Okay, things I'm digging currently, tis cool to share:
The Kills - I totally missed the Seattle show, I so suck, they so fucking rock!!!!
"I want you to be crazy baby, cuz you're stupid when your sane" right on.
It's like X frosted with the Pixies, with a splash of the White Stripes, a dash of Sonic Youth...oh furk, they need no comparison, they ate my rock n' roll soul, chewed it and spit it out and I love them all the more for it. Music lust. LOVE THEM!
John From Cincinatti - An HBO series so amazingly smart and thoughtful my mind exploded with every episode when I watched the first run on HBO. Surf's up folks and my father says it's all good. "See God Kai" and we'll never know if she does because the suits at HBO didn't have the balls to continue on with it (fuckwits). It was indeed cancelled, pissshitfuckdayum.com, buy the DVD and tweak out yer mind. It's full on amazing and weird, just how I like it.
Boomsday - Christopher Buckley rocked me with this book. Social Security reform, anarchy, politics...farce abounds. Satire forever. Read it.
Alrighty, that is all...Hillary won Kentucky, Obama won Oregon...it's cool like that. ooooooooooooooo, look at me posting two days in a row...*sigh*
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
Write on with the diddly
Maintaining a blog can be about as fun as reading a blog that never posts diddlysquat.
Diddlysquat, I believe that it was George Carlin who asked, "What exactly is diddlysquat?” Well, I'm here to tell you. Diddlysquat is everything, but it don't mean diddly. And when you diddle, not to say that all things diddle, but they do, does it mean squat?
Yes, everything is everything. With that said (a supreme line of bullshit indeed) you will see that I neglect to write regularly. I lack many things in life but mostly I lack willpower and discipline. Sure, under the right circumstance or situation I'm a devilish hoot, but I try like hell to be less hootie and more blowfish....er....um...perhaps not blowfish, but you get the drift, I've got this human thing going on and I'm fallible and lazy.
Art has always been a more tactile experience for me, that is until I started writing, blurbing, schmurbing, blogging...and then it stopped. Many friends and family asked why, I said I was lazy, tired, spent and I was but everything and others words and perceptions brought me back here and I know I have to write on. So, forgive my lazy ass (like a lazy eye, but without the patch). I will come to terms with the will to write and practice the discipline it takes write stuff, diddlysquat and assorted other babble, if not for myself, then for the abyss of the web and its assorted and loverly residents.
It may not make sense, but I think I know what I'm doing, kind of.
Diddlysquat, I believe that it was George Carlin who asked, "What exactly is diddlysquat?” Well, I'm here to tell you. Diddlysquat is everything, but it don't mean diddly. And when you diddle, not to say that all things diddle, but they do, does it mean squat?
Yes, everything is everything. With that said (a supreme line of bullshit indeed) you will see that I neglect to write regularly. I lack many things in life but mostly I lack willpower and discipline. Sure, under the right circumstance or situation I'm a devilish hoot, but I try like hell to be less hootie and more blowfish....er....um...perhaps not blowfish, but you get the drift, I've got this human thing going on and I'm fallible and lazy.
Art has always been a more tactile experience for me, that is until I started writing, blurbing, schmurbing, blogging...and then it stopped. Many friends and family asked why, I said I was lazy, tired, spent and I was but everything and others words and perceptions brought me back here and I know I have to write on. So, forgive my lazy ass (like a lazy eye, but without the patch). I will come to terms with the will to write and practice the discipline it takes write stuff, diddlysquat and assorted other babble, if not for myself, then for the abyss of the web and its assorted and loverly residents.
It may not make sense, but I think I know what I'm doing, kind of.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
A New Hope
In the historical footnotes of life you will, at this juncture of our political existence, find the persevering message of "hope". You know what hope is, right? It's that ache of anticipation residing deep within your belly whenever something good or bad is about to happen. It's going to happen, with or without you. So it is suggested that you suck it up and deal. Swell.
This blog, me, moi, and the assorted other personalities that reside within my psyche are supporting Senator Barack Obama for President of these pretty and ever so purple United States Of America. Why? It's not the color of his skin, skin color has never had any influence on any decision that I have made in this life; however, it is the senators' ballsy message of "hope" - audacious indeed.
The war has worn us down, the economy rips at what's left in our wallets, and the status quo in D.C. (the vitriolic bullshit that is American politics) has worn us the fuck out. Blah to it all.
