I'll be in Colorado until 3/7

I'll try to post. If not, eat it bitches! --

The weather's here - wish you were, beautiful.

It's unbelievable how 15 degrees one way or the other can impact my mood. After a bitterly cold winter in more ways than one a 41 degree day can do wonders for your optimism. It can turn your ten minute walk through downtown each morning from a distraught walk through the Valley of the Twisted to a hopeful stroll through the City of Possibilities. Motherfucking Nature, brah. *

So I've written some songs. Some I've had kicking around for a long time in one form or another... but lately I've really buckled down on them and fleshed them out so that they are in near complete form. Complete enough to try them out for the few individuals I trust for feedback on that sort of thing, anyway. If all goes as planned in my life I will figure out what I'm doing with myself after graduation soon enough, which will hopefully allow me the opportunity to quit at least one of my three part-time jobs and concentrate on putting these tunes to tape. This excites me to no end. I know I've said things like this for years on this here blog. Even more so to Jimmy who always responds to the effect of "OK, now show me", which is pretty much where the whole thing ends. But not this time. Oh no. One way or the other, this is going to happen. Get ready to shake your asses. --

Ben Foster has some interesting things to say about the A-Rod deal that I think are worth reading over at Weasel Manor. He breaks the whole thing down better than I ever could and I share his opinions, for the most part. Especially the part where he talks about the stingy manager effect. Theo Epstein and Co. let quite possibly the greatest player in the game slip through their fingers because of $12 million dollars. Sure, he's old and he's crazy, but Stenbrenner wants to win. You can't blame a guy for putting his fucking coffers on the line if he thinks he's got a chance at taking the pot after losing three hands in a row, can you?

My feelings on the implications of the whole thing are pretty much pulling in two different directions... as a Yankee fan living in Boston, it's quite possibly one of the most hilariously enjoyable feelings in the world. It's like the city of Boston had finally finished saving up for that really big penile implant... but just before the end of the surgery, Ron Jeremy came in with his super-wang and used it to knock them off of the fucking operating table. Conversely, there's a certain amount of guilt that comes with being a Yankee fan. A white man's burden-esque sort of feeling. But just like Red Sox fans refuse to be swayed by their teams mind-boggling ability to lose, Yankee fans know how to take the "bought Championship" insults with stride. Should we feel guilty for being born in a city of winners? Fuck no. And when I say winners... don't assume I'm jumping the gun here. I'm talking about winning in a sense of beating the Red Sox to the punch in terms of A-Rod. October is a long, long time from now. *

I had a really great weekend. I didn't work a lot, which my bank account won't like too much come payday. But I just had a really enjoyable, stress-free, drink until you pass out kind of swell time. I was starting to think I'd forgotten how to do that. *

* Imri, Mr. "I can provide you with all of your desired digitally delivered Modest Mouse related thingies" himself was kind of enough to shoot me MP3's of a pre-released / taped off of the radio version of Good News for People who Like Bad News. I don't really know what to say. Something certainly seems missing, though. Could be the beginning of the end. Or maybe this is already the end. I really don't know. More on that with repeat spins. --

The following are my results from the You Know Yer Indie. Let's Sub-Categorize thingamabobber:


You're Generally Indie. There's nothing wrong with
this. You like music all over the map and
aren't adversed to listening to some Top 40
here and there. You just know to comment that
The Neptunes are the best producers around
right now. You don't feel the need to debate
constantly with other music geeks, because you
know that Pavement were the best band of the
90s.


You Know Yer Indie. Let's Sub-Categorize.
brought to you by Quizilla *

Can you tell that I'm fucking bored? --

Perhaps 'fornicated' wasn't the exact word I was looking for. And I didn't mean the amount of states that we had fornicated together in... in fact, the two people involved in the conversation I was referring to have never... umm... fornicated together at all. ... OK ... enough of that. *

Yesterday I was lucky enough to be provided this movie link to Modest Mouse playing Bury Me With It on the Carson Daily show. I'd love to hear what you think about it. I like it. I think. *

Work has hit an all-time boring high and satisfying low, the amount of effort I've been putting into my schoolwork is about as much effort as Paul puts into updating (oh snap), and I'd say that my social life was OK except I've been too drunk to remember most of it lately. Smile! You're in your early 20's! *

This just in... more movie footage of new Modest Mouse stuff. Thanks Erms. --

The following is an image representing the 30 states I have visited during my short time on this planet:



create your own visited states map
or write about it on the open travel guide

This is not to be confused with the conversation I had the other day with a friend, about how many different states we each had... umm... fornicated in. I'll leave that number up to speculation. --

Yeah. About that epic post. Fuggit. Chances are you didn't want to hear it anyway. My favorite part of it, however, I'll provide you with. It's an excerpt from "The Vice Guide to Finding Yourself", a frickin' hilarious list of shit that people in their early 20's need to have experienced to figure out just why the fuck they are on this planet. My personal favorite entry:

"This one is only for guys. In order to become a man you have to: 1) break someone's heart; 2) have your heart broken; 3) get the shit beaten out of you; and 4) beat the shit out of someone. That means: 1) she has to be so fucked up she almost kills herself. Like, doesn't eat for three days and falls down the stairs drunk; 2) you are so fucked up you have to punch yourself in the head to stop thinking about her; 3) you end up in the hospital with a severely broken nose and some sort of permanent facial scar; and 4) he's not really moving at the end. You're just kind of kicking a blob."

