until that precise moment. Wish me luck.
11:56 PM | e-mail |
These things always come at the worst possible time, you know? I'm brimming with all kinds of confusing personal shit right now -- I'm extraordinarily happy about my writing and was looking forward to working on it; I have massive amounts of studying to do for my midterms next week (all of which I'm unprepared for); I had loads of work -- both technical and creative -- to pour into the site; and all of that's been curtailed by consigning Friday and Saturday over to this visit, and when I get back I have to go straight into academic nose-to-the-grindstone mode. I feel personally constrained in a way I haven't felt for some time, and it's greatly upsetting. And of course, I feel massively guilty about feeling constrained, because this is my fucking grandmother; I love her dearly and I haven't seen her in far too long. But that doesn't change the fact of time.
So I cannot write in detail about The Laramie Project, which I saw an advance screening of tonight; I cannot tell you about what I've been writing and the effect it's been having on me; I cannot tell you about the music I've listened to and the people I've seen and all the shit that's whirling around in my life. As much as I want to.
It's been a frustrating week, and it's only going to get worse. By 1:45 PM next Thursday it'll all be over, and I'll be on spring break. I'm going home to Florida with Erin, Claire, and Andy at my side, and we're going to have a fucking blast. But my life is going to be hell until that precise moment. Wish me luck.
11:56 PM | e-mail |
So how 'bout those Grammys, eh? Didn't those suck hard? U2's performance was strong, but the direction was miserable. They didn't show Adam Clayton ONCE, and half the thing was just a ridiculous closeup headshot of Bono... using them to open was also kind of lame, especially opening with "Walk On" -- had it been "Elevation" it would've been a different story.
At least they won some awards, though I cannot believe Train got Best Rock Song. I'd've preferred ANYTHING else in that category ("Elevation," "Walk On," "Yellow" by Coldplay -- would've actually cheered for that one -- or Jesus, even "Jaded" by Aerosmith which at least has a clever melody). And yes, O BROTHER WHERE ART THOU? is a good album, but eeehhhhhhhh. I'm not pleased.
I could bitch about this for hours, but it's not getting any of us anywhere, so I'll stop.
3:17 PM | e-mail |
At least they won some awards, though I cannot believe Train got Best Rock Song. I'd've preferred ANYTHING else in that category ("Elevation," "Walk On," "Yellow" by Coldplay -- would've actually cheered for that one -- or Jesus, even "Jaded" by Aerosmith which at least has a clever melody). And yes, O BROTHER WHERE ART THOU? is a good album, but eeehhhhhhhh. I'm not pleased.
I could bitch about this for hours, but it's not getting any of us anywhere, so I'll stop.
3:17 PM | e-mail |
Wednesday, February 27, 2002
Paul alerted me to the fact that there's another M&M's color voting contest going on. All the colors suck and teal will probably win. However, I'm just amused by the site's frontpage -- it's the map of those little chocolate bastards (Currently crushing Russia under their boot heel) dominating the globe. And note that there's no foothold in the Third World. You don't deserve chocolate, poor people! Ha!
You'll have to excuse me, I'm hallucinating mildly today.
4:05 PM | e-mail |
You'll have to excuse me, I'm hallucinating mildly today.
4:05 PM | e-mail |
Doves' new single, "There Goes The Fear," will be released for only one day. How curious. The article goes on to mention that their new album is entitled The Last Broadcast and will be released in the UK on April 29th. Hopefully it'll come out at the same time in America, because GOD DAMN I THINK I LOVE THIS BAND. I'll have Erin ask her boss at Astralwerks if they have a US date yet...
1:03 PM | e-mail |
1:03 PM | e-mail |
Tuesday, February 26, 2002
So Kurt Cobain's diaries are going to be published. A dubious moral move, at best. I'd've thought Courtney Love was smarter than this -- she's already groaning under the weight of dozens of charges of exploiting Kurt's estate, and this seems to be the most exploitative idea yet.
On the one hand it seems like a horrible invasion of privacy. I don't think he left behind a note saying "Please share my every inner thought with the world on the occasion of my death;" it seems like the most politic idea is to assume that he didn't want that. Of course, on the other hand, these diaries are something that could really touch his fans. And if we're really lucky, maybe they'll destroy the conception of him as an uber-artist/rock-god/messiah. Nirvana were a good band, people, but that's it. They were a punk band with the right timing. If his diary is filled with gems like "All is darkness. Could really use some ice cream," then they could definitely do the world a favor by publishing them and putting a stop to all of this lionizing bullshit.
Now here's a thought that popped into my head while folding my laundry after reading this story.
What happens to your weblog when you die?
Let's say I'm Bono 2: The Sequel thirty years from now, and the tour jet crashes in the Andes and I'm incinerated. Does some snoopy journalist hit up The Wayback Machine, find my weblog, and bang it into a book? Is it public domain for that sort of thing, now that I've put it out here? I mean, I don't care at all if people are reading this thirty years from now -- it's my life (or at least aspects of it; I'd be an idiot if I thought my whole life was recorded here, or even the better part of it, and you would be too), and I won't deny it -- but I do object to somebody else profiting from it who is not my heir. Heck, my heirs might suck; maybe I object to them profiting from it.
So what kind of rights do I have to this stuff? Where does declaration of copyright enter into it? I've always been upset by the idea of people rifling through my belongings and personal detritus when I die. There are, obviously, things you never want anyone to find. And while your weblog might not necessarily be a part of that, it still dovetails with the whole concept.
I don't think people are thinking about this when they blog. Maybe they shouldn't, but maybe they should.
11:39 PM | e-mail |
On the one hand it seems like a horrible invasion of privacy. I don't think he left behind a note saying "Please share my every inner thought with the world on the occasion of my death;" it seems like the most politic idea is to assume that he didn't want that. Of course, on the other hand, these diaries are something that could really touch his fans. And if we're really lucky, maybe they'll destroy the conception of him as an uber-artist/rock-god/messiah. Nirvana were a good band, people, but that's it. They were a punk band with the right timing. If his diary is filled with gems like "All is darkness. Could really use some ice cream," then they could definitely do the world a favor by publishing them and putting a stop to all of this lionizing bullshit.
Now here's a thought that popped into my head while folding my laundry after reading this story.
What happens to your weblog when you die?
Let's say I'm Bono 2: The Sequel thirty years from now, and the tour jet crashes in the Andes and I'm incinerated. Does some snoopy journalist hit up The Wayback Machine, find my weblog, and bang it into a book? Is it public domain for that sort of thing, now that I've put it out here? I mean, I don't care at all if people are reading this thirty years from now -- it's my life (or at least aspects of it; I'd be an idiot if I thought my whole life was recorded here, or even the better part of it, and you would be too), and I won't deny it -- but I do object to somebody else profiting from it who is not my heir. Heck, my heirs might suck; maybe I object to them profiting from it.
So what kind of rights do I have to this stuff? Where does declaration of copyright enter into it? I've always been upset by the idea of people rifling through my belongings and personal detritus when I die. There are, obviously, things you never want anyone to find. And while your weblog might not necessarily be a part of that, it still dovetails with the whole concept.
I don't think people are thinking about this when they blog. Maybe they shouldn't, but maybe they should.
11:39 PM | e-mail |
Tickspeak (10:15:36 PM): oh yeah, by the way, I hate you and I will ritualistically murder you if I ever see you again.
Tickspeak (10:15:40 PM): I downloaded The Locomotion.
logovisual (10:15:44 PM): HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
Tickspeak (10:15:45 PM): and God help me I enjoyed it. I ENJOYED IT.
logovisual (10:15:47 PM): YOU LOVE IIIIIIT
logovisual (10:15:53 PM): YOU WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH IT
Tickspeak (10:15:56 PM): FUCK
logovisual (10:15:57 PM): YOU WANT TO PUT YOUR PENIS IN IT
Tickspeak (10:15:58 PM): AAAAAAAAAGH
Tickspeak (10:16:01 PM): NOOOOOOO
Tickspeak (10:16:03 PM): YEEEEEEEEEEES
logovisual (10:16:07 PM): YOU WANT TO COME ON ITS SPUNKY SYNTHESIZED TITS
Tickspeak (10:16:30 PM): FUCK FUCK FUCK GOD DO I EVER
logovisual (10:16:42 PM): I win.
logovisual (10:17:01 PM): And I am SO blogging this conversation.
Tickspeak (10:17:08 PM): blast.
My apologies to my more sensitive readers.
10:16 PM | e-mail |
Tickspeak (10:15:40 PM): I downloaded The Locomotion.
logovisual (10:15:44 PM): HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
Tickspeak (10:15:45 PM): and God help me I enjoyed it. I ENJOYED IT.
logovisual (10:15:47 PM): YOU LOVE IIIIIIT
logovisual (10:15:53 PM): YOU WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH IT
Tickspeak (10:15:56 PM): FUCK
logovisual (10:15:57 PM): YOU WANT TO PUT YOUR PENIS IN IT
Tickspeak (10:15:58 PM): AAAAAAAAAGH
Tickspeak (10:16:01 PM): NOOOOOOO
Tickspeak (10:16:03 PM): YEEEEEEEEEEES
logovisual (10:16:07 PM): YOU WANT TO COME ON ITS SPUNKY SYNTHESIZED TITS
Tickspeak (10:16:30 PM): FUCK FUCK FUCK GOD DO I EVER
logovisual (10:16:42 PM): I win.
logovisual (10:17:01 PM): And I am SO blogging this conversation.
Tickspeak (10:17:08 PM): blast.
My apologies to my more sensitive readers.
