CLOSURE! (part 2)

Marilyn Manson: Antichrist Superstar
This album scared me when I first heard it. The theme is basically the apocalypse brought about by a creature, the Antichrist, who started life as a Worm and then evolved into this terribly charismatic thing that destroys the world because he considers us all dead. The music is so intense and hate filled that while listening to it as I walk through the streets of New York can result in me slamming into people just because I know they can’t do shit. Regularly I wouldn’t do that, but the tone and feel of this album really alters something in me.
This album has 16 songs and it broken into three cycles: The Hierophant, Inauguration of the Worm and Disintegrator Rising. Each of these tells the story of the worm who got its wings and became the Antichrist (or the Disintegrator or the Angel with The Scabbed Wings). The first cycle sets the tone while the second cycle involves the actual transformation of the worm into the angel and the third cycle is about the future and the end of everything.
The album begins with a cracked voice (the voice of the ruler of the world, the Antichrist) saying “when you are suffering, know that I have betrayed you” And then, we hear his voice inciting a multitude to chant “We hate love, we love hate” until the songs explodes with such lyrics as “Hey victim, should I black your eyes again?”, “I hate the hater, I rape the raper”, “Everybody’s someone else’s nigger, I know you are, so am I.” The album goes on from there, laced with malice, contempt, violence, and just about everything negative one can express in a 70 minute time period. The title track is a fist-pumping anthem to bring about the eschaton simply by people willing it to occur. The track “1996” I feel is one of the most violent in which the Antichrist declares exactly what he is and that we deserve all of this: Anti people now you’ve gone too far, here’s your Antichrist Superstar.” The last song on the album, “Man That You Fear” addresses the fact that this creature that the world worships and fear used to be the boy (worm) who was abused and unsure of himself. The song opens with the line “the ants are in the sugar, the muscles atrophied.” Chaos and ruin abound and things are nearing the end. It also explains why he is ending the world: I have it all and I have no choice but to/I’ll make everyone pay and you will see/you can kill yourself now because you’re dead in my mind/. He gets his revenge and as the song and world end many voices are heard repeating when all of your wishes are granted, many of your dreams will be destroyed”. That brings about the close of the album. But right before the very end of the CD is a strange vocal track in which we discover that in all the nothingness left behind, the Disintegrator himself feels something cold grow in his chest resulting in his eventual death.
I should mention that with the production values of the post-Downward Spiral Trent Reznor, this album might have been as great lyrically, but not nearly as amazing musically. The difference between a Rhodes piano and a Mellodrone? Reznor. The different between a loud, crashing guitar and a think, grinding world-ending guitar? Reznor. The difference between a song on the album having 10 tracks (one for vocals, one for back-up vocals, one for drums etc) and one have 15 tracks? Reznor. This album might have been good without him, but I’m happy we’ll never know.

They Might Be Giants: Factory Showroom
This was the first TMBG CD that I bought. First of many, but it was their most recent album at the time of the purchase and it was great. The album starts with what became my theme song for a while, “S~E~X~X~Y”. On top, this song is about being too sexy to handle, but the deeper meaning is quite a bit different. As we ALL know, anyone who has a chromosome with XXY rather than the typical XY is a freak and has both male and female biological traits. The lyric: “S-E-X-X-Y, more than enough” indicates that one is too sexy, but also that there are more than enough “X” chromosomes. Then the lines “Cookie in one hand, wig on her head” (a man who is a woman) and “she’s got another plane, she wants to be your man” cinch the notion. Just to clarify, the song was my theme for its swing, funk rhythm, not because I am a hermaphrodite. I will show you all my cocknballs if you don’t believe me. Then there’s “Til My Head Falls Off”, a first person account of living to a ripe old age riddled with amnesia. Then, “How Can I Sing Like A Girl?”, a song about how once in concert Flansburgh sang a song in falsetto to recreate the speed up, higher vocals on a song. Next, “Exquisite Dead Guy”, which is based on the existential literary parlor game “The Exquisite Corpse” and which features the lyrics, “Exquisite dead guy, outside my high-rise apartment, exquisite dead guy, hanging from a sky hook”. There’s “Metal Detector” a song based on a book written by a madman. Then “New York City”, a song done originally by a Canadian band call Cub that TMBG made their own and besides, what are the Canadians going to do? This song was even more important to me because at the moment it was introduced to me, I had acclimated myself to Florida, but still had the need to return to New York, so this song hit the spot. Other gems include “Spiraling Shape” about how dangerous and destructive drugs are, but without being preachy and it was also in Brain Candy, making it immensely much cooler, “James K. Polk, a beautiful telling song about the 11th President of the USA, “XTC Vs. Adam Ant” a song about just that, “I Can Hear You” a song whose concept is being that its finished product, but interesting nonetheless and finally “The Bells Are Ringing” a song addressing mass hypnosis by the tintinnabulations of ringing bells. This is one of their most clever albums to date and it rocks, all the way. Beatle-based pop combined with off-beat, sometimes depressing or dark lyrics. Perfect ingredients for fun and music.

They Might Be Giants: John Henry
The first album on which they used a live band (drums, bass, guitar, horns etc) and not just a sampler or MIDI generator. This added such a new depth to their music and ended up shaping them for the future. After ten years of just the two Johns, they could have gone on producing great music with just the two of them (keyboards, guitar and accordion), but their decision opened up a whole new dynamic for them. The album had a new sound with the same old excellent lyrical quality. The album contains such tracks as “Meet James Ensor”, a song about the greatness of the late Belgian painter, “No One Knows My Plan” which has an infectious conga beat that makes it impossible for the listener not to “bust a move” as they say, “I Should Be Allowed to Think” which features a quote from Ginsberg’s Howl part 2 (I saw the best minds of my generation destroying by madness, starving, hysterical), “Dirtbike” which is about a cult leader, which just happens to be a dirt bike, brainwashing people with its evil charisma, “Sleeping in the Flowers” which is an amazingly arranged song based on a song based on drugs. All the tracks are great. Their horn addiction started with this album and since its release in 1994, horns have been an integral part of some of their best work, and their live shows. This album is a landmark. They Might Be Giants’ transition from one form to another.


Beck: Midnite Vultures
This is the goddamnest funkiest album I own and Beck Hansen is the goddamndest funkiest white man in existence. This album can be described as such: having intercourse with a malfunctioning drum machine. From the first note is “Sexx Laws” to the last note in “Debra” the album makes you want to shake your ass and talk jive-ass nonsense. These songs deal with and satirize sex, love, gangstas and more. The opening tracks “Sexx Laws” nuts into your ear with a brash horn riff, funky guitar and dope drum beat, to coin a phrase. Then in the middle of this techno dance fuck, there is a banjo solo. The banjo is joined by a slide guitar (that twangy country sounding thing). The lone banjo and guitar are joined by the aforementioned funk guitar, brash horns and the song becomes Tetris. INTERFUCKINGLOCKING baby. You wonder how you could even hear this song without the banjo. Any artist that can make a banjo sound cool deserves cake. Then “Nicotine and Gravy” (a song titled inspired when I chain-smoking friend of Beck’s came over for Thanksgiving, became drunk, vomited and passed out. The next day this friend asked what happened. Beck told them they vomited…nicotine and gravy. Despite the title, this is one of the sexier songs, including the lyrics:
I'll feed you fruit that don't exist
I'll leave graffiti
Where you've never been kissed
I'll do your laundry
Massage your soul
I'll turn you over
To the highway patrol
I know it doesn’t SOUND sexy, but once you’ve heard the porn groove of N&G and his sex-thickened voice mumbling that line…you just get wet. Then there’s Mixed Bizness. Oooooh, taste the electro-funk. Every word and note of this is pure funk. In fact, you need a funk towel to clean up afterwards.

I'm mixing business with leather
Christmas with Heather
Freaks flock together
And make all the b-boys scream

Word up to the man-thing
She's always cold lamping
Visine at the canteen
I just wanna watch you dance

Do you wanna ride on the Baltic Sea
I'll be your mistress C.O.D.
I'll comb your hair
Rewrite your diary
Pour champagne on a honey bee

She can really do me
She can look right through me
And make all the b-boys scream

I'm mixing fitness with leather
Homework with Heather
Freaks flock together
And make all the lesbians scream
JESUS FUCK HE IS FUNK EMBODIED. Then there’s his parody of those “hard ass gansta niggas” who rap about bling and spitooy and dink and winkle and all those silly African-American make up words. This song, “Hollywood Freaks” has a phat gangsta beat that would sound tired with any other vocals over it but Beck’s lyrics and vocal tone actually bring life to it. This song brings me to Beck’s use and feeling on lyrics. He said in an interview that his lyrics are as important as they are unimportant. Well…he’s a weird guy. But check this fucking lyrics out:
Hot milk
Mmmm... tweak my nipple
Champagne and ripple
Shamans go cripple
My sales go triple
We drop lobotomy beats
Evaporated meats
On hi-tech street
We go solo
Dance floors and talk shows
Hot dogs, No Doz
Hot sex in back rows

I wanna know what makes you scream
Be your twenty million dollar fantasy
Treat you real good
Expensive jeans
Hollywood freaks on the Hollywood scene

Touch it real good if you want a piece
Party people know I'm that type of freak

People look so snooty
Take pills make them moody
Automatic bzooty
Zero to tutti fruitti
Sex in the halls
Niagra Falls
Local shopping malls receive
Anonymous calls
Hot like a cheetah
Neon mamacita
Eat at tacoria
Pop lockin' beats from Korea
Looking like jail bait
Selling lots of real estate
Looking like a hot date
Banging like an 808

Do you want to feel this?
Do you want to feel this?