Hope. It's what we feel when we awake every day. First and foremost, we hope that we wake up and when we do how fucking lucky are we? Very lucky. Hope is all we have ever really have had in this life on the spinning rock. Nothing, I repeat, NOTHING is a given and we take it for granted every day; we bitch, we moan in pleasure in pain, we ignore the realities of the inevitable (death, or so they say and we all know about "they", ahem.). We are so arrogant in our thought processes. Hope, it's all we got. Sure, love is all we need, but it's hope that spurns the process of loving, acceptance and tolerance.
I sat on the fence for some time being a feminazigirliethang. I wanted Hillary to be the answer to all the ills of our world, but it ended up being politics as usual and that left a nasty taste in my mouth. Notice to politicians: It has been said that eating pineapple reduces the unsavory taste of nasty political spunk. Try it, as I find it hard enough to swallow that we are one nation under God, when I believe that we are one world under the cosmos (the concept of one God is super fantastic, but a few atoms got in the way) and that all acts of the positive nature will see us through the unknown.
It is not about a black man and a woman (finally, after all this fucking time) it's about a positive message, it is about leadership with a positive effect, and not about who'll answer the fucking phone at 3 a.m. Sweet Mary.
Get down with your purple self and be real about what matters and what truly matters is the message of the promise of a hopeful new day.
Hope: it's all we got. Vote Barack Obama this fall, or not. Again as I've always muttered, the choice is yours. Just see outside of your current reality and touch, smell, and live what is our one saving grace, and that is HOPE. Dig?
This blog, me, moi, and the assorted other personalities that reside within my psyche are supporting Senator Barack Obama for President of these pretty and ever so purple United States Of America. Why? It's not the color of his skin, skin color has never had any influence on any decision that I have made in this life; however, it is the senators' ballsy message of "hope" - audacious indeed.
The war has worn us down, the economy rips at what's left in our wallets, and the status quo in D.C. (the vitriolic bullshit that is American politics) has worn us the fuck out. Blah to it all.
Hope. It's what we feel when we awake every day. First and foremost, we hope that we wake up and when we do how fucking lucky are we? Very lucky. Hope is all we have ever really have had in this life on the spinning rock. Nothing, I repeat, NOTHING is a given and we take it for granted every day; we bitch, we moan in pleasure in pain, we ignore the realities of the inevitable (death, or so they say and we all know about "they", ahem.). We are so arrogant in our thought processes. Hope, it's all we got. Sure, love is all we need, but it's hope that spurns the process of loving, acceptance and tolerance.
I sat on the fence for some time being a feminazigirliethang. I wanted Hillary to be the answer to all the ills of our world, but it ended up being politics as usual and that left a nasty taste in my mouth. Notice to politicians: It has been said that eating pineapple reduces the unsavory taste of nasty political spunk. Try it, as I find it hard enough to swallow that we are one nation under God, when I believe that we are one world under the cosmos (the concept of one God is super fantastic, but a few atoms got in the way) and that all acts of the positive nature will see us through the unknown.
It is not about a black man and a woman (finally, after all this fucking time) it's about a positive message, it is about leadership with a positive effect, and not about who'll answer the fucking phone at 3 a.m. Sweet Mary.
Get down with your purple self and be real about what matters and what truly matters is the message of the promise of a hopeful new day.
Hope: it's all we got. Vote Barack Obama this fall, or not. Again as I've always muttered, the choice is yours. Just see outside of your current reality and touch, smell, and live what is our one saving grace, and that is HOPE. Dig?
Friday, May 02, 2008
Change - d again
"Be the change you want to see in the world" - Gandhi,
Okay, I can be the change I want to see in the world. That is if change would be so kind as to cut me some slack for just a fricken’ minute so that I can process and proceed. I have no choice but to allow change to form the future course of life as I thought I knew it to be. I'm changes bitch. Ugh.
Change in my life is not unlike loose change that you can find in your pocket, on your dresser, and at the bottom of your purse (or “man-bag," if you will). If I could only bottle all the loose change lying around I’d be rich, but at this moment it is scattered about wreaking havoc on my floor, my washing machine and growing hair on the bottom of a water-logged red leather purse. I want to be rich; I just can’t gather all the change and make a dollar or any sense of it all. I self medicate and supplement it with a dollop of pharmaceutical aid courtesy of the the gynecologist who, with her hand up my girlie unit, divulged that if I didn't chill out soon I'd have a heart attack. Golly.
Water changed the course of my life recently. The hot water hose connected to the washer in the apartment that I never fully moved into decided to Katrina the living shit out of my belongings as I labored away for 12 hours for a thankless, soul-less, burned out troll. It was on that day that water made the bold decision to make changes for me. It decided what was to be gone from life, and it decided I had to move – again. I still don’t know what I have left of the past but I know the future doesn’t have room for it.
