Aesop Rock...err, I mean Fable

He (meaning Aesop) wrote a pretty good story once upon a time. It was called "The Shepherd's Boy and the Wolf". Perhaps you've heard of it? There are certain individuals who could sure use that lesson...

(being one from the weird name variety, how absolutely rad is 'Aesop'?)

I'm kinda, sorta, always right

She thinks that this pic isn't particularly hot...

She may have even used the term "tacky".

I beg to differ and (to steal the words of a fellow blogger) think it's "the cat's meow"...

Perhaps i should start shopping for Hawaiian shirts???

Tune in Tokyo: I said it first...

The Temper Trap are gonna be big. There I said it. I've known this since the moment I first met Dougie (back in 2006 whilst living in Oz, whipping a gay man's bare bottom - true story). I'm not going to try and deconstruct/analyze their music or even try to sell you on their sound. Instead, I'm just gonna let this talented down-under foursome speak for themselves...




And from their 2006 self entitled EP...

The Death of Bloggi... Hey, wait a minute!

According to an article written by Paul Boutin for Wired Mag, the blog is dead. Effective immediately. Paul argues that blogs are sooooo 2004 (like faux hawks) and personal blogs have become the exact opposite: too impersonal. According to him, the blogsphere is overrun by large, professional, corporate blogs...

"Impersonal is correct: Scroll down Technorati's list of the top 100 blogs and you'll find personal sites have been shoved aside by professional ones. Most are essentially online magazines: The Huffington Post. Engadget. TreeHugger. A stand-alone commentator can't keep up with a team of pro writers cranking out up to 30 posts a day."

Furthermore, he also offers that because of these professional, corporate blogs, the voice of the independent commentator is lost...

"When blogging was young, enthusiasts rode high, with posts quickly skyrocketing to the top of Google's search results for any given topic, fueled by generous links from fellow bloggers. In 2002, a search for "Mark" ranked Web developer Mark Pilgrim above author Mark Twain. That phenomenon was part of what made blogging so exciting. No more. Today, a search for, say, Barack Obama's latest speech will deliver a Wikipedia page, a Fox News article, and a few entries from professionally run sites like Politico.com. The odds of your clever entry appearing high on the list? Basically zero."

But what if you don't care about Google's search index and how your posts rank? Boudin's argument hinges on the presupposition that those who write blogs are in it, basically, for the all mighty search engine results. Personally? I couldn't give a rat's-ass and hadn't even thought about these so-called "search engine rankings" until I stumbled across his article. Someone once asked me why I even bother blogging. My answer is simple: I basically see my blog as a digital log, a journal if you will, documenting the highs and lows of my-so-called-life. It serves as a method in which I can remember things. I look back at my 20's and all those nights and epic times of drunken tom foolery are un-remembered, lost to the folds of my shrinking memory because, well, they were exactly that: long nights and epic times of drunken tom foolery.*

*Note: I use 'drunken tom foolery' as an all encompassing definition; I swear to you that I am not your atypical hooligan fratboy. However, if I were to go into detail about the various substances I have toyed with/abused in my past, it would read like a shopping list of an Asian Triad's chem lab. It's a wonder sometimes how I even continue to function. -(cue Green Velvet)

Furthermore, Boudin also argues that Web 2.0 technologies have also rendered the blog obsolete. Twitter, MySpace and Facebook all make posting rich content much more simple. Why bother with the long form of composition, when you can easily post a few pics, add a snatchy tag and watch the self-inflating comments roll in? "OMG, you're so cute" and " Gasp! Your outfit looks so HOT with your hair". Ummm, no thanks. I actually prefer long-form writing. (maybe it's because I still write cursively?) and I believe that taking the time to compose your thoughts and form complete sentences (in my case quasi) provides more insight into a person's character than any vapid party pic+witty comment ever could. Facebook? More like Fakebook; people's profiles always seem to relay how they want to be viewed in public, not how they actually are. My onceuponatime FB profile? Heck, even I wanted to sleep with myself. And as for Twitter? Well personally, I like to travel beyond the 140 character limit to express my thoughts and emotions.


So call me old fashioned (apparently that's what happens as you age). I write long form. Sometimes cursively. I open the door for ladies and pay for things on the first date (I still call them dates, apparently). And I blog. But as long as the drunken tom-foolery continues (and you know it will), I'll keep posting. And somewhere, someone (hopefully) will be laughing. (or at least pointing and laughing...)