Norman Schwartzkoff
Something tells me you want to go home
Champagne, bibles
Custom clothes you own
Calling up from special area codes
Hollywood nuns with the Hollywood phones
I got nothing to do, nowhere to go
I'll tell you what you want
If you want to know
Satin sheets
Tropical oils
Turn up the heat
Till the swimming pool boils
Let all the neighbors
Read it in the papers
Making all those gentlemen cry
Realistic tears

Jockin' my Mercedes
Probably have my baby
Shop at Old Navy
He wish he was a lady

No, they don’t really make sense, but that’s kind of the point of this song. Throughout this track, Beck is yelling a lot of these lyrics as if he’s bragging and showing off. Then he’ll say a few of them in a lower register, sounding sultry. He is doing what all this Puff Daddy’s are doing, bragging about stupid shit and promising equally stupid shit. That’s why this guy is the shit. Because he insults P. Diddy Poo. Among some of the other funkier stand out lyrics are:

Sexx Laws:
Can't you hear those cavalry drums
Hijacking your equilibrium
Midnight hags in the mausoleum
Where the pixilated doctors moan
Carnivores in the Kowloon night
Breathing freon by the candlelight
Coquettes bitch slap you so polite
Till you thank them
For the tea and sympathy

Neptune's lips taste like fermented wine
Perfumed blokes on the Ginza line
Running buck wild like a concubine
Who's mother never held her hand
Brief encounters in Mercedes Benz
Wearing hepatitis contact lens
Bed and breakfast getaway weekends
With Sports Illustrated moms

Peach and Cream:
Don't tell your right hand baby
What your left hand do
You know those road check girls
Will make your brown breath blue

You look good in that sweater
And that aluminum crutch
I'm gonna let you down easy
I've got a delicate touch

You're a torn out page
From a best selling book
Your home girl's on the line
But your daddy's off the hook
Where do we go now?

Give those pious soldiers
Another lollipop
Cause we're on the good ship
Menage et tois

Peaches and cream
You make a garbage man scream
Such a delicate thing

Keep your lamplight trimmed and burning

Anyway, sorry I’m just listing lyrics since the lyrics are just words without the music. My favorite track on the album is “Milk and Honey”. It’s well written and well orchestrated and well funky. The last track is called “Debra” and is the story of a guy meeting a girl named Jenny at a JC Penny and then saying “I wanna get with you, only you, and your sister, I think her name’s Debra”. The super funkiest sleaze track I’ve ever heard. This is the album I listen to when good things happen to me. I get a booking, I listen to this album, it’s the first warm day after a series of rainy nasty cold days, I listen to this album, and walking around this city to the beat of these songs, you feel like Funkor, the ancient God of Funk and Kudzu.

Beck: Sea Change
The first amazing thing about this album is that it came right after Midnite Vultures. Whereas MV was having intercourse with a malfunctioning drum machine, Sea Change is best described as a long, slow drive through the Mojave (thank you Phil). The type of music can come off and simple and a bit country at first, but if you listen closely, you can feel more behind it. Electro-folk is how I described it once. You hear a lonely acoustic guitar note that turns into a computer error buzz. Thick, warm keyboards engulfed in metallic whirs and bleeps. The soundscape is so expressive of the cold, desolate nature of the music that you can actual get chills listening to it. The first song is called “The Golden Age” which connotates good things, the peak of a society is called its Golden Age, but the first line is “put your hands on the wheel as the Golden Age begins”. This immediately instills the image of a man running from society and perfection. Wandering. “You have to drive all night, just to feel like you’re ok”. You can’t be in one place too long without being uncomfortable. Unsettling way to start an album. After hearing the song, you can taste the bitterness with which “golden age” is spoken. The next song introduces David Campbell’s work on the album. David Campbell has worked as a conductor, composer and arranger for over 200 gold and platinum albums, 80 hit singles and has worked on albums which received 111 Grammy nominations, 26 Grammy awards and 3 Oscars. He is also Beck father. His work on Sea Change is his most amazing to date. On this album he does all the strings. Most of the tracks on this album are augmented or created by Campbell’s powerful, emotional string work. The line from the second track “Paper Tiger” “All the deserts down below us, and the storms up above, like a stray dog gone defective, like a paper tiger in the sun” might or might not be anything on its own, but with the driving, swooping strings behind it, you can see these images Beck presents as clear as day. Campbell’s strings turn a sad line into a crushing sentiment, a happy line into triumphant moment, etc. The next song, “Guess I’m Doin’ Fine” is about how Beck now has time to do what he wants, when he want since a relationship recently ended. He is still broken about this parting and is doing his best to look on the bright side, but the light isn’t bright enough to counteract the remaining dark. He tries to be happy and put up a good front, but he’s still affected. The chorus is a mix of emotions and ideas from Beck. “It’s only lies that I’m livin’, it’s only tears that I’m cryin’, it’s only you that I’m losin’, guess I’m doin’ fine.” He can only guess he’s doing fine because his emotional state is so murky thanks to this loss. He might be doing fine, but he really can’t tell. Then, “Lonesome Tears” begins. Beck is questioning why he’s crying these tears, but the questions are hypothetical.
“Lonesome tears
I can't cry them anymore
I can't think of what they're for
Oh they ruin me every time
But I'll try
To leave behind some days
These tears just can't erase
I don’t need them anymore”
He can’t detach himself from his pain or his tears. The next song is, in a way his way of washing his hands of this loss. He describes his love as a lost cause and says he’s tired of fighting for her. Pure and simple. There’s “End of the Day” which stresses the importance of good timing in relationships. A relationship ending too late “I’ve seen the end of the day come to late, I’ve seen the love you had turning into hate, had to act like I didn't even care, but I did so I got stranded standing there”, a relationship ending too soon “I’ve seen the end of the day come to soon, not a lot to say and not a lot to do, you played the game, you owe nothing to yourself, rest a day, for tomorrow you can't tell” and his reaction to both “it's nothing that I haven't seen before, but it still kills me like it did before.” The track “Round the Bend” is one of the most beautiful and sad tracks on the album.
We don't have to worry
Life goes where it does
Faster than a bullet
From an empty gun

Turn yourself over
Loose change we could spend
Grinding down diamonds
Round, round, round the bend

People pushing harder
Up against themselves
Make their daggers sharper
Than their faces tell

Babe, it’s your time now
Loose change we could spend
Where we are going
Round, round, round the bend
This has a very final feeling to it. Next is, “Already Dead” which touches on the angry he feels throughout this album. Everything up to this point, you could see being spoken followed by a dusty sigh, but here we can almost here the words coming through clenched teeth.
Time wears away
All the pleasures of the day
All the treasures you could hold
Days turn to sand
Losing strength in every hand
They can't hold you anymore

Already dead to me now
'Coz it feels like I'm watching something die

Love looks away
In the harsh light of the day
On the edge of nothing more
Days fade to black
In the light of what they lack
Nothing's measured by what it needs

Already dead to me now
'Coz it feels like I'm watching something dyin’.

My favorite track on the album is the penultimate tracks “Little One”. This track has such images that I was so affected the first time I heard it. Incredible powerful images of despair and futility along with a chilling chord progression, yow. This song is almost like a lullaby for a child dying of some horrible disease. The dreams are always waiting or waking, both meaning that neither will come true. And the almost childlike verse “drown, drown, sailors run aground, in a sea change, nothing is safe” is one of the worst things I’ve ever heard, but I can’t say why. I think it has to do with the idea of the sea turning to sand and an upheaval on such a scale that the Earth itself would be affected. It’s the futility and sadness in this song that really get to me.
Go to sleep
We're so tired now
Altogether in a snake pit of souls
New days
To throw your chains away
To try to hang your hopes on the wind

Little one
Just a little way
Today all we need is waiting

Night rise
Like the evening prize
In a turnstile backwards we fly
Cold bones
Tied together by
Black ropes we pulled from a swing

Little one
Just a little way
Today all of the dreams are waking

Can't stand on crooked legs
I'm cross-eyed to the wall
In these harbor lights
Satellites explode

Drown, drown
Sailors run aground
In a sea change nothing is safe
Strange waves
Push us every way
In a stolen boat we'll float away

Little one
Hold on
All of the dreams are wasting

The entire album has been about searching and dealing with things, so one could hope that the final track will leave us in a better place than where we started, running from the warmth and happiness of the Golden Age, but nom the last track is called Side of the Road and that’s where we end up. “In a random room/Behind an iron door/Kick an empty can/Across an empty floor. The lack of emphasis of where the album ends shows just how distracted and desolated Beck is. Just end it here. No one will notice.

CLOSURE! (part 3)

Depeche Mode: Songs of Faith and Devotion
Drugs are bad. Drugs are used to alter ones state of mind. Some people use them to “find new artistic places in themselves”. Many musical artists do this today, but very few stop. Too many drugs can kill such an artist, such as Shannon Hoon of Blind Melon, the guy from Sublime and numerous others. Too many drugs are bad, but just the right amount? Now that can produce some amazing shit. The specific amazing shit I refer to is Depeche Mode’s album Songs of Faith and Devotion. During the writing and recording of this album, Dave Gahan (the lead singer) was chasing the dragon, performing oral sex on Lady H, sucking the horse’s dick etc. This album, of the dozen or so that Depeche Mode has put out n over 20 years is their best. Plus, his hair was the sexiest during “Songs”. The themes of this album are religion compared and contrasted with love and sex, but outside the theme of the album is the fact that all three main members of the band believed this would be their last album. The heroin was destroying them all. The music on the album is years a head of its time in my opinion and it all has a heavy, dark feeling to it. The instruments are nothing special but it all comes together so well in forming the theme of the album and the feeling of impending nothing outside the album. There is one track, sung by Martin Gore called “One Caress” where he is alone in a studio with a live orchestra and he is conducting and singing along with them, very good stuff. The track Condemnation is amazing. The quality of Gahan’s voice is so clearly affected by emotion and drug use that you can’t help but feel every word he crows. These songs all have some sort of religious feel to them, either a personification of God or a hymn-like feel to it or something along those lines. In the end, Gahan has asked for forgiveness, rallied against God and finally, given up. This would have been a sad ending to the career of Depeche Mode, but luckily it wasn’t. They made three or four albums after his one then broke up a few months ago. Their solo shit sucks, but hey surprise, surprise. At least we’ll always have Songs of Faith and Devotion.

