yeah so i've been sort of slacking, although i doubt it matters too much. but i did say i was going to do a good job with this, and so i really feel like i should. unfortunately, my previous boast of free internet is far more mitigated than i imagined it would become. so now i have finally taken that last drastic step for internet: the coffeehouse. for all the shit i talk about these places, they do have their advantages i suppose. i'm at kavahouse though, KAVAHOUSE! somebody i know walked by with her dog a few minutes ago and stopped, looked really confused and mouthed 'what are you doing here?' as if coffeeshop wasn't odd enough for me, it had to be kavahouse and not morningstar. i must admit in some ways i'd be more comfortable at morningstar; i always feel kind of shoddy at kavahouse. but fuck morningstar, seriously. i can't handle their shit, too ridiculous for me. or so i claim anyway. i was hoping brooke would be working so i'd feel a little more at ease (nope) but whoever is working was very nice, so that was more than good enough. at various points in my life have people assumed me to be a frequenter of coffeehouses, especially these two. up until now that was very distant from the truth as the only coffeehouse of note to me in eastown is my new (post-billigans speakeasy where only cool people get in) plan for the old intersection space: knocking out a wall and opening mulligans irish (? i guess they can call it that because of all the drinking?) pub and coffee house (yes, irish coffee only). but this place really is alright, and as i stand a deent chance of developing an internet addiction once i get more and more access, it may become a semiregular spot. odd to think for me. what's with coffeehouses anyway? and what's with me channeling seinfeld? on the walk down here i noticed the witch store (terra stella, not spirit dreams) or whatever had their sign out and although it often has amusing pagan witticisms on it, today's was exceptional: big lettering - GET YOUR ROCKS and then small - 15 % and then big again OFF. not bad. i've always been kind of interested in (everything but somewhere in the top 100 or so) pagan/occult stuff. very interesting twist on religion for someone who grows up crc. lot more power to the people if you know what i mean. anyway, my current position is that those sorts of things are good insofar as they inspire people to adopt different perspectives on their lives' varying situations in whatever way. is it real? what do you mean is it real? i think that if my above condition is satisfied it is real in the sense that it is effacacious (sp?). as to what makes it work, well, that's a tougher question, and if becky asks, the answer is i don't think we weren't meant to know that. if someone else asks, well, my response probably depends on my mood.
in other news, i recently purchased the new david gilmour album. and before anyone scoffs, let me just say that i was as skeptical as anyone when i first heard about it coming out (maybe because i was informed via television commercial - what the hell?) but i heard a couple good things and got the chance to borrow it and then after like three days finally got the chance to just sit down and listen to the thing without any interruptions and i really liked it. so i hereby declare it a pretty decent album. definately mellow, definately not entirely floyd but not entirely unlike floyd either of course. in fact it really isn't too many miles from the post-roger stuff, especially division bell, another album i really enjoy. i also purchased dangerdoom the mouse and the mask, which is a good time. funny stuff, good rhymes. not tooooo heavy on aldult swim samples but not too light either. i could really do without brak. but the beats really are incredible, the best thing i've heard in a while. not that i'm some sort of hip hop expert, but whatever. eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhh. i also picked up that joe walsh album with life's been good on vinyl, which is good because they PUT A FUCKIN STUPID NEW JUKEBOX IN AT THE BAR. at least one casualty has resulted: the injuring of a foot (not mine) due to disgusted kicking of said jukebox.
