Thursday, March 31, 2005
Robert Creeley 1924-2005
Rope a Dope!!! (went up to your face and dissed you)
Thinking about our Cali travels got me thinking. I know many of us have been places that the rest of the peons, slaves of capitalism, slaves of fear, etc. etc. and general untermuench have only dreamed of. Even though we've traveled with people (usually) I've always found that each trip is highly personal and subjective. Therefore, if you will it, I'm going to start writing about chunks of various journi that I've taken as they pop into my head. Because it is no dream! It's real, and I think two things: writing about it helps you remember intricacies, and reading about other people's shit is fun. So I'm going to start posting under the title "Visions of X" where I fill in X with a place that I've been (mainly so if these vision bore you, you'll know to skip them) and I hope other people do the same, but I won't feel bad if you don't, and if you think my idea sucks, and if you think I suck.
OK, I'm not going to do that to you -- I'm gonna tell you about "Rope-a-Dope." I think we probably listened to Paul's Boutique like 5 times on the way out to Cali. You know "Sounds of Science:" before it gets pretty cool and crazy, it goes "Rope A Dope!!! The Newest in NEW!!! Went up to your face and dissed you. (Bamp!)" We were like obsessed with this, and I still am probably, but we would say it all the time. Then at one point, we were in the parking lot of a motel somewhere so we could rest for the night. It was somewhere in the midwest, probably our stop after St. Louis (which is a story in itself). Trent was doing something, either trying to check in, or fucking around when we were about to leave, and me and Stevy are chillin by the car. One of us made a comment about how Trent brought so much shit that he had to tie a fucking rope around his duffel bag to keep it all in. At that point, one of us, I'm not sure who and it doesn't matter, yells out ROPE-A-DOPE!!!!!!!! From that point forward, Trent was called "rope-a-dope," and the phrase was uttered each and every time A) the trunk was opened and there's Trent's bag, B) whenever he was re-roping the bag, C) whenever we felt like it (and we felt like it a lot). It took Trent probably two months into our stay in San Diego before it occured to him that he was Rope-a-Dope.
So there's a little slice of Cali for you dudes. There was also a "palate-boy" scenario, something about a titanic air mattress, a stale roll traveling at a high velocity (from an unknown source I might add), firecrackers, midnight ping pong, gay gentlemen getting verbally assualted because of midnight ping pong, lizards, snakes, jakes, tunas, and much more. I can't go into it all.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Lebowski Line of the Day
Monday, March 28, 2005
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Friday, March 25, 2005
1. Decent Days And Nights - The Futureheads
2. Goodnight And Go - Imogen Heap
3. Fortress - Pinback
4. On The Table - A.C. Newman
5. To Be Alone With You - Sufjan Stevens
6. Play - Flunk
7. Scarecrow - Beck
8. The View - Modest Mouse
9. Hardcore Days & Softcore Nights - Aqueduct
10. Cartwheels - The Reindeer Section
11. Eve, The Apple Of My Eye - Bell X1
12. Champagne Supernova - Matt Pond PA
And who is putting out this compilation you ask? Well friends, I will tell you. Its The O.C. Mix Vol. 4. Whoever puts together the music on that show has some damn fine musical taste, no joke. Vol. 3 was a indie rock christmas mix that was a hit around the Yerdon household during the holidays, and their taste just seems to be getting better and better. Dont hate....
P.S. If youve never heard Imogen Heap then give her a listen...one of my new favs
- Mike Y
Thursday, March 24, 2005
For those of you who have TiVo, or some digital recorder from your cable provider, I'd like to recomend recording films off TCM, which are comercial free of course, and watching them at your liesure (how do you spell this word?). I've been crunching some numbers and come up with a formula: TiVo + TCM = free film school.
I've gone to the TCM website and wrote down infinite films that I'll record onto video tape because they aren't just stupid shit that your grandma watches, but actually staples of film history. My calandar looks like I have a lot to do, but really it's just all jammed up with titles/showtimes. Here are a few:
Tonight: (4:15 AM-8AM)
My Man Godfrey (Both have Criterion dvd releases if that means anything to you)
Friday night (2-4 AM)
La Strada (Fellini) also criterion
also a Fritz Lang movie, which I didn't write down the specifics for becuase I have it already.
The Passion of Joan of Arc (Dreyer (silent)) also criterion
2PM Sullivan's Travels (Sturges) also criterion
2:15 AM Key Largo (killer noir film. check it out.)
There are a few more, and my month of april is also completely booked up. I'm really excited about this invention. And guess who did it baby. Me! (A little D in there). Man, coffee fucks you up. By the way, banning steriods from baseball is like banning coffee from academia. I'm in a mood tonight!
