Monday, September 27, 2004
the queen is dead, again.
oh, great. more stuff. from this. handsome. devil. in. spain.
best line of the week, from my homie and indie-rock Morrissey, Jamie Stewart of Xiu Xiu:
if you can't touch your legs because you dont have any i will be sexually attracted to you
(sometimes, watching the sunlight drizzle across warm waves is what i call an education.)
two novels/novellas i recently read that reminded me of why i want to teach this shit to begin with:
Herman Melville's Bartleby and Don DeLillo's Cosmopolis. one is a fascinating parable of an unorthodox dude who loves work, yet refuses to do anything his boss asks him to do. one of the most interesting characters of American literature, i'd say. certainly one of the strangest. the other book deals with America on multiple levels: musical, architectural, social and economic. i wasn't too hip to DeLillo's black noise due to the fact that i was supposed to read Libra for class and didnt and it sorta left a sour taste in my mouth (something about weak teachers and the books they assign that makes me never want to read them, ever). but, after reading the tiny genius that is Cosmopolis, i'm down for what DeLillo gots to pontificate. i think it was Camus who said something to the extent of "Americans are the only writers who think they dont have to be philosophers". well, DeLillo ain't down with that for he's as philosophical as a Yale grad student with black-rimmed glasses wearing a shirt with a picture of Immanuel Kant that reads: "you didn't love him enough".
or maybe it was a dream.
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
Roma
two things i realized recently:
1) i would like to live and die in one of these two places: Buenos Aires, Argentina or Rome, Italy.
2) i once dragged my dad and made him feel guilty into taking me to see this guy.
you ever notice, William Gass and whoever the hell writes Tv on the Radio's blog have the same prose style. graduate students are scribbling dissertations on this as we speak.
a few more thoughts:
if half the world's languages dont have a written component (according to modern linguists), what does that say about literature? writing is still a technology.
there needs to be an Afrika Bambaataa postage stamp.
someone go see this film. please.
this is what people in Texas call Ethnic Studies.
1) i would like to live and die in one of these two places: Buenos Aires, Argentina or Rome, Italy.
2) i once dragged my dad and made him feel guilty into taking me to see this guy.
you ever notice, William Gass and whoever the hell writes Tv on the Radio's blog have the same prose style. graduate students are scribbling dissertations on this as we speak.
a few more thoughts:
if half the world's languages dont have a written component (according to modern linguists), what does that say about literature? writing is still a technology.
there needs to be an Afrika Bambaataa postage stamp.
someone go see this film. please.
this is what people in Texas call Ethnic Studies.
Friday, September 17, 2004
staring at the sun
the edges of understanding are often sharpened through the quiet eyes of children.
in this case, my nephew and niece.
two weeks ago, as the hurt of leaving my own fantastical environment (NYC) was setting in, i was in Houston, being weirded out by horrid weather, unchanging friends and a cemented sense of nationalism (read: Southern patriotism). then, i went to soccer practice.
at my brother's behest, i accompanied him to my nephew's practice. it was one of the greatest days i've had in a while. in between observing a handful of five-year olds, squirming around soft sunlight in the joyous destruction of patience, i realized how much of my days as a yungwun i had forgotten. tiny moments where memory paints itself white and drizzles into quiet days. like little league baseball practices or walking a girl home after school. why do we remember what we do?
after hitting the practice field hard, we went home and found some catfish on the grill and a weird little girl in the living room. my niece, of course. after hearing of how she likes bjork and the flaming lips (hey, this kid has better taste in music than most people my age), i asked her to write me a story. one involving a rabbit, Benjamin Franklin and Alexander the Great's horse, Bucephalus (which is also the title of an Aphex Twin cut). she tackled the challenge head-on and after a cartoon break she crafted a wonderful tale about the adventures of a rabbit, Ben Franklin and Bucephalus that centered itself around Ben's inventions. warmth, either from Houston's achingly horrid humidity, or from my heart, coated me.
as down on the world as i can be sometimes, its moments like these--being let into the hyperspace of a seven-year old's brain--that solidify any sense of honor in the graying ideas of imagination, free thinking and an ancient Greek ruler's horse.
as Gabriel Garcia Marquez once said, "there's more magic in everyday life than could ever be thought up in a novel"
play soccer. write stories.
