tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57454456850776710732023-11-15T10:53:27.707-08:00Thank You for the BananaUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5745445685077671073.post-61841780983338607502012-12-05T12:49:00.001-08:002012-12-05T12:49:27.067-08:00Splat!Wow. Last post? 2009. I forgot I even had this thing. But here's the thing: I kind of want to be a writer. It's a secret desire that I've harbored for some time and have always pushed to the back of my head and hidden around a corner with what's left of my ambition to become both an astronaut and a firefighter. How does one become a writer? Well . . .
. . .
. . .
You write. There's always been a mystique around writing, the same as being in a band or songwriting. It seems so difficult, so impossible, accessible only by a thin sliver of the population who are genetically gifted and have been doing it since they tumbled from their mothers' womb. But, just like those other two things: you just do it, and splat! there you are. I, therefore, am now A WRITER. Splat!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5745445685077671073.post-59465986957291584862009-05-31T20:43:00.000-07:002009-05-31T20:46:50.542-07:00Perfect example of not looking before I leap . . .The first five (5) people to respond to this post will get something made by me. You can tell me something you might like if you want to, and I'll try my best to do it but I can't promise anything, sorry!<br /><br />This offer does have some restrictions and limitations:<br /><br />- I make no guarantees that you will like what I make.<br />- What I create will be just for you. (you get to decide what happens to it and where/if it'll be posted, if applicable)<br />- It'll be done by the end of this year (2009).<br />- You have no clue what it's going to be. It may be a mix CD or an icon. I may make something. I might bake you something and mail it to you. Who knows? Not you, that's for sure! [not me either]<br />- I reserve the right to do something completely weird :)<br /><br />The catch is that you have to put this in your journal as well, if you expect me to do something for you! (cuz it's more fun that way)<br /><br />(I responded to my friend Kat's posting of this before I knew what it entailed . . . Oh well. She makes awesome stuff.)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5745445685077671073.post-49955382870844978962009-05-29T20:17:00.000-07:002009-05-29T20:47:44.929-07:00Let's do the Time Warp AgainLiz and I turned on her old laptop today: the one she used for four years in college. Its homepage was set to oberlin.edu.<br /><br />It was as if some part of Liz, some part of both of us had been made static - frozen in time - waiting for years to start again. When we started up the computer again, it reached out for the things that we had taught it to reach for years ago, tried to re-establish connections that didn't exist anymore. Both the people who set the homepage and the website itself have moved on. None of the connections and applications on this machine are relevant.<br /><br />I think, then, how sad it would be to travel in time. Even if we travel to a foreign country, we still have some few things in common with the people there: a knowledge that, despite any differences, we are still citizens of the same world. We exist in the same vast space, and are capable of reaching each other with an appropirate amount of time and effort. <br /><br />Imagine, though, that you have suddenly been dropped into the ancient roman Empire. Not only are you seperated from their language (who alive could understand spoken Imperial Latin?) but their entire culture would be alien to you. Even if you had made a study of the Roman Empire, for every custom or turn of phrase you've learned, there are a thousand lost forever in the whispers of time. You have almost nothing in common with these people: their lives are short, they know hardships we cannot fathom, and they worship strange and violent gods. Where is your common ground? How could you ever connect?<br /><br />This computer is old. I love it. I remember the desktop screen. I remember the icons, the programs, the itunes music. I'm going to enjoy using it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5745445685077671073.post-22394853661207024812009-05-28T19:29:00.000-07:002009-05-28T20:04:53.821-07:00Curse you, Facebook!So, I finally decided to get back on Facebook. I'm constantly being told by multiple parties that Facebook is a fantastic cornucopia of constant up-to-date facts that continuously pours information into the ether like some sort of friend-specific fountain of knowledge. A font, even. <div>But. There's a problem. The first time I get back on facebook after, like, a year, I decided to delete the original e-mail address associated with the account. Weeeell that was the information font equivalent of shooting myself in the digital foot. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Dear God," you might say, breath bated with excitement, "Tomfoolery and Shennanigans!" Well, you probably wouldn't say that. I might. Point is: I can't sign on now. I've apparently deleted all of the e-mails associated with the account according to facebook technical support. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sigh. I wish I existed. </div><div><br /></div><div>What does this portend for me? Am I to be cut off forever from this river-flow of constant information? Is the knowledge of what other people are doing to be damned before it flows into my brain-resevoir by Facebook beavers?! </div><div><br /></div><div>Yeah. I guess so . . . for now.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5745445685077671073.post-77503822316163791642008-02-05T19:46:00.000-08:002008-02-05T20:17:15.021-08:00The Five Albums I simply can't stop listening to(No matter how hard I try)<br /><br />1. Weezer: The Blue Album<br /><br />Perfect. Everything about this album is awesome. Half the tracks are radio singles, the other half are still pretty awesome. Original songwriting, unique old-meets-new sound, highly personal and insightful songwriting married to some excellent musicianship makes for deliciousness.<br /><br />2. Against Me!: Reinventing Axel Rose<br /><br />The vigor of idealism coupled with the bitterness of homelessness! Add a radical agenda and POOF: AWESOME ALBUM.<br /><br />3. The Anniversary: Designing a Nervous Breakdown<br /><br />Despite deciding to suck on their next album, this one delivers emo bliss. The Anniversary couples a classic emo outfit with a moog synthesizer. I loooooove their sound. <br /><br />4. Motion City Soundtrack: Commit this to Memory<br /><br />Remember what I was saying about moogs? THESE GUYS HAVE ONE TOOOOO. And it's produced by Blink 182's Mark Hoppus. Their Pop sensibility serves them well. While they fall apart a little later on the album, I find myself coming back again and again.<br /><br /><br />5. The Darkness: Permission to Land<br /><br />Just . . . what the fuck? I can't take these guys seriously. Every time I pop in the CD, I see the lead singer in a white spandex singlet. And yet . . . Their ability to turn hair metal on its head and their blazing guitar solos bring me back again and again. It's just fun to listen to. I can't stop myself. Kill me, master! Kill me!!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5745445685077671073.post-35301316738304443512008-01-18T07:43:00.000-08:002008-01-18T08:33:12.331-08:00You Can't Catch Me . . .I have found the worst Wii game that ever was made. And it is called <span style="font-style: italic;">The Ninjabread Man.</span> <br /><br />So, when you think of a game, a few niceties pop into your head: little things called "plot" or "characters" or even "usable controls." Ninjabread Man eschews all of these things for nonsensical, impossible, pointless platforming and the opportunity to be eaten by<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>food. <br /><br />Well, I guess it's not true that there's no plot. I found the plot in the instruction booklet. By accident. While trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Apparently, "Sweetworld" has been ruined by the evil "Toothrotters" which are evil cupcakes, pieces of cake, and . . . bees. I don't get it either. And you have to . . . fight them? I guess? <br /><br />That doesn't make any sense, though. Gingerbread is as much a sweet as cake or bees! Why would they be fighting? You know what? I'm just not going to think about it anymore. Let the twisted developers have their bee cake. It hurts my head trying to invent plot where there is none.<br /><br />Anyway, so the point of every level is to get to the teleporter at the end of the level to get to the next level. You have to curse your way through frustrating jump puzzles until you collect enough items to move along. Maybe even that wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the atrocious controls.<br /><br />First off: props to <span style="font-style: italic;">Ninjabread Man</span> for trying to make a game entirely with the Wii motion controls. I understand what they were going for. The problem lies in their failure to realize accurate movement detection. For example: To jump, you must move the nunchuck up. This works about 60 percent of the time. The hit-or-miss nature of the controls becomes a major frustration early on. It makes simple tasks like performing a simple jump puzzle or attacking an enemy incredibly difficult. <br /><br />The idea had potential. A gingerbread man who is also a ninja is <span style="font-style: italic;">funny.</span> But this game . . . this game is not funny.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5745445685077671073.post-6364730014976062212007-12-12T07:28:00.000-08:002007-12-12T08:08:13.929-08:00Jingle all the way . . . TO HELL!!!Damn! I totally forgot what I was going to write again. Agh!<br /><br />Fine, brain. Have it your way. I'm just gonna sit here and type until you get your lazy ass in gear and remember what it is we were going to talk about.<br /><br />Like that's going to happen.<br /><br />Oh! Wait!<br /><br />So, Jinglebells. I have to say that the genre of Christmas music is one of the ones that I revile the most. Some songs are catchy. Some have more genuine depth, but most are simply bubbly tunes from decades ago that get done and redone, arranged, cut, mangled and parodied for commercials. All in all, if I have to hear another rendition of "Silver Bells" ("Hark how the bells . . ." not " . . . It's Christmastime in the city") twisted to sell one more gadget or donut or whatever, I will throw up and die. Although I do kind of like the GPS tracker commercial that has the moose.