90's Take 1.

I'm going to begin something new. Every week, I'll be spreading the 90's love! Ok. Ok, so I am incredibly excited about this because I love 90's indie (well, basically 87-96).

So first up, a little gem from Camper Van Beethoven and the song, "Good Guys"

I love it because its sooo dated and you can see a glimpse of culture while viewing. it.

Take 1.

Camper's has been around almost 25 years, seen a wide range of internal conflict and had a quick fling with Virgin records. Their song, "The Day Lassie Went to the Moon" is pretty much the reason people should download Telephone Free Landslide Victory. I wonder what kind of drugs they were on when they wrote it. If you're not smiling at least a little by the end of the song, I'm convinced you don't have a soul.

2009, Year of the podcast

2009 was a year full of fluctuation.The year year itself took the form of slinky on the floor, the sort of demonstration you see in Physics 101. You start the movement in the beginning, your wrist creating a soft snap with a fierce wave following. The wave is mirrored all the way down, only losing momentum, quickly, along the way. 2009 appears to have much of the same image. It was a year started with high expectations, a fiery momentum that eventually lost its speed and course. There were high expectations with an election, high expectations for economic woes, high expectations with LGBT community rights and high expectations for ending a war.

While I don't want to delve into the politics of 2009 (although I already did vaguely) I can only go so far to ambitiously coin, 2009: The Year of the Podcast. Because quite honestly, there were very few musical albums that came out that were solid. Last year we had, Bon Iver, MGMT, Vampire Weekend and Beck. All those releases were strong and solid. In short, they met expectations.

So, while I am fully aware that music may not be as important as human rights, or ending a war, I'm merely using it to signify the relation it has to the year's tonality as a whole. Wilco's album fell flat, Yeah Yeah Yeah's album sounded like everything released before it, Phoenix became an anthem for a car commercial and Yo La Tengo released an album that has received mix reviews (by adoring critics and cult fans alike). Even Neil's new release was a disappointment.

However alas! not all was lost! *drumroll* here's my list of 2009.

Note to reader: (I am missing many, many, many. I admittedly, unlike my at-the-time-boo, am not the keenest, hippest cat around. And everything new is juxtaposed directly with 90's noise and flawed perfection, because that's just who I am. But the 7 albums (in no particular order) are, for the most part, well done and hold an intrinsic place in 2009 and my life, since, I am just hip enough to assign certain memories with music. ..)

*Madeline Adams "White Flag" (the title song "White Flag" touches so many levels beyond description) and with this album, Madeline fought her way beyond the cutesy singer/song writer box.

*Animal Collective- Merriweather Post Pavillion. It's no "Feels" but its still damn good. If you've never painted to Animal Collective, I'd suggest it. I've also listened to this roadtripping to the Portland area to calm myself.

*Dirty Projectors-Bitte Orca- They were in The New Yorker! (believe me I was just as surprised when I found them, tucked quietly away near the back of the magazine) and this might be, the best album of 2009.

*The Antlers- In the Attic of the Universe- because sometimes, you just need some ambience. Noted, track 8, "Stairs to the Attic"

*The Avett Brothers- And I and Love and You. Apparently, this was all the rage in Canada. I've heard the title track so many times driving to Blaine in the past two months, some of the only time I've had to myself. All I had was open road and my thoughts.

*Jay-z Blueprint III-A Commercial success and still just as solid as the Black Album.

*Grizzly Bear- Veckatimest- Nothing sums up my summer more than the song "Two Weeks." Fish, orca whales,

missing people, post-graduation confusion and seasickness.

So, with a lack of memorable album releases, I coin 2009: The Year of the Podcast. For reasons, unknown but only hypothesized to me, podcasts made a huge increase in download and play.

Mentionable podcasts:

-This American Life- Ira Glass's voice is so sexy and alluring. mmm Ira.

-The Moth-People's stories told live and unedited by a nonprofit in New York. Probably my favorite podcast.

-Storylife-

-Don't Quit Your Day Job-

-For Women. By Women.

-New Yorker: Fiction & Out Loud-

Best album artwork: Camera Obscura (this artwork is AMAZING) & The Antlers (the colors and image fit the songs with a certain natural ease)

Cheers, 2009, the year of the slinky wave.

<3 Christmas Music

Recently in the zoo of consumer-last-minute-gift-buying I heard Bruce Springsteen in the dollar store. I immediately started dancing in the aisles with the tinsel. When all else fails just add Bruce Springsteen's "Santa Claus is Coming to Come", Bob Seger's "The Little Drummer Boy". Also heard today, The Carpenters "Merry Christmas Darling" & Frank Sinatra's "White Christmas".

Coming Clean

Digital Literacy and Blogging.

Back in '08 I took a class that required blogging. Yes. Scholars are studying the shift in communication via digital literacy. The printing press changed the way the human cognition understood words (words being seen and not just heard) and thus by access to words, created greater percentages of literacy. Words became accessible! They became a visual stimulus. Hypertext is much the same. Except it takes this visual stimulus a step further, it is interactive, tangible, mailable, in a way that linear printed text is not.

What does this have to do with you? Well, you're reading my blog. You're partaking in the shift. The internet is redefining cultural paradigms. Ah-ha!

I don't have the theories or any concrete answer (which is fitting in a pomo social setting) . I just know that right now, we are in a grand cultural shift. And, now I come clean. Back in 08 I wrote a paper about the idea of social alienation, digital literacy and blogs.

http://dafunkmastameowmeow.blogspot.com/2008/02/alienation-shown-through-in-weblogs.html

Ok. So I was also 20 at the time I wrote this, just getting into my discipline. It has its obvious rhetorical problems but still contained meaty ideas. It should be noted, I ended the entire essay with Flight of the Conchords video.

So really, I ask you to just take a moment to think about what it is you look for when reading a blog, what does it mean when you write a blog? It is not a journal (though some huge ego's treat it as such) and should it, or could it actually have the potential to effectively communicate an idea outside of your own experience-- negating political blogs, that is just too easy.

