Sunday, May 29, 2005

This worries me. Does it worry anyone else?

"Why am I getting 'Friend Requests' from people I don't know?"
Because your profile is public, and this is the fuckin' INTERNET, you moron!

I hope to hell I am not the only person put off by this, the world's most inane FAQ question.
We all know it peeves me tremendously that it is so perturbing for some people to be solicited on myspace by anybody they don't "know"; essentially it defeats the purpose of myspace. Regardless, if you prefer not to be solicited for e-friendship by strange internet folk, I suppose I can try to respect that (RESPECT, not understand, mind you). But to be honestly and sincerely confounded by the, um, PUBLIC nature of the internet and of myspace, well that just indicates sub-par intelligence levels. To be fair, I do realize that the majority of folks posing this question are new to myspace, but really, is that any excuse? It doesn't take a proficient myspacer to know why there are unanticipated friend requests popping up in their damn friend request box, just any ordinary PERSON with a sense of logic present in their thought process, however minimal. Perturbing, my dear? Far, FAR more perturbing is that the question has been asked so frequently that Tom saw fit to include it in the myspace FAQ. And still more perturbing is YOUR STUPIDITY.

But the bulk of the shock value in the absurdity of the question can be attributed to the way it is angled. Tom does not know all. He can offer you guidance in the even that your account is hacked, he can provide technical support, but he is not privvy to the secret thoughts and SINISTER ulterior motives of these dubious characters requesting you as a friend, which in essence, is what you are expecting him to tell you. It is neither a question of the technical variety nor one requesting assistance in making all sorts of profile adjustments. Rather, it belongs under the category of "Tom, why is Becky mad at me? Tom, how does the world work? Tom, how do I convince my wife not to leave me? Tom, what is the meaning of life?"
Oh, I know! I'll ask Tom! I'll send him a message demanding an explanation as to how one would account for these interlopers who appear to have infiltrated this private, top-secret, super-exclusive information network -- accessible only by people within my personal circle of friends and me -- known as the internet. TOMMMM! WHY THE FUCK ARE PEOPLE I HAVE NO PERSONAL AFFILIATION WITH REQUESTING ME AS A FRIEND?!
Tom will know. Tom is the all-knowing magic 8 ball.

I think the real concern underlying the matter is:
Tom... why don't I have any common sense? (That, I'm afraid, Tom cannot help you with.)
Hey, Tom, I have a suggestion. Let's make that FAQ question #19 under Miscellaneous. No, it'll be great. The link will open a page that says "Because, my dear, you are a myspacer."

Hey, listen. Your profile? It serves a PURPOSE. And that purpose is not to inform someone you had a lengthy discussion about Kurt Vonnegut over lunch with two hours ago that you love Kurt Vonnegut. Or to tell someone you correspond with regularly and went to a Decemberists show with a week ago that you like the Decemberists.
I'll leave it to you to figure out what the purpose is; it's simple enough.

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Friday, May 27, 2005

HO-LY SHIT, life decided to be good to me for a night!

So I went after all. But I walked in about 15 minutes into their set. (FUCK!) This time, Addison played on a STAGE, at a place with a decent SOUND SYSTEM. Granted, it was CBGB's, the only remaining Notorious Asshole Club in new york, but fuck, it's going to be shut down in a couple of months anyway; might as well take advantage of every opportunity to be outsnarked by the employees that comes my way.

I spoke to the band again after the show, and my, they are a friendly bunch. Never before in my life had anyone been glad to see me. Hell, I'm not even greeted like that by my FRIENDS, much less bands. (Well, I have once been thanked for coming to a certain show, redundantly -- about five times in a single minute -- by an unnamed singer of a certain unnamed band I love, but somehow I got the feeling he only did it because he had nothing to say to me and felt obligated to intiate some sort of verbal exchange with me because I had been a devoted fan for about as long as they'd been a band and he saw it impolite to ignore me.) It's flattering; it's nice that this band cares about their fans. And if that hadn't already filled my gratification quota for the rest of my life, I was invited by the film major who's documenting Addison on tour to sit behind the merch table, where I spent the next two hours or so. Go, me. After a while they all just sort of scattered in different directions, and for a bit I sat there uncertain of what to do, feeling awkward. Oh well.. I still got to feel kinda important.

