Hey something actually worthwhile to blog, a new music video:
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Check Out My E-Feelings
I counted nine deer in my backyard the other day. I think they’re planning something. A gathering in such numbers can only be suspicious.
New music projects have started crowding my briefly clean desktop. This is both good and daunting. I should probably start finishing some things.
In my day (today), we had to dig our cars out of the snow with our bare hands in order to leave our 18th century log cabins and use the internet. With that in mind, I’d like everyone to take a moment to appreciate the ease with which we view lolcatz.
New music projects have started crowding my briefly clean desktop. This is both good and daunting. I should probably start finishing some things.
Oh, and good news for everyone:
Following extensive political posturing and bureaucratic tomfoolery, I think I’ve finally added my senior project, under the conditions that I act more effusive, take advantage of the department’s vast resources, and imbue my art with an explicit social message. At this point I should quote the great Sir Thomas Waits, who famously stated, “I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy,” but I won’t. In cases such as this, it’s sometimes necessary to swallow one’s pride and take the frontal lobotomy.
In my day (today), we had to dig our cars out of the snow with our bare hands in order to leave our 18th century log cabins and use the internet. With that in mind, I’d like everyone to take a moment to appreciate the ease with which we view lolcatz.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
thrift store finds
The Kingston NY Salvation Army always smells like my grandpa's house. Interpret that how you will.
Instrumental tracks from the backing musicians for a lot of old Philly soul shit. It's aight. Kinda corny. I blame the saxophone. I did find a Jay-Z Black Album sample on it though so that's pretty cool I guess.
That's Dino Riders, Mystery Mr. Ra, and Zatoichi the Outlaw.
Dino Riders is about Dinosaurs with lazer guns strapped to their heads. If anyone has a problem with that I will fight them right now.
Mystery Mr. Ra is a Sun Ra documentary, which it turns out is in French. How a French Sun Ra documentary wound up in Kingston, NY is beyond me.
I haven't watched the Zatoichi movie yet, but as soon as I buy some drugs and make some friends I'm all about it.
Also picked up this MFSB record:
Instrumental tracks from the backing musicians for a lot of old Philly soul shit. It's aight. Kinda corny. I blame the saxophone. I did find a Jay-Z Black Album sample on it though so that's pretty cool I guess.
Finally, always with a keen eye for cutting edge style, Michaud-Me the Money picked up this ill Poopfest '09 shirt:
It says "PARTY" on the back.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Log Cabin to the Blog Cabin
In between pacing around my room, being a piece of shit, and “focusing too much on trying to make [my] music sound good” (quote from my school’s music department), I sometimes like to do some field recording. This past Monday I decided to record myself breaking ice in my backyard. This could be looked at as a metaphor, if you’re into that sort of thing.
So I grabbed my portable recorder and proceeded to make sloshy, crunchy noises in the forest (Vince/Knever/Thoreau/Johnny/Iron Ahab/Long John Latham/Fontaine will tell you all about how I love to maximize the crunch). Just imagine me, having a great time hanging out with myself, kickin’ it in nature and balling out to the fullest.
Unfortunately for everyone, my fun was brought to a swift conclusion when I discovered I was walking on a frozen river, and despite my usual jesus-like ability to walk on water, my leg sank into a foot and a half of mud. At this point I tried to break the fuck out, but with each step sank further and further into the doodie-brown abyss (NO HOMO).
Needless to say, I wrecked my shoes, and need a new pair. Preferably something sturdy enough that I can do my usual traversing of rough terrain, but light and airy enough that I can frollick in the cornfields uninhibited.
I posted a recording of me cursing and running through the mud below. Call it an audio-photo, if you will (you will).
OK, so it wasn’t much of a story, but whatever, go fuck yourself.
Stayed tuned for more updates from Cold-and-Boringville whenever I decide I give a shit.
So I grabbed my portable recorder and proceeded to make sloshy, crunchy noises in the forest (Vince/Knever/Thoreau/Johnny/Iron Ahab/Long John Latham/Fontaine will tell you all about how I love to maximize the crunch). Just imagine me, having a great time hanging out with myself, kickin’ it in nature and balling out to the fullest.