Fuck. You. American. Apparel./Much Love Yo La Tengo.

Post Preface: I realize my blogs have been scattered, subjective and kind of awful as of late. I don't want to be one of those bloggers (if I continue to blog) that writes about shit that no one cares about or that little or no one cares about (blog to come about blogging soon) so I'm working on it. But in the meantime on with the scattered!!

----

I've never bought anything from American Apparel. After speaking to a friend of mine and then reading up on their ethical practices, I am completed disgusted by them. Completely.

http://clamormagazine.org/issues/38/aa/straub.php


1-Ok, honestly, I've never bought anything except sexy objectifying underwear for a male, which I was totally ok with at the time. However now I realize the apparent flaws and hypocrisy in doing so-- 18 and ignorant.

Sidenote I could go on an incredibly verbose, pretentious rant. But, I won't. It's the holidays and the last thing I want to think about is sexism. So TO END

YO LA TENGO is fucking fantastic. They were so self aware of their place within 90's indie.

S^3 Sleep. Sasquatch.Stomach

I need sleep, desperately. I'm clinging to inordinate amounts of caffeine thus, my stomach is starting to hate me. I hope I can keep my cool with small children today at a Holiday party.Fuck.Fuck.Fuck.
However I received an e- greeting card today and it had sasquatch in it.
Sasquatch=completely hilarious.

I have no idea how I'm going to power through, I just know I have no choice. Sasquatch, furry beast of the northwest.

Academia

My friend recently graduated from college, a college he didn’t really want to be in, a degree he doesn’t really felt he earned and his own complacency was only aided with the angst he’s basked in since I remember him. Regardless of his feelings, spending four years developing your mind and learning is a beautiful, beautiful thing worthy of celebration. I’m in the mindset that earning money is easy (not that there is ever enough to live comfortably or that working is easy) but being able to spend time challenging yourself, pushing your intellectual capacity, growing is one of the hardest yet rewarding things a person can do. Graduation from a university deems, at least, a small recognition. (Note: I know that this also carries more than its share of classicism)
I arrive, homemade chili in hand (delicious homemade chili) and as I walk up the stairs to his very small studio above a bar, I can hear the bass from the music penetrate the floor. I think about how this is contrasted by the quiet I find in my own home. We eventually settle and realize that we are missing one key piece, celebratory champagne.

We leave the thumpa-thumpa of his apartment and walk to the co-op downtown. This brings an air of nostalgia and a subtle reminder of change. I buy the champagne, making small talk with the attractive hippie chic man scanning my groceries, a practiced keen wit perfected with time and practice. I shove the bottle in my purse and we walk back to his apartment. As my boots hit the hardwood floor and echo, I hear Jay-Z “99 problems” push its way through the thin mahogany.

Fast forward to an empty champagne bottle and The Beatle’s “Thinking for Yourself” with his ukulele solo of “I will Survive” and the thumpathumpa of Lady Gaga. I think his neighbors must hate us, they must hear everything. There is an old man next door who was pleasant with suspenders. He must hate us the most.

Here I must mix in a conversation about the ignorance of American culture. He yells, “Vice magazine represents all that is wrong with American culture!” and I slur, “Yessssssssssss!! YESYESYES!” and fall back into my chair with a predicted stupor.(See post about Vice magazine)
http://gogorunifyoucan.blogspot.com/2009/11/oh-romania.html

Mountain.

The other day I went on an adventure on a county road and took this sa-weet picture of Baker at sunset. I think I *might* finally understand my digital camera. It will however, never take pictures like my Canon.

In a recent conversation, in which you clearly know the question you pose to the other party & the other party answers, knowing full well you were asking with a subtle basis of judgment . They now suddenly feel pressure to answer accordingly.

I asked them what kind of music they felt they enjoyed listening to.

Let me just say here that I don't want to be a pretentious asshole but I know I'm going to sound like one

And their response was the most unique I have ever received. Usually people feel the need to create either a really hip honest answer or they just answer with really predictable manners, like, "Well, mostly indie stuff" or "Underground hiphop and jazz fusion" or "KANYE!" or "Lady GaGa, because she's just so Euro-trash and original." etc. etc.

But instead, they said that there was a tranquility that is found in silence. They then answered the question. Which was really an ingenious way to answer a question by posing music's unsaid enemy silence-- because really music covers silence. In a way you can never have music and silence at the same time. So doesn't that make them enemies, in a strictly figurative sense? In relation to this, silence, at least for myself and many people I know covers loneliness. However, at the end of the day you have to embrace the comfort of silence no matter what record you are playing or what music playlist is on your computer.

It then progressed to a discussion of Bon Iver. I told him that I read somewhere that listening to Bon Iver was like being able to read and feel a person's most intimate moments. That there is nothing more honest than a singer with a guitar/instrument. It is raw, uninhibited by other's subjective input and in that simplicity, honesty is so clear. While I enjoy the complexities of bands (such as dirty projectors) they don't seem to be as honest as Neil Young or Bon Iver. Keep it simple.

-----

Two movies you should see,

Coco Before Chanel
This movie is almost flawless and perfect. The characterization, acting and as usual the cinematography is beautiful. The use of aperture and depth of field is something I idolize when I take photographs. It almost made me cry in the theatre. I always knew that Coco Chanel built an empire (when that was almost unheard of for a woman) and defined a lot of the constructs of the 'modern' women, free from the constructs of clothing (and thus symbolically free from the male's dominating force shown through beauty constructs) It was incredibly beautiful and sad.



Les Miserables (1998; directed by Billie August)



Ok. The trailer is a little cheesy but Liam Neeson in an epic power struggle with Geoffrey Rush? So good.

Do Make Say Think was probably one of the best instrumentals groups to come out of the late 90's... not only does their sound prove it but so does this video. teddy bears drinking+poker+cigarettes? Fantastic!

-----

Move over Ira Glass.

