...............................dots.
i've spent the "better" part of the last five years...the entirety of my post-high school era...waiting for the pay off. waiting for the break. waiting for the girl. waiting for the miracle.
something tells me no matter what, i'll be putting time i don't have into something that will equate to nothing. music still gives me a sense of satisfaction...but it's disheartening and frustrating when you see your "peers" seemingly get the world pushed right under their noses on a platter made out of 1000s of silver dollars that's resting in the palm of a Mia Kirschner look-alike, whose wearing a catholic girls school uniform and Roller Skates...meanwhile you're TAKING THE TRAIN TO YOUR OWN SHOW ... the bassist doesn't show-up and there's no crowd...no money for the bands because no one showed up and the few that did...well their money needs to go to the sound people. but "it's not about the money, maaaaaan"....so you bottle all the doubts and fears and choke down enough tears to fill your lungs to a drowning-victim danger point...save it for another song....save it for another performance....take refuge in the reoccurring fantasy where you go all Dr. Destiny on the commuters and scensters who make life all the more contemptible.
then there are the women....then there is the money....the lack of one and the abundance of the other or not either or at all. to date....NOT. you don't have the money to treat a girl right...take her out to a movie or a nice dinner...the most you can get is their pity or sometimes respect, which can be an even greater assassin to one's sexual identity.....maybe. i don't even know anymore. all i know is i'm tired of not sharing an orgasm. that's all i've been doing. time to face the facts....few people really care. they've got their own problems to worry about...why should they listen to your bullshit?
i really like doing this; ....
hurm.
i dunno...just a thought.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Quotent Quotables vol.1
Do you wonder why, in contemporary America there is little to no organized youth movement against the wholly unjustified war that is raging in Iraq? No 60s-style peace movement? The Boondock Saints is rated a 7.8 on IMDB.com and I would wager good money that the large majority of the peons giving this sad excuse for moviemaking "10 stars" are under the age of 25. These same kids have also never heard that condoms prevent pregnancy, that the government is fallible, and that religion is the cruelest and bloodiest lie ever foisted upon mankind. What happened to the ethos that it is better to let ninety-nine guilty men go free rather than punish one innocent man? Oh yeah, it is in the same place that Unions, the 4th Amendment, Feminism, and Due Process all find themselves; i.e. fucking gone. America, it is time to mourn for your youth; they are truly lost.
- Matt Cale of RuthlessReviews.com.
- Matt Cale of RuthlessReviews.com.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Tired of Haulin' Oats! vol. 3
Gruntsplatter/Solvent split
Kayo Dot/Bloody Panda split
Albert Ayler - the Impulse Story
Dead Infection - Brain Corrosion
Diamanda Galas - Shrei X
Glorior Belli - Manifesting the Raging Beast
Sixteen Horsepower - Sackcloth 'N Ashes
Thought Industry - Songs for Insects
Today is the Day - Willpower
Year of the Rabbit - s/t
Kayo Dot/Bloody Panda split
Albert Ayler - the Impulse Story
Dead Infection - Brain Corrosion
Diamanda Galas - Shrei X
Glorior Belli - Manifesting the Raging Beast
Sixteen Horsepower - Sackcloth 'N Ashes
Thought Industry - Songs for Insects
Today is the Day - Willpower
Year of the Rabbit - s/t
We Are the Sprocket Holes vol. 3
more movie ratings;
the Prestige - 8/10: Christopher Nolan proving once again he really (moreso than any director) deserves the bigger budgets he's earned since Memento. great story (written by him alongside his brother Jonathan Nolan), great visuals, and an impeccable cast...save for Scarlett Johansen. don't get me wrong, i like the girl, but she's just not a "period" kind of actress. loved Bowie as Nikola Tesla. there were several "oh SNAP!" moments that made the film a blast to watch. recommended.
Just Friends - 3/10: bonehead comedy about being in "the friend zone". the entire cast re-defines the term "phoning it in". Amy Smart plays the sweet, smart girl that every guy wants, Anna Farris plays the cute wacky girl, Ryan Reynolds plays the smug smart ass. the story is dim and needlessly hateful, the gags feel tacked on, and worst of all; none of it is funny or touching. there is not one real moment in any of this mess.
