Happy Presients’ Day.

In honor and celebration of Presidents’ Day, I have been taking sips of desk whiskey throughout the day, just like Harry Truman.  He started every day with a shot of bourbon, and he won the goddamn war.  As a result of the aforementioned desk whiskey, today’s word count is woefully low.  I have, however, been playing the hell out of the guitar.  Anyway, cheers.
N.P.: “End” – The Beauty of Gemina

call Brian
You heard what I said about mini-cupcakes the other day, yeah?  So why did I get 4 of the insipid things today?  For the record, it is almost impossible to eat mini-cupcakes with pink frosting and goddamn candy hearts sprinkled on top in a masculine way, but I did it.  In fact, I dispatched 4 of the bastards like I was consuming the tiny baked hearts of my enemies, and then I washed them down with a belt of desk whiskey.
The writing so far today has been okay, but not nearly enough.  I’ll be brief here today…going to try to get some more done.
N.P.: “Animal” – Prick

How do I land

So remember a few weeks ago, I was all pissed off and angsty about the relatively sudden ubiquity of really quality entertainment (television and cinema), such that I was experiencing significant anxiety about all the amazing television and movies that I was not watching.  And that was just dealing with Netflix.  Well.  Now there’s Amazon Prime.  And that more than doubled the list of things I have to watch.  More than doubled: got a whole other list.  Shit!  And Amazon also gives you a free eBook each month to read, plus a goddamn audio book (which, by the way, I don’t particularly like audio books, but how can you turn down a “free” one?).  Add to this that every goddamn week, both Netflix and Amazon add about 30 more shows each, at least one-third of which I want to watch.  What used to be the time I watched something before bed is now spent just adding stuff to each of these insipid lists.  And let’s not forget the actual old-school made out of trees books that are stacked up waiting to be read.  AND I’m supposed to be writing about 7 books of my own!

If I took the next 7 years and did nothing but watch TV, I’m not sure that I would catch up.  Certainly not with these hyper-productive bastards churning out a new 10-episode series every single day.     I’ve started asking people who ask me whether or not I’ve seen some TV show or movie just how they do it.  How do you people manage to watch all this shit?  And I’ve not been able to get any kind of reasonable answer out of anyone.  They’re too busy watching TV.  Gah.

N.P.: “Ant Music” – Hyper

I heart London

Things that I had to attempt to deal with more than once today that truly piss me off:
  • Mini cupcakes
  • Non-alcoholic beer
  • Roundabouts in American intersections
  • Heterosexual men who claim to get “offended.”

N.P.: “Who We Be” – DMX

Life is hard.

When I complained once that “life is hard,” to a Buddhist friend, he replied, “Compared to what?”

He had a point. And that perspective has helped me a great deal in the last several years, especially recently. But no matter how many Taoist truisms or positive affirmations or sincere compliments from friends you get, there are some days when it seems the only possible human reaction is to say, out loud (but to one’s self), “To hell with it.”

Which I did. I’m going to go to bed early and just hope tomorrow is better, but today was an unexpectedly troubled one. . And I don’t mean to be my typically stupidly coy self by not elaborating…I’m just not sure what to say. But damn.

And also, to hell with it.

N.P.: “Ramalama (Bang Bang)” – Roisin Murphy

Happy Belated Birthday, Axl.

***Exclusive*** Axl Rose of Guns N 'Roses outside the police headquarters in Paris 12th arrondissement, at 163 Rue de Charenton, June 6, 2012 French police have recovered Axl Rose's stolen jewellery. The Guns N' Roses frontman reported the theft of three gold and diamond necklaces from an after-gig party at a Paris club late on Tuesday (05Jun12). The items were said to worth in excess of $200,000 (£125,000). According to reports, an unnamed model returned the jewellery on Wednesday (06Jun12) and was arrested by Paris cops. Paris, France - 06.06.12 **Only available for publication in the UK. Not available for the rest of the world ** Mandatory Credit: WENN.com