I can't help it. After trying to watch "Sense and Sensibility," (Just, don't. Trust me.) I realized that after a one of the scenes Alan Rickman is a goddamn fox! Not only is he incredibly engaging and hilarious, he is intelligent, witty and has the goddamn sexiest voice I've ever heard. I think he's perfect. I came to this conclusion because I'm trying to get my boyfriend to watch "Love Actually" with me-- the only romantic comedy I find appealing and I've realized it is solely for the reason that I am in love with Alan Rickman. He can even go on The View and make subtle commentary and witticisms with the audience and the middle aged women oogling him.

Julian Casablancas in an incredibly awkward interview in which he successfully does not name drop The Strokes once.

Fun with Sexism

While out last night at dinner and older man offered to take a photo of our table. There were quite a few of us. After taking the picture, with his wife standing by his side, he said, “Every once in a while, I need to be reminded what young women look like.” His wife’s face grimaced. He then proceeded to tell us a joke as his wife was pulling him out the door. It was as follows:

There were three old men on a beach, on that same beach there happened to be a lovely women in a bikini. She was beautiful. She was sexy and alluring. One man said, “I would love to kiss her and hug her…(long pause) and oh wait, what was that other thing we used to do?” The other two men looked quizzically at one another.


After telling us, our table erupted in tequila induced laughter. I then looked over at his wife who was clearly not amused. She pulled him away, dragging him by his elbow away from our table.

As my grandmother so aptly said on thanksgiving, “Men will always think with their penis." My grandfather proved this statement later that night when he said, "Oh! I remember Peggy Lee when she used to be a virgin."

So I'm currently sitting in SEATAC airport and let me tell you something, I am terrified of flying. Let me tell you something else, I am also fascinated by the idea of flight itself. Such a life of paradox- of contrast-of juxtaposition (and other $3 words) On one hand, I think that if humans were meant to actually fly and move at such a fast pace, we'd be able to. However, since we cannot it is absolutely amazing that we invented a way to do so. Thumbs up for human advancement.

So this morning, as I was taking off, I looked out the window and realized that the whole idea of space/time totally got fucked when flying started becoming prominent. I guess what I mean by prominent is really just the middle class and their access to flying. After a heated discussion on whether or not I should go greyhound-- I've learned that flying is a middle class ordeal. And I'm middle class (Thanks mum 'n dad) I would not go home greyhound. Let me tell you why:

My friend visited me three years ago. Her visit was awesome, her ride home was not. While sitting in her seat, about the middle of the state (while she was trying to sleep) the man sitting next to her tried to put his hand down her pants…several times. I'm not going to go into detail here and there's not going to be any imagery. For this reason and this reason alone, I do not want to go greyhound. I also think most greyhounds look bulimic. However, this is besides the point.

So back to the idea of space/time (as both ideas bask in their intangibility)-- post-Globalization (And yes, I would argue that the world has hit a post-Global stage, but that's for another blog, another drunken blog) So think about the idea of space before flying. Space, in its its ideal form was larger. To get across country it took at least a day. Ok, let me explain, traveling over space in relation to time was also larger. Space=distance (stagnant) but the time was longer. While the numerical miles still remained the same the rate of travel decreased, greatly.With this lessening rate, the whole idea of space/time got fucked. (But, historically with travel space/time is kind of a whore, so I don't think they minded really). This is what happens at 650am when the plane is flying the sun is rising and you're thinking about human progress.

As I'm sitting here, now, in the airport I'm noticing that a)there are mostly white people in the airport b)the white people look bored, even though they know they'll be waiting around c)half of the people are holding Starbucks cups and d)even the people who seem to know one another are not speaking to one another, but people who seem to be complete strangers seem to want to strike up conversation. Example: A very hip kid, wearing buddy holly glasses, with tussled light brown hair, tight jeans, looking very greyhound bulimic chic came up to me and started talking about a blog I was reading. It was 8 am. I've had 2 hours sleep and I don't want to talk to him. Like most of the people in this airport who are sitting there, I don't have a friendly face on. I have the fuck-I-wish-I-was-in-bed-goddamn-the-idea-of-space/time look. Even while I was typing this a man come up to me and wanted to talk about my Macbook. I answered him. Nicely! Such facades! Such obligatory social nature!

Sadly, now, however, I'm not resembling a greyhound bohemian, bulimic chic hipster and I'm not very good at telling people to fuck off, but I hear space/time is pretty good at it, or perhaps rather just fucking with travel as its whore tagging alongside.

Time for a nap.

That new Beck/Charolotte Gainsborg song has been driving me nuts. I don't like to NOT understand (or at least theorize) the use of rhetoric. So a little time and with a a little wine (a lot) and I've finally figured out what the fuck is going on in the video. Or what I think is going on.

I know, I know you don't care. But come on! Theorizing things that are not tangibly real is so fun! No seriously! Come on!

It's a complex video with the simplest message just about life-- in its everyday form. Sure, they show the absurd, but the lyrics focus on images that you see everyday, greyhounds, escalades, elevators... so it is really just about existing between heaven and hell, which is well, here. It seems so simple! The contrast of the video/lyrics really created so much juxtaposition I became confused.

Which leads me to reaffirm that beauty is found in the everyday. I know, I know, glass half full bull, but, I drank the other half. I'm a firm believer that if you surround yourself with beautiful things/places you will be happier. Aesthetic movement++++ totally rad and leads to happiness (with a side of consumerism and Orientalism at its finest!)

http://www.buffaloah.com/f/fstyles/aes/aes.html

Sidenote: I think Charlotte is particularly pretty, in a very French way.... as is Alain Delon. This should be noted only because I was talking about aesthetics and his subtle sexuality. Thanks France...

Music Video

This video was obviously very well thought out. I personally, have no idea what it really means. Leave it to Beck (and Charlotte, the woman from the Science of Sleep1) to create something vaguely resembling avant garde. Or rather, something with bathtubs full or cereal and milk, cops tackling spongebob and other such random occurances

The songs chaotic lyrics match the chaotic video.

