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 |   My fourth blog. Amazing yet disconcerting. Don't worry; this'll go away in a year or so. |
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First there was "I'm Studying You"  ...then there was "Who Do I Think I Am??" . Finally, we reached "Who do I still think I am??" .Until now. Welcome to the Buffalo in your soul...       A THREE-TIME CHAMPION OF THE "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" !   |
 "Annoying habits: yours, a loved ones or just one that drives you bonkers."'Sup fine people? So, most of y'all know that I don't usually read other peoples' blog entries before I write mine, but lately on the off chance at school if I need to kill a few extra minutes after lunch or between classes or waiting for the bus, if someone pops up in my newsfeed I'll give their two cents the ol' looksee. That being said, I'm finding it hard to say something that wasn't already said by Charlie ~  in his entry today, "Invalid Entry" . I'm not surprised though; occasionally I think you could switch the names around and you might not know the difference between who wrote what if we just handed you the gist of each entry on an otherwise blank piece of paper.I have the nail-biting tendency...I know it's gross but at least I know where my hands have been (that's not to say I'd bite your nails...c'mon man, I have some standards). It's one of those idle, nervous habits...if my hands aren't occupied and my mind's not focused on something, before I know it I've got no need to use clippers. Think doctor's offices, watching TV, and stressful moments spent waiting somewhere you'd rather not be. That's why I've resorted to bringing my own magazines to any kind of waiting room/area...gives me something to do with both my hands and my worrisome nature (and it's not likely I'll be enthralled by any of their options...when was the last some you saw ESPN, Wired, or Rolling Stone among the stacks of Better Homes And Gardens and Woman's World? Like guys don't get sick or have court dates or needs too.) besides wonder what's next and playing out all the scenarios on the big screen inside my skull. Another nervous habit? Not being able to sit still. Can't do it. At all. I used to think it was caffeine, but even when I've gone through stretches where I've eliminated it from my diet, I still have a tendency to shift my weight, change positions, or otherwise adjust my legs. I could be watchin' a baseball game with my dad (this is going back a lotta years ago), and I wouldn't even realize I was doing it, but it was plenty of a distraction to him (I can still hear him say, "Jesus Christ, take a Valium or somethin'!"). Same with coughing or clearing my throat...I wouldn't have to look to know he'd be staring at me cockeyed. I'd do it and then he'd do it, almost in a passive/aggressive form of mockery. But that's his problem. And like Charlie also said, I shouldn't be one to talk about other people's bad habits in public that piss me off. I've been better about it in the last year or so, because medication, but little stupid shit used to really irritate me. Like people talking loudly and obnoxiously enough that I could hear them through walls and over the music I'm listening to at a reasonable enough volume so as not to disturb anyone, or sometimes just people in general. Like, I take a public bus almost every day to school, and sometimes it's quiet, but often it's blathering, whiny conversation that I can't just tune out (I know, I know...I need to put some music on my tablet so I can hope to drown it out with headphones, but I fear sometimes even that won't be enough). And if we're on a crowded bus, I shouldn't have to hear the thudding bass or ridiculous hi-hats of a song I can't make out if we're sitting a couple seats away. That's just rude and distracting...so I'll stare. I'll shoot a dirty look. And if I'm really feeling feisty, I'll grumble some bullshit under my breath...which'll probably get my ass kicked someday. But ya know what? Have some consideration for others too. Life ain't all about you, and I've been working on correcting that for so long now that because I have to work on it, I think it's something most people are already aware of regarding themselves in public. And I'm learning the hard way that that's not always the case. Maybe I should start biting my fingernails in public just to keep myself from running my mouth and making a spectacle of things that should be simpler to let slide. Ahhh, the vicious circle of bad habits.  BCF PROMPT: "What's so special about October 20? Why is October 20 special? One reason is that it is National Brandied Fruit Day, but there must be at least 100+ more reasons why October 20 is special. Can you tell us one of those reasons? Be creative and have fun." I'm gonna tie these up together because it's one of the first things I came across when Googling "October 20th days in history"...  Google wasn't very helpful, because a lot of things happened on this day and I don't know that any of them were special enough to register with me that way (and watch...I'll read like five other entries about this, and be like "Ohhh, shiiiiiit.... that's riiiiiight!! That did happen today!"). I don't even know what "brandied fruit" is, and I'm not interested enough to look it up. I'm assuming it has something to do with fruit soaked in brandy, or a corporate way of recognizing the canned fruit industry, or anything on the spectrum between the two...and I could've looked it up in the time it took to type those last few sentences, but right now writing this entry > internet facts, and you'll have that sometimes from me. But what I did find was that on this day in 1976 Led Zeppelin's The Song Remains The Same officially premiered in London, a film culled from a series of concerts at Madison Square Garden a few years prior. I'm familiar with the songs as a Zep fan, so it almost pains me to admit I've never owned this (although I have seen it before). So today, or any day for that matter, celebrate it in your own way (whether in silent admiration, or sharing a little nugget of weirdness with someone, or throw a freakin' parade if you want)...every day all throughout history something has happened that has given at least one person the opportunity to make this day worthwhile for others. May as well enjoy it.   Is this true? Are my eyes deceiving me? There's been a Brother Nature  sighting in the "Blogging Circle of Friends Prompt Forum" ?! Welcome all the way back, Joel...it's always good when you're around.   I can't say that I've had more than a handful of migraines throughout my life, so I'm not complaining, but I don't know what's worse...getting hit with a full-blown migraine or having a headache that's getting progressively worse to deal with or ignore by the minute. And I say minute, because it feels like this has been going on for at least four hours. I never used to get headaches very often, but dammit in the last couple of years or so, I feel like I've been whining about a little literal numbskullery more than usual. I don't even want to speculate as to why it's happening...I know I didn't sleep well throughout the night but I did sleep in a bit today, so I don't know. Whatever. I'll worry more if it's there lingering tomorrow. And finally, because nothing settles a headache more than some bad poetry, here's today's Round 4 attempt in "Invalid Item" ...the prompt is "MONSTER: Frankenstein; COCKTAIL: Broken Down Golf Cart; FORM: SWAP QUATRAIN ~ with a minimum of five stanzas! Within the Swap Quatrain each stanza in the poem must be a quatrain [four lines] where the first line is reversed in the fourth line. In addition, line 2 must rhyme with line 1, and line 3 must rhyme with line 4 and so on, BUT not repeat the same rhyming pattern on subsequent stanzas. Rhyming pattern: AABB, CCDD, and so on.)