I had this very specific thing in my brain whereby I wanted to post an entry before the year ended from good old London.
Well, I'm here, I think this place is great, and I've got to run out and get some booze, but a happy new year to all those on and off the Internet, who do and do not read this blog, and even who I do and do not know. Even if you're an asshole, so long as perhaps you stop being an asshole on account of having a happy new year. I think that's meant to be capitalized as it is considered a proper noun, but what're you gonna do sometimes, right? Right.
See you (or at least type to you) in 2012.
Cheers.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Solsticed Game
If you live in a place that has seasons and all, chances are you see some rather dramatic shifts in daylight hours. There is something about all of this that led to things like daylight savings. Farmers were involved as well, or at least, supposedly, their best interests. At any rate, in the winter, the days get short and as this is the true start of winter, we're dealing with the winter solstice, which is the longest day...of darkness. But that's a good thing for the many who struggle with the lack of sunlight because every day will now be rockin' progressively more daylight. As much talk as there is about the weather, there is a lot of talk about how all people talk about is the weather. So whether you're talking about weather or whether you'd rather we weren't talking about the weather, you're going to have to weather some weathering discussions.
Oh me? I don't actually hate winter, just its length. Oh what's that, life is usually about compromise? Okay, cool. Wish I could say I'll never bring it up again, but that's just not true.
I was telling some jokes last night at a comedy venue in town and this particular venue has signed headshots of all of the comics that have performed there as, I presume, headliners. There are a lot of photos, and it is a great concept, especially because headshots are, to me, the great equalizer. There is no one who will not look like an asshat, no matter how good the headshot, and that is by virtue of them having a headshot in the first place. I mean, they're a necessity for comedy and acting and all, but they are inevitably embarrassing so, oh right, they have a term for it, the Catch-22. So to Heller with it...
Much more of my time than might be healthy is spent analyzing the commonly used phrases of the Internet, my friend group, the general populace that surrounds me, and so on. I overuse "the thing is..." I have been noticing it a lot of other places, but that's because I noticed I do it and so now am super conscious of the phrase itself. And "chill," I say chill a lot. Most people don't noticed these overuses as much or, at least, are not as bothered by them, but if you point them out, there's a good chance they might be. What I'm getting at is two phrases that must go: "natch, obvi/obvs." Sure, a lot of humor is derived in ironic usage of these words, mockery of those who used them unironically. But let me tell you, it is a fine line. I am thankful I have not heard "natch" uttered in real life, but seeing it in print, even internet print, in something like Forbes...cool I'm done. If anything it sounds to me like Americans trying to sound like cool Brits. Hey, I like British stuff, and I get to pretend to write if off by being British, but I was born and raised here, and I don't say "natch." I sure have typed it a lot though today.
In a quick holiday round-up, how is it that there are so many Christmas songs but the Jews really seem to have half-assed it for Chanukah? Maybe there's not a lot of money in holiday music...
For the purpose of printing text onto a color background I was trying to find out what font colors paired best with background colors. I pretty much googled that very thing and one of the top results was this gem of a site. Thanks Ted. I ended up just winging it.
Oh right, another quick bit about the holidays. Lost in the shuffle of Santa Claus is Santa's counterpoint, a creature that drags out the kids on the naughty list and in a somewhat grizzly turn, devours them. I'm talking about good old Krampus.
Happy holidays folks.
Oh me? I don't actually hate winter, just its length. Oh what's that, life is usually about compromise? Okay, cool. Wish I could say I'll never bring it up again, but that's just not true.
I was telling some jokes last night at a comedy venue in town and this particular venue has signed headshots of all of the comics that have performed there as, I presume, headliners. There are a lot of photos, and it is a great concept, especially because headshots are, to me, the great equalizer. There is no one who will not look like an asshat, no matter how good the headshot, and that is by virtue of them having a headshot in the first place. I mean, they're a necessity for comedy and acting and all, but they are inevitably embarrassing so, oh right, they have a term for it, the Catch-22. So to Heller with it...