Guns N Roses: Use Your Illusion II
I was given this album on my 10th Birthday by Will Marsh who later died. He gave me Use Your Illusion I and II on tape. I put it into my tape player the moment I got it and the tape player ate the tape and self destructed at the same moment. I was pretty pissed off, but I didn’t have there words to express how angry I felt. I had to use my father’s stereo that was in the living room to listen to the album. Once I listened to it, I suddenly found my vocabulary expanded by about 7 words: motherfucker, cocksucker, shit, piss, ass, fuckhead and pussy, I have NEVER taken to a set of words more swimmingly in my life. Suddenly, I was getting in trouble at school, mortifying my older cousins and impressing my schoolyard chums. Did I know what all these words meant? No, but that didn’t stop me. Thanks to W. Axl Rose, my life was changed.
Onto the album. I love Guns N’ Roses ability to be mature one moment and then revert to grade school insults the next. It’s refreshing to see a band be so popular yet so offensive. This is without a doubt their best album. Lies and Appetite for Destruction had the hits and the catchiness and the staying power, but they lacked nuance and variation. Not just on the album as a whole, but in most of the songs, you’ll find a change in tempo and tone. You can actually FEEL Axel going from sad to frustrated to angry to pissed off in Civil War. And the cover of Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door?! Jesus, Dylan must be pissed, he was totally shown up. Get in the Ring provided most of the explicit language on the album and I say thank you again to W. Axel for the pleasure of hearing people I don’t know get cursed at. Then…the album is going well, you might not like all the tracks but there is a definite sense of continuity and cohesion to the whole thing…until…My World. I can’t even describe this song…actually I can. Throbbing, pulsing, marching, stomping synthesizer (that you’ll find NOWHERE else on the album) chew your face along with screeching subway noises and the sound of women moaning. Then…the lyrics:

You wanna step into my world
It's a sociopsychotic state of bliss
You've been delayed in the real world
How many times have you hit and missed?
You cat-scan shows disfiguration
I wanna laugh myself to death
With a misfired synapse
with a bent configuration
I'll hold the line while you gasp for breath
You wanna talk to me
So talk to me
You wanna talk to me [7 times]
You can't talk to me
You don't understand your sex
You ain't been mindfucked yet
Let's do it [3 times]
Oh my distorted smile

Guess what I'm doing now

Yeah, wow. Think of early Nine Inch Nails, but much more angry and creepy. Total mindfuck (as coined by Axel in said song). The working formula for G’N’R for me involves Axl’s screeching/nasal/downright fucking irritating vocals, Slash’s numerous guitar solos (try counting them some time) and the use of the piano in kick ass hard rock. Great combo. And how about tat amazing indecipherable video trilogy they released with the albums? What the fuck was going on there? I thought I had an idea up until the final video (Estranged, which is one of the most excellent songs they do) in which everything just kind of fell apart. I love almost every track on this and it still remains one of the only albums I can just put on and enjoy even if I can’t understand half of what Axel Rose says. Knowing, at this point in my life would just ruin something, so fuck it, as Axel himself might say. The downside to the whole thing is that what makes this album so much greater and me so much sadder is that this was the last good thing GNR did. After this (which came out in 9/91) they released The Spaghetti Incident? (question mark is their idea, not mine) which was a cover album of punk songs. It sucks. The problem was that GNR has the ability to create stuff with so many nooks and crannies that it’s like a musical English muffin, but the music they were covering had no dimensions to t. It was flat. After that everyone died or left but Rose, and his recent appearance at that MTV thing was fucking ridiculous. His voice, looks, and songwriting abilities are gone. As is Slash. God what a downer. This is the most tragic of my favorite albums because of what it represents: the first great album of the 90’s and the last great Guns N’ Roses release.

Wu Tang Clan: Enter the Wu Tang (36 Chambers)
This was the first release from the Wu. It came out in 1993 and I had the cassette. This was when rap was good, but starting to get too focused on bling and hanging out. Also, rappers were polishing their albums to the point of slick, same soundingness. Then there was the Wu Tang. Nine different members with nine different voices and nine different styles of rapping. And for a kid 13 years old, how cool is it to talk about guys with names like Rza, Ghost Faced Killa and, of course, the one and only Ol’ Dirty Bastard- god bless. They used samples from old Hong Kong action movies and it added so much to their music and the feel of the album. Everything felt so prophetic. Plus, you never got bored because there were 9 different people who could jump in at any time. To give you an idea of how attached to this album I was, I had every song memorized word for word. I had their vocal intonations down. God damn I was White. This album made me respect Black people and their culture. See, I don’t consider rappers like Puff Daddy and Ludacris and any of the other popular ones out there today Black people. They are Celebrities. There’s nothing real about them or creative about their music. But the Wu’s first album was so real. So gritty. They were Black people talking about friends of theirs that had died, who they had to do to survive growing up on Staten Island which isn’t very different from shit that’s out today, but it was a lot more sincere back then. They didn’t need to fucking sample a Sting song to express sadness, they used their voices as empathetic tools, not celebrities listing the makes of their BMW’s and the type of champagne they like to spit on naked women. I heard the Wu Tang and thought, this takes so much effort and ability, these are some of the most talented people I have ever known of. Anyway, like most artists, they went downhill from here. Before they put out their second album in 1997, pretty much every one of them released a solo album. None of them were very good save Method Man’s and ODB’s. And you can really only listen to ODB for so long before you realize he’s serious and get freaked out. The second album was a double album and had some cool stuff on it, but it also showed indications of the Typical seeping in. The third album was pointless and the fourth even more so. By the fourth, ODB was in jail and the Wu Tang without Big Baby Jesus is like Depeche Mode without Personal Jesus or Christianity without Regular Jesus. Oh well. At least we’ll always have Enter the Wu Tang.

Cake
These guys are so formulaic, you could compile a mix CD consisting of tracks from all five of their albums (released in 1994, 1996,1998, 2001 and 2004) and not be able to tell which was which or even that the songs were from different albums. Why the pissy shit would someone like me who likes albums and bands such as those listed above like something so predictable and unchanging? Quite simply because these guys know what they’re doing and I like what they’re doing. On almost every one of their sixty-two songs, you will find acoustic guitar, electric guitar, a trumpet hook, smart, cynical, allegorical lyrics and an unenthused John McCrea singing/speaking/reciting them. On about half you might find a drum machine beat and a distinct feeling of “almost Country” that aspect of Beck’s Sea Change possess, but all in all you will think that Cake put out a five disc set with slight variations to the aforementioned formula. But the formula doesn’t stop there… each album has one “out of character song” namely Mr. Mastodon Farm (first album), Race Car Ya Yas (second album), Cool Blue Reason (third album), Comfort Eagle (fourth album) and End of the Movie (fifth album). Each album has an “accessible to everyone” track that is usually released as a single. Each album has a sad, “leave you feeling down” song at the end and each album title seems to have something in common with the others, but I have yet to put my finger on it. Something on a subconscious level: Motorcade of Generosity, Fashion Nugget, Prolonging the Magic, Comfort Eagle and Pressure Chief Only true fans can determine what each song is within the first 10 seconds and believe me it is a lot harder than it seems. Also, Cake is perfect driving music. 90% of their tracks go perfectly with the turning wheels of a motor vehicle, although a semi-trailer or pick up truck are the types of vehicles that pop into my head. The band just seems to have so much disdain to share with the world it’s a wonder they have any fans at all. The perfect Cake song that really sews them up, quirky, sarcastic, disdain for American society, tounge-in-cheekedness and all is called “Wheels”. It’s the first track of their brand new album.

In a wooden boat in the shipping lanes with the freighters towering over me
I can hear the jets flying overhead making lines across the darkening sky
And when the sun is going down I can take a taxi into town
And the waiter at the restaurant sets a table just for one

Wheels keep on spinning round spinning round spinning round
Wheels keep on spinning round spinning round and round

So I hired a plane to take me to a place so far away from you
Eventually we began to see that we could be completely free
And I could get away from you and you could get away from me
And we could live each separately in our cities in the sun

Wheels keep on spinning round spinning round spinning round
Wheels keep on spinning round spinning round and round

In a seedy karaoke bar by the banks of the mighty Bosporus
Is a Japanese man in a business suit singing ”Smoke Gets in Your Eyes”
And the muscular cyborg German dudes dance with sexy French Canadians
While the overweight Americans wear their patriotic jumpsuits

Wheels keep on spinning round spinning round spinning round
Wheels keep on spinning round spinning round and round

(I don't know)
Why you say you are not in love with me
(I don't know)
Why you say you are not in love with me
(I don't know)
Why you say you are not in love with me

So to the point, I have no favorite Cake album, so I’m going to pretend they did release a five disc set spanning their whole career, call it “Smarm”, that’s my favorite Cake album. To finish up with Cake, I recall the very first interview conducted with them around the release of the first album over ten years ago. The lead singer said something that also describes them perfectly and still holds true today. . John McCrea (lead singer) looks right into the camera and says, “We’re here to make sure bands stop having fun.” He wasn’t smiling.

eels: Electro Shock Blues
This was a tough one. Eels has five albums and three of them were up for favorite, but I had to go with this one. First off, eels is actually one man with a pretty constant drummer and other musicians he gets to play this and that. The lead singer and songwriter is Mark Oliver Everett III also known as E. His father, Dr. Hugh Everett III, was a quantum physicist who authored "Everett's Many Worlds Theory" in the 1950's, Everett inspired countless science fiction books, movies and Star Trek episodes with the concept of parallel universes. As a young teenager he traded letters with Albert Einstein, debating whether it was something random or unifying that held the universe together. He was a certified genius. Long story short…E began writing songs when he was about 6. When he was older to he moved to L.A. and worked shitty jobs during the day while writing songs during the night. He did this for seven years. Eventually he got someone to hear a demo and put out a solo album in the early 90’s. He put out another after that then met Butch, the drummer for eels. Anyway, this album “Electro Shock Blues” is centered on the events of basically everyone in his life dying. He found his father dead, his sister killed herself and his mother died of lung cancer. This album is the saddest and most sincere thing I have ever heard. Yeah Trent Reznor feels the pain of the world in his blood or whatever, but E’s entire family dies and he’s left to deal with it. So he does by writing this album. The first track is called “Elizabeth on the Bathroom Floor” and has lyrics like “laying on the bathroom floor/kitty licks my cheek once more/and i could try but waking up is harder when you wanna die

My name is Elizabeth
My life is shit and piss

The album also has songs like “Baby Genius” that addresses his father and the pressure he felt being a genius and the pressure E felt having to live up to that and “Dead of Winter” which is about his mother and her cancer.

so i know you're going pretty soon
radiation sore throat got your tongue
magic markers tattoo you
and show it where to aim
and strangers break their promises
you won't feel any
you won't feel any pain.