."Frankenstein's got a broken-down golf cart, but is it really not his fault? You know it probably could've been mine, 'cuz a broken-down golf cart has a Frankenstein. See, we were ridin' along the green and by the last hole we were drunkenly obscene. I don't remember too much, but he was as green from the ride, I could see. We had a cooler of cocktails and our cart veered from the trails. What had been a lotta fun turned into cocktails having us. He had passed on the last few holes, and I wouldn't let him drive alone once I figured out he was blasted... on the last few holes I gave him a pass. Now a broken-down golf cart has Frankenstein and he'll be pissed when finds that I'm responsible for slipping him Midori Melon and leaving him in a golf cart that's broken down. Well, that wasn't so bad (the writing part, at least ). I'm sure if I wanted it to be better (or worser...and don't front on me and tell me "worser" isn't a word, because I totally know it's not, but "worser" can exist if bad poetry can too) I could spend the required time to make it more structurally sound and with a better backstory. But my theory is that if you have to try, and actually work on bad poetry, you should turn it into good poetry, and hey, I'm not feelin' that much need to expound on the myth that I got Frankenstein drunk and left him passed out in a cart after crashing into a tree.  See what I did there? Anyway, I'm gonna go off and see what the you others are up to, because I can be annoying like that sometimes. Peace, if you walk you're gonna get there, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| Hey y'all...if you asked me earlier today to write a fancy (but bad) poem, I probably would have done it. But it's football Sunday, I've been through another down-to-the-wire finish for my hometown team, and now I'm having problems deciding if I should eat, nap, or eat then nap. Yeah, football can do that to you...especially when you've bitten most of what's left of your nails off thinking your team actually still has a chance in the last two minutes to win but you've seen this story so many times before and don't want to set yourself up for a disappointing outcome once again. Yeah, that was my day. Got bored with pathetic football, bounced back and forth and back again between Twitter and WDC, and now there's a prompt for "Invalid Item" ...meanwhile, I've forgotten that I don't know shit about poetry forms and all the sharp rules and regulations that come along with them. Have I said that before? It's gonna be a recurring theme I figure.By the way, don't judge me for getting a little too anxious about football. If some of y'all can get jacked up Harry Pottering your way through a teenager's fictional wizardry over the course of what is it...seven books, you can put up with me watching football for a few hours on a Sunday and leaving my thoughts on it where I choose to. At least I'm watching real people do real things.  Anyway, here's the Round 3 prompt...gimme a minute to do some research on Ottava Rima poems: "MONSTER: Witch; COCKTAIL: Rhett Butler; Required Form: Ottava Rima - minimum 2 octive - if you do three you'll get to bob for apples in the spit 'n' snot bucket! An Ottava Rima is a poem written in 8-line octives. Each line is of a 10 or 11 syllable count in the following rhyme: one octive poem. abababcc two octive poem. abababcc, dededeff three octive poem. abababcc, dededeff, ghghghii". Rhett Butler couldn't keep it in his pants but he knew what he was talking about. He asked Scarlett anyway for a dance and got her dad drunk in the old Dirty South. When you're in with the dad you've got a chance; but he sells Scarlett out, the douchebag lout. And that's when I lost interest in this book... as a high school kid it gave me no hook. Rhett Butler gets all "smitten emo boy", while Scarlett turns into a cash-money witch. Say what you will about men and emojis, but maybe Scarlett's letter was deserv-ed. Hard for me to say either way though; oi! Historical fiction isn't my gig. Seems like they get what they want in the end... poor examples if you ask me, my friends. Yes, I know...horrible poem for all the wrong reasons, and some of the right ones too. I'll admit it...I never read The Scarlett Letter in school, because it bored me. I was too concerned with seeing how great I could be at bullshitting my way through English classes with sick-ass great grades. We're talkin' about the same pieces of literature here, right? Because I'm fully accepting my laziness and not doing anymore work today. Was Gone With The Wind a book too? Please tell me it was based on The Scarlett Letter...now I'm so embarrassed because I don't know books or movies. Ok, not that embarrassed, because I kinda don't care. I mean, I cared enough to do this and spent a lot of time on counting syllables again on my fingers (my poor fingers...they must hate me for this  ), but it's not the end of the world if people like it or not. Understand, I'm still learning this whole "bad poetry" concept. Don't judge me...remember, I watch football and you maybe read YA novels religiously and we both get all "up here" about those activities that have zero intersection whatsoever. Sounds like it's all good to me.Sonuvabitch. Coulda sworn I had music on iTunes that referenced either Rhett Butler or Scarlett O'Hara, but nothing comes up in searches. Damn. Plan B it is then: since "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn" is a beloved movie quote from the Rhett himself, I'm going with a favorite movie quote of my own in song-title form. 17-16 Still not completely over Buffalo beating Minnesota today and wondering why I still watch football in the first place because of seeing that game. I don't even wanna talk about it. All I know is an hour into the game I was thinking "the one day I allow myself to overindulge when I've got classes the next day, there's not gonna be enough beer in the fridge to make this any better...but I can't stop watching". Mondays are always better when the Bills win, but please, if there's any kind of lord above or below or anywhere, cut the shit with the last-minute wins. Gimme a blowout win over a team you're sposta beat, with your feared defensive line against a rookie QB...not this mail-biting stuff and your top two RB's get carted off the field- crying...no seriously, crying- because of injury. Please, let next Sunday's game against the Jets be a good ol' divisional rompin' that this team on paper should be able to do. Not just sayin' that 'cuz I'm a fan, or I've had blood pressure issues in the past. I'm a #Billiever. I don't even know what else to talk about...had to restart the laptop again today because of Windows updates, so of course I had to close everything down, saved the few links I had open to the Pocket app, and now I don't feel like going there to retrieve it all because it's full of shit I saw on Twitter today as well. Remember...it's ok to run your mouth all day about your favorite books and movies, and I put up with it even though I probably couldn't give a damn, so you people need to accept that for 16 Sunday afternoons a year (ok, 15, and one Thursday night) I'll be giving you the same treatment I see when crappy fictional televional whatevers are on. I get it; zombies are cool and all, and that dude finally let the air out the mother-meeting bag, and lordy lordy that shitty 90's movie is now on a cable network (and censored to practical pointlessness) and you can't imagine why you never liked it in the first place. Cool story, yo. You got your problems; I got mine...and they're centered around a drinking town's football problem. Still got mad love for you cats though. Peace, let go because I'm afraid to try, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "You might be moved by the sheer technology of it or the travel abilities that it affords. Let's see if you can connect with the excitement and the mystery and how it has changed your view on travel."What up y'all? Good prompts today, so allow me to kill a couple minutes of your time with 'em. It's funny...last weekend actually when I was at my mom's in WNY we were talking about travel. I had an aunt that would fly my brother and I out to Connecticut each summer as unaccompanied minors, and there was some debate as to how old we first were on the plane by ourselves...ma thought we were ages six and four, which even I know would be a ridiculous thing to do. Like, if you were shippin' kids that age off by plane, wouldn't Child Protective Services be involved? I thought I was closer to eight or nine, and even then now that I think about it it still seems kinda odd that airlines would allow kids to fly by themselves at that age. Mom was all like "They're supposed to have a stewardess assigned to you to make sure you're ok..." and I quickly assured her that that didn't happen. Oh sure, there was a flight attendant that asked if we wanted some juice and a snack, but there was not someone so attentive to us in case, you know, someone got sick or somethin'.  