They were only still around because the damn club wouldn't pay them unless they stayed all the way through the last band's set. So they were essentially held captive. I guess CBGB's doesn't treat their bands too well either..... I was in the most advantaged position; I had my natural free will to leave as I pleased but was permitted to stay if I chose. Ah, the luxury of option. I elected to stay and be a burden on them until a little after ten.

I think they spent most of their visit to new york looking for a place to stay. This band was unhappily displaced in an unfamiliar city where they have NO fan base. Well if I thought my living arrangement was miserable... these guys are sleepin' in a fucking van close to every night and they had a huge fucking dilemma. They kept asking people to point them toward cheap trashy motels to stay the night. GOD, I was dying! If I lived alone they could totally stay at my apartment for as long as they needed. That'd be AWESOME. Ah, if only, if only!

I guess new york wasn't too kind to them. I understand that they were warmly received and showered in hospitality in some of the towns they made stops in, but new york is just kinda shitty when you don't have too many friends living there. I don't suppose they're too eager to return to NYC, like, EVER, but on the off chance that they do in the next couple of months, there would be much rejoicing on my part.

To think I almost missed that for the sake of adherence to my petty little principles. Aw hell, I'll sacrifice my principles for a band I love enough any day.
After Wednesday night, I made tentative plans to go see them on Thursday, but remained largely undecided for most of yesterday morning. Inevitably, my uncertainty resolved itself into a decision. Ah, the ultimate dilemma: being torn between your fanatic unwavering devotion to a band and your unrelenting disdain for the club they're playing. What to do, what to do... As the day wore on, it became ever the more definite that I would cave despite my violent opposition to the thought of ever entering CBGB's again, until at last I made an impromptu decision to go. After all, I guess I could put my integrity on hold for a night. Surely I could stand to betray my principles for a night. (hey, why not? If I did it for Locksley....) If they're only here for two nights, I sure as hell ain't gonna miss one of them even if it means I'll have to go to ::shudder:: CBGB's again.
So I spent the afternoon scrambling to get my affairs in order. Given all the things I did to clear Wednesday night, what was going to stop me from clearing Thursday? I had to rearrange things last-minute, make adjustments to my schedule, push things out of the way, excuse myself out of obligations with imaginative elaborate lies..... and damn right, IT WAS WELL WORTH IT.
Boy, what an experience, what a consecutive two days, what a week. What measures I take for the sake of my beloved bands. (I'd totally do it all over again, too; no regrets.) Clearing the two dates was like planning out some grand bank heist scheme; it involved missing other shows, re-scheduling my week, re-scheduling the remainder of it again spontaneously the following day, calling people up and saying, "gee, so sorry this is on such short notice, but my sister's graduating that night."
Gee, so glad nobody I associate with knows me well enough to know I don't have a sister. Suckers totally fell for it. ha. haha.
For bands, life can wait. For bands, I can postpone/wriggle out of my responsibilities. For bands, I'm willing to stop my world. (Especially local LA bands that have begun touring the east coast only recently and don't spend as much time here as I would like)
Hellllls yeah, I've got my priorities in (some twisted form of) order! Bands come first, life comes later. Always. Because damn it, do I love my music and my shows. Should I ever be stricken with some debilitating disease or immobilized at the hopsital in the middle of undergoing, like, knee surgery or something, I'd get up and be like, "hold, doctor, I gotta go to a show, be back in a couple o' hours."

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Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Addison at what will be referred to affectionately as the hole in the ground underneath the Knitting Factory

The Old Office was everything it promised to be.