Aside from songs about his family there are also songs about his mindset and reaction to everything. The impressive thing about this album is it isn’t just E standing there crying the whole time. There are barbs of satire and humor throughout it. And, the final track, after all the tears are dry and you feel like joining Elizabeth on the bathroom floor, E’s includes a song called “P.S. You Rock My World” that opens with the line “I was at a funeral the day I realized I wanted to spend my life with you” and the whole masterpiece ends with the hopeful line “maybe it’s time to live” showing that even though these terrible things happened to him, he found a away to go on and thrive in the face of blah blah blah. It’s really less sappy if you listen to it.

CLOSURE! (part 4)

David Bowie: The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars
Ziggy Stardust is one of my favorites because it is the first concept album I heard and liked (an uninteresting side note: the first concept album I heard that I didn’t like was Pink Floyd’s ‘The Wall’, too much concept, not enough music). This album was David Bowie taking on the persona of Ziggy Stardust; an alien who forms a band called the Spiders from Mars, becomes a rock and roll superstar and then self destructs (not literally). Not only is almost every song amazing, but the story it tells is completely unique and even though each song is part of a larger whole, they can all stand on their own excellent works. Another cherry aspect of this album is its ability to be timeless. At any point in time, it is consistently better than almost anything else popular at the moment. The first track ‘Five Years’ sets up the story of the album: the Earth has five years before it dies (for some reason or other). Then in ‘Starman’, a ‘visitor’ is seen in the sky; perhaps he is sent to save the Earth. ‘Lady Stardust’ tells the story of Ziggy trying to fit in on Earth, trying to become a singer. ‘Star’ further outlines his journey and decision towards stardom. ‘Ziggy Stardust’ is the band Ziggy Stardust & the Spiders from Mars performing an autobiographical piece. Eventually, the band gets too famous and, like I said, self destruct (metaphorically). That ending is depicted in the last track ‘Rock N’ Roll Suicide’. Aside from the songs that contribute directly to the narrative, there are some unforgettable Bowie tracks such as ‘Moonage Daydream’, ‘Hang Onto Yourself’ and ‘Soul Love’ (which has a beat and a sax that just make me pregnant) that continue to rock after three fucking decades. Historically, it is one of Bowie’s defining moments/albums that earned him about 40 to 45 percent of his four hundred billion fans. Musically, it’s like a lot of early Bowie; good solid British 70’s rock, but with strings behind everything doing an amazing job emphasizing, accentuating and further explaining what the lyrics, guitars, drums and keyboards cannot. This album is one of the main reasons that Bowie is cool on such a galactic scale. Another reason is his huge “dance belt” from Labyrinth. If I had watched that movie like 4 more times as a kid I would be sucking dick right now.

Prince: Purple Rain
See the problem with Prince is that he has a lot of excellent songs but none of them are on the same album. Everyone owes the Hits discs one and two, but seldom do you see people owning more than one of Prince’s thirty plus albums, and that’s understandable. Yes, I said it. 70% of all Prince albums, on average, are unlistenable. Once he became the symbol, that percentage goes up to 95. However, even if it’s unlistenable, it’s goddamn sexy whatever it is. Back to what I was saying, I think one of the only albums of his that goes against the numbers is the Purple Rain soundtrack. It’s all original material recorded for the movie, so it’s not a “best of” or anything like it. It is pure sex on disc. Although all the songs are great, the highlights include “The Beautiful Ones”, “Darling Nikki and the title track. The other songs all kick ass and provide good music, but these songs are total unbridled emotional expression. Sometimes I feel that lyrics get in the way of the true meaning of a song and that’s why I appreciate a nice instrumental from time to time, but Prince has lyrics and pure expression in these three particular songs. "Darling Nikki" is a clear expression of lust and loss. When he starts screaming at the end, you feel the echoes of his orgasms from the night before and how sad it is to have lost that. "The Beautiful Ones" is his lovescream. The lyrics:

Do u want him?
Or do u want me?
Cause I want u
Said I want u
Tell me, babe
Do u want me?
I gotta know, I gotta know
Do u want me?
Baby, baby, baby
Listen 2 me
I may not know where I'm going (babe)
I said I may not know what I need
One thing, one thing's 4 certain baby
I know what I want, yeah
and if it please u baby
please u, baby
I'm begging down on my knees
I want u
Yes I do
Baby, baby, baby, baby
I want you

Yes I do

Nothing special, right? Right, on paper. But you hear the emotion in his voice and you feel these words rather than hear them. Then Purple Rain: a sad song with just his lyrics and the melody, but as soon as he starts crooning at the end, all the words drop away and we see the real Prince, baring his soul. Along with these super-meaningful powerful songs are the usual Prince superfuck songs. One (Let’s Go Crazy) which advises us to “look for that purple banana before they put us in the truck”. How can anyone deny the importance of these words? Still as true today as they were when they were written. Lastly, if you can’t get laid to this album, you should have been aborted and I suggest you rectify that mistake now.

Scissor Sisters: Scissor Sisters
 Almost every one of their songs just oozes pure unbridled sexuality, or in some cases, it oozes almost unbridled sexuality, which, in a way is almost sexier. I first heard of Scissor Sisters when Christina’s brother’s friend’s whoever-the-fuck, the radio DJ, said they were great. He also said they were Franz Ferdinand. So, I downloaded the Franz Ferdinand album. It sucked and my faith in some person who I didn’t know was shattered. Eventually, it was discovered that he had confused the two because the big single for FF was ‘Take Me Out’ and the big single for SS was ‘Take Your Mama (also thought of as ‘Take Your Mama Out’). An honest mistake. Anyhoo, my first exposure to Scissor Sisters (for real) was to see their video for ‘Take Your Mama’. It changed my life. The band consists of five members, Del Marquis, Paddy Boom (drummer), Baby Daddy, Ms. Ana Matronic and Jake Shears (lead vocals). They all have such personalities that listening to them takes on a whole new dimension. The vocals/lyrics are slightly Beck, slightly Prince and mostly saturated in warm sex. Since I love Beck, Prince and warm sex, this was the band for me. Musically, I think what does it for me is the same thing that makes Guns N’ Roses ‘Illusion II’ do it for me, the use of pianos in a non-piano setting. They are super fun and you wouldn’t expect to hear a piano here, but sure enough: pianos abound. Their breakout hit in the UK (where they are considered Gods) is a glam dance cover of Pink Floyd’s ‘Comfortably Numb’. It sounds like a mix of Floyd and Bee Gees. The song ‘Filthy Gorgeous’ is another favorite. The song has an irresistible disco beat that makes you want to tear your clothes off and fuck things. With lyrics like “I’m a classy honey kissy huggy lovey dovey ghetto princess” and “You’re an acid junkie college flunky dirty puppy daddy bastard” sung in an endearing falsetto, you can’t help but grizzoove. There are also a few heartfelt tracks on the album. “Mary” and “It Can’t Come Quickly Enough” are slower, but they still reek of sour sexy sweat. The final track on the album is called ‘Return to Oz” and addresses Frank L. Baum, the Return to Oz movie and it also references characters from “The Dark Crystal” while managing NOT to sound stupid. In that song there is also a guitar solo or two that would make Pink Floyd call their lawyers to check out precedents in “Guitar Solo Copyright Infringement” cases. They have a DVD coming out in January (fuck you, Will) that has a concert of theirs along with all their videos, which are also fantastic. In a nutshell, pretty much every song on the album would fit right in on an episode of “Queer As Folk”.

Red Hot Chili Peppers: One Hot Minute
This is more of a favorite from my past, but it’s still a favorite and I still love it. And this is the fucking Department of Redundancy Department Organization I’m an idiot. This album marks the first time RHCP broke the mold with their music. After OHM they continued to break the mold and I haven’t liked an album since. This album is special. Except for “Warped”. “Warped” is not special. “Warped” is a radio single, pure and simple. But the rest is great. This album has elements of spoken words scattered among the crazy fuck bass the flea specializes in and the heroin fueled guitar of Dave Navarro. The melodies on the whole thing are really tight and memorable. “Pea”, the Flea solo song, is amazing and his truculent little voice just brings new meaning to “I don’t have a lot of reasons to list why I like this album I just do so fuck you.” Children singing on “Aeroplane”: Awesome. Melody for “My Friends”: Awesome. Lyric from “Coffee Shop”: Meet me at the coffee shop/We can dance like Iggy Pop: Awesome. Everything about “Pea”: Awesome. Super funk I “Walkabout”, the tearjerking powers of “Tearjerker”, the rest of the album: Awesome.

Johnny Cash: The Man Comes Around
I hate country music. I am as physically angered by it as I am physically aroused by Prince music. Country music gives me a hate-on. The rest of the time it leaves me stricken with bowel-shattering diarrhea. So why in the piss-stained socks do I have a Johnny Cash album on my thing here? I believe that Cash WAS country and CAN be country, but also that he can transcend country. This album, with the exceptions of two or three tracks towards the end, is that transcendent type of Cash music. As you might know, Cash died soon after putting this album out and by listening to the way he says “weary” (see entry) I can imagine he was happy to go. Before he died, his wife killed herself. Cash then went to producer Rick Rubin (who had done his last three or so albums) and said that if he didn’t start recording music twenty-four hours a day, he would follow suit. That’s the mindset he was in when he did this album. This is the perfect “I Am About to Die” album. Every track has such weariness and feeling behind it that he is able to make such incredibly well-known songs such as the Beatles “In My Life” and Depeche Mode’s painfully overcovered “Personal Jesus” completely his own. As far as the spiritual/traditional songs like “Bridge Over Troubled Waters” and “Danny Boy” he also brings new “life” to them and by “life” I mean “I wonder how this song would sound sung by a dead body”. His original title track is terrifyingly apocalyptic and I can picture him just reciting into a tape recorder what he sees when he closes his eyes, the whole “pale rider and his name was Death” bit. He redefines Nine Inch Nails’ “Hurt” and in case you haven’t seen the Mark Romanek video for “Hurt”, you don’t know what it’s like to actually see death on film. But this album isn’t all sadness and death. On “Sam Hall” I can’t stop laughing at the cantankerous old bastard Cash portrays. The final track “We’ll Meet Again” is one of the saddest songs ever recorded. Johnny Cash and his whole surviving family singing this cheerful lil’ ditty in an off key Disney-esque manner is enough to make anyone break down into convulsive sobs, especially after listening to the rest of the album with its heart stabbers “Hurt”, “Give My Love To Rose”, Bridge”, “In My Life” etc.