well i've gotten the laptop pretty well figured out, not that there was too much to do. i need some good headphones and a flash drive. good use for my rebate money if and when i see it. got a confirmation email earlier from those folks informing me it would be 8 weeks from date of postage. now, really, is there some sort of class of postage that intentionally takes extra long? like if you just mailed something to someone an equal distance away there's no way it would take that long. the answer of course is that those bastards really really really want there to be some way they can get you to never cash that check, and this is one of the important ways. i'm sure there are all sorts of important processing steps and i don't want to be rushed, but let's face it, you've got to be kind of a tightass if you're ever gonna get your rebate money. you need to follow their convoluted instructions for what to mail and how, and then actually mail it (a difficulty for many people in this country), and then keep an eye out for something encased in trojan junkmail, hoping to be unthinkingly tossed out. so yeah, watch out for those guys. and don't get me started on the couch people.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Thursday, March 23, 2006
and all the internet was free
or gratis, if you will. computers sure have gotten a whole lot sweeter in those couple years where i wasn't paying much attention to them since all i had was a glorified juke box and typewriter. ok, and solitaire machine. come to think of it, that's not a bad idea, taking everything off an old computer, maybe throw an even bigger hard drive in it and only have music and the bare necessities on it. it would be like an ipod you couldn't take anywhere. but in a couple of years some of these desktops will start looking retro in a way. floppy disk? what the fuck are you talking about? they're big enough to do cool design stuff with. i know a couple people that have been into ''modding'' their desktops and i, guess if you see it a lot that's kinda cool, but if the purpose of the machine is to serve as a jukebox of sorts you could take that in a cool direction. could build a cabinet for the whole business. anyway, this thing is great. and now i for sure can get net access in home for free any time, so that should help in the regularity of postings. except for tomorrow i'm going to chicago for the weekend and i don't think it would be necessary or even the greatest idea to bring the coumputer along. i'm not travelling on business man. i don't need to 'get something done'. and shit, it was my birthday and everything. the day itself was laid back enough but the rest of the week has been been busy. so busy that i'm writing this now instead of going out to another show, i just can't handle another night out if i'm going to chicago. guess the birthday really did make me old. show last night was amazing though, and this would be good but probably not as good. saw back forty last night, can't remember if i've written about them on here or if i wrote about them in the post that i LOST! still kinda pissed about that... anyway, they bill themselves as down home funkgrass, whatever that means to you, but its a unique sound and they're pretty good. very tight musically, but not afraid to check some stuff out. good time live if you ever get a chance (threw in a cover of that beck song debra: giiiiiiiiiiirl, i wanna get with youuuuuuu whoa and your sisterrrr). anyway, back to the computer. i'm really excited about it still and (or probably partly because) i haven't hardly even gotten to play with the thing at all. still has quite a novelty feel to it. actually thinking about reading a bunch of the owner's manual, mostly out of morbid curiosity. same force that drove me to check out the windows xp tour under the fucking start menu. i couldn't handle it for very long at all though, because it treats you like a 6 year old, like the training modules on the computers at meijer. but who knows, could still learn something useful. we shall see. much more will be gleaned from just screwing around with the thing i would guess. speaking of which, i think i'm gonna do just that for a while...
Sunday, March 19, 2006
holyfuckinshiiiiiiiiiiiiiit
as if this one was difficult to see coming.... i did it. broke down and got that laptop. i feel an unparalled sense of the satisfaction of consuming. probably the most money i've blown on one thing all at once in my life this far. and i couldnt be more thrilled. its cute, its badass, its all i wanted in a machine. i'm gonna wander around looking for wireless networks until i get this thing stolen.
haaaaaaaaaahhhh
so it looks like i'm already slacking. that is only sort of true. i had actually written a fairly lengthy entry over the coursee of a couple of days. the other evening i noticed this handwritten piece of loosleaf the other day on the table in my room and made a mental note. good thing its right there, i thought, i'm lucky i didn't lose it before i wanted to post it, i'll put that up tomorrow. tomorrow arrived and the paper naturally had vanished. no sign of it anywhere. turned up the whole goddam room. then the other room. then the car. then the first room again. this kind of shit really really really gets to me. so i've spent a day or two trying to overcome my loss and doing various other very important things, and i guess this will have to do for now.
the loss of this post, of course, does more to make the case for the laptop issue, which is almost enough to make me wonder if i didn't subconsciously lose that paper on purpose... i have the funds for this damn thing. now to overcome the anxiety about getting the "right one" etc... i feel like someone i know trying to buy a couch almost, but nothing that ridiculous.
although i said this blog wasnt gonna be a social thing (and its not) i must say that i have made some good use of hanging-out time with some good folks over the past couple of days. thank you to all of those who bothered to haul their asses to town for breaks or st paddys or random debauchery or whatever. good to see y'all. my one question is when did everyone start drinking bushmills? not that this is a bad thing but i've run into like three people who have had fifths of it within the last week. irish, i guess. also thanks to the jameson folks for some free booze, while we're on the subject.
in other booze news, i'm just about finished with a book about jim morrison. now before all you too cool for school mofos start talking shit, let me just say that i'm not one of those people. you know, the jim morrison people. those who freak out or obsess or have an otherwise unhealthy infatuation with the man. those who know me can attest to this, from probably knowing someone who is actually like this. now, i do like the doors' music, but that's not even really the issue here; the book is about jim morrison primarily and the doors peripherally. so why read a book on jim morrison? because i want to better understand exactly how it is that anyone gets people to freak out like that. so the questions are who exactly was jim morrison and what was it about him that makes us all be able to connect that name with so many other things? the book is somewhat helpful here. its called lizard king the essential jim morrison or something typical like that. its by the same guy who wrote no one here gets out alive, the Book of the Doors in the Rock and Roll Bible. that document is pretty well known and the source of many things commonly known about jim morrison. basically, the content is not much news to anyone with cable tv and a passing interest in the doors (or a problem finding the remote) knows. this other book was published much later, and i wondered what else needed to be said. turns out jim wasw a decently smart guy and a definate performer. definately gets me thinking about the meaning and power of performance. i guess the real dirt the book wanted to spill was that he really did die at least partially from heroin. this isnt a real shocker to me, and i dont see why it even matters much, but there were still lots of interesting things in there.
