Sunday, January 30, 2005

No, Man. You're Not Right, Man.

I have had things to post about. It's not that the great well of bitching and mindless, insignificant horse shit has dried up, I've just been crushed under the weight of work and school. I decided not to see a show I've been dying to see since December to sleep and do homework, so typing has become a bit a vermin for me. Having blogger (you dirty fuck lard) decide that the post I did type was not worth saving imporved my mood oh so much too.

Blogger is a lot like methadone, it's not what you really want, you're always left unsatisfied, things go invariably wrong and nothing happens, but it's what's available and you really don't have any other options that you can afford.

There is nothing more depressing than being too tired to masturbate.


Thursday, January 27, 2005

Comfortably Numb

That reminds me, I got a Pink Floyd 7" at Best Buy yesterday. It was a promo with one six minute version of "Another Brick in the Wall Part II" over two sides, which is fine (scratchy, scratchy) but the irony of having 7"'s for people to buy and no record players for sale makes my life.

We usually get a lot of snow up in my end of the world. It's fairly standard pattern, snow falls at regular one-to-two inch increments and by this time we have a big pile of snow everywhere. This year, nature held off and then dumped a fuck load on us, as though to make up for the lost time. It's like when your company gives you a bunch of money at once because they had forgotten to give you the full amount of your check, except there was nothing to be happy about.

What was strange about this blizzard in particular, was that we had gone from minus-thirty wind chills to thirty-five degree highs. So, now that all of our awesome snow has melted away and we are left with big pies of ice and ass-snow, our blinding cold has returned.

This has brought the return of hats and gloves to the city. On old ladies, small children, grumpy college students, and even happy college students. These wily critters are easy to spot left in a variety of locations: buses, counters, benches, lecture halls, libraries, bathroom floors, and the one girl's room.

I'm down with the great fashion unifiers of Minnesota, but there's one thing I will never understand about hats: why the fuck would you wear a god damn, "hockey hat?"

Hockey hats, to ensure we're talking about the same abomination, here, are hats that cover most of your head, but leave the lower half of your ears exposed. Given that description, I repeat: what the fuck? Why, when flesh freezes so fast at minus-ten would you not want to cover your enitre ear? Is freezing fashionable?


Tuesday, January 25, 2005

No Light at the End

Disclaimer: I'm going to use a lot of general music genres in this post. I know that genres are never very accurate and we're better off just using comparative bands, but generalizations will help cover the wide array of bands I'm thinking in the most concise way. Hopefully you'll generate similar sounds in your head to the one's I have in mine and this crazy communication thing will work out. Thank you.
I've had to explain to a lot of people lately about my love of evil music. I use the term, "evil," in a non-literal sense because most people conjure up the right type of music when I say, "evil," (i.e. most people associate Metal, Industrial, and Noise with evil).

The discussion has been repeated more frequently of late because I know a lot of people who like the light, poppy (for lack of a better term), more... Stereotypical indie-rock music. Which isn't to say those bands are particular bad, but I get a bit miffed when, "alternative," means those types of bands only. That and I don't like a lot of the bands you'll hear on your average Adult Album Alternative (what a horse shit description) station, but stay with me on this.

This trail of endless discussion on what quantifies, "indie," leads me to my main point: metal and industrial are indie genres too, so I can still listen to heavy drop chords, distortion, minor synth, heavy beats, creepy samples, and screamed vocals and still be listening to, "indie," music.

I feel that indie/alternative stations seem to get smashed into a narrow band of what is acceptable to play; there's a lack of breadth. Like most rules, I don't know how it got that way. I don't know why it's okay to play Oukast, but Tool is a no-no because they're too popular. I don't comprehend why you can't play Front Line Assembly, but Nine Inch Nails is okay (even NIN isn't on a lot of the so-called indie stations). Ragga can exist on the station as Bright Eyes in harmony.

Joe Strummer put it best, "Tunnel vision is the enemy of all music."

