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:: 4.14.2001 :: (listening to: George Harrison: All Things Must Pass)
We Eat Fire: I want to come up with a list of words to avoid when looking for weblogs. Blogger, the software I use to publish, lists their most recently updated logs. Words and phrases to avoid include:
I'm going for a late night walk, and when the clock hits 12:00 I'm going to post the MP3 of the week for the most timely update ever. Not that it's going to be extra grand or anything, its just that I'm awake. (10:59 PM) :: (link)
The fine gent at Biscuit City Road sent me a wonderful minidisc compiling all the Cropduster stuff he had. I dig it, some songs better than others, but they're a good
East coast indiepop/rock band who write some pretty decent songs and a realy knack for sounding like they're enjoying themselves, which is sometimes the best feeling to convey.
(listening to: Radiohead: Amnesiac)
So yah. The new Radiohead. Yah, fucking....yah.
I rode my bike up to the collegiate part of the area to find cheap food and visit a couple of
friends. Before I left the house, I contemplated whether I should bring a jacket or not, and in
the end decided it was a good idea. I had eaten nothing but a Belgian waffle constructed in a
haphazard manner with a few slices of Turkey bacon, which I covered in pepper to give them some
flavor. I was hungry, and I barely had the energy to ride my bike up the slight incline leading
to the land of taquerias and smoke shops.
Hung out for a bit, ate my burrito like a pro, and decided to come home. Holy Jesus (
I know its your holiday in all, but I'm still taking your name in vain 'cause I fucking mean it)
was it cold outside. It wasn't windy, and it's officially Spring, and I felt colder than I probably
did all of winter put together. I had my jacket on, but I could feel the icy air shooting around
the little pearly buttons on my shirt and over the skin on my chest, forming goosebumps wherever
it touched. Holy shit was I cold.
The brakes are almost completely out on my bike, and when I pulled up to the front of my house I
was a tad out of control and almost plowed into a little girl who was looking up into the tree
at something. I apologized kindly, and possibly scared her with the redness in my face and
my hair sticking straight up.
It's going to be a long night.
I didn't talk about watching Hudson Hawk, but that's because I'm trying to forget it. Oh,
and the Sharks lost game 1 of the Stanley Cup playoffs earlier this evening. Bad day. Sad
day. But I'm happy now.
Tomorrow two things are happening. First, I've hired a
friend to do deliveries for my company. I am excited and a bit scared of the prospect of
employing someone I know. Second, we are going to the Olive Garden for dinner. Yes, we
are doing this on purpose. Yes it is to mock middle America and see just how bad things can get.
Yes I am scared.
Tragedy strikes the (!) community: I have lost my portable CD player. This is not good, it's
the same sort of "I think I put it somewhere but I can't think of that place" which occurred last
year when I lost the merch box (7"s, CDs, and all the money) belonging to my old band. I *thought*
it was in my car, but then it wasn't. I haven't see my really really nice Sony portable in almost
a week now, and I'm starting to get worried. That puppy was expensive, what with its digital output
so I could pirate Cd recordings straight to minidisc while I was on the move and its "G Protection"
system and all. Uhm, yah. Never let me babysit, who knows what would happen.
(listening to: Radiohead: Amnesiac sampler)
Confused and moody again, watching the clock in anticipation for lunch. Perhaps the coffee hasn't kicked in yet. I want to take a train somewhere, read, and stare out the window.
I took the train from Oakland to Orange County once. I couldn't afford the swanky train that runs down the coast non-stop, so I had to take the cheap train, packed with dirty kids and bitter parents. This train runs down the central valley, through Corcoran and Modesto and Fresno. In Bakersfield I departed, it was 110 degrees outside, and boarded a bus that shuttled us to Central Station in Los Angeles. I sat there the whole time trying to read Cat's Cradle while I listened to this guy who just got out of prison hit on this group of 16 year old girls. "Well, my girlfriend is supposed to pick me up at the station, but if you girls want to go somewhere else, I could always slip away." Giggling ensued. The bus is the chosen way of transportation for new parolees, always and adventurous way to go.
So yah, the MP3 of the week is late. You know why it's late? Cause
Earthlink sucks hard. Big
time connection problems last night made me look like a slacker. There's no coming back from that.
So I'm home real quick before I head to the doctor so that they can finally clear my arm as all
healed up. Things are all hurried today and I can't seem to wind down at all, I've been gritting
my teeth and being strangely hurried and stressed all afternoon, needing something to bring me
down a bit.
This MP3 of the week is one of my favorites (there are many) from the recent Bonnie 'Prince' Billy
album. This song hit me while I was driving home from the hockey game last week, weaving through
a vacant downtown San Jose right under the path of the 747s flying directly overhead. I could
see the moon and the stars and the tailights of the planes as they flew past me, making trails
of red though the air. This song is gorgeous, very similiar to his acapella version of John
Denver's The Eagle and the Hawk that appeared on a tribute record last year. Mr. Oldham
has impressed me once again.
In an unrelated note, I heard a punk song on the college radio station last night by a Seattle
band called The Briefs that I actually liked. Not that I
have this weird hatred towards punk bands, but it's been awhile since anything under two minutes
has impressed me.
Made my way down to practice yesterday trying to avoid the windtunnels formed by the tall buildings
and hilly streets in the Mission District. Nobody had shown up yet so I propped my feet up on a chair
and drank a beer and watched the 3rd period of the Sharks game. Everyone eventually arrived and we
worked on finalizing a few songs that we're going to record in the coming weeks.
MRA showed up and we walked up the hill to get burritos in the upper Mission, a trek I've done three
times in the last week. Something about their vegetarian goodies (for her) that draw us back time
and time again. We made our way down to what's quickly becoming our local, the Argus bar. The
door was closed but we made our way inside to find ourselves the only ones in attendance. The bartender
was watching Saturday Night Live reruns but we turned the TV off and put some songs on the juke. People
started to show up, and when Dolly Parton's "Islands in the Stream" came on, the entire bar danced
and sang along. It was fantastic, I wanted to put the song on again but decided that I best save
the moment instead of attempting to re-create it. I downed my Jon Benet Ramsey (Vanilla
Stoli/Ginger Ale/Crushed Cherry, very girlie) and we took off. The bartender made sure to say
goodbye.
So, looking for something different to do, we decided to go to a drum & bass club. Some big DJs
were spinning last night, so I hear, and the place got pretty packed. I'm not a newcomer to clubs,
or electronic music, but I did make some observations last night that I cannot explain. There were
people breakdancing, full on electric boogaloo stylie gettin' down on the floor, and then hi-fiving
each other. That was strange, but seemed to get the people dancing even more. People were watching the DJ too, it was
almost like being at a show, and the DJ was a band, and everyone was dancing *at* him. Like trying
to impress him while he was trying to impress us. It's a kind of DJ worship I hadn't seen before, an
almost call and response pattern but with music and dancing.
We were out late, had a good sleep, and now we're relaxing on a Sunday that was supposed to be
cold and rainy, but seems to just be cold. Weather.
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