Thursday, October 27, 2005

Marketing idea for my best friend who's in a band

My best friend Justin is in a band called Godot [pronounced Guh dough], that consequently is playing at the Grog Shop tonight. As they are most definitely destined to be mega famous rockstars like Motley Crue and Frankie Goes to Hollywood, I decided to ride their coattails and bang out some sweet marketing ideas.

Actually, I only have one idea, but it's a good one:

Once their first record goes double platinum, Ben and Jerry [and me] will drop this new flavor:

Chocolate Chip Cookie Godot

Hold your applause. I'm gonna make millions.

Butts aplenty

I've been known to smoke cigarrettes from time to time, but one thing that really chafes my lungs [apart from nefarious toxins] are the people who casually flick their butts all over the place. Litter in general just berates me, and living in a college environment, I come across hundreds of spent butts littering every entryway to every campus building.


Now, I realize smoking is bad and I probably shouldn't do it, but I refine my habits to best suit the general public. It's just courtesy. I never litter the ground with cigarrette butts, I'll look for an ash tray or other recepticle and if one isn't around, I'll carry my butt around until I find one.

Though it does get kinda frustrating at the end of the night when I sometimes remove upwards of a dozen used cigarrettes from various pockets on my person. Eww. At least I'm littering on myself and not on mother nature.

[Something of note: I smoke less than one cigarrette a day, these days.]

Monday, October 24, 2005

Pragmatical Issues in Cycling

I'm totally pro-bike. I love my bike. It's an effiecient, healthy way to get from point A to point B, granted point B is less than 10 miles of flat terrain away, and one can get there without using the highway.

Sure, I wreck more frequently than the average four year old, but at least I feel better about myself in that I own a bike and not a car.

This last summer was amazing, the pinacle of self-sufficiency. I got where I needed to go on two wheels and sheer will[and leg]power.

Then today happened: cold, rainy, windy, shitty, cold, rainy, rainy, rainy, rain in my eyes, speckling my glasses, making my jeans soaked, etc., etc. Biking was suddenly unpleasant when confronted with this harsh environment. And I'm increasingly exasperated by the fact that it will only get worse from here on out.

These facts lead me to consider the acquisition of a car. GASP! Could I possibly live with myself, knowing that I too possess the very vehicle of destructive capitalism that I have so harshly decried for the past ten months? I have a free car waiting for me in Pittsburgh, I just need to transfer the title. The possibility is lucrative, but I'll wait for the next few weeks to shake out. Hopefully, we'll have an Indian Summer until, say, February, then it won't even be an issue.

[Postmodern Dystopia Winter Forecast: Man-sized shards of ice falling from the sky at high velocities for the next four months. Don't venture outside unless protected by a sheet metal canopy.]

Goddamn it!

Rainy Day Music

As I plunge more headlong into the hole that is October [tangent: Upon discussing favorite months with people, hands down the most popular is October. Why is that? Sure the leaves change and its beautiful, the weather doesn't kick your ass too much at first, the air has that crispness of decaying plant matter, and Halloween's fun, I guess, but I'm definitely a Spring man, myself. To me October just represents the last gasp of friendly weather, before the white-grey assualt of frigid NE Ohio Winter. Anytime I think of Winter, I think of the Campus Commons field below Taylor Hall and how it turns to a solid sheet of ice from December 1st until about mid March. Winter sucks and October is just the starting point of this suckiness. April, on the other hand, is the beginning of Spring, which means budding life, new beginnings on the bloom, new warmth. Then there's Summer, which is also great. I just like beginnings more than endings. Plus, Fall means school, and although I like school, I like the freedom of Summer much more. Spring: good; Fall: bad. tangent over! Thanks for staying with me.], I am accosted with coldly weepy days such as this one.

Like everyone, I have my rainy day music. Also like everyone, I have a blog, so I thought it'd be a quaint little idea to combine the two to better "synergize" my life.

Today, I've been absolutely obsessed with the title track from Elephant's "Sunlight Makes Me Paranoid." That one's pretty self explanatory.

Other rainers on the parade, so to speak:
--Radiohead's "Amnesiac" and to a lesser extent "Kid A"
--Portisehead's "Dummy"
--Jeff Buckley's "Live at Sin-e"
--Elliot Smith's "From a Basement On a Hill"
--Yo La Tengo
--The Postal Service's "Give Up" even though I only like half the album
--The Smith's self titled

I'm sure there are plenty more in my library, but I need to go curl up in a dark corner and listen to the rain gently drone on the window pane. Fall sucks.