You probably weren't wondering, but I'll tell you anyway:

I like evil music for a lot of reasons, but, in general, I tend to like heavier, darker sounds; be it an orchestral piece or a folk singer. Don't get me wrong, I adore slow-core too, but overall, I'm more just attracted to the gloomy-vibe stuff.

It isn't an absolute, of course. Mouse on Mars always makes me happy and want to dance, Dosh's latest album is a very happy album and I loved it.

Really, it's all a taste thing; I can't explain it anymore than I can explain why I like chicken and pineapple pizza.


Thursday, January 20, 2005

Shock That Shit, Buy That Shit, Sattelite That Shit

Shock jocks have always struck me as bizzare. In general, radio personalities that don't play music strike me as odd and usually ridiculous if not outright offensive.

This is probably a low point even compared to the usual type of dousche-itude many a listner is subjected too.

I guess what I really don't understand is the consistent popularity of these people. No matter where you go in this fine country of ours, you will find some asshole spouting the idiotic drivel possible for hours on end.
///Then again, with the advent of Howard Stern to the land of sattelite, there's nowhere in the world we can go to escape shock jocks.///
Maybe it's me, but this makes no fucking sense. Why the hell would millions of people want to hear foul-mouthed frontal lobotomy victims everyday? Is there a jerk-off-chic I was just unaware of? I mean: wouldn't the shock value wear off eventually? How many porn-stars can you really have stripping over the air, and why would it matter? Moreover, what is so funny about someone crank calling a call center in India and then having nothing funnier to do with it except curse them out? Crank calls can be funny, but that wasn't even trying.

Call me old-fashioned, but is it so wrong to ask that drive-time DJ's shut the fuck up and play the god damn music? Give me some traffic and some news and I'll be a-okay. Albeit, I'm sort of biased here, since that's what I do, but it makes more sense to me than listening to toilet sound effects and two people laughing at eachother.


Wednesday, January 19, 2005

Side Note From the Management

Note: I feel kind of self-concious about the length of my posts. Every so often they are long, but mostly they're about a screen's worth of reading. It makes me feel like I'm not writing enough, but at the same time I feel like I've covered the topic as thoroughly as I wanted too so whatever. I blame other people for bitching too much.


It's Good in Pancakes When You're Starving in the Woods

I get a lot of spam. Not in the disgusting, canned-food way, but in the shitty, fill my inbox kind of way. It's not that I've done anything, really, it's just the email I have from Radio K is publicly posted, it’s linked to my normal email, and, thus, these things are to be expected.

I’m not trying to bitch, here, it’s just that the spam seems to come and go in waves. It's like there's a trend among spammers and it rotates. So for most of the summer (when I first got the job), I got a lot of porn and penis size messages. Later, as fall approached, prescription drugs were all the rage. Everyday, I had at least twelve offers to get me cheap painkillers or their equivalents. During the fall/early winter, I kept getting offers for Rolexes (real and replica!). Lately, what's hot in the spam world appears to be stuff about my cum dribbling out and surprising my girlfriend with my huge cumshot.

I'm forecasting a shift towards credit-card fraud soon.

Now, their was always a little of each mixed in at any given point (except for the Rolexes and the cum-dribbling, that's just singular), I've always had credit card fraud offers and prescription pills flying in from, "Canada," to my inbox, but there is stretches of dominance of one slick deal over the other.

I guess I just don't understand the cycle. Is there a plan to it? Does some lawsuit change what's popular? How much thought goes into these things?

Also, random words strung together at the bottom of spam messages make hi-larious beat poetry-esque ramblings. I'm thinking about recording someone reading them and messing around with them.


Tuesday, January 18, 2005

Spitting and Shaking

Meeting people is always weird for me. Oh, I can be conversational and get along fine, but half the time I wonder if either of us will really give a shit in about two minutes. Sometimes it works, but often it's just a draining experience where I end up questioning my ability to communicate effectively, which isn't to say I expect to be everyone's new best friend, but, rather, that I anticipate a permanent awkwardness.

To elaborate further: I always seem to remember faces, names, and sometimes I'll remember them together. I'll see people I had class with two years ago who I haven't spoken to since that I was class-buddies with. Whenever it happens, I'm never sure if I should say something; I usually just keep going unless they say something.