fixed the comments posting thing for all those out there who dont already have a blog on this system, let me know if there are still any problems. i probably wont know how to fix them if they exist, but i would still like to know.
well i'm still pretty frustrated about not finding that other post, but if it ever turns up i'll probably find some way to work most of that shit in another time. otherwise feel free to start spreding rumors about the unbridled genius of the legendary 'lost posts'.
for all west michigan readers, you are probably familiar by now with the more-infamous-by-the-day mystery development transpiring in grand rapids. yeah, the '10 000 permanent new jobs' one. well, i can't reveal my sources (although i *can* vouch for their reliability and insider status), but the leak has happened. the story will now be broken. grand rapids is to be home to the first SPACE ELEVATOR. yes, space elevator. more details as i remain in contact with my source. i'm totally getting a job there.
the loss of this post, of course, does more to make the case for the laptop issue, which is almost enough to make me wonder if i didn't subconsciously lose that paper on purpose... i have the funds for this damn thing. now to overcome the anxiety about getting the "right one" etc... i feel like someone i know trying to buy a couch almost, but nothing that ridiculous.
although i said this blog wasnt gonna be a social thing (and its not) i must say that i have made some good use of hanging-out time with some good folks over the past couple of days. thank you to all of those who bothered to haul their asses to town for breaks or st paddys or random debauchery or whatever. good to see y'all. my one question is when did everyone start drinking bushmills? not that this is a bad thing but i've run into like three people who have had fifths of it within the last week. irish, i guess. also thanks to the jameson folks for some free booze, while we're on the subject.
in other booze news, i'm just about finished with a book about jim morrison. now before all you too cool for school mofos start talking shit, let me just say that i'm not one of those people. you know, the jim morrison people. those who freak out or obsess or have an otherwise unhealthy infatuation with the man. those who know me can attest to this, from probably knowing someone who is actually like this. now, i do like the doors' music, but that's not even really the issue here; the book is about jim morrison primarily and the doors peripherally. so why read a book on jim morrison? because i want to better understand exactly how it is that anyone gets people to freak out like that. so the questions are who exactly was jim morrison and what was it about him that makes us all be able to connect that name with so many other things? the book is somewhat helpful here. its called lizard king the essential jim morrison or something typical like that. its by the same guy who wrote no one here gets out alive, the Book of the Doors in the Rock and Roll Bible. that document is pretty well known and the source of many things commonly known about jim morrison. basically, the content is not much news to anyone with cable tv and a passing interest in the doors (or a problem finding the remote) knows. this other book was published much later, and i wondered what else needed to be said. turns out jim wasw a decently smart guy and a definate performer. definately gets me thinking about the meaning and power of performance. i guess the real dirt the book wanted to spill was that he really did die at least partially from heroin. this isnt a real shocker to me, and i dont see why it even matters much, but there were still lots of interesting things in there.
fixed the comments posting thing for all those out there who dont already have a blog on this system, let me know if there are still any problems. i probably wont know how to fix them if they exist, but i would still like to know.
well i'm still pretty frustrated about not finding that other post, but if it ever turns up i'll probably find some way to work most of that shit in another time. otherwise feel free to start spreding rumors about the unbridled genius of the legendary 'lost posts'.
for all west michigan readers, you are probably familiar by now with the more-infamous-by-the-day mystery development transpiring in grand rapids. yeah, the '10 000 permanent new jobs' one. well, i can't reveal my sources (although i *can* vouch for their reliability and insider status), but the leak has happened. the story will now be broken. grand rapids is to be home to the first SPACE ELEVATOR. yes, space elevator. more details as i remain in contact with my source. i'm totally getting a job there.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
YES! In the sandwich!
Mmm-hmm. That's right. Considerations for this blog entry included a transcription of Lilly, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts. It didn't take too long for me to decide that someone out there had definately saved me the trouble; I just had to locate their work... Still no internet, and I really want to figure that whole convoluted plot out.
Which leads me to my mentioned consideration of (read: rapidly developing obsession with) obtaining a laptop. I'm feeling kind of embarressed about getting hung up on something like that, but I'm beginning to get really good at justifying it to myself. I went so far as to google for consumer reports for what's on sale this week. The main discovery was that searching for something as trite as laptop consumer reports makes the whole process a much bigger hassle. Well, I must admit, those sony vaios are fuckin cute and tempting. Perhaps I should just forego the whole process and just get wireless brain installed ( I currently am a wireless brain service provider, call me for going rates).