In case anyone is still bored or has even more time on their hands, here are some links to some of the bands above (don't worry, no mufftorrents here...):
Beck
Cake
eels
Marilyn Manson
Nine Inch Nails
Scissor Sisters
They Might Be Giants

and again and

******
56 times per minute
3360 times per hour
26,880 total in 8 hours

I want you to think of those numbers. Think of something you would not like to experience 56 times a minute for 8 hours, nothing outrageous or life altering, just something repetitive and annoying. I’m really in no mood to beat around the bush, imagistically speaking.
When I came into work tonight, the duplicitous smilestab bitch Debbie (Will, think Dorcas meets Janus) lets me know that a panel has “gone out”. She’s a bit of a tard, so I smile and nod and roll my eyes. Tardo the Dumpyy was right. A panel had indeed “gone out”. For all you lay people out there, allow me to translate this indecipherable codex….

56 times per minute
3360 times per hour
26,880 total in 8 hours

beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep

That wasn’t so tough to read, now was it? Shucks, you probably didn’t even read the whole thing, did you? Heck, assuming you know me and my sense of humor and my style of hyperbole and my love of reshaping reality to my own height standards, you most likely aren’t even reading this. You inflamed, pus-filled vaginas.
I’ve passed my 10,000th beep about 35 minute ago and, to be perfectly honest, it’s not really bugging me, wasn’t ever really really bugging me. But…it is odd. Think of a clock tha, instead of ticking quietly, beeped to mark the passing seconds. At this very instant, the idle cursor is blinking in time with the noise. Sometimes (as I will start doing around 5:30 in the morning or so) I will start to hum songs to myself using the beeping as a sort of metronome. Hey, Will, maybe, if we include the Hospital in the movie, we could use the beeping to start a song or something? Very “Dancer in the Dark”.

56 times per minute
3360 times per hour
26,880 total in 8 hours

It’s like that song from Rent, but without the Gay AIDS.

If I just sit and let my eyes lose focus, I begin to hear the tonal value of the Beeps. I listen closely, I believe that tone is changing. If I close my eyes and let the Beeps inside of my self, I can actually hear them bouncing off objects around the room. A step further, I can hear the air itself being affected by its interaction with the Beeps.
It’s so binary.
Okay, I just wanted to get that out there.

56 times per minute
3360 times per hour
26,880 total in 8 hours

11,581
11,582
11,583
******
So I arrive home at around 7ish in the AM, and then, being myself, I scan through the dozen or so web sites I check and I came across an update to a They Might Be Giants' site. If you people want to feel stupid, then smart, go here--> http://www.nextbigthing.org/stream/ram.py?file=nbt/tnbt011405d.ra
Here's a hint, you will learn three new words: contrecoup (really cool definition), limerent (so-so definition, more complicated thah it should be, but that's what the dictionary is for) and craniosophic (very mysterious definition). I was very excited for two reasons: First, I love obscure words (not the well-known obscure ones either) and second, if TMBG keeps writing songs like this, they will quickly reisolate all the teenagers that found them because of Malcom in the Middle. And now I sleep.

Just me and the Biz

Aside from having the Black Death, this has been an EXCELLENT day. I talked to the producer of the French Cookie commercial and got updated on that, I talked to the director of the Fuse promos and not only did he tell me they will be on Fuse in about two weeks, but that he will send me a copy of all the spots AND then he gave me a link to the rough cuts which I cannot put up here, but I have them on my PC if you're that interested...Kaitlyn. I also talked to the head cheese at the place I recorded the Scholastic vo and I should be getting a copy of that soon. Then, out of fucking blue nowhere, I get a call from the writer of Women of Athens. We are doing a FOURTH run of the show at the Producer's Club on 45th and 9th from April 7th to April 24th. I AM OFFICIALLY OFF-BROADWAY!! WOO! To celebrate the next step up the ladder of Super God Stardom, I will be going to Wales. Four words, people: Bangers, Mash, and Spotted Dick.
Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa, but it bears repeating: Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa. Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa Also, most of you know/have been invited to my Bizzy Dizzy party on Saturday, January 22nd at Pizzeria Uno on 86th between 2nd and 3rd/Eastside Billiards on 86th between 3rd and Lex/ mi casa

Did you know there's an obelisk in Central Park?

To quote Li'l Kim: Hey! Uhn uhn uhn uhn uhn uhn uhn uhn!

In case you couldn't glean from the precise emotions expressed in the above quote, allow me to translate: I just booked a Fuse promo (Fuse was to be MTV's nemesis until MTV bought them) in which I will be a "Goth". I can only assume they mean the music-genre-listener stereotype and not the style of architecture, although I am indeed versatile enough to play both...at the same time...AND I'm modest enough to admit it. FINALLY I have something to celebrate at Christmas, thanks Jesus!!
Actually, should I really be thanking Jesus? I mean, I feel like ever since I portrayed Satan, things have been going my way...and I really didn't read that Shark Week contract very closely. Fuck. Well, I guess I really am driving the bus to Hell. Hope you guys like Tiny Tim and me screaming.

Hey, yeah, that "Which Friends character are you?" quiz is pretty intellectual...

Moron.


You are mRNA. You're brilliant, full of important,
interesting information and you're a great
friend to the people you care about. You may
have sides to you that no one understands. But
while you understand more than most people,
you're only half-there most of the time.


Which Biological Molecule Are You?

I'll Be Your Dogwalker

Working on a tune for the upcoming film "Tall Like Paul", here's what I have so far:
I'll be your dogwalker
if you let me

This isn't a metaphor I really mean it
I'll walk your poodle, chow or pit
And I won't use the dog to start a conversation
I'm not looking for love this is just my vocation
I'm a dogwalker

Whether the weather is snowing or the wind it is blowing
I will walk your dog
That's if the snow doesn't bug me and the dog doesn't tug me
I will walk your dog

(Just kidding, I'll do it anyway)

If you let me into your heart and house
I'll make sure the dog does not get out
and hit by a car
********************
That's what I'm working with at the moment. I have music for all this so far. Think bongos and a happy snappy cute tune that will make people think I'm not as tall as I am.

Also, keep January 22nd fucking open goddamn it. There's party to be had. For my Birthday (which God has so callously arranged to fall on a Tuesday this year) I am having those I consider lovesexy to Pizzeria Uno's (86th and Lex.) for food and drink and then to the pool hall (86th and Lex.) for pool and games and then to my home (not 86th and Lex.) for loud music and angry neighbors. And just so you don't get the wrong idea, here is a list of people who are not lovesexy, but are still invited, and the reason they are invited.

Katy Gentile
(for use as canvas- if drunk and bukaki- if really drunk)

-because although there wll be no drawing on people for her Birthday, I can assure you anyone that passes out at my party will be drawn on and recieve an extra helping of sodomy at the hands and bone of our local homeless man, Toothless Jose, who will gladly put his brown disease into anyone we ask him to. I will NOT be drinking Tequila at this party (for in depth reasoning click here), so no Tequila, please, thank you.

Today I watched ducks and sang out loud on the subway. I also passsed over a bridge, but that's not as important.

Je ne suis pas le fromage très grand, je suis le petit écolier

Oui, it's true. I have been "le fromage tres grand" for years until just recently when I was told by my agent that I am in fact "le petit ecolier". So we all know Nabisco (Lorna Doone, Oreo, etc.). Well the French version (as in the most common in France) is a company called Lu Biscuit (pronounced "BIS-qweet") or, for short, Lu. There is a brand of cookie they have called "Le Petit Ecolier" (which means "the little schoolboy"). They are a small shortbread rectangle with a portrait (in chocolate) of a little school boy on it. ANYWAY, about a week ago, I went to an audition where I played one of these cookies. Yes a talking French cookie with a thick French accent and lascivious manner and now...well, look at the subject.
An interesting side note, on the side of the box of Le Petit Ecolier" there is the phrase "Whenever you need one there is always a luscious le petit ecolier to satisfy you". Well world, if you thought you were feeling satisfaction before...you are about to ingest the whole lovesexiness of the Paulitosphere. Open wide, you grimy dandelos for I shall be your little school boy and you will choke upon my girth.

I found myself on the subway today staring at the word "Guadalajara".

Gonna ram it ram it ram it ram it up your poop chute...

So I have extracted some jewels and put them in the "Memories" section. Do you remember the things I used to live with? If not you should check out the "Memories" section. Fucking shit.

Sex Nazis

A few years back, the Nazis, or as I like to call them "bad Germans", were running around persecuting and killing gays and gypsies and other biologically inferior groups. That was bad...at least for gays and gypsies and other human dirt that wasn't spawned from the sacred union of the Tiger and the Turtle. Anyhoo, once Mr. Moustache killed himself, there was a calm that, while it was pleasant, was sure to break someday. Well...that day has come. I have here two startling images being circulated by Neo Nazi factions now springing up all over modern day Germany.