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Lebowski Line of the Day
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
fulfill your duty, men
It all started on a Saturday night at Binghamton University. My desire to go downtown and get drunk with all the fraternity and sorority bitches being long gone, I accepted an invitation from some friends with an offer to smoke pot and perhaps play beer pong at their place. I had my hesitations, considering that I had never hung out with these boys except for our random meetings downtown or our daytime procrastinating when we lived in the same building freshman year. However, I decided to broaden my horizons and do something other than my common nighttime activities, which consist of getting high and watching Family Guy.
After getting about a million phone calls wondering when I was coming over and asking me to bring some pot smoking appliances, I finally showed up around midnight. Upon arrival, I noticed the abscence of a beer pong table (disappointment #1) and the feeling anxiety that filled the room. "Maria, should we open the windows, we don't want the smell to be overwhelming? Maybe we should get water or something? You brought a bong?? I dont know how to use those!" (disappointment #2). Needless to say, these boys were avid gym-goers and though some claimed to be ex-pot smokers, I was beginning to have my doubts.
I thought that every single one of them was going to die after each hit they took, despite the fact that half the time I was clearing the majority of the smoke for them (disappointment #3). After that fiasco, one of them proceeds to whip out a karaoke machine...mind you, nobody was drunk...and starts singing cheesy 90s love songs (I don't think I need to label my disappointments anymore, they're getting to be too frequent, and I'm sure you all get it by now).
At this point I took out my cell phone, and as I'm typing "HELP ME!!" to a friend, I got called out. "Ooooh, look at Maria. She's tryin to be all slick in the corner with her phone...she's probably text messaging Sandra like 'Damn, these boys are pussy's, they can't handle weed'" I tried to get out of it with some bullshit but let's face it...I was high, I'm a terrible liar, and they were exactly right. Of course I felt guilty after and couldn't leave right away so I was forced to stay longer than I wanted to...and I didn't even get to send my text message.
As the time passed and the ridiculous behaviour ensued, I realized that...even though I had the only vagina in the room, I also had the largest ballsack. One might think that, being the feminist that I am, a realization like this would've made my night. Instead, it made me extremely sad. You know that metaphorical light of hope that's inside everybody? Well my friends, it dimmed that night...and it has yet to shine as bright as it used to.
Lewbowski Line of the Day
Monday, March 21, 2005
Lebowski Line of the Day
Titles are Overrated
K-Os - Joyful Rebellion - How this guy isnt blowing up every radio station here to San Diego is beyond me. Real good alternative style rap, with the single "Crabbuckit" easily the best song I've heard all year...kinda reminds me what "Hey Ya" would sound like if you replaced the 60s sound with a New Orleans jazz band
The Kills - No Wow - Can't get enough of this cd...stripped down, angular and punky, and when i say stripped down, I mean skin and bones; vocals, guitar and drum machine only...and I mean that in a good way. Check out "The Good Ones"
Amon Tobin - Bricolage - Latlely Ive been attempting to listen to alot of techno, mainly cause Im getting kinda bored with indie rock. Finding good techno is more difficult that it seems Ive found, mainly cause most techno either causes a seizure or is elevator music. Amon Tobin is different though...real laid back beats, mixed in with some sick jazz samples...if i had a girlfriend, i would bang her out listning to this....check out Supermodified if you like Bricolage
M.I.A - Arular - I dont know If Im actually allowed to like this type of music, but I do anyways. Shes kinda the indie Seal Paul, except shes from Sri Lanka and grew up in England listning to reggae and house. Really catchy if you give it a chance, and she just got signed by Jay Z, so get on the band wagon now before she blows up
Lewis and Clark or Magellan?
Tuesday, March 8th
4:30 a.m. : Wake up
6:20 a.m: Board plane and sit there for 2 hours because of bad weather.
10:00 a.m: Arrive in New York
12:00 p.m: Flight to Paris cancelled. Re-book to London. Also had to re-book flight from Brussels to Pisa to London to Pisa via cell phone with roommate Frank. Sidenote: When traveling, one must have the mentality of Mr. Wolf
6:00 p.m: Board flight to London
Wednesday, March 9th
7:00 a.m: Arrive in London after short flight delay
7:45 a.m: Take tube to central London. Walk around and enjoy the nostalgic/bizzaro feelings erupting inside of me.
1:00 p.m: Take a the National Express bus to Stansted airport in London.
2:30 p.m.: Sit in Stansted and look at all the rotten teeth of Europeans.
6:30 p.m: Board flight to Pisa.
10:00 p.m.: Arrive in Pisa
10:30 p.m.: Take bus to Florence
11:30 p.m.: Take cab to Laney's house
11:45 pm.: Arrive at Laney's house
Thursday, March 10th
12:00 a.m. - 3:30 a.m: re-aquaintance with Laney (i.e. sex)
3:30- a.m. - 5:00 a.m: Sleep
5:00 a.m: Awake (kind of) and take taxi to Florence train station with backpack and wheelchair in hand (Laney had a broken ankle).
