Monthly Archive for August, 2001

Page 2 of 13

they were getting interviewed by some good man whose name was bill

sun shines in the rusty morningSoundtrack of the day: Pixies’ doolittle, Black Box Recorder’s the facts of life, Pink Floyd’s the dark side of the moon, Perry Farrell’s song yet to be sung, Smashing Pumpkin’s machina, Radiohead’s at ground zero interview, Air’s 10,000hz legend, Bouncing Soul’s how i spent by summer vacation, Built to Spill’s ancient meoldies, Jimmy Page and the Black Crowes’s live at the greek, Superchunk’s incidental music, Cheap Trick’s greatest hits.

We moved. At least at work we did. We are now closer to where I live. It’s a double edged sword. It’s nicer and swankier and my office is larger than life. I do share it with Korinne. But she is cool and harmless. She takes a lot of shit, so i give her that. Anyways. It’s also dope cos my commute is now 10-15 minutes in the morning and drive home. Love it man. The downside is it’s in a huge corporation office building. So be it. I think everything else weighs that out. Oh and the fact that the morning show had 20 stippers on the show this morning. Yeah, 20 strippers on the Rockville Pike yelling at cars driving by. Then they bathed with Bryan in the fountain in the lobby. God, i have the strangest job ever. You can see it all at, if you dare.

Nothing else is really going on. I think I am strung out on doing shit. I still need a break. Maybe I need a woman. Prolly both. Which reminds me of a funny story. My friend from high school, this dude named Jordan, told me once that this song by the Pixies called DEBASER was written about them being in the studio next to MC Hammer and his (Hammer’s) bass was so loud they (the Pixies) wrote the song about it detailing their need to lower bass. I almost believed him for a second. I still laugh at the thought of it. What a funny (looking) guy. Good times were had by all. We had our first pipe of pot together and got taken home by the cops. And both on the same night.

And now whenever I hear the Pixies I think of Zut. I think of college and my first year there. I think of the cold autumns waking up with her next to me. It was quite blissful. She was warm and soft. Listening to Ned’s Atomic Dustbin and watching X-files from her bed on a friday night when everyone else was partying. I remember her crimping my hair. I remember coloring in coloring books with crayons. I remember making her mix tapes. I remember watching Ed tying himself to a tree with dental floss with a mirror at his head. We called that “art”. Very interesting people. Nothing else mattered. I remember when she moved to the room next door and her ‘rents came to help. I remember Zut’s father’s mustache was mesmerizing. I knew when I saw that mustache that my life would never be the same. I remember that time when I went home to her parent’s house. Her dog was very old and couldn’t see well and would walk in to the walls. It was very sad. We also watched the HBO Pee Wee thing with her Mom. And I slept in the basement the first night. The second night I got to sleep in Zut’s bed and I later found out she slept on her sister’s floor. I still feel bad. Those were good times. No question the best time of my life. Just like that Bryan Adams song. Yeah yeah yeah. God, i am nostalgic. I think I need to sleep. Sleep deprivation drive me nuts. This monkey’s gone to heaven. And wants one fine Yankee monkey to come rescue him.

hang me on the down stairwell

Brandtson, Holly Park; Elvis Costello, All This Useless Beauty (aren’t they re-releasing this CD?); Dambuilders, Build This Bridge; Sould Coughing, Soft Serve; Steve Earle, Trancendental Blues; Ween, Japanese Cowboy; Tori Amos, Crucify

I don’t much like Tori Amos. Anyone who put out an album called “Y Kan’t (Enter First Name Here) Read” makes me want to kick said person in the teeth. And she did that. Oh, she did that. Plus, her fans… sad-eyed Magic the Gathering playing boys with ponytails who were big into Lit Mag. The same guys who would have had a homosexual experience with Trent Reznor, just given the chance. Black Cape Wearers! (oh, but I love capes. It’s so awesome.) Anyways, how can one be obsessed with both Trent and Tori? I didn’t get it. Still don’t. However, it IS kind of like going to a high school reunion, listening to a song by her. All I need is a shitty-quality Fuji mixtape consisting of Tears for Fears, or 10,000 Maniacs, Neds Atomic Dustbin, or the Posies, They Might Be Giants; maybe some Towa Tei, definitely the Smiths and Cure, and the maroon sweater I wore every day of my sophomore year, 7-11 coffee with amaretto creamer, secret crushes on seniors, makeout sessions by my locker where Mr. Rindfleisch the geometry teacher who had military flashbacks and a bullet in his butt would overlook disapprovingly and maybe even say something. Maybe some Spin Doctors. And I’d SET. Retro set.

Good God.

The Future

Sig Other has a certain pair of sunglasses I don’t like. They are OP and mirrored, with black and silver frames. They are not quite ugly enough to be cool-funny-ugly. They just verge on being early-nineties-ugly-stupid. They make me think of what people in 1990 would have thought SUNGLASSES OF THE FUTURE would look like.

That story wasn’t a metaphor, it was just a horrible explanation of how I view my future. I think in 10 years, I will look back at what I THOUGHT my future was going to be, and I will be disappointed at my lack of creativity in 2001. My dreams will be ugly SUNGLASSES OF THE FUTURE dreams, stupid SUNGLASSES OF THE FUTURE goals. Does that make sense?

Career Goals

I am thinking of one career: flight attendant. It sounds so glamorous. One of the big problems I am facing is that I’d like to try being one back in the 1960s, where women had to be single and wear miniskirts and were called stewardesses and had to be hot and skinny and full of youthful vigor. Whern stewardesses stayed together in sexy LA pads on layovers, and chain smoked and had martinis and sunbathed and tried to find husbands. It sounds like fun. You can get crazy on me if you wish, all uber-feminist and say things like “that’s when things were so sexist and blah blah blah blah”, but c’mon. Give a little. The 1960s sound like fun. I’d either be a hippie or a flight attendant, and I love showers. That’s where I want to be a flight attendant.