My Super Ex-Girlfriend - 2/10: same as above, but with super powers and an even more misogynistic message. i'm not trying to be mr. sensitive PC guy here, but guys; IT'S NOT ALWAYS THE WOMAN'S FAULT. Men can be cruel. Men can be obnoxious and clingy to the point of criminality. More often than not, it is the man who is these things. i'm just speaking from experience, here. granted, i've never had shrieking fits of hysteria involving chainsaws or throwing a shark through someone apartment window...but when has it ever gotten that bad for anyone? most of the times when guys talk about "crazy" girlfriends or vice versa, it's more often than not hyperbole...but i digress. i found myself hating not the characters for doing these things to each other, but the film makers who seem to hate people so much that they would subject their creations (and an audience) to such juvenile behavior. awful stuff here.
Koma - 8/10: yet another one for the Tartan Asia Extreme love pile. a compelling, beautiful film that rises above its seemingly simple premise (kidney thief pursuing girls and harvesting their bodies for financial gain). the lead actresses are beautiful...not so much encompassing the phrase "lovely and talented" as they do redefine it.
Overnight - 9/10: Documentary on Boondock Saints writer/director Troy Duffy. this film works on so many different levels that it is staggering. on one level, it's a cautionary tale to those who are looking to make something out of nothing or who think that they'll someday be plucked out of obscurity and given carpe blanche to do whatever the hell they want. it's almost a deconstruction of that time-tested dream, showing all the aches and pains and doubts that arise when you realize you've gotten sucked into something you did not fully understand. on another level, it's an attack on the film industry itself, be it Max Weinstein, who is shown as being ambivalent to his new pet project, or Duffy himself; shown in this film to be a cruel dim mean-spirited ego-monopolizing uneducated belligerent ingrate who stomps and screams like a spoiled twat when things don't go the way he insists that they were promised to go. He was given an opportunity so many people dream of; a big studio buying his script...a major label deal for his band...basically just getting lucky...he squandered the opportunities given to him by using his band and his film to bolster his own ego and persona rather than letting the works speak for themselves. the result was sub-standard product that few people wanted to touch. his band's debut sold less than 700 copies, subsequently secruing their non-future, and though Boondocks Saints has become something of a "cult classic"....mostly by people who are like Duffy (ie Annoyingly Macho and Loud "Irish Pride" Douchebags who know almost nothing about film in craft or theory), Duffy sees no compensation for the video sales or TV Broadcasts. one of the most telling scenes; Duffy speaking in front of film students (Duffy earlier had prided himself in never having gone to film school) and basically making an ass out of himself after the film students tell him not to give up and keep at it if he loves it. he of course gets needlessly confrontational, even singling out one student who is sitting quietly, trying to bully a response out of him. it's always refreshing to see people in positions of power who really have no clue what they're doing get "taken to school" by people who have done their homework, who have busted their ass, who have and will suffer but who prepared to endure those awful periods. Duffy was not ready, so he lashes out and blames everyone but himself. he is a man with no sense of reason and accountability...with no real talent or voice when it comes to music or film making. he's simply an ego-maniac who wanted power and didn't get it because his ego had nothing to back it up. the Boondock Saints, despite it's now revered status, is an unoriginal poorly made piece of sub-adolescent fantasia; a bad comic book with vomit-inducing religious overtones and not one interesting or inspired character to its credit. it cribbed from Leon: the Professional, Things to Do in Dever When You're Dead, The Krays, and others, turning the ideas into action figure versions of themselves. as for Duffy's band "the Brood"...well they were nothing more than a hollow alterna-bar band. alright i'm tired of writing about this. great documentary for all...lovers and haters.
the Prestige - 8/10: Christopher Nolan proving once again he really (moreso than any director) deserves the bigger budgets he's earned since Memento. great story (written by him alongside his brother Jonathan Nolan), great visuals, and an impeccable cast...save for Scarlett Johansen. don't get me wrong, i like the girl, but she's just not a "period" kind of actress. loved Bowie as Nikola Tesla. there were several "oh SNAP!" moments that made the film a blast to watch. recommended.
Just Friends - 3/10: bonehead comedy about being in "the friend zone". the entire cast re-defines the term "phoning it in". Amy Smart plays the sweet, smart girl that every guy wants, Anna Farris plays the cute wacky girl, Ryan Reynolds plays the smug smart ass. the story is dim and needlessly hateful, the gags feel tacked on, and worst of all; none of it is funny or touching. there is not one real moment in any of this mess.
