I am sending this memo to remind everyone of few winter reminders. How we (and the landlord) operate the office park is unique. This isn't expecting any of you to change behavior necessarily more just an FYI.
First, snow is only shoveled when it is above 2 inches and then in 2 inch increments. So, Jimmy, the main super, he'll shovel at 2, then 4, then 6, etc. Never at three or five. That is just a no go.
Second, we don't use road salt. The owner's son was killed in a Morton Salt mining accident under Lake Erie two years ago and we changed. Actually, the owner uses very little salt. That kind of deep hurting. The owners blonde pressure is phenomenally goof beacuse of this.
So, no salt. Instead we use sand for traction and a beet melting brine made from discarded pickling production. Hey, it works. But it makes the soles of your shoes pink. Still, be careful.
Third, some rooms are very hot and some are very cold. Not much in-between. Dress in layers. Someone once asked (I assume joked) if they could wear their swimsuit. And I answered, "If you are ok with that, sure. Would others be? I am not sure. I cant answer that. While on the clock at least." Then I made that "ba dum dsh" sound with my mouth. Like drums and cymbals at the comedy show.
Fourth, and finally, the copiers and computer monitors and lights all generate a certain amount of latent heat. And since we are now running two shifts we leave some of these idle and on to help keep just above freezing. Still don't make unnecessary copies. It is 0.00028 of a cent per page!
Oh, one last one! We deployed plastic stakes to identify what each parking space is for.
Orange is just for parking
Yellow is for eating lunch while idling. Once done go to an orange space
Red spaces are for crying.
Purple spaces are for discrete meet ups. No, not that! Like selling an old Pyrex serving dish on FB marketplace and not trying to get murdered in the process. Just to go a purple space
Black spaces are like orange spaces but for VIPs.
Spaces with no markers are still being deducted by the parking committee.
I heard about this movie on Twitter, in one of those like baiting posts from a seemingly random Internet big shot
"Tell me the last scary movie you saw. Answer with a gif"
And i recognized most of the scenes save for an odd one of this funny masked man rising up from behind a bounc woman. In that same chain someone responded "OMG Poughkeepsie Tapes" and I did some digging.
Sounded like an odd almost underground film. The kind of stuff you only heard about from friend of friends. How could this exist in the era of digitally addled cynicism?
The premise is interesting. A found footage mockumentary where a serial killer tapes everything (and I mean....everything) he does for 100s of murders over a decade long span. People said it was brutal. And its on Amazon Prime? Lets fucking go!
And its a dud. I try not to be too harsh because look at me. Look at this blog. How dare I challenge anyone who takes the time to create something? Be that brave and organized. I make posts about how I am in my feelings read by one, maybe two, if I am lucky, people on the Internet.
But this movie is a dud. For however unnerving the material (he kills a couple, beheads the husband and stuff it inside the wife!) it also is boring. Oh, yup, they are going to get killed. Got it. Imagine watching all the re-enactments on Unsolved Mysteries except without the tension or Robert Stack and you get this. At one point someone describes a brutal murder "He was gutted. Cut from his anus to his throat. Then his intestines were yanked out and wrapped around his neck. Then his genitals were removed and stuffed in a drawer."
WOW! THat would be something to see. In our movie. Which is supposedly so gory and over the top. But...nope! More lame Netflix style documentary interviews and torture porn.
Not sure but there just seems to be no menace. Maybe because we "know" its a documentary? Its like watching a gory news clip in history class. "Get on with it" is how I felt most of the time. Privelege check...maybe I would feel different if I were a woman or if lived alone or any other compounding factor that would emphasize the brutality of all this. There are rape/torture scenes that I feel are derivative of actual unnerving scenes (Some key Clockwork Orange scenes) so be warned but they are still dumb. The whole thing feels like a big bit on a Sega CD game. A movie version of Night Trap.
Movie also has that "found footage" wonkiness. Who is filming all this? How can a guy run at full tilt while holding a camera and also stabbing/gutting someone? You ever have to upload all your photos from your SD card to your cloud drive? Has you ever had to muck around with VHS tapes, folks? What a pain. This all takes place in the early 90s so its for sure a big old camcorder. And this guy some how fooled the police, had peak cardio/strength, time and resources to do all this? At one point the movie even says who odd it is he can choke out a person with one hand while holding a camera in front of them to get the shot. Isn't that something? Yeah...it is so tell us about it!
Dud. Don't take me for being some gore fan but if it can't be good then make it juicy.
One legitimately creepy scene around the one hour mark but it's 30 seconds in a plodding story.
I can't get the image of the college fitness center out of my head. The tall floor to ceiling wrap around class held by an arched steel awning. Then the grated metal floor that you had to walk over to enter. It was a hazard in the winter when all that held you on was the grit from the salt outside. The fading dawn orange lockers and then all the heather grey of both the upholstery and the people there.
Why this lingers I am not 100% sure except I wrote an awful short story set there focused on a petty infatuation I had on a girl from two semesters ago. And in peer review someone said that "I can't NOT see the fitness center here and is that what you want?" That stuck with me, even 20 years later. Tiny cutting phrases and incidents. Ever see those memes where something awkward or dumb you did years ago still hovers in your head and eats away at your sleep? Moments like those.
My first day at a new job when someone, one of the subordinates that you need to both serve and direct, told me "You are supposed to sit there" pointing to an empty office.
These moments are also artful dodges when the universe aligned to SAVE you from embarrassment. Here is a nasty one. I apologize but once I spent the day at my girlfriend's place because my apartment was being repaired. She wasn't there. She was at her job waitressing but she had two roommates with whom I was civil but still terrified of interacting. I hid in her room, reading and binging DVDs, nursing a baby fever and knawing stomach ache. No clue what happened but the ache became a throbbing roil and I had to race to the bathroom to drop every toxic thing I had. One of those horrible situations where you shit and vomit in short succession and beg to die from the floor.
Once done, I felt better and must have stumbled back to her room. This elapsed time felt infinite. The clock ticked backward and the sun slid at a pace so slow it could not be defined except with advanced trigonometry. I rehydrated myself from the multiple Nalgenes we kept idle around the room and then went again to the bathroom to discover it all still there.
I had not flushed.
Like a fucking kid.
Like a fucking drunk.
The physical discomfort left replaced by an inky swamp boil spiral of death. Had her roomamtes noticed? Maybe they didn't? That's why it is still there. or maybe they did and died of absolute horror so that when my girlfriend comes back there are the bodies of Maria and Carolyn on the floor?
This time I flushed and also reached under the sink to pry the scant cleaning chemicals stored there and quickly cleaned the scene. Scrubbing bubbled under the rim and into the bowl itself with fingernails digging into every surface. Fuck fuck fuck.
And...I got away with it. A story no one knows until this blog. Thank you, universe for that cosmic coincidence.
Its been almost a full year but we are finally politically clear to return to the office. I say politically because there is always that inherent risk. Nothing is guaranteed. These are risks minimized and further minimized until difficult to statistically measure. Until quantifying them becomes less about an amount and more about an explanation.
Not that I am afraid. I would lick all the men's room door handles to be back at work right now. In saying that I recognize my privilege but this is also my tiny blog so let me be so brazen. Honest enough to say I care about everyone's safety but mine is mine and lets go.
Don't get me wrong. The return will be insane. Filled with second guessing and "Im just saying" statements. Trust in God, if you believe in one. Or trust in your peers and your gear. But, anyway hold on.
However, I am excited for a few things. Getting steps in. I don't think I have broken 10K steps a day since the fall and find myself awkwardly running in place during video game load screens. My main work crush (I have a few) has a new hair color which I have only seen in passing on Zoom calls. Rather be frank and awkward about it from six feet away. Look forward to no more juggling of schedules and needing to find tiny windows when my kids are busy to knock something out. Just that hum drum rat race pace absent for the last near year.
Its a tragedy when my daughter's Tamagotchi died. It does not prompt you to restart. No "Game Over" or "Continue" button. Instead there is a pastel LCD headstone with a cartoony ghost blurb hovering over it. It lingers on this indefinitely. A digital memento mori to scar you further. Let me take this "F" grade and just magnet it right onto the fridge, OK?
To clear this you need to manually reset the device to factory settings. Get a sharp skinny needle and depress a pin head button in the back. Doing this to your toys always feels both perverse and deftly maneuvered. First finding the appropriate sized tool by rooting through a junk drawer (I once supervised someone who called these "hell drawers" and if I am ever president I will advocate to change our language to include this) or idle toolbox. Or something sharp from a bathroom cabinet coffee mug jammed with razor handles, makeup handles, and eye lash curlers. "Make sure to save this," you tell yourself and put that along the little Philips head screwdriver and AAA batteries.