Thumbs up.

1- In a recent interview Charlotte described how she received her motivation and inspiration from an MRI machine's noise. I'll leave the judgment up to you.

The story of El Gato Negro

I’m holding a painting for my friend in my trunk. He has deemed it “El Gato Negro” which literally translates from Spanish to English as to “The Black Cat.” It is cumbersome, probably about 3 feet by 2.5 feet. I cannot describe its utterly awesome ugly aesthetic properly. It’s velvet. It’s a bobcat. He placed it in my trunk this past weekend while we were out as to not have to carry it around the city. There is nothing like black velvet with a yellow bobcat oversized art piece to capture attention as we meander around.

I then insisted he put it in my trunk. With much hesitation and a five minute lecture on the importance of El Gato Negro, he succumbed, closing the trunk, the black cat stored safely inside. “If anything happens to my El Gato Negro, I will never forgive you.” We walk away from my car, forgetting about El Gato Negro for the rest of the night.

I had not thought about El Gato Negro until it popped open my trunk on 1-5 and almost fell out onto the freeway this morning. Let me explain.

I was driving, carelessly really, (I’m a self-prescribed ‘bad’ driver). I’m staring straight ahead, singing along to E.L.O. It was cloudy, I was tired, the drive is practiced and redundant. I notice that people are looking at me as they drive by with panicked faces; the kind of panic that is both incredibly hilarious and confusing. One man with a mustache in a truck looked at me, looked down and stroked his mustache and pointed at my car. The Semi truck behind me flashed its high beams.

At this, point I’m trying to figure out what the hell is going on. My car is ok, everything is running smoothly. I look in my rear view mirror. I see El Gato Negro hanging over the edge. Oh. Shit. Literally, the large velvet is snagged on a part of my trunk and is just hanging onto the trunk. “If anything happens to El Gato Negro I will never forgive you.”

I slow down, there is a fine balance that has to happen so El Gato Negro does not fall out and cause chaos on 1-5. People pass. I can only imagine what must have been going through their mind, on route to work as they see El Gato Negro dangling from my trunk, its ugly magnificence out for everyone to see.
I take the nearest exit and park in McDonald’s parking lot. I get out of my car, stare at El Gato Negro and take it and shove it in my backseat. At this point, I’m pretty sure I’m going to donate it to Dot’s café in Portland. The décor there is textured velvet, as are the walls. I also hate El Gato Negro. Yes, you heard me, hate.

Moral of the story, don’t take prized art possessions and say you will keep them safe. A bobcat is fierce, a 3x2.5 ft velvet bobcat dubbed, “El Gato Negro” is fierce enough to try and escape the confides of my secured trunk.

People LIKE Lady Gaga?!

Ok, I'm not going to be a pretentious music snob. But, I just don't get it.

She's trashy.

If I were her father, I'd be ashamed.

She doesn't have strong lyrical content! Ah! It's like reading an 8th graders diary.

I don't even think she'd sound good if I was high....

On an aesthetic note, one of her outfits reminds me of a post-Wizard of Oz-tin-woman-porno gone awry.

Harsh Words, maybe.

But, she could pick attractive men to objectify in her videos (not that it makes it right...but it would be a lie to say it doesn't help, a little) Hell, even Gwen Stefani got that one down.

So Lady Gaga, I just don't see it.

How Furry

Dirty Laundry

I should probably be putting away my laundry right now. However, thoughts are distracting and so is blogging (note: rant on blogging to come, soon)

It was five years ago I was fighting through the whipping wind (alliteration, nice eh?) to class at EWU. I'd walk down the hill from my dorm, past the PUB, past the library, past the strange artistic fountain at the 'campus mall' (other feelings of nostalgia) and go to class. I'd sit there and then go back to my dorm and eat greasy food. That feels like a different lifetime (other cliche coming of age statements)

(I found this picture I took- a View Science Building EWU)

I'm going through a deep seeded nostaglia, only because I am rebuilding my music library from scratch. I have a terrible personal memory, I often wonder how do I distinguish reality from memory, or does that even exist? I think that is one of those deeply troubling questions that I will always struggle with.

So I was putting away my laundry today. I recently downloaded Rogue Wave into my music library. Aside from seeing them in concert (so good) I had forgotten how much I listened to this, how much this album saw (if in fact, music could see things).

As I sit here, my clothes piling up on my bed, the same clothes I had in fact, five years ago (I hate shopping) and I can't help but realize that music is one of the only things that makes me remember things I've forgotten.

Highly egotistical blog/end.

Ta-da

Fragments.

Preface: A Dialogue I recently had. Also, I think the prefaces I am writing are kind of pretentious.
Sorry. I will stop doing them, because they are kind of pretentious.

-
"I don't know why we stay in one place"

"Comfort.Predictability, the idea of being safe. It's easy to be stationary"

"Oh my god. The walls are soft!"

"what?!"

"You know, safety is overrated and comfort is an allusion"

--

Ok, so picture a bar dimly light with blue hues.
Picture 5 girls sitting in the said bar drinking beer.

Picture Jimmy Hendrix playing above. Picture soft walls that are gold with velvet texture. The walls are literally faux velvet, so are all of the pictures in the bar.

The more beer you drink the more you realize that a) safety really is overrated and comfort is an allusion b) Jimmy Hendrix is really fucking good c) You can't stop feeling the walls and people probably think you dropped some E.

---

Fast forward 18 hours, picture yourself in a 'gun library' (w.t.f.) the demographic is mostly all white-- the middle aged men roam around upstairs with the camo gear, hunting supplies, camping essentials, a wide array of bullets. Suddenly you (or I) realize that a) guns kill things and that is a weird moral dilemma b)I am the only unmarried female between the ages of 20-35 in the entire store c)There are dead stuffed animals everywhere and suddenly, you have a strong urge to go to a zoo and take pictures of everything you see.

