Friday, September 18, 2009
Dare I drink another coffee, so I can force out another meaningless post? Maybe I should just give up on all the jokes, the agony, the sarcasm, the poignant observations, the acronyms, the metaphors, the venting, the lists, the lies, and the lunacy of my content, and go straight on to the music. Maybe 4 posts back to back, has drained me of any creative flow, and I’m just left a piss-stained, withering, red-faced, acne-ridden heap with a bottle of Thunderbird, cringing in the fetal position in the bushes behind the record store (with a laptop, so I can fucking blog about it too). I’m super bitter today, which equals rash decisions, pacing, getting nothing accomplished, and muttering under my breath so that people can actually hear it. I may be a mess at the moment, but the night approaches and its Friday, and that’s when things start to get really weird. I’ve had these nights before too. I’ll probably not eat dinner, start drinking the moment I get home, order every type of alcohol at the bar (having scotch, tequila, and jager in a 45 min period makes for great hangovers), continue muttering but slur my mutters, not talk to anyone and then get really mad at someone I don’t know for no reason at all, smoke a joint when I’m at my absolute drunkest, and ghost the scene without saying goodbye. I’m sure I’m not the only one with this particular problem, as I consistently run into other “me’s” on nights when I’m not pissed and on full tilt, and its occasionally funny, but mostly just tragic. I think that acceptance is the first step toward changing your behavior (at least, I’ve heard other people say it on intervention shows). My problem is that I don’t think I’ll ever hit rock bottom, so I’ll probably just carry on in the same fashion for the rest of my life. PMA!
I'm putting up a very random selection of tracks today, which was not my original intention. When I first started writing this post, I was very particular in referencing a specific member of a band that I will be discussing over the next few lines, and I felt that this was kind of an unnecessary way to write some targeted bullshit for my blog (which no one reads, but still, stardom will come and I need to at least be weary of the ramifications of my words; part of becoming a superstar is to just fucking be one from the beginning anyway, and that means being my own PR manager). In order to not directly give away the group, I was gonna put up a tracks from a very random selection of current bands, and one of them was gonna be the mystery band in question, and then the reader wouldn't know which one they were. Naturally they'd be forced to guess, and my ghost reader either has excellent intuition, or will incorrectly assume the wrong path, and then vicious slander is released into the world; not my intention. Then a wave of total self-doubt and shame (regarding my exploitative nature kicked in) and I considered just shelving it, but I still do like the content, so I'm just gonna leave it and not even post up the band or the song, even though I like the band and the song. I'll probably post it up in the future, so I'll leave you with a cliffhanger, and now your hooked. Right? Shit, I need to start a gossip blog (and unfortunately I'm not gonna post up any newer bands in this post, so don't think its a trick; no member of The Moments knows me). Anyways, I went to college with one of the guys from the mystery band in question, and I always had a problem with him despite the fact that he was really nice, really talented and genuinely really into music for what I consider to be the right reasons. And, he may want the blow job, but I think that most of us do to a certain extent. Its the way we go about the blow job (or the way that we deal with not being able to get the blow job) that makes us good or bad people, and it's who we block, destroy, and humiliate (ourselves included) on our way there that truly equals where we stand in this world. So, if he is alright by the blow job theory, and he somehow passes my super subjective musician's authenticity guide, then what is my fucking problem? It seriously took me a moment to realize where my unease came from, and then someone said it, and it all made sense. He is a close talker, even in a normal public place with tons of space. That shit just violates me sometimes: I can feel their essence inside me, all the smells and the deep pulsating compressions of air emanating from their mouth. The close talking thing is acceptable in a club, or somewhere where the dB levels are excessive. I learned basic sign language in the 3rd Grade, and I sure as shit do not remember it. Outside of the club, I think the rule is 18 inches, so please people (especially coffee drinkers), do take notice.
Lenny Williams - You Got Me Running (Breakdown Edit)
The Moments - Sexy Mama
Intrigue - I Like It