In my brief exchange of myspace messages with Josh from Addison, I likened it to a dungeon -- a comparison based solely on the general nature of the shows that take place there, for it is where the bands deemed unfit to play the mainspace stage are "banished". I meant it in a figurative way, but OH, little did I know how right I was on several levels. Secretively tucked away in a corner of the basement, it is in fact, quite literally the Knitting Factory's DUNGEON. It's a basement with a bar in the back, that's what it is. It looks like a basement, it feels like a basement, hell, it even serves actual storage purposes. It has no stage, but is ever so plushly equipped with a... platform (if it can even be considered that) simulating to some small degree the illusion of a stage, like the kind that can be found at establishments intended to serve primarily as bars but double as performance spaces (Siberia, Lakeside, Pete's Candy Store, to name a few). It's just this big, level protrusion from the floor, elevated three inches (if even that) above the rest of... floor.... And the sound system is awful.

The band played to some members of their touring crew, two of their girlfriends, and..... me. (There were also some boisterous drunkards present at aforementioned bar in the back, who'd either stumbled in obliviously or had arrived unfashionably early for the bands that were scheduled to play later on in the night, screaming lewd requests at them that would most accurately be categorized as sexual harrassment. And I must say, they seemed to have enjoyed being sexually harrassed.)
By god, I must have been the only fan in the place. I tried to sing along, but I wasn't familiar with all the songs they played. (I still totally had it down word for word though.) And then -- oh, get this -- and then I whipped out my camera and tried to photograph them. Just one solitary fan clicking away with her malfunctioning camera loaded with dying batteries. Luckily, this lasted only about a song and a half before my batteries died completely.

They begged the drunkards (and me) to take pity on them and buy their EP, asked if anybody would offer them a place to spend the night, bonded with some of the drunkards. Here was this band, playing to practically nobody in a fucking subterranean converted STORAGE SPACE, saying "hey, can we stay with one of you?" I did buy an EP, though not as an act of charity, for I had been waiting several long months for them to swing by NYC so that I might be able to get my hands on that EP. I spoke to Josh and Matt for a bit before going off on my merry way. They may have pesruaded me to succumb and go to the CBGB's show tomorrow night after all since a show on the upcoming Saturday, I was told, is not likely to happen.... That's just excellent, now I'm plagued by indecision. It'll take a lot of effort and persuasion to work out my schedule conflicts, but I might be able to pull it off. We'll see how I'm feeling tomorrow, I'll sleep on it.

Some ghetto-ass concert experience that was. I wouldn't've traded it for anything, though.

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Sunday, May 22, 2005

So. there goes the daylight!

I've been sitting in the dark for nine days. The lightbulb in my bedroom went out nine days ago and I haven't bothered to change it. It began a while ago when the first of the two lightbulbs went out. For months I neglected to change it and simply adjusted to living in the poorly-lit environment I'd created. It was dim, but bearable. And now, now I am just encompassed in complete and total darkness.
Eh. It's just light. I can stand to live without it. I'm adaptive enough, I'll adjust. (And when my bedroom deteriorates from neglect, I can always move. And when I die of lethargy, well... well, then I'll have died of lethargy.)

The blue glow from my monitor, I've learned, is an insufficient light source. Somebody please break into my apartment and change my fucking light bulb both my fucking lightbulbs while I am asleep (or when I am awake, whichever you prefer) or I will sit in the dark forever.

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Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Ohhh, I love Manhattan snobs. They're so funny.

