Monday, October 31, 2005
Today, Salon's Audiofile has a selection of readings from the works of V. Nabokov. The real treat are the bits of interviews with VN and his own readings of his poetry and from Pale Fire and Lolita. The reading from PF is particularly fine--the audience roars with laughter! Laughter!
What a treat!
- There was once a little child who got eaten by a Zombie. It made the Zombie sick and he had to take off work. He didn't want to have to use his sick-days for it, but had to. His stomach really hurt. While he was out, the temp worker the office got to fill in for him found some stuff on his computer that shouldn't be there. The Zombie was fired.
- A hundred years ago, in the dark, a slimey sound was coming up the stairs. "That's funny," you think, "I don't have stairs." The sound suddenly stops and you never hear it again.
- There was a family that seemed normal. Very middle class, very All-American. They lived in a nice house in the suburbs with a well trimmed yard. The father worked in sales and the mother stayed home. The son, the eldest child, was on the football team, but had an academic scholarship to a good state univeristy. The daughter was pretty, popular, but worked hard becuase she had a dream of one day being a judge. They were a close family and always called thier grandparents on weekends and enjoyed going on family outings. The family seemed perfect.
- This once happened in the Great Dismal Swamp. A young man, his heart full of his own sorrow, took a week off work to spend some time alone in the swamp. When he got there he realized that it wasn't so dismal at all. Actually a rather nice place. "What a waste of vacation days," he thought.
- You will have to work at the same job until you die.
Megalodon shooting guard Fin Dophin
Tropic of Food Conference Predictions by Danny Binge & Ricky Fudge
1. Hotel Motel- Hot! Mot! Hot! Mot! Hot! Mot! That’s about all you can say about this unstoppable assemblage of sports persons. Yes, that’s right, we are predicting they will go from worst to first. You heard it hear first.
2. The Wusses – Some critics have accused Coach Alabaster’s team of playing soft. “Yeah, duh!” was his response. Clearly the deepest team in the league, if not the smoothest.
3. Audubon Park- Coach Nahm has his hand full with this lot. Would be ranked higher if they practiced more instead of watching movies about giant prehistoric sharks.
4. Cantwell Gomez and Jordan – Their free flowing offense is hard to stop. And one of them is named Jordan y’all!
5. America’s Next Top Models- Is this team for real? Seriously, I haven’t seen them yet. Joyce plays Ric’s ole Mustang, so they got that going for ‘em.
6. The Nein - Es geht am Ball zum Spieler vorbei. Er führt die deutsche Autobahn hinunter, einzukerben. Wer kann Tal Flattum schützen? Wer kann Robert Biggers berühren? Wie ein schöner Vogel in majestätischem Flug. Detlef Schrempf !
7. Jamiroquai - Wer hat das obene ueber The Nein gescrieben? Das ist doch wirklich Deutsch. Kann Roehrig Deutch? Habe ich aber nicht gewusst!
8. Erie Choir - After finishing second last year to Toby Keith in the Tropic of Country league, it will be tough for the Choir to adjust to their new home in the Food Conference.
9. Megalodon - Coach BOAZ has his hands full with this lot. Would be ranked higher if he didn’t spend his time making movies to be watched by Audubon Park. Lookout for freshmen sensation Hammerhead Shark dude.
10. Karl Rove - Can’t nobody guard Turdblossom’s team. They just spread rumors you’re gay or insane and you get booed off the court and people think you’re a traitor, or at least that you’re gay. Even still, they will be among the bottom half of the league.
11. Clemson – Despite playing against a bunch of out of shape indie rockers, they are once again picked to finish near the bottom of the league.
12. Hackey Sack Crue - Will be another tough rebuilding year for the crue. Word to the wise: fellas, the game is BASKETBALL, not stupiding. The sooner you learn it, the sooner you challenge for a conference crown.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
I write to you because of the ongoing problems with the nomination of Ms. Harriet Miers. She is a fine lady, I'm sure, but she hasn't really worked out, has she? No. She hasn't. Maybe you don't realize yet, and I hate that you have to hear it this way.
Anyway, so when Ms. Miers doesn't get through the Senate, and let's be honest, the only way she will is if she takes a tour with a high school group, why don't you consider nominating me to the Supreme Court. I know what you are thinking: "You're an America Hating Liberal, through and through." Perhaps, but I have my advantages, and I think if you hear me out, you will come around to my point of view.
Let me lay out my argument:
- Even though I don't yet have my law degree, I go to a pretty good law school that no-one would make fun off--except for Duke fans. Also, since I am still a student, I don't really have much of a paper trail for you to worry about. My memos for my writing class are politically neutral and based on imaginary hypotheticals. I have posted some comments on the internet, but those won't come back to bite me. I mean, who can find anything on the internet anyway. Right? I am clean.