Your boy here wouldn't approve of being on a plane unaccompanied at the age of six. I was that kid. First flight ever, and of course I got air sickness. Apple juice so don't taste the same comin' up as it did goin' down. And now I'm wondering why I went with apple juice that day instead of orange juice...because if there's ever a juice option, I almost always go with orange. But that's not the point. The point is, I filled up that barf bag quickly and before anyone knew what was going on. Ain't no amount of technology was gonna save me at that point. And from that point on I knew I wasn't cut out for plane travel. I thought maybe, after not flying for so many years, that as an adult I'd outgrown whatever nervous anxiety I had about flying. I knew all the statistics, like how I'm more likely to die in a car crash than a plane incident, and that safety measures have increased, and blah blah blah. But once that plane is up in the air, it's like my feet know we're 40,000 feet from them hitting the ground for awhile...but that doesn't stop them from wanting to try. I'm that guy who grips both the armrests on takeoff and struggles to sit upright because his body's reaction to cabin pressure is like riding a ferris wheel (as you can guess, I'm no fun at amusement parks either). The whole "center of gravity" thing is in my stomach, which isn't capable of reconciling science because the rest of my body wants to curl up inside it. Yeah, I'm a mess on a plane. Needless to say, I'd prefer to have zero connection with advanced forms of travel. The last time I had to go across country for something, I convinced the immediate party I was going with to go in on renting a car and driving from Buffalo to Savannah, Georgia. I can handle being shoved in the back seat of a car for 19 hours better than being on a plane for three. It's cool. Is it always practical? No. Obviously I'll never be able to drive to England or Hawaii, but I'm also not planning on going there anytime soon. If and when that should happen, I'll suck it up and board a plane...and be miserable the entire time I'm in transit. Sure, airlines are great and all because they've made seeing the world affordable and safe and friendly, but no man, not me. If I don't have to, I won't. BCF PROMPT: "Your ship has just wrecked on a deserted island. What skill do you have that will make you useful to the group?" So then there's this, and I'll be up-front about it. If we're low on food, y'all cannibals can take me first. I don't believe I'll like the taste of human flesh, and I could probably feed 6-8 of you if you know how to cook a body (another skill I don't exactly bring to the group). I don't know what really I could do if we were stranded on a deserted island. So much for being a boy scout all those years ago. I'd probably start crackin' awkward jokes about the whole situation to lighten the mood, until the Negative Nellie in the group gets pissed off and tells me to start being serious and goes off on me about not realizing how much danger we're in (I'm setting the over/under on that happening within 36 hours or when the booze runs out). Seriously, what am I supposed to do? I'm not into catching and killing live animals for dinner, I can barely use a hammer and nails to craft something sturdy enough to float us to safety, and the advent of cellular reception in every area that isn't uninhabited by people has rendered smoke signals fairly useless. Anything else I can do? I mean, that no one else can? My best skills probably are associated with this blog, but if I can't dial 911 then I highly doubt firing off a blog entry or two is gonna save our asses. Nobody makes money during the tragedy; everyone wants your story after you've survived and moved on and settled the lawsuit against the travel agency that got you shipwrecked. All I'm sayin' is I'm probably qualified to be Gilligan, secretly hopin' for some alone time in the hut with Mary Ann and Ginger. If we can't save ourselves, we may as well try to repopulate the island. No more "Resurrection Jukebox" , but before I move on I should thank the stellar lizco252 for the awardicon at the top of this page and the "Ghost" merit badge for participating as a Soundtracker. I will probably never do anything else that's worthy of a "Ghost" MB, so it's a really sweet acknowledgement. Now, why not post a video today of a song that speaks to the aspects of travelling gone awry? "Hard-wired to conceive, so much we'd have to stow it... even needs have needs; tiny giants made of tinier giants." Lyrics and interpretations. Johnny Marr would've never been acting in a video like this if The Smiths were still active.  In case you weren't paying attention and were curious, here are over 100 more reasons why you should go to Walmart . Don't go for the prices or the "customer service" (which needed to be placed between quotation marks in this instance)...you always go to Walmart because of the people-watching experience. Oh, the nostalgia...treats of our youth you can no longer find in stores. Perfect for a dreary, chilly Saturday that no longer can talk about having morning cartoons on over-the-air network TV stations. At all.   And now, for "Invalid Item" , please indulge me in another attempt at bad poetry. Today's prompts are: "Monster: El Chupacabra; Cocktail: Choker/Choking Hazard; and just because I know 🌕 HuntersMoon  loves it, it's a FREE VERSE!".Ancient creature? Urban legend? Goat-sucking livestock felon? Nobody's sure what to believe next other than it's a real thing on the internet. Scales and spines; alien eyes and a tail... claws and jaws that make blood easier to inhale. I've never seen one but I guess it's safe to imagine that trying to eat one would be a choking hazard. I've heard of chupacabras before, but only in the most basic of senses. I've seen it mentioned as the name of minor, minor, minor league sports teams...so of course I'm trusting the Wikipedia page on chupacabras for my source info. I don't see myself waking up in the morning anytime soon and thinking "I should go to the pet store and see if I can get a deal on a cute little chupacabra today...I'll love him and pet him and squeeze him and name him Jorgé!". Yup, not in my future, 'cuz according to Wikipedia those things are psychos. They're like small bears with giant frog legs and razorback whatevers and they suck the blood of goats. What'd a goat ever do to anyone that merited death by chupacabra? For real. And since when are goats considered "livestock"? I need someone with some experience on goats here for this. Cobe , are goats actually livestock? I thought they were just hippie animals that lived in fields, playing happily and growing their beards. And this translation thing..."chupacabra" means "goat-sucker"? I don't get it. When I was in Spanish class throughout high school kids would call me "Chivo" because I sported a goatee and "chivo" meant "goat". And isn't a unicorn just a goat with a horn popping out of its forehead? Must be a Saturday, because I'm thinking way too much about this.Well, it looks like that's where this ride is ending up today. If you made it this far, I apologize congratulate you for your diligent perseverance and readership. Peace, it sounds like someplace I'd like to go, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "Tell us about your favorite costume from childhood. Alternate Prompt: Orange is a color that people either hate or love: tell us how you feel about it."Good morning to you, kind people who read this...I hope this is finding you well. I've been up since like 4am, and nothing good comes out of anyone being awake at 4am...so let me get this off my hands and into your eyeballs before the inevitable crash nap occurs and renders me useless for the rest of the day. I don't know that I have a favorite costume from childhood. So often it was either DIY, or go to the department store and pick out something that was flame-retardant. Why? Did kids get into a habit of setting themselves on fire when wearing plastic costumes that smelled like a factory? Were the eye-holes in the masks too small to avoid heat? Was the sweat produced by such costume/mask combos that toxic? Maybe that takes care of some explanations. Thankfully