Strike Story Part I

Here we are. December 20th 2005. Five days before Christmas. New York City. The people movers, the life blood, the heart of this city --it's transportation--halted. 7 millions souls, lost and ambling on their best days, left to think GASP! for themselves.
Tomorrow, less than 12 hours from now, I plan to venture into the melange and try to osmosis myself to a plot of land in midtown Manhattan. With me, my trusty kicks, camera, and bad ass mittens. The following is my plan. Procure transportation of the motorized nature to downtown Brooklyn, as close to the bridge as possible. Next, advance over the bridge via bipedal locomotion. Lastly, arrive in downtown Manhattan and either via trusty kicks or cab arrive at work safely and unharmed.
Thank you Mr. Toussaint.
Bravo Mr. Kalikow.
Good morning New York.

Great Ginger Ale Dragon Wall Happy Scam

Ok so here's the deal with Great Wall Chinese Food on Fort Hamilton Parkway and 69th street. If you call up and get one of their specials, and you don't tell them what kind of soda you want, they give you ginger ale. What's up with that? Anywhere else would give a coke or pepsi. You know what that's you penalty for not telling them exactly what soda you want. You get ginger ale the one soda that probably sells the least at a chinese food place.

You Don't Know What You Got...

It's Wednesday, and it's 24 degrees outside. 24 degrees between the people we are and the people we want to be. Let's cut right to it, there's some things I need to discuss here.



On the eve of the shooting death of Sir Winston O' Boogie, It compels me to blog about a death that still resonates in the heart of the world as we know it 25 years later. Talk about impact. I think Time magazine sums it up with the cover. I could go on and on about what Lennon means to me, but that would be selfish. Lennon meant something to every one. Some good and some bad. I think the saddest thing may be that he was poised for what some called a "comeback." It's a shame sometimes that John Lennon's music to some took a back seat to his politics. Either way it's a tragic passing of an iconic being. Remember for all your rock and roll suicides, and burn outs John Lennon's life was cut short. Never forget he was murdered.

Some Quotes for good measure:
The reason why kids are crazy is because nobody can face the responsibility of bringing them up.

Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted

Possession isn't nine tenths of the law. It's nine tenths of the problem.

If being an egomaniac means I believe in what I do and in my art or my music. then in that respect you can call me that. . . I believe in what I do, and I'll say it.

Everything is clearer when you're in love.

Moving right along, (yeah kids we're touching all bases tonight) picked up the new Prince of Persia game. Hotness. Is that a word? Cause it is now. I'll be damned though if it isn't a lot harder than the previous games. And, Jigga says it's longer too. Always a winning combination when a sequel is more difficult and takes more hours to beat.

Ok and the holiday season is upon us and it's seems Brian Wilson is making the tv show circuit. Let me tell you about this guy -- He is a genius. Nervous breakdown and all (you got to have creds to be a genius you know). Here's a guy who wouldn't even leave the house, and then he releases Smile! the album to top pet sounds and now he has a christmas album that judging by the performances sounds pretty damn tight. Anyway, for a brief overlook on him, IMDB has a cool biography, although it's not so current.

Toying. That's what I've been doing with this site. I'm thinking of changing this blog for the new year. See folks, I found I like to read. I also found this blog sometimes lacks direction. So I've posed this challenge, why not read a shitload of books in the new year and blog about them here? Sounds like a case of academia or literati creeping in but who gives a shit? Leave me some feedback and tell me what you think. I'm even debating making a challenge and seeing if I could read 40 books next year.
I thought it was funny when Otto sent out his wedding invitations on rolling paper. Marge was all like "ohh and look at this fancy paper." Speaking of which top ten names for pot in 2005 :

Weed
Trees
Squeef
Gunpowder
Good Will Blunting
Al Green
Herb
Kind Buds
The New Coke
Aunt Mary

Yes some straight from Jiggas mouth to your ears.

Oh Right, I've update my pics in my gallery, check it out and don't forget to leave feedback.
Ok Ok I know it's not officially winter yet, but all this cold weather, I can't help but quote me some Robert Frost. I leave these parting words. Think about them. Cherish them and pass them along as a gift to others. Or not, leave them where they stand for some other to enjoy.

DUST OF SNOW
The way a crow

Shook down on me

The dust of snow

From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart

A change of mood

And saved some part

Of a day I had rued.

Robert Frost.

Short Week / Short Bus

So this be a short week, and that's a good thing. Watched some football yesterday and got high. That was a good thing. Went out Saturday night with some people I hadn't seen in a while. That was a good thing. Saw Serge Friday night, he stayed out late, that was a good thing. I guess it was a good weekend. Been geeking out lately and burnin a lot of cd's. Been geeking out and reading much too, guess that's why I've been away from this thing. Holiday seasons are upon us it seems and it's not even turkey day yet. I could go on and on about this, but I won't, it's an over statment at this point. I will say that I think it's hot how Band of Brothers dvd's have been out for a few years now and still every year around the holidays you see commercials for them. You know that means they move units around this time of year. Werd.

Work Without Hope

All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair--
The bees are stirring--birds are on the wing--
And Winter, slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing,
Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.

Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,
Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.
Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,
For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!
With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll:
And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?
Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And hope without an object cannot live.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

...On Deja Vu

Ok so I've asked this one before I think to my friends. Deja vu, how many times a year would you say you get it? I mean I don't want to make it like I have some sort of supernatural ability, but It's weird I get deja vu pretty often. I get deja vu pretty often. I don't know if it's because there are certain activites that are so repetitive in my life that it's only a matter of time before I start the cycle all over again and repeat an activity. Repeat an activity. Ok so I'll be on the train and I'll be listening to an album, and say to myself "wow I saw myself in my minds eye listening to this song while going over the manhattan bridge." Pretty normal stuff right, because lets face it songs are bound to repeat on my walkman and I do go over the bridge everyday twice a day. But what's strange is sometimes I'll be thinking about something, sometimes things so weird that I've definately never thought before while listening to that song while going over the manhattan bridge that's it's eerie, because this is the first time it's happening yet I knew it's so familiar like it's happened before. So I get deja vu so often that I'm thinking maybe there's something to it. Is there a way to test this? Someone come up with a way and let me know.

Monty Strikes Back.

Remember this guy? So I was wondering what Monterey Jack was up to these days. I tried to contact him through his now defunct booking agency. After a month long search and countless hours I tracked him down to a small town in Arizona about 30 miles north of Phoenix. After making several attempts at his residence to speak with him I finally engaged him at a local bar, "The Drum and Barrel." He refused to come on camera, but did however, allow me to conduct a brief interview with him. When questions moved from the short lived series "Rescue Rangers" to more serious matters such as his alleged affair with Gadget Hackwrench he became irate and visibly upset. When asked about his first wife Brie, and his estranged daughter Mozzarella he calmly pulled me to side, produced a switch blade, and asked me to "Kindly get the fuck out his life."

...On Weird Moments

Just one nugget for today. At work I was chatting with my boss. I made a comment to the tune of "you know, I do exist outside of this place" and right there I knew it was official, I had become the weird guy in the office. I mean come on who blurts out something like that? So anyway in an attempt to make that comment look less weird I wound up babbling on and realized that in trying to look less weird I looked weirder than anyone could have possibly imagined. Are you following all of this.
Also heard some people today talking about "hoggin" or "piggin" apparently that's what you call it when you hook up with nasty/fat girls. This is big in colleges where it's actually encouraged by say a frat one week out of the year. The best part is all these guys hook up with beasts and because it's sanctioned no one can give you shit for it. They even throw these parties where they just invite these hideous women. Of course this is also used on a nightly basis where Todd may say to Brad, "Hey let's go hoggin tonight."
Humorous as 'Hoggin' may be, that gooey intangible mass inside of me that is responsible for intelligence and self dignity and maybe even a little bit of sympathy for those less fortunate thanks me everyday for not missing much by doing that shit in college. Oh how I value the little things about myself.

Degrees of Gray

That's how it is life on the gray scale. Everything is measured in degrees, tones, half tones. It's like you wait your whole life for colour and then when it does come you're so taken back by its effulgence you miss it. Like a fast passing weekend. Something ephemeral in an otherwise calm existence. There's reflection, but then there is a return. To be a war correspondent on one's own life is a scary thought, then again I guess so is all self reflection, maybe I should stop thinking so much. Some days you wake up and everything is gray and you hate everyone, then other days....Well, I wouldn't say you love everyone, but rather you don't care enough to notice. Don't fret, I'm not returning to my old self, this whole melancholy prose is how I deal with a shitty fuck day on the train.