So while wandering around Cabela's in Lacey, WA, I decided that I don't like hunting (killing things for the sake of killing things as a game is a weird concept) and that I am also going to the zoo, am going to take pictures of things I see and I will never, really understand people.

Speaking of photography and things people see-

http://triangletriangle.com/

Hey, thanks Sun.

Preface:
Fuck prefaces.

Driving home the other day I couldn't help but notice how fucking beautiful my surroundings are. There is an old saying, "Nature is perfect."
I think it might be the closest to perfection we can obtain,
Ok, ok, I think I'm going to go hug a tree.
Grow a beard
Smoke a Joint
Talk about hemp

La blogotheque

Preface: It's no secret that la blogotheque is *amazing*--beyond description of words. But, just in case you have yet to see these videos, well, here's your chance....

Yo La tengo - A Take Away Show - Part 1 from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

Yo La Tengo - A Take Away Show - Part 2 from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

And, finally, my favorite song from 08... it's one of the most honest pieces of art I have witnessed in a long time, goddamn Bon Iver.

Oh, Romania.

Preface: Because that’s the new pattern I’m trying to start here. I figure if I’m going to write a blog, if I’m going to allow complete strangers (faux strangers, people I actually know via REAL social contact, random robots, etc, etc.) I should at least, try to create a format. Preface to Preface: I will start a format.

Real Preface: This article reminds me while I have vague flickers of being a stereotype,(Vice magazine! Sooo hip!) Despite me reading hip, cool, white people magazines, I will never, ever, be as culturally insensitive as this person.

http://www.viceland.com/blogs/en/2009/11/02/hitchhiking-through-video-game-territory-of-romania/

After reading this article; a clearly affluent white male traveling to Romania to discover the inner landscaping of …Zelda (but is really more of a narrative of his adventure) I am completely stunned that this would actually get published. In fact, I’m a little offended. The jokes are only comedic, based off of age-old Post-Cold War stereotypes, communism/capitalism, poverty, a primitive culture (lacking modernization and pushing the ideal of the ‘modern’ on to other cultures) and finally, the complete lack-of respect for the ‘punk’ women he hitchhikes with and the Romanian culture in general via language, history, politics…
One positive aspect, his photos, probably taken with a snap and shoot automatic digital camera, are decent and capture, an honest glimpse into Romanian life.

Luddite II

Preface to reader: This blog sounds incredibly materialistic. A dash of a whiny tone, repetitive rhythm and a word choice that has the effect-- reminiscent of the lulling cry of a teething baby *you know, the way in which you become accustomed to a certain sound, and don't recognize it anymore--I think this blog has the same effect*

I have no music. My Luddite tendencies are out in full force, stronger than anything physics can prove, including gravity, even in its simplest Newtonian theory. (Physics, pff!)

Let me paint the picture, with words (Imagery!!)

I was sitting in my room, on the floor. I have this amazing 'oriental' style carpet (1), the patterns a dream for anyone tripping on acid. A dream for me even when I'm not.
So as I was laying and thinking and thinking and then laying, I realized that it would be perfect timing for The Who's "Tommy." Note, because this album is largely, ( all) a concept, album, it is hard to find the right 'time' to listen to it.
I mean, some records you listen to just one or two songs, strictly side A or side B. I cannot do this with The Who's "Tommy."

I grab the vinyl, place it on the turntable and wait. Ok, I sound like a hipster douche- but I mean, you know when the music is just right with your mood. I was so excited to hear the opening of 'overture' and its blend into 'its a boy'. I wait. I wait. I wait some more. I look down at the strangely patterned carpet.

Silence.
I see the needle touch the record, I see the record spinning. More silence.

I get up. I look at the record. Again, I see it spinning, I see the needle touch the record. I don't know anything about my record player or why it's not working. I wonder why I continually hear nothing. (if nothing itself actually existed)

So, in a vain attempt to troubleshoot, I grab my computer. Not only to lull the silence, but to, somehow find the "lexmark" record player model on google.

I go to turn on my computer. My legs sitting criss-cross (jump jump!) ontop of the carpet, the computer in front. I press the power button. Nothing, not even a glimmer of technological screen. I spew a slew of expletives! My computer is dead! (dead implies it actually had to be living... but in this case, and after several late nights, my attachment to my computer, which I've dubbed, Toshiba, and characterized it in many of my essays, is so strong, I believe it is fair to say, it is dead. I mean for Christ's sake, this computer help me write my thesis!)

Now, this not only means that
a) I have no computer, thus no last-resort itunes music
b) No record player
which means,
c) no music. nada. sounds of silence? No, not even Simon or Art can save me.

And now, you might be thinking, "Why, how are you writing this blog?"
Magic.


And, yes, I might very well be sitting on my floor ontop of the oriental, drug tripping carpet.

(1) I hate the idea of calling anything Oriental, because that words is incredibly culturally loaded. I used it anyway just because its part of the greater cultural collective memory. And yes, that explanation makes me sound even more like a bigger hipster douche. But hey, my grandma still refers to anyone of asian descent Oriental and Said's ideas of the "Orient" and "Orientalism?"-- totally legit.

Bach up, it's all about space and some lit!

Cello Suite No. 1 Prelude - Bach
Inbetween the completely bourgeoisie classical stations in the middle of nowhere-- the audiobook I was listening to had this quote, "One never reaches home, but wherever friendly paths intersect the whole world looks like home for a time."

Words, Image, Sound--> Multimedia >A unique, fitting, Postmodern Experience

ayi, ayi, ayi...

UNRELATED SIDENOTE:
I am pretty sure my new office is hella haunted-- or someone is going in there with the LOCKED door and moving my things around.

Best blog. ever.

This blog would be what I would aspire my blog to be:
http://cableandtweed.blogspot.com/


So rad! Music, Comics, Pop Culture-- and totally nerdy.

now, every time I re-read my blog (a vain attempt at proofing it, psshshhaa) I automatically scroll down to the picture of Louis Garrell. My last post- totally fragmented and full of errors but I don't even care! Louis's sexy is infringing upon my writing. Sick. This is a problem. I. Am. Vain.

