Burning Tweed

The FUTURE of America, in the guise of Benjamin Bright-Fishbein:

2006-06-12T10:56:00.000-04:00

His interests include "acting, writing inflammatory columns in the midst of a homogenous political culture, and being the guy with the multi-tool at the exact right moment."

The last time I threw up in my mouth was watching Mean Girls...

2006-05-23T12:19:00.000-04:00

...Marty may not be Lohan-esque, but he sure is a looker:

Martin J. Granoff, business executive
Doctor of Humane Letters (L.H.D.)

Granoff, a University trustee emeritus, is a veteran of the textile industry. He is the founder and chairman of Val D’Or, a knitwear manufacturer that merged with Cannon County Knitting Mills Inc. in 1995; vice chairman of Koret of California, which makes women’s brand-name clothing; and chairman, founder, director, and majority owner of National Textiles, a manufacturer of open-end and ring-spun cotton.

During his service as a University trustee, Granoff was a member of the Corporation committees on Advancement, Admission and Financial Aid, Budget and Finance, and Student Life. He also is an emeritus member of the Board of Directors of the Brown University Sports Foundation. Currently, Granoff chairs the University’s Creative Arts Advisory Board and the fundraising committee for the Creative Arts Center, a proposed 30,000-square-foot facility that will include space for interdisciplinary arts research by students and faculty. He also serves as a vice chair of Boldly Brown: Campaign for Academic Enrichment.

The parent of a member of Brown’s Class of 1993, Granoff spearheaded the Brown Hillel campaign to build the Glenn and Darcy Weiner Hillel Center, which was dedicated in February 2004.

Just think of the babies he could have with Ruth.

Consternation

2006-04-18T00:12:00.000-04:00

This worries me to no end.

In The Future, We Will All Be Police Officers...

2006-03-16T19:34:00.000-05:00

A Message Brought To You By Public Safety:

"We recommend programming the Brown DPS emergency number 401-863-4111 into your cellular phone to facilitate prompt reporting. Familiarize yourself with the locations of all the Emergency telephones on campus. During the evening hours, look for the blue light above these telephones. There are approximately 134 Emergency blue-light telephones across campus. All of these phones have emergency buttons that allow you to instantly communicate with a DPS Communications Control Officer.

We will continue to distribute safety awareness information."

But what would Hannah Arendt think?

2006-03-13T01:55:00.000-05:00

MARCH 2006: Anti-Zionist Orthodox Rabbis travelled to the Islamic Republic of Iran where they met with clerics, Imams, and government officials.

In which, International Jewry finds a new rallying call:
Congratulations and Well-Wishes to Hamas from Neturei Karta International, Diaspora

The NOW!England

2006-02-28T10:50:00.000-05:00

In which, art is recreated...

1. There is no heat(ing)
2. There is water on all sides, but it is not an island

Blogging In Public; Or, Can Postcolonial Theory Prevent The Sportification Of Our Quotidian Lives

2006-02-26T18:17:00.000-05:00

"1. Franz Fanon Will Fucking Kill You, Bitch

You wanted to know

what Edward said. you stupid

fuck, ole’ eddy’s dead.

Sometimes on my neigh-

bors lawns I have peed; Edward

Sai-eed has Die-eed."

I have seen the future, and this is it:

2006-02-24T03:04:00.000-05:00

"reflections: i’m building a character. i’m going to call her “me.” reduce me to her, won’t you? i’m making these personality objects into commodities, i’m selling them to you. classify, systematize, process. tuck part of you into me, and you tuck part of me into you. it is no crime. we are consenting adults. come back to bed. let's fuck more.

and (harder) here is the social economy. i (oh god) accrue identities. how many (yes) friends do i have? “am i because my little dog knows me?” am i (yes) because i (yes) know the guy whose picture is his eye? (yes yes yes oh yes)

and is the world shrinking? maybe, but not too small (breathe). balkanization feeds trust, and trust leads to truth ... (archduke ferdinand assassinated, we all fall down, get up stand up, the bust, the bomb, the bling, we’ll all be bones barrelling somewhere for the messiah, the boom, the bang, buck stops nowhere and we’re all back together again, good as new, re-u-nification)"

history must only be understood as where we were when we thought the present was the future. this ("this"('this')) is the present.

And now we have....

2006-02-22T02:06:00.000-05:00

The direction American movies should be moving: Bubble.