On the other hand, the Dylan problem made me think about the way we listen to music these days. We're rarely doing NOTHING else; typically, we're driving or casually reading or on the computer or making out or playing with the cat or mixing a drink or whatever, you get the point. Look at ipods (er, rather, try not to stare, they LOVE that shit.), I optimistically interpret them as being engineered to make music compatible with always being able to be doing something else. Point is, it makes it tough to pay close attention to an 8 or whatever minute nearly constant barrage of lyrics. At least not close enough to get all of that shit 100% straight. I like to think the point of a story song that long is in the telling of the story itself, not so much the point of the story.
In addition to the laptop, I'm also still thinking about knowing everything someone or everyone is thinking. I'm pretty sure we've all felt out of the loop about some shit at some point. Well, that wouldn't happen, but remember what its like when you find out later on? Usually a mixed feelings kind of thing. At least half the time you probably didn't want/need to know that shit anyway. Would we still feel the same way about not wanting to knokw things if it was so easy to find out about them? I dunno, it'd be way different in a lot of ways...
Related both to the Zimmerman issue and "way different" is my curent musing on how different my entries will be when I'm typing all of them (I'm handwriting and transferring most of what's in these posts when I get a chance). I'm really interested in comparing them. My theory is that the bullshit quotient will increase tenfold on the typed ones cause typing is way quicker for me. So beware or whatever, cause shit's gonna get bad.
As obvious by volume, this blog thing has been on my mind a decent amount. What may or may not also be obvious is that thus far one of the few defining features of this blog appears to be profanity. Well, for one thing, language in my opinion is one of the few apporriate venues for liberal irony (that is, deliberate oversaturation to make a point). I appreciate the use of these words because their renegade linguistic status lends them a unique versatility. Also, some of it probably has to do with growing up in a micro-milieu where using these words had a sort of badass cache, so to speak. Also, fuck 'em if they can't take a joke.
More on all of that later for sure. I fully intend to read this book I have entitled "On Bullshit". I read like the first 25 pages when I got it around Christmas but was in a bad mood ( or at least not of the disposition to put with Anglo-style philisophical writing) and put it down and shortly thereafter misplaced it (hey, its like really small). But I will read it and I'm sure if you're the type to keep checking after a lead in like all this you'll read some bullshit about it, if you will (and you might).
Brief entertainment news section: I watched Steamboy the other night, and it was pretty good. Every thing I like about anime: grandiose, over-the-top, epic, lots of eye-candy, and a hangup on a single thing throughout the flick. If you're not allergic to subtitles, make some time to watch it when you can, definately worth sitting through at least once. I know its conventional wisdom, but with this one I really do wish it had the original japanese score. In other entertainment news, House MD has been renamed CSI: ER (featuring assholes).
That about does it for now i guess. Ideally I would like to start posting every day, but until the internet issue is resolved every other day sounds like a more reasonable goal. So check back when you get a chance and hopefully there will be some form of progress. We shall see. And oh yeah:
The festival was over, the boys were all plannin' for a fall,The cabaret was quiet except for the drillin' in the wall.The curfew had been lifted and the gamblin' wheel shut down,Anyone with any sense had already left town.He was standin' in the doorway lookin' like the Jack of Hearts.He moved across the mirrored room, "Set it up for everyone," he said,Then everyone commenced to do what they were doin' before he turned their heads. Then he walked up to a stranger and he asked him with a grin,"Could you kindly tell me, friend, what time the show begins?"Then he moved into the corner, face down like the Jack of Hearts.Backstage the girls were playin' five-card stud by the stairs,Lily had two queens, she was hopin' for a third to match her pair.Outside the streets were fillin' up, the window was open wide,A gentle breeze was blowin', you could feel it from inside.Lily called another bet and drew up the Jack of Hearts.Big Jim was no one's fool, he owned the town's only diamond mine,He made his usual entrance lookin' so dandy and so fine.With his bodyguards and silver cane and every hair in place,He took whatever he wanted to and he laid it all to waste.But his bodyguards and silver cane were no match for the Jack of Hearts.Rosemary combed her hair and took a carriage into town,She slipped in through the side door lookin' like a queen without a crown.She fluttered her false eyelashes and whispered in his ear,"Sorry, darlin', that I'm late," but he didn't seem to hear.He was starin' into space over at the Jack of Hearts."I know I've seen that face before," Big Jim was thinkin' to himself,"Maybe down in Mexico or a picture up on somebody's shelf."But then the crowd began to stamp their feet and the house lights did dimAnd in the darkness of the room there was only Jim and him,Starin' at the butterfly who just drew the Jack of Hearts.Lily was a princess, she was