Unfortunately for everyone, my fun was brought to a swift conclusion when I discovered I was walking on a frozen river, and despite my usual jesus-like ability to walk on water, my leg sank into a foot and a half of mud. At this point I tried to break the fuck out, but with each step sank further and further into the doodie-brown abyss (NO HOMO).
Needless to say, I wrecked my shoes, and need a new pair. Preferably something sturdy enough that I can do my usual traversing of rough terrain, but light and airy enough that I can frollick in the cornfields uninhibited.
I posted a recording of me cursing and running through the mud below. Call it an audio-photo, if you will (you will).
OK, so it wasn’t much of a story, but whatever, go fuck yourself.
Stayed tuned for more updates from Cold-and-Boringville whenever I decide I give a shit.
LOST
I'm in the middle of watching the 2nd episode of this final season. What started as a gripping narrative has turned into a disgustingly underthought show. It is a pied play of lines people would never say, actions they would never take, and results that would never happen. The ignorance of the characters astounds. The island has turned into a time-traveling, alternate-reality, egyptian god-infested playground for piss poor writing. The staff should be ashamed. It is pitiful. Just like the Matrix movies, this proves that any unworthy mystery turns to shit when revealed. The writers admitted they didn't know where the show was headed after the 1st season, and now it looks like it. For anyone who hasn't seen the show yet, watch the first season and ignore the rest. The fact that I'm still watching it only serves to fuel my self-loathing so necessary for rhyme writing. fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck this show.
I'm normally not this upset.
I give it a 6.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Saturday, February 6, 2010
From Paris With Love Review
Last night Bustin, Micah, Lojack, and I hit up Travolta's new smash-hit "From Paris With Love". The four of us composed a beautiful rainbow of diversity. Bustin earned friends by asking the ticket booth whether or not he could see the movie in 3d. 'Travolta in 3d' a nearby man said, 'that would be magic.'
Turns out no magic needed. The movie is a thriller from twenty minutes in to twenty eight minutes in. Travolta's first baller scene consists of him arguing with French customs agents about bringing energy drinks into the country. He spews a cock-slap of obscenities and politically insensitive diatribes, and walks out.
Travolta's character name is Charlie Wax. Besides being a fucking amazing name, it also allows him to tell a foe at gunpoint, "Tell your boss, 'Wax on, Wax off'". He beats and shoots the shit out of people, forces his partner to carry around a vase full of cocaine for no apparent reason - and even makes him snort coke for no reason - and shoots women in the head.
If the movie were 100% Johnnie Travolta, I'd give it a 6. Unfortunately it has some pretty boy british dude pretending to be a new yorker who wastes the audience's time from beginning to end. With Travolta on-screen: priceless. Without him: garbage.
All in all, if you're looking for a movie to laugh at, not with, this is definitely the one.
I give it a: 6
Friday, February 5, 2010
Police at 4:45AM
I woke up to my doorbell-phone ringing. I couldn't stumble around in bed quick enough to answer it. I heard pounding at the door. I rose confused, and saw it was still only 445 in the morning. I went to look at the front door and a pair of flashlights shone through a nearby window. The bell/phone rang again. The conversation went essentially like this:
"um, hello"
"open the door. this is the los angeles police department."
"um, excuse me?"
"open the door."
"what are you doing here."
"we're responding to a call made from this address."
"I didn't make any call."
"from an alarm company."
"the alarm didn't go off. It wasn't even on."
"I've identified myself as a member of the police department, now open the door."
Using my better judgement, I decided not to open the door. The knocking and flashlights continued and so I called 911. They told me that it was the cops. I went outside, turns out it was the cops. They were responding to a call that no one ever made. It was super creepy. I then laid awake in bed until it was light out, half-nervous that someone had snuck in through the window and was waiting to stick me in my sleep.
Stories. I has them.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
First Day Of Class
I just grabbed lunch with Bustin after his first day of teaching Rap 101. Apparently the class is mostly women. They heard about his baby carrot freshness. Baby carrots, Bustin says, aren't always fresh but we aren't focusing on that. We just set up that stuuuuuuudio and we're about to record that new manimal jam.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Lookalike
Monday, February 1, 2010
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