You do the thing and get a brilliant beep and start all over again. An elite move.
I'm that sucker the read EVERY book assigned for a class. To the point that it became a running gag throughout the first twenty something years of my life.
My mother even said "Why bother reading all of the book? Everyone just reads the Cliffs Notes. Or watches the movies?!" And this, was and is still, quite true but I felt honor bound to always read these books.
Only exceptions were The Count of Monte Cristo in the 10th grade. I took my mother's advice and read the Cliffs Note and then promptly bombed the test. A test the teacher delayed because everyone complained about needing more time to read it. Serves me right. I sat behind my long running crush Irma Arzola and spent too much time day dreaming. Whenever we had gym as our special (10th grade was the last year with pre-assigned specials. 11th and 12th were for AP classes) she wore her gym outfit all day and it was all short shorts and a t-shirt a bit too tight as to see the outline of her bra.
The other exception was in college, junior year, when I took a classes called Revolutions, Rebellions and Revolts. Beyond the metal sounding name it was taught by a mustachioed Polish-American named Zenon Wasyliw that headed the history department. Less real politik than history we just learned about the details behind Che Guevara, Mao, the overthrow of the Shah. And we learned about SOuth Africa and had to read Mandela's autobiography which was huge. Two telephone books huge. Guy had plenty to say even though he was in jail for so long! And I made it until maybe 3/4ths of it before I gave up. We had maybe a week of discussion about this. In May. For a twice a week Tuesday-Thursday class. Fuck it. Until Zenon called on me because "We know you read the book!" Luckily, I bull shitted my way through the answer, which, no one could call me out on because...only I read the book!
That all said...I can't remember much of these books. Blame age. Blame the authors. Blame video games, work, kids, tiki drinks, or my allergies, but instead it series of flashes. I read them and spent money on them, but few stick.
Those that did are predominatly short story collections. CivilWarLand in Bad Decline by George Saunders. This is how you lose her by Junot Diaz. How to Breather Underwater by Julie Orringer.
And Women and Ghosts by Alison Lurie which I thought was out of print but I'm basing that on how big a pain it was to get 15 years ago. But there it was on bookshop.org with other listing for late 80s early 90s brat pack literati. Jay McInerney and Bret Easton Ellis before they became dicks. That is my jam!
These stories pop for their flow and lovely details without going overboard. All these stories center around people who are quite well off but are never un sympathetic even when receiving comeuppance. These are ghost stories after all.
Like any anthology, the stories do vary in quality. "Counting Sheep" feels like one of the magical reasons type short stories I tried in the past. What sounds quite profound (he never wants to leave so he becomes a sheep!) is just goofy. This isn't a myth and its quite literal.
"The Highboy" is the story I remember and how it didn't become a goofy tv movie must be because Laurie had scruples. She only recently passed away in December 2020 so why not cash in for your kids or grandkids. Raul Julia in Street Fighter style! In it a malevolent piece of furniture looms literally in the living room and it makes you feel and think on how we anthromprmize things. Feel scorned and owned by what surrounds us.
"Ilse's House" and "Fat People" are also bangers. I know if I were a woman I would likely appreciate these better but if you want to read to learn about others then this is good one, my brothers. Reading this gave me an early lesson that how I thought writing a female character worked was inherently wrong. Plenty of bad writing stopped right there.
Without planning it, the first two books I read in 2021 had to do with hobos.
You know, train hopping bindle and stick hobos. I guess somewhat appropriately both these books were reads of coincidence.
Hobo by Eddie Joe Cotton and then Rock Candy Mountain Vol1 by Kyle Starks and Chris Schweizer.
Hobo is supposed to be creative non fiction albeit by the end some of the escapades seem too far fetched. Eddie Joe Cotton writes down all the scraps of paper and notesbooks he kept while traveling for a three week stretch in the 90s. The escapades do have a "one upper" feel to them especially once he reaches Las Vegas. These are books with very little women in them and in Hobo they are pure one dimensional piece of scenery. Shame as Eddie then does a great job describing all the filthy scabby people and situations he encounters. The railroad police (bulls) feel menacing and the term for a hobo camp stew "mulligan" is quite satisfying. Aside from Vegas no locale seems special and maybe that is the point. This books also has its one lexicon and an about 12 page glossary of tramp terms. A book without anything to say really but still an interesting if shallow look at this sub culture.
Rock Candy Mountain has a literal hallway prison fight. Like Daredevil. Thats's awesome!
Light and breezy with a cartoon pull style this is a fun comic series.
Our hero is untouchable but a clever stipulation explains why (He made a deal with the devil, who is in the story, so that no ONE man can beat him) so it doesn't feel forced or dulling. It also has the FBI, a hobo mafia, and a bit of bare knuckle pop folklore. Has a boxer named Hundred Cat beacuse fighting him is like fighting a hundred cats This! That is awesome! This is a kinetic comic with lots of panels with little verbiage followed by then dense exposition. Perfect analogy for rumbling across the rails.
After reading all this I do not want to abandon all material possessions and slither away. I do, however, now consider myself part of the elite that knows the difference between a hobo, tramp, and bum. Ill share it because if you are reading this then you must be extra wonderful!
A hobo travels and works. A migrant worker.
A tramp travels and does not work. Wanderlust
A bum does not travel and does not work. Doldrums.
Every quarter mile or so, up would come a trailer flanked by a sagging above ground pool and varying shacks and piles of toys. A power wheels jeep about to bound over a hill of mud. Dollar store bulldozers and monster trucks on their sides in rivulets cut by driveway runoff. This is back-of-beyond Ohio, just a few miles from I77. The part of the state lonely and hilly, emblematic of the bore the state lives up to. I only judge those houses flying Stars and Bars confederate flags since irs traitorous and defeated. A purely incendiary symbol in a union state like Ohio. Fuck me so fuck you. Small towns like Duncan Falls or Cumberland boil up this settler feeling in me. Well, I could work at this little convenience store and eat at the Rusty Rooster. During the summers I would go every night to Zanesville or even Canton for a movie. A League basketball game. I would have a po box at the two room post office and would read and scribble by the Muskingum River. I can dig it. But the Stars and Bars? Paint that on the side of your truck and roll it right into the river. You are not a Duke boy.
This is all tucked in and around and the Jesse Owens State Park and the irony is indeed lost. The whole place has spindly trees and sense shrubs reclaimed from coal mining just 40 years ago. They made this place better. As recent as the 90s it was a bigger shit hole.
When I live in Central New York they called this Hollow Country. Every road was soemthing Hollow...Possum Hollow. Quail Hollow. White Hollow, etc. And each was this butt puckering Mr Toad Wild ride down a hill and then back up it twice just to swoop into a zip zag curve lousy with hidden drives. Rusted mailboxes on beat pipe piles that indicated some lonely cabin 100 yards behind the honeysuckle and sycamore.
Save...those were paved. These in Blue Rock OH were not.
Or not completely. They were a weapons grade half ass patch of pavement and gravel that disintegrated into gravel the further you got from the junction with the actual state roads. Thanos snapped his fingers and all he got was Bethlehem Road in God, people live here, Ohio.
These are the places you come to for love. Or never leave. Or, like us, to recreate.
The wife rented a posh cabin in the woods for New Years. Just one night but deep down a self made gully to a honey blonde wood cabin with a hunter green metal roof. A tall A frame with sleek stainless steel appliances. A hot tub and Private pond and hiking trails all out of an Ikea Christmas spread. Everyone loves it and the kids nest for beds. Should we sleep in the loft? Or in the basement bunk beds.
It is the only light for a three mile radius. And it is bright so you are very clear through the floor to ceiling glass window. I find myself constantly side eyeing the glass to see someone walk by. An errant local hired to be a cleaner or person trying to quickly ATV across the private property. Or someone stanf menacingly tapping on the glass. They should be in a mask because that is appropriate. Ghostface. Michael Meyers. Jason. The Strangers. But, why hide your face in rugged isolation? This guy would be brazen and flitting.
It is difficult to enjoy one self perpetually looking to the dark edges of your AirBnB. I am already anxious and juggle a sense of self doubt with a desire to control. But the family had a good time.
The household has HBO Max for a month so my mission is to watch and assload of content in these 30 days.
Kicked off with Action Park by watching it with the wife.
"Oh, there is like a whole reddit on this," she said.
"I first heard of it on a YouTube channel called Defunct Land that talks about the history of amusement parks and children's television," I replied.
I know...I'm super cool. Her blank stare tells me.
In brief, this movie is quite funny if anything with just how unhinged the park was. Imagine all those one up stories from teenage years except they are backed up but newspaper clippings. The producers drop these cartoons animations to visualize the narratives and the "Man in a Ball" one nails it. A real bottom of your balls sharp inhale of WTF feeling. And, I like water parks so an extra curl of the toes when you see the folks nearly tumbled over the sides.