there's an alternate prompt to work with today. I have no problem with the color orange, as long as it's a tasteful shade. I think in certain situations it's underrated, but it really can get tacky if it's part of the 70's kitchen decor lineup. That's just not a good idea for anyone. But you wanna dye your hair orange or get some fresh orange kicks? Do your thing then. Far be it from me to stop you with my opinion...ain't like I gotta wake next to you or anything. BCF PROMPT: "Oprah Winfrey said, 'So go ahead. Fall down. The world looks different from the ground.' Do you embrace failure?" Ah, here we go...my girl Harpo. She can do no wrong. She didn't like talk shows, so she got her own. She didn't like the magazines out there, so she got herself one of them too. And when she decided she didn't like either, she got a cable TV network...all Oprah, all the time. Good on her for having the cred and cache to pull that off. So who's Oprah to tell me anything about failure? I could write books and dissertations on bad decisions...I could be the Oprah of failure if I really wanted to embrace that ambition. Babe Ruth knew how to eat hot dogs, bang hookers and hit home runs; Oprah is the champion of all things Oprah; and I know failure. I'm like the Joel Osteen of failure...I could sermonize about it all day long for the right amount of blood money. I don't see anyone ponying up the dough to put my tales in syndication...the richest god damn woman on the planet, and she's gonna tell me it's ok to fail? Anyone else see what's wrong with this picture? Well, for the rest of us who haven't been so lucky to see our hard work rewarded with anything else but harder work, I'm here to tell you that there is a silver lining in your shitty cloud. Failure can be a great source of motivation, like "I don't ever wanna go through that again." It makes you wiser and healthier (but probably not better looking...some failures not of your own doing are irreversible). Sometimes you've gotta suck just to see how better you are than others, whether it's playing checkers or writing or competitive eating or porn. There are people who are just better at things, and there are people who aren't as skilled. Once you know where you stand given a large sample size, you can determine your next move..."Well, this is where I can perform better..." or "Maybe I'm not cut out for this; I'll move on to something else". Life ain't about success and failure, but how we adapt to either when it matters most. But I didn't wake up in the middle of the night to bestow that wisdom upon you. Hell, I didn't wake up to any wisdom. I'm just a simple man who will most likely never be Oprah rich , and it's not from lack of effort. I wish I could say I appreciate her telling me it's okay to fuck up sometimes, but lady I already know that. The struggle existed long before you, and for some people it'll continue no matter how hard they try. Sign me up when there's a "Perseverance" network...that sounds like something more people can relate to than "The Oprah Winfrey Network". Am I hatin'? Yeah, I'm hatin'. No Oprah gon' tell me nuthin' 'bout failing. ** Image ID #2010042 Unavailable ** The last day of another Soundtracker event...so bittersweet. There are still some dead artists left that I can't believe haven't been mentioned yet. I've only got two words for you people: The Clash. They need no introduction; you know who they are and why they're here. RIP Joe Strummer. Apparently, I haven't been smart enough all these years to properly eat pistachios . Really. I'd save those "too hard to open" ones for awhile, and if I wasn't feelin' like digging out a hammer to smash them open, they got tossed. I swear I still possess some ingenuity...just wish it would've washed over me sooner. And normally I'd put this link here because hey, stop worrying about Ebola , but an amazing thing happened after I watched the embedded YouTube clip of a guy imitating President Obama and using his cat as a puppet...funny how the end of five seconds can change your entire day... Good morning to me, I guess.  And finally, in a new October feature here in "Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am" , I present to you in conjunction with "Invalid Item" some bad poetry. Today's prompt is "MONSTER: Dracula; COCKTAIL: Muddled Rebuttal; REQUIRED WORDS: Dentures, Slurp; REQUIRED POETRY FORM: Decuain". Ugh...poetry with forms and words and syllables and iambic pentameter. I'm so anti all that stuff. But whatever...here goes... You might want to call it being usurped. but Dracula drinks what he is sure of. Don't think to serve him what he cannot slurp; his teeth aren't exactly what they're worth. His taste's as fearsome as his looks warrant so humor him not if you're so unsure. He'll still get drunk on your veined platelets, as long as they don't impede his dentures. You, kind soul, are the troubling that lurks so muddle your bloody rebuttal first. I've written some bad poems before, but that was a struggle. But hey, I'd do anything to get oh my gawd don't say it out loud and just shut up now But hey, there's room in the world for bad poetry, right? I guess. And if that's the last thing you ever see of my writing, I'm so sorry to have left you with that impression. Please accept my condolences for your departed feelings, kind readers, and please know that the guy who wrote the horrible "Dracula dentures" poem isn't me. I'm just a guy who appreciates rippin' his heart out from time to time and blamin' it on the poetry. If I knew I'd be using my fingers to count syllables for style points, I'd have bought more than one pair of dollar-store fleece gloves yesterday. Peace, digame que tengo ser, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oyB1PmIQRVM The video YouTube doesn't want you to see, |
 "You are making a magic brew. What does it do?"Good afternoon blog fam! Lots to get into today, plus I've got some new decorations I'd like to show off, so let's do this... To go along with my award-winning Fivesixer's Magical Elixir found exclusively at Brother Nature 's now-defunct Blogging Banana Bar, I've been tasked with coming up with another brew that makes men more handsome and causes women to lose their clothes. This is not as easy as it sounds.I know it wouldn't be bitter, yet not too sweet that it goes down like liquid candy and impairs you hurriedly. Nobody needs that kind of mess. It'd be...appealing...to a wide range of victims people...no one's gonna make fun of you at a bar or a party for nippin' from a bottle of this stuff. It'd just be the universal "good time in a drinkable form"...sounds about right. It doesn't mix well with drama or haters, so if you're bringin' any of that noise with you I suggest you order a Budweiser or a Zima. It's a drink with personality and charm...like, I swear after two or three of 'em you can see it winking at you and giving you the thumbs-up because it knows you're gonna go out of your comfort zone and ask a pretty girl to dance with you. And she'll of course say yes, because she saw that same wink/thumbs-up combo in her drink too. Why? 'Cuz it's your night! And that's the advertising tag line/slogan/whatever right there...see? Not only am I the master of a good time, but I'm also a marketing whiz! Whoooo hooooo! Somebody call the fire department, 'cuz this bloggist is on fi-yahhh!! Or, ya know...don't; it's cool. BCF PROMPT: "What would you do if it physically rained cats and dogs? How would life be different?" Seriously?? Ok, I know I'm bad when it comes to thinkin' up a prompt I'd like to see other people's takes on, but this? I've been through a lot of prompts in my day, and I'm still scratchin' my head over the idea that someone thought this was a good idea <gives the side-eye to Charlie ~ >. But I should probably shut up and keep typin', because who am I to say anything about someone else's prompt?So for real, life would be mad different. You're talkin' Mother Nature droppin' animals on your head. That's just dangerous...but think of the other societal implications that could be in play here. Maybe we'd finally get a real scientist in Congress to study the effects cats and dogs falling from the sky are having on the environment. Instead of dismissing activists as bleeding-heart liberal loonies, we'd take them seriously because you know PETA would be losing its collective shit over animals being