in this case, my nephew and niece.
two weeks ago, as the hurt of leaving my own fantastical environment (NYC) was setting in, i was in Houston, being weirded out by horrid weather, unchanging friends and a cemented sense of nationalism (read: Southern patriotism). then, i went to soccer practice.
at my brother's behest, i accompanied him to my nephew's practice. it was one of the greatest days i've had in a while. in between observing a handful of five-year olds, squirming around soft sunlight in the joyous destruction of patience, i realized how much of my days as a yungwun i had forgotten. tiny moments where memory paints itself white and drizzles into quiet days. like little league baseball practices or walking a girl home after school. why do we remember what we do?
after hitting the practice field hard, we went home and found some catfish on the grill and a weird little girl in the living room. my niece, of course. after hearing of how she likes bjork and the flaming lips (hey, this kid has better taste in music than most people my age), i asked her to write me a story. one involving a rabbit, Benjamin Franklin and Alexander the Great's horse, Bucephalus (which is also the title of an Aphex Twin cut). she tackled the challenge head-on and after a cartoon break she crafted a wonderful tale about the adventures of a rabbit, Ben Franklin and Bucephalus that centered itself around Ben's inventions. warmth, either from Houston's achingly horrid humidity, or from my heart, coated me.
as down on the world as i can be sometimes, its moments like these--being let into the hyperspace of a seven-year old's brain--that solidify any sense of honor in the graying ideas of imagination, free thinking and an ancient Greek ruler's horse.
as Gabriel Garcia Marquez once said, "there's more magic in everyday life than could ever be thought up in a novel"
play soccer. write stories.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
guardin' state
beautiful, folks.
Texas is so damn big of a state, that we house nice guys(read: boring) and gangstas. I feel it's almost Zen to be a fan of both. which, of course, i am.
oh, and fuck the A's.
when the words "Mikah 9" and "Aceyalone" drip from a beautiful girl's mouth, you listen.
when she says she sings back up for a local hiphop group, you attentively hear.
when red glasses, like whispery wires, sit upon her nose wonderfully, you lust for the moment to go unending.
when she thinks, you take notes.
[and hope the trees reshape the day into a loop]
Austin, here i come.
Texas is so damn big of a state, that we house nice guys(read: boring) and gangstas. I feel it's almost Zen to be a fan of both. which, of course, i am.
oh, and fuck the A's.
when the words "Mikah 9" and "Aceyalone" drip from a beautiful girl's mouth, you listen.
when she says she sings back up for a local hiphop group, you attentively hear.
when red glasses, like whispery wires, sit upon her nose wonderfully, you lust for the moment to go unending.
when she thinks, you take notes.
[and hope the trees reshape the day into a loop]
Austin, here i come.
Monday, September 13, 2004
make the music with your mouth, bjork.
this man/South California resident is not fit to run this country, folks.
but this man is.
and this dude, too.
but this man is.
and this dude, too.
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
records as food.
DJ Jester is more than a walking turntable machine.
he is human, people.
currently travelling the country from ballpark to ballpark showcasing Microsoft's challenge to the iPod, he will be featured by yours truly in the upcoming issue of Signal to Noise.
any friend of Kid Koala's is a friend of mine.
speaking of Koalas, Mexico's reigning dream team of soccer, the UNAM Pumas handled Spain's skirt-wearing pretty boys: Real Madrid.
ah, soccer. giving you a chance to kick the shit out of your former colonizer one game at a time.
and has anyone seen Wong Kar-Wai's In the Mood for Love? thanks to Hua for putting me up on this film (paging me, Kar-Wai is a masta killa of the cinema for a hot minute now), which thanks to Netflix is in my apartment for an undefined time.