Much more of my time than might be healthy is spent analyzing the commonly used phrases of the Internet, my friend group, the general populace that surrounds me, and so on. I overuse "the thing is..." I have been noticing it a lot of other places, but that's because I noticed I do it and so now am super conscious of the phrase itself. And "chill," I say chill a lot. Most people don't noticed these overuses as much or, at least, are not as bothered by them, but if you point them out, there's a good chance they might be. What I'm getting at is two phrases that must go: "natch, obvi/obvs." Sure, a lot of humor is derived in ironic usage of these words, mockery of those who used them unironically. But let me tell you, it is a fine line. I am thankful I have not heard "natch" uttered in real life, but seeing it in print, even internet print, in something like Forbes...cool I'm done. If anything it sounds to me like Americans trying to sound like cool Brits. Hey, I like British stuff, and I get to pretend to write if off by being British, but I was born and raised here, and I don't say "natch." I sure have typed it a lot though today.
In a quick holiday round-up, how is it that there are so many Christmas songs but the Jews really seem to have half-assed it for Chanukah? Maybe there's not a lot of money in holiday music...
For the purpose of printing text onto a color background I was trying to find out what font colors paired best with background colors. I pretty much googled that very thing and one of the top results was this gem of a site. Thanks Ted. I ended up just winging it.
Oh right, another quick bit about the holidays. Lost in the shuffle of Santa Claus is Santa's counterpoint, a creature that drags out the kids on the naughty list and in a somewhat grizzly turn, devours them. I'm talking about good old Krampus.
Happy holidays folks.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Potentially Embarrassing Moments
Ah yes, there are a great deal of these in life. Take, for instance, that seated in front of me in this coffee house is a guy I met once at some event, who then friended me on facebook, after which we even have facebook interaction (this is rare for me, in general, the interacting on facebook), and has, it appears, de-friended me. Of course, I can't remember his name, so I consider it not a big deal. But like, um, totally, for real, does he recognize me? Right. For me to be writing this paragraph is embarrassing.
The other much more potentially embarrassing moment is that I am reading through notations and editorial suggestions on a printed draft of a novel I have been working on for about two years (this statement alone is tough to stomach). On the back page is my photograph. No one really wants to get caught in such a moment, unless perhaps their name is Hank Moody. If you don't watch Californication I should note that, even that situation doesn't exactly work out tip-top for the man in question. So I'm sure to have a carefully placed hand over the photo. Ted Mosby had a run-in with this circumstance but let's face it, unless it's Bob Saget narrating as old man Ted, not a lot of people are lining up to be Ted Mosby.
What isn't embarrassing though, is the herding skills on display by these Scotsmen. Man, I think they are Scots. I am not rewatching the video with sound right now and I'd probably get accent identification wrong. Oh, the embarrassment...
Well, there were a few things I had thought about writing about but, as usual, I forgot them, so I am glad to once again be bringing up this fact. Today while running I was chewing gum. I can't remember the last time that happened but it really changes the run. In the beginning of my run I was all like, "What's different about this run today?" Then it hit me. Then, later, that gum hit the sidewalk when I attempted to be smooth and spit it in a trash bin on the sidewalk without breaking stride. Sorry couple I almost spit gum onto the path of. Some sort of karma might stick around. Took a while just to work up the gumption to attempt and then I botched it.
Well, see you at the party Richter.
The other much more potentially embarrassing moment is that I am reading through notations and editorial suggestions on a printed draft of a novel I have been working on for about two years (this statement alone is tough to stomach). On the back page is my photograph. No one really wants to get caught in such a moment, unless perhaps their name is Hank Moody. If you don't watch Californication I should note that, even that situation doesn't exactly work out tip-top for the man in question. So I'm sure to have a carefully placed hand over the photo. Ted Mosby had a run-in with this circumstance but let's face it, unless it's Bob Saget narrating as old man Ted, not a lot of people are lining up to be Ted Mosby.
What isn't embarrassing though, is the herding skills on display by these Scotsmen. Man, I think they are Scots. I am not rewatching the video with sound right now and I'd probably get accent identification wrong. Oh, the embarrassment...