- Though I am liberal, I am really suggestible and bow easily to peer pressure. I can see it now, my second day on the court and Scalia and Thomas are hanging around the front stoop of the Court with Roberts. They are wearing their letter jackets and listening to popular music on a boombox. I pass by, nervous, aware that I am a freshman and weak. One of them says, "Wanna beer?" I accept because I want to seem cool. Soon Scalia's hand is on my leg, Thomas has an arm around me and I am saying, "Yeah, I guess there isn't a right to privacy in the the Constitution. Maybe I should have studied more in Constitutional Law."
- I am a spiteful and pissy human. Small minded, bitter and find it pleasurable to wound people's feelings with my wit for no reason other than they are walking slowly or wearing a sweater. I like to take every opportunity I can to crap all over the hopes and dreams of the positive and hopeful. I think calling myself a strict constructionist, and then applying my strictness when it suits me and my agenda, would be a good way to do that.
- I know how to party and can stay up really late
Thanks for considering my plea. The balls are in your court.
TRICKY THE COSMONAUT
THE SOAPBOX, WILMINGTON, NC
This is one of the many CD release shows for the Compulation II that is coming out on Pox World Empire. We, as do all the bands, have a song on there. Our song is called "Ghettos of the Sun." Here are the other shows; go to the ones you can:
friday, 4 november, the werehouse, winston-salem
finks, autopassion, bellafea, hotel motel, torch marauder
saturday, 12 november, local 506, chapel hill
the moaners, finks, erie choir, summer set, fashion design
friday, 18 november, bickett gallery, raleigh
art lord and the self portraits, spader, manband (perhaps), david karsten daniels, citified
saturday, 19 november, red rooster, greenville
art lord and the self portraits, spader, people under the bridge, manband
friday, 2 december, static age (in-store), asheville
manband, citified, spader
And if you know anyone who lives in Wilmington, let them know.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Today I finally got my copy of the new Silver Jews LP, Tanglewood Numbers. I thought about it all last night, riding home on the bus. There was a Chinese woman talking into her lipstick and the air smelled like an away jersey. There was a pretty girl in braids with a big nose reading sheet music.
I thought about it all through Business Associations this morning. I couldn't focus on class--voting trusts and classified stocks. Instead I googled for images of "Moby-Dick," who is 154 today, and tuned out.
After class, I walked up to CD Alley on Franklin with Ben. We stopped at Ken's so he could buy cigarettes and a root beer. CD Alley was closed when we got there, so we sat on a bench and watched the beer delivery guys deliver beer to BW3s. We talked about how some people can play all sorts of songs that people like on acoustic guitars--something I have never been able to accomplish. We talked about gay evangelical Christians and read the police blotter. CD Alley still wasn't open and Ben had to go, so I hung out alone on the bench out front and waited, reading Herzog. People came by, tried the door, cursed, and left. Were they all going to buy the new Silver Jews too?
While I waited, the front door of University Massage opened--something I had never seen--and a woman came out. She looked like a hair-dresser--she was wearing a smock and had two frazzled, red pigtails--painted for an elementary production of the Nutcracker Suite. She looked at me, crossed the street to Hams and a few minutes later returned with a bag of food. I guess you do build up an appetite.
Finally, Sean showed up. He was hungover. His wife, who has been working in Charleston this semester, is on Fall Break, and home. "We had a nice time." He kept grinning. "Actually, I am still drunk." Grinning. "Man, when Ryan gets here, I'm leaving." He kept grinning and I bought the new Silver Jews and walked back to school, taking of my jacket and sweater, because now it was hot.
Here he is in all his glory. What sucks is that they never showed this much of him in the movie. He was always ducking behind a plant just as the camera would cut to him. His dad, the doctor, was always trying to breed him with human women, which all happened to be hot (or at least hot enough for "Hammerhead"), and this never worked. But it was also kind of gross.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Saturday, October 15, 2005
November 10 at the Duke Coffeehouse. A show featuring AP, Pleasant, Second Story Man and Roh Delikat. Come for the fun, stay for the fun of a different sort. SSM are friends of ours from Kentucky and hopefully this will be our way of saying to them, "thank you for being our friend," and not,"Gee, no-one came to this show. SIGH." I've said that too many times in my life. I now renounce speech!
November 27 at Local 506. A show featuring AP, A Northern Chorus and the Burdocks. ANC are on Sonic Unyon with the Nein and it is on AP to be AMBASSADORS OF QUALITY to these Canadian-American brothers (???) from the North.
November SOMETIME at SOMEPLACE. AP will be playing with SOMEONE for one of the Pox World Empire Compulation vol 2 release shows. Word on the street (and by street I mean "Matt Kalb" and word, I mean "word") is that we are playing in Wilmington on 11/5, but that has yet to be confirmed by the powers that be, so don't make plans yet. But if it is true, this will mark the first appearance of AP outside of the Carrboro, Chapel Hill, Durham, Raleigh entertainment metro area EVEN. Beach retreat!
The release of Compulation Vol. 2 is very exciting for us. Our song is called "Ghettos of the Sun" and we are proud of it. It shows off our minds and studio-style. There are also many great bands on it: Hotel-Motel, the Kingsbury Manx, Erie Choir, the Torch Marauder, Work Clothes, all of the rest of the awesome bands. You can't go wrong with it--unless you put it in a blender and give it to a baby to eat. Comps aren't for infants! When will people learn!?!
