The charm of Albert Street.
Controlled chaos. Go here to check the notes.
- What up, y'all? I was planning on ranting, but that may fall to the wayside. Maybe.
- So yeah...that apartment picture: Yes, I live like that. I'm usually able to keep that area tidy, but since my iPod flatlined, I tend to dig through my CD collection just before leaving for work. So when I get back at 12, I'm too tired to give a fuck about the mess that's around (yet I'll still stay up until 7 doing nothing major. Shit.). It's a good thing Mom knows nothing about the internet. She'd fuckin' flip.
- My mental state/fighting off the curmudgeon: Lately, for some reason I can't fathom, I've been super-aware of my mortality and feeling rather inadequate/insignificant. It's almost as if I've been living in a blissful state of ignorance for an indefinite amount of time, and that's even after cleaning up after incontinent and Alzheimer's-afflicted individuals for 2.5 years. The veneer has been removed somehow, so I've been looking at life like some jaded anthropologist, watching fellow humans march to their doom. Maybe it's due to the environmental issues that have been front and centre throughout this year that have got me all fucked up. I dunno.
What I need is a change of pace. What I need to do is clean up this fucking apartment and take more time to draw, other than the meager 20 minutes I spend during my first break at work. What I need to do is fucking exercise. I've got a bike, and a number of weeks before the snow comes, plus a jump rope for when it does. I'm all about being fit AND fat, (it's possible) but I'm not doing anything about that first "f".
At 32 (and my fiancée will disagree with this), I'd like to think that I've gained a certain amount of experience that causes the phrase "kids these days" to exit my mouth. Or at least, want to escape my mouth. I can't say I've actually let myself utter that, because I'm not elderly. God willing, I will be 85 and able to void my bowels and bladder in a socially acceptable fashion.
I can tell you right now "what's causing all this", as Ric Flair would've said back in the day. The "debate" with John K. left an indelible impression on me. Ever since then, I've been telling myself that I'll never, ever fucking think like that. I fully realize that times change, and if you don't roll with the punches, you'll get rolled by 'em, Chauncey. On two occasions, I've been around a grouping of folks that are between 60-75 years of age. Every time I hear one of them pipe up about the quality of music today, I bite my tongue, as they're often people I respect and I don't want to scream on 'em.
Recently, I had a heated exchange with some cocksucker at gigposters.com about dwelling in the past, as far as rap music goes. He talked about a Public Enemy set he caught at a Rock The Bells stop, which he felt was bad enough to negate anything they've done in the past. A number of us told him he was full of shit, then proceeded to wax nostalgic about rap heroes like Rakim and N.W.A. Admittedly, while I'm aware of what's hot, and make it my business to know, there's a lot of rap releases that I haven't felt in a major way, and you could say I started feeling that way around '98. The thing is, I've been around long enough to be picky about what I listen to. I refuse to accept sub-standard material.
SO! Long-ass story short: I've got a dour state of mind, but I'm able to put on a happy face AND I'm keeping the "you kids get off my lawn" demon away from my soul.
- The word "cocksucker": Y'know, I've been re-thinking my use of that word. TJ Dawe's latest Fringe show got me thinking about that, too. I mean, why attach that to a volatile person? Isn't the cocksucker performing a valuable service?
- Ivan Brunetti: I picked up Misery Loves Comedy from the library recently. It's good to know that there's someone out there that has a far more miserable outlook on life than I do. I knew he was a downer (albeit a funny one), but I had no idea just how wretched he felt about humankind. For a short moment, I felt better about myself because of this book. Did I mention that he can draw his ass off?
- A year without TV: This month marks the year I left TV behind for mainly financial reasons. Do I miss it? Yeah. But not as much as you think. Back in the day, I was the dude that watched the NBC prime-time specials that launched the new Saturday morning programs. I made schedules. I regularly copped issues of TV Guide.
Today, I no longer watch sitcoms, and I'm pretty much bored by episodic TV. I've probably watched a total of 12 hours this year, and that's been at Sarah's place. That's where I caught JB's "The Fire In Ya Eyes" feat. The Game. I used to hear this joint on @Large's Dope Spot and thought it was tight. I still do. What gets me about this video, is the ending. Homie, you and your crew are flashing crazy cash...couldn't you pay for your video without a Videofact grant? Fuck. C'mon, dude! I've got no problem with someone getting one, but if your vid depicts you as supposedly paid, the Videofact tag makes you look like a poser.
- I hate Nickelback: That's no fucking secret. "Modern rock" is accessible n' whatnot, and that's fine. It doesn't affect me in the slightest, because I'm not the audience. But for some reason, these guys, the leaders and torchbearers of this genre, raise my ire like an interview with a Klansman. Just...I dunno...every fucking thing about these bitches is lame, especially Chad. Footage of this cock puppet getting belted with a bottle in Portugal makes me giggle.
My hatred doesn't extend to their fans (hey, different strokes...), but the adoration can be a turn-off. I wanted to add this dude as a contact on flickr, because he takes awesome pictures of his gorgeous wife. I did, until I noticed a photo that had a Nickelback lyric quote underneath it. That was like, salt peter in the form of text. Bleh.
- And here I said I wasn't gonna rant. Whatever. Bedtime. Peace.