Well, there were a few things I had thought about writing about but, as usual, I forgot them, so I am glad to once again be bringing up this fact. Today while running I was chewing gum. I can't remember the last time that happened but it really changes the run. In the beginning of my run I was all like, "What's different about this run today?" Then it hit me. Then, later, that gum hit the sidewalk when I attempted to be smooth and spit it in a trash bin on the sidewalk without breaking stride. Sorry couple I almost spit gum onto the path of. Some sort of karma might stick around. Took a while just to work up the gumption to attempt and then I botched it.
Well, see you at the party Richter.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Because Everything Comes from Something
For the past, oh, it must be two months now, I have been going through my iTunes library to discover and rediscover the myriad tracks therein. Through the course of that, one of the things I noted was the similarity between the piano in Ingrid Michaelson's "Corner of Your Heart" and Adele's "Someone Like You". Maybe it just arose independently, and maybe they don't sound as similar as I think, but my brain says they do. But with brains bombarded by so much information and noise these days, it can be hell determining from where it is all derived. Take right now. I am listening to a track—one I will make note of later—with ESPN on (as I wait to cue up my next episode of Gossip Girl) and, oh, right, here I am typing.
And speaking of Gossip Girl, it's just always scooping me on music, just the like the mothertruckin' OC back in the day. If I'm not outright discovering a song through the show, I seem to only be a week or two ahead. Not that it matters, but it's sort of frightening the way it's tuned into a specific brainwave to which I adhere. Is it any wonder I keep tuning into the show, even when it gets worse and worse? At the close of a recent episode I caught Gotye's "Somebody That I Used to Know", which was not even credited. And not long before that it was Lana Del Rey's "Video Games."
It's amazing that, with the sheer volume of music, video, journalism, blog posts, and so on being created and the sheer number of outlets for them that there are a specific and small number of them that reach the great masses. There is a name for this phenomenon I am certain, somebody or other's law.
And oh my god Gossip Girl is killing me with the never-ending back and forth of these relationships and everyone is in love with everyone but not sure if they're really in love and somehow everyone is super conniving and crafty even the characters most peripherally pulled in. I get the concept of them all being tainted by the toxicity of the life but how are they so crafty so quickly and okay, alright, it's fiction. And they just quoted Camus?
I read this nifty little piece in The Paris Review where a high schooler in the 60s asked a bunch of contemporary authors about symbolism. It's pretty much what a lot of teenagers struggle through in high school English and some of the responses are excellent (they only show a few, but I'd like to read them all).
Google has released a new ad, as of about two weeks ago for Google +. I found it...depressing...So it goes.
At any rate that seems enough sort of information and information of sorts at the moment.
And speaking of Gossip Girl, it's just always scooping me on music, just the like the mothertruckin' OC back in the day. If I'm not outright discovering a song through the show, I seem to only be a week or two ahead. Not that it matters, but it's sort of frightening the way it's tuned into a specific brainwave to which I adhere. Is it any wonder I keep tuning into the show, even when it gets worse and worse? At the close of a recent episode I caught Gotye's "Somebody That I Used to Know", which was not even credited. And not long before that it was Lana Del Rey's "Video Games."
It's amazing that, with the sheer volume of music, video, journalism, blog posts, and so on being created and the sheer number of outlets for them that there are a specific and small number of them that reach the great masses. There is a name for this phenomenon I am certain, somebody or other's law.
And oh my god Gossip Girl is killing me with the never-ending back and forth of these relationships and everyone is in love with everyone but not sure if they're really in love and somehow everyone is super conniving and crafty even the characters most peripherally pulled in. I get the concept of them all being tainted by the toxicity of the life but how are they so crafty so quickly and okay, alright, it's fiction. And they just quoted Camus?
I read this nifty little piece in The Paris Review where a high schooler in the 60s asked a bunch of contemporary authors about symbolism. It's pretty much what a lot of teenagers struggle through in high school English and some of the responses are excellent (they only show a few, but I'd like to read them all).
Google has released a new ad, as of about two weeks ago for Google +. I found it...depressing...So it goes.
At any rate that seems enough sort of information and information of sorts at the moment.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Caffiend
That I have mentioned before that my coffee consumption was rare prior to a move to The Windy City seems quite likely. But one thing I have strived to do is not make myself reliant and thus the terrible person many of us can become without the thing, so often a substance, that we have come to rely upon. This, of course, is related to the everything in moderation rule. And I allege non-reliance in spite of being able to nod off or, at least, wanting to, immediately post cup during the holiday. That I attribute to heavy consumption of carbohydrates and sweets, increased running, and decreased sleeping instead. Why in the Hell do I bring any of this up? Well because I'm seated sipping a cup, perhaps a little too late in the day, but nothing a couple of drinks at dinner can't balance out.