It starts to sort of veer into a Gen X Forrest Gump for NJ kids when folks wax philosophical of how much fun it was. This was being a part of NJ, man! If you didn't have friction burns from the Alpine Slide then don't call yourself a true NJ kid! Which is too bad considering people died including a harrowing one on one with the mother of the parks first fatality. She even says after 39 years I still feel that pain and it does, man. Pour right through the screen.
Worth a view save. Its that same Tiger King feeling without the guilt that you were suped into some false dichotomy. Look, I love me some "That bitch Carole Baskins" memes but she is not a villain. Watch it again! But only after Action Park. And wear a helmet
Little deep moments of bravery will, one day, get me killed.
Its happened before. Anytime someone said, "Its not that deep!" or "Whats the worst the can happen?!" and then they get swallowed whole by some tiger, that was little deep moments getting someone killed. Evolutions itty bitty rolls of the dice.
Holy shit! It worked!
Thats very different than...
HOLY SHIT!
Here are little moments of bravery and their internal risk assessments and fantasy day dreams. Stay frosty.
Lonely at 3am and scrolling endlessly on my phone. Doom scrolling. Anxiety farming. Then a picture of a coworker with their family for the holiday and damn they are stunning. Like not just horny on main but holy smokes a She's All That moment. And with all sincerity I want to say "You look really nice" but we are separated by physical miles and digital barriers. MY family will see it. Other coworkers will see it. Say it when you next see her, right. Be brave and kind and sincere then! It will surely not be creepy.
Hot takes on Twitter. Turkey is great, actually! Rogue One is the best Star Wars movie! Eat a dick, Ted Cruz! Someone please @ me. I'm screaming into a void.
Fuck it, I WILL eat some more pie! I will buy the gem pack on Arena! I will have another drink. These will likely kill me in real life.
Hustling about laptops at work. This one is too big. I need all the cords before I take the new one. This is such a hassle to come in
Can someone say thank you?! Please? Before any goodwill becomes antipathy and a brewing glee to see your comeuppance?
Folks, I am excited for the cancelled holidays. We have such short memories but every year its the same recycled takes.
"Who wants to travel for Thanksgiving?"
"I do not want to see my racist uncle. I don't want to have to explain why I am not yet married. Why I don't have kids. While I still rent. Etc, etc"
"I do not have the time to clean and host 15 something people in my place!"
"I DO NOT want to talk politics with my family. Someone will turn on the news and then, shit, well there is my racist uncle"
Lovely glossy magazines and well photographed listicles will tempt us every year with new dishes to try when we are supremely sit in the same plates each and every year. We will bemoan early sales that take away from the "spirit" of the holiday and justify why its OK those folks at WalMart are there at 5pm. "Hey, they give them dinner there! They got TWO Thanksgivings"
There will be stern twitter warning from folks more woke than us saying to consider not everyone has a loving family and to be sensitive of those people who cannot (or should not) see their families. "My family told me to never come back when I said I was trans. So, fuck them. I never did"
However, in the inverted year of 2020 now everyone believes it is not just their right but THEIR DUTY to see everyone they can. Those cousins three times removed who live in Billing, MT? Oh, we NEED to be able to lick their damn eyeballs. It is my right!
No better way to entice someone then tell them they can't have it. Every parent knows this. Every school teacher. I once knew a teacher who would cover up a bookshelf in a blanket at the beginning of the year. And the kids would freak the fuck out.
"Ms, Iorio! Ms. Iorio, WHAT IS UNDER THE BLANKET!?"
"You will have to wait and see!"
And those kids poked and scooted closer to it until it was revealed it was just books! Ready for one we mastered the earlier texts.
But when leadership doesn't back these appeals to common decency and the social contract with consequences then we get the eye ball licking. Folks sneering as they pour over a Norman Rockwell spread tinted by pandemic undertones. Let us the Instagram filter of Biohazard. Smile, everyone!
Blame capitalism. Blame the perversion of American conservatism from a sort of rugged individualism to a perpetual state of sorrow. Blame China. Blame the Karens and Chads. This is nuanced for sure and our hyper polarized world does not allow for that. So, pick your poison and hopefully stay home.
I will and relish a Thanksgiving spent with my nuclear family and no people I need to pretend to enjoy.
I'm a neurotic sort. In my lifetime its become quite popular to self diagnose as "My OCD!" or "all the anxiety" and I was not immune to this trend. Albeit, I dont feel I played it for anything of significant gain. Just how I have always been.
My mother always had us three hours early to the airport. Just in case. This was before the security theater of post 9/11 when you could walk to the gates. Eat miniature hash browns at the cafe by the American Airlines terminal at SJU with all the time. That treat felt so decadent and foreign to my palate. Why only at the airport? I was only an adult when I realized it was to please tourists used to fast food style hash browns. Which are still quite delicious so I understand.
I once took a business trip to Atlanta. Didn't see much but I traveled with a colleague who also wanted to get to the airport early and I felt so relieved. Here is someone who understood me and to whom it could be myself even in the awkward personal/professional event horizon of a business trip.
Still on airports never did my stomach sink so low when my girlfriend said "I forgot my ID" while we were three people away from the check in at JFK. This after a 6 hour bus ride from upstate and a brief lunch with her aunt in Manhattan and then a subway ride to the train. This WAS post 9/11 and here was the entire trip about to be rendered asunder. I was my true self and freaked out. Snapped at her and kicked off one of those gritted teeth arguments in public where concerned strangers get a "No, everything is ok. We swear! Oh, lovely shirt you got there by the way..."
She dug through her backpack fumbling for a driver's license she never planned on using while I raced through the dread of telling everyone we weren't coming. And finding a place while we planned on returning upstate.
She found it. Deep and buried below triple folder clothes and a box of dog treats. "What are those for?" I asked.
"For your dog back home. To introduce myself" she said with deep gun metal blue dagger eyes. We made the trip and about four months later broke up. We had dated for nine months but it felt like nine years when all was finalized. We both found people more tolerant of our true selves.
Boy does this song have it all. Starts with the brassy hit like a high school marching band is about to come down field and play Stars and Stripes Forever. Then that funky snap like a cello bounding over Mt. Everest before segueing into the main song. There it has all this bumping and dueling staccato with the organize frenzy that partially peaks at "SMACK BY BITCH UP!" before then wilding out again. The only break is the female one note solo that then goes right back into madness.
I enjoyed this song a bit too much for someone who the hardest thing they ever took was quinine and black coffee while abroad in Nicaragua. Other The Prodigy songs I admire are Diesel Power and Climbatize and Spitfire. I am quite the "on paper" hard character you see. Or at least 20 something me did while wearing this out on the old Discman.
These are songs to do heroin to. I think the song is ABOUT heroin. Have you seen the video? It has a twist that is still a bit surprising albeit more in a "I need to check my preconceived notions" then blow my mind style.
At some point life slows down to where the excitement of getting new tires matches the same deep welled glee of a birthday present. This is where I find myself, at a point when writing stories becomes alluringly navel gazing. Let me write about how no one understands me. About stumbling on an exe's or co worker's social media and having something new to fantasize to. This is where the "manic pixie girl" trope emerged. You have seen those movies.
Garden State. 500 Days of Summer. Elizabethtown
I often found value in work but that has become an iterative cycle of hurry up and wait. Race to the finish and then stop a your very tip toes so you bend at the waist and wobble over the line while you wait. For a final word. Chase the ghost of approval from a standstill. This works both professionally and personally. Where are you and where is it? Whatever the it is.
Have not put digital pen to this blog in a while. I remember in the heyday of blogging (the haughty aughts) and apologizing for those long delays. I don't know enough about streaming but do content creators do that?
"Hey, everyone, its your boi XGonnaGiveittoya here. Sorry for the delay. I was just feeling blue and also busy for two months straight"
Ill see what I can do. Get out the writing prompts and scribble. Just hope to avoid someone swinging from the air with blue hair.
80 billion gallons fell over our 12 county area in 8 hours said the weekend weather man. The man who is not as handsome as the prime time man. Still somewhat stilted and fishing for a catch phrase that will take him to big weather cities. Miami. New York. Anywhere but here.
Clapboard weather that pitter patters on the un-used exhaust vent in my apartment. Soaked drenched phone book weather. The amount of water that turns these relics into suburban super weapons to be tossed over highway pedestrian bridges. A tiny bit of free mayhem just needing a nudge.