If music had meaning??

I was driving home today.
It was incredibly rainy.
I was listening to Death Cab, (I know, I know totally cliche)

Sometimes I don't give a fuck if I'm being cliche.

I was driving and I was thinking.
I popped in an old mix I made.
R.E.M song's The One I Love" came on.
Incredibly fucking amazing break-up song.
It's so angry.
So passionate.

Then I remembered this excellent little gem:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSuHrTfcikU
(the embedding was disabled)

Speaking of love, I just watched "the beautiful people" a french film tracking the temporary nature of relationships. The movie, I could appreciate, perhaps because I understand the temporal nature of change.
However, I appreciate even more:

Oh, hot damn...

Hey, that's a snowman

I.Can't.Wait.For.Snow.
And Hot toddies.
Chocolate.
Presents.
Spooning while watching holiday themed movies.



I just watched, "Frosty the Snowman" out of sheer nostalgia and i melted inside.
I also noticed that there are a lot of funny things here- the teacher is frumpy, the magician has a mustache (sterotypes of mustaches being villians!) and-- apparently, all of the children are white in public schools.
But, I mean, Gene Autry's rugged voice paired with deep seeded nostalgia, merely a means for internal feelings of contentment.

Grab My Goat.

Goats have been a recent motif in my life as of late



.
And yes, this picture does say, 'Teat' & 'PropARTganda'. (how fucking clever!) Wait. If you didn't read all the labels of the parts of a goat- I suggest you go back and at least find the tassle.

Goat Motifs:

While driving to an elementary school I saw a hand-made wooden white silhouette of a goat, labeled, "Cashmere Goats" an below that in stenciled blue writing, "Kids for Sale"

This is incredibly hilarious because from far away it just looks like an oddly shaped "Kids for Sale" sign out in the country sprawl.

While getting the mail four days ago, I hear an animal sound. You know, the kind of animal sound that takes a suburban-sprawler by surprise. It wasn't a crow, or a squirrel on the roof, or even the lulling bark of a dog. I grab the mail look over into my neighbors back yard, or rather, *plot of land* and see small goats staring at me with incredibly beady black eyes. Their pupils are alarming and strangely sideways.

Then, today while I was paroozing online-- because I managed to find some time for sanity in the 9 to 5, I read....

THAT THE MOUNTAIN GOATS ARE COMING TO SEATTLE.
IN NOVEMBER.
Now, they tour a lot, but I have never, not even once, seen them live.




I am ecstatic. Not only because that band picture has composition of the cows/awesome corduroy hipster jacket, but because I hate November. It is my least favorite month. It's cold, summer's over, life is settling down to short days and long nights-- (other cliche unimportant aspects not worth complaining about) but, I plan on seeing "where the wild things are" and trying to see the mountain goats in concert AND not to mention, my job is going to settle way the fuck down-- November might be the month that steals the show, considering 2009 has been a strange year indeed.



It should also be noted that I will pay proper homage to the Garbage goat, for sucking on my garbage, so incredibly hard and fast...

Tell me whats wrong here

The main headline of CNN.com reads,
World watches odyssey of 'Balloon Boy'

The top world stories, written in small text, to the right of the "Balloon Boy" story read:

• Pakistan attacks militant hideouts
• Far-right UK party to consider non-whites
• U.N. panel debates Gaza War report
• Strike protests job cuts in Puerto Rico
• More than 1 billion going hungry, U.N. says
• 2,500 seek release of U.S. hikers held in Iran
• Africa's Lake Chad withering, U.N. agency says

Let's take a step back and analyze the dynamics of media coverage...

My own handyman + scholar

So in the last week I had to fix my dishwasher and I had to defrost my refrigerator.

I feel like my own handyman, even though our handyman is really hot and speaks french. (no, I'm not kidding)
I don't speak french and I am not a hot male, so I cannot replace him.
But! Both appliances are working, so thats a plus?



Today, I also realized that I love what I'm doing, I really love book & I miss literature. I had to deliver something to the old English offices, and, I realized how much of a void is in my life because I am not reading books and theorizing their context. I MISS POSTMODERNISM! I MISS POST COLONIAL STUDIES. I MISS GENDER REPRESENTATION.

Being a professional student would be *so* awesome.

inappropriate

Ok, so if I am looking at this right-- There's a boy, who is using his mother's dress to dress a blowup doll...
This is wrong and hilarious on so many levels.

MONEY hole

I thought about this today picking pumpkins and remembered how hilarious I found 'the money hole'

OH. EE. DEE.

I love the Oxford English Dictionary.

While it's a heavy and debatable question, I think knowledge comes from consciousness. Human consciousness is formed by a desire to communicate. Communication is formed through words. Yeah?

So, in a way, epistemology, for me, is linked to the historical context of English words.
I love theorizing the context and cultural content behind a single word. Each word we speak, we think, we use, everyday, can be coated and analyzed with a historical context.

This is where the OED comes in.
I found that there is no word between 'lost'/'found' that something is either lost or found. There are no words to describe the in between. What happens if something is neither lost or found? The fact that so many words are described in a strict binary form, really speaks volumes about the thought patters English speaking countries. I mean, we thrive on the idea of one or the other, with no spectrum of in between.

Also, the word 'solitude' is derived from the latin root, "Solus" which means, "Single or alone" The english word was first used in 1374, by Chaucer, "She hath so grete compassion on her knyght, That dwelleth in solitude til she come" I just think the context of that particular word is beautiful. It was used in comparison or contrast to be together.

I just think the fact we can learn so much about culture through words is so fascinating.

----------------------
Sidenote: Fall colors?

?!!

someone, please, tell me how this isn't homoerotic.
http://www.plaidstallions.com/

(Cliche opening statement)
As fall is approaching (rhetorical link to photo) I can't help but strongly desire hot toddies.