The other day the above incident happened, but (as I am constantly over-analyzing everything I do) I decided to stop being foolish and say something. Now, I hadn't had class with this dude in about a good year, but I said, "hey," and proceeded to attempt a brief re-connect.

Result: massive weird vibes and general uncomfortable-ness.

Normally, one could walk away from this experience with a negative lesson, but really, all friendships are formed with repeated awkward encounters repeated until they become less awkward and they're actually enjoyable.

I figure it was just the guy and me walking up out of nowhere. Case in point: random people I met a long time ago and haven't seen since have been just fine.

I still get a weird feeling when I first meet people, though. I'm pretty sure it isn't anxiety, no, it's more like shaking someone's hand is so routine, that can't help but wonder if it's really any form of connection at all. Maybe we're better off spitting on each other.

No that would just be gross.


Monday, January 17, 2005

Just Stand Back, Mother Fucker

As I was cruising down West 7th street I notcied something I really hadn't given much attention to: a sci-fi shop next to a porno shop.

Now, at first, this struck me as a fairly poor location choice. It's not that I don't know nerds, geeks, dorks, etc. aren't pervy, hell, I'm one of them (who doesn't love nappy sci-fi movies, raw hilarity in a can, son). All I'm saying is: your average porno shopper isn't someone I would associate with Mr. Spock (come on, every nerd knows you can get it cheaper online). However, upon later disscussion, it became apparent this store combo has been together for sometime, I was just to stupid to see it before.

So, how do we explain this bizzare combination, let alone its continual success?

My conclusion is fairly straight-forward: one. stop. shopping. I mean: if you need the new Mystery Science Theater 3000 DVD, a Captain Kirk mask for your next convention, and something to wank off to this is the place for you. If they sold Mountain Dew and Doritos it would be perfect.

Either that or there are some really bunk-ass nerds in St. Paul (just saying).

I would like to encourage ou to go see Happy Apple, they are very hilarious live. Jazz, but ca-razy.

Random Discovery of the Month: I really like high, fast guitar chords. Not like speed metal as much, but the same high chord repeated really fast. More like Billy Howerdel's work or the occasional Wedding Present (Take Fountain, by the way, looks to be totally fucking sweet) track.

Friday, January 14, 2005

Negative, Negative, Negative

Editor's Note: Before this post begins, I should note that it was originally much longer and posted much sooner, but blogger decided to eat my post instead of posting it, so you are left with the bare bones, the generl concept of what was other an awesome rant of a post.

Evangelical Christianity confuses me (well, extremist religious beliefs of any kind do, but I'm cranky about this at the moment). What baffles me the most is the idea of an, "Anti-Christ." I mean, is this thing set upon creating an anti-salvation, barring the way your heaven?

That would be a very literal interpretation and to take that analysis further: if a Christ's job is to not only to lead the people to heaven, but also to be an example for behavior, does the Anti-Christ serve a bad example and an attempt to tempt you away from heaven? Moreover, doesn't Christianity already have a figure to fill this role? The devil must be pretty peeved at all us choice proponent/pre-marital sex fan/pro-homosexual equailty folks taking his thunder.


Wednesday, January 12, 2005

Doesn't The Sun Always Hit the Sky? Are You Just Stupid?

That is a really good Supergrass song, I've always thought it a little funny at times.

"'Yo, Dad... I'm... sitting in the sun with just my pants on, a treat for the locals...' For some reason this made me insanely proud."
-John Peel

I'm always fascinated by the random things that I’m proud of, for example: I'm quite proud of my mad media editing skills, but I'm rather shy about my morning program ("oh, it's just a shift, no big deal, you know,"). At the same time, I’m incessantly proud of my free meal competition (there’s still time to join for the ‘05 season!), but try to brush off praise.

Pride in general is such a strange thing.

The dictionary defines pride as follows:
pride n.

1) A sense of one's own proper dignity or value; self-respect.
2) Pleasure or satisfaction taken in an achievement, possession, or association: parental pride.
3) Arrogant or disdainful conduct or treatment; haughtiness.
4) A cause or source of pleasure or satisfaction; the best of a group or class: These soldiers were their country's pride.
5) The most successful or thriving condition; prime: the pride of youth.
6)An excessively high opinion of oneself; conceit.
7)Mettle or spirit in horses.
8) A company of lions. See Synonyms at flock.
9) A flamboyant or impressive group: a pride of acrobats.
Weird alternate definitions aside (number seven was new for me, had to think on that for a bit), the whole idea of getting pleasure from knowing that you did something good is bizarre. What could possibly be the biological advantage? Seriously, I have no clue.

Most modern societal adaptations are like that, no practical applications. A sociological theory I've always had a fancy for (the citation escapes me, but bear with me) states that societies tend to get more attractive the more advanced they are. The rationale behind this idea is that the more primitive a given society is, the more partners are chosen on capacity to enhance odds of survival (e.g. "can he kill those wild animals," or, "can she bear healthy children?"). The flipside is: the more advanced the more attractive as partners are chosen for more social reasons than practical (e.g. "do her interests match mine, or, "will he make my friends jealous?").

Obviously this is a gross (large and disgusting, thank you) generalization; being a hot cave-person probably had its benefits, as does being practical these days. But it's comparable levels of attractiveness and survival ability that are the point here.


Monday, January 10, 2005

Is That Pronounced, "Ouy Kcuf," or Do You Prefer, "Kick My Fat Face In?"

English grammer is so strange.

I've been unable to go to slepp quickly of late. Usually, I put my head down and I'm asleep, but of late, there seems to be a mandatory half-an-hour toss and turn wait period I was unaware I had to meet. It doesn't matter how tired I am, how exhausted my body feels, I will take at least thirty minutes to pass out.

This is especiially frustrating because I'm usually short on sleep. So, I'm left to try to salvage sleep from the rest of my day, usually turning it into a wreck. Sleeping on buses isn't the problem, it's the sleeping on the couch at work that has me concerned.

I think my body is becoming a giant beuracracy, where everything has a wait period and quality is low. That would certainly explain my sleep issues, recent increase in the quality of my shit (both vocal and bottom variety), tendency to buy things I don't desperately need (well, the Akira Headrush 2 was essential, but I'm sure I'm wasting money on something else).


Saturday, January 08, 2005

Why Beat Your Wife When Your Kids Will Do

That was a terrible title. I don't endorse or support child abuse in any form, in fact I despise it; child abuse is evil and a horrible thing.

I work at a technical support call center on Saturdays. Not the most creativity inducing job, but $10.40 and hour is hard to argue with. Anyway, the callers seem more than content to take their frustrations over their computer problem out on me. This confuses me to no end. Here I am, trying to help these people (and they called me) and all I hear is screaming and yelling and carrying on and bitching and moaning and anger and rage and raw burning frustration. These are understandable emotions and it's equally understandable that they would still be angry, but they almost never apologize for yelling at me. Fuck, I'm only trying to fix the problem you were to fucking stupid to create. Maybe you should click on the god damn free slots pop up you god damn, fucking shit head.

I'm just frustrated. Don't yell at the technical service people. They have to deal with it all day and it just makes them hate you.


Wednesday, January 05, 2005

If You Would Direct Your Attention to Monitor Three, Dr. Riggetti Has a Facinating Visual Aid

I am incapable of being inconspicuous. At least, I fail at subtly getting someone's attention.

Most of the people I know can get other people's attentions by clearing their throats or issuing forth a fake cough sound. These are quiet, relatively unobtrusive ways of getting a person's attention, without tearing into what ever they were doing before like a rapid Doberman jumping through your window and biting your arm off. Well, maybe you'll spook them and they'll slice their hand off on the table saw they were working with, but most people don't try to talk to you while you're working with sharp, rotating, or otherwise deadly items... right?