fair-skinned and precious as a child,She did whatever she had to do, she had that certain flash every time she smiled. She'd come away from a broken home, had lots of strange affairsWith men in every walk of life which took her everywhere.But she'd never met anyone quite like the Jack of Hearts.The hangin' judge came in unnoticed and was being wined and dined,The drillin' in the wall kept up but no one seemed to pay it any mind.It was known all around that Lily had Jim's ringAnd nothing would ever come between Lily and the king.No, nothin' ever would except maybe the Jack of Hearts.Rosemary started drinkin' hard and seein' her reflection in the knife,She was tired of the attention, tired of playin' the role of Big Jim's wife.She had done a lot of bad things, even once tried suicide,Was lookin' to do just one good deed before she died.She was gazin' to the future, riding on the Jack of Hearts.Lily washed her face, took her dress off and buried it away."Has your luck run out?" she laughed at him, "Well, I guess you musthave known it would someday.Be careful not to touch the wall, there's a brand-new coat of paint,I'm glad to see you're still alive, you're lookin' like a saint."Down the hallway footsteps were comin' for the Jack of Hearts.The backstage manager was pacing all around by his chair."There's something funny going on," he said, "I can just feel it in the air."He went to get the hangin' judge, but the hangin' judge was drunk,As the leading actor hurried by in the costume of a monk.There was no actor anywhere better than the Jack of Hearts.Lily's arms were locked around the man that she dearly loved to touch,She forgot all about the man she couldn't stand who hounded her so much."I've missed you so," she said to him, and he felt she was sincere,But just beyond the door he felt jealousy and fear.Just another night in the life of the Jack of Hearts.No one knew the circumstance but they say that it happened pretty quick,The door to the dressing room burst open and a cold revolver clicked.And Big Jim was standin' there, ya couldn't say surprised,Rosemary right beside him, steady in her eyes.She was with Big Jim but she was leanin' to the Jack of Hearts.Two doors down the boys finally made it through the wallAnd cleaned out the bank safe, it's said that they got off with quite a haul.In the darkness by the riverbed they waited on the groundFor one more member who had business back in town.But they couldn't go no further without the Jack of Hearts.The next day was hangin' day, the sky was overcast and black,Big Jim lay covered up, killed by a penknife in the back.And Rosemary on the gallows, she didn't even blink,The hangin' judge was sober, he hadn't had a drink.The only person on the scene missin' was the Jack of Hearts.The cabaret was empty now, a sign said, "Closed for repair,"Lily had already taken all of the dye out of her hair.She was thinkin' 'bout her father, who she very rarely saw,Thinkin' 'bout Rosemary and thinkin' about the law.But, most of all she was thinkin' 'bout the Jack of Hearts.
Copyright © 1974 Ram's Horn Music (thanks bobdylan.com, if you can believe that's a site)
I still can't figure it all out.
Which leads me to my mentioned consideration of (read: rapidly developing obsession with) obtaining a laptop. I'm feeling kind of embarressed about getting hung up on something like that, but I'm beginning to get really good at justifying it to myself. I went so far as to google for consumer reports for what's on sale this week. The main discovery was that searching for something as trite as laptop consumer reports makes the whole process a much bigger hassle. Well, I must admit, those sony vaios are fuckin cute and tempting. Perhaps I should just forego the whole process and just get wireless brain installed ( I currently am a wireless brain service provider, call me for going rates).
On the other hand, the Dylan problem made me think about the way we listen to music these days. We're rarely doing NOTHING else; typically, we're driving or casually reading or on the computer or making out or playing with the cat or mixing a drink or whatever, you get the point. Look at ipods (er, rather, try not to stare, they LOVE that shit.), I optimistically interpret them as being engineered to make music compatible with always being able to be doing something else. Point is, it makes it tough to pay close attention to an 8 or whatever minute nearly constant barrage of lyrics. At least not close enough to get all of that shit 100% straight. I like to think the point of a story song that long is in the telling of the story itself, not so much the point of the story.
In addition to the laptop, I'm also still thinking about knowing everything someone or everyone is thinking. I'm pretty sure we've all felt out of the loop about some shit at some point. Well, that wouldn't happen, but remember what its like when you find out later on? Usually a mixed feelings kind of thing. At least half the time you probably didn't want/need to know that shit anyway. Would we still feel the same way about not wanting to knokw things if it was so easy to find out about them? I dunno, it'd be way different in a lot of ways...
Related both to the Zimmerman issue and "way different" is my curent musing on how different my entries will be when I'm typing all of them (I'm handwriting and transferring most of what's in these posts when I get a chance). I'm really interested in comparing them. My theory is that the bullshit quotient will increase tenfold on the typed ones cause typing is way quicker for me. So beware or whatever, cause shit's gonna get bad.