Postin'

Here's a little pre lunch update. It's raining. Again. It's been raining since Friday. It feels like a month ago that I swam to The Met, but it was really only Saturday. It feels like a fortnight ago that I smoked a blizzy in the pouring rain as it disintegrate in Jibbas hand, but it was only a few days ago. Although it's been raining I think today may be a good day. Do you know why? Because I got a seat on the train. It's sad when we measure success by little things like that. Don't forget to click on my new link on the side for my picture gallery at photopic.net, leave some feedback tell me what you think. Anyway, let me go take the hammer from my desk draw and try to beat myself conscious...

Working on Leaving The Living

As my title suggests although I"m here at work I'm slowly transforming, or rather, embarking on a journey that will take me away from all this crap. They can tell me what to do around here, but they can't tell me what to think. And I'm thinking right now that Monday's suck. Who's not here, who's leaving early, who's got two kids running around, who's on the internet in the empty office when they're not supposed to be. It's a circus, and no I'm not the ringleader, I'm the dwarf behind the curtain going "gabba gabba hey, something's not right here."
So this past weekend went to the Met. Checked out the exhibit on Occult Photography. It wasn't that good. Some of the pictures were spooky, but it was mainly parlor tricks. Double exposures, trick photography, purposeful under and over exposures to make things like cloth seem like mysterious ectoplasm emanating from some woman's gash.
However, I then walked over to an exhibit on Prague. Excellent, awesome, why are you reading this go check it out. Over 200 pieces, a lot of which have never been exhibited before. Lots of Bibles, paintings, carvings. Apparently in Bohemia they were into religious icons and the such, one such highlight was the piece of the table cloth from the last supper given to Charles IV by Pope Urban.
Well that was pretty much, just glade we're getting a break from the rain, but then again it's supposed to rain all this week.

Remember....
"A good friend will come and bail you out of jail...but a TRUE friend will be sitting next to you saying, 'Damn...that was fun.' "

It is Tuesday, It is Night / Worst Purchase Ever.

Ok It's Tuesday. Here's some shit. Tomorrow night going to see the Decemberists, I may have an extra ticket, if anyone wants to meet up get in touch with me. At work it was pretty dead, lots of Jewish (Princess Vespa...) people in the T.V. business I guess. However got to hear the gutter girls (that's my new name for the foul mouthed princesses I work with) to have a whole discussion about schlongs. As they repeatedly called my boss "Pickle Pants" they went into a rather vulgar discourse about "Girk" a variation on girth. Of course this led to which type of package is preferable to woman, and finally like all discussions that change the course of history, they wound up talking about how midgets with 12 inch cocks walk around.
Another thing I've been feeling vehemently about lately are they bogus hip hop t-shirts. You the ones I'm talking about the ones you see people wearing on the trains. The black shirts with the black and white photos of Biggie Smalls in heaven wearing a crown or carrying a scepter or face to face with Tupac. Oh then there's the even worse ones that are airbrushed those are ridiculous, I mean there's ghetto, then there is ghetto squared. I would be embarrassed to even take that up to a counter to pay for it (more on this later). How about the bum ass shirts that you can tell are made up at the mall. You know the t shirt with the square box in the middle, only instead of saying "worlds greatest grandpa" people are inserting pictures of Tupac. Nah I'm sorry I'm not feeling it. Say what you will about me, but it's just stupid. This is right up there with that now almost extinct fad of wearing those racing jackets with sponsors all over them. Yeah cool man, Cheerios and Valvoline all over your torso. You're a fucking walking ad. Oh what's that you say? Can't pick a favorite NBA team? Why not where a pair of jeans with every fucking team logo in the league on it?
Whew ok, that should just about do it. But going back to the money catching fire in your hand at the store counter as you pull it out of your pocket to pay for that Biggie Vs. Naz T shirt, I've been polling people at work and around town what your worst purchase is -- Ever. So leave a comment for the world to see, let us know what your stupidest purchase ever is.

Fly Catchin'

Here's one. You are on the subway, and across from you is the most beautiful woman you've ever seen. She's got her Louis Vuitton bag, her Gucci sunglasses, shopping bags from Bloomingdale. Nice right. Only thing is she's passed out with her mouth wide open catching flies. Thanks for ruining my fantasy of perfection. It's earth shattering to everything you know. Kind of like the first time you hear a girl fart. Or maybe it just proves the cynics point, that despite all the trappings that come with civilized society, and superficial artifacts like designer names, we're all just slobs with our mouths wide open.

Ultimate Warrior / Roid Rage

The Ultimate Warrior has responded to WWE’s recent invitation for the former WWE Champion to appear on ByteThis! If you think his previous commentaries were controversial, you will not believe his recent comments. He lashes out against Vince, calls Droz a “cripple”, accuses Triple H of abusing muscle-enhancing substances, says Bobby Heenan deserves the battle with cancer he is currently going through, implies Jim Ross has had a romantic relationship wtih Vince McMahon and more.
Warrior’s commentary was, as always, long and rambling. Below are the “highlights”. WARNING: It gets pretty crude.
In response to the ByteThis! Invitation:
As for my own response to the invitation — I’d say the boil that I am on your ass, Vince McMahon, is causing you even more pain right now than you expected, considering that you believed the DVD would lance it once and for all. Once again, Vince, in a furious, visionless moment, you loaded, locked and fired all at once instead of considering what would be the consequences of shooting off so recklessly. I tried to tell you, Ultimate Warrior is bigger than our dislike for one another. You should have just let Him be what He was. Oh, He still will be — His fans won’t have it any other way. You are, of course, finding this out for yourself right now. But you, look what you’ve done to yourself. Similar to an exhibitionist sick to show the world their tiny, shriveled private parts, you’ve done nothing but unclothe the canker sores of your wicked personality.
Of course, I do NOT accept this brainless, disgraceful invitation. F*CK NO, I do not. You can rescue yourself, Vince. Do your own damage control. I’ve no ear for your begging anymore. Only if you were on fire would I help you — it’d just be too hard to resist pissing on you. Open mic? Then let it truly be open. Let your audience have some fresh air. Flush the toilet bowl once. Let them hear something intelligent, decent and truthful for once. Give them, Vince, what they want — just like you are always bragging the WWE does. Let them be proud for just a few moments that the energetic, intense and colorful Ultimate Warrior persona they loved when they were little kids didn’t become a self-pitying, disappointing, broken-down has-been like all the other brittle-minded skeletons traipsing around your locker rooms or now buried in forgotten about graves. Order the queer and the cripple who host the show to read what I have written here and here, and while they do that have them hold up mirrors looking at themselves so they can know exactly the kind of people in your organization I’m writing about. No apologies — I don’t discriminate for the handicapped who sign on to behave degenerately.
About Triple H:
Hell, Paul, own up little, puffy man. You tried to replicate everything about me. So what you used a few more wrestling moves. Nobody cares and even fewer will remember. It was the Ultimate Warrior intensity and look you strove for ….. It’s a good thing Vince backed off the drug testing as he did because without them you wouldn’t have made muscle grade enough for the real freaks to even let you be one of their friends. BTW, to get rid of the puffy look, get off the GH and train hard. Yeah, that’s right — train hard. Your body tells us all that you train like a tw*t and rely most on your “sports supplements.”
About Bobby Heenan:
As for you, Booby Heenan, it’s just too difficult to keep a straight face talking about the pure two-faced bag of shit you are (and have always been), what, with you also actually wearing one as a piece of body jewelry. You are dying, dis-eased on the inside, and no more time is left to get back any of the integrity that matters the most on death’s bed. Imagine what it will be like, lying there taking in your last breaths, knowing you whored yourself out your whole life, and had to, in your final years, be faced with emptying your own personal shit bag affirming to you the true value of what you achieved in your life. Not even Vince could come up with a better finish than this. Karma is just a beautiful thing to behold.
About Jim Ross:
Jimmie Ross. For the life of me, I don’t get what your beef (should I say pork?), Jimmie, is with the sane and happy ole’ Warriorman. Of course, I can only imagine that a whole hell of a lot of anal pressure must come with being one of Vince’s top *ss-wipes. Yet, still, can I ask — just when did you get to know me well enough to go on and on about me as you seem so fit to do? Can we substantiate some time period, here? Discussions or meetings that were held? Or is this too much to ask? I’m not the only one who’d like to know. Everyone is asking the same question: “Just when did Jim Ross get to know Warrior so well to have these endless opinions about him that he does?” All anyone can think of, largely because it is so apparent across the board throughout the entire DVD, is that, again, envy alone provides you (and everyone else for that matter) with the enlightenment and answers. You are obviously jealous of both the fact that I never let Vince have his way with me as he has with you and everyone else and, also, that you never had the chance to bend me over either since becoming the Mother Hen over the talent around about ‘96 when I was last there.