In my family, anything hot and alcoholic is considered a 'hot toddy.'
We aren't picky.


----
I heard the new Vampire Weekend single today--
I don't know how I really feel about it. For me the melodic and slightly poppy music fits well with sun, summer, beaches, sunsets-- so the timing is a little off. Releasing the CD in the dead of winter? Maybe it will provide a pick-me-up amidst the rain and the gray.
http://www.vampireweekend.com/

Seexxxy.

This weeks This American Life is titled, "The Book That Changed Your Life" a re-run from Oct. 99.

Ira Glass talking about books! Oh. God, Ira.

http://www.thisamericanlife.org/Radio_Episode.aspx?episode=137

WILD THANGGGS & Other books & a CD.

I know I've said this before, but I will say it again, I am so incredibly excited for the movie "Where the Wild Things Are" It touches on something intricately woven into my own childhood nostalgia.

It looks so well done, besides the tender place it holds in my heart.



So this got me thinking about other books my parents used to read to me when I was little. The one that stuck out in my mind was 'The Talking Eggs' a story derived from a Louisiana Creole Folktale. It's all about finding beauty in ugliness and reaching your potential despite external circumstances. Amazing.

Then, there was 'The Giver' the book solely responsible for showing me the beauty of words and literature.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Giver
I won't rant on about this book, I just know that it was incredibly important to me.


-----

Heartless Bastards.

The first album I have listened to that is considered 'indie' while touching on the beauty of imperfection and rawness. It is also wonderful to paint to or have it as background music. Plus the lead singer, Erika Wennerstrom has a really unique deep, rough voice that I love. Her lyrics are something that I can identify with. The song "Hold Your Head High" was pretty much the reason I survived the summer.
So, I'm not going to review it because that's just not my style, but I would highly suggest just giving it a listen, just once. I think its good, very good.

pine trees

I climbed part of a canyon. I just saw it and made it a goal to climb it.

I got up early enough to watch the sun rise over the hills that were full of empty spaces with sparse pine trees. I never realize how much I truly miss the idea of empty space until I am surrounded by it.

We couldn't find a trail so three of us climbed up a 45 degree incline for an hour to get to the top. It was awesome, A) because it was completely silent, and B)I realized that if you make a goal to do something, you just have to do it. Climbing that high at that steep of angle with no path was really, really intense at 7am but totally worth it.


Since my posts have been kinda verbose and culturally intense, here are some beautiful pictures. Hiking this was infinetly better than the usual cup of coffee.

and the other side of the ridge/canyon

Hey now.

Recently while in the car a song by Easy-E came on a mix.
It was blatantly disgusting, demeaning, derogatory and objectifying towards women.
Obviously I had a problem with this. I do not understand how people do not have a problem with this.

And I've started to wonder why misogyny is prevalent in rap. And, the music industry as a whole. Because, lets face it, every genre, especially country, rap and rock seeps objectification. Not all, but an argument can definitely be made for each popularized genere.

So, instead of getting angry at the music itself, I had to ask why.

What form of masculinity is being proven by these lyrics and clear disregard and disrespect for women? Why do men feel the need to overtly sexualize women continually?

I focused my research on rap music, specifically, gansta rap. After reading a slew of scholarly articles, I've decided that those in marginalized social positions have to assert their dominance to align themselves with the prevalent social power (white males). Since women are below men in the power hierarchy, asserting and reaffirming the objectification strengthens the gender hierarchy futher. In westernized countries, especially America Men of minority have more prevalent power than women. Historically, black males had the right to vote, the right to property and other legal rights, all before women of any race.
Still, this doesn't made it ok, or right.

The 3oh!3 song has underlying themes about rape and submission to the dominant male force. In the end, I guess, the fact that 14 year old boys hear this song on the radio and don't realize the underlying ideas behind it makes me incredibly angry. The fact that its even on the radio disgusts me altogether. So, objectification of women in musical content?

Completely repulsive. There's no way around it. There's no way to hide it or make it morally sound. I know that a) a white women and b)a staunch feminist I have a biased perspective. I just don't think I should have to be ok with the fact that representations of women are out there & they're completely degrading to my gender.

And now, some Bikini Kill.

Eco.

"The novel's literal level almost sports the pacing of a thriller as Yambo pieces his past together, and on a more metaphysical level, it addresses provocative and never outdated or irrelevant questions about the integrity of one's identity and the irresistible attempt to estimate, while still a part of the community of the living, one's lasting imprint on the global slate." (Brad Hopper, Review Booklist)


I just completed 100 years of solitude. I rarely ever finish a book, I mean, really read and savor every word, but the rhetoric flowed like poetry. But, the book itself is so incredibly beautiful. After completion, I wondered how I would ever be able to read a book that beautiful again. I honestly haven't read something that well done since Les Miserables. Sometimes, I wish I could re-read a book and experience it for the first time again, to experience the world, ideas, characters and rhetoric/syntax all over again. To see a beautiful work of art unfold right before my eyes and in my head. Human creativity is so wonderful. And. I wonder if we become less aware of the beauty around us because we become so accustomed to it. We see beautiful things everyday if we can just look for them.

Realizing this, I didn't want to read another book for a while. I wanted to let the words sit and I wanted the ideas to savor, that is, until I picked up The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana. I'm fascinated with the ideas of 'the modern' the 'postmodern' and the (arguably) post-postmodern cultural representations of art/literature.This book incorporates fragmented structure, images to words/description and is divided into parts with chapters inside. The whole is completed by small parts in non-sequential order. Oh, postmodern, how I love you!