My Super Ex-Girlfriend - 2/10: same as above, but with super powers and an even more misogynistic message. i'm not trying to be mr. sensitive PC guy here, but guys; IT'S NOT ALWAYS THE WOMAN'S FAULT. Men can be cruel. Men can be obnoxious and clingy to the point of criminality. More often than not, it is the man who is these things. i'm just speaking from experience, here. granted, i've never had shrieking fits of hysteria involving chainsaws or throwing a shark through someone apartment window...but when has it ever gotten that bad for anyone? most of the times when guys talk about "crazy" girlfriends or vice versa, it's more often than not hyperbole...but i digress. i found myself hating not the characters for doing these things to each other, but the film makers who seem to hate people so much that they would subject their creations (and an audience) to such juvenile behavior. awful stuff here.
Koma - 8/10: yet another one for the Tartan Asia Extreme love pile. a compelling, beautiful film that rises above its seemingly simple premise (kidney thief pursuing girls and harvesting their bodies for financial gain). the lead actresses are beautiful...not so much encompassing the phrase "lovely and talented" as they do redefine it.
Overnight - 9/10: Documentary on Boondock Saints writer/director Troy Duffy. this film works on so many different levels that it is staggering. on one level, it's a cautionary tale to those who are looking to make something out of nothing or who think that they'll someday be plucked out of obscurity and given carpe blanche to do whatever the hell they want. it's almost a deconstruction of that time-tested dream, showing all the aches and pains and doubts that arise when you realize you've gotten sucked into something you did not fully understand. on another level, it's an attack on the film industry itself, be it Max Weinstein, who is shown as being ambivalent to his new pet project, or Duffy himself; shown in this film to be a cruel dim mean-spirited ego-monopolizing uneducated belligerent ingrate who stomps and screams like a spoiled twat when things don't go the way he insists that they were promised to go. He was given an opportunity so many people dream of; a big studio buying his script...a major label deal for his band...basically just getting lucky...he squandered the opportunities given to him by using his band and his film to bolster his own ego and persona rather than letting the works speak for themselves. the result was sub-standard product that few people wanted to touch. his band's debut sold less than 700 copies, subsequently secruing their non-future, and though Boondocks Saints has become something of a "cult classic"....mostly by people who are like Duffy (ie Annoyingly Macho and Loud "Irish Pride" Douchebags who know almost nothing about film in craft or theory), Duffy sees no compensation for the video sales or TV Broadcasts. one of the most telling scenes; Duffy speaking in front of film students (Duffy earlier had prided himself in never having gone to film school) and basically making an ass out of himself after the film students tell him not to give up and keep at it if he loves it. he of course gets needlessly confrontational, even singling out one student who is sitting quietly, trying to bully a response out of him. it's always refreshing to see people in positions of power who really have no clue what they're doing get "taken to school" by people who have done their homework, who have busted their ass, who have and will suffer but who prepared to endure those awful periods. Duffy was not ready, so he lashes out and blames everyone but himself. he is a man with no sense of reason and accountability...with no real talent or voice when it comes to music or film making. he's simply an ego-maniac who wanted power and didn't get it because his ego had nothing to back it up. the Boondock Saints, despite it's now revered status, is an unoriginal poorly made piece of sub-adolescent fantasia; a bad comic book with vomit-inducing religious overtones and not one interesting or inspired character to its credit. it cribbed from Leon: the Professional, Things to Do in Dever When You're Dead, The Krays, and others, turning the ideas into action figure versions of themselves. as for Duffy's band "the Brood"...well they were nothing more than a hollow alterna-bar band. alright i'm tired of writing about this. great documentary for all...lovers and haters.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
I Dunno, Just a Thought vol. the 13th
there needs to be two bands. one called "Leather Tuscadero" and another called "Count Malachi". i don't care what kind of music they play...but preferably somewhere between Sleepytime Gorilla Museum and Caroliner...only dressed like S&M Greaser Mimes.
i dunno...just a thought.
i dunno...just a thought.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Breakfast-Farts vol. 6
NP: Thom Yorke - Black Swan
i have a ritual before practice/shows. sort of an anti-ritual, i suppose, since "ritual" is usually equated with some sort of action. what i do is more of a deprivation-exercise.
- Don't eat: if i eat, i get hiccups within the first few vocal lines and sound like a cunt-muscle. i drive myself to vomiting almost all the time (more so at shows since i move around at an increased rate than at practice, where i am for the most part stationary), and a full-stomach just makes it worse.
