If you are wearing a turtleneck and a backpack it's like a weak midget trying to bring you down.

Hours of depressing television last night, relentless I tell you, by one am they were outlining the way the world ends and by that time I wanted to say like elvis costello hurry-down-doomsday cause we're just one giant mess of genocide and drugs and fossil fuels and natural disasters but instead I started one of the david foster wallace short stories and I really like his tangents on nothing.
This is all to say that I have not smiled since around eight pm last night and maybe it's all that imagery or maybe it's because I was asked why I kept smiling and even if it was sarcasm maybe it was thrown around too haphazardly for me. Oh ok it's sandwich time.
Control Room was really informative, especially if you know very little about Al Jazeera.

what I have been up to when I have been up to things, as of late:











I'm young, ambitious, and hungry for tacos.

2004! The year that was!

Like keifer sutherland's hit drama 24 with two zeroes crammed in the middle, 2004 took place in real time, all actions occuring between the hours of 12am and 12am the following day. Except without that quad screen thing every fifteen seconds.

Oh man that totally reminds me of the year 2004- remember that whole brian mcparris/"rock night"/luckie st/giant bear/stairs fiasco? Remember? That was hilarious!
Wait no I'm thinking of something else. No, the aforementioned events actually seem like a really long disjointed film or book or something most of which is better left unsaid or hidden between vocabulary words. Or just looking for cigarettes at seven in the morning.

Yeah this year made less sense than jesus, statistically speaking.

thanks to the hindsight for giving me something to do instead of actual work...though I'm sure this has been done before, possibly to death.

Dehumidifier Sits In The TV Critic's Corner And Reports Her Findings

findings:

"Super Milk Chan" is kinda like if The Chipettes filmed a Hello Kitty store throwing up in your television, and then made you watch it over and over underscored by the "house" beat on your casio keyboard.

Tooom, I am lik-ing this ideeea...

(that was actually the rough outline for my new show which I will probably lose interest in developing* should a shiny object wander by)




*telophase, roughly.

my christmas picture to you:



it's like a little piece of christmas heaven come to life.

I am trying to think of any single little redeeming value that christmas could possibly have in store for me and I am finding that there ain't nothing at the bottom of the barrel except more stress and guilt, druck und schuld, druck und schuld.

So far my vacation has been anything but as I become my own worst version, and the real me watches from third-person.
I don't want any gifts you people, I don't want to buy you gifts I don't even know you well, I just want to sleep in and wake up and be normal and be like that for my vacation. And maybe eat a sandwich or go for a goddamn walk with any prospective dogs because I have the energy to, not forcing shit down staring at the wall with that dull dizzy headache and wondering why my credit card maxed out and wondering-

so yeah so far the highlight of the season has been this picture that kevin drew last night:



he claims it is his worst drawing ever but then he drew a turnip wearing a hat that was supposed to be santa.
in conclusion, he is now getting me a big bucket of nothing for christmas, minus the big bucket part.

I wonder whatever happened to The Frozen Embryos.

My guess it they are still trying to like












finish









a sentence or whatever






that they, like, um








started or something







in 1993



or you know, whatever

it's like living in the middle of an altoid.



The sun is dissappearing again and I don't know why it even bothers showing it's useless face this time of year. Last I checked it's only duty was to provide warmth and the fact that it takes a half hour to pile on enough clothes to smoke a cigarette tells me that the center of our solar system is one lazy motherfucker.


It had better be finished setting by the time I light up, otherwise I may have to spend the next several hours raging at the heavens.

Hey look everyone I have redesigned the latest Oprah book club book o' the month book cover!



I bet when oprah makes the movie version she changes the title to "Franny <3's Zooey".

"Franny less than three Zooey" will do moderately well at the box office, kinda like "I less than three Huckabees". Movies about math just don't have much draw I guess.

If you will please open your hymnals to page 43, as we ring in the season with the timeless "the baby jesus, it is for you this x-mas I wait in traffic it is for you i yell at this lexus SUV. sing out the glorious xmas tidings and your figgy pudding!"

this one celebrates the season.

I'm rarely pushed to resort to such drastic measures, but sometimes the brink hits and I have to go all Nicolas-Cage-In-Random-Nicholas-Cage-Action-Movie on said offender's hindquarters. Yeah I killed the oven. It was beeping every five seconds and I was forced to cut off it's main power supply, therefore rendering it officially lifeless. Resurrection will occur as soon as someone with longer arms than I can reach the plug. Bring your camera it will be magnificent I am sure of that. So sayeth I, and so it be mote.