Now, at first glance, these look like simple candy wrappers, but once you delve into the twisted, rotting brain case of the Neo Nazi figurehead (one Beverly Parkerschlitz) you begin to see that these are but the merest wisps of insane cotton in the Neo Nazi tapestry of malevolent megalomanical madness. Now, after almost four thousand years, their reign of terror has begun again. While the first Nazis, or Old School Nazis as I like to call them, persecuted those that were different in favor of the blond haired, blue eyed supermen they were trying to spread throughout the world, this time around they have learned from their mistakes and have "flipped the script" on us, one might say. By analyzing these pictures one understands that this time the Nazis are going for the opposite: a world SO tolerant and SO free that even fruits are encouraged to have sexual relations and form new types of fruit through their unholy sweet congress. Once they have blanketed the world with images like these: pigs and peppers, benches and peanut butter, sand and fax machines, blacks and whites, grapes and clams, bears and pasta, Madison and her own offspring, fish and chips (the American chips, not the British ones) the world will be defenseless against the Neo Nazis and ripe for the plucking. This is not the unstoppable killing machine we were once dealing with, no. This is megajuxtopostioning, ultramixology and uberkonfusion. The enemy no longer uses nerve gas and the entirely ugly and angry sounding German language; this time they are using silly string and made up languages like Pig Latin and Puerto Rican. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the dawning of a terrible new age. The Neo Nazi Age of Befuddlement. In the coming years we can expect to see a gay woman as the King of America, an albino as the Emperor of Africa, a pineapple as the President of Australia...we will see President Bush and Harry Potter impaled upon the same pike, Nigel, hip and under a hundred and fifty pounds, Will will marry a girl that is not only in the same hemisphere or continent, but in the same house as he, Prince will do a song with a tree and then eat it, Michael Jackson will masturbate on children and no one will notice, airplanes will become sentient and learn to swim, Tom Jones will soil himself and a small desert, groundhogs will carry razor wire...once these things and more have come to pass, we shall know that the Nazi Age of Befuddlement has engulfed us. After ten thousand years of darkness, confusion and defenestration, all of existence will pause for just one moment and a single blade of grass will turn into Owl Boy and then He shall lead us to a bright, clean place. Until that moment though, we can expect things to get much much worse. So good luck and remember that your genitals may bleed of their own accord. Keep your hands in your pockets or the pockets of someone near you.

"Weary" defined

So I was out on an audition today and I decided to bring along Johnny Cash "The Man Comes Around" (his last album) with me because I couldn't remeber all the songs on it. He has a cover of "Bridge Over Troubled Water" with Fiona Apple. The first line is "when you're weary..."
To hear Cash say this word "weary" is to FEEL what that word means. Weary isn't, Oh geez, I've been up since 5am. When he says it, you feel every fucking second of his life. This man invented weary. Everyone was sad when Cash died, myself included, but to really HEAR him say the word weary, I felt better about him being dead. He's finally getting some rest. I imagine if someone could channel Cash and ask what he's feeling now or what he's thinking. I have an idea he would just sigh.
Aside from that song, there are a few other jewels on it. His cover of NIN's "Hurt" makes Trent Reznor sound like a five year old with a skinned knee and the last track, Cash and his whole family singing "We'll Meet Again" bring me to tears every time I hear it. There's a lot of other great stuff on it with only two or three REALLY country tracksm but hey that's why Jesus made track skipping buttons. So pick up Cash's "The Man Comes Around" if you are ever feeling too happy or think you've had a bad, tiring day or if you're just in need of some idea of what seventy one hard years on Earth feels like.

And now it's even sooner...

It’s 1:38 on 8/23
I think the “important thing” I mentioned earlier just happened. I just ate the best sandwich I’ve had in over ten years. Most of you have been to/ leered at in the deli on my corner. I have a “the usual” there. Pepper turkey, Munster cheese, lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise on a “hero” (a nine-inch white roll). It costs four dollars and is usually enough to stop me from bitching about being hungry. It’s a good sandwich. Not earth-shatteringly good, but good. Some days, very good. Some days not. Every once in a while I’ll get a roll that’s a little stale, some bitter lettuce or a bit of unripe tomato etc. nothing holocaustic and never anything squitterific. But today…oh my scrot and nipples…I had the mother of all sandwiches. It was like Doritos to a stoner, a cold beer to a sweaty redneck, erect black cock to Kaitlyn, Popeye’s biscuits to Jade, artsy vintage S&M clothes being given away by David Lynch, Dita Von Teese and Richard Kern to Christina…IT WAS LIKE EATING THE FECES OF GOD. And now it’s gone. In my tummy, soon to be poop clogging the toilet of my dunney hut. Sadly, this sandwich was a razor...and this razor was double-edged. One, by 4 PM I will have forgotten the bliss that was in my mouth and two, I know that I will never have a sandwich like that again. I should really kill myself now…whilst at the peak of happiness and not after I’ve had the first bite of my next sandwich…reminding me of how happy I was and will never be again.
That job does a number on me every time I go in. You should read the stuff I don’t post here. All plans for this weekend are canceled for me. Possibly the Kill Bill-a-thon will remain, but most likely not. Why? Oh ho, if I told you, then you’d know and then none of you would care…BWA HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!!!! Now kill them Owl Boy, while they are pondering!!!
Also, Denise thanks again for the graphics. You rizzule the schizzool.

Neapolitan

It’s 7:23 on 8/23
Today is to be an important day. Maybe not for me, but it will be for someone.
It’s my friend Kristin’s Birthday, her first as a married woman. She is the first friend of mine that’s gotten hitched and the last time I talked to her (the day after the wedding) she was gloriously happy so I guess that’s a start. I really dislike weddings. I find them boring and quite depressing.
There are really only two types:
First, the kind where two people meet, fall in love and get married within six months or a year or something. Then after a few months, one gets tired of the other (Since there are really only two types of relationships. 1. The one where you like the other person more than they like you and 2. the one where the other person likes you more than you like them. Some people think that’s bullshit, but really stop and think about it. Even though the shifts might occur several times a day (or even several times in the course of a conversation), and be so minute it seems 50/50, but it never actually is. And soon it’s 51/49, then 54/46 and so on and so on until it’s clear who’s who in the dynamic.) and they either learn stuff about each other that drives them slowly (or quickly) apart, or there’s some huge cataclysmic event that explodes the flimsy-in-today’s-cynical-society bond of marriage. One cheats on the other or turns to drinking or drugs, or the pre-existing problems are intensified and magnified by the sudden insular closeness of the marriage and the drift begins.
The second type of marriage (says the man who has been married five times to three women, written two book on the subject and been lecturing about it for four years) is the kind that happens after years of the people getting to know one another, dating, living together, making surethe other person isn’t a nympho, a crackhead/dealer, boozer etc. They get married and discovered that they know everything about each other. No surprises (or one enormous terrible surprise, like finding a fair collection of semen-stained Polaroids of children crying). Then the cute quirks of the one person become teeny tiny little nuisances and, over time, grow into huge, glaring, atrocious anomalies. Then everything falls apart.
And sitting in that church during that long and meaningless-to-too-many-people ceremony I think, while mouthing some response to an invocation made by the priest (standsitstandsitstandsit), “I wonder who likes who more”, “I wonder how long they knew each other before they got married”, “I wonder if the bride has the groom’s kid inside her right now”, “I wonder if I actually just saw the maid of honor/best man wink/smirk at the bride/groom”.
The wedding I went to about a week or so ago, I found out, cost my uncle (father of the bride) $45,000. By the by, he is the proud father of eight children, four married, four to go (one next June). $45,000. That’s about 2,250 DVD’s. 3,000 plus CD’s. That’s 75 months of rent at my place…and it was spent in three days.
But back to the ceremony…It’s true that the bride and groom often look dazzling/dashing (unless they are an ugly/fat couple who will inevitable spawn ugly/fat offspring), but, while sitting in the we’re-doing-this-more-for-our-parents-than-for-us ceremony, it isn’t too hard to picture the groom getting a boozy blowjob from the stripper that was hired for the bachelor party, nor is it hard to picture the nervous-as-hell bride who had a few to drown the butterflies in her stomach collapsed on the elegant bathroom floor, her $7,000 snow-white dress covered in champagne, bile and partially digested hors d'oeuvres, nor is it hard to picture the bride and groom looking dismayed in bed when they find that marriage doesn’t make the orgasm any better. Then again, I’m sure that it’s super special for all the virgins out there…all five of them.
Seriously, by the time the everybody-is-zoned-out-until-they-hear-the-words-“I do” ceremony I am crying. Why? Because I’ve seen this relationship wither and die in my mind before they’ve even put the a-year-of-my-salary rings on and the fucking wedding becomes more depressing than a funeral! In many ways, a wedding is a lot like a funeral. An emotional funeral, if you will. Or a Funeral for the Future for two special people. Every cloud has a silver lining, except the one that stretches from here to the horizon, on which sits a graveyard with two headstones…in the shapes of hearts.
From somewhere else in my head:
At about 6:34 this morning I was dressing for work. Got everything on but my shoes. I put them on, tied them…then stopped. Untied one, tied it again. Untied it once more, retied it. Then I did the same with the other. I recommend all those who read this (that’s FOUR! Count ‘em FOUR people!!) to do this the next time you are putting on shoes and have a moment to appreciate it. You’re fingers seem to have tiny brains in each tip, that’s great. You’re feet and therefore your whole self feels more secure, that’s great too. And finally, you can look down at your tied shoes and KNOW that you have accomplished something. No mater how the day turns out from this point on, you have accomplished SOMETHING. Sweet, sweet sassisfakshun!
And from yet elsewhere:
The “party” on Saturday. So Kaitlyn, Lisa, Becca, Jen, Natalia, Jade, myself, Todd and his friends showed up over the course of the evening. In all honesty, the high point of the evening was going up to the roof. I was gung ho about the shindig then I wasn’t, then I thought no one would come because the weather was shitty, then a few hours before the event, I was stoked, but which each guest arrived a creeping numbness when had consumed me wholly by the end of the evening. I went to bed feeling dismantled and reassembled improperly.
I’m looking forward to tomorrow, the final season of Futurama comes out on DVD. Then, next Tuesday, the final season of Invader Zim comes out on DVD. Then, eh, I’m sure I’ll find some square peg.
*************************************************************
I made the last entry in the second book of my journal last night or the day before. I’ve been writing in it since seventh grade and I haven’t really written anything worth reading over all that time. I mean, yes I have this on-line journal, but seriously, like I’d ever put the real true feelings about people, places and things here. People who do that are looking for attention or trying to say or do something in a roundabout way. It’s not hard to buy a spiral notebook and confide in that.