10:16 PM | e-mail |
$13.99 poorer, one Australian pop pixie richer. Listening to the album now... it's no Light Years but then, how could it be.
I also picked up the TIME with Bono on the cover. How could I not, really? It's the equivalent of sticking a bicycle pump in his ear and going to town -- and can I say again, GOD DAMN IT I HATE THAT FUCKING JACKET -- but it's my favorite human being on the cover of TIME magazine, for God's sake. It's one for the scrapbook.
Don't ask me how I afforded these things.
9:33 PM | e-mail |
I also picked up the TIME with Bono on the cover. How could I not, really? It's the equivalent of sticking a bicycle pump in his ear and going to town -- and can I say again, GOD DAMN IT I HATE THAT FUCKING JACKET -- but it's my favorite human being on the cover of TIME magazine, for God's sake. It's one for the scrapbook.
Don't ask me how I afforded these things.
9:33 PM | e-mail |
Now added to the Portfolio: "Listen Closely", the second story written for my Creative Writing class. Find it under Fiction (though strictly speaking, that's not quite true).
Yesterday, I turned in the six pages of novel I've gotten down as my third story (no prompt to follow this time out) for the Creative Writing class. I'm very, very curious about the reaction, since it is (a.) not really a story per se, it's just an introduction, and (b.) I don't think it's very good. It's also extraordinarily self-indulgent and geeky and a lot of other things that don't normally make for good writing. So their reactions and criticism are going to be fascinating and hopefully informative. Once I see what they've said, I may do some rewriting and post the fucker up here to officially Get This Party Started. But we'll see.
3:02 PM | e-mail |
Yesterday, I turned in the six pages of novel I've gotten down as my third story (no prompt to follow this time out) for the Creative Writing class. I'm very, very curious about the reaction, since it is (a.) not really a story per se, it's just an introduction, and (b.) I don't think it's very good. It's also extraordinarily self-indulgent and geeky and a lot of other things that don't normally make for good writing. So their reactions and criticism are going to be fascinating and hopefully informative. Once I see what they've said, I may do some rewriting and post the fucker up here to officially Get This Party Started. But we'll see.
3:02 PM | e-mail |
The fucking snobs at Barnes & Noble do not have the new Kylie CD. Meaning I cannot use my gift cards to buy it, meaning I will have to use actual cash. Meaning I will officially be Dirt. Fucking. Poor.
The idea of not actually buying the CD right now has only briefly occured to me, and was quickly eliminated as an option.
I suck.
1:28 PM | e-mail |
The idea of not actually buying the CD right now has only briefly occured to me, and was quickly eliminated as an option.
I suck.
1:28 PM | e-mail |
Sunday, February 24, 2002
So I was looking for the lyrics to Michael Jackson's "Black Or White" (song of the weekend -- can't get that goddamn riff out of my head) and found them on this page. Scariest. Background. Image. Ever.
10:04 PM | e-mail |
10:04 PM | e-mail |
Saturday, February 23, 2002
Last night I made myself a promise. "Tomorrow, something about my life will change." And something did.
Tonight I wrote four full pages of the novel. It is officially underway. Some of what I wrote is terrible; some of it, I think, is quite good indeed. Three paragraphs flew out of me that instantly extinguished all my misgivings by incorporating them into the driving force of the book whole-cloth; and just like that, the floodgates opened. The process has begun. I'm writing again.
Fuck all of you. I'm back and I'm gonna crack some fucking heads. ;-D
10:34 PM | e-mail |
Tonight I wrote four full pages of the novel. It is officially underway. Some of what I wrote is terrible; some of it, I think, is quite good indeed. Three paragraphs flew out of me that instantly extinguished all my misgivings by incorporating them into the driving force of the book whole-cloth; and just like that, the floodgates opened. The process has begun. I'm writing again.
Fuck all of you. I'm back and I'm gonna crack some fucking heads. ;-D
10:34 PM | e-mail |
Friday, February 22, 2002
It's been extremely difficult to mope properly with Pink's "Get This Party Started" stuck in my head.
9:57 PM | e-mail |
9:57 PM | e-mail |
Well, it's still February. And you just can't let the shittiest month of the year go by without some sort of self-deprecating diatribe. As always, feel free to skip down to the funny post about Kylie Minogue, but be warned: you're missing something.
Occasionally I become relatively sure that I'm quite pathetic. I mean, look at me. I'm an intelligent, attractive (and humble) 19-year-old male in the greatest city on Earth. And I spend all of my time working on a fucking website. Literally. What else do I do with myself? Erin and I were out on St. Mark's Place yesterday while she ran some errands. And in the course of our discussion, we discovered that I only do the following things:
Why am I not in shape? I've got all this fucking free time, you'd think I could make it to the gym more than once every two weeks. And why am I not writing my novel? Would a page a day be that difficult? In the time it takes me to shuffle through the headlines at the NME and MTV News, or in the time it takes to make my eighteenth check of the day to see which of my favorite weblogs have updated, I could easily squeeze out a few paragraphs.
Honestly, I'm proud of what I've accomplished with this site. I'm amazed by the vast numbers of amazing people it's brought me into contact with; I'm proud of some of my writing; I'm proud of all the HTML I've learned. But I'm definitely getting into one of those depressing modes where It Feels Like I Could Be Doing Something Better. And if blogging's not fun for me right now, it's probably best that I not do it.
All of this was touched off by one very specific thing, a thing which I'm sure I'll talk about at a later date, but trust me, it was building anyway. Better to get it out of the way now.
So. Despite the fact that I've felt like I was hitting my stride here, and was producing an entertaining, readable weblog, I'm gonna take some time off. Not a lot of time off. Probably just a few days; hell, it could just be a few hours. The difference between the end of this post and the start of the next one is that instead of just getting up from the computer, I'm getting OFF of the computer for a while. I'm gonna take a look at my shit, think about what I intend to get done, and then figure out how I'll fit this site into it. I'm not quitting this site; far from it. Two weeks ago I reregistered this domain name until April of 2004. And god damn it I love to write. Like she said, you'll have to pry a keyboard from my cold, dead fingers.
It all comes down to that whole "two lives" distinction; the heavily-quotation-marked "real" life and the "virtual" one. I feel like right now, both of them are in better shape than they've been in a long, long, long time. But both could be better. So I'm going to go self-improve now. See you again when something's been done.
1:58 PM | e-mail |
Occasionally I become relatively sure that I'm quite pathetic. I mean, look at me. I'm an intelligent, attractive (and humble) 19-year-old male in the greatest city on Earth. And I spend all of my time working on a fucking website. Literally. What else do I do with myself? Erin and I were out on St. Mark's Place yesterday while she ran some errands. And in the course of our discussion, we discovered that I only do the following things:
- Sleep.
- Eat.
- Go to about sixty percent of my classes.
- Read (This is, I think, my only saving grace. I blew through Salman Rushdie's The Jaguar Smile in the last twenty-four hours).
- Listen to music.
- Crawl around on the fucking Internet.
Why am I not in shape? I've got all this fucking free time, you'd think I could make it to the gym more than once every two weeks. And why am I not writing my novel? Would a page a day be that difficult? In the time it takes me to shuffle through the headlines at the NME and MTV News, or in the time it takes to make my eighteenth check of the day to see which of my favorite weblogs have updated, I could easily squeeze out a few paragraphs.
Honestly, I'm proud of what I've accomplished with this site. I'm amazed by the vast numbers of amazing people it's brought me into contact with; I'm proud of some of my writing; I'm proud of all the HTML I've learned. But I'm definitely getting into one of those depressing modes where It Feels Like I Could Be Doing Something Better. And if blogging's not fun for me right now, it's probably best that I not do it.
All of this was touched off by one very specific thing, a thing which I'm sure I'll talk about at a later date, but trust me, it was building anyway. Better to get it out of the way now.
So. Despite the fact that I've felt like I was hitting my stride here, and was producing an entertaining, readable weblog, I'm gonna take some time off. Not a lot of time off. Probably just a few days; hell, it could just be a few hours. The difference between the end of this post and the start of the next one is that instead of just getting up from the computer, I'm getting OFF of the computer for a while. I'm gonna take a look at my shit, think about what I intend to get done, and then figure out how I'll fit this site into it. I'm not quitting this site; far from it. Two weeks ago I reregistered this domain name until April of 2004. And god damn it I love to write. Like she said, you'll have to pry a keyboard from my cold, dead fingers.
It all comes down to that whole "two lives" distinction; the heavily-quotation-marked "real" life and the "virtual" one. I feel like right now, both of them are in better shape than they've been in a long, long, long time. But both could be better. So I'm going to go self-improve now. See you again when something's been done.
1:58 PM | e-mail |
I suddenly seem to have become the subject of quite a lot of scorn.
Vive l'Internet.
12:57 PM | e-mail |
Vive l'Internet.
12:57 PM | e-mail |
Thursday, February 21, 2002
Tanya Headon hates Kylie Minogue. And just like that, my day is MADE. I haven't laughed this hard in a long, long time.
How disappointed do you think I was when Nick Cave - that eternal tease - sang about bumping Kylie off and then shagged her instead. It's a sad day when even the dark lords of pop cannot be trusted.
2:21 PM | e-mail |
How disappointed do you think I was when Nick Cave - that eternal tease - sang about bumping Kylie off and then shagged her instead. It's a sad day when even the dark lords of pop cannot be trusted.