<br /><br />"There's that moose again!" bwahahaha!!<br /><br />But getting back to the point: No one knows more than one verse of "Jingle Bells." We hear this song everywhere: supermarkets, in the car, in the mall, even most restaurants . . . Why has no one ever bothered with the later verses? It's true they're archaic and almost unnecessary (putting forth more or less the same sentiment and being somewhat more general), but it shocks me how something can be so important to us and simultaneously so very trivial. We all have memories of singing this song with friends and family, but who even knew there were multiple verses?<br /><br />But who cares! It's just a stupid Christmas song! It's a shame no one's gone to the wikipedia <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jingle_bells">article</a> and pasted the missing verses on this blog . . .<br /><br /><dl><dd>A day or two ago</dd><dd>I thought I'd take a ride</dd><dd>And soon Miss Fanny Bright</dd><dd>Was seated by my side,</dd><dd>The horse was lean and lank</dd><dd>Misfortune seemed his lot</dd><dd>He got into a drifted bank</dd><dd>And then we got upsot!</dd></dl><dl><dd>Now the ground is white</dd><dd>Go it while you're young,</dd><dd>Take the girls tonight</dd><dd>and sing this sleighing song;</dd><dd>Just get a bob tailed bay</dd><dd>Two forty as his speed</dd><dd>Hitch him to an open sleigh</dd><dd>And crack! you'll take the lead.</dd></dl>Apparently, "upsot" can also mean hammered. Upsot is a great word.<br /><br />Anyway, the next time you're forced through another round of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town," Think of a drunken Miss Fanny Bright lying in a snowdrift with an unlucky horse and a lusty young man.<br /><br />My Christmas gift to you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5745445685077671073.post-67171907712946353502007-12-10T19:52:00.000-08:002007-12-10T20:19:52.175-08:00I SWEAR TO GOD LADY, WE DON'T HAVE ANY WIISSo. You may be looking for a wii this christmas. Well, forget it. Just give up and die. Give up, die, dig your own grave, shovel dirt over yourself, pat it all nice and forget about it.<br /><br />1. There aren't very many. I don't know why. Nintendo decided that they wanted to see people fight to the death across America. Possibly with spears. <br /><br />2. SO MANY PEOPLE are looking for them. I get asked 100 times a day. 100 times! I counted. I have the same conversation every time:<br /><br />"Do you have any wiis?" (No.) "Do you know when you'll be getting any aforementioned wiis?" (oh, don't you wish) "Don't you have a list I can get on?"(Absolutely not, but if I did, there would be 2316 people ahead of you - do you mind waiting?) "Can't you hold a wii for me when you get one and call me up on my private cell phone to tell me so you can hold one for hours while rabid soccer moms chew on your flesh and rend your uniform while you hold the wii aloft, mere inches from their clutching grasp?" (letmethinkaboutitNO.)<br /><br />I sympathize. I really do. In the end, we're all just people - you who desperately want a wii for your child, your grandma, your dying hamster - I don't know - And I who must endure a battery of repetitive and indignant questioning while still trying to remain civil and compassionate. I wish I could sell them, I really do, but we just. don't. have any.<br /><br />And so, gentle and ungentle customers, we are at an impasse. I sit behind the fortress of my less desireable items - my PS3 portcullis with 360 crenellations - armed only with courtesy. And yet . . . You approach me and my ilk full of righteous consumerism, cash in hand, a simple requst falling from your lips. Wiis. That's all you really want, and all I really don't have.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5745445685077671073.post-18795871969522701152007-12-07T22:12:00.000-08:002007-12-07T22:25:19.097-08:00Thank you for the BananaI was all set up to write in my new blog. I was really happy that I'd have the chance to rant and rave and hem and haw about <em>anything</em> I desired, but wouldn't you know it, I can't think of a thing.<br /><br />OOOH OOH NO WAIT!!<br /><br />Okay - here goes:<br /><br />Once, when I was in college, I was sitting at a table, eating a banana. A thought appeared in my head. It wasn't a thought so much as an image, really. A line of people in banana suits performed the can-can on the stage of my mind. As they kicked and turned, they sang a song.<br /><br />"Thank you for the Banana," They said.<br /><br />This sort of thing happens often. Unbidden thoughts and images come to my mind. Sometimes funny, sometimes . . .<br /><br />Here, I will share them with you. Maybe you'll find them funny, maybe not. But if you do, I hope you occaisionally envision a dancing line of well-dressed people that sing (in perfect and melodious harmony) "Thank you for reading this blog."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1