Friday, January 28, 2005
Am I the only person who's not swept away by the latest Bright Eyes releases? I mean, they're ok, but they're not anything close to "an American masterpiece." It's not like he's doing anything original...folk? Throw a mandolin on it? Brilliant! I even prefer the elctro-album to the folk one. The story at the beginning of the first folk song? I nearly threw up. Spare me the fake dramatics, Conor. Reminded me of the endless car ride clip at the beginning of "Lifted" that almost made me never listen to that disc again. (although I would have missed "From a Balance Beam, the true genius track on there.) I think people were so inundated with propaganda saying that this was going to be amazing that they're afraid to speak out. I am not. I've had these records for 2 months, and I've been hoping that they would grow on me so I could fit in, but they haven't. Kids, bright eyes is not the savior of music. Bright Eyes isn't even our generations Elliott Smith. Quit giving him God status.
I know, I know, listen to the lyrics. I try, but all I hear is nasal whine, nasal whine. Perhaps this guy is like Dylan...as Mitch said, "There hasn't been a Dylan song that hasn't improved when someone else records it."
So, I think the thing here is we need a Bright Eyes cover album.
Someone get Dave Matthews on this.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
So Sara gets to direct the children's choir at church back in SA, and it got me thinking....I really want to direct a children's choir. And it wouldn't be one of those crappy ones that I was in as a kid, where we sang those stupid "unity" songs and the freaking theme to the "Rainbow Connection," you know, the Muppet movie. And we had to wear matching pastel colored shirts. And I had a little kid crush on the girl who stood next to me (since we all sang the same pitch) and she totally ignored me. It was a generally horrible experience now that I think about it. So without further ado, I give you the songs I would have my children's choir sing:
- "I Can't Get No (Satisfaction)" - as performed by the Rolling Stones
- "Higher Ground" - as performed by Stevie Wonder
- "Just What I Needed" - as performed by the Cars
- "Debaser" - as performed by the Pixies
- "Olsen Olsen" - as performed by Sigur Ros
- "Closing Time" - as performed by Semisonic
- "The Seed 2.0" - as performed by the Roots
- "Revolution Blues" - as performed by Neil Young
- "The Stars are Projectors" - as performed by Modest Mouse (this would be the long, challenging piece where everyone would be all like "man, this guy is a genius!")
- "I Don't Believe You" - as performed by The Magnetic Fields
- "Bille Jean" - as performed by Michael Jackson (this would be the encore).
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
I think I have reached a new all-time low in terms of intellectual capacity.
I was reading the headlines on Yahoo! News and I saw a line that said "Paris gets Holocaust memorial" and I immediately thought, "Paris Hilton is getting a memorial?!"
Sigh. Curse you, pop culture and your sex tapes.
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
What am I listening to the most these days? Well let's check the iTunes Top 25 Most Played list!
(shortened to the top 10)
1. I Don't Believe You - The Magnetic Fields
2. Banquet - Bloc Party
3. Race For the Prize - The Flaming Lips
4. How To Be Dead - Snow Patrol
5. Freddie Freeloader - Miles Davis
6. Hustle Rose - Metric
7. All Falls Down - Kanye West
8. The Rat - The Walkmen
9. Nightswimming - R.E.M.
10. Chief Inspector Blancheflower - The Fiery Furnaces
Monday, January 10, 2005
Saturday, January 08, 2005
Friday, January 07, 2005
My buddy Jon Alaniz stopped by on his way up to Lynchburg College yesterday and spent the night (more of you should do this). I gave him a tour of what I know of Columbia, culminating with a stop at Wal-Mart. It was at said Wal-Mart that we found the best redneck product ever made: Knock-off UnderArmor...camoflauge knock-off UnderArmor. So, when you're out running through the woods chasing deer like a manly-man, you can feel dry and cool with moisture wicking material that just happens to double as camo. Wow. Except, you know, most hunters just sit in a blind and feed corn to the deer and then shoot them. I guess it gets rough sitting in the same spot for hours. Some sport.