6:40 a.m: Board Eurostar train to Naples
10:40 a.m: Arrive in Naples
11:00 a.m: Take cab to port of Naples
1:00 p.m: Board boat to Sorrento
1:40 p.m: Arrive in Sorrento
2:00 p.m: Take bus to central Sorrento
3:00 p.m: Walk to Hotel
This is mastery level traveling that tests the mind, body and breath (it's get pretty damn nasty although I did take a wonderfully fufilling Puerto Rican shower at Heathrow airport ala McDonald's on the U.S.A. trek). Now you all may be asking yourselves why I wouldn't check any baggage. Let me tell you friends, checked baggage is just another way to fuck your traveling up. When my flight from Paris got cancelled, I needed to be nimble since I wasn't sure what flight I was going to end up on. Had I checked a suitcase, I may not have been able to get it onto the new flight. Another important travel technique is to create a suitable sleeping environment. For instance, it is really hard to sleep on a plane sometimes so you must find other ways. I slept in the back of my bus on the way to Stansted airport. I also slept at Stansted. When I refer to "slept", I am actually referring to "the greyhound haze", a term I coined way back Freshman year when I traveled 72 hours on a greyhound.
When we finally arrived at our hotel in Sorrento, I went onto our seaview terrace that overlooked the Mediterranean and the atrocious schedule I just went through was more than worth it. Actually...getting laid for the first time in 8 weeks was worth it as well but I don't want to sound too masagonistic. Anyways, I shall post Pisa asap. Hope y'all had a good spring break/another meaningless week.
Buffalo really sucks, and
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Multiple Lebowski Quotes, Making Up for Lost Time
"Is this your homework Larry?"
"You see what happens Larry? You see what happens when you fuck a stranger in the ass!?"
have a nice day
Friday, March 18, 2005
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Retard says what?
Me: "So what kind of music are you into?"
Him: "Uhh..... I don't know, different stuff."
Me: "Like what for example?"
Him: "I like a lot of 80's music I guess."
Me: "So like what bands are you listening to?"
Him: "Uhh... I don't know, I like a bunch of older punk music."
By this point I realize that this guy is a total herb and probably rarely listens to music, choosing rather to spend his time programming, which in fact is what he does for a living. However I continue to probe in order to reach some conclusion about his musical taste.
Me: "Like the Clash, Sex Pistols, that kind of thing?"
Him: (aside to his girlfriend) "What bands do I like listen to?"
Her: "Rancid, NOFX, the Sex Pistols......" (she mentions a couple other that I don't remember)
Now I am really perplexed. Is this guy retarded to the point that he doesn't even know what he listens to, or does he just listen to his girlfriends' music, never having aquired his own affection for music? The latter is quite disturbing to me, the thought that there are people out there that are not into music! I am also astonished that this squirrelly fellow has a girlfriend. Now I am fed up and decide to pound the rest of my beer just to give myself an excuse to leave the conversation, but before I can exit he adds one further detail.
Him: "Oh, you know what are great?"
Me: "No, what?"
Him: "They have these compilation discs called Punk-o-rama, they have about fifteen to twenty songs from various artists, and they only cost like 10 bucks. They've made twelve of them now, I got em all, they're awesome!"
Me: "Wow, thats cool, I need another beer, excuse me."
So with that said I left to replenish my beverage, now being able to say that I've met one of those imbeciles that buy those stupid fucking compilations they sell on televsion. Whenever I talk with someone like that I swear I can feel myself getting stupidider.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Hot and Cold
1 - Chilling the fuck out - Replacing 2004 staple of Settling the fuck down as preferred method of mood control
2 - The Kills - What is it about 2 piece faux blues bands that really get me going (I'm looking at you, The Black Keys and The White Stripes)
3 - Summer for The OC - Both witty and attainably hot, edging out Marissa with her scandalous lesbian relationship with Alex fading fast
4 - Terrance Roberts - Insertion into starting lineup has added much needed hustle and offensive rebounding
5 - New Orleans Thieves - Stevy was right, although I hate to admit it. My initial loss is turning into a massive gain, as I have recently purchased a sweetass camera, with laptop and Ipod purchases looming in the near future
1 - NCAA Selection committee - Syracuse a 4 Seed? Possible Vermont-Michigan St-Duke-UNC-Illinois road to the National Championship? I would like to see the supply of drugs they had when determining that an acceptable seeding for the Big East Champions
2 - Waterbeds - Lack of back support and disorienting water flowage makes for an uncomfortable sleep
3 - Ryan from The OC - The nice guy from the wrong side of the tracks needs to add a third face to his repertoire; expanding on both the sad face and the hurt face
4 - JJ Redick - Is there any player in the country easier to hate? Nope, didn't think so
5 - Nubuk Leather- I have managed to ruin two pairs of Pumas already this winter because of the fragility of this specific type of suede leather
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Top 5 and bottom 5 ~ isms
5.alcoholism (depending on how you look at it)
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Hot and Cold
1) Having personal access to state of the art recording equipment and software
2) Being single in NYC (estimated female population= 4 million)
3) Not having a job!
