because i can't come up with anything interesting to say on my own...

I'm ripping off somebody else's blog. Again.

From "Overheard in New York:"


In My Family, Jack Daniels Is the Tradition

Middle-aged woman: Tradition brings us all together and makes us feel close.
Twentysomething woman: That's not the tradition; it's the Jack Daniels.

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Merry Christmas, folks.

hipster quote of the week

"The Arcade Fire is just Neutral Milk Hotel for people who like suspenders."

Bonus: "Awww, you still listen to music? That's adorable. I only listen to ambient frog whistles."

christmas in nyc. . . again.

So here's the big news: It appears that I am NOT going home to Fla. for Christmas.

For my Florida friends: Sorry, I know a lot of you don't live there anymore, either, and this is the only time you'll be back in the Fort. Guess I'll see you on, I dunno, Memorial Day? Next Christmas? For those of you who do live in Fla. full-time. . . I'm planning a long, leisurely trip down in mid-January, so let's make plans to get together then, ok?

And for my New York friends: For the second year in a row, I'll be here in NYC, sans family or roommate. "Lonely guy, table for one," and all that. Anyone else in the same position? If so, let's do something fun. Dinner at my place? I'll cook. I know how. Ask anyone whose been lucky enough to find out. Dance party? Backgammon tournament? Boozy storytelling? You tell me. Get in touch. Let's not end up down at the soup kitchen, crying in our Night Train, like we did last year.

Or was that just me?

xo
Val

we had the best time at your party.

Ween are a real live rock and roll band.





B: "Yeah, you know how some people are Dead-Heads? Well, I'm a Ween-Head."
G: "You mean a Ween-er?"
B: "A weiner? Uh, no."
G: "You're a Weener."

so this guy walks into a bar...

Not really. But a guy I knew long, long ago was recently arrested for allegedly throwing a 4-lb. pumpkin at his girlfriend, in addition to, according to the newspaper, "several other gourds." This alone was enough to make me nearly wet my nickers, but in the grand tradition of milking the most possible humor out of someone else's unfortunate situation, here are my favorites of the comments spawned by this nonsensical incident:

• "Total waste of a beer. Everyone knows pouring beer on people doesn't make them more attractive, it just makes them smell better. He should have drank the beer then put the pumpkin over her head. Just a little thought would have saved the day, not to mention the beer, pumpkin, and gourds."
• To the girlfriend: "Be grateful for the experience and what it taught you: Move forward and duck for flying pumpkins."
• "10 bucks says his jailhouse nickname will be Pumpkinhead."
• "Hug a pumpkin, not a miscreant!"

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In other news, I went for my semi-annual haircut today. After the stylist looked at the job I've been doing maintaining my own bangs and unconvincingly lied, "it really doesn't look bad at all," she went to town and gave me a new cut that she described as "mod." I don't know about that, but it does look disturbingly similar to the hair of the wayward 18-year-old waitress at my work, except her hair is blue. Too bad the salon didn't have any Botox laying around, I'd have been all set.

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Quote of the week: "I never puked on myself until I met Jenny."

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More uninteresting nonsense later.

outs.

"You can't ever find a place that's nice and peaceful, because there isn't any. You may think there is, but once you get there, when you're not looking, somebody'll sneak up and write 'Fuck you' right under your nose."

well, i'm screwed. or not, actually.

According to an article on Netscape.com's love channel, there are lots of things a woman can do to be sexy, but according to singer Rihanna: "You want to have good skin and be blond and all that good stuff."

Now I get it.

If anyone can shoot me Morissey's number, I'd like to give him a call. I may need some tips on adopting an asexual lifestyle.

that dog, he don't come around anymore

"the town's so small, how could anybody not look you in the eye, or wave as you drive by..."

here's the difference

Spotted in Bushwick, where folks keep it real:

In my neighborhood, they will invite your dog in for tea and a poetry reading.

over-under

Ever had a two-dollar psychic reading? Me either. Funny how they're so boldly advertised even though they don't really seem to exist. That's okay; a two buck reading would probably consist of something like, "judging from your face, I'd say you're not terribly bad-looking."

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In other news, the Halloween festivities weren't exactly what I expected, but the night somehow exceeded my wildest expectations nonetheless. Ask me to explain this and I'll kick you in the shins. No, really. I don't usually hang out with moustachioed headband-wearing Russian gangsters, but I was feeling generous and I figured, "hey, it's Halloween, for Chrissakes, nobody should have to be alone, not even moustachioed headband-wearing Russian gangsters with ample chest hair and enormous foreheads." Here, look how much fun we had:





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Tonight: My friends Ford & Fitzroy play the Pianos 5th Anniversary Party. Put on your dancin' shoes. It's gonna be a real good time, folks.

what to do, what to do?

So this Saturday night is when the majority of Halloween festivities will take place.

This bar is having a costume party. And cold cut platters.

Lucky 13, "Punk Slope"'s only metal/deathrock bar, is having their 3rd Annual Halloween Bash, promising "Metal! Punk! Drunk people! Insanity!" No, they're not kidding!

My downstairs neighbor is having a party, too. (Hey, baby! I'll be down later!)