Hey man,
Sorry this is late, but yesterday was a bit of a bitch and I was busy.  Apologies.  Happy fucking birthday.
A lot has changed since last we saw each other. I’m not in Seattle anymore.  But I keep an eye on things from afar.  I hear things.  And something I recently heard about was how everybody up there lost their collective shit on the 25th anniversary of the release of Nirvana’s album Nevermind, Jesus.  It was ghastly.  So called journalists were hyperventilating as they searched for new superlatives to describe Kurt Cobain and his alleged musical genius.
Like I said, I wasn’t there to witness this myself, but I sure as hell was there at the 20th anniversary.  It was a difficult time for me.   As usual, when everybody around me is saying or thinking one thing, I’m likely thinking quite another. I got in a number of boisterous arguments with groups of people who disagreed when I listed the order of the Holy Trinity of Seattle Music as Jimi Hendrix, then Sir Mix-A-Lot, and then Nirvana. Truth be told, I didn’t even want to place Nirvana in the top three, but I also wanted very much to not start a bar fight, so I threw ‘em in there. Sometimes I just do things because I’m so nice.
Anyway, all of this nonsense reminded of some liner notes I wrote for my friend’s metal band’s first release a few years back. I thought you might dig the opening. To wit:
Kurt Cobain was like that shithead kid who came in at the beginning of first grade and sanctimoniously, precociously, and arrogantly announced that there was no such thing as Santa Claus, and did it with this super-sneery attitude, as if to say, “I can’t believe you cretins haven’t figured it out yet…you were fools for believing it at all.” But then, rather than telling that kid to fuck off, everybody just said, “Oh,” and quit enjoying Christmas for the rest of forever. 
I bet Kurt Cobain was that kid in first grade that ruined Christmas for the rest of us. Probably fucked up the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy too. That’s sure as hell what he did to rock music. Just when the rest of us were having a hell of a time wearing all black and having complicated, asymmetrical hair and snorting cocaine and standing around clubs looking cool and at each other, in mopes Kurt, bedecked in flannel and denim, trudging up to the mic. 

“Uh…rock is not supposed to be fun. Assholes.” 

The members of the audience looked at each other, then back at Kurt, then back at each other. And there we stood in our spandex, hosed down to the point of flammability in Aquanet. We put our beers down and shook our heads: Wow. Shit. Kurt’s right. Rock is not supposed to be fun. We’ve been doing it all wrong. Wipe that smile off your face. Let’s go to the mall and buy a bunch of flannel.
And that was that…for many of us. But in some parts of the world, some bold souls stood their ground. They got the memo…they just didn’t give a fuck. Never mind what some malcontent junkie in the Pacific Northwest says. Who cares? He’ll be dead in a couple years anyway.
Which he was. Deader than shit. A damn shame, but I didn’t kill him, and neither did you, Axl. It’s Not Our Problem. I’m not even sure why I brought it up. I guess the moral of all this is don’t fuck with Santa Claus. And don’t give depressed people shotguns. You and I know these things, but I don’t know about the rest of these people. But they’re not our problem either.
Anyway, happy belated birthday…
N.P.: “Welcome to the Jungle” – G’n’f’n’R

Pardon the interuption.

Unexpected Gifts

I was toiling away at the writing tonight when I had such a good idea that I actually stood up and took a bow. It was an absolutely sincere bow for an absolutely brilliant idea, but there was no one around to appreciate it. I do suspect that in several somewheres, several people suddenly smiled but couldn’t tell you why if you asked them. But I know why.
So now I’m here, feeling like taking another bow, so here goes:
Thank you.
Thou shalt now rocketh on.

N.P.: “We Are Done” – The Madden Brothers

my ticket

Vidi, vici, veni.
Writing late, nothing great, no way to discombobulate. Sunrise gets earlier and earlier.

N.P.: Everyone is Everyone (and Everything is Everything) – Au4