washed down storm drains (because bigger precipitation means we need bigger sewers...that's how governments work). And umbrellas? They'd be made of easily-scratchable yet sturdier materials with rawhide handles, but they'd be hella cheaper 'cuz we'd be goin' through 'em faster, possibly disrupting the world's economy in the process because how are we supposed to handle making products to protect us from god damn animals raining down on us every couple of days? Not to mention...catch me on the wrong day when the world has smacked me in the face with a storm of puppies, and I might kill the shit outta you verbally for lookin' at me sideways. You don't wanna be around me when it's a bad day made worse by precipitated mammals. And I can't believe that some people would think this to be a "good thing", like "Oh, it's so cute outside, raining cats and dogs!" No. Fuck that, a hundred thousand times. Those are dogs and cats that are gonna shit on my lawn and tear up the garbage, with no one responsible for cleaning up after them. There's laws, people! You own a dog and it shits on someone else's property, you gotta clean that up. No ifs, ands, or buts about that. Don't be playin' me for dumb when you think your dog is innocent because he couldn't hold his poop for someone else's yard. If animals were so damn special, they'd use a toilet like the rest of us humans with opposable thumbs and complicated thought processes. No, bad, wrong, and no. And while I'm at it, all you people who think this would be like pennies from heaven and the greatest thing in the world that could ever happen? Piss off. I lived for a short while with animal rescuers, and it was no big deal to come home and find new puppies running all over. And to make matters worse, they didn't understand depression in people one bit..."How can anyone be depressed when looking at all these cute puppy faces?" (but imagine that being said in baby-talk...  ). I'll tell you what...when you're asking someone who isn't an animal person to walk them the second they get outta bed, and care for 'em and clean up after 'em, that does nothing for the depressed individual or the animals. If cute animals cured depression, that'd be fantastic...maybe if goldfish swam out of our faucets that could cure cancer, and watching monkeys doin' it at the zoo that'd be the end to AIDS. Don't tell me I don't have a reason to hate life just 'cuz you saved some puppies from being sold for profit at PetSmart or however that works, and six cats on a twin bed made for one person not much bigger than me isn't "cute"; it's a fucking inconvenience to me, them, my sleeping habits, and my allergies. I have people in my life I don't make as much of an effort for as I should, and I'm supposed to believe that puppies and kittens will make me fucking happy?? There's something very wrong with that whole scenario.Great. Now I'm all "up here" when I need to be "down here", all because of one of the most implausible prompts I've ever come across. Hope you're happy, Charlie. Hope it rains fucking cats and dogs IRL on your house someday, and you realize just how terrible it is to actually get what you wish for. Good luck with that, good sir. ** Image ID #2010042 Unavailable ** Whew. Gotta switch up some gears and get back into the love of dead musicians. Today's choice is Scott La Rock , the DJ for Boogie Down Productions.Hip-hop is known for its murders...I know someone already covered Tupac, and I had an entry all written up for the Notorious B.I.G. before I scrapped it, because if we're being honest here I was never really big on either of 'em. I went with Eazy-E and ODB earlier, but they weren't as influential in my opinion as BDP was (and they also weren't murdered). Scott La Rock though...bad place, bad time. He was a social worker who met KRS-One at a facility for homeless men, and he ultimately led Kris Parker out of the street life that would've only ended in crime and other societal ills. When another member of the BDP posse was having problems with a dude because he was dating that dude's ex, Scott, Kris, and the crew rolled up on the scene to settle things...instead, they got shot at, and Scott La Rock took a bullet to the neck. Dude was there to mediate a simple discussion between two grown men, and wound up losing his life because someone thought a gun was the better answer in a dispute. His killer(s) were acquitted, and KRS-One redirected the focus of BDP to preserving Scott's memory and railing against violence between African Americans. I consider BDP to be hugely influential...I grew up listening to a lot of music, and gravitated toward hip-hop at a young age because there was a history being taught that I wasn't getting anywhere else. And while it was easy to fall for the bombast of NWA and other gangsta rap groups out there, real life was being addressed by Public Enemy and Boogie Down Productions. It wasn't "grab your guns and let's kill people because we're poor", it was "grab your books and learn how to use your brain to overcome this shitty society". There are different ways of being militant, and this was one that spoke to me. It sounds all silly and dated now, but stopping violence isn't something that should be shoved under the carpet via trends or demographics. It's sad that even today we have to teach our youth that killing someone over stupid shit isn't the answer to anyone's problems.  Special thanks are in order for Legerdemain  , who cleaned up this slice of internet pizza with some dope new images. Become a "Blogging Circle of Friends " "Blogger Of The Week" enough times and the closet of imagery in your head might open up for you too.  Let's not even think about cats and dogs being rained down upon us...how about what science has already provided us with now? So I did a stupid thing today, and I always do it when I have a li'l extra scratch to play around with...I ate me some Burger King. And of course, it was like most fast food options...sounds kick-ass because you're bombarded with ads, but it leaves you feeling less than fulfilled. Super-questioning my life choices after the debacle that is french fries and beef on rolls, because nobody in their right mind should ever eat an extra-long cheeseburger, even when you request bacon on it. It's been like five hours and this stuff still hasn't passed through my body on its way to the porcelain grave...but it could've been worse, and I suppose I should be thankful it wasn't . And in my mind's clouded state of bacon cheeseburger goodness, I stopped of in a Dollar General to find a Kanye West cd I didn't know I needed. I got home, prepared to drop it in my iTunes library, and realized it was the "edited" version. That's $6 I'll never see again, because why should any adult buy an edited version of anything? You already know what the cusswords are, and it's not like you can't figure out what a censored word is in context. Censorship in general is stupid...you can't tell me that if I typed "fxxx" instead of "fuck" you'd let your kid read this only because I was cute about my censoring, when we all know and refuse to admit your kid knows what "fxxx" means. Yeah, we sit there and say "these fuckin' kids...", but refuse to admit they hear the eff word a lot more than we think, or think that beeping over it or crossing it out will suddenly change their view of it. Why bother? If you're gonna say "fuck", let it be heard, because it doesn't matter anyway that you tried to cover it up...everyone knows what you meant regardless. Super-excited, because I'm a pen nerd and I made this happen today... Best pens ever. So smooth and clean; I think we had a convo about pens, didn't we 💙 Carly  ? Found 'em! Makes me excited to pen down a note to groovygirl, who I was assigned through Elle - on hiatus  's "The Snail Mail Forum" . Nice grip, smooth output...when you work in customer service and showing up with a pen is vital to your job, you grow attached to pens that aren't the garden-variety Bic joints that you can get at certain times of the year 10@$1.00. No. Quality overrides quantity...y'all are writer people, so feel me on this. I'll take five Xenos for $5 at Staples over ten Bics for a buck. Clearly the best decision I made today.And we're done here for today. I've already apologized to Charlie ~ for my tirade regarding his prompt selection, and there's a football game I should be showing some interest in...so peace, sometimes I wear a hat, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