I apologize for this long winded rant. I blame it on my roommate... he made me use my brain. It won't happen again. Promise. Your regularly scheduled programming of pointless accounts of social stumblings and popcprm pop culture will re-commence shortly...

Dear God...

I know I've been bad.

I know I've abandoned you for sinful, more desirable, worldly vices.

I know I'm the least likely candidate to be named after one of your more divine prophets.

But, please, please, please... If you are still tuned into my turbo, on ANY level at all...

... let the cool, outspoken, charismatic, black guy win.

That's all.

*note: please do not regard this post as insight into my affiliation with any particular religion. The term "god" was used arbitrarily and was only capitalized because it appeared in the title of this post. I am not particularly religious, unless you count the deities 'Single Malt' and 'Ice-Cold 50'. Those I worship on a daily basis.

**Update: Nov 5th - I heard this on one of my usual media outlets... Rosetta sat so that Martin Luther could walk. Martin Luther walked so that Obama could run. Obama ran so that our kids could fly...

Fistful of Feist

Missed pretty much all of Hayden's opening set. What is with me and constant gig tardiness? The '1-2-3-4' chanteuse has an incredibly serene voice, and her on-stage antics helped make the cavernous A.C.C. seem much more intimate than it actually was (nosebleeds anyone?). Constable Bacon gave me tixs as way of thanking me as I stood beside him when he took the plunge. And while I embraced the opportunity to see old friends, and for the most part enjoyed* the show, I 100%, no-doubt-about-it, still prefer this one...

*and by "enjoyed", I mean "took in".

Burning the Candle at Both Ends

Early a.m. responsibilities. Late night tom-foolery. And you'd think that would result in one tired, cranky son of a... But it doesn't, proving there's still life in these old bones. Because if not now (as I cling on to the last bastions of my youth), when??

G-money came up with the tix, so the crew went and saw the boys in blue. Now, if you know me, you know my heart lies with le bleu, blanc et rouge, but even I have enough sense not to turn down $200, platinum, rink side tickets. Too bad the 15 dollar beers weren't free as well.
Quote of the night: "You guys are in band, right?" And then, actually, we did try and see a band: Of Montreal. And we were successful. And by 'successful', I mean we saw the last 30 seconds of their encore (covering Nirvana). The best non-showing to a show ever.

(look! Peanut M&M's!!)


And then the next night, Peej and I did a little D.A.N.C.E. There was slight apprehension to this event, as I tend to not do these sorts of things anymore. But I owed Peej a b-day present and this gig was as good as any. Approaching that line, that crowd; hearing the faint rumblings of the basslines inside = instant flashback to the days where i would see Wink, Daft and Sneak on the same bill. And that lofty perch, behind the Parisians giving me a DJs-eye-view? ohmychrist. Thank God I was amongst like minded peers and not in the bowels of that crowd, because the maze that is Circa and its usual denizens were the only blemishes on this otherwise steamy night. Quote of the night: "You're cute and I just had to say hi." or maybe it was "Hey, weren't you guys at the game last night?"

A night of one too many DJs and a handful of cool kids

The venue was epic; a converted airplane hanger, plane included. And even better? - one of my best friends behind the bar. Score one for the free booze team. Which probably explains why I had to disembark from the train pre-destination this morning, in order to grab some much needed fresh air. I did not, repeat did not want to be responsible for the "vomit comet". And while the raging headache acutely reminded me that as i get older, the hangovers last longer, the memory of Tiga's (whose career I have been following long before he wore his sunglasses at night) uncanny ablity to move these retired danceshoes, bought a giant (albeit queasy) grin to my face. I went to see Soulwax, but pretty much left after Tiga was done; his dirtytechobeats definitely making it...



i heart neon.

ISO 416: sick day edition.

Today is a sick day. And the 360 is busted. And there is nothing "on demand". And it's been ages since I've posted. So I present to you this little tidbit, from the streets of Saigon.



(as with all, click on the pic to see it grow)





Title: let's go again
Camera: Canon Powershot SD30
Location: Vietnam

So this is why people have kids...

Almost makes me want one. I said almost...



very autechre/Aphex Twin-ish... and that melody at the minute and the half mark? uh-mazing.

Tune in Tokyo: New Tune Tuesdays

The new TVOTR drops today. Constable Bacon introduced me to this quintet by way of tickets to their 2006 show. Not knowing who they were (at the time) and not wanting to be one of those people that attend a show without prior knowledge of a band, I went and listened to their album of that fall.

to say i've had my hand in the "cookie" jar ever since is an understatement (and I apologize profusely for the extremely bad pun). Hearing that song, that fall/winter everywhere, didn't hurt much either.