Welcome to the Machine

Here’s a(nother) glimpse of my inner churnings and bubblings…
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It’s 12:33 AM 8/19/04
There’s this security guard here, Arrington (or maybe Herrington) and he is FURIOUS.
The phone rings: “Man, what the fuck!!”, there is a knock at the door, “Shit, what the fuck!?”, Somebody asks him to hand them something, “Nigga, what the fuck?!”
Also, his back hurts. How do I know? I’m NOT…a doctor (but I am a real Worm….) But Mr. Arrington has this subtle manner in which he expresses himself.
Someone says, “What’s up?” “Man, my fuckin’ back hurse!!”, the same phone rings again, “Shit, my fuckin’ back hurse!!”, a panel starts beeping, “Nigga, my fuckin’ back hurse!!
Has he seen a doctor? No. Why? Because “if I see a doctor, they’ll take one look at it and give me muscle relaxants (Note: He did say “muscle relaxers”, but I respect the English language, even if we did turn “aluminium” into “aluminum”, “colour” into “color”, “night” into “nite" etc. It’s better than turning “hurts” into “hurse”, “You’d better leave that shit there” into “Ya bedda led dem shiz dare” and “Hey, what’s up?” into “Gloopy goopy glurp?” and so on… ).” Why hasn’t he gotten muscle relaxants? Because then he’ll have to see a doctor. He’s like a whiny broken record trapped in a Mobius strip. And I am in his orbit. It is pretty interesting though; big, burly black man puling like a bitch with cramps. I can only hope that his continued refusal to go to a doctor and get something to shut him up will result in his spinal cord snapping and him losing all use of his big, burly black cizzock. That’ll fix his wagon.
It’s 3:24 AM, 8/19/04
Walking back to the Hospital from my home, I was assaulted by thousands of crickets and the overwhelming scent of Nature. Walking between the black expanse of Central Park and the chthonic-lit castle-like Hospital is always strange and sometimes I sense a genuine presence behind me. Thinking about all the bad deaths this place has seen some post human unrest is to be expected. About a week of so ago, I accidentally heard a patients dying. A code was called late one night on the 6th floor of the Hospital building. The proper authorities were called to assist. A few minutes after the call, a light on my board went on and I asked if the resident needed assistance. I heard some strange noises , but no response. I asked again. More strange noises. Nothing but noises. I asked a third time and heard and angry young male voice yell “No! No assistance! Nothing-“ then the light went out. I wrote down the time in the log and double checked the room number. A moment later, we received the call that the code patient had died. I noted the time of death and the room number and realized that the room I had just heard from was the room in which, according to the doctor’s notes, the patient had just died. The button to call for assistance was hit by the attending doctor by accident allowing me to hear the last efforts of the doctors to save the patient and the patient’s last efforts to live. I was thinking about this as I walked back to the Hospital at 3ish in the morning. Directly in front of the entrance is a rock garden with a statue of the Virgin Mary. Swallowed up by the insectile soundscape, looking at the light of a Lovecraft monster on the Madonna, thinking about what I had witnessed a recently, I was unable to suppress a shudder. Did Jesus ever think that centuries after his death, statues of his mother would creep me out? Why the hell not? Hm.
5:53 AM
Huge major update!! Mr. Arrington just made a phone call to someone. In a nutshell he asked this person (whom he called at 5:51 in the morning) for some “little yellow pills, I don’t know the name” for his “twisted back.” He’s asking this mysterious drug-wielding stranger so he doesn’t have to “get a subscription.” I can only assume he meant “prescription.”
On an unrelated topic: I loathe those Wendy’s commercials with that fat fucking bastard. The TV commercials are bad but the radio spots are exponentially worse.
“The Bart, the.”
“Well, no one who speaks German could be evil.”
Are you still with me?
8/20/04 3:24 AM
It’s like I’m surrounded by three stupid parrots. Bilingual parrots that can’t speak any language correctly. And it strikes me: How can the nerve center of a huge health center in New York City have such inarticulate morons working here? What if there’s some huge disaster and someone needs a clear voice? Lives could be at stake because these people are too lazy to pronounce all twenty-six letters of the alphabet. THERE’S ONLY 26!! I was expected to know the capitals of all fifty states in fourth grade and I did a damn good job for someone who doesn’t use combinations of them to form words every single day! It’s like a stupid tumor killing my brain. Fortitude friend, fortitude…
So I get’s off work at 7 am as usual. I am awake at 11:40. Why? Did I set an alarm? Is there a dog in my bed? Is Jade confused and horny? No, no and maybe one or the other. Actually, there is a dragon farting right outside my window. Upon further investigation, it is a huge fucking crane carrying things from a flatbed on the ground to the roof. I started typing this stuff to wait for it to go away and now it is gone. I just wanted to let you all know that no matter where you live; nothing, NOTHING is worse than waking up to a dragon farting and then changing itself into a crane and lifting things up to my roof. Except living in Jersey. Now it is gone and I am going to back to sleep back to again. To back to.
But first, at 5:11 or so this morning, my phone rings and it’s Alan. From 5:11 to 6:30ish or so I talked with him about life, love, Jennifer Eccels, the price of teabagging in Chinese whorehouses, how “girth” in the new “width”, the Coriolis Effect and its effect on Jade, the same effect that it has on coconuts and some many things that might or night not have actually been discussed. Either way, it was one of the most surreal conversations I have ever held, mostly due to sleep deprivation but who knows for sure? If you do, please send a self-addressed stamped envelope to:

Please Kill Me, My Brain Is Bleeding
42 Axon-Stripped-of-Myelin Lane
Exposed Dendrite Township
Mobius Strip, 17230

I said hip hop a hippie a hippie to the hip hip hoppa you don't stop....

You never stop. Ever. This was a long weekend. A very long weekend. Lots of food. Too much food. Too much family. Christina hates Catholicism; I GET IT. Working late shift this week. Need to buy DVD's to watch. Bored. Need...something. Grape soda? Maybe. Will finish "Kickin'" video this week. Maybe. Four shots left/ Denise...where you at with the book thing? Going to drink grape soda. So I just found out today that TMBG is having TWO shows at Irving Plaza on October first (Friday) and second (Saturday). I was going to a Lovecraft thing at the Knitting Factory, but sorry H.P. you're dead, TMBG are alive...and Kickin' hahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahaha ahh ah shsdd ashf khflkhaliwerfrfuurf qlwkejrh wekrjh w hvvhvhhvh v v 8 8 8 7 8 7 h hdsdsidf dsf dsfhaberdasher

I'm in PA for a few days. NO RITUAL SUICIDES WITHOUT ME. If you make it past this weekend without killing yourself or being taken out by some colored individual, next Saturday evening there are tentative plans for crazyfun. And dickfish.

Feelin' mopey?

Of course you are! Your life sucks and you know it (Note: If you are pretending you don't know it, everything follwing is twelve times more sad)! You're stuck in a dead-end job with dead-end co-workers and when you're done wasting ANOTHER 8 HOURS OF YOUR ALREADY SAD LIFE, you go to some dive where other soulless zombies like you congregate to try and drink away the sadness and pain of your everyday lives! Then you go home to your overpriced and under lit shithole of an apartment where you try not to openly hate your likewise dead-end roommates that make you want to KILL YOURSELF!!! BUT THERE IS A SOLUTION!!! And it's right here... http://www.trevorvanmeter.com/flyguy/ You'll thank me in the morning if you aren't dead yet.
Also, the TMBG show is Friday at 7:30 at the Prospect Park Bandshell in Brooklyn, NY. You take the Q train from 14th street to Prospect Park. Doors are at 6:30 and although the show is free, there is a suggested donation that you don't have to pay. Bring a blanket and a lunch and show up early to spend some tme with the tallest and most Australian people you know! Religion will NOT be discussed. See you all there except for Kaitlyn and Jen who are hosebeasts.

Sokol Auditorium...Auditorium, Sokol Auditorium...Auditorium...PARTY INTHE NIGHTTIME!!!

Yeah, so tonight should rock. I called B.J. for the rules and guidelines for Fotch. Oh yes, Fotch. As fun to say as it is to play...
The plans that were rough have begun to show edges...namely:
1. A movie (most likely Kevin Smith in order to play a Kevin Smith Drinking Game)
2. Fotch.
3. Psychedelic light show.
Also, looks like me and 7 girls: Natalia, Jen, Ang, Jade, Lisa, Kaitlyn, Christina (9 if Jill and Beccah wear their ovaries on the outside and show up). Seriously, if I knew any straight guys that were in town I would invite them but all I got is Alan (in D.C.), Todd (in some abandoned TB hospital), Mike and GC (drunk already and in Brooklyn), Twevor (kind of a downer and shy to boot) and then there's Phil, Will and B.J., some of the most attractive, undersexed, hairy, swarthy, well-endowed, manliest men I know who are scattered all over the fucking globe. Meh, could be worse, all the girls coming over could be as mofugly as Kaitlyn. Count my blessings EVERY DAY.

I took Denny's quiz and failed. Tried to write my own and stopped after two mediocre questions. Had an EXCELLENT and undisturbed 8 hour sleep after I returned from work this morning. Happy dreams about some party in a large house. Lost of rooms, and a general feeling of happiness and good. Portable DVD player works like a charm for speeding the hours away at work. Looking around at the people I call friends recently I feel there is a lot of sad in the air and I wonder what in the hell is going on with the Great Magnet? Where is he pulling my friends and family? To what end. But one must not question its will. Speaking of Will, he is ending his tour in Tiny Land and will soon be returning to France then America (Magnet willing), maybe he'll move here? Hopefully yes. Now, I am waiting for the webmaster person from the TMBG live show download site to add some shows to my list. Can’t wait for the 30th. Going to rrrrrrrock.