It would be nice to link to something intelligent written about this movie, for it is quite complex and worthy of smart criticism (in the least, as Jonathan Rosenbaum often lauds certain films, it refuses to make compromises), but we are unfortunately in an era that rewards film criticism like that of Andrew Sarris: "Then again, I'm even less sure of what the real point of the film actually is."

Perhaps a more eloquent blogger would assume this task.

The Turn Of [A Blog] [A Franchise]; Or, State Repression Can Stop The Blogosphere, But Not Charles Barkley

2006-02-21T13:23:00.000-05:00

"This deal totally shifts the balance of power in the East. Now we can add the Celtics to the list of teams that UConn could beat."

--Charles Barkley

Thizz Or Die: Terrorism Edition

2006-02-14T00:20:00.000-05:00

John Fitzgerald Kennedy/Lee Harvey Oswald/Jack Ruby:
Mac Dre/Fat Tone/Mac Minister

Mr. Asaad laughed and added: "First, I thank the United States that they have given us this weapon of democracy. But there is no way to retreat now. It's not possible for the U.S. and the world to turn its back on an elected democracy."

"she ain't gonna supa dupa hyphy hyphy hyphy hyphy hyphy
and your wifey she don't like me like me like me like me like me like me"

In Case It Were Still Debated...

2006-02-13T11:39:00.000-05:00

In which an expert of the field defines the word: HYPHY

Hope, In Which...

2006-02-13T00:50:00.000-05:00

At this point, it is trite to describe something or someone as having nostalgia for the future. But perhaps a case of hope that is not exactly hopeful, but rather mournful with a bitter sweet feeling of happiness, is exactly what was in mind when the phrase was born.

A British Take On The American Housewife

2006-02-12T17:19:00.000-05:00

In which, the Economist explains America to Americans:

"ONCE upon a time, behind the door of almost every ranch house on almost every suburban street in America, a beautiful creature could be found. She wore a housecoat, sheer stockings and a turban that kept her hairstyle neat when she was dusting. Rubber gloves preserved her flawless hands as she washed the dishes after breakfast. Her husband's homecoming was welcomed every day with new recipes from the Ladies' Home Journal and, after lights out, complaisant sex."

In which, I describe the current condition...

2006-02-12T15:17:00.000-05:00

ihateyouall.com

Professional Sports: Revolutionising Virtually Nothing Except For God

2006-02-03T00:39:00.000-05:00

Despite my intense dislike of Chuckie Klosterman, he highlights some excellent excerpts from the Steelers at this week's media day for Super Bowl XL:

"(1) Troy Polamalu: "I do not have a split personality."

(2) Ike Taylor: "There will be a tomorrow." (Excellent!)

(3) Hines Ward: "Winning the Super Bowl would help me get solidified."

(4) Hines Ward again: "After losing Plaxico Burress, we proved a lot of naysayers wrong." (Take that, naysayers!)

(5) Ben Roethlisberger: Looking very My Morning Jacket-ed, Big Ben mentioned that we are fighting a war in Iraq. As soon as he said this, about 25 guys wrote it down. Roethlisberger also stated that Sunday's Super Bowl would be much bigger than any game he played at Miami of Ohio; about 30 guys wrote that down.

(6) James Farrior: "Go talk to Jerry Porter."

(7) Joey Porter: "The 3-4 is more complicated for opponents than the 4-3, because the 3-4 makes it harder to count the number of guys in the box. In the 4-3, you know there are four down linemen." (True.)

(8) Willie Parker: "Every day of your life, you need to do something to your body. You need to sit in a cold tub of water, or whatever." (I suspect this might have made more sense within proper context. However, Parker also admitted he elected to play football at the University of North Carolina because he loved Michael Jordan, which seems insane.)

(9) Punter Chris Gardocki was asked whether he thinks about having his punts blocked; this is because he's never had a punt blocked (in 221 career games). He says you can't think about having your punts blocked, because that will cause you to have more punts blocked.

(10) Joey Porter, back for more: "Football is the best way to heal any situation." This slightly contradicts the world view of Polamalu, who casually mentioned, "The nature of a man who has a competitive spirit will be to inevitably live a life which involves that man overcoming obstacles. But the sport of football is too physically and emotionally difficult to play simply for money or success. Personally, I have been inspired by God." "

Blog Robbery

2006-02-02T01:52:00.000-05:00

Ghostface, aka Ghostface, on Angie Martinez show:

Ghost wearing "fur-lined Sherlock Holmes hat, with feather."

Angie: "Does PETA ever try to get at you?"

Ghost: "PETA, who's that?"

Angie explains People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals

Ghost:
"I guess animals are whatever-whatever, but I'm just caught up in the moment, you know?"