As obvious by volume, this blog thing has been on my mind a decent amount. What may or may not also be obvious is that thus far one of the few defining features of this blog appears to be profanity. Well, for one thing, language in my opinion is one of the few apporriate venues for liberal irony (that is, deliberate oversaturation to make a point). I appreciate the use of these words because their renegade linguistic status lends them a unique versatility. Also, some of it probably has to do with growing up in a micro-milieu where using these words had a sort of badass cache, so to speak. Also, fuck 'em if they can't take a joke.
More on all of that later for sure. I fully intend to read this book I have entitled "On Bullshit". I read like the first 25 pages when I got it around Christmas but was in a bad mood ( or at least not of the disposition to put with Anglo-style philisophical writing) and put it down and shortly thereafter misplaced it (hey, its like really small). But I will read it and I'm sure if you're the type to keep checking after a lead in like all this you'll read some bullshit about it, if you will (and you might).
Brief entertainment news section: I watched Steamboy the other night, and it was pretty good. Every thing I like about anime: grandiose, over-the-top, epic, lots of eye-candy, and a hangup on a single thing throughout the flick. If you're not allergic to subtitles, make some time to watch it when you can, definately worth sitting through at least once. I know its conventional wisdom, but with this one I really do wish it had the original japanese score. In other entertainment news, House MD has been renamed CSI: ER (featuring assholes).
That about does it for now i guess. Ideally I would like to start posting every day, but until the internet issue is resolved every other day sounds like a more reasonable goal. So check back when you get a chance and hopefully there will be some form of progress. We shall see. And oh yeah:
The festival was over, the boys were all plannin' for a fall,The cabaret was quiet except for the drillin' in the wall.The curfew had been lifted and the gamblin' wheel shut down,Anyone with any sense had already left town.He was standin' in the doorway lookin' like the Jack of Hearts.He moved across the mirrored room, "Set it up for everyone," he said,Then everyone commenced to do what they were doin' before he turned their heads. Then he walked up to a stranger and he asked him with a grin,"Could you kindly tell me, friend, what time the show begins?"Then he moved into the corner, face down like the Jack of Hearts.Backstage the girls were playin' five-card stud by the stairs,Lily had two queens, she was hopin' for a third to match her pair.Outside the streets were fillin' up, the window was open wide,A gentle breeze was blowin', you could feel it from inside.Lily called another bet and drew up the Jack of Hearts.Big Jim was no one's fool, he owned the town's only diamond mine,He made his usual entrance lookin' so dandy and so fine.With his bodyguards and silver cane and every hair in place,He took whatever he wanted to and he laid it all to waste.But his bodyguards and silver cane were no match for the Jack of Hearts.Rosemary combed her hair and took a carriage into town,She slipped in through the side door lookin' like a queen without a crown.She fluttered her false eyelashes and whispered in his ear,"Sorry, darlin', that I'm late," but he didn't seem to hear.He was starin' into space over at the Jack of Hearts."I know I've seen that face before," Big Jim was thinkin' to himself,"Maybe down in Mexico or a picture up on somebody's shelf."But then the crowd began to stamp their feet and the house lights did dimAnd in the darkness of the room there was only Jim and him,Starin' at the butterfly who just drew the Jack of Hearts.Lily was a princess, she was fair-skinned and precious as a child,She did whatever she had to do, she had that certain flash every time she smiled. She'd come away from a broken home, had lots of strange affairsWith men in every walk of life which took her everywhere.But she'd never met anyone quite like the Jack of Hearts.The hangin' judge came in unnoticed and was being wined and dined,The drillin' in the wall kept up but no one seemed to pay it any mind.It was known all around that Lily had Jim's ringAnd nothing would ever come between Lily and the king.No, nothin' ever would except maybe the Jack of Hearts.Rosemary started drinkin' hard and seein' her reflection in the knife,She was tired of the attention, tired of playin' the role of Big Jim's wife.She had done a lot of bad things, even once tried suicide,Was lookin' to do just one good deed before she died.She was gazin' to the future, riding on the Jack of Hearts.Lily washed her face, took her dress off and buried it away."Has your luck run out?" she laughed at him, "Well, I guess you musthave known it would someday.Be careful not to touch the wall, there's a brand-new coat of paint,I'm glad to see you're still alive, you're lookin' like a saint."Down the hallway footsteps were comin' for the Jack of Hearts.The backstage manager was pacing all around by his chair."There's something funny going on," he said, "I can just feel it in the air."He went to get the hangin' judge, but the hangin' judge was drunk,As the leading actor hurried by in the costume of a