I was thinking not for the first time about the image I project with my haircut, fashion, and also by the places I choose to hang-out. A penchant for a cheap drink at a local establishment that is a true dive and home to derelicts galore—what this says of me, I will not bother to say—is what seems to have gotten me on this particular occasion. As I walked down the street, on the phone mind you, a man walked toward me repeating the word "blow." A lot. "Blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow," and, in case I missed that, a grabbing of the nose to go along with it. I'll admit, it did take me a second to grasp what he was talking about. When he came upon me he was even more direct, "You gotta any blow, man."
"Sorry dude," I had to tell him for I, in fact, never have consumed this powdery nose substance—though this is not the first time I have been taken for one who does—and I really was apologetic.
"Come on, maaaaaaaan," he went on. "I've seen you at ________. Quit holding out on me."
Repeating myself I suggested he make his way to the very place he had seen me, the derelict bar in question. There was more to the exchange, but that seems good enough for now, especially with regard to preserving the anonymity of people and places in question (although it's not as if I know this guy's name). The point, to go along with my reconsidering my image, is to be amused at the way I was looking around with my senses when this occurred, expecting that someone might give a shit about a wasted guy looking for a score from pretty much a total stranger. I am routinely intrigued by how much is going on right around us that we are completely ignorant to.
But image is nothing anyway.
Well, there are the usual things and stuff I've forgotten to mention, but I'm already at the point where I feel as if I may have made this entry long enough. Shout out to the east coast for delicious bagels and the availability of high quality, non-deep dish pizza. Shout out to hills and making me tired as shit while running but I appreciate them for improved fitness. Shout out to the dopey face—complete with open mouth and mildly fear-ridden eyes—some woman just made looking for a seat up in this bitch. And shout out to mistakes via me accidentally ordering a tuna sub the other day! My crusty ass expected the sandwich to have fresh tuna. How would that have been possible when it was cheaper than every sandwich on the menu? Oh cheapness, you are always fooling me.
I was thinking not for the first time about the image I project with my haircut, fashion, and also by the places I choose to hang-out. A penchant for a cheap drink at a local establishment that is a true dive and home to derelicts galore—what this says of me, I will not bother to say—is what seems to have gotten me on this particular occasion. As I walked down the street, on the phone mind you, a man walked toward me repeating the word "blow." A lot. "Blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow," and, in case I missed that, a grabbing of the nose to go along with it. I'll admit, it did take me a second to grasp what he was talking about. When he came upon me he was even more direct, "You gotta any blow, man."
"Sorry dude," I had to tell him for I, in fact, never have consumed this powdery nose substance—though this is not the first time I have been taken for one who does—and I really was apologetic.
"Come on, maaaaaaaan," he went on. "I've seen you at ________. Quit holding out on me."
Repeating myself I suggested he make his way to the very place he had seen me, the derelict bar in question. There was more to the exchange, but that seems good enough for now, especially with regard to preserving the anonymity of people and places in question (although it's not as if I know this guy's name). The point, to go along with my reconsidering my image, is to be amused at the way I was looking around with my senses when this occurred, expecting that someone might give a shit about a wasted guy looking for a score from pretty much a total stranger. I am routinely intrigued by how much is going on right around us that we are completely ignorant to.
But image is nothing anyway.