(twists moustache...)
fate, folks. what is this? if a person of the oppposite sex that you found devastatingly attractive and intelligent popped up in a class (oh, lets say Modern British Fiction) and then--a year later, no less-- returns (oh, for lets say, an introductory course in Linguistics), what does that mean? how long must one hold their tongue? she wears nice glasses.
we need more of these. and these. and these.
he is human, people.
currently travelling the country from ballpark to ballpark showcasing Microsoft's challenge to the iPod, he will be featured by yours truly in the upcoming issue of Signal to Noise.
any friend of Kid Koala's is a friend of mine.
speaking of Koalas, Mexico's reigning dream team of soccer, the UNAM Pumas handled Spain's skirt-wearing pretty boys: Real Madrid.
ah, soccer. giving you a chance to kick the shit out of your former colonizer one game at a time.
and has anyone seen Wong Kar-Wai's In the Mood for Love? thanks to Hua for putting me up on this film (paging me, Kar-Wai is a masta killa of the cinema for a hot minute now), which thanks to Netflix is in my apartment for an undefined time.
(twists moustache...)
fate, folks. what is this? if a person of the oppposite sex that you found devastatingly attractive and intelligent popped up in a class (oh, lets say Modern British Fiction) and then--a year later, no less-- returns (oh, for lets say, an introductory course in Linguistics), what does that mean? how long must one hold their tongue? she wears nice glasses.
we need more of these. and these. and these.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
can't beat that with a baseball bat.
principles and nodes.
1. speaking French is still a form of protest.
2. listening to Lil' Flip's "Game Over" is no longer for sociology students, anymore!
3. if you like refills, New York is not your Kennebunkport.
4. sitting on a stoop in Soho watching the peanut vender give free bags away to pretty ladies is what the Buddha meant by "satori"
5. if Zen Palate is good enough for Franz Ferdinand, then its okay with me. honest.
6. the Astros need to move to Argentina.
7. Beans' beard should be studied by African-American studies professors at Harvard.
8. This is why Austin is where god would live if dudes didnt wear their jeans so damn tight.
9. Harlem has heart, folks.
10. working for MTV is like dreaming in lakes of red velvet light where turntables are beds.
11. Denton is still the place where tiny ideas become bulbous and complicated.
12. I'm going to send rappers from Queens grammar books for Christmas.
13. Kary from Williamsburg (the future Asian president) is a philosopher that rides a shiny motorcycle. Dishing out real talk about Turducken, Gaddafi's hot girl army and modernizing the South by making forced labor camps to economically fertilize the coasts is a guy i want on my team. if you don't vote for the other Kerry, pencil this one in for President.
14. Ciao Bella is made with sugary air out of the mouth of unicorns that wear white robes.
15. In 1865, Rudolf Julius Clausius changed the way we think about death forever.
16. This dude is scrubby and socially awkward: and he walks with a slouch.
17. This cat, sporting smooth white kicks and shades, is friendly: and does not walk with a slouch.
18. don't forget to call those you love.
19. the RNC is the greatest sitcom since the Reagan presidency.
20. Bjork's brain should be a commune.
1. speaking French is still a form of protest.
2. listening to Lil' Flip's "Game Over" is no longer for sociology students, anymore!
3. if you like refills, New York is not your Kennebunkport.
4. sitting on a stoop in Soho watching the peanut vender give free bags away to pretty ladies is what the Buddha meant by "satori"
5. if Zen Palate is good enough for Franz Ferdinand, then its okay with me. honest.
6. the Astros need to move to Argentina.
7. Beans' beard should be studied by African-American studies professors at Harvard.
8. This is why Austin is where god would live if dudes didnt wear their jeans so damn tight.
9. Harlem has heart, folks.
10. working for MTV is like dreaming in lakes of red velvet light where turntables are beds.
11. Denton is still the place where tiny ideas become bulbous and complicated.
12. I'm going to send rappers from Queens grammar books for Christmas.
13. Kary from Williamsburg (the future Asian president) is a philosopher that rides a shiny motorcycle. Dishing out real talk about Turducken, Gaddafi's hot girl army and modernizing the South by making forced labor camps to economically fertilize the coasts is a guy i want on my team. if you don't vote for the other Kerry, pencil this one in for President.
14. Ciao Bella is made with sugary air out of the mouth of unicorns that wear white robes.
15. In 1865, Rudolf Julius Clausius changed the way we think about death forever.
16. This dude is scrubby and socially awkward: and he walks with a slouch.
17. This cat, sporting smooth white kicks and shades, is friendly: and does not walk with a slouch.
18. don't forget to call those you love.
19. the RNC is the greatest sitcom since the Reagan presidency.
20. Bjork's brain should be a commune.
