Monday, August 30, 2004
invisible cities.
i miss New York City.
I think Jimmy Fallon hates me.
big ups to the dalek crew for holding it down in the Big Apple.
Swarthmore scholars rule..
and Chelsea is like, so gay. but they make the greatest shrimp pasta at Cola's on 8th Avenue in Chelsea. oh, man.
not calling doesnt always mean not caring, said the guy with the scruffy beard and scratchy black-rimmed glasses. i think he's Indian.
more New York memories to come, including--but not limited to:
the first Asian president, homeless people sleeping on Gap Ads, Brazilian nights in Brooklyn, hangers smashed in Times Square, Dave Chapelle in Union Square, Zen Palate Zen Palate Zen Palate motherfucker, whoa, that's Beans, Junior's in Flatbush, Beat Street Records, pretty girls in subways, anti-war posters at Ground Zero, homeboys from Philly and sweet girls who just came back from China: i'll be good.
here's to book deals about avant-garde Mexican rock bands and Rice University.
let's move forward.
I think Jimmy Fallon hates me.
big ups to the dalek crew for holding it down in the Big Apple.
Swarthmore scholars rule..
and Chelsea is like, so gay. but they make the greatest shrimp pasta at Cola's on 8th Avenue in Chelsea. oh, man.
not calling doesnt always mean not caring, said the guy with the scruffy beard and scratchy black-rimmed glasses. i think he's Indian.
more New York memories to come, including--but not limited to:
the first Asian president, homeless people sleeping on Gap Ads, Brazilian nights in Brooklyn, hangers smashed in Times Square, Dave Chapelle in Union Square, Zen Palate Zen Palate Zen Palate motherfucker, whoa, that's Beans, Junior's in Flatbush, Beat Street Records, pretty girls in subways, anti-war posters at Ground Zero, homeboys from Philly and sweet girls who just came back from China: i'll be good.
here's to book deals about avant-garde Mexican rock bands and Rice University.
let's move forward.
Monday, August 16, 2004
see you in Brooklyn.
one way flight from the sorta-boogie down Denton.
walking upon the cemented skin of Texas, it hit me:
English papers will become my life. and that is perfectly fine with me because everyday peoples--not just future notebook scribblers and writers for Family Guy-- need some .45 caliber grammar assistance (the RZA as English teacher). they need to study both W.V. Quine's Word and Object and Dhalgren.
Used Bookstore Societies, little democracies in black-rimmed glasses and cold coffee cups, unite! No, dudes, not like the Democratic Party, but seriously.
we're doomed.
Western Universalism ends here.
let's fight the good fight.
dont be selfish on birthdays.
watch the sun sleep.
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
neuromancer as a southern rap album.
the real Porfiry Petrovitch---modern and out to get the criminal minded.
three novels that Crime and Punishment reminded me of:
Richard Wright's Native Son/ Thomas M. Disch's Camp Concentration/ Alfred Bester's The Demolished Man.
all for distinct reasons. it also helped that i had a vintage copy of the novel from the 30's that included some amazing black and white graphicwork that resembled Frank Miller's Sin City.
this was also one of the most dense novels i have ever read. the thought people put into social standing, the "question of the woman", etc--the intellectualization of the common man and its affects on the tattered fabric of society is what made this novel so fascinating. not to menton the obvious: what brings a man to murder? Raskolnikov is a strange character: lovable, atrociously self-absorbed yet altruistic, and brainy. Yet, the reality of him killing two ladies is real, not merely a confluence of pyschological forces. material reality is an is: not an ought. through the paragraph-less pages and the gray prose a difficult understanding of both the Russian way of life in St. Petersburg (which is described as a direct reflection of Russia itself, the progressive city-as-character) and this crew of busted up characters (Katerina I. is the most erratic) is made.
truth in a glass of vodka.
now i will forgo Twain and read a contemporary fictive Lil' Mac uppercut: William Gibson's Pattern Recognition and Don De Lillo's Cosmopolis. who said literature was dead in the twenty-first century? please, put your hands down.
woebots will wule the uth.
Monday, August 09, 2004
glossy autonomy.
In the Future Johnny Cash Will Come Back as a Robot--
and He Will Still Look like This.
Why'z you so 'appy, mum?
Sonido Studies:
VA- Music in the world of Islam
Erik Satie- The Best of Satie
Drop the Lime- various bootlegged tracks
VA- Ohm: the early gurus of electronic music
Bob Dylan- Live 1966
Friday, August 06, 2004
a joyful noise.
two more reasons to appreciate life:
Rick James passed away today.
let's get super freaky for the man tonight.
and not spend millions on coke. or drink coke for that matter.
British weirdos.
Rick James passed away today.
let's get super freaky for the man tonight.
and not spend millions on coke. or drink coke for that matter.
British weirdos.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
yungwuns.
sometimes, it feels good to live in the South. rarely, do i feel this way, but regardless.
the catfish. shitty cars with nice rims and jadakiss hanging out the windows. heat-filled afternoons. trees frozen with timelessness. mexican dudes making me feel at home. three, teen-aged chubby black kids walking past me yellin' about "what ya'll ni'as know about street life?"
and small philosophies on the lips of old-timers.
and used bookstores.
im working on overthrowing sleep. as sweet as it is, i am attempting to read twelve hours a day, with small interims for all dat otha stuff: PBS specials, cold coffee-making, talk about baseball and italian movies.
