SCIENCE!

Post Hoc Emo Procter Hoc

I had to go into the office today for the first time in forever. On the 405 north going past Long Beach airport, I was punching buttons on the stereo and U2's "New Year's Day" came on. It's a song I half-like; overplayed, but nice noises. I was thinking how overblown and crummy Bono's lyrics were. Just as he sang the line "this is the Golden Age, and gold is the reason for the wars we wage", one of the Air Force's gigantic new C-17 Globemaster III transport planes loomed out of the haze over me as it left the Boeing facility at the airport, headed out to sea. Soon it will be lugging tanks and guns and scared 19-year-olds to Iraq. Nice MTV moment there, O Demiurge.

My ID card didn't work at the office and we all made Logan's Run jokes. Then after some meeting stuff we had a lunch meeting at the Buggy Whip. This is an ancient steakhouse near the L.A. airport that is stuck in 1962. It's cave dark inside, red leather booths, old waitresses with whisky 'n' cigarettes voices. I ate Florida Stone Crab Claws, salad with Green Goddess dressing, and a 22 oz. porterhouse steak with mashed potatoes and spinach. The waitress made gravelly small talk with us. My coworker H. paid since he was taking us out to celebrate his new master's degree and thank us for covering for him during school times over the last couple years.

I also had to learn the network architecture of our New Big Thing. Fortunately my coworker J., who set all this up, is not only an excellent Internet Roadie who does the networking shit right, but he documented it all meticulously. Thank you J., even more than thank you H. for the pile of meat.

I should have stayed in L.A. and messed around at a record store or something but I came back down through two hours of Hell's own traffic. Spent $45 on gasoline and a carwash. Went to D's. I was miserably uncomfortable and upset, and didn't want to be around my friends at all. I couldn't decide whether I wanted to kill everyone or have everyone kill me. Social interaction lately is a cigarette. I need it; I light it up; and then it makes me sick and I can't stand myself for doing it again, and I remind myself it's bad for me and I should stop. Then I need it...

Tom Cruise Kills Oprah

I cannot stop watching it.

http://www.waxy.org/archive/2005/06/24/tom_crui.shtml

I met a man who wasn't there.

I have to recommend bruisedhips and godforesaken as houseguests. They depart immediately into their room and go to sleep every night at 10. In the morning they slip out of the house before they can be observed, and don't return again until it's time to sleep. It's hard to get them to eat your food, and sometimes it isn't clear whether they've actually been in your house. If you accuse them of these things and try to get them to behave like normal guests (eating your bagels, watching TV, clonking around being bored) they get a wild-eyed look and accuse members of your family of being shape-shifting cat demons.

In all seriousness it was great to have them visit, and I did get them to eat my rice and hummus at one point. Come back soon, y'hear?

for genericus

BACON WRAPPED CHICKEN RECIPES

Mostly for rpkrajewski

Minutemen - Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love, from Double Nickels on the Dime. "Mr. Robot's Holy Orders" is also missing from the CD. If you want to be a completist (who, me?) you need the vinyl, too.

Another lost 80s gem

No, not the one I'm listening to right now although that qualifies too.

Stan Ridgway and Stewart Copeland - Don't Box Me In (from the Rumblefish soundtrack), which seems to be out of print except in live versions.

A minor classic. Copeland without Sting being annoying, and Ridgway showing what he could do away from Wall of Voodoo.

Rakata bay bay, rakata bay BEE.

One of my favorite albums ever is Morgan Fisher's Miniatures. In 1980, he asked people for one minute long audio pieces, and compiled them.

The cast includes Pete Seeger, Andy Partridge, Ralph Steadman, Half Japanese, the Residents, and Neil Innes and his kid singing "Cum On Feel the Noyze". Steadman sings a John Donne poem outside in the rain while playing some kind of dilapidated pump organ. It's one of the few records I can without hyperbole call unique.

My favorite track is from jazzman and bon vivant George Melly, who performs a Kurt Schwitters dada poem. He claims that reciting this poem to some muggers once saved his life. It's not hard to hear why:

George Melly - Sounds That Saved My Life (mp3, 1.2M, 58 seconds).

It was a pain to get this. The CD version of the record has the tracks grouped five or six per CD track, and I had to use Amadeus II to perform some rough 'n' ready sound surgery and then reencode it. Good thing it's just Yelled Vocal Quality.

He needs someone to adjust his monkey.

Stuart Pearson ( changeng and http://www.stuartpearson.net ) played the opening of the new Diedrich on 17th. He brought Carlos (above), his new drummer, who is rock steady. He also did the Lady in the Radiator Song from Eraserhead and "Venus in Furs" by the Velvet Underground. I'm glad someone understands that "covers only" doesn't have to mean "the worst of the Eagles on a god-damned loop, forever".

The new location is okay except that the patio blows and the bar inside has no bar railing so it's like the tortures of the Inquisition sitting there. Was nice seeing Sandi; her gigantic Nightmare Before Christmas tattoo array is colored in now and it's fairly spectacular.

( Huge effin burrito and other delights below )

Goth Poem.

Redeemed flaming fireflies
----=-==-====-==-=----
Their saint flowing from a helpless mother reveres me.
A spasm is towering above a razor!
A dust towering above a forbidding grass drifts, hopefully.
Disintegrate, surrender yearning after the teacher behind the explosion!
At last it is gothtastic.
Through it all my victim clutching at a gothtastic victim protects, wildly.

Barbedwiregirl

(created with the Goth Poetry Generator from this Poetry Generator page.

For reference purposes

GOODBYE MY INTERNET FRIENDS FOREVER!!!

I told u i was hardcore

(Never do this.)