With that little documentation behind us, let's barrel forwards headfirst right into a giant pile of generic holiday corporate spirit giftgivingfestoyotathonarama! Presents were stood in line with in anticipation of purchase! Money was given to both the vendor and the interest rate collective collection in exchange for goods! It was capitalism at it's finest and I have never felt so American in all of my life in this past year! America was truly at its most American. Hooray for Xmas. Hooray for the Baby Xsus.
Because you have managed to collectively fuck my financial stabillity this month, and in coming months. I hope it was goddamn mindblowing for you, cause I sure as hell want to blow someone's brains out.

Anywho. Content!

Here is the short list of presents making it to phase 3: giftwrap!

-Franny and Zooey recipient: mom. (triumphing over cheaper hardback oprah sale-shlock, though the odds of her reading it- thin, due to lack of plot summary/oprah endorsement)

-Infinite Jest recipient: stepmom(ther?). once I learned of her literate tendencies I began giving books as presents without so much as a glance back into wickerwonderland. much to her lack-of-realization, these books are slowly creeping into esoterica as the female lovelorn protagonists begin to wane. though this year's choice might have been too broad of a leap (from eggers? that one novel with all the twisty handwritten type on it? something else endorsed by critics at both spin and nylon?) it guarantees I will not have to buy her another present until the end of time because that is how long this book is it is eternal. how the hell else could i be on page one fifty for two months? HOW??!! the downside of this selection is that there are currently two copies of Infinite Jest coexisting in the same general square footage, which means other books are forced to vacate so as to make room. literary gentrification can be such a bitch.
esoterica. wane. protagonists. gentrification. oh i so went there.

-Classic Rock Stories recipient: dad. My father does not read fiction. I do not know why. And I just provided him with fascinating tidbits to share with fellow passengers every time a song like "Up On Cripple Creek" or "Needle and the Damage Done" comes on the car radio. or KRGR krogerradio. or your local dentist's waiting room radio. What the hell was I thinking.

-52 Activities for Jewish Holidays recipient: er'buddy. This is not a book, or a fragarent candle. It is instead a deck of cards with ways to make your Chaunnnnnukkah (sp?) (offensive?) (apologies?) as chock full of activity as it can possibly be. 52 cards and only 8 nights? You won't even have time to do the math! Oh, I am going to use these as gift tags or gift additions or probably forget I bought them all togethernow.

-The Mini-Bonsai Kit recipient: mom. Her bonsai is dead. This will be hilarious. For like a second. To someone.

-The Mini-Tarot Cards recipient: get it cause her bonsai is dead and this will like teach her for next time to just stick to ficus.

-The Atlas Of The Skies recipient: my brain. watch out stephen hawking. while you are guesting on the simpsons or sitting in that box in the parking garage at work telling everyone to PAY HERE BEFORE RETURNING TO YOUR VEHICLE I am becoming near astrophysical! oh yeah who's singing the body electric at the mensa table now!

-Faces of A Nation: The Rise And Fall Of The Soviet Union recipient: undetermined. But you damn well best believe someone is getting this bad boy. Because you are all commies and having this giant red book on your coffee table will make it easier for the Eisenhower administration to find you. See if you ever work in this town again. Just see.
I'll probably give this to my dad, it looks expensive.

-The Voice Of Reason: Essays In Objectivist Thought by Ayn Rand recipient: dad. not me. because I DO NOT LIKE AYN RAND. not because of her objectivist epimisimological tendencies. but because the cover of one of her books features atlas barely able to lift the world. why? because her TEN THOUSNAND POUND BOOK IS WEIGHING IT DOWN. Geez, if you're gonna ramble on for that long you could at least fail to have a coherent plot or even clear thematic elements. (magicmountainulyseesrememberanceofthingsididnotactuallyread)

-Simon and Garfunkel: The Concert In Central Park, the DVD recipient: well clearly not me since I am making that this-is-clearly-a-gift face at the cashier. i will tell you this- whoever gets this will be getting the gift of the funk. the garfunk.
(and don't think i won't say that when it is unleashed from its wrappings, that or garfunkore which i also made up like hardkore or emokore or hard kore emo.)

-Random Notebooks and Picture Albumy Things recipient: several people but primarily my wallet since my plan to print out a bunch of my photos at work, perform some adhesive magic and pass it off as a homemade present is yeah a pretty goddamn cheap gift.
which reminds me. scrapbookers. now there's a little slice of society best to avoid. seriously a hefty chunk of their disposible income is spent on that what are best classified as "nick-nacky sparkles"*.