But beyond the atmospheric melodies and ground-grumbling basslines; beyond the falsetto vocals that merge seamlessy with post-punk sensibilties, lies lead singer Tunde Adebimpe's ability to write insanely fecund lyrics.

Taken from "Young Liars" (one of TVOTR's ultimate...):

well it's cold and it's quiet
and cobblestone cold in here
fucking for fear of not wanting
to fear again
lonely is all we are
lovely so far
but my heart's still a marble
in an empty jelly jar

(followed by)

someday suppose that my
curious nervousness
spills into prescience
clairvoyant consciousness (oh my christ)
i will be calmer than cream
making maps out of your dreams

(FOLLOWED by)

but will psychic ability
clinch the nativity
or simply diminish the flinch...

This is not a grammar/linguistics lesson and i'm not even going to attempt to identify the various literary techniques present, but seriously? C'mon... what normal person possesses the ability to pen such things??

Which is exactly why TVOTR are not normal (phew)...

Which is exactly why you should give them a little (okay, a lot) of your undivided attention...

The new album. Seriously.

StreetCar Nuisances

courtesy of xkcd.com

50 dead men walking

Minus the walking. That's how I feel. But that's what happens when the Moet is free; as is the Stella; as is the Kettel One, and you have early a.m. responsibilities. And to think, once upon a time, this castle was someone's house. But during a night where the shrinking hemlines were inversely proportionate to the towering stilhettos; and where blazers and button downs were in abundance - I'm grateful for pointy tips, fedoras, punched in leather, vintage heels and Jeremy Scott.

(booyaakasha)

Roybotic NYC

As you may or may not know (or should it be, as you may or may not care?), it's fashion week in NYC. I'm not even going to pretend to write about it here; no hemlines, no designer bylines, no models, no fabrics, no patterns...nada. If you really wanna read up on it (and all things pertinent in the fashion world) I highly suggest this blog. Written by one of my homies, it is by far, my first and foremost destination for all things fashionable. More often than not, I find myself quoting directly from the author's musings in order to impress pretty girls and boys alike.

Thanks Roybot, for making me sound infinitely cooler than I actually am.

(if I had an entourage, you'd so be my stylist)

Synecdoche

My TIFF cherry got popped.

While I have always embraced this fair city's film festival (c'mon, who doesn't love 4am last call?), I have never really attempted to catch an actual festival flick. 1 part apathy, 2 parts usually-wandering-the-streets-drunk, the shitstorm that surrounds these films and their screenings usually flies outside my social radar. "It'll come out on DVD, eventually" I always tell myself, as I offhandedly browse the lineup of films. So when i received a text from Peej last night reading:

"Got two tickets for a movie at 8:30. Down?"

I figured, "meh; why not? It'll be like going to the multiplex... and for free!".

ummm... hardly so.

The lineup. (where are they putting all these people?). A speech by Kauffman. Phillip Seymour (kinda bigger than I thought). The Elgin (the local multiplex this ain't). And then there was the actual movie. Kauffman's directorial debut, produced by Spike Jonez... i'm not even going to attempt to describe it, lest I give away spoilers (which I would have to, to even start dissecting this film). Let's just say, if you are familiar with Kauffman and his work(s); well then, this is classic Kauffman (and then some). Go. See. This. Movie.

The two parts drunkedness will always be there, but I think the apathy may have vacated. It's not 4 yet? Awesome... who wants a round?

Is it cliche to ask: "Am I'm too old for this?"

I didn't TIFF. I didn't v-fest. However, I did abuse 4am last call. And I paid for it in the morning. I broke my bank account and felt wholly un-rejuvinated at the end of the weekend (please refer to title of this entry). But at 10 am, Monday morning, I sat at my desk and saw this in my in-box:

You're annoying because I CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF YOU!!!!

you suck

:)

... and my day was infinitely better.

At Some Point, We All Need to Buckle(r) Down

I really wish I brought the camera for this one...

A store opening where the Belvedere flowed freely (I'll take mine with a splash of Perrier, thanks - why do these things always insist on serving concoctions that barely pass as consumable?) The outfits were marginally better (ok I lied; there were some decent ones... esp. you Peej in that 3/4 length suit jacket. My birthday's at the end of the year, thankyouverymuch. Holy Fuck jammed (and they jammed good); people ate (and the food was delicious) and the crowd mingled with each other like only those accustomed to these sorts of things could.

