Ted Leo at South Street Seaport

Some things I've been thinking myself

The Burning Man festival has always seemed to me to be the ultimate celebration of self-centered behavior, chock full of personal revelations that don't lead to anything. Feelings of being closer to god leading to... nothing! No change, just a return to the grind. God no longer omnipotent but, instead, omnimpotent. I don't get this faux hippie bullshit, revelations not leading you to new heights of understanding of the interconnectivity of all things, just a really far-out way to be into yourself and whatever dramatic, amazing thing you're experiencing... for yourself.
(photo found via Warren Ellis' blog)

Mr. Brian Jonestown

Last night on my way to a 2-4-1 happy hour at 151 Rivington we walked past Iggy's, and who should be standing outside broodingly smoking a cigarette in a peasant shirt but the guy from Brian Jonestown Massacre. I proceeded from there to see an entirely shitty apartment in Williamsburg.

Fotki

Son Volt at the South Street Seaport. Hope to have some Ted Leo pics for the free show there this Friday.

People don't mind the floor on the n train. Interesting. Someone has a knack for this.

I'm reading The Winter Men

I wandered into Forbidden Planet yesterday to see if the riot of color, fetishized representations of sexy authority and authority confused with sex, and retarded people buying Green Lantern T-Shirts (and not even the old-school, Golden age Green Lantern in a yellow circle on a red background, insignia, either) would overstimulate me into a coma like it's done for the past year or so. It didn't! I ended up picking up two books that jumped out at me, both on Wildstorm. One was Desolation Jones #2, the new series from writer Warren Ellis, and the other a book about the whereabouts of secret Soviet supermen in the present day- The Winter Men. Highly enjoyable, extremely dense. Looking forward to collecting this one.

North Korean Browbeatings!

You psychopathological traitor, such a provocation will be regarded as a declaration of war!

The CHUD Menace

Download a free CD's worth of Stereo Total Rarities

Do it.

Podkasting ist rad

For kicks, check out the podcast at Splendid . Also, all entries from 8/12 till this one should be read from bottom to top.

encroachment of chaos into the visible standards of a sloth bureaucracy fastidiously opposed to deviation from routine?

blue that in the Russian would contain the accusation of homosexuality. A clever, nearly inaudible defacing of federal property? The

There is a mailbox of nonstandard hue on the eastern corner of 4th and cooper square. It is a buoyant tint of electrical sky, a hopped up baby

File under phenomena solely of interest to me: I saw Richard Hell on the street Friday night.

These people are trying to kill me.

Trying to kill me." They, of course, are. It is again very hot in New York City. I have to find a place. I have to remember to pay my fines.

Heard exclamations during apartment searches, as a matter of trivia, is the same as that consuming task of finding servitude: "these people are

Shelter. One of the tests of conspicuous consumption posed generally sometime before "will you sleep with me" is "where do you live?" One of the

Rooms to let, tempting one to focus all one's powers on the ephemeral, passing, but all too near to the bone material and social need for

Ransom. There is tomorrow's excursion into wage servitude and the grappling with the choosy, spelling-challenged internet enthusiasts with