-Photo paper recipient: color laserjet printer at work. it eats that shit like nobody's business and then three hours later spits it out. in full color glory! if only humanfolk were so easy to shop for...

-Oh wait that's all I bought today sorry I was distracted by all that wishful thinking about streamlining the christmas process.

And that was today.
Seriously. Ok, ok ok I got it:
JUST BE GLAD I DO NOT GO GROCERY SHOPPING. IMAGINE HOW LONG MY ENTRIES WOULD BE AS I USURPED EVERY BIT OF TANGENTAL SUBTEXT FROM EVERY LAST SNACK PACK.

Hmm..this does not feel finished.

Vocabulary Words (New): snack pack, scrapbookers, scrapbooking, scrapbookingers, garfunkore, garfunky, gargettingdownjustforthefunkelofit, epistimologicalization, proust (when dropped as a name), dirty commie bastard, oprah, giant fucking book, oven, baby jesus, kevin is playing some weird-ass version of classical gas.




*seriously dude these people keep puffy paint in business.



to the mall!

Coming This Fall From Disney/Miramax Classics:
"hey remember that time you were trying to remember that movie remember the titans? nope? ok"

Earlier this eve I wandered over to my local videodrome, having been inspired by the foriegn dvd section at borders and put off by the hefty criterion pricetags at the same time. Renting! I thought whilst eyeing such fare as "A Woman Est Un Anadalusia" and "La Dolce Vittorio Furioso Deus Ex Machinations Un Chien" (aka La Dolcho) and of course the Kurosawa section which has always seemed more intimidating than a grad student with a theory.

ASIDE- my mom just got a dvd player. i was looking for I Am The Curious (Yellow) because she told me her and my dad went to see it and it was such a big deal because it was banned in the states and did that shock me. No, but because it is foriegn yes. Wait, lemme back up with the reverse beeps- I was going through my "Eyes Wide Shut is way underrated/ Kubrick can do no wrong" phase and because she heard how supposedly "shocking" the movie is she decided to share her own filmgoing experiences. It went a little something like:
"Yellow. Yellow. It had something with a yellow. I'm yellow? I am the yellow? Does that sound familiar?"
"No. Are you absolutely sure you didn't hallucinate this? Electric lemon acid kool-aid test?"
"No, and you just now made up the last part of that sentence."
"Hey, I gotta do something until Remember the Titans ends."
"Yellow...yellow..."
"Number 9...Number 9...hey-remember-that-saturday-night-live-sketch-where-john-lennon-opened-a-fast-food-restaurant-and-was-all-like 'now-serving-number-9-number-9'."
"No you'te thinking of Yellow Submarine." (like anyone ever thinks of that movie when they are thinking about a movie)
"Old Yeller!" (even the song is annoying, right up there with all you need is love- shut up and write a second lyric- and lucy in the sky with diamonds yeah it's not a good trip when your song title insinuates you are singing about some drug called LITSWD)
"No of course not Old Yeller! That's a kids movie."
"Kids movie my ass it should be banned. They shoot the dog at the end! I dreaded watching that movie, and they kept showing it over and over! And then they finally drag out a new dog movie and it's Wheretheredferngrows and how does that end? With two dead dogs!"
"Don't say ass."
So I was looking for what I eventually found out was I Am The Curious (Yellow)- little did I know that this movie could be alphabetized under either "I Am The Curious (Yellow)", "Curious, I Am (Yellow)", "Yellow, (I Am The Curious)" "En Film I Gult" or Foreign Film, Russian (Norwegian, Slavic, etc.), directors, Sjoman, Curious series, yellow. (last method only applicable at videodrome, though slightly modified from my personal- hey a yellow cover- method.) But I wasn't yet at videodrome, and borders did not have it. ASIDE OVER

I believe I was actually in videodrome when I strayed, and now I am back. Metaphorically. I did not actually wander like over to buddys or something OBVIOUSLY.
Oh yeah and I have never seen a Cassavettes movie. All I know about him is he's either an allll-coholic. Genius! or a misoginist! or some other unintelligable stick up kathleen hanna's ass.

Ok finally "Remember the Clash of the Titans A.E." is over I can tell by that happy 60's song FINALLY.

I rented this French documentary on sound called "Listen" which John at the drome called "arty" (which is a ringing endorsement from him) and then to mix things up a bit I also rented "Hiroshima, Mon Amor" which has nothing to do with French OR art house.