I have seen the TV show "The Parkers" three times in my life. Everytime I have happened to watch it, it has been the same episode. It has the fat mother taking over the church choir, and then the fat daughter tricks fat mom to go see OukKast and misses choir rehersal. Fat mom finds out, gets mad and kicks daughter out of choir. Then the preacher begs fat mom to let fat daughter back into the choir because the choir sucks without her. Fat mom relents. Everyone is happy.
Now, I know what you're thinking.
"Eric, you should have changed the channel the first time that show ever came on."
And you'd be right, but I can't change what happened.
I mean, I think it's destiny. The first time, well, that can happen to anyone. The second time, that's just a freaky coincidence, but the third time? I felt obligated to watch it. Like the episode had become a part of me. You don't just turn your back on things like that, you have to embrace it. And I have. But if it happens a fourth time...I'm not watching TV ever again.
Why did I just tell you this? I dunno, I'm in the mood for damaging admissions. I think it started with Sarah McLaughlin.
btw, I love ginger green tea. Feel free to buy me some.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
I was flipping channels on the TV, and I ran across a Sarah McLaughlin concert. Now it's not the fact that I didn't change the channel that I am ashamed of. It's the fact that during the hour long program I knew a surprising number of the songs. Like more than half. And Lord help me, I was singing along to "Adia" for the first verse before I caught myself. My indie cred has been beaten to a pulp.
I found the Columbia hipster hangout. It's the coffee shop I'd been avoiding on West 7th, House Blend. I gathered up the courage to go there today, and I was pleasently surprised. I ordered a cappucino and sat there and read "Dr. Zhivago," which I hope I can finish before I have to get back to school. It's quite good.
Jon A is comming to town tomorrow. Must remember all the stupid jokes now...think, Eric, think!
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
I want a constitutional amendment banning the use of "punkrockprincess," or any derivative form such as "punkrawkprincess" or "XxxpunkrockprincessxxX", from ever being used to describe someone's online persona. There's absolutely nothing "punk" or "rock" about being a princess, nor is there anything princessy about punk rock...or whatever it is these days...you kids and what you think passes for punk...I'm so old.
Shrek 2 is one of the funniest movies I've seen in a long time. I haven't even seen the original Shrek, but now I feel the need to. There's one scene in Shrek 2 that perfectly describes my experience in Boston a couple years ago...the giant Gingerbread man attacks one Starbucks and everyone runs out of it and into another Starbucks that is right across the street. Seriously, there were Starbucks on opposite street corners. From that I concluded that people who live in Boston are too lazy to cross a street, and ergo, I didn't go to Harvard.
J/K. They said something about not being Asian...I dunno. Andrea Cardinal?
I did it. I finally ate at the Catfish Campus. It had been taunting me from the side of James Campbell Blvd. for months now. At first I was too shocked to ever believe that it really existed. I mean, were they serious? Could they honestly call a restaurant the Catfish Campus...and what could be so Delightfully Different about it?
I finally built up the nerve and went to it today. For all my acquired redneck behaviors and mannerisms, nothing could have prepared me for this. I know I'm getting up there in years, but I was the youngest person in there by a good 40 years. No one told me eating catfish was reserved for the AARP. So I sit down, and the old woman in the far corner is staring at me (maybe I'm just paranoid, but this is a reoccuring theme in this town...I think I need a haircut). The waitress is nice, and I order the 3 Fillet Dinner, with fries and "slaw." I didn't know you could seperate "cole" and "slaw" but hey, I'm ignorant. Ok, to be honest, the meal and establishment within itself was nothing remarkable or bad. I think it's a Southern thing, and though I'm from the "South", the Texas "South" is nothing like the real, civil war re-enacting "South," there was nothing really special about catfish...give me salmon any day.
Anyways, remember the old woman in the corner? So she gets up and starts walking towards my table, and as I have conditioned myself to do, I stare at my coffee cup and try to look as uninterested in her presence as humanly possible. What she said next, I have no clue, but it sounded like this:
I look up. I have a horrified look on my face. Now, let me describe this woman. She is what I like to call a "Tennessee Crazy." Southern people are usually by nature friendly, they say hello, they smile. They are not insane. This woman looked insane. About 300lbs on a good day, about my height, with huge glasses and unkept hair. She is obviously a Tennessee Crazy. I am very scared right now.