And, I have to wonder what a book will be in the next 50 years.
I think people forget that humans, on a wide scale, have only have the ability to be literate since the invention of the printing press, a mere 500-600 years. The written word is relatively new on a global scale. Words were spoken, not written. They were sounds people made to convey their thoughts, ideas and feelings. Language wasn't something someone saw, it was something someone heard. Unless you were part of the clergy or arististocracy... So with this shift in the written word in relation to the invention of technology and its exponential growth rate, what will a book become? It is obvious that pages in a novel are changing with the use of the internet and mutlimedia.
Art and literature is a reflection of society, of culture, of values. I often wonder how the structure, form, and ideas in a novel will evolve as technology and our dependence on it increases. And I'm not talking some extremist bull where books are on screens that are files, I just wonder how authors and artists will push to be original given that most things in a book have already been done. And how technology will be an outlet for the avant-garde.

A-w-k-w-a-r-d.

It's simple, either you're an awkward person or you're not. It's clean, linear and without any shades of grey.

I am an awkward person.


Scenario 1:

I'm clocking off work. My boss, the man who owns the company and signs my paychecks is sitting with the captain, the man who tells me what needs to get done. They are talking, in a way that two working-men would. There's cussing involved, utterances of engines and fixing mechanical problems while sipping on beer (don't ask). I don't know what to say but I know its rude to just leave without saying goodnight. I mean, this guy does fund my rent and food.

As I'm walking away I say, "Don't stay too late and don't come to early."
I realize my mistake.
The heavy sexual undertones.
My cheeks turn bright red.
There's an awkward pause.
I don't stop.
I walk and walk and walk.

An un-awkward person wouldn't do that.

Scenario 2
As people are boarding the boat in Canada, a man, whom has already boarded and sat down, comes up to my co-worker and I on the dock.
"Excuse me..."
"...yeh." (I'm tired)
"The flag on the back of the boat is all tangled. You should probably show some respect and untangle the flag. I think it needs to be done. It doesn't look right."

"mm hmm"
"Can you do that...now? I don't like looking at it like this. It's disrespectful"
Note:
I love America.
I love the fact that I can overindulge in toothpaste choices at Fred Meyer and buy a hotdog for a 1.50 at Costco.
I love the fact that someday, I can pay someone to move all my materialistic shit I will inevitably consume in my lifetime and put it in neat little boxes.
These things are wonderful. I. Love. America.

however, I don't give a flying fuck about the wind tangling up a flag off the back of the boat. No matter what I do, the wind is going to blow and tangle the flag. I cannot stop the wind. Only the God that our one nation is under can untangle it.

My co-worker sees my obvious reaction and fixes it herself.
When she comes back I mutter, "Sorry Sir, your America penis isn't erect anymore because your fucking Viagra isn't working. Maybe he should worry about untangling that mess in his pants..."
We pause.
I'm pretty sure he heard me.
The rest of the night he couldn't look me in the eye.

Yes, I am an asshole. and yes, I do love America.
And, most importantly, Yes, you might have guess correctly, sometimes I am awkward and wildly inappropriate.

Hip. Well, maybe foo'

I was listening to French Kicks "One Time Bells" and became incredibly nostalgic. This disc was perma-in my walkmen & defined a large part of my adolescence. While time progresses and people do as well, music stays stationary, the sounds are the same, the lyrics never change...etc. etc. I find it always it a good measure for introspection. Seems fairly obvious.

Not to mention the cover is a motha-fuckin-owl smoking a cig. Ingenious.


I then realized that the song "Hospital Beds" by Cold War Kids (and/or arguably most of Robbers & Cowards album) is very similar in the style to "One Time Bells" This idea should be noted, because I am perpetually stuck in everything indie 90's. Getting out of the lo-fi, feminist, singer-song writer, Sonic Youth inspired noise-rock is good. Oh shit, I can feel the hipness tingling in my fingers. make it stop!

--------
I am also in love with negative space as an aesthetic.
http://potatohavetoes.com/pages/artwork20.html

http://www.zacharyrossman.com/

I would cover my walls (only sparingly) with art that looked this minimal. you don't need to create complexity to make art 'good'

example:
http://www.azstar78.com/gallery.cfm?idFilter=9&yearFilter=2008
Mixed media anyone?

I really like the zine he completed. It's simple, cartoon-esque but contains a lot of great meaning.
http://www.azstar78.com/gallery.cfm?idFilter=17&yearFilter=2006

The face lift.

Promised story

A retirement community road the boat to Victoria. I learned the following a) Older people don't tip b) they are incredibly demanding c) they want things exactly when they ask for them d) they decorate their walkers as a means of self expression. I do not understand letter d in the slightest.

what made my day complete was my interaction with 'the dudette' a female version of 'the dude.' Her physical description is as follows:
An art garfunkel-esque haircut, paisley pants that were two inches too short, a pair of birkenstocks complete with black socks & glasses half the size of her face, a carbon copy of the kind Steve Eurkel wore, complete with the flip-up sunglass attachment.
Everything that she said ended in the response, "that's so cool", "yeah dude" or "whateva"
At least she didn't complain said stolen carpet.

At the end of the night with Fairhaven in sight, the dock in my field-of-view, (the safe haven that I am almost home) the Dudette goes up, past the 'crew only' sign. She grabs the the microphone and says, "I just want everyone to know how wonderful this was. Let's give the crew and captain a 'hip-hip-hoorah!"
Silence.
I can feel the air tense, an awkward mood spreads until 80 retired men and women chant.
"Hip!"
"Hip!"
...
HOORAH!

I instantaneously begin laughing. Picture decorated walkers, an impatient line of wrinkle-filled old people lining the door, mouths simultaneously moving while the entire 100 foot boat is filled with a deep chorus of "hip-hip-hoooooorah!"

By God, the dudette might of just made my night.

Then comes the Wrinkles.

Mix 80 senior citizens, a six hour boat ride and a female version of 'the dude' & you get my day.
Hilarious stories will ensue. Hilarity that will hopefully be carried out via narrative sometime soon. you know, inbetween the 14 hr days and Dramamine.

Note: taking large doses of Dramamine is equivalent to feeling like a glazed. Not blazed. Just glazed. Glossy. Looking through a foggy window.