 "Twenty years from now, what song will remind you of the summer of 2014?"What's up folks? Interesting Blog City prompt here, because I never really considered such a question before...it's hard sometimes to consider what you do in the present when compared with how you'll remember it down the road. And that's not quite how that last sentence should be worded, but I know what I mean, so you'll have that. I can look at it this way...nothing of major significance happened to me in the summer of 2014, which I guess is a good thing. And I can relate moments often enough to songs, but I have no memories this particular year...no torch-bearing moments of greatness soundtracked by any artists or songs. And on top of that, my focus lately has been on the "Resurrection Jukebox" and coming up with dead musicians...or adding to my iTunes library from the hordes of cds my ex felt I didn't deserve to own when we she decided I was no longer welcome in her life. Not that I pay much attention to current music or anything anyway, but that's as good an excuse as I've got for blowing off this summer as being underwhelming musically.But ask me now how I remember the summer songs of '94...I think that was the year I got my first portable cd player, and I joined one of those "12 cds for a penny" clubs to start building my collection. I was all over the place...Alice In Chains, Sly And The Family Stone, Rage Against The Machine, and whatever else I could bump on the discman through my car's speakers. That summer went from making mixtapes to finding a cassette adapter and modifying my Plymouth Horizon's center console to minimize skipping. Some of y'all will never know the joys and frustrations associated with having to use a portable cd player in your ride. So yeah...I guess I'm at a loss here. Nothing of note happened, and there were (to me) no great songs worthy of making anything else that might've occurred this summer more memorable. Maybe next year. MUSICAL BREAK!! ** Image ID #2010042 Unavailable ** Michael Larsen was one half of Eyedea & Abilities (the Eyedea half), who recorded on the legendary indie rap label Rhymesayers Entertainment. I wasn't crazy into 'em...I don't think I even have any E&A in my collection, but I thought I might've owned some through an RSE sampler or somethin'. Guess not. But for some reason I started following them on Facebook, and now Larsen's mom updates his status every so often...it's sad and touching, because it puts a whole different perspective on a life you wouldn't normally know much of anything about besides what the artist wants you to see. His cause of death is listed as "accidental opiate toxicity"...a fancy way of sayin' "heroin OD", although the results of the reports were never made fully public. It was almost four years ago to the day that he never woke up. I wish I had some cool story about Eyedea or his music, but I don't...and that's to me the hard part of a challenge like the Res Juke. We're celebrating artists who no longer can give us a new sense of excitement or enjoyment. We'll never know if that person was able to reach their true potential...who knows, maybe Eyedea could've given us the universally accepted "Summer Jam Of 2014". Anyway, "Smile" is E&A's most popular YouTube video, and for good reason...poignant lyrics intelligently laid through a drum and bass track that almost overshadows the personal nature of the song itself. In my opinion, the song is filled with life and words to help you live it...and sometimes that's all some people really need to help get them through the day. "I can only build if I tear the walls down. Even if it breaks me I won't let it make me frown. I'm falling but no matter how hard I hit the ground ...I'll still smile." Lyrics. THE DAILY BOX SCORE: Why am I so fascinated and humored by this stuff? More examples of people using social media to broadcast how inept they are at the English language...22 crimes against words .And that's where I'll leave you today...it's a dreary, rainy afternoon and it's sapping what little day-off motivation I have to do anything. Peace, time taught me how to see every second as heaven even though they're perfectly disguised as Hell, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
Well hello there, fancy people! I'm back from my trip to the great Western New York, and while I had another outstanding time, I really missed you guys! It's nice once in awhile to be able to take a break from the things you're puttin' up with on the reality side...but I'm back in my positive element, ready to break heads with words in a place where I can concentrate on just that (well, that and the distraction level...here it's all on me). I enjoyed my "fall break"...I ate my favorite meal the whole freakin' time (various turkey and stuffing combos...the dinner, the late night sandwiches, the stuffing...lots of stuffing...almost all the stuffing); chicken wings, hot roast beef sandwiches...c'mon y'all, don't make me get all "Buffalo menu" on y'all! I'd be here for days tryna capitalize on the sensation of local food. I also got to watch hockey and football on screens bigger than this here Toshiba laptop, did well (16/20, with a little help) on some barroom trivia, and hung out with my man Cullen for his 8th birthday. Homie's got Spina Bifida, but as soon as he sees me we're down for whatever. I walked in to his party and he was all like "What'd you do today? Why are you here?" and I was like "'cuz yer gettin' old!". Then he tried to lay down on me, which would've worked if I'd napped right away (and I was so ready to), but hey, Cullen's my boy like that, and what he says goes when I'm around. His friends on the other hand...hey, I'm not here to judge or anything, but they're jerks. Coulda done more stuff if I wanted to, but let him do his thing with his friends. I'm sure I'll get another chance to chill with him soon enough where he'll school me in video games many adults (like myself, and I use the word "adult" loosely) don't even bother with anymore, like GTA: V or Call Of Duty or whatever "shoot 'em up" Xbox games he's into now. All I know is there's now a serious need for me to have a birthday party soon, because kids rake in cash and useful stuff like it's no big deal; meanwhile I'm gettin' screwfaced from other kids because "hey, here's a fiver 'cuz I barely know ya, I'm a poor college student, and what the frig else do you need that you can't get for $5 at the age of eight?". Turns out there's a lot of shit, and I'm so illy-prepared in the pre-teen eyes to make a difference in their world. But fuck it; thanks to my mom for busting out a birthday card for someone who was having a get-together that I didn't even know I was going to until I got to WNY. So yay for birthdays! I do regret that I didn't give myself a chance to dive into his pizza and wings. I swear fo' gawd, you can feed me chicken wings 24/7 when I'm home and I'll be happyfied...unless it's turkey dinner weekend, in which case I'll still be happyfied, because that was awesome. Anyway...these prompts, before I go back into my daily grind...  "Let's talk about Halloween candy. Favorite, worst, or fond memories of a particular treat - share with us."Yes...yes, let's talk about this, because I love me some candy.  