My Gratuitous All-time favorite Book Quote

"He thought that in the beauty of the world hid a terrible secret. He thought the world's heart beat at some terrible cost and that the world's pain and its beauty moved in a relationship of diverging equity and that in this headlong deficit the blood of multitudes might ultimately be exacted for the vision of a single flower."

from Cormac McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses

To get overly English-geek with this quote, it embodies the postmodern aesthetic of constantly shifting values. Plus it's depressing yet beautiful.

Simply put, the quote's fucking sweet. This book is so good it makes me cream my pants. "exacted for the vision of a single flower" !!! C'mon, how is that not the best thing anyone could ever read?

Friday, October 14, 2005

Upon two couples making out on a couch

I once again ventured to the ECC this lovely fall evening, this time in search of '80's night, meaning Prince music and poor dancing. And by poor dancing, I mean my own. I can't dance. In fact, I would venture to say I may very well be the absolute worst dancer in the history of rhythmic movement. I have no rhythm. Nada. "Oh, you're just being modest [read insecure]," some may say, but those are the people who haven't seen me dance. It's like a car wreck--decidedly awful, but they can't stop gawking at it.

Trust me, give me a beer and a half and I'll juke and jive all night. Then you'll probably vomit just slightly in your mouth [have a sour]. If the dancing persists, those chunks are hittin' the floor, baby. Yes, my dancing is that bad. Promise.

But anyway, I was at the ECC, dancing and making other people leave in disgust, when two moderately unattractive couples came in. I'm gonna say they were 16 years old or so, for the story's sake, but in reality they make have been 18+. Anyways, these two barely pubescent couples come in, do very little dancing at all [probably having seen me from the street], and then head for the couches to profusely make out. I think they came down just with the couches in mind. No 80's, no dancing, just Girls Gone Wild ECC edition straddling and tongues inextricably tied together, with the occasional look-over-the-shoulder-at-your-also-obnoxiously-lip-locked-friends.

I instantly had a sour. I guess fair is fair, after all.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

Deep-seated [self] Loathing

I was going to write a perky little anecdote about my recent trip to the 'burgh but I've got nagging little despair issues presently. Anxiety? you may ask. Possibly, but I just get down sometimes, I don't know why. Maybe a lonliness issue, as cliched as that may sound. Or something like not living my life to the fullest. Either way, I'm melancholy right now and felt the need to share it with someone, or something, rather, as I'm just feeding this sob story to my computer.

Don't cry for me computer, cry for the world. I do. It helps, I suppose.

Actually, I can't cry. Last May was noted for the greatest despair I've felt in a long time and could I cry? NO! I wanted to, mind you, but just couldn't get down to it. Lord knows I tried and everything. I came close at one point, looking forward to a nice little catharsis, but then my mom called and cheered me up. That's what pisses me off about moms, they're always there to stop you from crying. I should have just been like, "Look Mom, I'm trying to weep for myself and the world here, just let me be." But she wouldn't listen anyway.

Dammit, I'm starting to feel better already. Holy shit, does this mean my blog is like my new mom? What a mind fuck. In which case, Blog, I need a new pair of shoes and an iPod. No? Like I said, my new mom.

Monday, October 03, 2005


During a festive evening at the Oasis show, my dearest pal Amy began reflecting upon the nature of encores, as Noel had just said the previous song was their last. Yet they were back. Amid plumes of marijuana smoke, she surmised that they had obviously been lying, knowing full well that they would play in the extremely near future. When a band comes back out and plays an encore, there's a certain obligation the fan must feel to stay and listen.

This made it all the more exaspirating when Oasis began their encore with a song we'd never heard of. With a band like Oasis, if their last song isn't one that everyone knows, you can bet that there will be more songs to come. We both had to pee, and I had very quickly grown tired of Oasis. It was just time to go. Amy and I began to chant, "Sally Can Wait" with steady deliberation, knowing it was going to be the song that closed the half-set. But we were wrong. They did play "Sally," but it was not to be their last. They opted instead for an impromptu "My Generation," so that EVERYONE could sing along.

But why the encore? Is it an ego boost? Is it just common courtesy? Is it even necessary? How many shows have you been to that haven't ended with an encore?