Overall, a $50,000 budget well spent. When's the next???

photo credit: yours truly

Tune in Tokyo*: Erlend Oye edition

Erlend Oye has long been on my radar since he released a stellar addition to the DJ Kicks series back in April 2004. Although there seems to be two musical sides to this sonic phenom (Kings of Convenience vs DJ/Remix/Producer) it is definitely the latter of the two musical identities that I have an affinity towards. His melancholy lyrics and haunting voice, coupled with danceable beats, ideally play as a soundtrack to my existence. His work is the premiere installment in Tune in Tokyo; an area where i share tracks that move my mood (if not also my feet).

ps: Please, please, please check out his a capella cover of "There is a Light that Never goes Out" by The Smiths. Remixed with Royksopp's "Poor Leno". Epic.

(* The title of this segment is an ode to Constable Bacon)

A weekend in St Thomas: Photo Essay

tussled sheets. a kilted Scotsman. renovated train stations. tan tuxedos and bronze perforated shoes.
the past, present and future. hot tubs, pools, rose and cherry jubilees. train tracks and one too many...

oh. And there was a darling wedding as well...










congrats, A Squared, congrats...

Crtl, Alt, zzzzzztttt.

My 'puter is busted. No. I mean b-u-s-t-e-d. I know a slice or two about these things, but i have absolutely no idea what i did. It's beyond the blue screen of death. Even the pro (aka. "my brother") was like : "cool! what the hell did you do?!?!?" (He gets excited by these things, where as I generally like to curseandscreamandrantandchuckitoutthewindow. My photos, my art, my music.... shit.

those viruses; they like to camouflage themselves amongst the the foliage otherwise known as "gay porn". serves me right.

(needless to say, I might not be posting for a while)

Bling, Bling,Ka*ching

I recently got a promotion and raise @ my soul-sucking day job*.

I guess (for now) that makes it my "soul-sipping day job".

...and yes, I'm in a new tax bracket...

* please see the disclaimer here

Sunday's Cool: Road Trip Edition.

The class got split up for this one...

Rain. tardy chauffeurs. mini riots (complete with storming the barricades). excess drink tickets. DIY deep - v's. "umm, is that pee?". broken lexus'. best DD reward. ever. floor pass outs (x2) and Chromeo DJ's.

Wash.Rinse.Repeat.

(oh yeah, the hip hop was pretty dope too...)

ISO 416: Tilt-Shift edition

Taken from atop le effiel tower, gay parie...

Tilt-shift affect applied in Photoshop.

"Funny you mention, Paris..."








Title: Godzilla Would Have so Much Fun
Camera: Canon Powershot SD30 (yes a point and shoot)
Location: Paris (duh)

Welcome to Sunday's Cool

Sunny skies. brunch. Pastor Watles. 14 hours at one notorious intersection. many, many pints. being cut from work for being too drunk (not me). arguing over sofas. extracted molars. mac n' cheese n' cornflakes. amethyst crystals and crazy, crazy spirit particles.

Who's the Baby?

Woof woof woof arf arf grr woof oowwwoooooooo woof arf bark bark bark woof arf whine whine woof arf arf bark bark woof.

"muurrrooowwwrrrrmmnnngg"

(those of you that know p-dog, totally get that last one)

ISO 416

Every once in a while, I like to pretend that I know a thing or two about shutter clicks and apertures. I blame this entirely on a subconscious desire to connect with an unknown biological father, who apparently, was quite an accomplished photographer... uh, kidding...sort of. ISO 416 (pretty clever, huh?) is an area where i will post pics (i took) which you may or may not care about, since art (aka. "what constitutes as good photography) is all pretty subjective anyways.


Title: Quelle heure et 'til??
Location: Financial District
Tool: Canon Powershot S3 IS

Art Fart: Death by Skyline

Rummaging through old files, I stumbled across this piece I did way back in Winter '07. It's the last 'free will' creative process I've had that isn't tied to my soul-sucking day job*. It kinda makes me sad to think that staring all day at a computer screen hinders my ability to be creative outside of work. (excuses, excuses, i know...)

click on pic for a full frontal view.

*discalimer: I actually, kinda, sorta DO like my day job. I just used this particular term to make me seem more angst-driven and tormented. I actually lead a rather cushy life**

**depending on who you ask...

Virgin Territory

This is some stuff about stuff, which may or may not amount to much....stuff. So stuff it.