"i'm goin' to box elder, m.o."
i skipped out on two out of three classes today on the grounds that i wasn't in the mood, dammit, and that's final. i read a pretty good essay on the development of rock as a bloated, self-serious juggernaut entitled "reconsidering rock" either today or yesterday, i don't remember which, for my pop music course, and over the weekend i read a way worse one entitled "consumption" by will straw that both bored and bothered me. that was the one i had to write a cheesy impromptu essay for, too. (ugh.)
it's been a restless day for me. i swear i could feel the headache that hit me in the evening coming from the moment i escaped the sheets. over the last few days i've slowly begun to respect artists of all stripes because a moneygrubbing suburban automaton with absolutely no imagination and a pseudo-liberal bag-lady-chic humourless artiste with no imagination are obviously of equal value to me, so anyone actually doing something interesting automatically transcends whatever foolish misrepresentations they espouse in my book. it's more complex than that but who wants to read a lot of text these days?!
lisa bought these bags of popcorn that are like half bags or 3/4 bags?! "minibags." they've got something for everyone, it seems. creepy. i swear my mentality is moving slowly but surely to a point where i'll have to operate out of a waldenesque setting, grow my own food, shoot my own game, make my own clothes, etc., because i honest to god have an unhealthy distaste for the society around me. i keep thinking i'll grow to accept it but i never let myself get that far and, anyway, it seems unnatural to do so in the first place. sick, huh?
i miss having my guitar amplifier around here, i keep meeting music nerds that i can actually imagine starting a band with. what's the point of digging digging digging for fresh pockets of music if you can't show them to anyone else? (moot point, actually, as i have a radio show to do that with.) speaking of which, my radio show sunday was - get this - the History of My Bloody Valentine. from their wannabe nick cave deal to their wannabe jesus + mary chain deal to the mbv you see before you. how very, yes? did you know that i actually like one rainer maria song? "breakfast of champions." but not lately.
i keep writing songs and they're all sort of banal and uninspired. which is sad because my songwriting technique is getting more and more involved and, dare i say it, more mature. maybe that's the problem, eh? but for fuck's sake, when i listen to slint or unwound or the microphones and the songwriting is either exquisitely spartan or unbelievably involved and perfect, you'd think that sort of panache would rub off on me a little more than it does, 'specially given my other work (which is good, you can't deny that. if you do, to hell with you.) at least i know that 80% of what i turn out is totally crap, though... a lot of people can't even figure that out when they're writing their heartwrenching clonemusic or whathaveyou.
we have a light-up jesus in our living room named giuseppe romano. this is why lisa is the best entity on this crazy planet ever. ['cept me n' joe n' my lil' bro, that is.] i'm going to break my self-imposed rules and stuff two pictures full up front on your friends page. down with lj-cut, or something like that.
a crisis on your friends page, to be sure. so we're watching welcome home, roxy carmichael right now if you can believe that and it should be a cult film, i mean it's that badgood! teeming with subpar acting and one of the clearest "vehicles for a star" i've ever seen! too much carnation pink! very early 90's! (still probably better than lisa's "safe rent" fave, truly madly deeply, though.)
and that's it, i must get back so i can watch winona "pwn" everyone else in this goddamn masterpiece of american cinema.
adios to you and yours,
ryan
xoxox
it's been a restless day for me. i swear i could feel the headache that hit me in the evening coming from the moment i escaped the sheets. over the last few days i've slowly begun to respect artists of all stripes because a moneygrubbing suburban automaton with absolutely no imagination and a pseudo-liberal bag-lady-chic humourless artiste with no imagination are obviously of equal value to me, so anyone actually doing something interesting automatically transcends whatever foolish misrepresentations they espouse in my book. it's more complex than that but who wants to read a lot of text these days?!
lisa bought these bags of popcorn that are like half bags or 3/4 bags?! "minibags." they've got something for everyone, it seems. creepy. i swear my mentality is moving slowly but surely to a point where i'll have to operate out of a waldenesque setting, grow my own food, shoot my own game, make my own clothes, etc., because i honest to god have an unhealthy distaste for the society around me. i keep thinking i'll grow to accept it but i never let myself get that far and, anyway, it seems unnatural to do so in the first place. sick, huh?
i miss having my guitar amplifier around here, i keep meeting music nerds that i can actually imagine starting a band with. what's the point of digging digging digging for fresh pockets of music if you can't show them to anyone else? (moot point, actually, as i have a radio show to do that with.) speaking of which, my radio show sunday was - get this - the History of My Bloody Valentine. from their wannabe nick cave deal to their wannabe jesus + mary chain deal to the mbv you see before you. how very, yes? did you know that i actually like one rainer maria song? "breakfast of champions." but not lately.
i keep writing songs and they're all sort of banal and uninspired. which is sad because my songwriting technique is getting more and more involved and, dare i say it, more mature. maybe that's the problem, eh? but for fuck's sake, when i listen to slint or unwound or the microphones and the songwriting is either exquisitely spartan or unbelievably involved and perfect, you'd think that sort of panache would rub off on me a little more than it does, 'specially given my other work (which is good, you can't deny that. if you do, to hell with you.) at least i know that 80% of what i turn out is totally crap, though... a lot of people can't even figure that out when they're writing their heartwrenching clonemusic or whathaveyou.
we have a light-up jesus in our living room named giuseppe romano. this is why lisa is the best entity on this crazy planet ever. ['cept me n' joe n' my lil' bro, that is.] i'm going to break my self-imposed rules and stuff two pictures full up front on your friends page. down with lj-cut, or something like that.
a crisis on your friends page, to be sure. so we're watching welcome home, roxy carmichael right now if you can believe that and it should be a cult film, i mean it's that badgood! teeming with subpar acting and one of the clearest "vehicles for a star" i've ever seen! too much carnation pink! very early 90's! (still probably better than lisa's "safe rent" fave, truly madly deeply, though.)
and that's it, i must get back so i can watch winona "pwn" everyone else in this goddamn masterpiece of american cinema.
adios to you and yours,
ryan
xoxox