Internally, we prepare now for practicing and in the winter, finishing our debut, full-length debut LP: "Teen-age Horses." We can't wait to drop be bomb on everyone--or at least gummi bears on the ground. One way or another: AP is droping one type of thing on another. You know we don't discriminate!
As always, please feel free to let us know of any suggestions or comments that you, the customer, might have.
BACK TO THE BOOKS!
Friday, October 14, 2005
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
YET ANOTHER INSTANCE OF THE POROUSNESS OF CERTAIN BORDERS (XXI)
by David Foster Wallace, from Conjunctions
"AS IN THOSE OTHER DREAMS, I'm with somebody I know but don't know how I know them, and this person suddenly points out to me that I'm blind. Or else it's in the presence of this person that I suddenly realize I'm blind. What happens when I realize this is I get sad. It makes me incredibly sad that I'm blind. The person somehow knows how sad I am and warns me that crying will hurt my eyes somehow and make them even worse, but I can't help it--I sit down and start crying really hard. I wake up crying, and crying so hard in bed that I can't really see anything or make anything out or anything. This makes me cry even harder. My girlfriend is concerned and wakes up and asks what's the matter and it's a minute or more before I can even get it together enough to realize that I'm awake and not blind and that I'm crying for no reason and to tell my girlfriend about the dream and get her input on it. All day at work then I'm super conscious of my eyesight and my eyes and how good it is to be able to see colors and people's faces and know just where I am, and of how fragile it all is, the human eye mechanism and the ability to see, how easily it could be lost, how I'm always seeing blind people with their canes and weird-looking faces and always thinking of them as just interesting to spend a couple of seconds looking at and never thinking they had anything to do with me or my eyes, and how it's really just an incredibly lucky coincidence that I can see instead of being one of those blind people I see on the subway. And all day whenever this stuff strikes me I start tearing up again, getting ready to start crying, and only keeping myself from crying because of the cubicles' low partitions and how everybody can see me and would be concerned, and the whole day after the dream is like this, and it's tiring as hell, my girlfriend would say emotionally draining, and I sign out early and go home and I'm so sleepy I can barely keep my eyes open, and when I get home I go right in and crawl into bed at like 4:00 in the afternoon and more or less pass out."
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Monday, October 10, 2005
Thursday, October 06, 2005
There was this one time: My friend Jacob lived across the hall from these two guys we never saw. But we heard them. They listened to Palace and the Kinks really loudly. Maybe they crawled out the window. I don't know. Anyway. I ended up in a Dramatic Literature class with this guy Clint. I wanted to be his friend because he looked cool. I found out that he was one of the guys who lived across the hall from Jacob and I started wearing my =seBADoh= T-shirt alot. Finally, he said, "Hey, like your shirt." And I said, "Yeah." Then we were friends.
He and this guy that was the older brother of one of the guys in my high school that was popular started playing music together. The guy, Will Dearborn, had played "Wish You Were Here" with this guy Warren Byrom--the school metal gutiar god--and it was awesome. Very influential. So Clint and Will together was great. My would record sounds and come over to the dorm and play them. Sometimes, we would go to frat parties and steal things: fuses, cue balls, rugs, beer. Will and Clint recorded in the Episcopalian Church late at night. They had a drumset and a guitar and a hand drum.
Once, we were walking back from the quad to Clint and Bob (the other guy in the dorm)'s apartment. There were lots of us and we were loud and drunk. Kara appeard from a bush. As we cut across the parkng lot were Dalton's was (or would be, I don't remember [even earlier in time, it was Video Villa, the first video store in town. Later Video Villa moved to the very edge. Even later: it started to smell]). In a pool of light, under a street lamp: an open bag of candy corn. What a score. I picked it up and we ate from it. So hungry. When we got back to Clint's, he put on a Mekons record and I saw that the bad was full of ants. "You made me eat ants," Bob said. "We are awesome," Clint said, and fell asleep on the floor as people in their thirties started to show up.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Monday, October 03, 2005
The ladies are everywhere in fitted pink polos, knee socks--
then I remember my Scoliosis and look away. The Bookstore
is closed for remodeling: do they hate America or just G-D.
I know them, the ladies, they have to take showers
and long baths at some point; they cannot wait forever.
Perhaps Heisenberg was right about wearing short to play a show.
Older man (physical sciences) on bike--helmet, saddle bags--
rushing to a panel discussion. I can still smell the earnest,
overlong question that bubbles inside him. His measured
speech: they built a cooling tower on a landfill and it began to sink.
(Physical Sciences): Acid washed jean shorts with pockets
on the inside (not outside): they were a mistake, let's admit it.
My heart is a parking meter: an annoyance and empty
after six. I walk past the practice fields and see a man
and his young son. The son asks, "What are they playing?"
The man responds, "They are playing words." The boy
does not stand a chance. Oh snap! Ladies playing rugby.
I know they will have to bathe at some point.