**This text taken from Mike Shalik @ 3:37 pm EDT**

The next post

Ok so it isn't a continuation, it's just an FYI (that's a corporate term) to let everyone know that I still have a pulse. I come back last week with that long winded post like I'm going to come back like gang busters and blow this whole blog thing wide open but then again, I'm only human. So I follow up this, a post about nothing. Ok well maybe something. But not much. Sooo I hate these people that use luggage wheelies to wheel around a briefcase. No not a briefcase the size of a suitcase, but a regular size briefcase. I've seen people wheeling around 4 manilla envelopes. No not envelopes stuffed like a Thanksgiving Turkey. But, rather envelops that size more with the empty army. I said this to my fellow co workers and they said "Maybe they have bad shoulers." To which I replied, "Ok maybe one in ten." The other nine are bullshit.

Super Blog

CHAPTER I

It's been a while. And for what it's worth I apologize. I'm back. A little older, a little wiser, womanless and more cynical. "The Man" has gotten to me. The closest thing in my adult life right now the womb -- my bed--is no longer sacred and holy. My one time fortress of solitude has been sullied with the stink of a full time job. Sunrise. The beauty which once visited my life like a blow from a double edge sword well worth the wait; the white whale I'd pay penance for by holding court and staying up all night - no longer holds wonder for me. It may in time hold my demise. Each day I am ripped from my happy place. Not by a madman, or by Gestapo. Nor by catastrophe or the disbanding of the galaxy as we know it, but rather, by the beeping of a $12.99 alarm clock radio made by a foreign company half a world away that specializes in making cheap plastic shit.

So I go through the motions of getting ready for work (as if us free range chickens could ever be ready for work). And believe me, even after just 12 days the motions are real and are here to stay. Overpriced shirt. Check. Gabardine slacks. Check. Stain proof tie (that isn't really stain proof). Check. Off to the surface of the Sun I go.

It's hot. Afrika hot. The walk to the subway, the platform, the one train car that I get in with no air conditioning. It's all fucking hot. But hey, I'm grown up, I got a job, God Damn it, I'm a man, so I get out of that train car! I wait for the next train to come, the one where every car is from the 20th century. The train that's cool. Because you know what, even in my monkey suit, I want to be cool. And as it turns out, packed in that cattle car next to the guy with his tie tucked into his belt, and the fat girl oblivious to the fact that her tacky pink thong is showing and is stretched dangerously thin (capable of killing at least three pedestrians in that car alone), and the two Siamese Twins Chang and Eng, I am fucking cool. So I get to work. Exactly one half hour early. I receive praise from the sparse intrepid coworkers that are already there. They think I'm an industrious good worker. They are dead wrong. I show up to enjoy the free water and air conditioning. The essential elements for life that I can not get at home.

Coworkers, Lemmings, Kitchen appliances - whatever you call them - start to file in. For the next seven hours I live The Breakfast Club. We laugh, we cry, we do some work. But eventually the movie gets old. I'm in a world where I'm filtered, spam blocked, fun blocked and cock blocked. In an office filled with women I can't get a word in edge wise. Maybe it's better off that way. Either way my mind wanders off....

I'm 21 again and high. Not just intoxicated at that moment, put perpetually high. That ceaseless high that comes with youth, is fleeting, and is oft-missed as you grow older. That high that you think you are replicating at 25 and 30 but you're not, you're just grasping at straws. I'm back at that place where being grown up isn't half as fun as the act of growing up itself. It's a magical place. Carefree and filled with innocent delirium. For me it's year 1 B.C. In this case, B.C. stands for Before Cubicles. My mind is in that place where every experience I've known in the past year, and will know in the next two years is like a sentence punctuated with the sentiment, feeling, and statement of "...and I was so high."

Fssssssppp. That's the sound of a piece of paper being dropped into my inbox. Or rather, the sound of my youthfully recollections ( of Fantasy transgression therapy as I've grown to call it) being blown up like the Death Star. It's like the sound of a million memories being silenced all at once. As my mother would say after our family vacations - "Back to reality" (big ups to babs on this one). Or, as I now say "Back to our regularly scheduled shit fest."

......To Be Continued.

Yanks in First

Why this post? 'Cause I'm on my way to bed and the Yankees just took sole possesion of first place. Probably won't last long, but let me at least sleep easier knowing this for tonight.

Siren Music Fest

So Last night I went to the Siren Music Fest in Coney Island. I really wanted to go to see Mates of State not just because it was free but also because I like them. I was expecting crowds of hipsters and droves of freaks, but to my surprise the looming clouds and rolling fog scared them away. Sweet! MOS played a full set which was a first for me because every time I see them they are opening for some other act. Brie and Akemi ate at some ghetto ass chicken place (don't worry there's pictures) and I decided to hold off on that since I didn't want to blow out my asshole for the concert. Anyway I've included one ok picture, and two choppy audioclips (mainly choppy because for some reason there is a cellular void in Coney Island when it comes to Sprint). Hope ya'll enjoy and check back at rexojunkies for more pics to follow.

\/\/MATES OF STATE\/\/

Going Corporate

Well tomorrow I start my new job. To keep everyone posted I took the past week off just to get my shit together and relax, hence the lack of updates on the site. I can look forward to the majority of my time now being occupied by stuffed shirts and cubicles, but hey it's better than the gig I got now. Lemme just give ya'll a recap of some of the shit that's been going on.

• 7th Annual Grand Slam Weekend - Just took place at Evans. A weekend of movies (17 in all I believe) and junk food. My irritable bowel thanks them.
• Two Nights - Of getting wrecked at Pete's until 4 in the morning. Nothing drowns away the new job blues like x box and MGD.
• Rained Out Car - Finally got the car started today after a freak malfunction of the alarm that wouldn't let me start the engine.
• Here's to Xbox - Spoiled myself picked up some games to occupy my time. Bards Tale, Still Life, Phantom Dust, Bicycle Casino, Cold Fear, and Beyond Good and Evil.
• War of The Worlds - Good movie, great special effects. Watching Cruise and the kid hide for two hours not so cool. Filled obligatory mass migration of people scenes that all disaster movies must have. Learned that Voyager mini vans can survive plan crashes.

Ok well I think that's pretty much it for now, I'll keep ya'll updated and shit happens at work this week. Look for all the usual columns to come back, and don't forget to tell a friend.

Grand Slam Weekend

A Quick One While He's Away

Just letting everyone know I took the week off to relax. And by relax I mean not posting up on the website that way I can recharge my batteries for next week when I start my new job. Yay!

Peas Out.

Real World Ain't Real. Yo!

Farewell, TGUK

This was it, the end of the road for The Get Up Kids. Three shows left and I was lucky enough to see them before they are no more. Maybe 10 years is a good time for bands to break up, maybe it's a limit to how much creativity they can pump out for their fans. None of the band members seemed upset that the band was breaking up, but damn it, I am. The show rocked, the crowd rocked. The last decade rocked. From buying their first album off the defunct cdnow, to listening to their cd alone in the college cafeteria, it seems like The Get Up Kids have always provided the soundtrack, or at least the theme music to a good part of my life.

So for us fans it ended here tonight, in the bowels of Webster Hall. In a sweaty corpus of emotion we said farewell. Farewell to the lions of our youth which may never roar as they once did. But we'll always have the albums, and for the lucky few we'll always have that balmy June night in New York City.

Batman Begins

Saw Batman on Sunday night, and I must say it was better than I expected. It certainly was "darker" than the other movies, and there is something about Christian Bale. I always think of how phony he always seems, but every movie I see him in I walk away saying "he was awesome he really pulled it off." This movie, like it's title suggests, begins to show the origins (albeit for the big screen) of Batman, and what I like most is that it shows us his training, and how he gets his equipment and forms alliances. Personally I think it's important, because I think people often forget that Batman has no super power. He is human, and all facets of this are shown from his fear, to his weaknesses, to his compassion.

On a side note, saw this at the pavilion, which I now dub the Mos Eisley of movie theaters. Don't be fooled by its outer appearance, inside are nonsensical creatures that don't shut up, encourage crying babies, and allow their cell phones to ring their entire songs before shutting them off. Not to mention geniuses that block every doorway and staircase by sitting in front of them.