The Drive-By Truckers are playing at the Music Hall of Williamsburg.

How to choose?


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On Halloween, this band is playing at the Silent Barn/Raven's Den (which is actually somebody's house):



Old Time Relijun, you scare the bejeezus out of me with your songs about vampires and witches and black widow spiders. Hey, horn player, is there a dead bat stuck in there? Sounds like it. And Arrington de Dionyso, you already have a scary name. Why must you sing in such a scary warbling howl? And playing on Halloween, in a place called Raven's Den? This is just too much.

Old Time Relijun, let's get it on.

I'm ready.

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Here's some advice on what to do if you're attacked by monkeys.

blahblahblog

Things I learned while reading Craigslist and eating Ramen Noodles today:

**note: No need to inquire as to whether I might be feeling lethargic and depressed, concerned friends. I just said I was reading Craigslist and eating Ramen Noodles, didn't I?

• "Cash and prizes" = funny term for male genitalia.
• "Cat in the asshat" = roughly the same as "douchebag."
• A group of mice might be properly referred to as a "herd" but is more likely a "pack."
• Someone in Ann Arbor, Michigan was lucky enough to find a Rick James album randomly placed on the windshield of their car, while it was parked at the shopping center downtown. (Rarely have I been so envious of the good fortune of another.)
• Bartering with/for alcohol and tobacoo products is against CL regulations.
• Tattoos can be covered fairly easily with a thick layer of Max Factor stick makeup, which can, in turn, be removed with roll-on deodorant (?!) and baby wipes.
• Apparently, some women aren't attracted to men. And vice versa. Who knew?
• The Multnomah Post Office is a hotbed of social interaction, but you probably don't want to mess with the "regulars."

where mah fitty bucks?

Friend-wise, I have been very lucky. Whether or not I deserve this is another story. It's been almost eleven years since I lived under the unfluence of SDRE and Slayer, double-brewed cuppamud, wake-and-bakes and G'ville mullet-hunts. Eight years since Bjork (Post), dead birds on hotel balconies in O-Town, and "sorry, Everlast cancelled, so we're giving back half your money and the Roots are gonna play for three hours." "WHAAT?" Five years since my first and last visit to the house of the coolest semi-crazy-cat-people in No. Ga..

By the way, I think I still owe you sixty bucks. You can collect in person, sucka.

i was looking at you, too.

Billy Harvey played in NYC again, and this time I was there.

fitting in doesn't feel so good.

I can't stop feeling that the expression on my face makes me look like I belong here. Having attended, I can tell you how frightening a thought that is.

just my style, part II

From Yankee Pot Roast:

“My earlier work, which I’ve also yet to write, is much better.”

(MB says he will now be attaching this to all of his work e-mails. He's a copywriter.)

just my style

I just spent an hour writing. About...writing. Somehow this seems worse than talking about writing, which is widely advertised as an activity that makes me want to puke. Now I'm actually writing about writing about writing, which probably makes this the most self-conscious paragraph ever put into print. Self-congratulations are in order.

So today I attend one of the most anthropologically fascinating events of my life, on two hours sleep.

okay, all right.

Finally, what you've all -- "all" being "all three of you who will actually read this" -- been waiting for: Photos from the big Arcade Fire/LCD Soundsystem/Blonde Redhead/Les Savy Fav extravaganza this past Saturday on Randall's Island.

If you're looking for photos of the actual performances, look elsewhere, because I only got one, and this is it:

Here's Richard Reed Parry of the Arcade Fire.



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If you ask me, the order should have been reversed, and they all should have been opening for Les Savy Fav.

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Here's me, in one of my more "hard-core" moments, with my friend Ben.



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Jenny and Ben, having been raised in Montana, are undercover mulletheads. After the show we went to an Irish pub, where these two un-ironically played Slayer and Ted Nugent songs on the jukebox.



I think this photo just about sums it all up.

the kinder, gentler LES

Jenny and I went out one night last month with the goal of only patronizing places where the other patrons were NOT trying to be cooler than you, me or anyone. Surprisingly (or not), it was a smashing success. And look, we made some friends:

thrice.

I just wanted to say "thrice."

twice.

Would you pardon me briefly while I go back in time and post some things I never posted, because I didn't yet have a blog? Thanks.


I'm really doing this for my mother. Hi, Mom!


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Here's a recent photo of me. Nate took this just as I had finished primping for a trip to the Brooklyn Public Library. He said my hair looked great. He was right.




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I went to the Central Park Zoo last week, all by myself.

I saw the snakes:



And the penguins:





And a polar bear:





The animals were a tad sad, but this was great:

once.

"Good enough isn't really good enough, is it?"

daily dose

My two favorite things I have heard today:


"The sunlight comes in the windows differently here, reminds me of my childhood." (GM)

and:

"First kisses begin with booze." (MB, who ripped it off from someone else, but thanks anyway.)

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Possibly the best thing I have heard during a card game, ever:

K/Brazilian: "You Americans play games because you are masochists."
A/American: "You might be a genius."

...boozy and shoeless.

I recently remarked to a friend that blogging struck me as similar to having a one-sided conversation. Like talking to a cardboard box.

I've never understood blogging.

Time to find out for myself.