monk.There was no actor anywhere better than the Jack of Hearts.Lily's arms were locked around the man that she dearly loved to touch,She forgot all about the man she couldn't stand who hounded her so much."I've missed you so," she said to him, and he felt she was sincere,But just beyond the door he felt jealousy and fear.Just another night in the life of the Jack of Hearts.No one knew the circumstance but they say that it happened pretty quick,The door to the dressing room burst open and a cold revolver clicked.And Big Jim was standin' there, ya couldn't say surprised,Rosemary right beside him, steady in her eyes.She was with Big Jim but she was leanin' to the Jack of Hearts.Two doors down the boys finally made it through the wallAnd cleaned out the bank safe, it's said that they got off with quite a haul.In the darkness by the riverbed they waited on the groundFor one more member who had business back in town.But they couldn't go no further without the Jack of Hearts.The next day was hangin' day, the sky was overcast and black,Big Jim lay covered up, killed by a penknife in the back.And Rosemary on the gallows, she didn't even blink,The hangin' judge was sober, he hadn't had a drink.The only person on the scene missin' was the Jack of Hearts.The cabaret was empty now, a sign said, "Closed for repair,"Lily had already taken all of the dye out of her hair.She was thinkin' 'bout her father, who she very rarely saw,Thinkin' 'bout Rosemary and thinkin' about the law.But, most of all she was thinkin' 'bout the Jack of Hearts.
Copyright © 1974 Ram's Horn Music (thanks bobdylan.com, if you can believe that's a site)
I still can't figure it all out.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Best Blog Ever
Long story short, I was at this thing and ran into this guy and we got to talking and concluded that I didn't have a blog because it would make all other blogs look like worthless pieces of shit. Honestly, I eventually had to admit both that such was not the case, and I didn't have a good reason. Maybe it was because Megan told me to do it like five years ago and this will vindicate that claim bigtime. Oh well, she can be right on this one
THIS BLOG BELIEVES IN NAAASING, LEBOVSKY, NASING
This blog will be what it is, nothing more, nothing less. I hope it will at least amuse the folks that put up with my rants anyway. Now, you don't have to get off your lazy ass and find me at the bar. Names (and a lot of other stuff) may be omitted to avoid the hassle. The idea of having a complete all-access pass to my mind available for any one is incredibly intruiging, but way too intimidating. Does that make me repressed? In a way, yes, but we all have our hangups. Would *you* want anyone in the world you know get to hear EVERY SINGLE THING that goes through your mind, even the person you would claim oyu're the closest to? Much less so people who might want to arrest oyu for what you think. And that's why both stream of consciousness and blogs are never gonna cut it: because nobody puts ALL of it out there, and if they do, then probably they both are drunk and should not.
Just so we're clear, this is also the problem with psychotherapy. History should note that at this time in America it is pretty common to pay somebody (a special somebody who has a piece of paper that I don'y) a decent amount of money (except in the case of insurance, and unfortunately I have to work in the morning, no time to touch on that) to sit and listen to you talk, in an effort, allegedly, to acquire aforementioned all-access pass to the mind. This in any case is never actually accomplished, and yet the practice persists. Why? Perhaps because we're all getting even more opposed to said objective in the first place. Sure, honesty is a great thing and all but c'mon, what would happen if everyone could read each others' minds? Society as we know it could not exist, and chess would be impossible to play. Ups and downs, strikes and gutters.
Back to the blog. This blog, as you have just witnessed, will ramble. This blog will not, however, be an extension of any alleged social life I have or may acquire in the future. That's simply not what it's here for. There's a reason this isn't on myspace. Yeah, I went there.
So what is this thing doing suddenly sucking up server space? Mostly, I have decided that the time has come to stop being so lazy about things, something most of us could stand to do. As the radio station at work constantly reminds me "(Luuuuuuuuuunch combos are the main attraction, with) a little less talk and a lot more action." An illustrative example can also be found in a letter I reeived and have intended to reply to for 3 months now. There was a really odd metaphor amid a diatribe about the very topic of actually getting shit done. Something about attaching the stone of inspiration. Stuck with me.
So what does an enterprise essentially endowed with a healthy amount of self-indulgent narcissism have to do with winning the now-declared WAR ON LAZINESS? (prepare to go down on accessory to laziness charges) It has to do with the justification I have heretofore utilized for not fighting this sinister force of TERRA, specifically, why bother? I currently believe the answer is "why not? why the hell not?" My current state of affairs can always use improvement, and doing nothing is not a good way to ensure that happens.