Off The Back Wall #3

Stories Of Our Lives By Dear John Letters
Quirky Rockers Craft Minor Masterpiece

This collection of sing song lyrics driven by stream of consciousness recollections and poetry from ex girlfriends is an album wrought with desperation that speaks for those that have ever asked "please show me a sign." Ranging from easily absorbed pianos to forays into crunchy riff rock (with songs like Hitting Below the Belt and Kings and Queens) the album weaves a masterpiece for those in the know. Bipolar displays McCartney-esque harmonies while capturing the essence of a Zoloft romance, and Creation Myth is just that, expressed in gushing streams of consciousness augmented by dreamy guitar licks. The album features a nice blend of "plugged" and "unplugged" songs, all seeming to move towards the ultimate conclusion that relationships are fucked up, we're hardest on ourselves, and hindsight is 20/20. Drowning, a depressing song keeping with the albums motif is cleverly masked as a pop song, but careful examination of the hook "Don't fight the drowning/The struggle only makes it worse" quickly reminds us what this is all about. Finally the album concludes with the track For the Sake of Love which may be the perfect song for sitting in a hotel room with a bottle of Whisky and a shotgun.

Released in 2003, Stories of Our Lives standout tracks include : You Always Win, Drowning, Disappointed, and Creation Myth.

Vinny Got Game #2 (Sangria Pt. I)

So here's the story thus far for the uninitiated. Last year Vinny started selling Sangria on the beach. Now, when I say Sangria I mean his own special blend of moonshine. Well this year it's back and Dumbass LTD. (Vinny's parent Company) has a sales plan. First off he spent $140 on supplies, mostly liquor and fruit that he fermented in a cooler. Then, using recycled Aquafina bottles (who knows where they came from) he's charging $8 a pop and selling them. Now, I caught a whiff of the Sangria and right off the bat it burnt my Olfactory pathways and damaged my Limbic System, not to mention it took the paint right off of a lawn chair I've been restoring for the folks. As of last night Vinny has made $100 of his $140 dollars. He plans on going to Coney Island to sell his bitch's Brew, however, I eagerly await for him to try to sell his Sangria on the army base, hopefully invoking the wrath of Uncle Sam and ending Vinny's bootlegging business. When I confront him about his lack of a liquor license, vending license, and the possibility that his Sangria may blind and/or kill, he fills up his Coors Light Insulated bookbag with his Aquafina Sangria and hits the street ensuring me his Sangria is the finest in the land.

Keep checking back to hear about the foibles of the bootlegging business, because one can only guess how this will all pan out...

Day of Days

Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force!

You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have
striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you. In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war
machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world.

Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well equipped and battle hardened. He will fight savagely.

But this is the year 1944! Much has happened since the Nazi triumphs of 1940-41. The United Nations have inflicted upon the Germans great defeats, in open battle, man-to-man. Our air offensive has seriously reduced their strength in the air and their capacity to wage war on the ground. Our Home Fronts have given us an overwhelming superiority in weapons and munitions
of war, and placed at our disposal great reserves of trained fighting men. The tide has turned! The free men of the world are marching together to Victory!

I have full confidence in your courage and devotion to duty and skill inbattle. We will accept nothing less than full Victory!

Good luck! And let us beseech the blessing of Almighty God upon this great and noble undertaking.

SIGNED: Dwight D. Eisenhower

Vinny Got Game #1

A new series about the man that needs no introduction...

Bay Ridge. 5th Avenue Festival. 2005. Vinny gets sloshed, comes home dressed up in American flags like he's a vet in some parade. The bandana around his head has bled it's life giving dye onto his forehead. He doesn't realize this, nor does he care. Then it starts. "Yooooo I got at least 30 numbers tonight (of course this number would fluctuate as his story went on)." Vinny goes off to the corner to "call one of these bitches right now," that's when we mute the TV. Baby Talk. That's the game he spits. I've seen it before but now I've really had it. Here is a 31 year old man, trying to use baby talk to get a grown woman to come back to his place. We laugh as he baby talks over the phone. He goes from bumbling Casanova to deflated divorcee. It reminds me of the episode of the Simpsons when Bart points out the exact moment at which Lisa breaks Ralph Wiggums heart. Vinny's baby talking ends, and he sounds like a defeated, sorry adult.

Finally, hours later we ask as a collective "Vinny, what the hell is what the baby talk?" He proceeds to try to convince us that he's used it in the past and it works. We laugh, then fall silent as I query "Name one girl it's ever worked on."

Silence.

Vinny got game, Nahhh Vinny got Baby Talk.

Obligatory Wednesday Post

Well the world still eagerly awaits for Evan and Shawn to post, the best thing we can all do is comment to their posts that they have up so it'll be forwarded to their emails, hopefully that will motivate them.

I have nothing else to say right now, but I want every one with a few minutes, a decent internet speed, and a love for the daily show to check out Jon Stewart making fun of blogs, it's hysterical and if you missed it watch it again.

Off The Back Wall #2

Novena On a Nocturn By The Good Life"Melancholy Melodies In Heavy Hangover"

This debut album from The Good Life (Tim Kasher from Cursive's side project) is the antithesis of what the band's name suggests. Like the album's title indicates the album is crafted with religious solace conveying a colorless medieval tapestry of erie keyboards and haunting vocals. Certain albums are crafted for listening at certain points of one's life. This is my perfect 12:37 a.m. album, flawlessly suited for that half conscious state between sleep and wakefulness.

From the start of the album we are greeted by Kasher's hauntingly melodic vocals and from there on in it becomes a simplisticly layered experience of keyboards, faux electronica, acoustic guitars and accordions. Ultimately the album is melancholy, yet starkly beautiful especially for those of us that get caught up in self reflection and regret. Novena's melodramatic, sometimes painfully honest life - lessons whisper back to influences such as The Cure and The Smiths, thus providing a musical perspective for a generation that grew up without these bands.

Kasher is one of the most underrated songwriters of today, and when he sings "I'll try to describe the way that it felt/To tell my own mother her son's a failure/His heart is too cold/ To love anyone but himself" he has the ability to shake tears out of even the hardest souls and deepest depths.

Released in November 2000, Novena on a Nocturn's standout tracks include Dim Entrance, Your Birthday Present, What we all Fall for When we're Down.

Worst Movies Ever # 1 A Love Song For Bobby Long

Ever have your face beaten with a mallet while you watch ninjas murder your fellow villagers and burn down your home? Well me either but I've come pretty damn close while Watching A Love Song For Bobby Long (who's working title by the way was Yawn). My main reason for seeing this movie was Scarlett Johansson, but even she could not assuage the feeling of being slowly buried alive that this film imposes on the viewer. I knew something was fishy when the clerk at the video store said "I hope you're a Travolta fan." Well I'm not, so I should have backed away from the counter, but silly me I went through with it (like the time I rode the Scream Machine high on mescaline and crank).

Acting (and I use the term loosely) is non existent in this movie. Moments of levity are serious (because they are the opposite of funny) and moments of seriousness are downright laughable. Scenes where Travolta and Johansson fight are contrived and often humorous as Travolta tries his hardest to portray a drunken southerner. The plot is thin and the big surprise of the movie is easily figured out in the first twenty minutes--rendering the ending anti climatic and predictably weak. This movie has erectile dysfunction and even a potentially good cast appeared to be lulled into a coma by it's poor pacing and shitty retread of a plot (did I mention that already? Yawn). For die hard Travolta fans you get to see his bloated carcass dance once again and see him wallow in self pity on a bathroom floor in his tighty whities. Oh and he plays a weepy blues guitar and sings songs of the South and love lost. Did I mention that? Like driving through Chernobyl on a motorcycle, avoid this movie at all costs.

Food For Thought

Ok so I was just thinking about a few things last night and then talking about them with Pete. When I go to a ski slope I have balls the size of grapefruits, I'm ready to chew the world up, spit it out, and then ask for seconds. It's all good, from the parking lot, to the entrance, to the little hut where you pay. Then things go wrong, you have to sign the "oh shit" sheet. That's when I panic, it's like "why do I have to sign this waiver? What's going on?" Then I pussy out and decide that snowtubing is cool after all.

Which of course brings me to my food for thought.....People that work on the slopes (instructors, ski patrol, etc...) do they have to sign the waivers? If they fall and get hurt do they get workmen's comp or do they get nothing because they too signed "oh shit" waivers?

Monday, err, wait Tuesday.

So what can I say? Another week some more shit to blog about. Hopefully I'll find out this week how that interview went, if all goes well hopefully I'll have a new job. James pretty much covered the whole Star Wars angle this week, I'll let him live the dream. Shawn I have a whole bag of pants for you, Evan I have that stereo, when you guys start blogging we'll make the exchange.

Was in the city on Saturday down by 28th street. It's like herding cattle down there. All they sell is jewelry, accessories, and clothing. That's why I thought it pointless when a man, not wearing a sign, not passing out fliers, just walked through the crowd shouting "pants, shirts, men women." No shit buddy, that's all there is down there. Was he just making an observation? Or, were we supposed to meet him around the corner and ask "oh please, sage of all things cheap and plastic, where is this mysterious store you speak of?" Other than that it was cool picked up some new duds.