2:21 PM | e-mail |
Wednesday, February 20, 2002
So everybody knows at this point that Rosie O'Donnell is a lesbian and is in the process of coming out. I'm just going to use this hilarious article from Salon (found at Trabaca) about rumors of feuding between Diane Sawyer and Barbara Walters over The Big Interview to point out how fantastic I think this is. She's smart, she's (somewhat) funny, she's a family woman, people respect her; this can only do good things. And while (and boy, I'm gonna catch some shit for this) I feel like homosexuality amongst women has been made slightly less of an issue in the culture at large then homosexuality for men, it still takes brass balls (or brass something) for a media figure like her to go for it. So: congratulations. I don't like your talk show but I like what you're doing anyway.
It's no secret that I'd love to be a rock star, and honestly, part of the reason why it holds so much appeal for me (though it's not necessarily a principal, or even a consequential, reason) is because I feel like being an openly gay frontman would be a very impressive thing. We've got Michael Stipe but he didn't even mention his sexuality for twenty years (which is an amazing thing when you're a songwriter -- how can you produce twelve albums and not write songs about sex? It boggles the mind), and we've got plenty of other gay musicians but they're either not a popular force (i.e. Rufus Wainwright) or haven't admitted that they're gay (cough cough). It seems like a shockingly easy way to get media attention, too. Can't believe nobody's hit on it yet.
Of course, my being an openly gay rockstar would necessarily be presaged by coming out to my parents, wouldn't it. Ahem. Let's not talk about that right now.
6:05 PM | e-mail |
It's no secret that I'd love to be a rock star, and honestly, part of the reason why it holds so much appeal for me (though it's not necessarily a principal, or even a consequential, reason) is because I feel like being an openly gay frontman would be a very impressive thing. We've got Michael Stipe but he didn't even mention his sexuality for twenty years (which is an amazing thing when you're a songwriter -- how can you produce twelve albums and not write songs about sex? It boggles the mind), and we've got plenty of other gay musicians but they're either not a popular force (i.e. Rufus Wainwright) or haven't admitted that they're gay (cough cough). It seems like a shockingly easy way to get media attention, too. Can't believe nobody's hit on it yet.
Of course, my being an openly gay rockstar would necessarily be presaged by coming out to my parents, wouldn't it. Ahem. Let's not talk about that right now.
6:05 PM | e-mail |
And then, of course, a single stray click on Megnut turns up a worthy link: NYC Etiquette. I am glad to learn that I am, in fact, not a complete boor and that I do most of these things all the time.
5:53 PM | e-mail |
5:53 PM | e-mail |
One of my favorite things about the current plasticbag design is how it breaks his earlier archives -- take the first one, for example. One day's posts will be compressed into one massive streaming block of sentences and information, and honestly, that makes it fun for me, picking out the various strands. Sort of reminds me of a long newspaper blind-item column, too. "Which weblogger is unemployed, single and loveless, running out of money" etc...
On a slightly separate note, it still makes me laugh to see Megnut referenced like it is something we may never have encountered before. Were we ever so young.
5:44 PM | e-mail |
On a slightly separate note, it still makes me laugh to see Megnut referenced like it is something we may never have encountered before. Were we ever so young.
5:44 PM | e-mail |
Tuesday, February 19, 2002
So the performing lineup for the 2002 Grammys now includes the following:
Good:
I don't envy the Grammy programmers their job -- they essentially have to put together the most entertaining (and saleable) festival bill they can while maintaining a shred of artistic credibility and restricting each interesting act to one song apiece. God bless 'em for trying, though I'm sure it'll fall flat like it does every year. "Fuck The Grammys" is tempting, but I'm thinking no...
5:26 PM | e-mail |
Good:
- U2 (Please, please do "Elevation," we're tired of everything else)
- Outkast (certain to perform "Ms. Jackson")
- Bob Dylan (certain to perform "Honest With Me")
- The women of "Lady Marmalade" (Christina Aguilera, Li'l Kim, Mya, Pink, and Missy Elliot) (Guess what they'll be singing)
- Alejandro Sanz with Destiny's Child (I don't know who he is, but damn I know who they are)
- N'Sync with Nelly (One or the other, maybe. But not together. Jesus.)
- Train (ugh.) (Singing that fucking godawful song)
- Alan Jackson (though I suppose some country artist has to play)
- Dave Matthews Band (probably "The Space Between")
- Alicia Keys (Hmm, "Fallin' " much?)
- A tribute to "O Brother, Where Art Thou"
- Joshua Bell (Classical crossover nominee)
I don't envy the Grammy programmers their job -- they essentially have to put together the most entertaining (and saleable) festival bill they can while maintaining a shred of artistic credibility and restricting each interesting act to one song apiece. God bless 'em for trying, though I'm sure it'll fall flat like it does every year. "Fuck The Grammys" is tempting, but I'm thinking no...
5:26 PM | e-mail |
35 excellent photographs from the third leg of U2's Elevation Tour.
(via U2log.com)
2:01 PM | e-mail |
(via U2log.com)
2:01 PM | e-mail |
Presenting the Do You Feel Loved? weblog links list (no pop-up), now with annotations and commentary. Go visit my friends, why don't you.
12:12 PM | e-mail |
12:12 PM | e-mail |
I am shorn once more. Tonight I buzzed off all the bleached-blonde hair; I'm back to being a stubble-headed rogue. To be honest, I liked the idea of going blonde, but the execution this time out was lacking (I was too friggin' impatient and didn't leave the shit in long enough, even when we did it twice; plus, there were still dark spots on my temples) and I was kind of flip-flopping back and forth on my appreciation of how it looked -- sometimes I liked that it made me gayer without being too sissy, other times I thought it looked absurd. So once this buzz-job grows out again, we'll see what happens.
One picture was taken with the bleach this weekend, but it probably won't be developed for a while yet. C'est la vie.
And just to amuse myself, while shaving it off I left a mohawk down the center for a few minutes. File that one away for future consideration during the rock-star years.
12:41 AM | e-mail |
One picture was taken with the bleach this weekend, but it probably won't be developed for a while yet. C'est la vie.
And just to amuse myself, while shaving it off I left a mohawk down the center for a few minutes. File that one away for future consideration during the rock-star years.
12:41 AM | e-mail |
Monday, February 18, 2002
Fun fact of the evening: I live across the street from Janeane Garafalo. I followed her home tonight. I kind of had to, since Jeremy and I wound up walking right behind her on the way back to my dorm after seeing In The Bedroom. I'm pretty sure she was terrified of me, since when they (her and her absurdly tall boyfriend) first passed us on Eighth Street I was loudly and surreally acting out the entirety of the Lord Of The Rings trilogy for Jeremy's benefit ("I'm Gandalf! I'm a gay wizard!"). So yeah, there you go.
1:17 AM | e-mail |
1:17 AM | e-mail |
Sunday, February 17, 2002
I mistakenly linked to the wrong cookie company earlier -- it is, in fact, these people who make the world's best peanut-butter cookies. Gurgle.
4:29 PM | e-mail |
4:29 PM | e-mail |
FUCK MTV!: Fast forward to a few years later? That just takes some time.
These are the first shots in a week-long salvo of new content over at FMTV!; we intend to go out with a bang before closing up for a few weeks and relaunching. Enjoy it while you can.
On an unrelated note... has anyone else noticed that Blogger's codestamp post-ID numbers are rapidly approaching 10,000,000? They'll crack eight digits soon. I hope there's not some kind of weird Y2K-style bug connected to that, and they'll make the transition with ease...
3:07 PM | e-mail |
These are the first shots in a week-long salvo of new content over at FMTV!; we intend to go out with a bang before closing up for a few weeks and relaunching. Enjoy it while you can.
On an unrelated note... has anyone else noticed that Blogger's codestamp post-ID numbers are rapidly approaching 10,000,000? They'll crack eight digits soon. I hope there's not some kind of weird Y2K-style bug connected to that, and they'll make the transition with ease...
3:07 PM | e-mail |
Prol lets everyone experience Liam Neeson's seven-inch. In the words of a wise woman: "Oh. My. God."
2:15 PM | e-mail |
2:15 PM | e-mail |
I read an article about this in the New York Times about a year or so ago, I think... anyway, it's fascinating. Roden Crater in Arizona is the site of a massive installation piece by James Turrell, and it'll be open to the public soon.
(via I Love Everything -- love that new design)
The NYT piece had a bunch of pictures to go with it -- I'll try to dig a link out of their archives, though of course you'd have to pay $2.50.
12:17 PM | e-mail |
(via I Love Everything -- love that new design)
The NYT piece had a bunch of pictures to go with it -- I'll try to dig a link out of their archives, though of course you'd have to pay $2.50.
12:17 PM | e-mail |
You know, I've been wondering for a couple of days now... what is the deal with the fire retardant suits?
12:08 AM | e-mail |
12:08 AM | e-mail |
Michele alphabetized her unbelievably huge weblogs link-list. And just like that, I'm not special anymore. (I used to be the third one down, see...)
(I'm kidding, M. Mostly. OK, entirely.)
12:04 AM | e-mail |
(I'm kidding, M. Mostly. OK, entirely.)
12:04 AM | e-mail |
Saturday, February 16, 2002
Today has been characterized by bloat. Bloat induced by eating something resembling two dozen of these cookies, sent to me for Valentine's Day by my mom and dad. God damn, they must love me. The peanut-butter ones are a pure fucking orgasm, let me tell you... I don't even want to think about how much they must cost to be this good, but oh wow are they ever. Thank you, mom and dad. Even if you're not reading this. (Which hopefully, you aren't.)
10:28 PM | e-mail |
10:28 PM | e-mail |
Simon @ Minor 9th has jumped aboard our freaky death-cult of musical purge. That sentence makes no sense whatsoever, but I think you understand what I'm talking about. Right?
5:27 PM | e-mail |
5:27 PM | e-mail |
I know there's a new candidate for this award every month or so in the weblogging community, but really, believe me this time: this is the best 404 error page ever.
(via lukelog)
5:21 PM | e-mail |
(via lukelog)
5:21 PM | e-mail |
It's old news that these went on sale, but I just now got around to taking a look at them. And Oh My God. It's shameless and pathetic and just beyond impractical, since I have no money... but yes, I want a pair of Bono's Fly shades.
5:10 PM | e-mail |
5:10 PM | e-mail |
Friday, February 15, 2002
God, referral logs rock. From travis.kroh.net, I find that he's posted his High Fidelity Top Five lists -- his own personal responses to all the Top Five lists mentioned in the film version of High Fidelity. (I probably didn't have to explain that, did I.) I'm going to rip him off and do the same. This list is subject to its becoming completely irrelevant and non-representative in three days or so.
All-Time Top Five Recording Artists
7:39 PM | e-mail |
All-Time Top Five Recording Artists
- U2
- R.E.M.
- The Smashing Pumpkins
- Gavin Friday
- Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds
- Kylie Minogue - Light Years
- U2 - Pop
- PJ Harvey - Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea
- Weezer - Weezer (1994)
- Basement Jaxx - Remedy
- U2 - "Where The Streets Have No Name" (The Joshua Tree)
- PJ Harvey - "Rid Of Me" (Rid Of Me)
- Pogues - "Transmetropolitan" (Red Roses For Me)
- The Who - "Baba O'Riley" (Who's Next)
- Depeche Mode - "Black Celebration" (Black Celebration)
- R.E.M. - "Man On The Moon"
- Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - "The Mercy Seat"
- Depeche Mode - "Fly On The Windscreen (Final)"
- Gavin Friday and Maurice Seezer - "Each Man Kills The Thing He Loves"
- Tori Amos - "Spark"
- Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds - "Brompton Oratory"
- Bob Marley and The Wailers - "No Woman No Cry"
- U2 - "With Or Without You"
- Kylie Minogue - "Your Disco Needs You"
- Basement Jaxx - "Where's Your Head At"
- U2 - Achtung Baby
- R.E.M. - Automatic For The People
- Gavin Friday - Shag Tobacco
- Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds -The Boatman's Call
- Weezer - Pinkerton
- Rock Star (Specifically, singer). Travel world, entertain people, wear silly clothing. Potentially be given the opportunity to shake Bono's hand (then punch him in the mouth.)
- Rock Critic. Entertain people, make fun of rock stars in silly clothing. Potentially be given the opportunity to shake Bono's hand (then punch him in the mouth.)
- Powerball Lottery Winner. Spend money that you got with absolutely no work.
- Novelist. Write big huge books about silly things. Be venerated for crap somebody else projected onto your book. Potential to sell out and make lots of money. (Alternative: comic book writer. Less money, slightly more interesting work.)
- Label Chief. Sign cool musicians. Make absurd amounts of money. Buck the status quo and make the board of directors your bitch.
7:39 PM | e-mail |
The Editing Room - Vanilla Sky. Rod Hilton = megagenius.
TOM CRUISE and PENELOPE CRUZ really hit it off, as evidenced by virtually NOTHING.
TOM CRUISE
I'm madly in love with you, Penelope, but not as in love as I am with myself. Actually, that's why I like you, your last name has me partly convinced you're me.
PENELOPE CRUZ
I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, I was busy writing my own name and drawing big stars all around it.
(Thanks to Jeremy for the reminder)
3:13 PM | e-mail |
TOM CRUISE and PENELOPE CRUZ really hit it off, as evidenced by virtually NOTHING.
TOM CRUISE
I'm madly in love with you, Penelope, but not as in love as I am with myself. Actually, that's why I like you, your last name has me partly convinced you're me.
PENELOPE CRUZ
I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, I was busy writing my own name and drawing big stars all around it.
(Thanks to Jeremy for the reminder)
3:13 PM | e-mail |
On the heels of the "Dido demographic" meme comes Prol's "Confess Your Musical Sins" meme-in-waiting. I'll bite. You'll note that most of these records aren't on my CD listing, mainly because I pretend I don't own them anymore -- I left them in a big heap under my bed back home in Florida.
11:44 AM | e-mail |
- Hootie And The Blowfish - Cracked Rear View
- The Rembrandts - LP (Features the theme song from "Friends")
- Friends Soundtrack (So then why the hell do I own this? Even if there are a couple of good songs on it...)
- Dave Matthews Band - Under The Table And Dreaming (I just really, really don't like them anymore.)
- The Mask - Original Score AND Original Soundtrack (It was my favorite movie when I was thirteen. Kill me now, stop me breeding.)
- Spin Doctors - Turn It Upside Down (I listened to it once. A thoroughly terrible record. I still stand by Pocket Full Of Kryptonite, however.)
11:44 AM | e-mail |
OK, here's my to-do list for the day that is today, which I will be facing once I wake up. So it's tomorrow. But it's today. You know what I fucking mean. I'm posting it here because I'm sure to see it tomorrow when I make my status-check of the site, and hopefully that'll smack me about the head and shoulders and make me Accomplish.
It is written in the second person because I felt like it.
Do some fucking laundry, you filthy pig.
And fold it this time.
Mail your tax return. You have almost $100 coming to you and god DAMN do you need that money. And come on, you lazy shit, you can see the post office from your fucking window. A cross-town trek it ain't.
Clean this pit you call a room.
Do more research on these bad boys. Perhaps you should go back to Digital Society, since their display copy was much more fun to play with than the NYU Computer Store's was.
Stare questioningly at your newly orange head.
Call mom and dad and talk to them about the aforementioned bad boys.
Find true love, happiness, and the booty. (Optional.)
1:00 AM | e-mail |
It is written in the second person because I felt like it.
1:00 AM | e-mail |
Thursday, February 14, 2002
Happy Valentine's Day, everyone. Life sucks.
Forgive today's angsty posting. I've just come to the realization that this is the first Valentine's Day upon which I've actually cared about the fact that I'm single. And lonely. And really, really, pathetically wanting a boyfriend.
Apparently, last night my friends tried to make me a profile on Match.com. They were tired of hearing me moan about how I want the lovin' and had decided to try to find me a nice boy who wasn't too friggin' gay. Which is kind of my criteria. I think my standards are waaaaay too high... but I digress. After a lot of confusion while they tried to conceal this fact from me, the notion was eventually discarded. Which is all for the better... when it comes right down to it, I know I could have a sad Internet relationship, or I could go out and get laid tomorrow. But -- and this is shameful confession time -- any relationship I start now would be my first relationship. Ever. And I'd like it to happen in a somewhat plausibly organic manner.
Normally this wouldn't weigh on my mind so much, but for some reason, the whole coming-out extravaganza has really brought it to the fore. I'm practically obsessed. It's started invading my subconscious. Last night I dreamed that a guy I knew in high school (he doesn't read this weblog, or at least not that I know of) came out. And that dream made me so profoundly happy, because as most of my friends know, I would die a thousand times over for a single crack at this guy. Even if he is probably straight. But then I woke up and realized it was a dream. And just like that, my day was ruined.
Erin and I decided to console our loneliness through materialistic want, so we went out and stared at the gorgeous new iMac at Digital Society (I very seriously might buy one of those), and then bought hair bleach. My hair's absurdly long right now (for me, anyway), and I'm desperately bored of it, so we're bleaching the whole mess blonde. If I decide that I hate it, I'll just shave it off. Simple. Besides, blonde is pretty damn gay, or at least it would be on me. And I need to give off some tiny little hints here and there.
One final thing. One of the first things that made it very clear to me that Erin was a cool chick was that she liked Depeche Mode. And one of the things that convinced me she was a genius is the pet name that her and her friend Anne came up with for Martin Gore's singing style -- they call it "wheedling for booty." Tell me there's nothing more precise than that. In any event, we both agree that Martin's wheedling is largely intolerable, and that one song, of all songs, is the greatest offender. But on Valentine's Day -- in a case like this, you might say -- he can get away with it. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the most execrably sentimental song in the Depeche Mode oeuvre, a song which despite its horrifying inanity is speaking giant, soppy, gushy, self-loathing-inspiring volumes to me today. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is Depeche Mode's "Somebody," live in Pasadena, CA, 1988.
5:36 PM | e-mail |
Forgive today's angsty posting. I've just come to the realization that this is the first Valentine's Day upon which I've actually cared about the fact that I'm single. And lonely. And really, really, pathetically wanting a boyfriend.
Apparently, last night my friends tried to make me a profile on Match.com. They were tired of hearing me moan about how I want the lovin' and had decided to try to find me a nice boy who wasn't too friggin' gay. Which is kind of my criteria. I think my standards are waaaaay too high... but I digress. After a lot of confusion while they tried to conceal this fact from me, the notion was eventually discarded. Which is all for the better... when it comes right down to it, I know I could have a sad Internet relationship, or I could go out and get laid tomorrow. But -- and this is shameful confession time -- any relationship I start now would be my first relationship. Ever. And I'd like it to happen in a somewhat plausibly organic manner.
Normally this wouldn't weigh on my mind so much, but for some reason, the whole coming-out extravaganza has really brought it to the fore. I'm practically obsessed. It's started invading my subconscious. Last night I dreamed that a guy I knew in high school (he doesn't read this weblog, or at least not that I know of) came out. And that dream made me so profoundly happy, because as most of my friends know, I would die a thousand times over for a single crack at this guy. Even if he is probably straight. But then I woke up and realized it was a dream. And just like that, my day was ruined.
Erin and I decided to console our loneliness through materialistic want, so we went out and stared at the gorgeous new iMac at Digital Society (I very seriously might buy one of those), and then bought hair bleach. My hair's absurdly long right now (for me, anyway), and I'm desperately bored of it, so we're bleaching the whole mess blonde. If I decide that I hate it, I'll just shave it off. Simple. Besides, blonde is pretty damn gay, or at least it would be on me. And I need to give off some tiny little hints here and there.
One final thing. One of the first things that made it very clear to me that Erin was a cool chick was that she liked Depeche Mode. And one of the things that convinced me she was a genius is the pet name that her and her friend Anne came up with for Martin Gore's singing style -- they call it "wheedling for booty." Tell me there's nothing more precise than that. In any event, we both agree that Martin's wheedling is largely intolerable, and that one song, of all songs, is the greatest offender. But on Valentine's Day -- in a case like this, you might say -- he can get away with it. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the most execrably sentimental song in the Depeche Mode oeuvre, a song which despite its horrifying inanity is speaking giant, soppy, gushy, self-loathing-inspiring volumes to me today. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is Depeche Mode's "Somebody," live in Pasadena, CA, 1988.
5:36 PM | e-mail |
Wednesday, February 13, 2002
Oh my sweet lord in heaven. Pulp's promo campaign for "Bad Cover Version" just keeps getting better -- now you can watch the video, which is -- and I couldn't make this up if I tried -- a remake of the Band-Aid "Do They Know It's Christmas?" video, featuring celebrity impersonators of today's biggest stars singing the re-recorded lyrics of the Pulp tune. FUCKING. GENIUS. AAARGH. I think the Bjork imitator is my favorite... or maybe Kurt Cobain (!).
4:19 PM | e-mail |
4:19 PM | e-mail |
I'm sorry. None of the rest of you had to see that.
A little souvenir from this weekend.
12:03 PM | e-mail |
Tuesday, February 12, 2002
So the Village Voice's 2001 Pazz & Jop Critics' Poll results are in. Blah blah hipster indie rock music, blah blah Timbaland, blah blah Bob Dylan gets album of the year. Sucks to the first, huzzah to the second, and "I own it but have not listened to it all yet, though I'm sure it's a remarkable piece of music" to the third. I haven't read all the accompanying essays (I just grabbed the issue off the rack at Virgin a little while ago -- cut me some friggin' slack), so don't expect any major commentary tonight. I will, however say two things:
(1.) If you are a critic who voted for U2's All That You Can't Leave Behind for album of the year, then (a.) you have good taste and (b.) YOU ARE AN IDIOT. THAT ALBUM CAME OUT IN 2000. IT DOES NOT QUALIFY. GAAAAAAH.
(2.) I do find it funny that the poll was released on the same day that I posted about Best-Of-Year anthologies in The Mediablog. Their list is cooler. But I like mine more, because it is mine.
(3.) This post was corrected and re-edited Wednesday morning to remove an extra "it" in the second note that was immensely troubling to one Shane W. Keane of New Hampshire. Thanks for reading, Mr. Keane, and we hope to hear from you again sometime. You pedantic fuck. (I kid. Mainly. How you doing, man?)
9:28 PM | e-mail |
(1.) If you are a critic who voted for U2's All That You Can't Leave Behind for album of the year, then (a.) you have good taste and (b.) YOU ARE AN IDIOT. THAT ALBUM CAME OUT IN 2000. IT DOES NOT QUALIFY. GAAAAAAH.
(2.) I do find it funny that the poll was released on the same day that I posted about Best-Of-Year anthologies in The Mediablog. Their list is cooler. But I like mine more, because it is mine.
(3.) This post was corrected and re-edited Wednesday morning to remove an extra "it" in the second note that was immensely troubling to one Shane W. Keane of New Hampshire. Thanks for reading, Mr. Keane, and we hope to hear from you again sometime. You pedantic fuck. (I kid. Mainly. How you doing, man?)
9:28 PM | e-mail |
Monday, February 11, 2002
Prepare yourselves for the first Gorillaz rip-off band. And read on to learn of their chilling link to UB40 (!).
12:35 PM | e-mail |
12:35 PM | e-mail |
So I did not win the Anti-Bloggie for Most Distracting Background Image. Even though it would practically have been a lifetime acheivement award, I'm perfectly willing to allow the award to go to this worthy winner. YIKES.
;-D
And hey, congrats to Michele for winning Best Heterosexual Weblog. Although, if you're defined by the company you keep...
10:54 AM | e-mail |
;-D
And hey, congrats to Michele for winning Best Heterosexual Weblog. Although, if you're defined by the company you keep...
10:54 AM | e-mail |
Sunday, February 10, 2002
I'm updating my weblog here at Len's dorm, simply because Jeremy asked me to. He's standing behind me with a video camera, so I feel compelled to perform. We just had a lovely dinner (cooked by Len), told lots of horrible jokes, listened to lots of music which varied wildly in quality, and repeatedly paid homage to Cameron Crowe. And now, I'm off again.
10:56 PM | e-mail |
10:56 PM | e-mail |
And just like that, I own Peter Gabriel's So.
It cost me essentially $20, since I just bought it full-price at Virgin for convenience's sake, but whatever. I have it. I am pleased.
12:38 AM | e-mail |
It cost me essentially $20, since I just bought it full-price at Virgin for convenience's sake, but whatever. I have it. I am pleased.
12:38 AM | e-mail |
Saturday, February 09, 2002
And just like that, I'm possessed by an overwhelming desire to own Peter Gabriel's So.
Well, OK. It's not "just like that" at all. In fact it's been building since Thursday afternoon, when Jeremy and I, waiting for Ashley/Jackie/Kelly's plane to arrive at Laguardia, noted that in the new Entertainment Weekly, Say Anything had been named the magazine's #1 Modern Romance Film. And somehow, the idea of holding a boombox playing "In Your Eyes" became the running gag of the weekend. It's recurred at least fifteen times a day since that afternoon. Jeremy actually bought a boombox and did it tonight. So fuck all the other shit I've bought in the last few days: Peter Gabriel's So must be my souvenir of February 7th-10th, 2002. Of course, the last damn thing I need to do right now is go out and spend yet more money -- after the excesses of the past few days, it's back to fiscal-crunch mode for me -- but I really, really want this album. Now.
11:53 PM | e-mail |
Well, OK. It's not "just like that" at all. In fact it's been building since Thursday afternoon, when Jeremy and I, waiting for Ashley/Jackie/Kelly's plane to arrive at Laguardia, noted that in the new Entertainment Weekly, Say Anything had been named the magazine's #1 Modern Romance Film. And somehow, the idea of holding a boombox playing "In Your Eyes" became the running gag of the weekend. It's recurred at least fifteen times a day since that afternoon. Jeremy actually bought a boombox and did it tonight. So fuck all the other shit I've bought in the last few days: Peter Gabriel's So must be my souvenir of February 7th-10th, 2002. Of course, the last damn thing I need to do right now is go out and spend yet more money -- after the excesses of the past few days, it's back to fiscal-crunch mode for me -- but I really, really want this album. Now.
11:53 PM | e-mail |
My God the last few days have been busy beyond all possible rational belief. Until I have the time to describe their many varied aspects in excruciating detail, I'll just mention these two interesting Netbits: I was apparently cited in a Brazilian article on weblogging (and the traffic from it apparently gave me my all-time high hit-count on Thursday when, of course, I could not check my stats), and I've scored my first official U2log.com "scoop": an MP3 clip of Craig Armstrong and Bono's new recording of "Stay (Faraway, So Close!)". Yes, I do have the whole album as well, and no, I shan't tell you where it came from. And now, I'm running away to Times Square to eat dinner. Enjoy your evening.
6:31 PM | e-mail |
6:31 PM | e-mail |
Wednesday, February 06, 2002
Salman Rushdie on anti-Americanism. I will say more about this later, but right now, I should be in class.
(via 2xy.org)
10:33 AM | e-mail |
(via 2xy.org)
10:33 AM | e-mail |
You know what? The next week is going to be a bitch and a half.
Tomorrow, I have three classes, none of which I am prepared for. I'll have a brief three-hour break after Creative Writing at 3:15, but then tomorrow night I'm taking my sister out to dinner (here -- oh God it's good). Then, two classes Thursday morning, and straight from the last one (out at 1:45) to LaGuardia with Jeremy to pick up Ashley, Jackie, and Kelly, three of my friends from high school who are visiting this weekend. They'll probably suck up every second of my time until Monday morning, when they depart and when I go to class again (at 9:30 in the morning). Spectacular.
Of course, I'm going to have an absurd amount of fun with the A.J.K. unit, but still. I hate having obligations. ;-D
Anyway, if the blog's unreasonably quiet for the next few days, then you now know the score. Hopefully, I'll grab some time that I can waste.
12:34 AM | e-mail |
Tomorrow, I have three classes, none of which I am prepared for. I'll have a brief three-hour break after Creative Writing at 3:15, but then tomorrow night I'm taking my sister out to dinner (here -- oh God it's good). Then, two classes Thursday morning, and straight from the last one (out at 1:45) to LaGuardia with Jeremy to pick up Ashley, Jackie, and Kelly, three of my friends from high school who are visiting this weekend. They'll probably suck up every second of my time until Monday morning, when they depart and when I go to class again (at 9:30 in the morning). Spectacular.
Of course, I'm going to have an absurd amount of fun with the A.J.K. unit, but still. I hate having obligations. ;-D
Anyway, if the blog's unreasonably quiet for the next few days, then you now know the score. Hopefully, I'll grab some time that I can waste.
12:34 AM | e-mail |
Tuesday, February 05, 2002
In an effort to avoid doing my homework I installed the Nutshell toolbar. It's spiffy. And boy, is it killing some time.
(via Prol and Lia, again)
Also having an amusing conversation with Michele on AIM. She's trying to hook me up. I fear.
9:43 PM | e-mail |
(via Prol and Lia, again)
Also having an amusing conversation with Michele on AIM. She's trying to hook me up. I fear.
9:43 PM | e-mail |
And continuing on the cleaning-house tip from below...
I've added a few more weblog links. I often forget to update that listing, then I see someone else link to a site I'm reading, and it jars me back to consciousness. For example: Tom linked to Trabaca the other day, which forced me to realize that I've been stopping in there more or less daily for a little while. Meaning it pretty much qualifies as linkable. So I added that one a few days ago. Added today are Boing Boing, which I learned of through Lia and was reminded of through Prol, and Minor 9th, who's in my referral logs all the time and who says shockingly nice things about me in the alt-text of his link. What a nice young man. (BTW, hope you feel better soon.)
I swear that you care about all this bureaucratic nonsense. But please do visit those excellent sites. OK, hype-machine is switched off.
I got an e-mail the other day from an NYU student named Phil. He'd been working on a paper about the weblogging phenomenon, and had interviewed me and several other NYU bloggers by e-mail just before Thanksgiving. This recent e-mail thanked us for our help, but informed us that the paper had to be dropped for a variety of reasons. While cleaning up my hard drive this afternoon, I found the copy I'd saved of my responses to Phil's questions; I'd figured at the time it would make a good blog post. And hopefully, it will.
---------------------------------
When did you start your blog?
October 23rd, 2000, a couple months into my freshman year at NYU. I'd been reading several weblogs for some time before that -- I actually probably started reading right as they started to proliferate -- so I kind of feel like I'd just barely made it into the community before it blew up.
What type of software, services, etc do you use for it?
I use Blogger to update. I'm hosted on Doteasy, which gives me 20MB of webspace, and 1G of transfers, for free in exchange for getting obnoxious junk mail sent to me. I only have to pay $20 a year for the domain name. I write all my HTML in Notepad -- no HTML editors whatsoever -- and make all of my crappy graphics in MSPaint, because I don't know how to work Photoshop yet. Nor do I have it.
What kind of content do you like to feature? Do you consider your site more a personal diary or a collection of linkage in an everything/nothing vein?
Well, I definitely do write about my personal life, but I find I spend a lot more time speaking about my interests -- mainly music. I also tend to speak at length about comic books, movies, books, etc. -- I'm a bit of a media addict and that's pretty much my abiding personality trait. So yeah, stupid stuff about how I'm feeling makes it in there quite a bit, but a lot of people kind of treat my blog like a music news and commentary site. Which, honestly, I don't much mind.
Is your site aimed more at a small group of acquaintances or are you trying to attract as many hits as possible? Is it for fun or fame?
I'd definitely say I'm going for a wider audience -- there's a pretty strong small community of people who read me that I know in real life and only on the web, and occasionally I'll write things that only they'd understand. But I'd like my blog to be enjoyable for anyone who stumbles across it. I wouldn't say I'm desperately trying to be a BigBlogger who attracts a thousand hits a day or what have you, but I do enjoy attention. Overall, it's just for fun.
About how much time per day do you spend working on your site?
It varies pretty widely. An average day, maybe about twenty minutes to half an hour. Some days I don't touch it; some days I never leave the building and just spend all day writing HTML. That's only for sitewide redesigns, though -- generally it doesn't take up much of my day at all. The web surfing that gets logged on the site, however... I spend at least two hours a day online, generally, reading other weblogs and news sites.
How many hits do you get?
Most people are touchy about that, but honestly, I don't really care. I get around 120 visits a day; I know a lot of those are repeated visitors, and some of them are me. So I'd estimate I have around seventy-five core readers, with several more coming in on a trial basis occasionally, and a couple dozen hits per day spawned from web searches. (Ed. note -- this figure is now larger. Not by much, but it's larger. "I don't really care" my ass. ;-D)
How do you feel about revealing your personal info and the daily details of your life? Why do you do it?
I tend to have very little problem with it. I like to talk about myself; I'm an egotist. Not all bloggers are. On one level or another, I'd say it helps me to talk about myself; when I hear myself bitching I get a better idea of what's wrong or of what I'm thinking. Sometimes misery just loves company. Or I'll be so happy about something that I have to share, and it's more satisfying for me to put it in words and send it out to everyone than to jump on the phone and chirp excitedly at one or two of my friends.
Has there been information or occurrences that you specifically avoided posting, and have you had any negative repercussions from things you have revealed?
I've stuck my foot in my mouth on many occasions, but I haven't had anything truly disastrous happen to me as a result of posting personal info about myself or others. The one thing I sort of avoided posting for a while was that I was gay. Which had much less to do with my fear of repercussions, or my uncertainty about my sexuality, than it did about simple expedience. And honestly, I really didn't consider it to be that big a deal. It's not that defining a characteristic of my personality. So I actually didn't come out on my weblog until its first anniversary, and I'd just come out to all my friends the day before. It was just time for a clearing house. I've gotten no grief about it, and all of my friends and readers are entirely supportive. I've been getting more hits ever since, actually.
Have you considered adding a webcam?
Yeah, but then, I'm a narcissist. I don't have the money for one and I don't know how to code it, though, so I'm not that hung up on it. Would be kind of fun, though.
---------------------------------
And now, i'm peeling my eyeballs away from this fucking monitor and doing my reading, damn it.
5:44 PM | e-mail |
I've added a few more weblog links. I often forget to update that listing, then I see someone else link to a site I'm reading, and it jars me back to consciousness. For example: Tom linked to Trabaca the other day, which forced me to realize that I've been stopping in there more or less daily for a little while. Meaning it pretty much qualifies as linkable. So I added that one a few days ago. Added today are Boing Boing, which I learned of through Lia and was reminded of through Prol, and Minor 9th, who's in my referral logs all the time and who says shockingly nice things about me in the alt-text of his link. What a nice young man. (BTW, hope you feel better soon.)
I swear that you care about all this bureaucratic nonsense. But please do visit those excellent sites. OK, hype-machine is switched off.
I got an e-mail the other day from an NYU student named Phil. He'd been working on a paper about the weblogging phenomenon, and had interviewed me and several other NYU bloggers by e-mail just before Thanksgiving. This recent e-mail thanked us for our help, but informed us that the paper had to be dropped for a variety of reasons. While cleaning up my hard drive this afternoon, I found the copy I'd saved of my responses to Phil's questions; I'd figured at the time it would make a good blog post. And hopefully, it will.
---------------------------------
When did you start your blog?
October 23rd, 2000, a couple months into my freshman year at NYU. I'd been reading several weblogs for some time before that -- I actually probably started reading right as they started to proliferate -- so I kind of feel like I'd just barely made it into the community before it blew up.
What type of software, services, etc do you use for it?
I use Blogger to update. I'm hosted on Doteasy, which gives me 20MB of webspace, and 1G of transfers, for free in exchange for getting obnoxious junk mail sent to me. I only have to pay $20 a year for the domain name. I write all my HTML in Notepad -- no HTML editors whatsoever -- and make all of my crappy graphics in MSPaint, because I don't know how to work Photoshop yet. Nor do I have it.
What kind of content do you like to feature? Do you consider your site more a personal diary or a collection of linkage in an everything/nothing vein?
Well, I definitely do write about my personal life, but I find I spend a lot more time speaking about my interests -- mainly music. I also tend to speak at length about comic books, movies, books, etc. -- I'm a bit of a media addict and that's pretty much my abiding personality trait. So yeah, stupid stuff about how I'm feeling makes it in there quite a bit, but a lot of people kind of treat my blog like a music news and commentary site. Which, honestly, I don't much mind.
Is your site aimed more at a small group of acquaintances or are you trying to attract as many hits as possible? Is it for fun or fame?
I'd definitely say I'm going for a wider audience -- there's a pretty strong small community of people who read me that I know in real life and only on the web, and occasionally I'll write things that only they'd understand. But I'd like my blog to be enjoyable for anyone who stumbles across it. I wouldn't say I'm desperately trying to be a BigBlogger who attracts a thousand hits a day or what have you, but I do enjoy attention. Overall, it's just for fun.
About how much time per day do you spend working on your site?
It varies pretty widely. An average day, maybe about twenty minutes to half an hour. Some days I don't touch it; some days I never leave the building and just spend all day writing HTML. That's only for sitewide redesigns, though -- generally it doesn't take up much of my day at all. The web surfing that gets logged on the site, however... I spend at least two hours a day online, generally, reading other weblogs and news sites.
How many hits do you get?
Most people are touchy about that, but honestly, I don't really care. I get around 120 visits a day; I know a lot of those are repeated visitors, and some of them are me. So I'd estimate I have around seventy-five core readers, with several more coming in on a trial basis occasionally, and a couple dozen hits per day spawned from web searches. (Ed. note -- this figure is now larger. Not by much, but it's larger. "I don't really care" my ass. ;-D)
How do you feel about revealing your personal info and the daily details of your life? Why do you do it?
I tend to have very little problem with it. I like to talk about myself; I'm an egotist. Not all bloggers are. On one level or another, I'd say it helps me to talk about myself; when I hear myself bitching I get a better idea of what's wrong or of what I'm thinking. Sometimes misery just loves company. Or I'll be so happy about something that I have to share, and it's more satisfying for me to put it in words and send it out to everyone than to jump on the phone and chirp excitedly at one or two of my friends.
Has there been information or occurrences that you specifically avoided posting, and have you had any negative repercussions from things you have revealed?
I've stuck my foot in my mouth on many occasions, but I haven't had anything truly disastrous happen to me as a result of posting personal info about myself or others. The one thing I sort of avoided posting for a while was that I was gay. Which had much less to do with my fear of repercussions, or my uncertainty about my sexuality, than it did about simple expedience. And honestly, I really didn't consider it to be that big a deal. It's not that defining a characteristic of my personality. So I actually didn't come out on my weblog until its first anniversary, and I'd just come out to all my friends the day before. It was just time for a clearing house. I've gotten no grief about it, and all of my friends and readers are entirely supportive. I've been getting more hits ever since, actually.
Have you considered adding a webcam?
Yeah, but then, I'm a narcissist. I don't have the money for one and I don't know how to code it, though, so I'm not that hung up on it. Would be kind of fun, though.
---------------------------------
And now, i'm peeling my eyeballs away from this fucking monitor and doing my reading, damn it.
5:44 PM | e-mail |
Bono was just spotted very close to my dorm. I am wondering if I am enough of a dork to go out and hunt him down. But if I captured him... what then?
3:47 PM | e-mail |
3:47 PM | e-mail |
In preparation for the upcoming hosting switchover, I went through every directory on the site and deleted all the old, unused crap -- fragments of unused redesigns, elements of designs past, little joke images, whatever I had lying around that wasn't being used. And in the process, I brought the total size of the site down from 11MB to 4.5MB. Mind you, there *was* an MP3 deleted in that stack of crap (Our Christmas special, "Fairytale Of New York" -- hope you got it by now), so that massive drop isn't really that impressive. But still, it's the principle -- I don't scream in horror when I open WS_FTP anymore. Tidiness is a beautiful thing sometimes.
Now, of course, I just have to clean my room. And the bathroom. Ahem... yikes.
2:28 PM | e-mail |
Now, of course, I just have to clean my room. And the bathroom. Ahem... yikes.
2:28 PM | e-mail |
Monday, February 04, 2002
Random bit of information -- this is my current desktop image. If you'd like a wider selection of similar rawkus DM images, click here.
7:53 PM | e-mail |
7:53 PM | e-mail |
Wa-hey! My mom just sent me my last paycheck from Old Navy. And it's significantly larger than I thought it was going to be. I don't understand how I can suddenly be so, well... rich! It's a heady feeling, let me tell you.
6:21 PM | e-mail |
6:21 PM | e-mail |
Sunday, February 03, 2002
I'm willing to bet this one already made the rounds, but this is the first time I've seen it -- USA Patriot Registration. Hee hee hee hee hee. (Thank you Jeremy)
11:17 PM | e-mail |
11:17 PM | e-mail |
U2 have performed at the Super Bowl, and I owe my friends some candy. I drew up a list of eight songs -- "Beautiful Day," "Elevation," "Stuck In A Moment...," "Walk On," "Pride," "One," "Where The Streets Have No Name," and "What's Going On" -- and bet six of my friends that if U2 played a song that wasn't on that list, I'd buy them all candy in the dining hall. I didn't reckon on the snippet of "MLK" that prefaced "...Streets...". (I could probably disqualify it -- that wasn't a full song -- but I'm an honorable fellow.) It's nice to be proven wrong, I suppose, and it shows that the band do retain a tiny spark of spontaneity...
That said, the performance was not an unqualified success. Bono clearly talked too much at the WEF yesterday. His voice was definitely raw, although he was giving it everything he had. And I'm not so sure about the juxtaposition of Sept. 11th victims (nice visual) and "...Streets...;" overplayed as it is, "Walk On" would've been more appropriate. And it's possible that the music (though not the vocal) was pre-recorded. Oh well. There's still the Grammys to look forward to.
8:51 PM | e-mail |
That said, the performance was not an unqualified success. Bono clearly talked too much at the WEF yesterday. His voice was definitely raw, although he was giving it everything he had. And I'm not so sure about the juxtaposition of Sept. 11th victims (nice visual) and "...Streets...;" overplayed as it is, "Walk On" would've been more appropriate. And it's possible that the music (though not the vocal) was pre-recorded. Oh well. There's still the Grammys to look forward to.
8:51 PM | e-mail |
I've started down the road to the great hosting switchover. I renewed my domain name today for two years, through Doteasy, as a "thank you" for the last year of shockingly decent free hosting. Once that's come through and is fully complete, I think I'll be opening up a hosting account with these folks (thanks, Sara). I'm a little suspicious of anyone this cheap, but I figure I'll just sign up for a few months' trial period and switch if I have to. Then, once THAT's set up, I'll be closing the doors on FUCK MTV! for about a month while I scour the globe for new staff, install Movable Type, revamp the design a bit... exciting times ahead.
Thanks again to everyone who counselled me on the hosting issue.
4:19 PM | e-mail |
Thanks again to everyone who counselled me on the hosting issue.
4:19 PM | e-mail |
Saturday, February 02, 2002
Kylie Minogue is finally, finally cracking the U.S. During a pit stop at the cafe on University & Waverly today, we heard "Can't Get You Out Of My Head" playing on the radio. On the radio. So of course we instantly broke out singing in the middle of the place. I am SO pleased.
Mark my words: she shall own all of ye bitches. Erin claims she can put me in touch with the people organizing the promotional street-team... I'm all for doing that shit.
5:06 PM | e-mail |
Mark my words: she shall own all of ye bitches. Erin claims she can put me in touch with the people organizing the promotional street-team... I'm all for doing that shit.
5:06 PM | e-mail |
Suitemate's in the shower, so I can't go yet. But I do need to point out that I typoed the name of one of those hosting companies -- it's Neureal, not Neural. So I'm an idiot, and fuck only knows what you were getting through that link. So: now does anyone have any opinions on 'em? I may actually commit sometime in the next day or so...
1:44 PM | e-mail |
1:44 PM | e-mail |
Michele starts celebrating her one-year blogging anniversary. Here's to many more, kid. In the words of a certain whey-faced abomination, you rock my world.
According to my friends, I smell really, really bad right now. So perhaps I'd better go shower. This is what happens when you have to leave the windows closed at night (fuckin' wind) -- I sweat buckets in my sleep.
It was absolutely essential that you knew that.
1:23 PM | e-mail |
According to my friends, I smell really, really bad right now. So perhaps I'd better go shower. This is what happens when you have to leave the windows closed at night (fuckin' wind) -- I sweat buckets in my sleep.
It was absolutely essential that you knew that.
1:23 PM | e-mail |
Happiness -- yesterday was one of the most-visited days in Do You Feel Loved?'s history, and it happened to coincide with one of my most active blogging days in a long time. A shocking percentage of the posts didn't suck, either. So thanks to Jerwin who dragged a shocking number of people here with his enticing link, and thanks to everyone who took the time to read this little site yesterday. It's a nice feeling.
Now I actually haven't been up and active this late in quite a while, so I'd better get to sleep. Got a long day full of nothing to do tomorrow.
3:09 AM | e-mail |
Now I actually haven't been up and active this late in quite a while, so I'd better get to sleep. Got a long day full of nothing to do tomorrow.
3:09 AM | e-mail |
Hosting update: Natalie (thank you, ma'am) threw out the names of Webaxxs and Hostiva/Neureal. Both of which look quite acceptable; Neural's cheaper but it also has one of those damn person-looking-up-at-you graphics on its frontpage. I am suspicious of every site with one of those on it. So: anyone know anything about either one?
2:23 AM | e-mail |
2:23 AM | e-mail |
What a day that was. A collection of various things that need mentioning, some of which had gotten lost in the fray of random bloggage that characterized February 1st:
--Tonight we went to the opera. My notes (ha) on the performance are available in The Mediablog. After the opera we went to Cafe Lalo. And holy shit does it rock my fucking world. If any of you are ever coming to New York for a visit, make me take you there. Oh my God, oh my God. Heath Bar cheesecake. And about four dozen other kinds (no joke). Best. Desserts. Ever.
--This morning when I woke up, sore all over after yoga, I wandered into the bathroom as usual, looked in the mirror, and promptly freaked out. Standing there in my boxers, I looked like I'd been put on the rack -- I was almost a full two inches taller and my chest looked twice as long as usual. I figured my underwear was down around my ass or something, but then it hit me: my posture had been completely corrected. I've always had terrible posture -- it comes of the double-curse of (a.) being tall and (b.) being consistently mocked in grade school for having boy-tits. I'm not kidding; I did have slightly noticeable boobage during my awkward phase (which by all accounts I'm still in), and my efforts to hide it (them) resulted in a miserable slouch. Today I was standing fully erect without any effort, for the first time in years. Who'd've friggin' thunk it.
--Make friends with someone at a record company. For I am currently enjoying the new Chemical Brothers album, Come With Us. Free of charge, yo. Also finally got a replacement copy of my Doves album. Life is plus.
--Today was, on the whole, a really great day. But I did receive one piece of absolutely horrible news, which I cannot post here for reasons of the privacy of the person concerned. But if any of you are friends of R.C., then I hope you've heard by now; and if you haven't, then I'm probably not at liberty to tell you... suffice it to say that it's really extraordinarily upsetting. I'm not letting it get to me, though. As miserably insensitive as that fucking sounds...
1:50 AM | e-mail |
--Tonight we went to the opera. My notes (ha) on the performance are available in The Mediablog. After the opera we went to Cafe Lalo. And holy shit does it rock my fucking world. If any of you are ever coming to New York for a visit, make me take you there. Oh my God, oh my God. Heath Bar cheesecake. And about four dozen other kinds (no joke). Best. Desserts. Ever.