And so, you might say, I've got new dip, and I'm gettin with it. This blog may, at its best, help to both encourage and document this process, because it is now necessarily tied up with everything. For example, if I have declared this blog to be my first move, it does not bode well for me if I fail to write it as much as I intend to. Toward this end, I have begaun to consider... purchasing a laptop. That, in turn, is also associated with my declared intention to go to law school. At the end of all that lies the mythic beast known in some circles as "the real world". This is the beast I didn't see the point in seeking, since the whole ordeal sounds like a pain in the ass. But on the other hand, sitting around all day leaves one wiht a sore rear as well.
Interestingly, during this rambling I still haven't said much about what this blog will be so much as whit it will not be. Well, it will be some shit I think about sometimes. Sources of inspiration will vary. That's where y'all come in. Help me out. In other words, if you are gonna bother to read my shit in the first place, can't you be bothered to help it along by commenting?
So whatever, welcome to my digital abode. No promises on any content. I don't even have fucking internet access. But so help me I will write the shit out of this blog, and in the end, it probably will make all other blogs look like pieces of shit. Google me, bitch.
THIS BLOG BELIEVES IN NAAASING, LEBOVSKY, NASING
This blog will be what it is, nothing more, nothing less. I hope it will at least amuse the folks that put up with my rants anyway. Now, you don't have to get off your lazy ass and find me at the bar. Names (and a lot of other stuff) may be omitted to avoid the hassle. The idea of having a complete all-access pass to my mind available for any one is incredibly intruiging, but way too intimidating. Does that make me repressed? In a way, yes, but we all have our hangups. Would *you* want anyone in the world you know get to hear EVERY SINGLE THING that goes through your mind, even the person you would claim oyu're the closest to? Much less so people who might want to arrest oyu for what you think. And that's why both stream of consciousness and blogs are never gonna cut it: because nobody puts ALL of it out there, and if they do, then probably they both are drunk and should not.
Just so we're clear, this is also the problem with psychotherapy. History should note that at this time in America it is pretty common to pay somebody (a special somebody who has a piece of paper that I don'y) a decent amount of money (except in the case of insurance, and unfortunately I have to work in the morning, no time to touch on that) to sit and listen to you talk, in an effort, allegedly, to acquire aforementioned all-access pass to the mind. This in any case is never actually accomplished, and yet the practice persists. Why? Perhaps because we're all getting even more opposed to said objective in the first place. Sure, honesty is a great thing and all but c'mon, what would happen if everyone could read each others' minds? Society as we know it could not exist, and chess would be impossible to play. Ups and downs, strikes and gutters.
Back to the blog. This blog, as you have just witnessed, will ramble. This blog will not, however, be an extension of any alleged social life I have or may acquire in the future. That's simply not what it's here for. There's a reason this isn't on myspace. Yeah, I went there.
So what is this thing doing suddenly sucking up server space? Mostly, I have decided that the time has come to stop being so lazy about things, something most of us could stand to do. As the radio station at work constantly reminds me "(Luuuuuuuuuunch combos are the main attraction, with) a little less talk and a lot more action." An illustrative example can also be found in a letter I reeived and have intended to reply to for 3 months now. There was a really odd metaphor amid a diatribe about the very topic of actually getting shit done. Something about attaching the stone of inspiration. Stuck with me.
So what does an enterprise essentially endowed with a healthy amount of self-indulgent narcissism have to do with winning the now-declared WAR ON LAZINESS? (prepare to go down on accessory to laziness charges) It has to do with the justification I have heretofore utilized for not fighting this sinister force of TERRA, specifically, why bother? I currently believe the answer is "why not? why the hell not?" My current state of affairs can always use improvement, and doing nothing is not a good way to ensure that happens.
And so, you might say, I've got new dip, and I'm gettin with it. This blog may, at its best, help to both encourage and document this process, because it is now necessarily tied up with everything. For example, if I have declared this blog to be my first move, it does not bode well for me if I fail to write it as much as I intend to. Toward this end, I have begaun to consider... purchasing a laptop. That, in turn, is also associated with my declared intention to go to law school. At the end of all that lies the mythic beast known in some circles as "the real world". This is the beast I didn't see the point in seeking, since the whole ordeal sounds like a pain in the ass. But on the other hand, sitting around all day leaves one wiht a sore rear as well.
Interestingly, during this rambling I still haven't said much about what this blog will be so much as whit it will not be. Well, it will be some shit I think about sometimes. Sources of inspiration will vary. That's where y'all come in. Help me out. In other words, if you are gonna bother to read my shit in the first place, can't you be bothered to help it along by commenting?
So whatever, welcome to my digital abode. No promises on any content. I don't even have fucking internet access. But so help me I will write the shit out of this blog, and in the end, it probably will make all other blogs look like pieces of shit. Google me, bitch.
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