Well, there are the usual things and stuff I've forgotten to mention, but I'm already at the point where I feel as if I may have made this entry long enough. Shout out to the east coast for delicious bagels and the availability of high quality, non-deep dish pizza. Shout out to hills and making me tired as shit while running but I appreciate them for improved fitness. Shout out to the dopey face—complete with open mouth and mildly fear-ridden eyes—some woman just made looking for a seat up in this bitch. And shout out to mistakes via me accidentally ordering a tuna sub the other day! My crusty ass expected the sandwich to have fresh tuna. How would that have been possible when it was cheaper than every sandwich on the menu? Oh cheapness, you are always fooling me.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Old Jersey
Aaaawwwwwwwwwwwwww shit. Whenever I return to the place of my birth and raising I get quite nostalgic, but I also get quite lazy. And they feed each other. It's unreal the amount of crap brimming in my childhood bedroom. If I was a bigger consumer, I might make the classification of hoarder. I've got clothes up in this em eff that I haven't worn in, maybe ever, and yet I'll look at them and think "perhaps in 2015." And the colors on my blog, they've got to be changed. I also realized something, which I realized before but may not have addressed, and that is if you came here only seeing me on twitter you might be surprised at the inconsistency. Where on twitter I stick to quick and terrible puns and rhyming, here I am verbose and blather a lot. Then again, that is what each respective medium is for right? Or something like that.
Do you realize if you add the current month with the current year—using abbreviated date format—that they add to form the day that is today? Of course you do...
How about Radio Shack, am I right? You've got questions, and one includes how they are still in business. After reading their wiki it appears that their days are working towards being numbered? Oh buy Solley, you say, all days are numbered, it's called a calendar...and that's just a call-back to one of my many terrible jokes about being fired.
A few weeks ago I'd decided I would go entirely through my iTunes music library deleting tracks that did not appeal. Part of the problem with this is the mood I might be in, and part of the problem is my same issue with off-loading my old clothes and notebooks and goodness knows what else. But it's been a fun project, even if I'm only at "J," which means at this moment I'm plowing through JJ. I love me some Euro shit, from my strange soccer (or footballer's) mullet, to my fashion preferences, to my love of British comedy and of Russian novelists and, I presume you get the idea.
So it's all good when my family refers to me [mostly] affectionately as Eurotrash. I am stoked for that in two days, as it will be Thanksgiving time. Yes, it needed to be italicized. This has long been my favorite holiday. I like eating, I like pie, and I like my family, so it makes sense. The year also nears its end and the weather is maybe just hanging on to a little bit of warmth. I like to think I'm thankful for how good I have it most of the time, especially more as I age, but I don't mind another official reminder even if I generally grumble (not gobble) at manufactured holidays. Because the truth is, I am really thankful. I've got a good life and maybe everything doesn't come together, but it is about the journey as some of them will say.
I've not really the space here at this point to discuss how ridiculous those buckled hats are. I mean, really, does your head change size that frequently? How we devise and continue and augment traditions is an interesting business.
So I hope you're spending the holiday with family and/or friends. In this rising digital age, let's be glad for the times we can be physically together. I, for one, love getting physical.
Do you realize if you add the current month with the current year—using abbreviated date format—that they add to form the day that is today? Of course you do...
How about Radio Shack, am I right? You've got questions, and one includes how they are still in business. After reading their wiki it appears that their days are working towards being numbered? Oh buy Solley, you say, all days are numbered, it's called a calendar...and that's just a call-back to one of my many terrible jokes about being fired.
A few weeks ago I'd decided I would go entirely through my iTunes music library deleting tracks that did not appeal. Part of the problem with this is the mood I might be in, and part of the problem is my same issue with off-loading my old clothes and notebooks and goodness knows what else. But it's been a fun project, even if I'm only at "J," which means at this moment I'm plowing through JJ. I love me some Euro shit, from my strange soccer (or footballer's) mullet, to my fashion preferences, to my love of British comedy and of Russian novelists and, I presume you get the idea.
So it's all good when my family refers to me [mostly] affectionately as Eurotrash. I am stoked for that in two days, as it will be Thanksgiving time. Yes, it needed to be italicized. This has long been my favorite holiday. I like eating, I like pie, and I like my family, so it makes sense. The year also nears its end and the weather is maybe just hanging on to a little bit of warmth. I like to think I'm thankful for how good I have it most of the time, especially more as I age, but I don't mind another official reminder even if I generally grumble (not gobble) at manufactured holidays. Because the truth is, I am really thankful. I've got a good life and maybe everything doesn't come together, but it is about the journey as some of them will say.
I've not really the space here at this point to discuss how ridiculous those buckled hats are. I mean, really, does your head change size that frequently? How we devise and continue and augment traditions is an interesting business.