Maybe it is one of the three me’s: the art me, the sluggish-corporate-happy-hour-khaki-computer-me, and the glamour me. The glamour me is most recessive. She doesn’t come out much. That is the me who wants this flight attendant gig. Fuck. I’d probably get a bigger paycheck doing that anyways.

Now, today, at 11:48 am, it is not like that. Work is okay today. But maybe I still want to give the skies a try, even if the industry has changed. My father does not think this is wise. “You went to college for four years to be a glorified waitress?” No, I went to college for four years to rot in front of a computer screen and watch my life-force drain into my ass, which grows exponentially bigger. Waaa.

And this complaint, in itself, is tiring. Very, very tiring. How many times did you hear slackers and yuppie-adventurers and dot-comers with their “new business ideals and air-hockey tables” and Starbucks employees and save-the-world-AmeriCorp-ers say this exact thing? I have the same complaint as thousands, nay, millions of people in their mid-twenties. I am distressed and bored and I want to do something bigger. Better. Anything. However.

I am different.

I am special and brave.


I watch my ass grow and my creativity drain and I do NOT under any circumstances make plans to build houses in Uganda or start my own company or pick up a hobby like kite-surfing or Xtreme mountain rappelling. I might sell my Volvo for an Infinity, which isn’t saying that I’m CAVING to the ESTABLISHMENT. It just gets better gas mileage. And it’s newer. And all this is what makes me okay. I am still an art major with the Volvo heart. I would like to see the School of Americas shut down, I think the gay marriages should be legal, I think that since I KNOW about Burning Man, then it must be too commercial. Dance Safe has it’s heart in the right place, but I still think its pretty much catering to stupid people. But I will not, for now, quit my job and my 401k. I have no reason to go to grad school, and no reason to have my car stolen by painting students. The people I love are here, and maybe I’ll settle here for good. I still have my overalls and occasionally go braless, I sing the wrong lyrics at the top of my lungs and I don’t own any Kenny G, unless maybe for kitsch value, but for now, for now… I embrace my computer screen and whine and someday, maybe someday, I will be your helpful guide to the friendly skies.

Just don’t air rage on me.

Generalize about Tori fans? You bet your life I do. 😉

hot pants get hotter cheeks

Soundtrack of the beach: The Clash’s rockers galore, Stevie Wonder’s 07*04*73, JSBX’s extra width, The Dismemberment Plan’s emergency and i, The Who’s maximum r&b vol 3, Frank Zappa’s Joe’s Garage acts i, ii & iii, Television’s the blow up, J Mascis & the Fog’s more light, Tempo Team 7″, Mons’ stimulus frequency for the localization of sound in space, Sonic Youth’s sceaming fields of sonic love, Sunny Day Real Estate’s diary, Prince’s HITS/B SIDES, Joy Division’s substance, The White Stripes’ destill, Polvo’s celebrate the new dark age, & Frank Zappa’s Hot Rats.

I left for the beach on Friday after work. I got to leave a little early as there was little work to do. I hit the road around 4.30pm. I love road trips. I wish I could get paid to drive people everywhere. Anyways. The directions I got or the fact that the roads in Delaware are fucked ended up making Mat mega-confused and ended up getting very disoriented for a bit. I called Zander and talked to his step-father. He said “oh boy” a lot and got me more worried than I should have been. Using my not too instinctual driving instincts I made it there on time! Zander’s mom rocked. She was so cute for a 47 year old mommy. Hot pants man! She even got to see the Stones in ’74. That rules.

So as soon as i got there we headed out to the beach to get some grub. We went to “Dos Locos” – Two crazies?! I got fajitas with chicken. Yum! Mega good and our waitress was from ireland. I thought that was pretty funny. The step-dad talked very little. I had a Corona and Zander’s mom had a Coors light. We walked around the boardwalk for a bit looking at all the stylish whitetrash for a bit. Then we got back and I got to hear what Zander had been recording all summer. Some of it was pretty interesting. The drums were very below par for my standards. But in general i was very happy he was happy with what he did, however. Hopefully after he re-tracks it all, the drums will sound mucho better! Do it to it.

I couldnt stay awake and was in bed by 12.30am. I was exhausted. I fell asleep almost instantly, but woke up at 7.30 am cos my phone wakes me up then for work. Dammit! I did get back to sleep for a few more hours. I finally awoke again and the moms had coffee (black, like my soul- coffee) and these cool apple pastery things that i am going to make everyday for the rest of my life. Damn good they were. So basically we headed out to the beach after that. It was awesome. The water was superb! The sun was superb. I am tan. Well I guess less white than normal. And i got to wear my yellow “Gopher Baroque” tshirt that I always wear at the beach. I also re-affirmed my love for the women’s body. God it’s a tasty thing.

After we were done at the beach we went to get some grub. Yum. Zander saw an old high school friend who kept on staring at me like she knew me and wanted me to say something, or she just wanted to steal my tshirt.

So my mini-beach-vacation rules. I so needed it. I hope to do it again in a few weeks. Maybe in mid september. I just always have the best thoughts and memories from beaches. Cape Cod, Massachusettes all thru my childhood. Ocean City, MD with Zut. Destin, FLA with Feetnik and Gabe and Charlene. The list goes on. Now i can say ReHOBOth, DE with Zander.

Time to get piss drunk.