To return to the topic at hand: I can't seem to do the throat clearing or dry coughing to gracefully. There's either to much sound created or I start hacking. It doesn't matter what I try; "ahem," always comes out way too loud and I might as well have just said something.

Realistically this part of a larger problem of me being too damn noisy. I can't whisper at all; it comes out too low unless I'm right on top of them (something that happens far too infrequently with women as far as I'm concerned, but I'm bitter) or everyone can hear it, so what was the fucking point? I also have a nasty tendency to curse and talk louder than I need too, so I look like an idiot half (well three-quarters at least) the time.

Someone, maybe Jack or someone with an equally high level of respect for me, said I probably just have a mild case of Tourette's Syndrome, which isn't a bad theory, actually. After all, Tourette's is really just an inability to control parts of your body (the uncontrollable cursing just gets all the attention because it's so funny. Speaking of funny things about Tourette's this book has the best title ever and is the most open discussion of the disorder I've ever read), which is kind of like being unable to control the volume of your voice.

My greatest power, is my power of rationalization. Wouldn't that be a crap-tacular super-power, the power to spew convincing bullshit! They could just get a good job as a White House Press Secretary, but not much else. "Power," is misused in this instance, and I retract my usage of it and replace it with capacity. Also replace greatest with, "most worthless," and forget this discussion about replacing things. That would make this more coherent.

What's worse is when I get excited (I was going to say, "no, not that way," but that happens too, so never mind) because I get louder just like anyone else does except and this on top of my normal loudness is just ridiculous. I think everyone I know has told me to turn it the fuck down at least once.

I'm not saying being loud doesn't come in handy at times. I can bellow things out fairly well and get people's attention right away. If I'm ever in a situation where I'm leading a band rag-tag survivors after some horrible cataclysm, I'll be able direct effectively. Then again, if I'm leading, then we're all in trouble, so it doesn't really matter. Didn't the old timey British navy have a non-command post for loud people? Noah, I'm looking at you here.

This really doesn't matter at all, and this post is apparently about nothing (as most posts are). My relentless fixation on my own foolishness continues.

As a side note: my dentist leaves the, "light rock," station on while things are being done to my mouth. This is bad enough, but then I heard "Here Comes the Sun" and then I just felt sorry for George Harrison; all that work to be regulated to the horror of, "light rock," shame.


Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Mass Trauma

I haven't been to a religious service in some time for a variety of reasons. I'm fairly agnotstic and organized religion isn't my cup of tea, so that's a big part of it. Logstically, I've just been too busy to think about it.

Moreover, I think I just really hate the feel of any kind of service. They always make me feel so constrainted, I always fidget.

It's probably my dislike of rituals. In explaination: I believe rituals are designed to reinforce faith, to give a physical action to provide people with the mechanisms to make their faith real enough to believe.
//My favorite examlpe of this Amitavah Buddhism. Simply chant, "Amitavah," to get to nirvana, the ritual is the simple chanting of a name, but it works perfectly as a actualizer because of that simplicity.///

I've always felt faith should feed faith; I'd rather believe because I believe, not because I make it feel real. Ritauls always seem like barriers to faith to me.

Funerals are also tied strongly to religion for me. That may be the other thing.

Good ol' death.


Monday, January 03, 2005

Everybody in the Place Says, "Move it, Move it."

Happy new year.

The longer I know some people, the more I don't like them. Some people who I considered my friends for years have just gotten more and more whorish and obnoxious. Perhaps it isn't them, maybe they've always been so freaking annoying and I just didn't notice and I've been the one who's changed.

Whatever, change happens, people move, personalities change over time (or at least they become more who've they've alwys been, depending on your view of such things), it's inevitable that people you used to like may become different enough that it doesn't work anymore.

For better or worse, I think I've gotten fairly loose about letting go of people. I used to try to hold on to friends who were becoming less and less so, but lately I haven't bothered. I still try to keep up with people I know, but I don't push to make failing friendships work. Makes amends when there's a row, absolutely, but salvage a strained mess, not that often.

I suppose I'm getting lazy, either that or I've decided to just move on in the face of unhealthy drama.

Maybe I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about.