As for the pic, I bought Life Aquatic last week and finally went through the special features. I can't say anthing bad, people I think have given up on Wes Anderson or have yet to "get*" his movies. (*man I hate saying that). Either way I thought Zissou was awesome, and I love the Criterion Collection, a little bit more money but worth it, great presentation and special features. Bill Murray Rocks, Owen Wilson Rolls, and Pele plays a wicked guitar.

That's it for now, stay tuned for a new blog entry sometime this week.

Off The Back Wall #1

Team Boo By Mates of State

"Exuberant Pop Duo Weaves Harmonies"

The first time I heard Mates of State they were on tour for the Team Boo effort, since then their infectious pop styling has had me hooked. This husband and wife drums and keys duo effortlessly weave their vocals to produce one of the most complete harmonic experiences put to record in recent years making you quickly forget the lack of guitars and ultimately realize you don't miss them at all.

What would seem like a handicap turns out to be advantageous in this case allowing for simplistic harmonies to be mixed into counterpoint call and response pop music. If you think this has been done before you are right, but if you think it's sounded this good you're wrong. The songs on Team Boo range from catchy to introspective as displayed with a dynamic in songs like Open Book and Middle is Gold like only a husband and wife can achieve, finally resting on heavier subjects in songs like Parachutes, An Experiment and Gotta Get a Problem.

Released in September 2003 Team Boo standout tracks include Whiners Bio, Open Book, Middle is Gold and An Experiment

Weezer Concert

Went to the Weezer concert last night, and I must say it rocked. It was by far the best Weezer show I've seen. Maybe because it was at Roseland a so called "smaller" venue. The band was tighter and their sound was amazing, some tracks sounding just like the albums (which is good in this case because Weezer isn't an improv band). Their new album is pretty good, I like it more than Maladroit, and it draws comparisons to Pinkerton. Despite it's Pinkerton comparisons it still has that handful of songs that remind the listener of the Blue album days. It's a good blend despite the drastic slow down near the end of the album. On record and in concert it's refreshing to see Weezer adding synths and keyboards to their sound.
All around on the boards and websites they are saying that last nights show (the second and last of the NYC series) rocked the most. I believe it. Just goes to show you have to get tickets to the last show in a city, they always do something extra special the crowd the night before didn't get to see.

Here's the setlist for those that are curious.

Tired Of Sex --In The Garage--No One Else--This Is Such A Pity--Buddy Holly--Photograph--Hold Me--Getchoo--Say It Ain't So--We Are All On Drugs--Island In The Sun--My Name Is Jonas--Peace--Beverly Hills--The Good Life--Undone - The Sweater Song

Haunt You Every Day--Hash Pipe

R.I.P.

Well the fro is no 'mo. Got an interview lined up for tomorrow and decided I had to look presentable for the man. Hopefully all will go well I shall post the results. Im drinking this soda that I had from Burger King that's been sitting in the fridge, it tastes like gray carpet. I'm going to attempt to update rexojunkies. I've been busy so I've been slow catching up. Peace out fools.

Episode III

OK well the time is almost upon us to feast our eyes on the supposed masterpiece that is 22 years in the making. As a heads up reviews are up for episode III, and most of them are good. The biggest beef seems to be that it's pg13. People are complaining that the children will be shut out. Well you know what, I had to sit through the last two movies (Three if you consider Jedi) that were geared towards the kids. Fuck the Kids. People have grown up with these movies, time to have some adult content. Bravo Lucas! Can't wait to check it out. Supposed to be the Empire of the new trilogy.

Summer Concert Update!!!

Ok so I was talking to a friend online, and we started running through the summer concerts that are happening here in NYC, so I'm helping all of you loyal readers out by posting some that I think are interesting right here. I'm sure more will pop up at they're announced but here are some so far.

MUSIC

• The New Pornographers at ProspectPark.
• The Killers, Modest Mouse, Dinosaur Jr/Broken Social Scene, Evlis Costello/Imposters, Death Cab for Cutie/Decemberists all at Central Park. Yeah these ones cost some bucks.
• Arlo Guthrie , Garth Hudson, Yo La Tengo/Steven Malkmus, The Wailers, Calexico, M.Ward, Fiery Furnaces - ALL FOR FREE as part of the WFC concert series (mostly in Rockerfeller Park and Castle Clinton.)
• The Downtown NYC River to River festival, which rocked last year, is yet to put up it's schedule. Likewise for the Siren Festival in Coney Island.

Movie Stuff

• Jaws is playing in Bryant Park on Aug 22. I'm down for that.
• Rooftop Films in Brooklyn is working on their schedule.
• Fish Called Wanda, Dr. No, and Chinatown all playing at Brooklyn Bridge Park.
• Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure (7/13), The Big Lebowski (7/20 You Know I'll be there), Up In Smoke (7/27), Clerks (8/03),Animal House (8/10) and Fast Times At Ridgemont High(8/17) all playing at pier 54 as part of the River Flicks event.
• As well as Back to the Future at pier 25 on 7/22.

Did I forget to mention that Def Leppard and Bryan Adams are playing at Keyspan Park? WHoops! Anyway's check back I'll try to keep this stuff posted. I'm also going to put this up on friendster just to back it up for those who (gasp!) don't check the blogs. Let's make some plans people.

Just An Update

Coming to Rexojunkies.com will be the Icons, Evan and Shawn. They will be providing new content for the site so I hope everyone is excited. Also look for a new article from Jibba pretty soon, or at least it seems that way from the phone call I received today.
Also, I've made my official tally, and since I began looking for my job, I've sent 205 resumes, I don't know if that's alot, but it's seems like a lot to me considering I haven't been called for one interview.
Can it be they know about me? Do they read the blog and check out the site, is that why they don't like me.
Also, I haven't forgot Evelyn sent me a special guest article that I'm going to post. Fun fun fun, keep checking back people. That is all for now. Carry on.

Oh I'm also selling my one good kidney on ebay. If anyone wants it let me know.

Live From My Desk.....

....It's another post. This weekend was this weekend. You go out maybe expecting something crazy and wild is going to happen but then it doesn't. But while in the midst of waiting you forget and it doesn't bother you that things are as they should be, as they always are. Nothing crazy happened, went to a party in Williamsburg, hung out with some of my friends I haven't seen in a while. Drank some 40's (big up's to Mario) had a few laughs. Wound up going to Grattons where I saw some other people I forgot that I had missed. All in all it was good, topped it off with stoner's special of bagels and bacon, and came home and passed out.

It took a week but I finally got my Eels cd. See originally I had pre-ordered it from the website because it was a good deal and came with a t shirt. Then I get an email mid last week saying there was a foul up with the record company and that I would receiving the cd late, with a special gift from the record company. So I said "cool" I'm in no rush. But admittedly, and shamefully, I was anxious to get this "free gift." Like Christmas morning the package arrived today and I opened the box searching for my gift. P.S. it was a shitty poster the size of a piece of looseleaf. But as I unrolled it I hoped for one last ditch effort that at the bottom it would be signed. It wasn't, and I wept. Bastards!!!!

I kept getting these email for friendster which I signed up for like two years ago but I haven't been active. Finally I broke (because I hate shit like myspace and all that junk, don't people actually make friends in real life anymore?) and went back on. Anyway I'm up and running, so those of you who know me, sign up and look me up. For those of you that don't know me, or just want to make a new buddy on friendster, check out the profile I made as 'rexojunkies.' It'll be a good way to organize field trips for friends of the site. And you can also see who else is a fan and checks out the content.

Check back again, I'm planning on adding some bells and whistles to the blog and the website. Lots of pens, lots of legal pads being used for this operation. Hope I don't disappoint.

Sponge Bob Hemp Pants

What up blog readers? You know I'm starting to feel unloved, no one ever seems to comment. Is it because you're embarrassed you are reading such a shitty blog? Is it your guilty pleasure you don't want anyone to know about? Is this less socially acceptable than admitting you have an STD?
Fogues got me the Harvey Birdman DVD for my B-day, it's some of the funniest shit I have seen. My favorite episode so far is when he has to defend Shaggy and Scoobie when they get arrested for blazing in their van. Funny shit.
I've been listening to the Decemberists lately. They have a pretty groovy vibe going. Some of their stuff sounds like sea chanteys which is pretty interesting it's not the normal everyday stuff you hear. I've heard their stuff before, but I guess this is their newest album that I'm listening to. I likes and I recommend. Damn it's hot in here.
Ok I'm back.
I'm also reading The Victors by Stephen Ambrose. It's an awesome book, which I'm starting to say about all his books that I read. He's becoming one of my favorite authors and I think I'll make it my goal to read all his books. He writes history books (and I've read a lot of history books) that are engaging and griping, as well as exciting, as few authors can do. He gives you 360 degree view of battle while keeping the scope and size of his books fairly focused and narrow.
Ok well I think that's if for the update for now. Sorry no interesting shit has been happening and I can't seem to muster up anything better to write about, maybe I should start spewing some diatribes about how I hate everything. That is of course if it would make you feel better.