Tomorrow the already dense spindles of tomatoes will surge from their August peak into an Indian summer of green ticking against a clock and root bound to stop them from rending more fruit. The plants my neighbor left on her porch will soon need to be brought in. I anthropomorphize the plants and here is her scheflerra commenting on he difference in mineral from rain water to tap."This really tastes better, Janet. The rain water I mean. On my rhizomes"
Here are torrents that pour through the broken glass of old warehouses. Places you can ge for a deal. Call Lou Sala for a deal on this place where vines cover the area code. Moss grows over the drenched upholstery from the abandoned break room sofas.
Clammy basement weather. Trapped in a bar called the Barking Spider where they only have hot fries to eat and the TV got soaked through a hole in the siding.
What millennial doesn't like this song? Its perfect for the car. It has some gravity (especially if you watch the video and even cursorily glance at the history it references) but is also just a great jam. My favorite part is the in the percussive wrap up at the end where the drums just flip back and forth. A great part to zen out to watching the concentric circles of the Windows Media Player animations. To imagine someone dancing and flipping their hair back to each beat.
Thanks for reading! If you made it this long then I hope you collected copious data for your masters in Vladivostok.
Sometimes I look at my children and see how they inherent all my flaws and little of whatever strength or knowledge I have. That said maybe my strengths are just neuroses that render some productivity. A deep desire of valuing work over everything else. Fussing over cleaning and paperwork and sorting until everything is just a damn fuck it. At least my son doesn't need to wear glasses.
They have picked up on tics particularly around the insane things I say to preclude any event. Any attempt to work out (any physical exertion tbh) at all and you are going to get
Time to do some push ups....X GON' GIVE TO YA!
Want me to bring all the groceries in on trip? UP A FLIGHT OF STAIRS?! HIT ME WITH THAT JAM!
How I made his connection is lost to history. Victim of way to many songs where this is some intro for a big fight or car chase. Because I am horribly out of shape it usuall is something like X GON' GIVE TO YA. I'VE BEEN DOING THIS FOR NINETEEN YEARS AND.....wheeze....blerg....fuck that is enough of that.
This will be jammed before taking the training wheels off the bike. Or jumping into the deep end of the pool.
Here is a secret, dear readers. I am not writing these in alphabetical order. Some of these come much sooner or much easier so they get drafted before say Q. I mention this in case I already mentioned Kate Bush but fuck it because she is amazing and deserves to be mentioned constantly.
Hounds of Love is a witchcraft collection of an album. Something that shouldn't exist because of its ability to summon the ethereal. I recently read the Harry Potter books and whenever veelas show up I imagine Kate Bush playing in the background.
But, the song for this is kind of a cheat. Brief and spooky, spartan with words but loaded with sonic asides. In Under Ice she sneaks in a sonar ping along with submarine chatter, screechy violin, and an overbearing sense of presence. A fog all around you or hoar frost locking up under the skin. This song always make me imagine myself standing out on the ice and staring down into something brewing below it.
After graduating college I I was fortunate enough to secure a job, albeit a part time one. Still this was a rarefied position in the mid 00s. The job was Community Development Coordinator for a small town in upstate New York. It was not a city planning position or anything so lofty but instead a part time liaison between a citizen group and the village government. On paper I was taking over from a single citizen who spent 15 years advocating and fundraising to redo the village's mainstreet to slow down traffic, increase pedestrian accessibility and beautify the area. This is where I first discovered Blogger since I launched a daily update project for the construction.
I was 22 at the time and had many "first job" foibles albeit looking back at it, I am proud of the overall work. Ever read Dr. Seuss's The Lorax? Made me feel like The Once-ler and everyone else was the Lorax. We killed a video store but I sincerely doubt the sustainability of a town of 1500 with TWO video stores in the year 2006. So...I made a few enemies but last time I visited the town still had the personalized bricks and rippled lamp posts and new trees. In the end it was worth it but I did give up on any pretense of living in said town. Maybe citizens feel differently?
However, at the time I got hired I committed to the gig and place. I asked my supervisor, the Village Clerk (What this person does I am not sure. She cut a lot of receipts), for a list of local landlords. Could I rent a place in town and avoid the 30 minute commute by rural bus?
One person who called back? He was a local slumlord who owned a Christmas tree farm and drove around in a vintage sports car the color of Kinko's canary copy paper. Not a mean guy but the place was a dump. An A Frame duplex house, already a Frankenstein beast, split into 5 apartments. Apartment 5 used to be his son's and the junior had left bric a brac and furniture that then became mine. The place had this videogame RPG vibe to it where you open a cupboard and there was an electric hand mixer. Then a plate. A shaving kit bag. Can I turn this junk into something useful?
Place had an emerald green settee style couch with the ornate wooden legs and loops that had to be a RMS Titanic relic. And heat came from a giant (Thing had to be 4 feet wide by 3 feet tall) gas heater in the middle of the living room. A cast iron pot belly heater/oven with none of the charm.
Place was five minutes from village hall so with no commute and the job plateauing to be an ersatz complaint department (Most days were spent waiting for the phone to ring or someone to email the help line) I sat around a fair amount listening to music on my Rhapsody account. And this is how I found Thursday, a screamo suburban band that seemed to acknowledge that with this jam.
Raw lyrics with the "ashes of American flags" and talking about the joined collective moment of 9/11. Another key Thursday song for me is Understanding in a Car Crash which has the ending of a low rumble repetition of "keep crashing this car, over and over. Keep crashing this car, over and over." I think about that a lot. At work. When voting. When responding to an ask from my wife.
I thoroughly enjoyed Hot Hot Heat's Make Up the Breakdown a 2002 album lead by Bandages that I listened to way too often. Every song is a banger! Then the band sort of vanished. For me and also for the zeitgeist albeit they had more albums
Now Talk to Me, Dance to Me is a song about two people coming together. That sounds really wholesome but for me this song, with the cowbell kickoff, is my go to jam for everything
I find two sticks on the ground and want to act silly in front of my daughter. Well, slap those together and then go "You are my only girl, but you're not my owner girl" and repeat.
Are you banging on your steering wheel while waiting for a light? Well..."You are my only girl, but you're not my owner girl"
What is that weird staccato beat in the background? The shrill shriek of a cicada in the tree? Well..."You are my only girl, but you're not my owner girl"
Listen to it and try it! Perfect any song which maybe isn't a great thing? Since it could be filler.
Considering her discography and influence you think I would pick something else but my Madonna album is Ray of Light. Which, considering my penchant for electronic music it makes sense. It also came out at the right time in the summer of 98 when I watched a ton of MTV so any song that came out between 97-99 is just carbon seared into my mind.
Note, I don't enjoy or remember much of Ray of Light except this song and hence the aforementioned and this post.
Power Of Goodbye has it all for me. The moodiness and ethereal sound that permeate your mood and give me these click clack steam punk vibes. This is a song that always felt to me quite wise and a sort of deep cut to love and emotion but instead its just a leftover song at the end of the album.
I lent a guy name Jnani (pronounced Yanni) my sole copy of The Postal Service's Give Up, an album I adore. An album only made better that they never made a follow up even though fans clamor for it. Songs alternate from moody indie jams to then electronic jams you can run on a treadmill. Then the song here the duet Nothing Better
Such poetry in the words as the two former lovers fight. I never went through such a hard breakup so I can't pine for any empathy but I can appreciate the lyrics and situation. Like forget about cellar doors and never more...give more more of "Don't you feed me lies about some idealistic future/Your heart won't heal right if you keep tearing out the sutures"
What a uniquely American tragicomedy as Kanye West. Maybe by the time you are reading this he is President! Or we are all dead. In any case, you cannot deny he is quite talented and imagine if his rambling and "politics" actually had any substance to it. If he stood for anything besides himself then imagine what could happen.
My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy is a desert island album for sure. All those tracks are bangers and all the people he brought together is this lovely and lurid tapestry. From that I regularly draw to Monster as my go-to jam. Here Kanye is more of a producer and you let yourself enjoys rhymes by Jay-Z, Rick Ross, Bon Iver and Nicki Minaj. Amazing how cohesive the thing feels considering each individual piece. All virulent and loud power fantasies.
Consensus is the Nicki Minja verse is best but my personal fav is Jay-Z's what with the horror tropes and the clever use of a sharp inhale right at the end.
Bit of a cheat here. Well not so much but doing this from my phone.
Not much cred in being an Offspring fan. Even during the heyday of Americana and Pretty Fly for a White Guy they felt shallow. But everyone loved them and songs were everywhere. Tony Hawk games. The soundtracks of 90s teen movies. Cmon, guys! Its ok to like Offspring albeit its aged like puma shell necklaces.