1) Lack of L-Train service to Brooklyn
2) Being called obsessively by your ex
3) Knowing inevitably that you will have to get a job
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Death of a Girlfriend by A Miller-light
MY GUIDE TO THE WORLD OF "BREAKING-UP"**
1) Do not be overly-sensitive to the others feelings, unless you want, and think, you can be friends. If you do not want to be friends this will only make the process harder. It will install an impression upon the victim that there is still a chance of working things out.
2) A subsidiary of rule#1: Have a few drinks before the execution: this will make it easier to say what you really think, and doing so will prove beyond a reasonable doubt to the victim that the relationship is over.
3) Have the execution at their place or, if you have not been seeing them that long, over the phone. This will prevent making a scene in public and allow you to leave the situation anytime you feel necessary. Also, if you have possesions at their place that you intend to keep, this is the perfect time to take them back in order to avoid an awkard meeting later on.
4) DO NOT FEEL GUILTY, it is your life. It is your right to see whomever you want. If breaking-up is what you want to do then that is all there is to it. Do not patronize yourself for doing something that was in your best interest. Do not feel that it is your mission to turn this person into a better human being, you do not owe anyone that responsibility except your children.
5) There is no need to justify your reasoning to the victim. You know why your terminating them and thats enough.... besides they will never be able see themselves as you do, and if perchance they can, well better luck to them next time.
6) Do not believe them when they tell you they will change, most likely they will not, and isn't it the point to find someone you love for who they actually are?
7) DO NOT HAVE SEX WITH THEM or show them any affection. This will make it harder for them to get over you and is simply selfish and cruel.
8) If you have truly made up your mind: Do not let them talk you out of it, do not be a pussy.
** I am in no way the most insightful or experienced individual concerning the topic. These are merely some basic guidlines that I feel can be helpful to others. These guidelines are not numbered in order of importance, and they do not necessarily pertain to every situation and circumstance. Feel free to interpret them as you may.
What's spinning in my cd player or hard drive
Stuff I can't get enough of:
Six Organs of Admittance - School of the Flower
Iron & Wine - Woman King EP
RJD2 - Deadringer
Jolie Holland - Encondida
Stuff I like, but in smaller bursts:
M83 - Before the Dawn Heals Us
Leonard Cohen - Dear Heather This album is really wierd and I like it, although not as much as Songs from a Room, which is one of my favs.
I'm thinking about getting an iPod but the thought makes me a little ill. Maybe I'll get the small one and just hawk it on ebay after a little while...
Please put my Playboy's back in monthly order
I now know the exact mixology of a Hurricane, and have drank so many to know that Hurricane mix is able to tint urine a sundownish color of red. I know that when you eat crawfish, you should call them mudbugs, and that if you don't suck the head you'll be looked down upon by the natives. I know they call em mud bugs because they live in the mud, which is everywhere in New Orleans because I also know that the average altitude is ten ft. below sea level. I know that the city of New Orleans judges the economic impact of Mardi Gras by gather all the garbage which and weighing it over a period of about three weeks. I know that taxi drivers can teach you all sorts of useful informations. I know that every night the average height of garbage in the streets in 4.2 inches -- high enough to make a drunken walk home at 5am seem like a trek through quicksand. I know that the ensignia on the Saints helmet, which symbol is found everywhere down there, is known as the Flor de Lis (or something French) and was adopted from a royal family. I know what gumbo and jumalaya is and what it tastes like, and that it isn't really that good even if it sounds exotic and enticing to Northerners. I know that a Po' Boy is just another name for a sub, particularly one that comes on French bread, and that the name was adopted because some guy used to make sandwitched for poor workers, and that again, even though the name sounds cool, I haven't eaten one that tastes one tenth as good as a Wegman's sub. I know what 6 pounds of beads feel like around your neck. I know how it feels to be hit with a caroming necklace of beads in the back of the head and neck (thanks Y), and also know how good it feels to whip a set of beads as hard as one can at an unsuspecting balcony patron and hit said patron in the face. I've seen people hawking copious quantities of beer and mixed drinks out of recepticles that you might think twice about booting in if it came down to it. I've seen port-o-potties overflowing with human excriment as you pee in them, and have thought it rather assinign that you can't just piss in the street because of this. I've had infinite brain freezes because everything tastes better in the form of cold slush. I know that "trim" is slang for pussy, as I was told I'd see a shitload of trim. I know that the dude who informed me of this was not exactly a liar. I know his wife was pretty hot too. I know that six straight days of the heaviest drinking you can imagine really takes it out of you. I know that after six of these days, you don't really mind crashes for a few hours, six people in a room big enough for 1 and a half. I know that Y has a pair of white bower briefs that will be forever red. I know you shouldn't bring valuables to the land of debauchery. I know you should carry your wallet in your front pocket, stick together, stay away from alleys, and never piss in the street. I know that prolonged exposure to debauchery makes you snap out of sleep every five minutes, which becomes really annoying and also makes you think you might be dying. I know I knew a lot more before my brain cells up and left, and I know I'll think of a lot more stuff like in the form of acid-flashback-like memories. But if I know anything, I know you should visit.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
As for me, I'll be going to Florida Thursday morning. Really early. You know what the sun's all about when it hasn't even risen yet. I'll be thinking about the sun as I embark on my journey, which does not exist on the same scale as V's by the way, and when I get off the plane I'll have a whole week of warmth. I just know it. I'll be tanning on the beach with some fresh squeezed Heinekens. Man I like Heineken. Don't you guys like Heineken?