Another Weekend

OK so another weekend passes us by. Saw Kung Fu Hustle, better than I thought. Went to the Yankee game, better than I thought (they actually won.) Won my third straight game in Fantasy Ball (I think).

So all day this prescription is sitting at work waiting to be picked up. We close at 5. Doors lock. We've closed at 5 for decades. 5:15 knock at door. Guy comes in to pick up prescription that's been sitting all day. I ask him for some info. He calls me "Gestapo." I put voodoo curse on him. People are such assholes.

Me and James were talking about the Hip Hop field of dreams at the baseball game. Biggie smalls at short stop, Tupac at second, Big Pun at first. Easy E catching.

Speaking of Biggie, we were also saying how Biggie, and Shaq have songs with Michael Jackson. Wouldn't it be the most rad, awesome thing in the world if Biggie, Shaq and Michael Jackson were all one the same song? It would be a sonic carnival for my ears, small ear lobes and all.

Vampires?

So I went out this past weekend for my birthday with Evan and Shawn. It was alot like the Lost Boys, I was Corey (Haim) and they were the frog brothers. Just like the movie, except with no vampires, comic books, or sleepy California town. They took me to see Sahara, and oddly enough the word Sahara wasn't mentioned once in the movie. That should tell ya'll how good it was. Then we went to the ESPN zone, sat in some recliners and pigged out like we was at my Uncle's Superbowl Party. Fun fun fun.
So yeah 24 now, but I feel alot like 22 and 7/8ths. It's all about the same. Still in the tar pit. The weather is getting nice, I would sleep with the window open, but all the birds chirping wakes me up, which isn't a good thing when you go to bed at like 5 a.m., pray for four hours of sleep, and then get woken up by some bluebird with a hard on.
Socks. I'm one short from this weekend. But I vowed to get it back. All I could think about is how the matching sock is lonely. No longer a pair, just a one. Maybe I'll write a song about that....

There's A Creaking in My Head....

And it keeps me awake at night. It keeps me away from the things I love. I was OK for a little bit. Sleeping, waking up feeling rested. But now it's back. It's Three A.M. and here I am again. No amount of teeth staining tea can save me from this. It feels like my parts have become inconsequential to the sum. Is it the snoring next door, or the TV down the hall that keeps me up? No, it's something inside of me. Something that makes me fight. So i'll go now, scribble some notes that I'll never read again, conjure up some quotes I'll forget by morning. What morning is it anyway that's coming up? Is it Wednesday or Tuesday? Do I have to move the car.


I've come up with these drawings, which proves I'm not an artist but I'm making a connection.
86, 92, 99.

The Hours Pass...

A tribute today, to one of my favorite days of the year. The first day after daylight savings that you go to work. Everything is an hour off, and work for a day is no sweat. It's six but it really feels like five, it's seven but it feels like 6:54. This is one of my favorite days. The first day of the year when you leave work and the sun is still shinning. You feel guilty like maybe you've left too early. And then the feeling hits you, "how long will this last?" I bet by Wednesday it's gone.

I Have a Bum Ticker....

OK well not me my car really. Everyday I have to start up my car just to make sure the thing is running. To get it's juices flowing. To work out the old ticker. I don't mind because it gives me something to do. Something to do at 2:44 in the morning or 12:16 in the afternoon or 9:37 at night. So im sitting there tonight in my car under the dark cover of an old tree listening to a baseball game warming up my car. Warming up for a trip to nowhere. Warming up for the sake of saving 'ol Betsy. I blink for a moment and when I return I see the world passing by my windows, fading in my rear view mirror. Prophetic isn't it? Not really. More like pathetic. Then I hear the crack of a bat, and squeal of the announcer, and the sound of rain begining to hit the roof and windshield. Shadows of raindrops dance along the dash. And then I ask myself, "What if this is it? What if this is as exciting as it all gets?"
I chirp the alarm and walk away, thinking to myself "It's all right by me."

Death Watch 2005 ends, It's raining, and other musings...

So today thus ends a week that will forever in my heart be remembered as Death Watch '05. At the start of the week millions watched hoping, asking, or denying the impending death of Terri Schiavo, and by weeks end the world was tastefully preparing for the inevitably death of the pope. Something eerie about a week when for once the media wasn't reporting death occured, but death to come. Im starting my own death watch, the Todd Bridges death watch. Why? To show it's ok to mourn the death of celebrity personas, but to sit around waiting, filling every moment of the day with it, is unnecessary. And keep in mind, baseball starts up this weekend, don't let this propaganda overshadow the real things that are important in life.

Moving along, it's raining. I've slept some this week, more than I have in a while actually. It's unpredictable really, to say when I'm going to sleep and when I'm not. It's like watching a faucet drip and trying to predict when the next drop is going to fall only to have the rhythm thrown off by some unforeseen phenomenon. I had high hopes today for this Saturday, I was supposed to do something. But it's raining. And I'm still not dressed.

Went to the movies last night, and I went to buy my tickets ahead of time. The theater wasn't open yet and a group of about 20 of us stood outside waiting. To my amazement, newcomers would walk past the line right up to the door and open it. Only, the door was locked it wouldn't open. Did those people think that the line was just standing there to socialize? Were we there for our health? Man I hate that shit.

About the rain, it reminds me of a little ditty from Robert Frost. Happen to be going through my bookshelf and dug this one out.

" have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain - and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down
the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my
eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street,
But
not to call me back or say good-bye; And further still at an unearthly height, O
luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor
right. I have been one acquainted with the night. "

Acquainted with The Night, By Robert Frost

Kind of keeps with the whole rain and insomnia thing. Man can I beat a dead horse or what?

No really I can

So what else is new?

Put up some new stuff on rexojunkies, check it out. Also picked up the new Splinter Cell. Is it just me of did they make this shit harder, took me and hour to get through first level. Ok, enough geekdom for today.
Last night, I went to move my car, but it wouldn't start. Went through the protocol of checking all the fuses, which is usually the problem,but the bitch wouldn't purr. So this morning I woke up and went to the tire shop around the block. You know, the one that when business is slow they go around slashing tires to drum up business. Anyways the Mexican't feller tells me I have to wait a bit for a boost cause he's the only one tending the shop. We watched Will Smith on the today show. It was nice, we bonded. We gelled so well, he gave me the portable jumpers and let me go around the block to do it myself. He still charged me 10 bucks though.
Well that's about it, lemme just leave ya'll with this....

Kramer:
All right, Coney Island. Ok, you can take the B or the F and switch
for the N at Broadway Lafayette, or you can go over the bridge to DeKalb
and catch the Q to Atlantic Avenue, then switch to the IRT 2, 3, 4 or 5,
but don't get on the G. See that's very tempting, but you wind up on Smith
and 9th street, then you got to get on the R.
Elaine:
Couldn't he just take the D straight to Coney Island?
Kramer:
Well, yeah...

unTITled

Just a quickie before work. Hasn't been much to write about, the weekend went well, but James wrote an article about it that I'm just going to post up on the website, hopefully tonight when I get home.

Went to the supermarket yesterday, I picked up a carton of milk that was half empty. I brought it to the register so that no one else would pick it up. luckily there was manager-type sloth standing there. I said "this is half empty." The sloth said, "Ohhh, do you still want to buy it?" .....When does the insanity end?

What's So Good About It?

It's Friday. Good Friday. It's late (or is it early?) and I'm up still, again. This week has been really bad things have been kind of blurry. I slept on Monday. In all the meanwhile watching the sunset and the sunrise all in the same course. Since then my routine has been going on the computer, watching some TV and then reading for an hour or so. By then, My mom gets up to get ready for work, I meet her by the bathroom and as she gets ready we talk. About my job search, about my hair, about what's for dinner. Then at about 6:15 I go and move my car. I then walk into the bagel store and see people ordering coffee and getting ready to go to work. Surprisingly, there are kids, probably about fourteen years old or so loading up on snacks before they go to school. Damn, did I ever get up that early for school? I can't remember at this point. Anyways, I order my egg and cheese on a bagel, read the newspaper without buying it, and head out the door. When I get outside I realize my mom told me to pick up some milk, I walk back in, say my goodbye again, and then I'm off.