As the year has passed the new job has mutated into just "the job" and as the corporate leadership mafia reevaluates the nature of changes within the industry and the economy our evil boss has opted to step down. A self demotion before those of the "they" the very "they" of the "they just don't understand" ilk that we are so accustomed to blaming all-that-is-wrong in the book business on; those of “they” who convey the change we resist, decided to step her right the fuck out of the store. Karma has a play date with change – News at 11. I won’t go into details, but with this change brings more change - another new direction out of my control - but exciting nonetheless.
My body has changed, for the better. Oddly, a diet of stress garnished with Xanax, Zoloft, beer and other assorted carbohydrate combinations eaten on-the-fly while I attempted to corral the constant irrational change at work has attributed to a waistline long forgotten. It was change that brought on the belly and change that tames it now.
The political world has embraced a woman and a black man as candidates for the Presidency – Holy fucking change up the ying-yang Batman! This is a change long time coming and it’s beautiful. It changes how we see and discuss our ever changing future and we’re looking at issues we haven’t had the balls to address without protest or riot in as many years as I’ve been alive.
Change is life as we know it, we only deceive ourselves by grasping onto routines and subjective acts of normalcy and calling it all good while underlying factors melt our realities. Fuck change. Embrace change. Change has fucked me in the ass time and time again and like the President before me I couldn't - or rather wouldn't - support an exit strategy and admit failure to comprehend all the change. Change is nothing more than the reaction to an action and boy is my ass sore but apparently ready to take on more. Ummm.....twisted and demented analogy, indeed. The good news is that I'm writing again and hopefully I will continue to do as such as I want to be the change that I expect to see in the world. I mean, why the fuck not?
I'm back, miss me much? ;)
Okay, I can be the change I want to see in the world. That is if change would be so kind as to cut me some slack for just a fricken’ minute so that I can process and proceed. I have no choice but to allow change to form the future course of life as I thought I knew it to be. I'm changes bitch. Ugh.
Change in my life is not unlike loose change that you can find in your pocket, on your dresser, and at the bottom of your purse (or “man-bag," if you will). If I could only bottle all the loose change lying around I’d be rich, but at this moment it is scattered about wreaking havoc on my floor, my washing machine and growing hair on the bottom of a water-logged red leather purse. I want to be rich; I just can’t gather all the change and make a dollar or any sense of it all. I self medicate and supplement it with a dollop of pharmaceutical aid courtesy of the the gynecologist who, with her hand up my girlie unit, divulged that if I didn't chill out soon I'd have a heart attack. Golly.
Water changed the course of my life recently. The hot water hose connected to the washer in the apartment that I never fully moved into decided to Katrina the living shit out of my belongings as I labored away for 12 hours for a thankless, soul-less, burned out troll. It was on that day that water made the bold decision to make changes for me. It decided what was to be gone from life, and it decided I had to move – again. I still don’t know what I have left of the past but I know the future doesn’t have room for it.
As the year has passed the new job has mutated into just "the job" and as the corporate leadership mafia reevaluates the nature of changes within the industry and the economy our evil boss has opted to step down. A self demotion before those of the "they" the very "they" of the "they just don't understand" ilk that we are so accustomed to blaming all-that-is-wrong in the book business on; those of “they” who convey the change we resist, decided to step her right the fuck out of the store. Karma has a play date with change – News at 11. I won’t go into details, but with this change brings more change - another new direction out of my control - but exciting nonetheless.
My body has changed, for the better. Oddly, a diet of stress garnished with Xanax, Zoloft, beer and other assorted carbohydrate combinations eaten on-the-fly while I attempted to corral the constant irrational change at work has attributed to a waistline long forgotten. It was change that brought on the belly and change that tames it now.
The political world has embraced a woman and a black man as candidates for the Presidency – Holy fucking change up the ying-yang Batman! This is a change long time coming and it’s beautiful. It changes how we see and discuss our ever changing future and we’re looking at issues we haven’t had the balls to address without protest or riot in as many years as I’ve been alive.
Change is life as we know it, we only deceive ourselves by grasping onto routines and subjective acts of normalcy and calling it all good while underlying factors melt our realities. Fuck change. Embrace change. Change has fucked me in the ass time and time again and like the President before me I couldn't - or rather wouldn't - support an exit strategy and admit failure to comprehend all the change. Change is nothing more than the reaction to an action and boy is my ass sore but apparently ready to take on more. Ummm.....twisted and demented analogy, indeed. The good news is that I'm writing again and hopefully I will continue to do as such as I want to be the change that I expect to see in the world. I mean, why the fuck not?
I'm back, miss me much? ;)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)