Embedded in UCS: A Report From The Front

2006-02-01T20:53:00.000-05:00

Just five minutes ago, a bloody battle between Zac Townsend (sp?) and concerned members of the Grouse Community erupted, disturbing an otherwise peaceful night in the UCS DMZ. The battle appears to concern technicalities and disagreements in the UCS constitution. The Grouse Community alleges that certain loud noise producing bureaucrats are attempting to thwart democracy by staging improper and illegal internal elections, when the constitution clearly allows every student to vote. The current Vice President and her minion (ZT) cushiest secretly as candidates for open positions were paraded, like the wounded blind trench soldiers of World War I, in front of the gulag. Questions were softballed as the pressing issues of terrorism, Hamas, illegal labor practices, and some blatant macking violations, occur rampantly throughout the community. I wanted to push the Hamas angle, but candidate after candidate either seemed to pathetic or highly recommended by comrades (Dilsnick, CH, etcetera).

Complete chaos nearly broke out as ZT claimed that he would humor the Grouse complaint, and consider that perhaps other parties besides the Fascist Arms (as the ZT/Sarah Saxton Frump front is known locally) should be allowed to stand and demand that all in the land receive an email that will probably be ignored tell them that they can indeed vote for a position that could care less about. The FA leader has returned, informing us of the break coming to a quick conclusion, so I withdraw to the high ground, grasp my pen, flask, and bible, and hope for freedom, and, perhaps if we are lucky, a safe ending.

In the winter of 2006...

2006-01-30T04:16:00.000-05:00

Perhaps there is no warmth out there, but there is terror, pure abject terror. What about a Nigerian civil war, or an oil embargo from Iran? Lap it up folks, cause this is what the internet (and the future) has to offer: pure unadulterated speculation.

Who the fuck cares what is actually happening in those foreign countries, long as that black slicky stuff keeps pumping? Too many sad and disgusting metaphors must have been wasted on the American role in the international energy economy (drugs, heroin, needles, pimps, whores, drilling, fucking, think, JOSHUA, think!!!), so I'll decline to participate.

The journey may end with a response email, something to knock lose some teeth, a parting shot from the blogosphere to that almost maybe someone. But not that special.

Maybe Salvation Is On Wax

2006-01-30T03:12:00.000-05:00

My thighs cool, my sneer thickens, and the third LP of the night comforts me from nearby. Everything out here in the blogosphere feels oh, oh so cold (natch, cf. the Second Law of Thermodynamics, Cannibal Ox); but Robbie Robertson's warm voice floats down, and...

"the night they drove old dixie down, and the bells were ringing, and the people were singing..."

Technofascists forced me to use e-reserves, not sure if they can win tonight; failed to find that great letter to that shitbag the Weekly Dig, declaring that hipsters believe "all puppies are faggots;" I might retreat to a real world establishment for nourishment soon, though not without one last push through cyberspace, looking for that special someone (after Apocalypto, this time of my life will be referred to as The Trials, a Creek With Many Bends, or, the Fuzzy Wax).

Accounting On All Accounts

2006-01-30T00:57:00.000-05:00

Mr. Bowie said that "we believe in you," but I am beginning to think he may have been lying, or on drugs. When I signed a pact today to become an accountant and renounced my previous allegiance to Sudoku, I saw a vision that told me my only desires are simple: to work for Ford or GM. The fifth and eighth largest companies in the world cannot be wrong, right? Or has Mr. Bowie's fake vote of confidence that my future may be a bit too bright there, and I should scale back such hopes.

I mean, when you receive such jarring emails, can you even hope to make it to 5 AM in one piece, disease free, and ready to eat a meal? When did emails have the right to become jarring, because I for one don't really think a wireless Internet connection can lead to happiness; but it is my project for the night, and I will see it through until I find some salvation out there, or at least my laptop stops heating up my thighs.

And, like, I speak French too

2006-01-29T01:47:00.000-05:00

"Does anyone here speak French?" "I speak French." "Je ne se pas." "I know, it means I don't know, I am not saying I don't know, it means I don't know."

Bernard Henri-Levy would not approve; not American enough.

Troy Hudson To Join Dipset?

2006-01-08T11:08:00.000-05:00

"I'm not the best rapper in the NBA. Elton Brand is better than me. Stephen Jackson is better than me. Troy Hudson is nice. Troy Hudson has fire."