I go home and by this time my mom is getting ready to leave. I ask her If she wants a ride to the train station, she says "no." She says no alot now lately, I think she just wants me to sleep. I lie and tell her I just woke up when I heard her stirring, but I think she knows I've been up all night. I look like a mess. So I go in my room, strip to my undies, sit at my desk and eat my bagel and snapple while I watch the news. Morning news, early morning news, has always seemed foreign to me. Makes me feel like I'm getting a jump on something that other people don't know about. I finish eating, make one final run around the horn to see whats on and then I pass out. Exhausted.

When I got my bagel yesterday morning there was snow on the ground, on the cars, on the garage roof outside my window. When I finally came to, at about 2:30, my day wasted, all the snow had melted.

Maybe later on I'll go get my diploma.

That Fresh Feelin

So it's three in the morning and I'm up listening to some Eels, so I decide to post. The weekend was kind of blur with a moment of clarity that was my fantasy baseball draft. Exciting right? I amaze myself that I even go out anymore. I've begun reading again, seeing that I can't find a job. Or rather, a "real job." Band of Brothers and It Don't Worry Me. B.O.B. was excellent and it was exciting to stimulate my mind again with a book, something I haven't done in a few months. I should set a challenge of books to read and see if I can complete it. It'll give me something else to blog about.
Still haven't gotten to pick up my diploma yet, funny how something I waited and worked for for over four years and I could really care less. Maybe just cause it's a piece of paper and no piece of paper can represent the sweat and tears I put into college. Ok WAIT, HOLD UP! That last line was bullshit. College just took up time, not sweat and tears. All I did was smoke pot, drink, and show up on time, which is all you need to do to get by, church, school, work...you name it. Come to think of it, being out of school for a few months now I actually partied more, stayed out later, and did more "Stuff." Bottom line school gets you up and out, that's it.
I hate to make my posts here just a rehash of what's on Rexojunkies, but I have to mention how awesome Tiny Mix Tapes is. It's a great site, and their articles are short and to the point. If you can't sum up how good, or bad an album or an artist is in a page or two then you've defeated the purpose of music, you've made it too intellectual. Two recent articles I've read are here (having to do with Lennon) and here (about the death of albums).
Anyways, say goodbye good.

Goonies Never Say Die

Do you know what that is? /\/\/\ That's the best fucking pin in the world. And just when I was away for bit, just when blogging was getting mundane, that fucking pin called to me and said, Lou, save blogdom. Well bloggies I'm back. I found that pin a drawer in my kitchen, and now, I'm going to rock it like I stole it. I vaguely remember buying that pin at a street fair when I was a kid. I got a call back on my job search. From the Prayer Channel. I'm sorry but I'm going to have to pass on this one, hope I'm not throwing my career away before it even starts, I mean what if this is a calling from God?

In late breaking news, Brooklyn College, a.k.a. Slaughter House Five, has sent me a letter.

"Congratulations on your graduation." Your diploma is now available in the Office of the Registrar...."

First off, two big fucking words in the first sentence, you just lost about 3/4 of the graduating class with that one. Second, you lying cunts. See a friend of mine ran to B.C. as soon as she got this letter only to find out that she has to bring it back cause they don't print "cum laude, magna cum laude, etc..." on the diploma without you requesting it. Those cheap ass lazy mother fuckers. So I would waste a trip down to pick up a diploma that I would have to give back. (To fix a mistake they made, and oh yeah, they'll make you wait two months mindfucking you like YOU made the mistake). They are the worst so I'm going to call up ahead of time, and bust their balls, and if I'm feeling really industrious I'll put them on speaker phone and record the convo, that way I can post it on my site for the world to see how stupid they are.

What else? Did I show you guys my awesome fucking pin? oh yeah I did.

James is blogging about sneaky tests, I remember those...I kind of miss those actually. Although I always got pissed at myself when that happened. I would think, "what kind of moron forgets he had a test today?" And then realize it was me. 'Cause I would get pissed at those people that would walk in being like "Oh snap, there's a test today?" Unless of course the moron was me.

Shit, you know what the worst part about being dead is? Not being able to feel your toes.

The Seal Hath Broken

Well, tonight I watched the trailer for episode III. I've seen the ones online already and this one is on par for what *should* be an awesome movie. Of course if this movie blows then I've wasted like 15 years of my life believing that Star Wars is awesome. Does Lucas know he holds the power to disappoint generations of fans? Ok lemme step out of my geekdom for a second and say how much I like women, and drugs, and booze and all that shit. I'm still cool, right?

If You Like ____, Try Me!

Razors, cologne, toothpaste, and now a bottle of mouthwash. To name a few, these are the things that have 'walked' out of my room. Not to mention expensive bottles of medicated shampoo that emptied themselves mysteriously when I made the mistake of leaving them in the bathroom. Living at home is a trip and I accept this, my parents are cool and we keep our lives pretty separate. I occasionally interact with them around entry and exit ways when there's a bottleneck, and associate with them during feeding periods. But, they love to use my shit with Blatant disregard of reciprocity, usufruct, or replacement.

Cheap razors, ten for two dollars. That's what my father uses. Of course, that's not when he's stealing my mach 3's or sensor excels. A few years ago my father told me how he hated shaving gels, and loved his 'foam.' Yeah, I made the mistake of thinking my Edge gel was safe in the medicine chest. But alas, he used it. And when I complained, he replaced it with some cheap CVS shit, that wasn't quite right. And of course there's the can of gel he takes with him when he travels. Uh hey, that's my can.

Mouthwash. Pathmark or Costco brand. So putrid it does more than just burn your mouth, it causes temporary blindness. I don't like spending 4 bucks on a tiny bottle of the expensive stuff, but hey, it really is better than the no frills. Of course my nice bottle of listerine slowly disappears whilst the mega bottle of Costco swill sits untouched in the bathroom. I now mark any bottles in a liquid like a paranoid parent would mark their liquor bottles in a basement bar. Top shelf mouthwash. This is how mind games in a family setting operate.

Anyway, there is a ton more stuff I could list from Oatios (Cheerios), to Fabric Scents (Fabreeze), and Pyrithione Zinc (Head and Shoulders) that my parents sneak in while they steal my stuff, but I'm feeling kind of woozie. Peace out suckas.

The End of a Season

Well another season of the Realworld comes to an end. Philly wasn't that bad, maybe the best one in the past few years. But how about Landon? Good ol Buddy Lembeck comes through and shows how the true players play. I like to believe that every season has that one character that really shows development, or at least becomes the focal point. That Landon, really tied the room together.

Bilbo Bloggins

So this weekend I went to see some flicks. First off, The Jacket. It was so - so, I thought it was the b movie cousin of the step sister of Memento. Next was The Red Orchestra, good movie, especially for history buffs, the best movie of the weekend. Lastly was a Sunday night special, Be Cool. Be Cool was horrific. That cluster fuck of a movie that comes along every so often to force you into sobriety and causes you to reassess your life.

On hot dogs and stuff...
I was reading FHM and they had some hot dog statistics and it got my mind thinking. A month or so ago me and my pal were playing Trivia Whiz in a bar and a question came up asking how many hot dogs Americans eat. I was buzzed at the time but I'm pretty sure It said Americans. Anyways, three of the four answers had numbers in the millions. I went with the fourth answer that was in the billions. Anyways I don't know the number I choose just that it was in the billions. My colleague chuckled when I got the answer wrong, jesting "come on, in the billions? Me thinks not." Well, it's true, Americans consume 20 billion hot dogs a year. As a nation, aren't we proud?

The Beatles And The Revolution In Form

Hey check out the cool picture I found online. It's from an old Beatles coloring book. Speaking of which I've been reading a book called "Songwriting" by Stephen Citron, and he writes some interesting things about the Beatles.

"The Beatles' output defies pigeonholing. Each song seems to have a different format and totally different concept. The moment they felt that they were succeeding and had one or two hits on the charts, they explored another avenue."

"They created over two hundred songs of such irreverence, wisdom, cynicism, humor, and vulnerability--to say nothing of originality--that many people seriously thought they had other composers working for them."

Also, in Citron's book is a quote by another author named Milton Okun, who wrote

"[The Beatles] made rock respectable, revolutionized the recording industry in general and the popular music industry in particular, set the precedent that a successful performer compose his own songs, and brought freedom to musical expression unprecedented in popular song. They took ideas from country & western, rhythm & blues, rock and roll. New musical terms were invented to describe their music: raga rock, baroque rock, white soul."

Anyways, there's a ton more. I'll throw some more up when I have some time.

Let Me Clear My Throat

Right, Ok so it's been a while. There's so much to say, so to keep this post down to a respectable size I have Taken a sleeping Pill.