So have a good break if it applies to you, and I'll see most of you when I get back to the Cuse next Thursday.
Monday, March 07, 2005
Lebowski Line of the Day
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Let's try that again...
Lebowski Line of the Day
Lebowski Line of the Day
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Top One Thing at 11:00pm on Saturday
In or out
Bliggity Blog Ya'll
I don't have anything incredibly cool to say yet....but don't worry.
I'm leaving for London in 5 days!
peace out boozebags
Relax. Dont Think About. The Way I Treat You
Ambulance Ltd - Primitive
Ambulance Ltd has had the shit hyped out of them so far this year, and this track shows why. Good little bit of indie rock that isnt going to set the world on fire with originality but its so well done that I dont care. I think the disc came out at the start of Ferbruary, but I could be wrong
Mirah - Cold Cold Water
Mirah put this song out I think in 2001 on her Advisory Commitee disc, which is solid, but not as good as her new one Cmon Miracle. Mirah is famous for, among other things, her bisexuality, her stance against Israel and looking surpringly like Trents girlfriend. She also writes some sick tunes, and Cold Cold Water is probably her best. I would describe it either as epic of cinematic, depending on my mood. And in a good way, cause usually I hate those types of songs. Enjoy
Friday, March 04, 2005
Top 5 / Bottom 5 things to do hung over on sunday morning
1. Listen to "Sunday Morning" by the VU.
2. Take a huge smash.
3. Take a 45 minute shower.
4. Go back to sleep.
5. Drink a pot of coffee, eat a huge breakfast, then masturbate to broadband porn.
2. Clean your apartment.
4. Wake up next to someone of the oposite sex who is, to put it nicely, revolting.
5. Find out that said revolting (put nicely) person burned you. I can't imagine how bad that would be.
Skinhead, Nietzsche, Library
"Through the exit" I replied caustically.
"Really? You know what, come with me." said the bat.
"What?!? I'm not going anywhere. What's this about?"
"I saw you go through the entrance when you left instead of the exit. Let me see your SU id!"
"I left through the exit! That guy over there checked me and my books out!"
I then proceeded to take out my Id and shove it in her mug.
"This is because of my shaved head isn't it?!?!"
"No...a person that looked like you exited through the entrance. I'm sorry"
"I'm a senior you know. I swear, I'm an academic."
"Sorry again." she replied obviously put out by my hostile attitude.
"Yeah. Take it easy and have a good night."
As I walked out, I thought to myself "Out the entrance? I never go in through the 'exit only' holes nor do I exit the 'enter only's." But then I thought, "damn I'm a prick. Why did I just get so pissed at this lady? I'm not a fucking academic. I'm just a punk college student like everyone else." I thought about going to apologize and I realized that I have a shaved head, all black on and Nietzsche's seminal work "Beyond Good and Evil" in my bag and I said fugit....Friedrich would be proud.
Lebowski Line of the Day
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Movies / Napoleon Dynamite
I’ve never had sex with a prostitute. The whole business, besides being debaucherous to the max, runs on the erroneous notion that the service offered makes one feel better about oneself. I’ve been told, though, that in reality, when time’s up and the pants are zipped, the person just feels that much more frustrated, lonely, and empty. Plus you could get a disease. In many ways the cinema provides a similar service, albeit a far less sensual one. I’m pretty sure I didn’t catch anything besides wafts of buttery breath between stifled yawns from the popcorn-munchers seated around me, but Jared Hess’ first feature film, Napoleon Dynamite, certainly did make me feel a little empty and used.