But then kevin got sucked into remembering the titans. I think he is scared of Resnais. Rightfully so. I know several people who are still wandering lost around marienbad.

Just humor me I have to use this film minor for something.

hey remember the titans?

RATED R.
startsthisfridaycheckyourlocallistingservicenotavailableinallareaseestorefordetails.

Je Suis France (lite?!) at the 40 Watt in Athens






oh and this too:



(vintage dior sunglasses found for one dollar...yeah, thrifting.)

goodnight!

Oh, and also:

I think that I want some cake.



Cake!

I just wrote the following in an attempt to "street up" the first line of body copy, as directed by the client:

Get your texting skills ready, cause here's your chance to hang with Xzibit.
Got mad texting skills? Here's your chance to hang with Xzibit.
Wanna hang with Xzibit? Time to get your text on.
Wanna hang with Xzibit? Get your texting skills ready.

Yeah, cause nothing says authentic urban slang like...texting.




Can I crawl back into bed now? Thanks.




...from the "lookin' for a turbo" files.


Oh man, that song "Low Desert" kinda sounds like a rock song coming out of these here soundsticks. And by "kinda sounds like a rock song" I mean sounds different from ever before. Not like I listen to new adventures a whole whole lot. Ok now I'm rambling.
Damn, these soundsticks are magical.

Grab the rifle granny, it's FEUDING TIME...apparently.

And since I failed to pencil "deal with baggage" into today's schedule, I very much need to get back to the business of real life. Concepts due EOD as fucking usual.

Meanwhile, in a suburb not too far away, an unsuspecting tween forks out eighteen bucks for this album. It is at that moment when the third seal is broken.

I am supposed to be writing even more ads featuring this whole hip hop supastar xzibit extravaganza, but I am finding it rather difficult to concentrate. I feel like back in college or high school even (like I can remember that far back) when I waited until sunday evening to start studying for monday morning's test. Granted this is much much easier, but I'm a little distracted by the fact that I've yet to find out whether kevin is alive or has gone by way of improper chainsaw usage. Or even back in town for that matter.
What a crap weekend. No money to go out with, not even enough to eat with, sleeping or staring at a wall by myself, chainsmoking, feeling physically ill due to various factors, shuffling from place to place, feeling like I don't even factor in. I can't believe I have to write hiphop headlines.

Something of mine had better get pimped as a result of this, is all I'm saying.

I am approaching overdrawn. I am also living like a hitman.




"You're gonna have to come with me to the bar and order that yourself, cause there's no way I'm asking for a 'dirty martini'."





It's not really driving if you're just sitting there.




I'm leaving the internet now to take a shower, and then see what's what.

I wonder which member of the Rolling Stones Johnny Depp channeled for this one...

Charlie and The Chocolate Factory- Burton edition.

Oh Tim Burton you never fail to mildly entertain me in that way that is not offensive but not really scary either!

God, what a shit morning. Details, details, no details. It's not worth complaining about- there's already too much bullshit on the internet.

Instead I will invite everyone to enjoy this delightful short film starring Mr. T. It involves a certain dance sensation referred to simply as "Jeff".

Here is where you click to witness some feets of fury.



(my boss just called me into his office and told me i needed to "dumb down" my writing for the illiterate masses. i think we have a theme for the week. yes, rather.)

throw your hands in the air...then ascend into heaven like you just don't care...






Jesus enjoys really shitty entertainment.

Pics from way far back (in the variety playhouse, not time) at the Magnetic Fields, and East Side Lounge after.
(i actually like the east side pics better so i will post more of those)










the camera thinks my arms are made of plastic, I believe.

My favorite thing about livejournal?
All the emotionally unstable teenagers who leave comments on my journal. Go back to reading your Harry Potter, young miss(ter?), and leave me the hell alone.

There is nothing I enjoy more than arguing with crazy people.

Magnetic Fields tonight!
That is about the only exciting thing going on right now.
Oh, and I saw Jane Fonda in the parking garage this morning. That was kinda cool. She is tiny.

That is all.

A quick link, while I'm thinking about it.

Some of you have probably heard of MK12, some not. They are a design house out of Kansas City (where everything's up to date!), specializing in what I believe is called motion graphics. Clearly I do not partake in the field of design, but I still love to look at their stuff.
Even if they did do a Faint video.

Anyways, click here to view their website.

Oh, and be sure to check out their self-promo video "4D Softcore Sweaterporn". It's not what you think.

here is a smackling of their print work:

Here Are My Top Ten Album Picks For The Year(s):

uno: U2, How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb
dos: U2, How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb
tres: U2, How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb
catorce: U2, How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb
ocho: U2, How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb
doscienta: U2, How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb
treinta: U2, How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb
diecinueve: U2, How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb
veintiocho: U2, How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb
diez: U2, How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb



p.s. U2 sucks.