--Ron Artest

Hey There Fuck Face! (Prorated For 2006)

2006-01-05T16:23:00.000-05:00

When introducing his white Escalade on MTV, Lil Wayne defended its lack of rims: "I don't do the rims, or the TVs, none of the stuff on the inside of the car. Cause I'm a humble guy, you know, and I like to say, 'I'm grown up.' You know, the saying [for 2006] is 'I'm so grown up.'"

My mother overheard one of my phone conversations and deduced/decided that my resolutions are the double P's: "Pretention and Promiscuity." Of course, she wants to improve her knowledge of geography.

G-Unit also known as George-Unit? More to come.

And finally:
"I'm so materialistic
So well connected
Just ask about it
So well respected."
--Young Jeezy

A Word From Walter Scott's Celebrity Parade

2005-12-26T16:06:00.000-05:00

"Q: Your item on rapper Cam'ron's carjacking in October didn't say how he is recovering from his gunshot wounds. How about an update?-- Alisha T., Yonkers, NY.

A: Cam'ron, 29, had neurosurgery to repair nerve damage in one arm and feels well enough to complete work on a movie and CD titled Killa Season, both due in February. But he says he's troubled that his attackers haven't been arrested, since the police have a cell phone, fingerprints and the car used in the crimes. "I'm conducting my own investigation," he tells us."

So then he said...

2005-12-16T13:49:00.000-05:00

"Piensa en esto: cuando te regalan un reloj te regalan un pequeño infierno florido, una cadena de rosas, un calabozo de aire. No te dan solamente un reloj, que los cumplas muy felices, y esperamos que te dure porque es de buena marca, suizo con ancora de rubíes; no te regalan solamente ese menudo picapedrero que te ataras a la muñeca y pasearas contigo. Te regalan -no lo saben, lo terrible es que no lo saben-, te regalan un nuevo pedazo fragil y precario de tí mismo, algo que es tuyo, pero no es tu cuerpo, que hay que atar a tu cuerpo con su correa como un bracito desesperado colgandose de tu muñeca. Te regalan la necesidad de darle cuerda para que siga siendo un reloj; te regalan la obsesión de a atender a la hora exacta en las vitrinas de las joyerías, en el anuncio por la radio, en el servicio telefónico. Te regalan el miedo de perderlo, de que te lo roben, de que se caiga al suelo y se rompa. Te regalan su marca, y la seguridad de que es una marca mejor que las otras, te regalan la tendencia a comparar tu reloj con los demas relojes. No te regalan un reloj, vos sos el regalado, a tí te ofrecen para el cumpleaños del reloj."

-Julio Cortázar

"Baby girl...

2005-12-11T10:55:00.000-05:00

I'm the man from the big VA/Won't you come play round my way/And listen to what I gotta say/Timbaland/Don't you know I am the man/Rock shows here to-to Japan/Have people shak-shakin my hand/Baby girl, better known as Aaliyah/Give me hives, corns, and high fevers/Make the playa haters believe/Don'tcha know what/Gotta tell somebody/Cause...

Cause I really need somebody
Tell me you're that somebody"

Nos llaman campesinos...

2005-11-14T11:56:00.000-05:00

¿How do you spell W.I.N.E. (thug)?

Hobbies? Who needs fucking hobbies?

2005-11-05T17:01:00.001-05:00

"As a prototypical bourgeois, Odysseus is smart enough to have a hobby. It consists in a resumption of the craft work from which, within the framework of differentiated property relations, he has long since been exempted. He enjoys this occupation, as his freedom to perform superflous tasks confirms his power over those who have to do such work in order to live."

F.O.P; also known as F.H.F.

2005-11-02T15:11:00.000-05:00

"alice's ex boyfriend is here. hes like some swedish indie fop. so i smoked him out silly and he passed out while alice and i had high sex."

Siesta

2005-10-25T16:40:00.000-04:00

I have been traveling in Argentina (or rather just being stationary in Buenos Aires) for the past week. I have seen two movies while here, the first a French film entitled Exils that was fantastic, the best use of sound and music I have witnessed in a while. The other, El Aura (an incredible name, especially if pronounced correctly with the slurry tongue of an old porteño ticket hacker), made me fall asleep, though it did have a great shot where the camera follows the aim of a hunters gun who is looking for a deer that just ran past, then accidently shots another hunter as soon as he enters the crosshairs. Great fun.