But let me introduce you to LAPD from the 1992 Ignition album which sounds very un Offspring. Less performance but equally narrative it was song as timely then and now
https://youtu.be/4XZw-sW6G-Y
I can't name any other songs on Ignition, an album I owned after finding it in an FYE while visiting my sister in Virginia (such rarities never came to PR) but this song is Offspring. Very punk and repeatable with a sincere albeit very blunt message.
Its so easy to shit on Linkin Park even during their heyday. Way too many an awful early Youtube animated music video was set to their music. Anime weeb fiends and girls with blue hair that rang around in cloaks liked Linkin Park. This was the glee club without the shows and recitals. These are people who grew up into 40 somethings who hopefully GOT the point of Fight Club, but probably didn't.
Their first few albums always focused songs on some mysterious and overbearing "you" that was impossible to ID but also became a sort of everyman trouble. Recently the Trump re-election campaign set an ad to "In the End" and the band and most fans were aghast. Like, did those dicks ever listen to a Linkin Park song? I doubt they would back anything GOP. But, its an LP song. It is MADE to be layered over something.
But, that said I un-ironically ADORE Linkin Park and when I heard Chester Bennington died I broke a long standing "don't post on FB" rule to pour out just how I felt.
When Meteora, their second album came out, I skipped Intro to Art History 1 class * to walk the three miles to the local Barnes and Nobles to buy it. And listen all the way back needing to swap out for the fresh AA batteries I brought.
That is a Linkin Park memory...walking. My first ever Linkin Park album was (appropriately so) a remix album I bought at this oddball record store (La Casa de los Tapes or House of Tapes) which was tucked away into the back corner of a Sears appliance store. And I had to have what was playing over the store's stereo which was the Reanimation album. It even has this goofy mech on the cover! They made this in a lab for me!
This song has it all. A remix. A cinematic bombast. Those strings and kick off crooning. And I must have listened to it a dozen times walking back home from that record store. Only album I ever bought twice because I had to have this when I got my car (some nine years after its release) and it has a CD player.
*Where I sat behind a very cute girl named Sivam who I almost went on a date with but I at the same time just started dating the person who would become my wife. This was the one and only time that I had such aplomb with the ladies
Listening to 311 makes me realize I am old. If the crappy back and morning cocktail of pills didn't already do it consider that the album Jack-O-Latern's Weather comes from is pushing 30 years but i began listening with the early 00's Evolver and NOW 311 is a kind of lifestyle Jimmy Buffet style band. I mean there are 311 cruises, beers, and vape mixes. So now it is this oddball party band that seems attractive to the North Florida people Jack Donagahy could never figure out on 30 Rock. And during my listening heyday it was a sort of mainstream stoner band which was odd considering my straight edge tendencies. All that said I never felt like I was allowed to be fan even when this band was in its heyday.
But that sound especially from the earlier albums like the "blue" one. Rap and rock and this very quirky Nebraska reference with a surfer vibe.
Jack-O-Lantern's Weather? Well, that is a walking sound. It is a younger me stomping down some grey chilly street in New York state. Go stomping around in Jack-O-Lanterns' weather. I didn't have a car until the age of 25 so my friends called me the "ultimate pedestrian" And, this was the walking song with your backpack on and Discman jamming
Hey, I try to sound smart in these posts. But, really can't say anything that hasn't been said about Beastie Boys in 40 something years of their music. Except that i am brave enough to say that while yes Paul's Boutique is their best album I ADORED Hello Nasty and the premiere single from it, Intergalactic. The humor and elaborate rhymes which all seemed just for the sake of being. They did this because they could and unlike the Youtube scene to come years later it somehow wasn't grating, cloying, or destructive.
Still an amazing video that checked a lot of my person buttons. I remember making bootleg tape recordings of this album for my friends from the single CD in our group that I oh so happened to own.
The band made a remix of Body Movin, also from the same album, and it was 1) by Fatboy Slim and parodied Diabolik, a 60s Italian crime movie which WAS the final movie parodied on the original MST3K! Like this album was made for me.
Goodness do I love myself some throw away girly pop. Because I am man of honor I stopped listening to Ke$ha once I learned the conditions under which she was forced to record "Your Love is My Drug"* but Demi Lovato is my girl.
And, double goodness is this song super cringey even if I wasn't an overweight guy on the Internet. Like, guys, I'm getting a bit flustered and its not because of this song's pure power. Make me wanna wash my hair and bounce them like a basketball. I think you can hear the teeth grinding over the modem.
This song evokes a certain memory of playing Batman: Arkham City. Stick with me, ok? I mean you are reading this blog so you have to be patient. All those Arkham games have this rhythm style combat where you need to mash buttons at certain times and in combinations to dodge attacks and counter enemies. The more you do this the faster the combat goes but the harder you hit. Its tricky to describe without experiencing it but it is immensely satisfying to chain a series of successful inputs into breaking 40 guys in half. And Demi's Heart Attack was in the background the first (and only time) I ever got a 50 combo, a frustrating achievement to secure (at least for me. I am sure i will get bombed by "Get good" comments**) but memorable. And considering this song has a build up into a drop I can imagine it being Batman's boot dropping right into someone's jaw at that moment.
*Would be Y in the ABC. If that dissapoints you (and it does me, to be honest) then remember she was literally tortured during that time of her life And the guy got away with it!
**Or not considering the sole Ukrainian national who reads this may be a real nice guy who says "Great job" But, you know, in Ukrainian.
Write out La Oreja de Van Gogh's Geografia's lyrics and well its going to hurt. Especially if you translate them into English. Major cringe factor akin to that time in the 90s when commercials and shows THOUGHT they knew what rapping meant and had everyone try and spit fire.
I had never seen the vidoe before this and it also makes no sense. For a song that is all about intimacy, its folks having a big jazzy street jam.
I shouldn't be so derisive. I like this song! The lyrics are quite poetic but typing them out...trust me they sound better in Spanish. I mean...
I would like to start a country with you. So words like motherland, flag, nation, border, race or destiny would make sense to me
OR
I would love if our country had, a huge arsenal of cuddles under the sea
OR
Give me your hand so we can take this boat celebrating with a kiss the day that is today
Written out like that they are anime ending song lyrics that make no sense. Cringe factor 100%. Once, I tried to flirt with a girl by asking what color her underwear was and I didn't cringe as much then. Really feel it in your stomach as it falls out.
It sounds better for sure. Don't let any this discourage you from giving a list And even if you can't speak Spanish there is a neat spicy guitar.
No one reads these posts but based on the few metrics I have seen I can tell they are either somewhere in the US and/or Ukraine. I am going to be they may not be a Spanish speaker albeit that is quite an assumption considering how common its in the US. And what do I know about Ukraine?
But, I like to think that anyone reading this assumes any Spanish tracks I have are super deep obscure cuts. Stuff you need to listen to while sitting pointing in a westward direction. And not the "rock en español" version of Aerosmith's Crazy.
This song dropped like a bomb in late elementary school with the bluesy twang and lyrical jamming.
By now, it is fairly quaint and schmaltzy, something your parents listened to. In my case it was my paternal grandfather trying to mimic the chorus but in a low awkward echo. Imagine a 70 year old woman just repeating the words of your favorite song 4 solid seconds after the singer has sung. That was La Flaca by Jarabe de Palo.
Did you think I have taste? I am a guy who writes a blog no one reads where I elaborate on the shoulder fins of mecha and talk about Nic Cage's Firebirds for fun. A favorite food of mine was tacos de sal which is where I would heat up a flour tortilla in a pan with butter and salt. I only stopped because my doctor told me it was hell for my A1C not because I became suddenly that much more erudite.
All that said, here is a cover song which I enjoy much more than the original. Lorde's cover of Tear for Fear's Everybody Rules the World just has that cinematic feel to it. Could this song be a trailer to something? Could it play as you walk into some big work meeting right in front of the board of directors. Does a beat drop before some big boom? Put that right into my ears, please!
No slander to the original which endures for good reasons beyond it is a great song to jam into any villain reveal. These sound like totally different songs with very different feels. The OG one is a court jester poking fun and tilting the king while the Lorde version is actually leading the king to the guillotine
And I much prefer Pale Shelter by Tears for Fears anyway, which could have been P in the ABC but just blew my shot right here, right now.
Libraries re-opened recently so I got the fourth book and the work keeps on going.
***Spoilers down below***
I appreciate that this book begins with something that isn't Harry at the Durnsleys. We are four books in and we are doing something different beyond re-hashing the start. That scene does make Voldemort seem appropriately sinister where to me, the aforementioned four books in, he has come off as kind of a big nothing.
Oh well second chapter keeps the tradition going so nevermind.
I think it is silly that Harry never gave the Weasleys some kind of money considering he is loaded. I know we get a throw away line that "they would never accept it" but doesn't feel earned or truthful.
In the absence of Voldemort is there any evil in the Wizard World. Beyond being a villain he seems to be THE SOURCE of all conflict in the magical world. Like if Voldemort never existed the biggest villains would be Draco's sneer and like the pranks of the Weasley bros?
I enjoyed the spat between Harry and Ron over Ron's very legitimate feelings of being overlooked. I think his own mother loves Harry more so yeah I would be a bit peeved. Sure, should have listened to your pal and assume he is being truthful but don't blame you for feeling raw about those, my boy Ron.
Four books in I care very little about Harry but want more and more of this world. The other Wizarding schools. The cup. The interactions with the Muggle word. With that said, I really liked Cedric Diggory what with his nobility and good lucks and acumen. So, of course he fucking dies. Some serious Duncan Idaho from Dune vibes right there save they brought Idaho back from the dead in Dune because why not bring back the charming, sexy, talented guy? Man, that irks me. But, at least he gets a decent send off. An office crush told me once I should be sorted in Hufflepuff and maybe I should have because feel so bad for this short lived hero.
On that, I appreciate how that house gets a bit more elaboration but what does Ravenclaw do? And their logo is an eagle!? BUT THE NAME RAVEN IS RIGHT THERE!
This books is way too long even with the above stated. It picks up with the Voldemort reveal scene, which DOES feel very earned and foreboding.
I will admit skimming the inevitable villain exposition at the end because these are some complicated 9th degree 3D chess convolutions and the get foiled because Harry is lucky. There are several deus ex machinas here. The one with Harry in the duel is lovely as he coaxes the ghosts of eveyrone Voldermort has killed to protect him but HE DOESN'T DO ANYTHING! It just happens....because it needs to happen! Then the reason is a quirk in wand design. Not because he is pure of heart but because of WAND DESIGN. At least pure of heart would jive better with the epic quest aspect.
The Moody/Barty Crouch sub villain plot is also a Byzantine pretzel of "umm...oks." At first I thought it was going to be this kind of Starscream inspired plot where a henchmen kills the hero to get the one up on the main villain (For a Star Wars analogy kind of like Darth Maul to Vader in all the recent canon) but instead it was all part of the plan! As well!
The last chapter is called "The Beginning." How many more of these books are there?
Knowing that the senior Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle families are indeed evil are their kids also evil? Because at the end if it is pretty frank Draco is saying Harry is going to die now that Voldemort is back.
Reading this book 20 years after its initial printing none of these questions are new or fresh and yeah it would have been fun to argue over these in 10th grade. THis is me putting to paper my first sense of FOMO for not catching the bug earlier combined with the fact JK Rowling has transfigured into an insane toxic monster. At least, I was on the Dune train WAY back when before the movie comes out in December. If it does, that is. Here comes more FOMO
As you read these you will notice much of the choice center around transportation. And reveries set to these little soundtracks. I rarely want to be where I actually am. These jams make everything feel that much more heroic or, at minimum, satisfying. And Disintegration, particularly the instrumental crescendo around 4 minutes in, is pure daydream centered around my "women with swords" penchant. I once told someone (at a much younger and dumber age) that I sometimes fantasized about her fighting others in our share sphere and she responded "That's Ok. I know I kick a lot of ass in them." Bullet dodged and nothing beyond that mere exchange but this is that jam. Note this song is far from it. Its about drugs, addiction, and a broken relationship bust listen to it and imagine yourself stepping into any errand or meeting ready to absolutely win.
To wrap up...this whole bit could be mostly Jimmy Eat World songs but this is the one. And its a fairly "deep track" of their considering it is one random EP record from the mid 00s. The song got played on a One Tree Hill episode which is a show, like my attempt at veganism, I tried to watch to impress a girl, but when you hear it people will often say "Oh, like on OTH!" And if you only knowm Jimmy Eat World from "The Middle" then too bad for you. That song is awful and means nothing, which makes sense why it became such a hit.
Don't know enough about "rock en español" to compare Cafe TaCvba (Not a typo. It is like the U in Chvrches, another neat band. Name is pronounced Cafe TA Cuba) but they have been around forever and changed their sound. Re, the album El Ciclon is on, is the Fleetwod Mac's Rumors of the "rock en español." Every kid had it and every song is a banger. El ciclon is not as manic as others but it has that great nasal rap chord jam and poetic lyrics in which the assert God is female something I never noticed until this re-listen.
What does this remind me of? These seemingly enter summer long weekend trips to family friends in Guanica, a sleep town in an already drowsy part of the island best known for being the point where the US invaded in 1898 Spanish-American War.* At this point the island's edge loops and pits into endless rocky crags and isolated peninsulas surrounded by mangroves and dry rain forest. Here was Gloria's house with the huge indoor courtyard landscaped with hills and snake plants. She was later murdered, found stuffed in a bag miles away. And also Playa Santa where at the end of the bay someone had mounted a concrete Virgin Marry statute into a rocky alcove. Edi and Mundito's house where they kept the washing machine outside and had a pomegranate tree. The third Die Hard movie and Batman Forever.
*This make it sounds MUCH more involved then it actually was. More happened in the background of wherever you are reading this post than what happened in Puerto Rico during the Spanish American War.
I am beyond sorry but it has to be Baby Got Back by Sir Mix A Lot. Only true lewd song on here. But it was beyond impressive if in the 6th grade if you knew EVERY damn word to this song and yes, your boy here got there. It almost topped Gangsta Paradise. Something I repeated in high school with Clint Eastwood by Gorillaz.
This song once came on the car radio and both kids in the back screamed it was a nasty song. "ITS ABOUT BUTTS!? WHAT?!"
Every so often something will go viral on Twitter where you need to share some sort of cryptic album.
Show your favorite albums from the year you turned 18
In one gif describe the perfect movie
With one image describe your childhood crush
I am a sucker for these because I have a a deep desire to connect with folks, which is quite counter to my introverted nature. But, engage from a distance like the 240 characters of Twitter. Or a reply chain in the workplace Slack. Actually, talk to someone in person?! Oh, I am not that brave.
Ill answer those online surveys but like much on Twitter I am shouting into a void. Pornbots don't read and if you don't get likes does it exists? Beyond being something incriminating later for a potential employer to find.
"Im sorry, you said that you unironically liked Smash Mouth in 1998. That is not Hexaco material. Sorry"
Its all kind of boring. Which is why i type on the blog. Biggest fear is someone will find this and say "Hey, it is that guy from college! Or work! Look at this shit he typed!"
But, its all boring. Some colleague will find it and decide they could spend their time better reading a Buzzfeed listicle.
It exists for the record so here is a longer meme on songs/bands you like. One for every letter in your name, but made longer. One for every letter in the alphabet because I need content. Maybe this series will help you profess your deep seeded love for me? Or galvanize your disdain? These are hate reads, right? Or, give you something to read while sipping coffee.
I haven't listened to much Weird Al in the last 20 years but from about 6th to 9th grade, damn was he my jam. Like, I knew the words to Albuquerque from Bad Hair Day and The Night Santa Went Crazy.
I bet kids no longer do this (or maybe it was isolated to my little slice of 6th grade) but what gave you major cred was knowing the lyrics to songs. If you had liner notes from a CD then you were invited to all the parties!*
If you knew the words to Coolio's Gangsta Paradise then you were a god. There were other songs that could get you there but few things could top that. If at all.
I had a rich friend in the 6th grade who stood up in the middle of homeroom and declared that for his birthday he would take everyone in the grade to El Conquistador, a huge resort in Fajardo on the other side of the island. And he would take everyone in a fleet of limos.
When this hit the 6th grade coconut line and everyone told their moms that "hey this was happening and yo, where is my swimsuit?"
The following day, this friend, well he had to walk that back and say he could only take a few friends but, hey, I was one! And we listened to a tape of Gangsta's Paradise endlessly for the one hour drive there. So, effectively rewinding track 1 of the Dangerous Minds soundtrack.
I could never get to that level but I memorized all the words to Amish Paradise which didn't impress anyone until the intern at my warehouse job became the new manager and he was also a Weird Al fanatic. But, a true one that still goes to concerts. More power to him.
*The Ace of Base song The Sign caused a war in the 6th grade with the debate of whether it was The Sign or The Sun. No one had the liner notes. And we had some LOADED people at the school. "The name of the song is...The Sign," once said a coworker to me upon telling them this story. 'Didn't you guys realize that from the title?" It was a simpler time.
Holy shit why didn't anyone tell me this group existed?! I only learned about them in the summer of 2020 when everything was going to shit and this came on the Sirius alternative station.
There is not one single bad verse or rhyme. Pure blue cold fire. There are just two human beings in their 40s just producing scintillating energy. Their rhymes are like excellent movies. Something you can listen to and hear something new each time. A new scratch. A different inflection in the rhyme. It is the Into The Spiderverse of rap music. It cannot be in the background while you just mindlessly file papers or play Halo or NBA 2K.
My favorite is Walking in the Snow which I think perfectly condenses their engaging hooks and elaborate rhymes combined with collaboration and production values. If, like me, you discovered them in 2020 then it is the sound of moment. Also, how incredibly badass is the line "Just got done walking in the snow, goddamn that mother fucker cold"
Dear readers, you know I am going to try and jam this into a work email or something.
"Hey guys I just got done walking in the snow
Oh geeze this guy must be cold
Hey yo you in the wrong mode if you think
you can get paid with no PO
This whole world is set by masters far removed
So don't feel bad when you come back used"
Oh and that logo with the one fist making the gun and the other making the hand (supposeldy clenching a chain)? Yo, put that on the front of a shield because I will go to battle with that as my crest.
Along the shale river rock of a Great Lake stream, I marveled when i saw a humble suttuer and grate into a hole in the ground. Dont they live in hives? A notch in a tree?
No, apparently not. They burrow.
I am glad I witnessed this for it prepared me to find bumblebees in my basement. Drowning themselves in the spare bathrooms toilet. Or turning into husks as they try to head butt through the window blocks.
Where are they coming from? The dryer exhaust? The PVC ventilation for the furnace? Or its a crack in the foundation. On my neighbors side where they edge everyday for stark lines against their opponents driveway.
Its unnerving seeing a dead bumblebee in my basement by the derby trophy and stack of Inquest magazines. Its the whale and bowl of flowers from Hitchhiker's Guide. How did it get here? It has to be a sad story.
On a lark I got a trial subscription to Quibi, the wonky perpetually doomed phone only streaming service. You only need a casual glance through the news to find all the foibles with Quibi most pointedly a Vulture piece. The one thing I will add is that whatever Quibi is/was (If maybe you are reading this in the future. OR THE PAST?! HOW DOES THAT WORK) it was made be people who never heard the word no. This fills no gap in the media landscape so unless you appreciate the sheer novelty (or love Reno 911!) I do not suggest going past the two weeks of your trial.
Sometimes restrictions breed creativity. I imagine the little 10 minute segment and scheduled cuts and "just your phone format" could make for some neat ideas. If anyone does that on Quibi I haven't found it yet. Instead these all feel like the kind of shows OTHER shows would make up to parody. Imagine if someone made the movies from the fake trailers in Tropic Thunder but then the chopped up into 10 minute segments you can only see on your phone!
I didn't watch every show on Quibi (I only had 14 days) but here are my hot takes on what I tried
50 States of Fright
This is a big one. 50 stories, one from each state about a chilling terror tale. That has some potential. Mothman for West Virginia! Jersey Devil for NJ. Some cowboy and natives stuff for Texas and Oklahoma. And, first episode of it is directed by Sam Raimi! One thing about Quibi is they GOT some big names.
And, its pretty much just the same sort of stuff you see on dramatic recreations on Unsolved Mysteries. Generic urban ghost story stuff. First one is a Michigan story and nothing of it to me feels representative of Michigan. Hell, It Follows is set in Detroit and that FEELS more Michigan and Great Lakes then this.
Now, this story is broken up into three 10 minute episodes. So The Golden Arm Part 1. Golden Arm Part 2, etc.
WHY CANT THIS JUST BE ONE 30 MINUTE SHOW!? THEY JUST TOOK A MINI MOVIE AND BROKE IT INTO 3 PIECES FOR MAXIMUM QUIBI EFFECT!
That's some BS Quibi. Its like when Panera folds over your piece of turkey over 20 times so it looks like hot damn I am getting this massive club sandwich but no it is just one piece folder over enough times to double as a ladder!
Agua Donkeys
Quibi describes this show as deadpan. Which is code for "not funny." Skip this. The premise is also bonkers as this shitty tiny pool some how merits enough staff for attempts at an Office style shtick.
Vox Answered
Oh, cmon! These are just those short "Now This" videos you see on Facebook or Twitter except there are no words so you can read it while pooping in the stall at work. That way no one knows you are watching videos while pooping on company time. The one I saw was "Why Am I Seeing More Rats?" I feel dumber for watching this.
60 in 6
There was a time when 60 Minutes was must see TV for me. Note that was also a time when all I had a was 13 inch TV and a so basic it should be called primitive cable connection that just got me 12 channel and then History and AE illegally and with wonky Max Headroom distortion. But, I love that intro
I''m Lesley Stahl
I'm Morley Shaffer
I'm Anderson Cooper on Assignment
This and Andy Rooney on 60 Minutes
You would watch it just for Andy and his original master ranter
That is what Quibi needs. Just stream those Andy Rooney bits. I would PAY for that
This show? Its shortened versions of what would make for larger and better true 60 Minutes bits. Fine, but we would benefit from taking MORE time with news
Flipped
This one is OK. Kaitlin Olson and Will Forte are failed narcissists who end up remodeling houses for a drug cartel.It has a Triangle Waist and Shirt Coat Factory fire joke! Children of the fire! Even passable nothing in the Quibi format lends any strengths to this. Make a couple of 30 minute episodes! Then its just an OK show as the least smelly turd on Quibi
Memory Hole
Ok, this one I liked but its checks a lot of boxes for me.
Will Arnett hosts it and I appreciate how he has committed to just channeling Gob Bluth 24/7 now.
Pokes fun at old and obscure pop culture. For someone who has very early Internet memories around SeanBaby, Agony Booth, and Good Bad Flicks this is my comfort food.
Has some funny bits and demands attention like MST3K. The phrases "North Korean Jubilee" and "Robin Thicke as a horny Bettlejuice" have entered the lexicon.
The show is very Canadian. Not in a Kids in the Hall Way or Degrassi way. But in that is directly references it. In the PSA episode Will Arnett mentions "Canada had no big PSAs" and in the workout video episode his brief sketch is a Canadian themed workout video. One episode is all about a Canadian televised stadium show for the debut of SkyDome which WAS insane but that pitch is way to narrow. This wanted to plant its flag up north but alas no. Maybe it was pitched to the CBC and they were "Fuck no. Get out of her and take this shit to Quibi or maybe that guy who makes shadow puppets outside the drugstore."
And the irony on Quibi likely getting a Memory Hole treatment in 30 years. Well that is chef's kiss.
I know the Princess Bride: Home Movie is the big get for Quibi but not going to lie I never got too hyped for that movie. Its good but, well, you read this blog and know what I want to get my nerd jam on. And, that is horrible phrasing. I am sorry.
If you come to this blog for advice then I, again, am sorry but when it comes to Quibi I suggest avoiding. Or get the free trial and jam everything in two days because no joke you can do that.
I took an Benadryl to counteract a surprise allergy attack that popped up in the evening. I live in a death trap of cats and dust mites that is only kept at bay by a cocktail of prescriptions. Four pills and a puff to make sure I don't wake up wheezing and sweaty. Perhaps that pill was related to this sequence.
I dreamed that me, a co worker, the boyfriend of some yoga teacher I follow on Instagram, and then a random Spanish man all had to go to a Magic the Gathering tournament. And we were in one of those nameless cities from bad movies. All brutal concrete and Geo Metros. But I messed up and we came at the wrong day so, in a dream wipe, ended up at Townhall restaurant, a place infamous in Cleveland for being run by a litigious and racist jerk off owner. Disgusted by ourselves we then snuck over to a children's hospital where we had to steal a pillow from the second floor. It was an open air hospital with green courtyards framed by mossy paver paths. It reminded me a hospital I visited in Nicaragua or my own elementary school where at any moment the outside world could vine in through the steel shutter windows. Here were were joined by the tall gym teacher from my school and my father in law. They helped us weave through a shanty town built over a swamp that abutted the hospital and towards a highway which is when I woke up.
In what little power my position offers, I got to choose my daughter's kindergarten teacher today. This is a small but powerful luxury i used on my son to great effect. Setting up my daughter to succeed!
Note my position offers an overwhelming amount of accountability with little ability to influence said execution of it. The gig is herding dozens of ball kicking cats in a "hurry up and wait" fashion. I'm writing the rule book while also simultaneously finding exceptions to it. This makes me think that is what being a Congressperson must feel like. Except those prices get kick backs. Insider trading tips and the Capitol Hill barber. I get to choose from the Group of educators who will be subject to the now quadruple awkward exchanges.
"Hey, your kid bit me."
Whelp. That is awkward. I'm sorry. So so sorry.
"Hey, I caught your staring at my ass at the copier. While making a worksheet. For your kid."
At this point I want to die. If it helps I think you are super cute from any angle. Ok, that did not help.
"Hey, where is my reimbursement for those notebooks. Or why didn't the custodian cleanup the dust under my desk. Or..."
Ok, here I can get a bit defensive. You know that the receipt was late and...nope now I feel awful and awkward and small. Fire me. Well, ill fire myself after you suggest I should. Just be nice to my kid. Or, just be fair. You are all pro, yes?
Its the "my kid" That makes everything sunburn tickling your shirt tags uncomfortable. Not just random strangers but a spider web network or concentric layers. A goofy vent diagram where the person utterly paralyzed to have any of these talks is a flat circle with me in the middle.
I have a repeating dream where my daughter slips from a dock or a boat and then slithers down into the water, bubbles trailing above. The action is sudden and scene snapping with no warning. Just a soft slip and silky splash. Sometimes the water is green like a pond in name only with underwater fronds and sometimes it is black and cosmically deep. There is no sense of panic or calamity in the dream. I wake up and she is still in the house sometimes sleeping and sometimes awake but always dry
Netflix has a new show called Floor is Lava and while everyone spent this holiday weekend watching Hamilton, I rewatched the aforementioned.
Give it a try! Don't be a snob. You already saw Hamilton so give Lava a try. The premise is simple...its an obstacle course game show where you have to cross a themed room (like a bedroom or planetarium) and the floor is dyed water made to bubble and foam like cartoon lava. Teams of 2 to 3 people try to clamber over there and fastest and/or most survivors wins.
Its writer strike fair. Or the kind of stuff Netflix gobbles up to see what sticks but has that infectious game show vibe for the whole family. How would you leap from couch to couch? Maybe if you scream louder the people will actually hear you and realize they need the key in the pizza oven to open the extension on the dining room table. How would your family fare? Coworkers? I would certainly die in the first leap.
And when you fall into the drink the show edits it as if you don't come back. Just slip into the lava and gone. Nice touch when really it is probably 3 feet deep in there.
The show needs decidedly unfit people. Sure that is in the casting call. Physically fit people because not everyone on the show is some hardcopy but everyone is active. One contestant boast she can do yoga on a stand up paddelboard. Like, so what? I can eat a crunch wrap in the car without spilling any of it
Fastest time? A pair of rock climbers. Oh, look at that!
No, show needs the "real" America. Needs people like
Those guys who say they could beat Serena Williams at tennis. Honestly, any of the guys who respond with "make me a sandwich" gags to any news concerning a female athlete.
Uncle Rico from Napoleon Dynamite types. See also Al Bundys.
Almost served guys who had an uncle in the service so that kind of counts, right?
Your gym teacher
An assortment of people with just annoying enough conditions to make sure they bounce right off the damn pyramid and into the lava. People with bursitis, extra dry skin, and/or restless leg syndrome.
All these would make fine additions. Just have your team name handy.
Its writing prompt time! The last few posts have seen readers of 3! Three people reading the posts. One even had 4 people. Which means you can't all be Russian porn/disinformation bots!* Maybe it is my wife because she is so proud of me! Or, my co-workers who think I am so hilarious! Or, strangers lead here because they went to the SECOND page of Google results and this came up when you searched "bad takes" or "work crush" or "an essay on the Nick Cage file Fire Birds."
I turned the page and honestly got a prompt about vampires. I do not like vampires and there is already way too much purple prose on them so I batted my eyes to the next page and saw "A man falls asleep under a fruit tree. He wakes up to hear a hissing sound and he sees..."
Nelson had this horrible habit of falling in love with people on the Internet. The response to the pandemic only heightened this since there was nothing to do but consume. He found whimsy in the cutesy energy of the Tiny Kitchen Instagram account and how they made omelets for gnomes with quail eggs. And saving memes from all the subs and mains of Reddit to show friends and coworkers for the expected time everything would go back to normal. With podcasts he imagined how the casters looked and would then compare and contrast them to his expectations. And he had fallen in love with a single mom casting about living her life during the pandemic. Dana and the Distant But Close Mom Hour. She worked from home but she also had two toddlers so how do you manage that. And she had this struggle to balance between "Internet basic" and "woke" so one cast was about crafting tips and the other an interview with the ED of the LGBTQ center in Gordon Square.
And in one casts, deep into the endless May of the pandemic, she sounded beyond defeated. It was posted at 2am and he got the alert and listened and it sounded like she was broadcasting from under a blanket with a stuffy nose and a sleeve of cookies next to her. It was a nadir of a cast to purge negative feelings of trying to do it all. "I hate my sourdough starter, everyone. I don't need another living thing judging me and telling me, no showing me, how i fail it. I made crackers with it, folks."
Nelson's heart broke. He had found her on Facebook (He hated spending more time on it but what else was there to do) and imagined Dana without glasses, hair in a messy bun, and just hurt during that cast. He couldn't do anything but he ordered some books through her affiliate link and made sure to watch all the ads on the Youtube channel where she uploaded those version of her podcasts.
He tried his hand at the bread baking. He would comment "Hey I tried your sourdough starter and it worked. Hang in there!"
It was a little monster. Feeding every day and rising and falling as the bubbles grew. Nelson went to an ornamental cherry tree he had in his yard. Another Twitter thread said you could catch more wild yeast that way. From under fruit trees and bushes. So he stretched muslin (Really an old paint towel) over the top and went under the cherry. There he read books never read from high school, reminded why he never cracked Crime and Punishment. Under the tree he feel asleep in the early June muggy heat. He had a dream where he imagined Dana, pushing back her Rivers Cuomo style glasses, and speaking into a radio mic like some ancient USO show that was interrupted by the shrill long coos of a catbird. Then it began crapping on him. A cold stream of bird diarrhea over his legs after he scrambled out of the way to miss crap hitting his head. In the panic he knocked over the sourdough starter. The wild active yeast glombed into the dirt and poured out through the frail muslin fiber. Then he channeled Dana, simply giving up, letting it feed the birds so as to not have judgments.
* With the election coming in 4 months I assume some guy in Vladivostok flipped the switch on the server to do both
I've been dreaming often about work. You tell people that and they immediately jump to the salacious. Its why you don't tell someone that.
"Oh, hey. I had a dream last night and you were in it!" Seems so innocent but unless you have an eternal bond then it can be wild. That person has to be thinking, while they smile awkwardly or pretend not to be paying too much attention, "So is this a sex thing? Or a violence thing? Or both!?"
No, none of those. We are tainted by media that tells us dreams are true running sagas when they have the consistency of blown cigar smoke rings. Very cool in the moment but gone immediately. All the ethereal metaphors. Sand through your hands. That sudden boost of confidence when the perfect put back pops up. The sight line of dandelion seeds before they melt into the grass. All just melts away. I call shenanigans on seasons of TV shows where "it was all just a dream." I saw a brutal tweet where imagine, after all the Harry Potter books*, it just ended with him waking back up in the cupboard under the stairs. All just a dream!
So, no. I don't have enough dream time to come up with a dream where I fantasize fantasize. Or playing some revenge fantasy. Instead they are images or brief moments that maybe get strung along into something cohesive with enough power to bother the hell out of me when I wake up and it is gone. "Fuck, that was a good one. I think."
It's a ton of "I thinks."
I've dreamt of boxes, an old dream to be truthful. But, while at my last job it was boxes falling in Tetris waves, now it is me having to open boxes. Endless ones in endless sizes. Shoe boxes and monster 24" inch ones. A whole damn gaylord box. Some triple wrapped in tape at each corner and others about to collapse. The contents doesn't matter. All opening and then carrying them to the dumpster. Here everything tumbles and gets caught beneath my feet so I wake up falling.
Ive dreamt about my boss. Needing an answer but she is an image on a monitor and she just smiles and twirls her hair. Then I wake up with no answer.
Moldy books that cough back spores. Here is a copy of "The Kids Guide to Video Production**" and I open it up to a mycology bomb. What the fuck! Ack!
I learned a coworker is into kung-fu so I had a dream where they are in one of those martial arts outfits. The white ones with the belt. And they are working in that as if this is a 70's kung fu grindhouse movie. The kind WuTang clan writes songs about. At the copier ready for a crane kick, I guess.
Lots of images of hair, like the pages of those salon books. But just flashes that remind me of coworkers. This is credit to a penchant to write up endless to do lists. I list them on Post it Notes and then cross them off while the edges curl from being rubbed by my wrists as I type on my laptop. These are the things I need to do. For these people. But it is the same people who cycle.
I don't want these the ephemerate so I am going to jot them down even if they are in bits and pieces.
*Loyal readers will note I still have not finished the series as finding the 4th book has been tricky to get used/free as to not support Rowling. We will get there!
**Copyright 1991. This kid's school and/or parents had a lot of blank VHS tapes.