I've known a few. We've all known a few. Silly, ignorant, condescending creatures, they are. Below are some of their defining attributes. (I mean manhattan snobs, to clarify, not manhattan residents)
They:
- are under the impression that all trains going into brooklyn cross the Williamsburg bridge -- even the L train, which doesn't go over a bridge.....
- are unfamiliar with the workings of the subway system
- have some misconception contrived from nowhere that the eastern-most border of manhattan is a 45-minute epic subterranean journey away from the nearest point in brooklyn. apparently the east river is ten miles wide or something.
- cannot fathom how one would possibly choose to live in Brooklyn.
- always speak in terms of "when you move to manhattan"
- have no concept of north and south -- and even if, perchance, they do, they don't know to apply it to Brooklyn.
- seem to believe that they pay more rent than you. shhyeah, bitch. not unless you live in Soho, the UES, or 1995.
- evidently think of Brooklyn as a narrow horizontal strip (perpendicular to manhattan) such that all that exists in the borough is to some degree or another aligned with the route of and easily accessible by the L train.
- seem to be living with the false notion that geographically, there is some linear relationship between all the brooklyn neighborhoods and that the further into the borough one travels, in this straight line known as the route of the L, the less desireable the neighborhood.
ah, if only brooklyn's geography and neighborhood hierarchy were that simple, you silly, silly manhattan snob. if only!

I very kindly drew up a visual interpretation, this nifty diagram here!

(editor's note: map geographically inaccurate & not intended for navigation purposes.)
the manhattan snob's idea of brooklyn:
Desireability of neighborhood directly proportionate to hipness and proximity to manhattan from one single direction.


I've also been unfortunate enough to have known a few who probably visualize it as seen in this representation:

Yeah, this one is um..... a little less elaborate.

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Sunday, May 15, 2005

oh, that reminds me

All this talk of Adam Green brings to mind yesterday's happenings. I haven't seen Kimya Dawson play since that Knitting Factory show way back in early December, but I went last night, and oh dear, The Pharmacy opened -- if I hadn't learned my lesson the first time.....

I've only known The Pharmacy in terms of "the godawful opening band from the Moldy Peaches reunion show at The Hook in October, that I heckled during the breaks between songs with the guy sitting next to me on the bleachers." (Then later on we heckled some more outside while we waited for Kimya and Adam after the show.)
Lucky me, I walked in in the middle of their set and for about twenty minutes my ears bled. But, to my delight, they played "Dance With Me" (!!!!!!!!!) at the end of their set, which REDEEMED ALL. Hate to say it, but they played a hell of a rendition of that song, vocals not withstanding.

I had to drag my ass to Williamsburg for the 200th time in the last three months, this time to S. 1st. Now we all know kimya isn't big on playing "proper" shows at establishments designated for providing musical acts with proper stages and sound systems (real clubs), so it came as no surprise to me that I ended up at an "experiential art space" just paces away from Kent and the Western "bank" of the East River. I think within five minutes of walking in, I was already close to suffocating on the cigarette smoke in there, I felt like I was in Maxwell's, only Maxwell's isn't CRAPPY. My initial reaction was, "oh gee. how astoundingly clever and ironic to name this place the Glass House Gallery when no part of it is made of glass! a windowless brick & cement building named the Glass House Gallery. teehee! Clever, CLEVER."

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Saturday, May 14, 2005

Adam Green, where has your love gone

4.25.05: NEWS ITEM HERE.
So, unless this "Greenpoint, NY" happens to be a little rural farming county somewhere upstate, I'm going to be VERY angry.

Adam, my dear, do your loyalties stray? What is this?
That boy is South Brooklyn royalty; he is our representative to the indie rock community, and even now that he spends most of his days in Germany, he is an honorary South Brooklynite.
Now what irked me initially was that the webmaster emphasized the Greenpoint part, very clearly with intention, by calling it "Greenpoint, NY"..... speaks for itself, doesn't it? Obviously the people over at Adam Green Co. determined that Adam's decision to shoot the video in Greenpoint (of all places) was not only mention-worthy, but worthy of an unabashedly boastful declaration. How else would one explain how such heavy importance is put on "Greenpoint" that it needs to be succeeded by ", NY" for FURTHER REITERATION of its enormous significance? Like it deserves to be acknowledged as a separate geographical entity unto itself, that it must be referred to, with all due respect, as Greenpoint, NY? It couldn't merely have said "Brooklyn", or, if the webmaster absolutely must, "Greenpoint, Brooklyn"? Really, Adam Green Co.?
And, you see, what the webmaster neglected to say was:
After Adam finished the filming on his new video, he headed on over to Enid's for a bite, where he camouflaged easily into the congregation of Enid's patrons that had gathered there like they do on any given day, indescernible from every other skinny, mussy-haired, blazer'ed indie rocker in the place.