"I wish Doug Liman had been able to deliver a hard R. The shootouts need some blood and, as many have pointed out, there needs to be some fucking. Raucous fucking. But then again, Super Size Me made me hungry for a Big Mac so maybe Mr. and Mrs. Smith isn't What's Wrong with America. Maybe I am." Just read that on BSM's old movie blog and thought it quite quotable. Definitely agreed that Denby misread Mr. and Mrs. Smith, casting it as something typical as opposed to what it was, which was a rare action flick that was a bit too stylized and perfect, but completely aware of its too-perfectness. However, I liked the lack of blood and gore, it contributed to that too perfect style that I loved. Add blood and gore and it begins to look a whole lot more like Domino.

And, finally, just wanted to convey my recent fascination with the phrase "You´re ruining everything."

Prophetic/MTVJams/Instability

2005-10-14T11:13:00.000-04:00

Many hours of Paul Wall and Mike Jones and Swishahouse are good for you.

Hellhole; Or, the Building of Lego Models of Firebombed Cities: A Drama in One Part

2005-10-01T12:59:00.000-04:00

Setting: Mother, Daughter next to a gigantic Lego model of City X, post extreme firebombing; there is a seated audience on stage, watching the proceedings.

Daughter: "Why are the barbie dolls wearing camouflage, mommy?"
(Mother's mouth opens; lights dim; a speaker descends from the ceiling, hanging; the speaker speaks)
Speaker: "Democracy, little girl; choice/choose/the freedom of choosing. Choose clothing. Choose cammo."
(Plastic pink flamingos rain from the dark ceiling; lights are brought up; The stage audience erupts in applause; one member sits silently.)
The hesitant one: "It won't be so funny, when you're STUCK ON MY COCK."

Close Curtain

El Cine

2005-08-08T15:08:00.000-04:00

I saw Broken Flowers and it was not very good. But I also saw Batman, which was very good. My top three movies of the summer:

1) Batman
2) Mr. and Mrs. Smith
3) To Catch a Thief

I also saw Bad Boys II on VHS and was very impressed; I couldn't believe they could literally make a two and a half hour music video with Martin Lawrence constantly breaking down mentally, all while different ethnic groups (strictly divided) battle out a huge drug war that is eventually revealed to be funding/run by that commie rat Castro.

Die Internet

2005-07-27T16:10:00.000-04:00

Without the internet at home, I am forced to steal internet time from others. Most times, that other is Harvard University. I also use their toilets, which, as a small piece of yellow paper that I later tore down told me, are not for use by non-Harvard ID holders (aka, outsiders). But as I sit and use their computers in Bolyston Hall, I listen to a professor talk to his summer class about economics (though I have never seen him nor the classroom; apparently, they either don't close the door or have some sort of futuristic space that combines a hallway and classroom). Today, I was not listening closely (as always) and caught him saying "To buy, to buy, to buy.... to buy." (At which point I zoned out again.)

Me and You...

2005-07-17T12:56:00.000-04:00

I saw that movie "Me and You and Everyone We Know" last night. It was not good at all, except for a badass pair of brothers. It needed to be shorter and have an ounce of creativity. Much better was "To Catch a Thief" which I saw last weekend. It was short and funny. Hopefully I will not be tricked into seeing anymore new movies; because in general, unless it is "Mr. and Mrs. Smith," they are terrible. Also just finished the new Harry Potter. Pretty good, less complicated than all previous installments; she attempted to focus much more on their personal lives and romantic relationships. If I want romance, I'll read "The English Patient" (which, coincidentally, I am also about to finish). The seventh book will be a challenge to write, though she set up a neat quest surrounding the destruction of souls. After finishing all the four books in my backpack within a week of each other, I need a new quartet. Fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and wildcard. I might tackle Ulysses for the fiction, and "The Battlefield Where the Moonlight Says I Love You" for poetry. And as Jimmy Cliff loves to say, "Forgive them Lord, for they know not what they have done." Which may be absolutely nothing.

Toenails

2005-05-23T19:18:00.000-04:00

About two weeks ago I decided that Astral Weeks was my favorite album of all time, for really no reason. I was planning on making a long post about how great it is and why I like it so much, but then I got lazy, or drunk, or was studying, and more or less forgot about the whole thing. So just now I decided I should finally write that post, but realized that I had not listened to the album since I officially marked it in highest regard. And now I think that making a decision that I believed would be so incredibly momentous to my life's passing as deciding my favorite album threw something off, made listening to the album an afterthought, or irrelevant to my life.

I am not sure why that happened, but it seems that placing one album-- which, for however infinite and unending it seems while it plays, always ends and renders itself just an inert piece of plastic-- in such a rarefied place, I doomed myself to two possible fates: 1) I could continue to listen to it at all times, never forgetting how infinite and great it is or 2) I could stop at one point, leaving its perfection to my memory. Because repeated listening for eternity was impossible, I de facto chose the latter, only to discover that it was easier to leave it as a perfect memory than to sacrifice its pristine state of immobility and stagnation in memory for the everchanging (and possibly still perfect) reality of listening. Over the weeks, the memory has faded, leaving me with only a dim memory of the album that I had defined as being completely relevant to my life; as the memory faded, so did the relevance, eventually morphing into the current complete irrelevance. It is somewhat like the most perfect diamond of all time: it must exist (if only in comparison to all other diamonds) and is therefore completely "relevant" to humanity, but at the same time utterly irrelevant, because no one actually needs to see, or touch, or hold it in order to ensure its existence, which is, in reality, the only true aspect of the diamond that ensures its relevance. A deadly cycle.

So I guess I am changing my mind, or at least freeing Van Morrison from the weight of having created my defining document. Maybe I will listen to it again sometime soon.

Aries

2005-04-30T12:06:00.000-04:00

"Now is the time to call your old drug dealer. Bury the hatchet. Buy some foil and do some hot knives over the stove. Then kill him."

Benedict XVI

2005-04-19T21:35:00.000-04:00

The new Pope is lame. Didn't Rumsfeld say fuck old Europe? And now the Pope is from old Europe. Fuck that shit. And he's ugly. Lame.

Busting Science

2005-04-11T09:55:00.000-04:00

Has anyone ever measured a perfect cup of water? Chances are, each measure of a cup of water is slightly over or under, but some law of averages makes me think that someone, somewhere, sometime, perfectly measured a cup of water.

But then, what is a cup of water, only a measure of volume, not mass. There is no proscribed number of H2O molecules in a cup of water, only an imaginary line drawn with some random thickness at some predetermined number of inches above the bottom of a cylindrical holder of a certain radius indicating how high a cup of water is in that specific tool.

But then, when was that decided? Against which cup are all other cup measures created? Arbitrary in its birth, the cup has wavered roughly around some "one cup" mark for centuries, convincing us that we are perfectly measuring out our cooking projects and science experiments.

Instead, only some random amount that is always failing to be perfectly one cup, a size always failing to replicate itself, bakers and scientists everywhere ultimately failing to reproduce the simplest part of a project each new time it is written: MEASURE ONE CUP WATER.

"What Makes You Think You Are So Special..."

2005-03-24T19:18:00.000-05:00

I have decided to write about Everclear, because nobody else is writing about Everclear. Which makes sense, because Everclear was a two bit, 90s whiny Pearl Jam rip off, with a really obnoxious frontman, Art Alexakis. And, in truth, Everclear pretty much sucks. But today I listened to So Much For The Afterglow for the first time in about a year, and realized that Art Alexakis sings angst almost perfectly.

Common wisdom dictates that angst is obviously dead, something no respectable artist touches, unless it is in a "voice" or some other pretentious excuse for a literary technique. And maybe that is because angst was perfect when it was born, with A Catcher In The Rye. I'm not sure if that is accurate to call Catcher the first angsty "art", but it seems reasonable that (one of) the first appearance(s) of true teen angst was too perfect to be topped, even drove its own author to seclusion. So, it surprised me today when I found Alexakis spoke directly to me at 15 (though I already actually knew that, this was one of my favorite records for years); but listening to it again, I found some of the most perfect angst poetry to grace the late nineties:

"i think it's getting better for the two of us/yes i think it's getting better/almost everyday/i could give a damn for what those people say"

"i ran away and went looking for you/back to culver city and the old neighborhood/need to know if you were really gone/need to know if you were gone for good/i ran through the projects at night/hide in the dark from my friends in the light/hide from my brother-in-law/hide from the things he'd say"

"we never talk about the future/we never talk about the past anymore/we never ask ourselves the questions/to the answers that nobody/even wants to know/i guess the honeymoon is over/so much for the afterglow"

"i guess i'm doing ok/i moved in with the strangest guy/can you actually believe/he actually thinks/that i am really alive"

(teenagers don't use capital letters)

Perhaps I am only trying to justify listening to such pap, but he really nails the angst. Instead of annoying emo, the singer is not at all concerned with his inner troubles and emotions, which are exactly the object of emo. While Alexakis definitely has whiny emo moments ("i feel so violent inside"), he acts more as if he thinks the world is crumbling around him, while he is the only "normal" one. His angst is classically teen: no one understands him, because everyone else is fucked up, and he is the only sane boy in the world. He is surprised when he meets someone who believes that "he is really alive;" he is surprised to meet somebody else that not only "gets" him, but is also perhaps the only other "sane" person around. The style also mimics angst, and this may be the key to understanding why angst has truly lost favor.

To truly be angsty, a writer or artist must have the stylistic markers of teendom: occasional random lines that "sound good" ("so much for the afterglow"), simple ambivalence towards own feelings ("i guess i'm ok"), poor metaphor ("dad he gave me a name/and he walked away"), repetition to "mix things up" but of boring phrases/words ("need to know," "hide"). Therefore, any artist that uses angst goes one of four routes: 1) sucks entirely, fudging both the "true" form and content of angst (can't think of any examples), 2) taps into his inner feelings but puts it in a more serious setting (Igby Goes Down), 3) conveys angst in style but not in content (no examples, too pathetic for people to achieve (though Garden State comes to mind)), 4) a perfect mix of angsty style and content (Everclear). At best, you are remembered for being a 16-year-old's favorite band whom he is not ashamed of ten years later. This seems to explain why angst is such a taboo topic today.

So never forget, "they cannot hurt you unless you let them"

LONG LIVE EVERCLEAR!!!

Late Night Debates

2005-03-22T10:28:00.000-05:00

Having an interesting email debate with two friends about selling out and authenticity. Started with this addendum to a Dave Eggers interview (scroll down). The responses are not completely coherent but some interesting points:

my response: "this is actually what made me hate him in the first place, a friend of mine showed me it maybe a year ago? he's just a little bitch unhappy that his 20 year old self would criticize his now self. to be honest, i think most people could give a shit about selling out in the way he describes; people actually care about selling out that diminishes what was appealing before. i don't think people are really as shallow to only like something because it is underground, so that when that thing gets big they spite it. and if they do, its ridiculous and he should not even address the question.

the real question is, why does it matter that you give your money away, especially when you admit you did shit for it? though im sure those charities do all kinds of nice work, is it not a pockmark on you to accept money for nothing-- why not demand more of others, and yourself.

i don't think anybody called out the flaming lips for being on 90201-- in fact, it was more like, wow that's weird. if anything, i think the flaming lips are rarely called out for "Selling out" even if they do have a big record deal and sell shit to car commercials. Why don't people actually care? because they have the same appeal as before-- the music is as catchy, as goofy, as bouncy and as fun.

i call bullshit on him because in reality he does care about selling out-- by talking about it with such scorn, he's only trying to bolster himself from the fact that maybe deep down he is disappointed about what he's done since buying that first rem ep or reading the first issues of spin

and also, about zaireeka, that dumb flaming lips four album experiment, why is that the opposite of selling out? what is so positive about an obscure experiment that only really confounds people that it makes you "authentic" " --jhb

response two: "i'm not going to be able to say much about this now, since I really ought to be writing a paper for tomorrow, but if kids are going to respond to this via email, then that'd be pretty rad, and so thats why I included Josh as a recipient.
basically, I think perhaps by calling it a "rant" he means to excuse the sort of incoherence that we also saw practiced by D'nish D'souza; that is he attempts to attack something without giving a clear and complete definition of what that something is (in this case selling out, or in D'souza's case "colonailism/empire"). This, and how he condescendingly addresses the reader, make it awfully easy for him to rebut was he seems to take as nothing more than a side-effect of teenage angst. But I guess its that sort of pretensiousness that wins fans these days who then rent houses on planet street.
anyways, I believe people sell-out; I believe it isn't justified. I'd call Dave Eggers a sell-out, but I don't know his career well enough, and the fact that I don't almost leads me to think that he didn't, since he didn't do anything that was dynamic or badass enough to catch my attention (not at all saying that he necesarily would have), he probably wasnt up to anything dynamic or badass enough taht he would have to compromise to start making tons of money and to become a celeberty.

how do you spell celebrity?"