Well lookee here. If it isn't the side view of of a collision of two gold beams in the Relativistic Heavy Ion Collider.



Science never lets me down I tell you what.

These are the Armies of The Night. They are 100,000 strong. They outnumber cops five to one. They could rule New York. Tonight they're all out for the Warriors.

If you haven't seen this, there is a pirate riding a shark-on-fire-shaped hole in your life:

How To Kill A Mockingbird.

A friend of mine just sent this to me via i-chat:

The New DJ Revolution: mp3j's who use iPods: "Somewhere in East Atlanta the turntables are motionless. The only thing spinning is a chorus of iPod hard drives, or the ceiling (if you're friends with the bartender). The club is the Echo Lounge and the event is called noWax. The concept for noWax is simple: MP3s, not wax. iPods, not decks. On noWax nights, mp3j’s bring their iPods and wait for the automated projector above the DJ booth to flash their number. They then plug-in and mix three songs back-to-back against another mp3j. noWax is a public competition very similar to 'Rap Battles', a la Eminem's movie 8 Mile." except of course.. The music will be MUCH better. This is the first event of it's kind in North America.. and it's happening on Wednesday December 15th 2004 at The Echo Lounge.

The only thing Atlanta needs less than the proliferation of (EVEN MORE) talentless DJs is fifteen extra condo developments build on top of my head. Sometimes I wanna slap this city around like the little bitch it is.

Finally! All the mysteries of the universe, explained!

Here's a compilation of all the video footage from the R.E.M. show in full Quicktime glory:

Click here to experience some hastliy edited together footage!

My eyes are burning just a bit and I think I may be getting sick again. I actually am getting sick again, or well now let's force this into the present tense roundabout let's just say I am sick again. Every time I sneeze it echoes off the cement and bounces around, the echo loud enough to embarrass even the least-occupied of rooms. By least I mean of course myself and the sole occupant of the couch, though that person is quite lost in the deep sleep process of being slowly digested by the cushions.
And so it's Friday night 2am and so I am sitting on the rug, one thin layer from floor, I am on a stationary life-raft, calm seas, and I am feeling rather flat myself. The volume on the television is almost indistinguishable from my keystrokes, forming an inconsistent texture, one long flat noise eating away at the seconds. I should be on the outabouttowns or at the very least tipsy and attempting something akin to sleep. I don't wear listless well. My mind wanders to irrational territory and gains comfort in problems that do not exist outside it's established borders. No, let's plant our flag elsewhere- I want to lead the next generation of conquistadors into the scant-remaining uncharted territories, namely grey matter, namely so.
Nothing is happening, nothing is the happening, this is about how it's happening all around me, the dust collects and I am taking note. Note.

The couch talks in it's sleep, though nothing remotely transcribable, is it slavic? I don't know any of your dialects. I am going to have a cigarette despite respiratory protests, and maybe turn off the tv, and maybe return to the same Nabakov sentence I am reading over and over, and then give up on writing all together because that sentence sets the bar entirely too high.

They should change the name of the olympic event "discus throwing" to "discus hurling". I think that would garner a lot more interest in the sport.

For your Thanksgiving viewing pleasure, here is a turducken stuffed with delicious Bono:

Ladies and gents, Third Eye Films in association with Camp Basement Productions is proud to present:
The Legend Of Spalding

It's majestic. In that way that things are not really all that majestic, but really kind of crappy. Like a convention, or a jim carrey movie.

I know it's close to ye olde holiday season cause I've been listening to the Beatles all morning. Now I'm out like Flynn/Flint, and hell if I'm not bringing the leftovers with.

This is literally the worst baklava I have ever laid tasts buds on. Seriously whoever is passing this off as baklava needs to stay the hell away from baked goods so as he/she can think about what they have done. To me. And my tummy.

I am still eating the baklava.

Picture posting is BACK IN ACTION....here's some from Halloween, plus randomness before and after.

Halloween! It's Halloween:





The Arc of the Covenant as reenacted by some chess pieces:

The Dawn of the Saw:

From the floor which doth not exist:


At the Brick Store:


Nashvilly (all hail bellsouth):


Eastside (lounge), yo:



Jen M's b-day party:

Cole wearing a hat (pic by erin, I believe):

Kitty porn?:

The Abonimable Rugman: