Friday, November 5, 2010

truck stops on the jazz prairie: Stewart's #415, Route 9, Queensbury

a triumph. read derek dupre.


truck stops on the jazz prairie: Stewart's #415, Route 9, Queensbury: "After selling my bike to a demented Gurkha outside the old Archive cafe, I caught the L to 8th avenue and then shot up to Port Authority on ..."

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Help, I'm Alive!

Life is hard. I think the problem is that we've passed the age of milestones. Now the milestones we reach are self-described and self-prescribed (I'm a woman! I'm getting married! I lost 50 pounds with Nutrasystems!)
There is no movie fade to black. We gotta wake up and do whatever it is we did yesterday again ad naseum. I mean, we don't HAVE to but unless your the dude I'm currently reading about who lives in a teepee and kills all his own food you do. And even his life is monotonous- wake up, bathe in a freezing river, make some squirrel soup, gets to killin'. Repeat until deers start jumping in front of your bullets.
So I think that's what's catching us up and catching a lot of people up. The cycle. Maybe it's just a reprieve we need- to slip out of the spin dry for a bit, get soggy and see what else might be happening outside of the centrifuge.

This song is surprising apt in this scenario. It just happened to be playing. Look past the dubstep/electro-everything. The title I guess is what got me- "Help, I'm Alive!"

http://hypem.com/#/track/1236601/Metric+-+Help+I+m+Alive+Krusha+Remix+

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Truly New Anti-Social

For the better part of my life, I've been tethered to a computer. The addiction really went into full swing during college. With the inception of that damned facebook, I was hooked. This newly acquired digital diet did two things.

What do you want first, the good news or the bad news?

Let's start light (I love leading with the positive and then cleaning up with a depressing bit of language. I feel that it makes for a surprisingly savory slice of sadness that I have such an appetite for). With the computer came creativity. I have always been someone who is compelled to create. Maybe it's because I lack the basic attention span to sit and learn. I find the act of reading incredibly pleasurable, I just wish it wasn't so damn boring. I make things because it validates me. I think that's why we all make things- to validate our existence. It's not always for other people- sometimes it is- but we create so we can step back and have a visual representation of our time spent. And as I'm not about to save anyones life as a doctor or find a loophole in court legistlation, I need to use the tools I got. Amongst those tools is the computer. With it, you can literally create anything- drawings, scripts, movies, websites, ideas. It is a piece of technology that without it, I don't know I would be the person I am today. I have a hunger to learn and to explore because of it.

Now for the down side.

The more and more we explore the human results of interacting in "social networks" the more it becomes obvious that we are no more social than before. Rather, we're detached. The majority of my closest relationships happen in the keystrokes. Dusty memories remain top-of-mind because I will occasionally receive a status update. I spend a startlingly large portion of my life living through my computer rather than living in the breathing, unplugged world. And it's sad. I don't want to feel pangs of remorse for my past relationships. I don't want to see people through the window of a screen. I don't want to be this social creature.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Talking with Grandpa

I called my grandfather the other day. I haven't talked to him in a while. He has Parkinsons and dementia so it's hard for him to talk. And it makes it hard for me to call. It's difficult to hear him in a state he so obviously has no control over. Sometimes when we talk, he's pretty good, meaning he is lucid and tells me about his surroundings, the dog, the weather. But if I call later in the day, he's usually set sail into another world. Literally. I think when the current state of mind goes, a person drifts back to the time they most cherish. For my grandfather, that was when he was on the sea with his boats.

Our recent conversation went a little something like this:

Me: Hi Grandpa
Grandpa: Oh, hello....
Me: JD, it's JD.
Grandpa: Ok
Me: How are you doing?
Grandpa: Oh, doing fine, about to set sail here pretty soon. We have dinner plans at the next port.
Me: Sounds like a great time. Is the weather right for it?
Grandpa: Should be. The water's calm.
Me: That's great. Just wanted to call to say hello. Got a new job and just started.
Grandpa: Hmmm?
Me: A new job. Just working.
Grandpa: Ok. Well I think Eve will be here soon. There is a group in San Juan we're picking up, docking down there for a week.
Me: That will be a nice trip. It's gorgeous down there.
Grandpa: Yes, what is the name of your lady friend?
Me: Liz
Grandpa: Eh?
Me: Her name is Liz.
Grandpa: Ah, well that's good...
Me: Ok, I'll let you get ready for the trip, Grandpa. Just wanted to say hello. Love you.
Grandpa: Ok, bye for now.

In the conversation, he sways back and forth from reality and foggy memory. I know I shouldn't engage him in the fantasy, but in truth this distant time he travels to sounds like a much better place than where he actually resides. He's essentially bound to his chair, very immobile. A huge man crippled by an illness that has no cure. But in his head, he is the statuesque sailor steering his boat, a full gale filling his sails. Most of my early memories of him are like this; his perfectly-placed white hair keeping its shape as we skirt across offshore swells aboard one of his many boats. He never said much when we were younger, at least not to his grandchildren. On occasion, he'd have us take the wheel of the boat in open water when an error in direction meant nothing. He'd outfit the entire family in dark Yale blue slickers with white zippers- life preservers for the children- and meander up the Connecticut coastline. A scotch in hand, he'd watch the horizon as if it might otherwise vanish without his constant vigilance. Another constant was his mouth, frozen halfway between grit and grin.

Now in the twilight of his life, I think he's back on his boat, manning the helm, heading for that horizon. Maybe he's with his whole family. Maybe he's with his wife, my grandmother, Tabby. Maybe he's by himself. But I'm glad he's back on board, navigating himself, half grit and half grin. I wish I had heard his stories when he was healthy enough to tell them, but I appreciate the chance to catch the flash of memories as he sails along.

If my mind goes, I wonder where I will return to...

Monday, July 5, 2010

Describing what a djembe is, in relation to my djembe

A djembe is an African hand drum which translated means "everyone come together". And it also happens to be what my parents thought I'd most like for my 25th birthday, which in their own way, they were right. I don't much play it as much as I pat it rhythmically. It helps me network this difficult Los Angeles landscape. Just last week I played it in a circle of sweaty bums and drug addled tweakers. They had no business cards but I'm quite sure if I venture towards the boardwalk, I can find their offices under a palm tree. 



Nico Muhly - Fast Twitchy Organs

Nico Muhly - Mothertongue- I. Archive - Abigail Fischer.

Friday, March 19, 2010

SXSW Music Fest: Day 1

I arrive in Austin after a day of travel filled with misdirection and airport chili, which lead to more misdirection. My cab driver, from Somolialand (not to be confused with Somalia) was the first pleasant face of many I'd encounter. At the AT&T visitor, I picked up my roomcard and opened the door to a fantastic room.

Plush pimp paddage.

I got in touch with Hie and headed to the presidential suite where she, Alex, Noah and Christian were digging into a pack of Shiner Bock. Tunes and tales were tossed, leading to an exit for some tunes. A cab outfitted with enough green to turn greedy dropped us at Frank (NOT to be confused with FrankS) and we feasted on dogs and waffle fries. Kate Z from BU and her friend Jessie arrived and joined the merry crew.

Finishing our dogs we headed next door to The Phoenix and were greeted with a sound that resembled music if it were put in a blender and then abused as a child. No number of drinks could spin that sound into the positive, so we headed out into the warm night.

Made our way to 6th st or dirty sex or some other intelligent nickname for a section of town that can only be described as Cancun, Texas style. to the Dirty Nickel (?) where Kates roommate bartends. 2(0) sweet teas later, we're cutting rugs. Rather, we're dancing in a bar. We decide an actual dancefloor might be better. Quick stop off at a club with now ceiling and giant mammoth tusks (there was an elevated dancefloor, would have been cool when i was 18 but all I could think was that someone was going to fall and break their neck, mark my words...) then to Qua, which is supposed to be french for water. Or something. I think it translated, roughly, to slutty Dr.Evil palace. The dance floor was over a shark tank! That shits pimp. Broke it down for a bit and then Kate gave me a ride back to the hotel.

All in all, the first night was great. Not much music to speak of, but today should prove fruitful.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Lady Gaga Telephone

POmplamoose is at it again.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Monday, February 8, 2010

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

8 Signs Shes Not Girlfriend Material

Strip poker

An article written for undisclosed magazine. Let's just say it involves girls having recently become wild...

Let me preface this article by stating the most obvious traits to look out for in a possible girlfriend: jealous, bitchy, ugly. The below warnings serve to highlight the finer points of girls that suck and under no circumstance should become your one and only.

1. She likes your friends…a lot.

The Spice Girls framed it best in their song Wannabe: “If you want to be my lover, you’ve got to get with my friends”. Note that this author doesn’t know these lyrics intimately and certainly does not own the 1996 debut album “Spice” on which they appear, but the sentiment is clear. You should feel comfortable bringing your significant other into your friend fold. But there is a limit. “You’ve got to get with my friends” should not be taken literally. Here are a few tip offs that she might want to bang your entire brotherhood: She comes to every poker night and turns it into strip poker; She sticks behind at your apartment in her undies to get cooking lessons from your roommate; she laughs at everyone else’s jokes but yours (fucking bitch!) This girl doesn’t just want to be chummy with your friends - she wants to get cummy with your friends. Walk away before she blows everyone on your Ultimate Frisbee team.

2. She wants to wait until marriage

While this notion may have been admirable before electricity was popular, rest assured, our forefathers had to deal with blue balls far more often that the history books recount. Today’s world is laden with pleasures of the flesh at every turn. So when you walk her home after a night of putting in romantic leg-work and she drops this bomb, choose your next move wisely. You can be the nice guy (read: idiot) and tell her you understand. You can agree with her archaic feelings and convince her that you feel the same way. But secretly you’ll tell yourself that you can change her mind. You won’t. What you will do is subject yourself to weeks, even months of frustrating make out sessions that leave your battleship hard up with no harbor to port in. Your best move when given this information is to thank her for the lovely night, walk away and never see her again. There are plenty of fish in the sea and most of them want to fuck.

3. She’s happiest when you’re saddest

This sign is tricky given that you usually don’t notice how utterly depressed you’ve become until you’re dick-deep in a crappy relationship. By that time you may have convinced yourself that true happiness means being kind of miserable. Don’t fret - there are early signals that the girl you’re courting will turn out to be a passive aggressive fun dumpster. Check for the following: does she sulk? Does she always point out the negative in everything? Is she a “realist”? What you’re misidentifying as intriguing angst is actually a bad personality masquerading as a misunderstood soul. Get into a relationship with this hapless whore and you’ll soon find that there was no mystery to her anguish - she’s just a miserable bitch. And nothing makes a Debby Downer more delighted than dragging someone down with her. She’s looking to hold your happiness hostage. How better to do it than by screwing your dick literally, and screwing your mind figuratively? Trash the indie mixtape you made her and start searching for someone who actually likes to smile.

4. She wants you take over your life

This starts innocently enough. Guy meets girl, infatuation kicks in and it’s puppy love in full bloom. Every moment together is bliss and every moment apart is gloom. Spending all your time with a new girl can seem completely natural, especially if you’re getting major bonage. But those surging sensations will wane and when you awake from your love-coma, you may wonder a few things. Like, “Where the fuck did my life go?” Your life, much like the dinosaur, is now extinct, destroyed by the meteoric collision this chick has inflicted. You may try to correct your wrongs and reconnect with friends. This will likely cause annoyance in your captor and she’ll complain, probably in a baby voice. Now, it’s easy to be blinded by pussy, but what happens once bro night get replaced with crocheting classes? Fuck. That. Sex is great, but talking about sex with your buddies is half of what makes it so great. Ditch the clingy bitch. You’ll thank yourself on Sunday while enjoying the game with your friends.

5. She’s at the gym all the time

No one here is condoning fat chicks. Ew. If chubby chasing is your thing, well… What was I saying? Oh yeah, right - this isn’t really about girls’ weight, at least not right away. If your casual hookup is always at the gym you must consider the reasons. It could indicate body image problems. If that’s the case, good luck trying to do it with the lights on, no matter how slamming her bod looks. On the flip side maybe she gets off when her jugs jiggle on the treadmill. Starring in the protein-powered fuck fantasies of meatheads just might be her thing. And consider this - if she’s pounding away on the StairMaster two hours each day, what happens when she stops? I’ll tell you. You’re dating the Marshmallow man (er, woman). You’re better off finding a fit chick that does yoga a few times a week. Not only can she do that until she’s old as dirt, but consider the flexibility…

6. She parties harder than you


You’re at the bar and you buy this girl a drink. Then you buy her another. Six beers later, you’re embattled in a chug contest that leaves her the victor. Use your soggy brain and think – this is not good. Not only have you just been emasculated at the one thing that guys were born to dominate - binge drinking - but you’re piss drunk and she’s ready for a rematch. While a girl with an appetite to party is attractive, there can be too much of a good thing. If she’s out-ponging you, out-flipping you and generally out-drinking you, then you have a problem. Not only will you be dubbed a massive pussy bitch loser by all of your friends, but you’ll also be dating someone who remembers less of an evening that you do. Instinctively, guys are designed to do stupid things and look to women to nurture them. But when your nurturer is passed out in a pile of her own mess on your roommate’s futon, you have truly hit rock bottom. All you can hope for from this relationship are a handful of public hookups that will be described by the sober as nauseating, a lot of headaches and even more drunken arguments. Find yourself a lady who doesn’t mind a night at the bar, but operates better as the caregiver. Your liver will thank you.

7. She doesn’t swallow

So you’re getting a blowie. Nice job! Only problem is she doesn’t want to sip the mantini you’ve prepared her. Can you blame her? Yet this simple gesture exemplifies a larger avoidance for sexual requests. How long will it be until she demands to remain fully-clothed when doing it (and by doing it, she means dry humping your jean-trapped Johnson)? Soon enough, you’re overjoyed when given permission to simply touch her sweater puppets - over the sweater. Unless delayed-pleasure is your thing, try to find a girl who will gulp the pulp. Not only will you avoid that awkward question, “So… where do you want me to nut?”, you will probably end up getting to stick it in her ass. Eventually.

8. She’s a miserable drunk

We’ve all seen them. The girlfriend who after a few drinks is hanging on her beau, first playfully, then angrily, next screaming at him for not paying attention to her. She yells at him on a public street and flies into bouts of tears for no perceivable reason. You look at this chump’s predicament and shake your head, thankful that it’s not you. Keep it that way. If you’re seeing a girl and she starts tearing up at the bar, get out of there. It doesn’t matter if she’s crying about her grandmother’s impending back surgery. Forget her reasons. Soon she’ll be balling because of something she saw on Animal Planet or screaming at you because you looked in the direction of another female. It’s a slippery slope, lubricated by her tears and made all the more slippery by her alcohol intake. If you ever want to enjoy another night out, you’ll avoid these crazy crybabies. The next time you see that girl barking at some schlub, you might just tear up a little, happy it’s not you.

(If you have identified other telltale signs that shes not worth the title, leave a reply).


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Monday, January 4, 2010

lothario in waiting
stepping out of a daydream into the day
days of toiling, cold, warmth, relaxation
biting pain in my neck
or is it my head?
my brain itches. if i could-only-get-that-stick-in-there-id-get-to-scratch
what did you say liz? yes i was listening
i was just thinking at the same time, one shouldn't try to do too much, listen and think simultaneously
the view from my bedroom is hidden more than it is seen
beautiful, unchanging, waiting to be sipped in
or does it care? when im gone someone else will look at you with new eyes, fawn for you and then pull the drapes
deflated balloons in my pockets
deflated balloon on my desk
zombies
wine
buddha
this coffee is acid. but i am its battery
what is your unrelenting passion? the walls ask?
if only i knew, perhaps i wouldn't have to ask the question.