There was some other shit. My commentary. A Bukowski poem. Whining. Like I said, you're all better off for not having read it and I'm probably better off for not having finished it. *

Am I terrible for enjoying the song So Alive by Ryan Adams? Blatent bad Morissey ripoff and all? *

Picked up the Microhones Live In Japan on Saturday in the midst of my worst hangover since new years. I remember having read about it awhile ago, but didn't remember reading that it consisted of all new material. Not a single previously released song on the whole damn thing. The short review: first four songs - just Phil and a guitar, mostly. Along the same lines as the alternate recording of The Moon on Song Islands. If you dig that shit... makes the album worth whatever K's charging for it. The middle: just weirdness. He covers Silent Night and These are a Few of My Favorite Things. I think it's acapella, too. The end: bluesy. Yes, fucking bluesy... but in a Phil Elvrum kind of way. It's live and sloppy, but in a different way than the intentional sloppiness of The Glow Part 2. Shows promise though... put these songs through some Phil-like production and dub it Mt. Eerie and I think we might have a winner on our hands. Goddamn... anyone that doesn't know anything about the Microphones must think that I am writing complete fucking jibberish. Moreso than usual. *

About that hangover. Friday night I fell down a flight of stairs at a downtown bar and threw up out the window of some unkown individual's car that we apparently got into to get back to the South End. God bless Tequila and Bud Light. --

I think that work is starting to get in the way of my drinking habits. Three of my last four hangovers have been interrupted by web design work requests, meetings, and secretly looking for jobs while my boss' back is turned. What right does work have to get in the way of letting my ailing liver lay in bed all day? None, as far as I'm concerned. But there's nothing that can be done about that, I suppose... money being a necessary evil and all. *

Today whilist at work I've listened to Against Me!'s 'As the Eternal Cowboy', M83's 'Dead Cities, Red Seas, and Lost Ghosts', and Nine Inch Nails' 'And All That Could Have Been'. I'll the incongruity speak for itself. *

I have a bit of an epic post planned to go up within the next two days or so. And by epic, I mean strictly in terms length... cuz the motherfucker's gonna be long. Fortunately, the length stems from words other than my own... two particularly different but fitting texts that I feel very much prove the pointless point that I plan on making. In short, when you see the long-ass bitch go up... don't not read it based on the length of it, because most of it's written by people much smarter than me. Thanks. --

Dear New England Sports Fans (of the Northeastern University persuasion),

FUCK YOU.

Sincerely,

Chris *

Quite an eventful weekend. Friday afternoon I took a run up to Sunday River in Maine to do an event for the radio station I work for. All things considered it's a pretty good gig. Cars are provided, lodging is comfortable and free, lift tickets are free, and food is paid for. All we have to do is DJ for and entertain the patrons of the Ski Lodge during apres-ski. Two hours of actual work that I will get paid for about 28 hours for, plus all of the aforementioned benefits. Skiing and working on three hours of sleep was rough, but in the end certainly worth it.

I hadn't skied in going on three years now and was a bit worried that my skills would be severely lacking. However, as most people have told me lately, it's just like riding a bike. Two runs in I was feeling confident enough to hit the double blacks and veer off course for a little bit more variety. I'm heading to Colorado in three weeks and couldn't be more excited to do some west coast skiing again. The first time I went out there, with four buddies when I was 16, was one of the most memorable weeks of my life. This time out there's five of us and alcohol... so I'm thinking that my former trip might have some contention for favorable placement in the happy memory bank. It's also probably worth mentioning that one of the four that I went out with at 16 will be accompanying me again this time out. Thinking about that warms my heart. *

I see no reason why everyone on this planet of ours isn't listening to The Lawrence Arms' 'The Greatest Story Ever Told' as part of their daily routine. If I was forced to choose between the few things that I very much rely on to get me through the day... Coffee... Coke ... Water... or The Greatest Story Ever Told I'd have to go The Lawrence Arms route. And I don't care if you think the vocals sound too much like Blake Shcwartzenwhateverthefuck, I've never enjoyed listening to any Jawbreaker as much as The Lawrence Arms. Shit's chilling sometimes. *

I've got a few friends that are stomaching their way through an episode of The Carson Daily Show tonight to see Isaac Brock and his band of misfits known as Modest Mouse play their new single 'Float On'. Good luck and Godspeed, gentlemen. The episode will be airing sometime next week. --