Movies are an emotional ride, probably more so than any other medium. Somewhere between the exciting voyeuristic experience of the dark theater and the unconscious swapping of one’s own personal emotional state for that which is projected on screen lies a complex system of which we can say, if nothing more, that it keeps people coming back despite jacked up ticket prices. Of course not only does this idea of cinematic pleasure break down if the subject matter is stale in theme or presentation, but especially in the case of Napoleon Dynomite, when the film is completely devoid of emotion in the first place
The film’s title character (calling him the “hero” would be a gross misapplication of the word) is a high school-age kid who lives on a farm in Idaho with his quad-riding, llama-owning, swinger of a grandmother, and his older brother, a sickly-looking dweebish fellow who spends two to four hours daily in online chat rooms “chatting with babes.” And Napoleon, vaguely reminiscent of a two-toed sloth, is that guy from your high school who you and your friends used to make fun of in secret and then scold each other for doing so, because these jokes would send you screaming into Hell about as fast as tripping a disabled “sprinter” mid-race in the Special Olympics. Except in this film, not only do Napoleon’s peers berate him unapologetically, but also slam his skull against the unforgiving metal of locker doors, and smush his stash of lunchroom tater-tots on reserve in the cargo pocket of his sweatpants. Napoleon’s uncle Rico, perhaps the funniest main character (and maybe the only well-developed character in the film) soon swaps maternal roles with the grandmother after she beefs it performing a Knievel-like stunt in the sand dunes. Rico is reliving his 1982 high school football championship loss, which would have been achieved, he’s sure, if coach had put him in fourth quarter. He sells Tupperware, herbal breast enhancers, and constantly examines his biceps when his elbows rest on the table. The film follows Napoleon and his friend Pedro, an almost insultingly Latino stereotype, through a few sunny high school days.
In and of itself, this selection of characters could make for a powerhouse of a comedy, or a tragedy – most likely a black comedy. But something went wrong. The dream team got on stage, but instead of performing like a synchronous, well-directed squad, they looked unsure and lazy, like my grandmother on Valium. Except for snippets sidesplitting dialogue and outrageous performances by minor sub-characters, like the cool guy in high school whose only purpose seems to be to makes the exaggerated faces cool people make. In other words, about eight of the films eighty two minutes are hard-hitting fun, while the rest is literally retarded. Why?
Let’s go back to character development for a minute. It is completely impossible to know what to make of any scene – should I laugh? cry? – because the viewer is never given any clue to what’s going on in any character’s head, especially Napoleon’s. Many critics have compared this film to Todd Solondz’s Welcome to the Dollhouse (1995), a brilliant black comedy that works because we know protagonist Dawn Wiener’s feelings. For instance, she hates her family because they shit unduly on her, and we sympathize with her, but we also laugh at the specific ways the shit is dealt out, and the ways she takes the shit. However, since Hess bars us from knowing what percentage of a brain Napoleon actually has, and how he actually feels about everything around him, and whether or not his futile attempts at retaliation are admirable like a wounded hero, or pitiful like a wounded fish, it is impossible to feel anything but indifference – the worst of all cinematic emotions. Hess never once makes it clear what he’s trying to do, which is fine if you’re Kubrick filming a philosophic meditation like 2001, but not fine if you’re a first-time filmmaker doing a comedy. First you think maybe Napoleon actually has a little something upstairs and that his rebellion against the grain of cliquey high school society and politics is some sort of over-arching statement against how irrelevant that part of life is. But then it seems like this slice of Idaho is like an exploited freak-show. Obviously, then, we are supposed to feel sympathy for these characters, except there isn’t the slightest hint of sympathy for the perpetual sadness of their plights. I was so confused and frustrated that, other than these emotions, I didn’t feel much of anything at all.
So what we have is a hit-or-miss attempt to be as funny as possible without anything to back it up. Fact: the pale white brother gets turned into a gangster by his African-American internet love interest from Detroit. Fact: Uncle Rico, who we love to hate, gets turned into a punching bag trying to sell herbal breast enlargement to the wife of an ultimate fighting champion (Diedrich Bader, whose earlier cameo is hilarious, by the way). Fact: You can’t find a weirder character than Napoleon, and I’d like to meet the guy in real life. Unfortunate Fact: I am relying as heavily on the word “fact” as Napoleon does on the exclamation “Gosh!” which gets old quick. I imagine all this was the brainstorm of Hess and his friends as they sat around nostalgically saying “remember when we used to do this!” Granted, there memories were a little stranger than mine, and the tilt they gave them was nice and extreme. The substance, however, was simply lacking, and I found myself wishing this was a Saturday Night Live skit rather than a feature film.