So I hope you're spending the holiday with family and/or friends. In this rising digital age, let's be glad for the times we can be physically together. I, for one, love getting physical.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Elvis Costello
This is my inaugural blogging effort from the confines of Madison, WI. Incidentally, whenever I think of Madison, I sing it in my head—and sometimes aloud—to the tune of Elvis Costello's Alison. I haven't gotten around to any of the other lyrics because I don't know the original ones, even though I've listened to that track many times. This is good for everyone involved.
As one who has become a big-time coffee shop and house attendee, I have to say there are some pretty good offerings here over in the university section. The university too, is pretty effing beautiful, complete with a somewhat sandy path that runs along one of the two lakes that this part of town isthmuses between. Though I have not been to some of the larger state schools (they're all large), I've been to a few and I don't see how any campus can possibly have as many people wearing gear adorned with university name, emblem, or something of that sort as is the case here. It's a sea of red, though I admit I am likely blinded by proximity.
No need to do a full-on review though since a fellow over at The New York Times just did one, and it covers a decent amount of the stuff. There is no shortage of delicious cheese, in standard, curd, or fried form. And there is no shortage of beer, especially those hoppy IPAs I favor. Madison affords one access to beverages from New Glarus brewing company, which are not distributed outside the state. I'm going on record as saying the famous Spotted Cow is gross. Uh, I mean, it's not for me. Plenty of other good beers though from New Glarus and beyond. Oh, and in further homage to dairy, you can get some damned good ice cream, by which I don't mean that the ice cream is condemned and headed to Hell, but is delicious.
Right now I'm parked about a 100 feet from the Capital Building, as featured/photographed in that linked article, which was apparently down-sized—the building, not the photograph—to be smaller than that in the nation's Capitol, the one that is afforded the distinction and distinct spelling of the Capitol Building. This one is rather gigantic. Many thanks to my tour guide for the bit of history there.
The same fear of boring blogging that has been staring me in the face many of my prior posts is rearing its head again, so I'll be heading along. I am looking over at a guy who has the cup of coffee from So I Married an Axe Murderer and my heart just exploded and vision grew blurred with the thought of consuming that much caffeine. Also just with the fond memories anytime I think of select scenes from that film. Next time I am here, I'll have to order it on principle. What was that about boring? Oh right, you stay safe out there folks.
As one who has become a big-time coffee shop and house attendee, I have to say there are some pretty good offerings here over in the university section. The university too, is pretty effing beautiful, complete with a somewhat sandy path that runs along one of the two lakes that this part of town isthmuses between. Though I have not been to some of the larger state schools (they're all large), I've been to a few and I don't see how any campus can possibly have as many people wearing gear adorned with university name, emblem, or something of that sort as is the case here. It's a sea of red, though I admit I am likely blinded by proximity.
No need to do a full-on review though since a fellow over at The New York Times just did one, and it covers a decent amount of the stuff. There is no shortage of delicious cheese, in standard, curd, or fried form. And there is no shortage of beer, especially those hoppy IPAs I favor. Madison affords one access to beverages from New Glarus brewing company, which are not distributed outside the state. I'm going on record as saying the famous Spotted Cow is gross. Uh, I mean, it's not for me. Plenty of other good beers though from New Glarus and beyond. Oh, and in further homage to dairy, you can get some damned good ice cream, by which I don't mean that the ice cream is condemned and headed to Hell, but is delicious.
Right now I'm parked about a 100 feet from the Capital Building, as featured/photographed in that linked article, which was apparently down-sized—the building, not the photograph—to be smaller than that in the nation's Capitol, the one that is afforded the distinction and distinct spelling of the Capitol Building. This one is rather gigantic. Many thanks to my tour guide for the bit of history there.
The same fear of boring blogging that has been staring me in the face many of my prior posts is rearing its head again, so I'll be heading along. I am looking over at a guy who has the cup of coffee from So I Married an Axe Murderer and my heart just exploded and vision grew blurred with the thought of consuming that much caffeine. Also just with the fond memories anytime I think of select scenes from that film. Next time I am here, I'll have to order it on principle. What was that about boring? Oh right, you stay safe out there folks.
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