read it? please. not spell checked. oh, god.
ok then. begin.
another day of shifting resumes to companies. I am a little more up beat about this job thing, but only a little. also, i applied again at border's books, but this time for the one that is to open by my house. that would be a nice job. i like people and i like books. i especially like to find out what people like what books.
speaking of books, i just finished Mark Andersens's Dance of Days: 2 Decades of Punk in the Nation's Capitol. It was like fucking a dead dog in the form of a book. it might feel ok for the first few minutes but you are going to regret it sooner then not. but then at the end you don't care and just come on the lifeless fur.
400 pages of Andersen talking about what member left what band and what band played at what venue in Sept of 1986. Man, it was tough. the ending and the beginning was nice, but that is the best i can say for it. it also gave me some insight in to some Fugazi songs that previously had been near impossible to figure out with any accuracy. for instance the song "Repeater" is about the year D.C. was the Murder Capitol of the U.S of A. sounds good to me. fuck man, i should get some kind of degree after finishing that book.
in further depressing entertainment choices, i just watched Man on the Moon again. the first time i saw it i was just on the tail end of assimilating as much Andy Kaufman as possible. even going as far as meeting his writing partner Bob Zmuda. i read the books, watched the specials and "Heartbeeps". Man on the Moon was so disappointing for its inaccuracies and general contempt for the Andy "character" that i could not stand it. so, i figure some distance has been obtained and maybe i could judge it as a movie and less as a bio-pic. it is still a piece of crap. anyway i look at it the movie that could have been will never be and this crap pile of Milos' will remain steaming while Bob Zmuda humps his dead friend in to the next decade for his own financial gain. well, he did start Comedy Relief so, he is not all bad. but come on, you just should not exploit your so-called best friends life to make money. if someone made a movie of my brother's life and it turned out like Man on the Moon, not only would i not be in the credits, but i would be in the jail because of a bottle to the face of the director. that is just about the best i can do with that. crap crap crap.
i want to have a machine that monitors my brain waves and my blood pressure at all times.
i want to have a machine that repeats "I'm A Fucking Idiot" in the voice of Philip Seymour Hoffman as Scottie from Boogie Nights sitting in his red CRX.
i want to have a machine that, what. tell me what kind of machine do you want to have?
simple machines, not world piece machines. not fueless car machines. not make me happy all the time machines.
what if Rickie Jay was your dad? would you like staying home and letting him read to you from James Joyce or Bulgakov?
i want a machine that is Rickie Jay reading what ever i put into a small compartment that would be i his belly region if it were not a machine and the it was the real Rickie Jay. no, the machine would not do slight of hand magic.
y'all take care, and thanks for getting to the bottom if you did. i love you all like Little Bill loved his wife, so much that he shot her.
-jon.
another day of shifting resumes to companies. I am a little more up beat about this job thing, but only a little. also, i applied again at border's books, but this time for the one that is to open by my house. that would be a nice job. i like people and i like books. i especially like to find out what people like what books.
speaking of books, i just finished Mark Andersens's Dance of Days: 2 Decades of Punk in the Nation's Capitol. It was like fucking a dead dog in the form of a book. it might feel ok for the first few minutes but you are going to regret it sooner then not. but then at the end you don't care and just come on the lifeless fur.
400 pages of Andersen talking about what member left what band and what band played at what venue in Sept of 1986. Man, it was tough. the ending and the beginning was nice, but that is the best i can say for it. it also gave me some insight in to some Fugazi songs that previously had been near impossible to figure out with any accuracy. for instance the song "Repeater" is about the year D.C. was the Murder Capitol of the U.S of A. sounds good to me. fuck man, i should get some kind of degree after finishing that book.
in further depressing entertainment choices, i just watched Man on the Moon again. the first time i saw it i was just on the tail end of assimilating as much Andy Kaufman as possible. even going as far as meeting his writing partner Bob Zmuda. i read the books, watched the specials and "Heartbeeps". Man on the Moon was so disappointing for its inaccuracies and general contempt for the Andy "character" that i could not stand it. so, i figure some distance has been obtained and maybe i could judge it as a movie and less as a bio-pic. it is still a piece of crap. anyway i look at it the movie that could have been will never be and this crap pile of Milos' will remain steaming while Bob Zmuda humps his dead friend in to the next decade for his own financial gain. well, he did start Comedy Relief so, he is not all bad. but come on, you just should not exploit your so-called best friends life to make money. if someone made a movie of my brother's life and it turned out like Man on the Moon, not only would i not be in the credits, but i would be in the jail because of a bottle to the face of the director. that is just about the best i can do with that. crap crap crap.
i want to have a machine that monitors my brain waves and my blood pressure at all times.
i want to have a machine that repeats "I'm A Fucking Idiot" in the voice of Philip Seymour Hoffman as Scottie from Boogie Nights sitting in his red CRX.
i want to have a machine that, what. tell me what kind of machine do you want to have?
simple machines, not world piece machines. not fueless car machines. not make me happy all the time machines.
what if Rickie Jay was your dad? would you like staying home and letting him read to you from James Joyce or Bulgakov?
i want a machine that is Rickie Jay reading what ever i put into a small compartment that would be i his belly region if it were not a machine and the it was the real Rickie Jay. no, the machine would not do slight of hand magic.
y'all take care, and thanks for getting to the bottom if you did. i love you all like Little Bill loved his wife, so much that he shot her.
-jon.