Yes, my Gate Keeper

Soooooo......I'm plotting out a shot list for a video I'll be shooting with Chris and Jade for the TMBG song "It's Kickin' In". It will be very literal. In it, I will be wearing a suit, Jade will freak out and Christina will be disaffected. We will be scouting out YOUR homes and props for locations and stuff so be prepared. You'll get a credit in the vid and a hug...a naked one...from me. We'll need a nice bed (Christina Andrews...mmmmmyes?), some nice bookshelves (New York Public Library...mmmmmyes?), some blank spaces (Fordham University Studios...mmmmmmyes?), a classy resturant...hm, I was think of my roof for some reason, but then again, it is 2:41 AM. It will be done on Super 8 with some post production done on Pro Tools so it looks like the Canadian Comtemptist, Ross will be contacted. Should be fun and, if I don;t get distracted and forget about it, actually created. You know when I think of all the great ideas that I actually fleshed out somewhat and then just stopped, I feel a stab of anger and acid reflux in my guts. Firehead, my web site (which will have a new video ANY DAY NOW), my career as the Tallest Man in the World (I stopped well beneath the required height...) and a whole bunch of stuff that hasn't been touched in so long I've totally forgotten about it...man, to quote Ian Dury, what a waste.
And now, a note on Pepcid AC and Immondeum AD. First,, for those that don't know, Pepcid AC (Acid Control) is a medicine you can obtain over the counter that eliminated acid reflux and heartburn (which is actually acid reflux) by absorbing the excess stomach acid from your stomach and Immodeum (although I am spelling it wrong) AD (Anti-Diarrhea) is a medicine that can also be obtained over the counter that stops diarrhea and all shit for that matter from exiting your anus. For the record, they both work and pretty well, but they both have side effects that are closely linked... Pepcid reduces stomach acid which in turn means your food takes longer to digest and therefore longer to excrete and Immodeum (I don't know how exactly) stops you from shitting for a while, sometimes a few days even. Long story short, if you took both Pepcid and Immodeum, you wouldn't shite for about a week or so and when you did you would destroy the toilit. I've never tried this, but I have taken one or the other at one time or another and linking the side effects would be hilariously terrible. Good night.

Journal update!!!

UPDATE UPDATE!!! UPDATEY POO!! FERT! NUFF! TEAT! I think I'm going to get a portbale DVD player. The new TMBG album and EP are spectacular if not a tad on the short side. Life is good. Let's rocket.

I am now logged in...

And feelin' fiiiiine. Just in case anyone was wondering, Craig from TalentWorks...is a fucker and in about an hour, I will have to pander to him and act like he is my massa. Whatever, this is the life I choose and because of it eh, whatever.
So there is an Australian in my apartment. I'm trying to find out how or why she is here, but with that accent I can't make out one word in forty. Something about a "dag"? I have NO idea.
Why does today feel like a bad day? It might be a combination of things that never really happened. Dreams that result in a bad day. Very strange. Getting the urge to buy things again. DVD's...mmm...
Although I will HOLD OUT, I have already purchased the new TMBG album which should arrive in the mail next week, so I CANNOT buy things. Then again, why not? Because Paul, it gives you a false sense of accomplishment. Yes but, it gives me happiness and I live life to enjoy and be happy and if buying DVD's makes you happy, then what's the problem? Well, I don't know, I just feel like you're kind of fooling yourself into thinking 'hey, I left the apartment today and bought something, let's dance,' you know? There's more to life than buying things. Yes, true, BUT if DVD's (at least at this point in my life) create happiness for me then WHAT is the problem? We'll finish this later... That means you're going to hit me, right? Only if you're good. Oh, I'll be good. By which you mean... Bad, yes, by which I mean bad. Nice. Then again... Yes? What does it mean to be good or bad? Hm. Good question. How about this, after we discuss this first matter and after I hit you, we'll discuss that. Good idea. Hey, maybe we can buy a DVD? ...maybe...you big softy...
Bastille Day is soon and there shall be BRUNCH!

Lays...and ginnymin....

My Satan commercial is officially on the Discovery Channel. I have yet to see it and probably won;t because I don't have cable, BUT since this was a well put together production, I have the number of the guy to contact for a copy. I feel SO sexy.

Just found out that Shark Week starts Sunday, July 25th at 8pm. Peel your eyes til then for a glimpse of my sex.

Welcome to the Paulitosphere

I have this strange knack of being really easy to stay friends with. Allow me to elucidate...I haven't seen my friend Erin Sweet in years, but when I go to Florida and we hang out, it's like a saw her yesterday. Same thing with other friends from high school. Basically, no matter how long it's been since I last talked to them, the rapport we shared is almost instantly revived. It's like no matter how far away from them I am...I am always close to them.
Well, I had me a revelation. And would you be surprised to know is has to do with my height? NO. You would not.
Because my height is so...heighty and I am so tall, I have realized that I inhabit my own section of the Earth's atmosphere. It is called the Paulitosphere and it is the reason that even after years of not contacting someone I can immediately jump right back into the swing with them. Because I am always in the swing with everyone. Additionally, some guy recently achieved some sort of zero gravity in his private plane (this is a third hand account, from someone to Phil to me so it's a bit muddled...) during which time he opened a bag of M&M's and had them all floating around. He described this feeling as "touching the Face of God". What he did not know is that that was the Paulitosphere. So from this moment on, I shall be known as the Face of God.
I will now eat hot dogs for dinner.

Could this be me?

http://www.theonion.com/news/index.php?issue=4023&n=2&bypass=1

Ok, just to let y'all know; they have started running a Shark Week teaser (a clip of water and blood or something along those lines stating "Shark Week is coming") and after a quick check on the DC website, last year Shark Week started the first week of August. Look for my commercial after the 21st (Monday). Tape it if you can because I do not have cable and of course, let me know if you catch it. Yea.

Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name...

As promised, here are some shots from the set of the Shark Week commercial (NOTE: If you cannot see the pictures and a password thing pops up on your screen the username is "shark" as is the password). These were all taken on and around the set; a dilapidated amusement park on the Jersey shore. A few quick words about Asbury Park, New Jersey: It is a creepy, broken down little town that has about 600 people and 56 pizza joints. We stayed in a hotel built in 1924 that looked like something out of a Lovecraft tale. We saw the Stone Pony and all agreed that Springstein should have killed himself long ago. I was terrified from the moment I got there to the moment I left. Onto the shoot…
For some reason the director, Christian, wanted Satan to be dressed as a blinged out old school gangsta…maybe he hates Black people? Who’s to say?
First, this is the night before the shoot at this crazy restaurant called Insano’s. Why is it crazy? Because I asked the waitress for a burger, she paused and then responded with, “There’s really nothing on the menu even close to a burger.”

To my left is Michelle, who did costumes. We hit it off immediately. She reminded me of Katie from Wet Hot American Summer in like 15 years. To my right is Rick (a PA) then Keith and Craig, these guys were my makeup team. These are the only straight makeup artists in the world. That thing I’m holding was on the table. What you can’t see it the hearse parked right outside the window. Fucking creepy ass Jersey town…

The guy on the right is the director, Christian. Although you can’t see in any pictures of him, he has one of the largest lewd t-shirt collections in the tri-state area.

This is Christian and the producer, Jeff at 3 in the morning, drunk off their highly creative asses, getting ready to call it a night and get ready for this 5 am call time. Idiots.
This just one of the partially demolished buildings near where we shot.

Here are some shots of me getting Satanic.



My bling.


Now, most of you know to be pasty white. Or, as a certain swarthy Brazilian might say “fish belly white”. Yes. True. And I intended to keep it that way. Every moment I was not on camera, I had a PA named Zieda hold an umbrella over my pale, demonic self. Hey, that’s what PA’s are there for.


While I was on camera, I was doing beach things that were funny because they were out of character for Satan…I guess.




For some reason, there was a large wooden cross on the beach where we were shooting. Christian and I brainstormed for a few minutes about how we could encompass it into our chicanery. We thought maybe I could be laughing at it, pissing on it, nailed to it but eventually we decided to leave it out just in case some of the right wingers at the Discovery liked God.

And now…Soulmasta S. Diddy

If you will check the properties on this picture, you will notice that it is number 1666. Someone has a sense of humor…
Again, I don’t know when (if) this will be on the Discovery Channel, but when (if) I find out, I will let you know.
On another good/bad note, the long forgotten Baby Kermit the Frog talking doll is NOT being shipped to the U.S…except for the one they are sending me. I should be getting it at the end of June, beginning of July. Since there will be only this one, you will all have to come to my apartment to see it. For people like Lisa and Christina, that will not be a problem, but for people like Will and all my other friends in Thailand…you might have to take the train…

You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and then youhave my acting career thus far.

Good news/bad news time...bad news first...so, it slipped my mind until last night that my NBA commercial might never be shown. Why? Because the three teams mentioned in it are the Mavericks, the Oilers and the Kings. For those of you who know nothing about basketball, these three teams have one thing in common…none of them made it to the Finals this year and since my commercial is for the Finals…well, remember that headline about Dewey winning the Presidency? Yeah. So you’ll never see that on TV or ever since unreleased commercials are never shown for legal reasons that suck. Thanks, God.
Onto the good news…remember that Nike short film that I was convinced would never see the light of day? It has seen the light of day. Thanks, Satan. http://www.gawker.com/artofspeed/pages/015995.php#more (along the right side of the page is a list of the directors and their short films, mine is titled “One Muscle” and is directed by Greg Brunkalla).
I’m sure you’ll all notice I am credited as “Paul Gryet”…uh…yes, my new stage name, as none of you know, is Paul Gryet. So we’ll hear no more of it. And here is a sexy picture to make you wet.

Prince


Prince of Darkness
Anyway...I just got back from the shoot in Jersey today and it was mad fun. More details later, maybe.
Now...the NBA thing...it should be about 30 seconds and it is a parody of those "Best Of" CD's. Walt Frazier is in it, but it is not animated (there is another Walt Frazier commercial that is animated apparently). You should look for this on mainly TNT and ABC, although it should pop up on CBS, NBC and Fox. If you know what I look like, you will know me when you see me, there was no hair or makeup used.
The Shark Week/Satan thing will appear somewhere (definitely Discovery Channel) after June 21st. Check the Discovery Channel web site for Shark Week dates. I should have some pics from the shoot up soon and you can see how I have made the real Satan a total bitch.
And now...foody poos.

Don't player hate...player APPRECIATE

http://www.playerappreciate.com
Make sure to get y'alls Pimp Name

Long day. Tired to my bones. Here's something from before.
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Interesting Words
Tweed
Squiggle
Notch
Bag
Retch
Treble
Twinge
Twill
Jaw
Name
Dent
Seldom
Belch
Child
Tempt
Funk
Goat
Groove
Orgasm
Blubber
Technique
Lucid
Tactile
Silver
Licorice
Tuba
Fuck
Nozzle
Mud
Virus
Clammy
Motion
Zesty
Chester