Pretty Girls need pretty friends
Fat, white, wanna be puerto rican sluts suck. So last night around I'm surfing the net about to go to bed. I get an IM from a friend who has two girls coming over and needs someone to entertain the friend. This late at night I had conceded the fact that I wasn’t getting any today and this perked me right up. OK, to be fair the prospect of getting laid that day was never in the cards. Anyway, I throw some clothes on and head over. I figured that if the girl was at least interesting to talk to, I would be willing to occupy her for a time. And depending on looks make a move at it. I arrived and met the two girls my friend brought home/picked up off the street/or however else you get 2 random girls into your house. Right away I smirked and introduced myself to them. Immediately noticed was the large girl in the red windbreaker with her back to me. No matter how interesting she may be there's no way I'm hooking up with her, I thought to myself. She looked like she wanted to be Puerto Rican. Her skin was the color of a bad tan and she wore semi-large round gold earrings the size and shape of a Cadillac’s hood ornament, only with a cursive word scrawled across it. The charm on one of her many gold necklaces was written in the same script that remains ever elusive to my eyes. It was probably some Spanish gibberish, or her name or something gay like that. Oh god, was she not only not attractive she was ghetto too. I prayed not to be left alone with her.
The other girl was a very pretty girl with a tight body. Her hair was light to dark brown and wavy. She stood less that 5 ft high. She was well dressed in jeans and a knit shirt. She had a cute smile too so the night wouldn’t be a total loss. But something was wrong with her. I looked at her a while before I realized what was putting me off about her. She stood up and all of a sudden I hit a time warp. She looked just like an ex-girlfriend. And not just a little bit. I'm talking height, weight, face, body, eyes. Everything except the hair was darker. It freaked me out. I immediately hated/loved/wanted to fuck the shit out of this girl.
During the night several interesting facts came to light. The most shocking was that the “Puerto Rican” had sex with fifteen guys! First this statement set off my bullshit detector, but I thought that since she's fat she probably needs to be slutty. Then she mentions how she was involved in a threesome. I can barely wrap my head around the idea of her having normal fat-sex, but now she had multiple partners simultaneously. When pressed further it was revealed that was she not only in one threesome but she's had two! By now I'm falling out of my chair. Apparently the adventures were with an extra guy for one and girl for the other. There are so many thing inherently wrong about this I can't even begin to articulate them. While on the same topic of threesomes the doppelganger chimes in that she too has had threesomes. ThreesomeS. Plural. Hers too were with same and opposite sex partners. She explained that they happened in the moment, but really how many random threesome opportunities are out there for one person? When I asked if she's ever had anal sex she told me with a straight face she loves it. not all the time, but she loves it. At this point in the evening I'm having aneurisms and flopping around on the floor.
At around 3 someone says we should smoke a blunt. (OK, it was me). So we end up leaving Pinegate N around at . Me and my friend are in the back seat smoking since the two girls, who were previously gung-ho about smoking, decided not to. Good, I didn’t want to share with Fatzilla anyway. After the bowl is all gone I look up to see where we are and the road sign says, Midler 1 Mile. What the fuck you stupid slut, why are we way the fuck out at the blvd? We turned the car around and the driver (who happened to be the ghetto slut) takes a tape (yea, those things before cd’s even though the car is a 2001) and puts it in the deck. What blares forth should have been considered a crime. Spanish rap that repeated phrases like “I want some gasoline”, “I need some gasoline”, and “I have some gasoline”. One song even featured Li’l Jon. There are crimes against humanity every day that go by unnoticed. By now, I was trying to calculate how long it would take me to walk to my car if I bailed out. After heading in the other direction for what seemed like forever I noticed that we were now at the auburn exit of 690. You stupid whore you said you knew where you were going. By now I really gotta piss and am seriously contemplating using the bottle by my feet and leaving the cap fashioned un-securely. You may be thinking why I didn’t speak up when our exits went by. Well, I was too busy grilling the cute one about more sexual endeavors and contemplating what type of life I lead where on a Wednesday night at 330 I'm driving around listening to Spanish rap with a fat ugly girl and my ex’s twin. Sometimes I wonder if the life I lead is even real.
I guess the moral or lesson or whatever is that pretty girls should only have pretty friends. They dont need to be stellar, just not horrendously ugly. If the "Puerto Rican" was replaced by somebody of moderate beauty and intelligence the entire night would have been much better. And theres no doubt that at least my friend would have been laid.
P.S. Did I mention these girls were 18?
Hot and Cold
1. Hand Moisturizer - Nothing feels better on winter scarred hands than Gold Bond Ultimate Healing Skin Therapy Lotion. 7 intesive moisturizers!