1000 divided by 10 / pages to go and i will finally finish crime and punishment (something i should have done years ago).
fzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt.
then, after the red light crystals have dissipated into the mouth of neptune and the universe(s) have enmeshed themselves into spheres from a building in barcelona will i be onto mark twain and a book on nonequilibrium physics--just to explore my general knowledge. (i think Pharrell is in it...)
build with the god, son.
the catfish. shitty cars with nice rims and jadakiss hanging out the windows. heat-filled afternoons. trees frozen with timelessness. mexican dudes making me feel at home. three, teen-aged chubby black kids walking past me yellin' about "what ya'll ni'as know about street life?"
and small philosophies on the lips of old-timers.
and used bookstores.
im working on overthrowing sleep. as sweet as it is, i am attempting to read twelve hours a day, with small interims for all dat otha stuff: PBS specials, cold coffee-making, talk about baseball and italian movies.
1000 divided by 10 / pages to go and i will finally finish crime and punishment (something i should have done years ago).
fzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt.
then, after the red light crystals have dissipated into the mouth of neptune and the universe(s) have enmeshed themselves into spheres from a building in barcelona will i be onto mark twain and a book on nonequilibrium physics--just to explore my general knowledge. (i think Pharrell is in it...)
build with the god, son.
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
rephlexions.
on my block: everything is everything.
after finishing Alfred Bester's ticklingly wonderful novel, The Demolished Man, i looked at my shelf and realized how many books i had read since the beginning of the year. i never do this: counting and whatnot. but, the reason i did was my alarm at the fact that we are into August already. this year is halfway done. and i am close to graduating.
why can i only think of New York?
i spoke to a friend recently about the unorthodox sadness i feel when i finish a novel. its like breaking up with a girlfriend when you are still in love. i dont want it to end. the only evidence of my reading it is abstract: in conversations, occasional journal scribblings, neurological exercises.
alas, the shelf beckons.
and to those interested, devendra banhart's new album is pretty hot.
though its really weird listening to his spanish. it doesnt resonate with me as much as canonical latin rockists like Cafe Tacuba, Aterciopelados or even Juana Molina.
weird, but great.
anyone know what the hell happened to Pharoahe Monch? i heard a broadcast of his on a BBC radio show: put the album out, dunny!
on to another book, i guess....
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
technocultura + democracia electrica
¿es posible extrañar lugares que nunca has visitado?
Helsinksi.
Buenos Aires.
Mexico City.
el sol se esta derritiendose. Dizzee Rascal debe de ser profesor de literatura.
autonomia cerebral:
Escritores Nuevos
sciencia-ficcion
silencios en Paris.
el pueblo de ruido jamas sera silenciado.
la filosofia del nuevo mexicano es de technocultura, musica electronica, bohemia, literatura Afro-Americana y drogas sicodelicas. a huevo.
Helsinksi.
Buenos Aires.
Mexico City.
el sol se esta derritiendose. Dizzee Rascal debe de ser profesor de literatura.
autonomia cerebral:
Escritores Nuevos
sciencia-ficcion
silencios en Paris.
el pueblo de ruido jamas sera silenciado.
la filosofia del nuevo mexicano es de technocultura, musica electronica, bohemia, literatura Afro-Americana y drogas sicodelicas. a huevo.
Monday, August 02, 2004
mariah carey melting + demolished men.
Guy Debord, where are you?
I feel safe.
and i dont know if protest songs from the likes of Public Enemy and Moby is what the world needs right now. how about printing up copies of Howard "The Ladies In the Poli-Sci Department Think I'm Hot, Yo" Zinn's books or Federico Garcia Lorca poems and hand them out at churches. or not.
reading:
Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment
Alfred Bester's The Demolition Man
Howard Zinn's The People's History of the United States
I feel safe.
and i dont know if protest songs from the likes of Public Enemy and Moby is what the world needs right now. how about printing up copies of Howard "The Ladies In the Poli-Sci Department Think I'm Hot, Yo" Zinn's books or Federico Garcia Lorca poems and hand them out at churches. or not.
reading:
Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment
Alfred Bester's The Demolition Man
Howard Zinn's The People's History of the United States
Sunday, August 01, 2004
boy in da corner
Museum of Modern Art.
so, i just watched a documentary on Hank Williams (gangsta...) and one on Johnny Cash. i forgot how great both of these guys were. and it makes a great argument for how complex American music is: imagine Notorious BIG and Johnny Cash on the same track?
man, i should have been born a label owner....
so, as far as rumors have it, Dalek might be producing an album for MF DOOM. two of the darkest figures in contemporary hiphop waxin' philosophical on the same record: sounds like stubborn hope to me.
("i have tried, in my ways, to be free....")
and pour out a little for Boston....Nomar is No Mo'.
the Cubs should read more Nietzsche.
Art Prostitute gallery party was mad nice. mingled, stole free beer and watched software steal the show. Pookie Blow would be proud. and sorta-girlfriends, rule!
like Tweedy said, "stop buying things!"
[science and lsd in the waters is a texan revolution]