She repeats herself.
I finally understand...I think. I believe she said "How are you doing?"
I do not know this woman. I have no desire to know this woman. I smile and nod and say "Fine." She then walks away. Then five minutes later I make a horrible mistake. I turn over my shoulder and she's sitting at a bench looking at me. We make eye contact, which is the worst of all possible scenarios. She smiles. I turn around and sit there until I finish my coffee. She still has not left. I have to pay, so I walk up to the counter, and she's still smiling at me. She says "hewwo." I say "Hello" back. I run for the car. I will never go to Catfish Campus again.
Geez...that took a while. Enough for today.
Monday, January 03, 2005
That whenever a certain person says something, no matter what it is, I get annoyed? I think I need to just calm down. Simmmmmmaahhh dawwwwwhnnn.
Oh, and I managed to drive through the founding town of the KKK and I didn't get lynched. I'm getting good at that.
Sounds like enough for today. This is so disjointed.
Sunday, January 02, 2005
(Let it be said that I love dogs. But there's a catch to that statement. I love dogs that don't double as rats.)
A nuisance has moved in downstairs. It's name is Buffy. It is a pomeranian, which means it looks like a fat rat with a haircut. It can't weigh more than 10lbs and its barks sound like squeaks. Now, I generally dislike all ratty little dogs with a passion (the sole exception being Sara's little Boomer), but there's something to this dog that makes me dislike it even more:
- For starters, it's a male dog, and it's name is Buffy. This dog is obviously gay. Flamingly gay. Say what you will about if things are born gay or they become gay, no matter how it happens, this dog would rather shop than watch football.
- The previous owner was this old woman, who, when she died, gave her daughter the sole task of making sure Buffy was taken care of (let's not get into how I know all this...my mother is a chatty woman). I know how older people can get attatched to animals, it's a fact of life. They want something to keep themselves occupied, something they can take care of. That doesn't make it any less stupid. So, the mother and son who live downstairs volunteered to take care of this 10lb. rat, but before they were allowed to, the son had to come spend the night at the daughter's house to see how to take care of and bathe this thing. And then they had to have Buffy over to the apartment for a few hours to see if Buffy was "comfortable." A frickin' rat.
- It's presence makes Molly ticked off. She barks now. She can't stand this intrusion into her domain of our apartment building. She is one angry half-Chow dog. Who weighs about 5 times what the rat weighs.
This brings me to my next point. I am going to use Molly to, uh, rid ourselves of this problem. Everyone will be happier, believe me. Scott and Linda, I know you're probably growing attached to this dog. That's too bad, and after you're done grieving for this little creature, buy yourselves a more substantial dog...like a collie or something. Anyways, would it be my fault if Molly somehow got loose from her leash when Buffy was out for a walk, somehow hadn't been fed for a day or two so she was really hungry, somehow had been shown pictures of this dog covered with doggy treats, and somehow killed it? Would I really be at fault here? I mean, it's about the same size as a squirel, it's completely within the realm of possibility that should could mistake Buffy for one.
And there we go, Operation Destroy Rat Dog.
I know this probably sounds crazy, and yes, it is. Will it ever be put into action? No, so don't worry. But I still don't like that rat and I won't shed a tear if it drowns in the rain.
Saturday, January 01, 2005
Captain Procrastination strikes again! But, I mean, this boggles my mind. Somehow they've sold out Vanderbilt's basketball stadium. A year ago they could probably only sell out the Exit/In. Now I know the real reason why people get angry when their favorite band gets popular...everyone buys tickets before you. Actaully, I think it's a dual ticket with Gavin Degraw, maybe I'm underestimating his popularity among the Vandy crowd, who, if memory serves, seem to favor that crappy acoustic rock thing. Sigh. Well, I'll be enjoying the battle of the boulevard in its entirety this year!