All kidding aside, let's get this outta the way: I'm all for taking kids trick-or-treating, because then I can inspect the candy to make sure I get all the Reese's peanut butter cups no jackass put needles or staples up in that sugary goodness. There's some sick fucks out there I guess in the candy-making business who still manage to get by all the security protocols long enough to dump a few boxes of office supplies (you know, all the shit that gets stolen from your employers on the premise that they make boatloads of cash and won't miss some paper clips, based on the advent that you might need 'em someday) into the nougat machine. I don't get this concept at all, but it was enough of a "big scare" when I was a kid that trick-or-treating was off the table for a few years. Who in their right mind cares enough about their religion to buy some bags of candy to hand out at Halloween, but first takes the time to jam staples or needles in 'em? Who sits there all like, "These pagan kids are gonna feel the wrath of GAWD when they get through with me! Celebratin' their lack of Jesus...not on my lawn!!" Seriously? Westboro Baptist Church is on line one, and they need a new pastor. How about...don't buy the candy, turn your porch light off, and actually read that bible, with its verses of acceptance for all and not poisoning little kids who don't know any better and are just lookin' for a good time with some free candy on the side? Be a good sport or don't be a sport at all, nutjobbers of the world. And hey, before I get too overzealous, you people giving out fruit and/or pennies...stop that! Don't be a dick. We didn't show up on your porch for preaching, financial wisdom, or fruits. Fucking fruits! I know apples are in season and all, and they're healthy...but thanks for giving out the one thing a sewing needle could very easily be bitten into, ya classless fucks. Halloween is for the kids, not your religious revenge theorisms. That goddamned apple in my treats bag didn't stop me from overindulging on the sugar until I puked, so what's the point? Be a good neighbor, ask me gently to mow your lawn, and bake me a fucking pie instead! Win-win, y'all! Who doesn't love a well-earned apple pie? Beats luggin' an apple in your costumed booty bag, that's fo' sho'. BCF PROMPT: "Today is Ada Lovelace Day. I bet you are wondering who she is...I'll give you one hint~ She's Lord Byron's daughter Augusta Ada Byron, and she was raised by her mother Annabelle. She is a powerful symbol for womanhood. Do you know what she is noted for doing? Did you know about this woman? Did you know October 14th was celebrated in her honor? If you would rather talk about her famous father I would love to read that too." That's a goddamned mouthful of a prompt if I've ever seen one. And full disclosure here: before I jumped on Google to sound like I knew what I was talking about, I Lyn's a sly fox  'd up my knowledge in confirmation of what I learned in my Intro To Prog (as in programming, and unfortunately not progressive rock) class...Lady Ada is the mother of computer programming. She worked with...(and don't make me dig out my notebook to come up with his name...the dude who realized he could invent a computer to do all his work for him make and hold calculations- Charles Babbich? Babbage? Can't quite remember the spelling, but they sound similar)...yeah, that guy. She invented the basis for coding. And as much as my teacher drilled her into our heads the last few weeks, I highly doubt we'll be getting cupcakes in our next class in celebration of this very day or discovery.Truthfully, I didn't know today was her birthday (then again, I don't know when any of your birthdays are unless Facebook tells me it is or Charlie ~ sends out his chunk of BCOF-sponsored birthday truthisms). Well job Charlie, by the way...thanks for keeping me updated on the b-days of members who are no longer active in the BCOF .Seriously though, this internet y'all know and take for granted wasn't just put there...Lady Ada created the basis for it. Fuck Al Gore and his "I invented the internet" rhetoric...that's cute Albert, but tell your internet how The StoryMaster  and The StoryMistress  should make something that allows us to interface with, oh, I dunno, the world, and let it be so palatable. Can't, huh Al? It's called "code", brah...and thank/praise the woman who thought it was so necessary well before we even thought computers were necessary.  It looks better when it's bigger. Resizing sucks. MUSICAL BREAK!! ** Image ID #2010042 Unavailable ** Davy Jones y'all...just like all the pretty (and not-so-pretty) girls of the 60's said. Or thought. Davy Jones. Prop me up against a thorned bush before I start gettin' dreamy.  I'm not ashamed to admit my very first concert was The Monkees, with 'Weird Al' Yankovic opening (but if you ask me about my first concert, I'll tell you Metallica, with Danzig and Suicidal Tendencies). It was the height of their mid-80's cash grab, slurping on the notoriety of their TV show gettin' play on Nickelodeon and MTV, rerun-style. Then you go back, as a kid, into your mom's vinyl collection, and see just how much she loved them based on what she wrote on the album jackets. No kid that age needs to be disturbed by that, Davy Jones and your mushroom haircut...or your weird British 80's mullet. Anyway... Before my aunt passed, she'd fly us out to Connecticut for a week, and take us on amazing adventures. And one happened to be the Monkees on a rotating stage. It was the coolest...got to see them close, playin' the hits, and compared concert programs with this dorky girl that sat next to me in the 6th grade who didn't believe that I actually got to see The Monkees (which, in hindsight, was better than sitting next to the Bon Jovi groupie-wannabe). OMFG shut up. Fast-forward to this week, when this happened:  Usually when I go to Walmart, nothing good comes from it. But they had this package, which is the first five Monkees albums on cd for $20. Five for $20! That's a tremendous deal! And the sleeve for each cd is a reproduction of the original album art, front and back! I know I'm not the only one who gets excited about this kinda stuff! So here's your Monkees song as part of the "Resurrection Jukebox" . I'm not goin' with the obvious choices...that's not me. The deep cuts are where it's at.THE DAILY BOX SCORE: My dear UK friends, can you verify this selection of American foods at your local grocery store for me? And may I add...the American diet does not solely consist of candy, Pop Tarts and peanut butter (despite the fact that mine does). There's gotta be a way for decent hot dogs (because not all hot dogs are considered equal, for good reason) and maybe some Crunch 'n Munch to make it into your displays. And then there's this proof that I'm basically a grumpy old man . It's legit...I'm pretty much all of these things, wrapped in a sorta catchy 39-year-old shell. If women my age can become crazy cat ladies, I'll forever resign myself to being that guy who's always warning the kids on the sidewalk to stay off his lawn. Even if I don't currently have a lawn. And whaddya know...looks like we've got ourselves a blog entry here! Now to figure out what to do with the rest of my day...peace, no bird of grace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! I'll take beef candy...oh wait, that's called jerky. |
** Image ID #2010042 Unavailable ** I wanted to save this song for the last day of the "Resurrection Jukebox" , but I can't because its meaning to me swells a little more whenever I think about it. It's probably the best tribute to dead musicians I've ever heard...the ambiguous lyrics transcend genres, forms, styles, and such, and much like the album it first appeared on it was transcendent when compared to the rest of the Deftones' catalog. Moving away from straighter metal grooves into a more crushing yet ambient sound, it was harder hitting in its emotional depth. It was the exhale when you know something heavier is on its way; the the change I'd seen was now complete, and this was the unexpected growth that accompanied such kinds of success.And my journey to the Deftones came through musical exploration with my boy DMFM...he helped me realize that music wasn't just background wallpaper; it could also be a centerpiece in conversation, situations, and life itself. It's no secret that he's a huge part of every single music video I stick in blog entries, whether he knows it or not and regardless of how much he enjoys the bands I play (he's notorious for ripping the shit out of your cd collection when presented the opportunity, and there have been days when we've hung out that he's explicitly stated "I need something Dave-friendly" in response to what I'd been listening to when he walked in to 542 back in the day). He was into the Deftones years before they were gettin' play on MTV2, but all I heard were rap-metal guitars and some dude shout-chanting. I had my "a-ha!" moment around the time we were roommates, which coincided with the more palatable White Pony, but their self-titled follow-up was a tremendous shift in the dynamics of our relationship...details of which aren't as important as what was to eventually follow. Everyone has their "Cancer story"...I have mine from when I was younger, but when you see it live and up close and aren't shielded from it, you can't help but feel changed. You're