2. Putting your shoes over a heat vent for a night - Damn it feels good to put your feet in warm shoes.
3. Skipping a week of class - Want an excuse? Because you can.
1. Shaving your head with a 0 - What?1?!? I said a 1 not a 0! My head looks like a fucking cue ball!
2. Spring - Where the shit are you?
3. Calling Mike Y. Dyke - All traditions must come to an end. I shall now refer to him simply as Y.
Fresh Beats, Tasty Treats
Iron and Wine - Woman King
This song is sick...fresh of his new EP he really released last week or something. Its been awhile since he did all his lo fi stuff, and when he decided to actually record in a studio, he made a smart move by picking Brian Deck to produce, the man behind, among others, Califone. The drums fit in well, really driving the song. He must have done some crazy micing on the drums cause they sound really spacious, if that is the right word. Tie it up with a typical Iron and Wine guitar riff and his amazing voice, and you have some new hotness...
Lemon Jelly - The Staunton Lick
Moving on...Ive been getting into more of the electronic stuff latley...and its hard to wade through all the half cooked trash that is lying around out there, but here is a good track. Lemon Jelly do alot of downtempo type stuff, but what I really like about them is the they dont forget that melody is an important element for good songs, which alot of other people seem to forget. The track starts off with a little instructional intro, then pops in with uptempo bass line and some nicely layed guitar strumming and some horn. Reminds me a little of mid 90s britpop a la the Stone Roses or maybe Blur... good stuff
Lebowski Line of the Day
Hot and Cold
1. 750 ml bottles of red wine - tasty!
2. Wegman's at 2a.m. - Nothing helps me meditate on the singularity of the universe and my place in it like an empty grocery store. Check it out some time.
3. Anything Celluloid - Seriously, how good is film?
1. Hangovers - self explanitory
2. Hilary Swank - This woman is about as talanted as cottage cheese yet somehow has two Oscars sitting on her mantle. Go figure. To me she'll always be Steve's girlfriend Carly from 90210. I never really liked Carly.
3. (Tie) Buffalo, NY and STDs. - This is a tough one....
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Hot and Cold
- Liquied Lunches and or Dinners (if applicable)
- Parkers Mom
- Marlboro Seventy-Twos (Midget Cigs)
- 8:30 classes
The guy downstairs plays shitty music, loudly
PS - I somehow schemed a Teach For America interview, which makes me smile on both the outside and the inside
Best Buy and the Marines
Why did this Marine choose to solicit me? I don't look intimidating, mean, strong -- really, I look nothing like I'd have any interest in killing innocent people at all. I don't take orders very well either. Did he profile me by the stealth-ops killing game a was drooling over? Maybe, but was this why I was so pissed off? Because one facet of my quiet geekiness makes me a target? I don't think so. I left the store in a hurry - fuck the film, I said - and the whole drive home I thought about why I was so mad that I was mildly solicited to join Uncle Sam's club. I almost got into three accidents (don't think and drive!) but I might have figured out why. 1) This guy was gunning for me because some one told him to go out and look for virile young men buying violent video games. It’s like prostitutes going for losers because they’re the easiest prey. 2) That such an order, to me, feels like it comes straight from Bush, and is therefore almost like Bush asking me directly. I don't want Bush to ask me anything. 3) After I walked away I wanted badly to have gotten in some sort of conversation that went something like "No thanks, I don't want to A) die B) kill other people, and C) perform actions A and B for no good reason at all," then he would say "It's for their freedom and ours" and I would say "Yeah! Keep Dreaming Bozo!" and just go super-liberal on him even though I am not actually that liberal, and can’t really complain about living in America. 4) And I know going after community college students yields more positive results than pursuing a conversation with a UB English major, but it also makes me feel like the subtext is that CC students are more expendable, which is sick. 5) My visit to Best Buy was now completely fucked. I couldn't even bring myself to peruse the DVD section, which I swear has never happened to me before. 5.1) Best Buy has lost my nod as “Best Store Ever” because in the back of my mind I will always feel like they were in on it, even though I highly doubt they endorse autonomous solicitation on their premises.
On the upside, if he wasn't stalking the video game section it means the gym has been working for me and I probably have a good war-face if I ever need to use it.
On the downside, I have to think about going back to Wal-Mart for another full day.
Look at me! I'm blogging!
Lebowski Line of the Day
Nerve.com / Blowjobs
It's about a blowjob class. I'm not all that keen on most of this online mag's writing because reading about other people's sexual endevours isn't really my thing, but the AV lounge has some cool interviews, film/book reviews, and there is some sweet photography also, however, in order to see most of the photos you have to pay a monthly charge. Monthly charges are not cool.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
The Flying V
God help us all
Hunter S. Thompson's Final Wish is to Have His Ashes Mixed with a Large Mortar and Shot From a Cannon, Dispersing His Ashes in a Proper Fashion
Good Shit. RIP
I Am Now A BlogStar
Yes I do realize this soung is a touch, well, pussy. It could very well be destined for background music duing the OC, especially when Summer and Cohen get it on hot and sweet next episode, but dammit, his voice is the shit, alot like Jeff Buckley... plus, the piano crecendo at the end saves it from being too sappy I feel