Thursday, March 31, 2005
Desperation is my alarm clock
If I say I'm getting up at 7:00, I'll be up at five with the lowing of curses from the payphones outside. The guy on the other end is gonna screw his bro' and they're caught, they're caught. The one on the street says he should never have opened his big mouth.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Kind of an old one about living in Uptown in Minneapolis
Been busy. Haven't been able to post, really. Thought I'd air this one out.
Breathing bits and pieces of heat
Stunned daily
In recovery from and awaiting
Deeply religious experience.
Slack-jawed and vapid
Clawing at walking
And failing
Clawing at drinking
And failing well
Falling well short of expectations
Making do as though it’s the vogue
Clawing at running downhill
Desperate even in gravity’s good company
Failing miserably
And wondering at it
Uptown, you’re a suspect bitch
On Hennepin a spaghetti of veins and ink of
Skinny punk rock pasta
Dimming bulbs
Green as anything
As the people in it
Wet behind the ears
In uptown fallacious
Slumming it
Like a rock star
Here with my membership card
Me and lifestyle, boy
Hand in hand we’ll rock the party
In punch-drunk
Hungover
Uptown
We’re hanging up our watches
And stopping the clocks
Breathing bits and pieces of heat
Stunned daily
In recovery from and awaiting
Deeply religious experience.
Slack-jawed and vapid
Clawing at walking
And failing
Clawing at drinking
And failing well
Falling well short of expectations
Making do as though it’s the vogue
Clawing at running downhill
Desperate even in gravity’s good company
Failing miserably
And wondering at it
Uptown, you’re a suspect bitch
On Hennepin a spaghetti of veins and ink of
Skinny punk rock pasta
Dimming bulbs
Green as anything
As the people in it
Wet behind the ears
In uptown fallacious
Slumming it
Like a rock star
Here with my membership card
Me and lifestyle, boy
Hand in hand we’ll rock the party
In punch-drunk
Hungover
Uptown
We’re hanging up our watches
And stopping the clocks
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
weird cold dream update
Last night I dreamt about reanimated animals made to run around and play just as though they were alive through some revolutionary form of taxidermy. Temporary process and, as no one knew what energy source they were drawing on, no one knew how temporary.
Somehow associated with this was my going to some remote mountain town and tracking down my high school girlfriend, who had a shoebox full of my things and letters she had penned but never sent to me. And a reanimated kitten that, it made sense to think at the time, was reanimated so it could be posed more realistically dressed as a cowboy and riding another animal. It got away and started chasing something. I said, "It's so energetic." She said, "It's not energetic. It's dead."
There were some other things to do with a central-park type place at night, but can't remember them.
Somehow associated with this was my going to some remote mountain town and tracking down my high school girlfriend, who had a shoebox full of my things and letters she had penned but never sent to me. And a reanimated kitten that, it made sense to think at the time, was reanimated so it could be posed more realistically dressed as a cowboy and riding another animal. It got away and started chasing something. I said, "It's so energetic." She said, "It's not energetic. It's dead."
There were some other things to do with a central-park type place at night, but can't remember them.
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Sunday, March 20, 2005
the dipshic say the luv won't stop
The folks outside on First Ave
Screaming into the payphones
making their demands
clear as knives
in the name of love
for the love of god
in the name of love
they perpetrate a great deal of need and hate
they won't walk away, each from the other
they're screaming
I'm here
I'm here
you dirty motherfucker
now come pick me up
Screaming into the payphones
making their demands
clear as knives
in the name of love
for the love of god
in the name of love
they perpetrate a great deal of need and hate
they won't walk away, each from the other
they're screaming
I'm here
I'm here
you dirty motherfucker
now come pick me up
Monday, March 14, 2005
if you find that you're unstoppable...
If a blonde girl from Texas
Can wash under my lips
There is only some small piece of future
Before the whole branded world
Falls beneath the total acceptance of my embrace
Can wash under my lips
There is only some small piece of future
Before the whole branded world
Falls beneath the total acceptance of my embrace
Get Used
BoingBoing has pointed this out:
Cory Doctorow: Many readers have written to point out that AOL's new Terms of Service for AIM "include the right for AOL to use anything and everything you send through AIM in any way they see fit, without informing you. A sample passage: '...by posting Content on an AIM Product, you grant AOL, its parent, affiliates, subsidiaries, assigns, agents and licensees the irrevocable, perpetual, worldwide right to reproduce, display, perform, distribute, adapt and promote this Content in any medium. You waive any right to privacy.'"
Wonder what service I'll start using. So much of this depends on a network of friends who actually use the same tech you do. i.e. why cell phones here still suck.
Here's the link.
Cory Doctorow: Many readers have written to point out that AOL's new Terms of Service for AIM "include the right for AOL to use anything and everything you send through AIM in any way they see fit, without informing you. A sample passage: '...by posting Content on an AIM Product, you grant AOL, its parent, affiliates, subsidiaries, assigns, agents and licensees the irrevocable, perpetual, worldwide right to reproduce, display, perform, distribute, adapt and promote this Content in any medium. You waive any right to privacy.'"