facing your best friend's- your brother's- mortality. You don't know what's happening, regardless of how much you keep in touch and try to stay supportive and up-to-date on all the info. This dude, who's seen you through your own share of life's whatevers, is now facing the biggest battle of his life. And now that battle becomes yours as well. My boy...rock solid stand-up brother through thick and thin (and there have been a lot of "thick and thins" between us both)...damn. When your best friend also has the best hair of everyone you know, and he shows up at your work one day because he can't wait for you to get done because it's time to get rid of the last follicles chemo didn't take...excuse me. I need a minute here. My boy...we as his many friends once buried his mom prematurely because of Cancer...now conceding that I had to shave his head because his hair was falling out. I don't get emotional over much, and I rarely speak to it of I do, but fuck (and sorry ma...I know you hate f-words in posts unrelated to this and we have our own Cancer story, but this one's mine and situations are different)...like, I knew it was real and all, but this was real. I gotta shave my man's head! Because of Cancer! Don't front; I won't...when the thought of someone's mortality- someone so close to you- creeps in, you get highly emotional...fuckin' "what if's" and all that shit. You're facing death like you don't know how to, because you don't know how else to. We made a night of it at 542. All our mutually-favorite music, a lot of whisky straight, and as few tears as possible. How else do you tell someone you love so much that you're scared that there's a chance they might not be around anymore, especially when you're shaving their head in the face of it? And then you've gotta stay strong on top of it, because fuck that...the Cancer terrorists win when they see weaknesses perpetrated against them, and not on my watch. Anyway, I know this is already a long story so I'll cut it short...he beat the damn thing (one nut down, and now he's the proud father of a beautiful little baby girl). I made him a mix disc to get him through the chemo trips at Roswell (the greatest Cancer treatment facility in the world ), and he had to know- he had to know- how appreciative I was for his place in my life. "Minerva" was my best attempt at gratitude (because I'm really bad at showing it through other means, and one cd or mini-disc certainly at that point couldn't define us as a whole through all we'd seen each other through).And if I'm not mistaken, this particular Deftones cd is the last with bassist Chi Cheng. He passed a few years ago after a car crash left him comatose. When singer Chino Moreno wanted a more relaxed sound that focused on atmospherics, Cheng wanted an even harder, crushing metal sound...further proof that no matter what the outcome is, you can go to war with your brothers over anything and for anything, but the end result is still something beautiful, moving, and incredible. It's often stated under a wide variety of circumstances that "If I can make a difference/change one person's mind/use myself as an example", I'll be "a success" in "what happened". You don't always need to see eye-to-eye to be a better person or show your appreciation. Respect and admiration will almost always ease the pain and trouble (and please...I'm not trying to take anything away from anyone's current diagnoses or struggles) from so many situations, and even the simplest of gestures, while not often acknowledged immediately, can provide a greater comfort than what's visible. Dave, kid, I know we haven't talked in awhile, but you know I love you brother for all that you've done for me when I needed someone- anyone- to understand me, and I wouldn't be half the human being I am now without you. Even though our paths have diverged in recent years (yes, now it's been two years), I miss you. And I thank you for all that you've meant to me over the last half of our lives. There isn't a word of this song that doesn't apply "So God bless you all..." to all we've been through. "For the song you saved us." Lyrics and interpretations. |
** Image ID #2010042 Unavailable ** Today in the "Resurrection Jukebox" , "the 'big man' joined the band". Like any ol' kid in the early 80's, Bruce Springsteen was an idol because girls loved him and women adored him...plus he was what dads wanted to be and moms wanted to be with dudes like him. I'm guessin', at least...I have no insider info on this other than when I got my first tape player/recorder from my aunt, it was a Panasonic joint that sat across the table unlike a boom box, as if it were meant to be held up against a transistor radio in the earliest of forms of music piracy. And my first tapes were Rick Springfield cassettes because my mother confused him with Bruce Springsteen. Guess bein' a stay-at-home mom watchin' soap operas will lead you to that .So for that reason you could say I took the long way around to Bruce (even if I eventually cobbled up enough allowance booty to allow myself to own a copy of Born In The U.S.A.)...landmark as it was, but I had no idea he was some kind of champion for the middle class. He was the spokesman for a generation before I knew what that meant or entailed. And before he was even thought of as that, he was rockin' bar band music for the people bustin' their asses day-in and day-out...I can only imagine that New Jersey workin' folks were like "fuggeddabouddit man...come to the E. Street Band gig tonight, where we'll drink our faces off over this". I think I speak for so many children of Rust Belt cities and everyone who's ever gone to a quote-unquote classic rock bar with a band playing that we owe Bruce Springsteen at least a little bit of gratitude for our upbringing. If he wasn't "the voice of a generation", he was the voice of the generation that raised us...even if that generation's way of raising us wasn't the same as they were raised, and/or that way of raising kids was now outmoded by technology, television, layoffs, politics, or shitty and now unethical business practices. Bruce spoke (and still does) to the past, and righteousness, and unity among the "little people" who still get fucked over in small towns. He gives his fans their money's worth and then some at shows, and he still resonates among generations unlike some performers of his age, who are content with sucking on the teats of past success for a few extra bucks. And like I said, I got into Bruce and his E. Street Band the long way. I worked <they don't merit the promotion> that pumped in the obligatory "shop here" muzak, and one of the songs on heavy rotation was "10th Avenue Freeze-Out".Of course, after time, it became a favorite...like, the day would be ok, but once that song came on, it'd make the day that much better when compared to all of the other shitty music I'd have to put up with for a paycheck before I got to listen to anything else in my personal collection. Clarence Clemons was Bruce's sax player then, and was for a long, long-ass time. And like a true old-school "you were always my guy then, so you're always gonna be my guy" type of loyalist, he remained until he died. And then Bruce gave the sax job to Clemons' nephew Jake...keepin' the family in the biz/keepin' the business in the fam. Noble move that Bruce, even though...well, his personal business is none of mine. So yeah...my favorite Bruce Springsteen and the E. Street Band number... "When Scooter and the Big Man bust this city in half with a Tenth Avenue freeze-out..." Lyrics and interpretations. |
** Image ID #2010042 Unavailable ** Today in the "Resurrection Jukebox" , I'm goin' with Weezer and their once-unfortunate cast of bass players. Mikey Welsh only played on one Weezer album, the "Green" album comeback from their hiatus, and while it wasn't a noteworthy appearance, his subsequent departure was. He suffered a nervous breakdown because of years of drug abuse combined with the rigors of touring, attempted suicide via overdose, and wound up in a brief coma. Welsh left the band to raise his family, focus on various other forms of artwork, and died from heart failure brought on from a suspected OD."You've got your problems... I've got my eyes wide. You've got your big G's... I've got my hash pipe." Lyrics and interpretations. |
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