First off Mtv---the love and hate of my life. As far as I'm concerned The Real World is it's only saving grace. Why? Because I've witnessed two extremes that I could care less about, and that left me wondering, should I blog about it?
First off "My Super Sweet Sixteen." HOLY SHIT YOU SPOILED RICH TWATS!!! Flown in by helicopter? Carried in by slaves? Its the most important non event in someone's life. A sweet sixteen is shit. Yeah, I don't have money, or a shitload of friends so I'll never know what a party with 1000 guests would be like in a trendy night club. But you know what, that shit would never fly where I'm from. I was nowhere near the coolest kid in High School, but I know what I would have done. If some rich snob had the audacity to pass around invites to people in front of other people they snubbed (i.e. because they were freshmen) and I was there, I would forcefully vomit on those trendy bitches, just so they could run home and cry about how a loser puked on them and how they had a bad hair day.

Moving right along. Mtv, do you have no shame? "Made" isn't a show showing nice deeds done to deserving losers. It's exploitation of losers. For real, you take these poor, pimply bastards who never had an once of attention their entire pubescent years and walk around filming them. I'm nice, so I don't laugh, but believe you me, on a bad day, I could watch a "Made" marathon for hours and get a hernia from laughing so much. I know it's sad to make fun of others misfortunes, but this is bread and circus just like Jerry Springer. The worst is when the cool kids act nice and the loser thinks its because they've finally "made" it. Hell no you dumb fuck its because the cool kids are like "hey, lets get on camera."

Ok, so job search is going. Neither shitty nor successful. It's been a while for me (about three weeks) but other people tell me it could take months. Serge says something will break. Hopefully he's right.

Haven't smoked weed in about a month, I'm tempted and a pal of mine that works for a hugh corporation passes the piss tests all the time, and he assures me I'll be ok if I follow his techniques. I'll think about that.

Saw a girl from the neighborhood that also had some classes with me in college. We got to talking, and somehow started chatting about computers (does that make us geeks?) and she passed on a shitload of software to me. Macromedia flash 5, Dreamweaver, some Adobe stuff, etc.... Props to her, Good looking out.

I put up a comic type story at rexojunkies, so far the response has been good, check it out peeps tell me if I should keep going.

Lastly, I've been working on a list to post of all the albums I own. This is the stuff you do I guess when you have time on your hands and you use a college degree for toiletpaper. So hopefully I'll have it up in about a week.

I've been listening to an album called "Novena on a Nocturne" by The Good Life. It's about five years old, but somehow I missed it. I can say, it's one of the best albums I've listened to in a long while. Maybe it's just indicative of how I'm feeling at this point in my life. Anyways I'm waiting for the day, and I know its coming soon, when all the music from the 90's makes it's way to classic rock stations. Wow that would be a mind fuck that makes me feel old.

Some thoughts...

In recent days tragedies have befallen the celebrity world. Paris "I can't help but photographing my tits and or vagina" Hilton had her cell phone hacked. That silly bitch. Now all of the phone numbers of her dumb ass celebrity friends have been leaked all over the internet. Serves them right for trusting an idiot with something so sacred, their privacy.
Also, the death of Hunter S. Thompson. Never read his books but saw the movies. Seemed like a cool guy. You know how I know? Because he wants his ashes shot out of a cannon. He's going out with a bang and I hope his family goes through with it. They probably won't though cause I'm sure there's some sort of health code violation or some shit that will stop them from doing something so cool.
I've been on soulseek lately, and decided to venture into one of the chat rooms because I thought there might be some intelligent conversations about music there. I was wrong. It's like everyone spends hours typing out lists of bands (most overrated, best ever, most emo...) and just pastes them into the chat room. Then you have some fucker that just says "fuck them" after anyone starts talking about a band. And them my favorite, the guy that says everyone is overrated. And as they ramble on about nothing, they kindly insert the links to their myspace pages. Hey you know when myspace stopped being cool? When 14 year old emo kids wearing eye liner and sweatbands took over.
Fin.

Women...and the little ways they are fucked up.

Yeah it's been said and overstated in blogs worldwide, But now im at my breaking point. Why you ask? Because via the ultimate tool for snubbery and tom foolery, a.k.a. a.i.m. I recieved a communique from a female. Now as men we realize that we will always be used in some way by the fairer sex. However, what they fail to realize in their infinite female wisdom is that I'm capable of having female friends who are completely plutonic, i.e. I don't wanna fuck you I really just want to be friends. Anyways, she could care to give me the time of day, and our conversations are mundane at best, but when she needs something, I am suddenly the most useful human being in history. Well I've had enough. NO I WILL NOT fix your computer. NO I WILL NOT write your term papers. NO I WILL NOT...who am I kidding? I'll do whatever you want.

Shit is just falling apart around here....

Ok I got no sleep last night, which is no big surprise things have been pretty uneventful around here, except when I was playing Tiger Woods 2005 and the game totally Freaked Out on me. My arms started flapping like noodles and rotating, then the club, then my character stood there for a bit and disappeared. Awesome. Check out some pics on Rexojunkies.com of some other uneventful stuff thats been going on.

Weekend Wrap Up....Valentine's Day Blown Way Out of Proportion

Ok so check Jame's blog for what happened this weekend. He wraps it up pretty well, however, I didn't think he got that wasted, I mean granted I passed out in my clothes and didn't wake up until about 2 in the afternoon, but it sounds like James was in bad shape. I knew things were going to get out of hand when we were ready for our "last beer" at like 1a.m. but didn't wind up leaving until 6.
Tomorrow is Valentines Day and it also marks my second Green Free Week. It also is another week that I start looking for a job. Hopefully, something will come through. Check out http://www.rexojunkies.com/rexojunkiesarticles1.htm to check out a special Valentines mix tape I put. It'll be up there until bandwidth runs out so go there quick. Burn it to a CD and give it to your special lady when you break up with her on the 15th. I was going to rant and rave about how ridiculous Valentines Day is, but fuck it, its been said and done. Besides I'm still getting over the whole tomorrow is Monday thing.
I think that's it for now, I'll be back tomorrow.

O'Conner Returns to Music, The World Yawns...

I want to at least aim my records at a more spiritualized market

But does anyone care Sinead? Sinead O'Conner just announced she intends to come out of retirement and start making music. But, will her return to reality rejunvinate her dead career? Probably not. There's nothing as sad as when an artist tries to make a comeback and no one really cares. The world, and your country are laughing at you.

Stella was a diver, and She's always down...

I don't know if its the beer or depression setting in, but shit is getting shitty around this shit hole. Either way, we know the world is coming to an end when Jose Canseco is blowing the whistle on none other than the President. Canseco admits to shooting up Big Mac and in later years George W. Bush. In chapter 9 of his book Canseco admits to visiting the Dahli Lama and filling him so full of 'roids that he shit his robe.
See the thing about his book is that he is so lacking of credibility that no one will believe the stuff that really is true. Like when he talks about how he squeezed a baggie full of his uncles piss in his ass cheeks to pass a "random test" while playing on the Oakland A's. We know that some of his stuff is true, but no one will really give a shit cause of all the bullshit. But the new release date of his book (Feb. 14) is no accident, because after all, St. Valentines day is all about squeezing as much piss and bullshit in your ass cheeks as a day can possibly hold.

I've Stepped Over the Metaphysical Line

Well my shcedule is all fucked up now. I stayed up until five in the morning yesterday, and now I'm just waking up after having gone to work today and it's 12:46. I'll probably write more some time later today, but for now I'll just wither away in my box that fights the daylight off. My nights have become an endless cycle of trying to figure out what to do between the Senifields.

Mondays...are they obsolete yet?

It's the 1248th monday of my life, and I wonder "why is this shit still around?" I mean really at this point you think us humans would have modified the calander somewhat as to possibly extend the weekend, or shorten the week, or anything in an attempt to get rid of Monday. See it's not that I hate mondays so much, it's that it takes skill and finesse to pull of a Sunday that is killer because you are always thinking about what a bummer tomorrow is going to be going back to work.

On a totally unrelated topic, I've read the new issue of Blender. Lots of good stuff in this issue, however I have a problem with Chloe Sevigny. She says she hates the beatles (which is fine by me) And Sgt' Peppers because they aren't Rock and Roll. Ok cool, but then you say you like the Annie Soundtrack and Brian Eno. Yeah Brain Eno, "Here Comes the Warm Jets" is a fucking rocking album.

super bowl

Watched the Super Bowl, got drunk at Smithwicks. What else can I say? Was anyone really suprised at who won. I know, living in New York I should hate Boston, but you know what I hate Philly that fucking much.