response three: "first, I'll add to a point you (josh) made when you questioned eggers' argument that zaireeka was somehow 'authentic' , and something to be seen in contrast to 'selling out'. Eggers' brought up zaireeka to his friend after the "dinnerparty" and eventually convinced her that the Flaming Lips were "more than just that band on 90210". He also references the men in bunny suits dropping balloons from the ceiling upon the band's playing their hit song. Ummm, yeah, I am in line with your saying, josh, that eggers confuses 'quirkiness' with 'authenticity'; or, in a another sense, it is like he's making an argument that, though the The Flaming Lips are a "successful" gold-record band on a major label who appear on a lot of magazine covers, they used to do really weird-ass shit, and they still do weird-ass shit, so eggers' CAN call their new album "ravishing" and admit that he's been listening to it constantly, and still feel good about himself. This idea of weirdness somehow serving to elevate the lips' above 'sellout' status is bullshit; i don't know the flaming lips, but who's to say that all the 'weirdness' isn't just some huge marketing ploy? Might they need to hire men in bunny suits to drop balloons from the ceiling because the songs can't stand by themselves? This relates to eggers; his prose is "unconventional", but that doesn't necessarily make it good. I read his pulitzer prize finalist memoir A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius when it came out, i think, around fresh or soph year of high school, and was pretty frickin impressed at the time... now, though, looking back on it, i don't know how i would react to that book... don't even know where it is
This specific argument of eggers, i think, is part of a larger theme... Eggers runs away from giving an explanation of what "selling out" really means... he speaks of a "computer chip" that is implanted in the brains of adolescents that dictates the laws of "selling out", but he never really addresses what i think are the rational manifestations of the term. There are a thousand interpretations of "selling out" but some of them must include the idea of an artist inevitably losing his capacity for creating organic, unchecked, "real" art at the hands of his corporate distributor, or, (chuckle chuckle) those in control of the means of production. An artist is bound to a contract, he is forced to smile in front of flashing bulbs and be cordial with men in suits. He becomes a slave to corporate expectations, loses creative conrol, and, in the extreme, is convinced into creating and performing art that acts to sustain his oppressors' economic position at the expense of the consuming masses. Also, there is the prospect of the artist becoming just as much of a capitalist as his bosses... which might be scary to some, but whose to say that he wasn't that much of a capitalist to begin with?
I don't know enough about the Lips and Eggers to make an argument about where they land on the spectrum of 'selling out', but you can, as j pointed out, clearly see how frickin paranoid about being seen as a 'sellout' eggers is... So yeah, i think that to a large extent this "addendum" might be seen as eggers attempt to rationalize his having gone through the 'sellout' circuit without puking; indeed, as he says, he is determined to CONTINUE "saying yes", now more than ever.
That fact taht eggers gives a lot of his money away does not make him any less of a sellout because, at least in my opinion, it is not a matter of what you do with the $$, but the manner in which you earned it... and Eggers wrote for ESPN

What if, though, you're motivated not by $$$ but the urge to distribute your message as many people as possible? Eggers brings up this notion of "filtering" because there's too much media, too much music, too much information. Right. Still, some people don't even get to filter, cuz there's no time... and they don't have access to $$ or other means of receiving this massive amount of art-- so what do they do? Aren't they just reduced (music-wise) to the radio? In this vein, if your message is strong enough, making minor concessions so as to get your stuff out to the ears of those who don't have time to be 'critics' might be a noble pursuit, right?"

Not sure if anyone waded through that shit, but Dave Eggers certainly pushes a lot of buttons.

A Violent Evening Arrives....

2005-03-17T21:34:00.000-05:00

Steroids

2005-03-13T11:03:00.000-05:00

With the congressional hearings on steroids and Canseco's book finally blasting out the last secrets about steroids, many sports writers, specifically those from ESPN.com, seem to believe as if this has signaled the end of the "Steroids Era." Buster Olney dates the era from 1988 to 2004, Skip Bayless estimates it as from 1988 to 2002, and Gammons declares that "Canseco has opened up the subculture of the late 1980s and '90s." Why do these writers believe that steroids will die along with Juiced, Bonds' huge head, and fiery questioning from Henry Waxman and John McCain?
In the Olympics, with a rigorous testing schedule, athletes continue to get caught, prompting me to assume there are many who get through. Has not the common wisdom on steroids been that drug makers are always one step ahead of the testers? I do not believe that these writers think players will all of a sudden be scared away from steroids, either by testing or shame--instead, it seems as these writers have embraced the simple facet of mass media: with enough exposure, what is written as truth becomes accepted as such. If they write that the "Steroids Era" is over, it will be accepted as over by fans, journalists, owners, and players alike, irrelevant of whether new drugs are being used.
Furthermore, one of the key quotations about the entire situation has been Hank Aaron declaring that, "I know that you can't put something in your body to make you hit a fastball, changeup or curveball." While it seems far fetched to believe that new steroids will morph to improve cognition, but what if they adapt and lose the bad side effects, keep the athlete slimmer, and improve his speed? While maybe the traditional "Steroids Era" would be over, it would only be a glossing over of new substances altering performance.

A First Thought

2005-03-09T13:37:00.000-05:00

As was once said, "I opine."