--This morning when I woke up, sore all over after yoga, I wandered into the bathroom as usual, looked in the mirror, and promptly freaked out. Standing there in my boxers, I looked like I'd been put on the rack -- I was almost a full two inches taller and my chest looked twice as long as usual. I figured my underwear was down around my ass or something, but then it hit me: my posture had been completely corrected. I've always had terrible posture -- it comes of the double-curse of (a.) being tall and (b.) being consistently mocked in grade school for having boy-tits. I'm not kidding; I did have slightly noticeable boobage during my awkward phase (which by all accounts I'm still in), and my efforts to hide it (them) resulted in a miserable slouch. Today I was standing fully erect without any effort, for the first time in years. Who'd've friggin' thunk it.
--Make friends with someone at a record company. For I am currently enjoying the new Chemical Brothers album, Come With Us. Free of charge, yo. Also finally got a replacement copy of my Doves album. Life is plus.
--Today was, on the whole, a really great day. But I did receive one piece of absolutely horrible news, which I cannot post here for reasons of the privacy of the person concerned. But if any of you are friends of R.C., then I hope you've heard by now; and if you haven't, then I'm probably not at liberty to tell you... suffice it to say that it's really extraordinarily upsetting. I'm not letting it get to me, though. As miserably insensitive as that fucking sounds...
1:50 AM | e-mail |
Friday, February 01, 2002
All right. You know how occasionally I ask questions of my audience, and nobody ever responds? This time, I really need responses. So please, help out.
My domain name comes up for renewal soon, so I'm thinking it might be time to make the switch from Doteasy -- who've been startlingly decent, considering they're free -- to a professional paid hosting service. I've got a bit of money right now, so I can actually afford it for a while (the first two manifestations of that money have been the AB sponsorship and an upgrade to Blogger Pro; I figure I owe them for the last year of joy, as Feb. 3rd is the one-year anniversary of my use of Blogger).
Now I'm also thinking of installing Movable Type on whatever new server I end up on; FUCK MTV! is rotting right now, and something needs to be done. I'd like to redesign, relaunch, bring in new staff, etc., and Movable Type is frankly the coolest content-management system available to me (and it's pretty easy to use for the other staffers). I don't know anything whatsoever about CGI, but I'm willing to struggle through it and learn by doing.
So of course, my question is: Who should I host with? I investigated Pair.com already, and while everyone says they're fantastic, I'd like to make sure there's not a cheaper (but still reliable) service that I can get custom CGI on -- $30 a month is theoretically pretty doable, but is preferably to be avoided. Do you have any ideas? If so, I need to know.
Thanks in advance.
3:19 PM | e-mail |
My domain name comes up for renewal soon, so I'm thinking it might be time to make the switch from Doteasy -- who've been startlingly decent, considering they're free -- to a professional paid hosting service. I've got a bit of money right now, so I can actually afford it for a while (the first two manifestations of that money have been the AB sponsorship and an upgrade to Blogger Pro; I figure I owe them for the last year of joy, as Feb. 3rd is the one-year anniversary of my use of Blogger).
Now I'm also thinking of installing Movable Type on whatever new server I end up on; FUCK MTV! is rotting right now, and something needs to be done. I'd like to redesign, relaunch, bring in new staff, etc., and Movable Type is frankly the coolest content-management system available to me (and it's pretty easy to use for the other staffers). I don't know anything whatsoever about CGI, but I'm willing to struggle through it and learn by doing.
So of course, my question is: Who should I host with? I investigated Pair.com already, and while everyone says they're fantastic, I'd like to make sure there's not a cheaper (but still reliable) service that I can get custom CGI on -- $30 a month is theoretically pretty doable, but is preferably to be avoided. Do you have any ideas? If so, I need to know.
Thanks in advance.
3:19 PM | e-mail |
I've sponsored an Anti-Bloggie -- the winner of "Most Likely To Eat A Cheese Sandwich" now gets a $10 gift certificate to Denny's. It just seemed right. (If you win and aren't from the U.S., we can talk.)
2:21 PM | e-mail |
2:21 PM | e-mail |
OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD!!! Nick Cave will cover Pulp's "Disco 2000" on the b-side of Pulp's new single!!! AAAAAAHHH!!!! That's my favorite fucking Pulp song. Oh my sweet lord Jesus, this is genius. I was jumping around my room singing that song yesterday...
I really didn't want to scroll my shameless whoring down the page, but this is worth it.
12:52 PM | e-mail |
I really didn't want to scroll my shameless whoring down the page, but this is worth it.
12:52 PM | e-mail |
So nominations are now going on for The Anti-Bloggies, until next Friday. This is officially A Quest: I will have the award for Most Distracting Background Image. Go, nominate me right now. Do it. Nominate me a few times if you want. They don't care.
And here, take this with you.
12:42 PM | e-mail |
And here, take this with you.
12:42 PM | e-mail |
Me @ The Mirror Project: "Fire."
You might also want to check out Kottke's amusing guest gallery -- the first ever.
11:55 AM | e-mail |
You might also want to check out Kottke's amusing guest gallery -- the first ever.
11:55 AM | e-mail |
Wow, I had screwed-up dreams last night.
It started with a dream that I'd come home to Florida for either the summer or winter break -- don't remember which, and it doesn't matter -- and had taken up my old high-school job at Publix, which I hated. Of course I didn't know how to actually get rehired, and I didn't have the uniform, so I was wearing my Old Navy t-shirt and I just walked up to a register and started ringing people up. I think I rang groceries for about an hour in real time. Then there was confusion about whether or not I was actually working there, and the store slowly started to shape-shift into the Old Navy, then to become even larger and turn into some kind of convention center. At that point I was working for either the Super Bowl or the Grammys. I don't know which, but U2 was playing so it had to be one or the other. I remember the whole building was filled with bathrooms, and it had a huge glass ceiling in the center that let lots of light in. While I was in one of the bathrooms U2 started playing "Pride," and I thought it was a tape at first because they weren't scheduled to come on yet. But of course, it actually was them, and they actually were playing, and I missed almost all of their performance because as soon as I got out there they were interrupted by some kind of NFL honcho rattling off a pre-game speech. My family was there, and I'd been watching U2 perform next to them, and my sister was talking to Mary J. Blige, who was sitting in a plastic chair with a violin that was covered in some kind of pink netting which in the dream I recalled seeing in her video. Somehow my sister ended up taking Mary's place on violin, and they were laughing and having a good time.
Then there's a hole in the dream -- something happened, but I don't remember what -- and I was down in the catacombs beneath the convention center with Mary J. Blige and she was fleeing from some kind of unmentionable shadowy evil. I tried to defend her from it -- I think I may have hurt the thing -- but she was depressed and panicky. Some other celebrity was down there with us; I don't remember who. The dream didn't end there, but I've forgotten what came next.
I think I may have woken up there -- I woke up several times last night -- but eventually had another dream in which I was walking back from somewhere with all my friends from here in NYC. The town we were walking through looked just like downtown Sarasota, but all the street names were from New York. I stopped at a comic book store on Bleecker Street and tried to find Dylan Horrocks' ATLAS #2, which I don't think is out yet. Everyone else got tired of waiting and started to go ahead, but I caught up to them. And then the fucking radiator woke me up.
I think it's a sign. I think I need to go out and spend hundreds of dollars on comic books today.
(Who needs Freud's ass for dream interpretation?)
11:43 AM | e-mail |
It started with a dream that I'd come home to Florida for either the summer or winter break -- don't remember which, and it doesn't matter -- and had taken up my old high-school job at Publix, which I hated. Of course I didn't know how to actually get rehired, and I didn't have the uniform, so I was wearing my Old Navy t-shirt and I just walked up to a register and started ringing people up. I think I rang groceries for about an hour in real time. Then there was confusion about whether or not I was actually working there, and the store slowly started to shape-shift into the Old Navy, then to become even larger and turn into some kind of convention center. At that point I was working for either the Super Bowl or the Grammys. I don't know which, but U2 was playing so it had to be one or the other. I remember the whole building was filled with bathrooms, and it had a huge glass ceiling in the center that let lots of light in. While I was in one of the bathrooms U2 started playing "Pride," and I thought it was a tape at first because they weren't scheduled to come on yet. But of course, it actually was them, and they actually were playing, and I missed almost all of their performance because as soon as I got out there they were interrupted by some kind of NFL honcho rattling off a pre-game speech. My family was there, and I'd been watching U2 perform next to them, and my sister was talking to Mary J. Blige, who was sitting in a plastic chair with a violin that was covered in some kind of pink netting which in the dream I recalled seeing in her video. Somehow my sister ended up taking Mary's place on violin, and they were laughing and having a good time.
Then there's a hole in the dream -- something happened, but I don't remember what -- and I was down in the catacombs beneath the convention center with Mary J. Blige and she was fleeing from some kind of unmentionable shadowy evil. I tried to defend her from it -- I think I may have hurt the thing -- but she was depressed and panicky. Some other celebrity was down there with us; I don't remember who. The dream didn't end there, but I've forgotten what came next.
I think I may have woken up there -- I woke up several times last night -- but eventually had another dream in which I was walking back from somewhere with all my friends from here in NYC. The town we were walking through looked just like downtown Sarasota, but all the street names were from New York. I stopped at a comic book store on Bleecker Street and tried to find Dylan Horrocks' ATLAS #2, which I don't think is out yet. Everyone else got tired of waiting and started to go ahead, but I caught up to them. And then the fucking radiator woke me up.
I think it's a sign. I think I need to go out and spend hundreds of dollars on comic books today.
(Who needs Freud's ass for dream interpretation?)
11:43 AM | e-mail |