Wonder what service I'll start using. So much of this depends on a network of friends who actually use the same tech you do. i.e. why cell phones here still suck.
Here's the link.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Universal Pussy
If I might-
Chicks on Speed made a really great song, but, if I might, with Universal Pussy, on 99 cents, they show that they maybe didn't know how they came about all their other great songs before that 2003 album.
It's a great song. It's a great in-your-face thing. The production tells me, as a home electro entrepreneur, that the chix are re-learning their whole schtick. It's good and it's heartening.
Hooray for chicx.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Lktrk
A neon cross with an erection
let this be my reflection
a representation of the divinity of my hard-on for you.
Number 1!
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Why Nabokov Means Bad News
David Byrne showed some Powerpoint slides created as satires of the information-expressing capabilities of Powerpoint that were expressing the plots and nuances of great works of literature and culture in Powerpoint's unrefined, low-resolution style. They were funny. One of the works he picked to flash up on the screen before us before moving on was Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. It was nearly incomprehensible.
Before I go any further, Nabokov is pronounced Na-BOE-kuv, with the second vowel stressed and long.
I mentioned that I thought the slide was incomprehensible in my consumer culture class on Thursday, prompting the question from the prof as to whether I had ever read the book. I said that no, I hadn't, that I'd read a part of it, but for the most part I have a special aversion to Nabokov. But I wasn't able to say this before a certain female in the room spoke up with her ringing endorsement of the text as a wonderful piece of lit.
My aversion to Nabokov is not a direct result of his work in and of itself. It is more to do with the type of women he seems to appeal to and therefore tends to remind me of. What type of woman is this, you ask? It is the woman who knows exactly what she is doing. She lives for power in any situation and eschews all sincere contact. She lives for attention and the manipulation of any situation for maximum long-term attention and the reception of maximum personal benefit by means of that long-term lavishing of attention. They are the women who want to be Lolita, who, above all else, though they don't know it themselves, though they simply have an overpowering sexual appetite for him, want to destroy Nabokov, the man who sees through them and thus is the only man with power over them. Men like these are the only ones that such women will actively pursue.
I'm going to go have a beer. Ciao.
Before I go any further, Nabokov is pronounced Na-BOE-kuv, with the second vowel stressed and long.
I mentioned that I thought the slide was incomprehensible in my consumer culture class on Thursday, prompting the question from the prof as to whether I had ever read the book. I said that no, I hadn't, that I'd read a part of it, but for the most part I have a special aversion to Nabokov. But I wasn't able to say this before a certain female in the room spoke up with her ringing endorsement of the text as a wonderful piece of lit.
My aversion to Nabokov is not a direct result of his work in and of itself. It is more to do with the type of women he seems to appeal to and therefore tends to remind me of. What type of woman is this, you ask? It is the woman who knows exactly what she is doing. She lives for power in any situation and eschews all sincere contact. She lives for attention and the manipulation of any situation for maximum long-term attention and the reception of maximum personal benefit by means of that long-term lavishing of attention. They are the women who want to be Lolita, who, above all else, though they don't know it themselves, though they simply have an overpowering sexual appetite for him, want to destroy Nabokov, the man who sees through them and thus is the only man with power over them. Men like these are the only ones that such women will actively pursue.
I'm going to go have a beer. Ciao.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
David Byrne- I ♥ Powerpoint
Tonight I went to see David Byrne give a presentation on the medium of Powerpoint. His stance was that as long as the powerpoint was just a background, that it wasn't being allowed to dictate the thought that was being presented or overly condense it, that it could be a freeing medium in that it could contain so many products of other forms of software presented, within its low-res limits, in unconventional ways potentially.
There were some pricks who stood up and asked a few untoward and hostile questions, but I think he took them with aplomb. Standing outside with friends before heading to a pub to eat, he came out, walked over to his bike, locked to a signpost, unlocked his bike, and walked with a group of self-important hoity-toits to some reception. I heard myself say "Thank you, Mr. Byrne." He looked over and said, "Thank you."
A few minutes later I realized I had 1) spoken to David Byrne as he was unlocking his ten-speed and 2) called him "Mr. Byrne." It sounded funny, but I wanted to show the guy respect.
There were some pricks who stood up and asked a few untoward and hostile questions, but I think he took them with aplomb. Standing outside with friends before heading to a pub to eat, he came out, walked over to his bike, locked to a signpost, unlocked his bike, and walked with a group of self-important hoity-toits to some reception. I heard myself say "Thank you, Mr. Byrne." He looked over and said, "Thank you."
A few minutes later I realized I had 1) spoken to David Byrne as he was unlocking his ten-speed and 2) called him "Mr. Byrne." It sounded funny, but I wanted to show the guy respect.
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