- Don't cum: i don't have the luxury of a Jake Lamotta "no-sex before fighting" rule, as i am currently (and perpetually) without a sexual partner. but, i do jerk off enough. while i find that jerking off eases some tension, it also can ease too much tension, thus i've got no pent-up energy, which has an adverse effect on both my vocals themselves and my performance (aka running around and falling on the floor).
- Don't relax: i'm a nervy, anxious person, and am always imagining the worst. why be so negative? i'm not a superstitious man, or a theologian, but it seems like when i trick my brain into imagining worst case scenarios, those situations never materialize, and it makes for a good night. it is when i become complacent and at ease that shit hits the fan from the front and the back.
when i adhere to these anti-rituals, it makes for a more feverish, cathartic, and stronger performance on my part. i have the (musically) least challenging responsibility in the band, so i should be at my best.
jesus, sometimes i really think the world of myself. like my bullshit makes any difference. no one talks to me after a performance, no one truly gives a shit. i'm just a clown yelling about who-gives-a-fuck.
gotta piss.
i have a ritual before practice/shows. sort of an anti-ritual, i suppose, since "ritual" is usually equated with some sort of action. what i do is more of a deprivation-exercise.
- Don't eat: if i eat, i get hiccups within the first few vocal lines and sound like a cunt-muscle. i drive myself to vomiting almost all the time (more so at shows since i move around at an increased rate than at practice, where i am for the most part stationary), and a full-stomach just makes it worse.
- Don't cum: i don't have the luxury of a Jake Lamotta "no-sex before fighting" rule, as i am currently (and perpetually) without a sexual partner. but, i do jerk off enough. while i find that jerking off eases some tension, it also can ease too much tension, thus i've got no pent-up energy, which has an adverse effect on both my vocals themselves and my performance (aka running around and falling on the floor).
- Don't relax: i'm a nervy, anxious person, and am always imagining the worst. why be so negative? i'm not a superstitious man, or a theologian, but it seems like when i trick my brain into imagining worst case scenarios, those situations never materialize, and it makes for a good night. it is when i become complacent and at ease that shit hits the fan from the front and the back.
when i adhere to these anti-rituals, it makes for a more feverish, cathartic, and stronger performance on my part. i have the (musically) least challenging responsibility in the band, so i should be at my best.
jesus, sometimes i really think the world of myself. like my bullshit makes any difference. no one talks to me after a performance, no one truly gives a shit. i'm just a clown yelling about who-gives-a-fuck.
gotta piss.
Friday, July 20, 2007
I Dunno, Just a Thought vol. 12
NP: Air - Playground Love
this is in lieu of smothering myself right now... or swallowing an inordinate amount of brightly colored meds.
i've got that heavy feeling again. you can feel tears well up and around your eyes, but that "fucking men" thing in your brain keeps them from dropping, from leaving thin salt traces down your face. so you put a sad-sounding song on repeat and hope the melodies will overtake the atmosphere and you'll float with the contentment of a soul whose host was restless and miserable for far to long.
i don't like to think that i ask for much...but asking for much may be the problem. i should expect nothing. fall into a jaded nonchalance and do nothing but work a boring job and have bad sex with bad people. forget writing and music and being creative cause it will never get you anywhere and the only real signs of maturity are in crippling banality and vague morals.
i'm writing, but i'm not feeling any better. if you are reading this...make me feel better. you win. i'm sick of being miserable. i'm sick of my "intense" personality. no one wants that anymore. it's never been a pose, but maybe i need a pose.
i dunno, just a thought.
this is in lieu of smothering myself right now... or swallowing an inordinate amount of brightly colored meds.
i've got that heavy feeling again. you can feel tears well up and around your eyes, but that "fucking men" thing in your brain keeps them from dropping, from leaving thin salt traces down your face. so you put a sad-sounding song on repeat and hope the melodies will overtake the atmosphere and you'll float with the contentment of a soul whose host was restless and miserable for far to long.
i don't like to think that i ask for much...but asking for much may be the problem. i should expect nothing. fall into a jaded nonchalance and do nothing but work a boring job and have bad sex with bad people. forget writing and music and being creative cause it will never get you anywhere and the only real signs of maturity are in crippling banality and vague morals.
i'm writing, but i'm not feeling any better. if you are reading this...make me feel better. you win. i'm sick of being miserable. i'm sick of my "intense" personality. no one wants that anymore. it's never been a pose, but maybe i need a pose.
i dunno, just a thought.
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