This is not so simple a matter as Adam Green shooting his video in Greenpoint, no, this is Adam Green committing treason, in essence. On a large scale, this is about the enmity between Brooklyn's two major artist colonies, separated by Fort Greene and connected by the G train. These are serious matters of F train vs. L train, of Smith st vs. Bedford ave, of Banania Cafe vs. Enid's. Now we all know many South Brooklynites look upon North Brooklynites with disdain -- their deplorable living conditions, their obscure little socialist establishments, their, um ambitious "artistic" endeavors. And in this rivalry, Greenpoint/Williamsburg has steadily maintained their status as victor, because even while South Brooklyn encompasses more neighborhoods, North Brooklyn occupies more space and its bohemian population is generally more concentrated. There is a greater sense of unity and community as the threat of gentrification that developers and developments bring loom dauntingly near. Oh, but that's exactly it: that is a defining attribute of the Carroll Gardens/Redhook/Boerum Hill/Park Slope/DUMBO beatnik, dissident, urban bohemian, what have you. They see themselves as less of a whole or network and more of a republic. Not to say that there's any scarcity of neighborhood pride within those respective artist enclave communities, it's just... that they're less militant about it. Adam, oh Adam, one time ambassador to South Brooklyn, HOW COULD YOU? If not Adam, somebody oughtta show South Brooklyn some love!

Now, neighborhoodies -- that's one institution that's doin' things right. I walked into their Brooklyn store a couple weeks ago, the Boerum Hill branch, and immediately several clocks arranged in a vertical column captured my interest; each was labeled with its own plaque. They lure you to examine them closer, and you approach curiously, expecting to find London, New York, Tokyo, Paris, Berlin, etc; instead you get Redhook, Park Slope, Dumbo, Fort Greene, and either one or two of the following: Cobble Hill, Boerum Hill, Clinton Hill, and.... possibly Caroll Gardens, but I think I distinctly remember acknowledging its absence on the Time Zone Clock wall. (And no, obviously there are no time differences between clocks.) Located at the very back of the store, opposite the door, the plaques above their respective clocks draw you deep into the store to the back wall and tempt you to read them. Very clever. Props to them for conceiving that idea. But the first thing you notice, after marveling extensively at the brilliance of the idea, is the void on that back wall. They chose their neighborhoods with care and consideration, and the absence of any clock representing either of the North Brooklyn neighborhoods was no accident -- rather, it was a gesture of disrespect and ill will. You looked at that column of clocks and you just knew they had deliberately excluded Williamsburg and Greenpoint. But really, would you have expected anything less of them? This was neighborhoodies, after all! And I was delighted. I was nothing short of elated to see that North Brooklyn love had no place in the good Neighborhoodies community. If you've followed Neighborhoodies and its growth and expansion as a company for as long as I have, you know that they have at no point in their history ever acknowledged Greenpoint, and they CERTAINLY have never acknowledged Williamsburg. It's against their nature. They have just gone along ignoring the two neighborhoods like nothing north of Fort Greene or Clinton Hill is even worth recognizing. (And blessed we are for this; thank you Neighborhoodies.) They have deliberately avoided the inclusion on their website of people pictured wearing anything that reads "Williamsburg" or "Greenpoint" across the front. No, indeed there is no north brooklyn love to be found over at Neighborhoodies. And understandably there isn't. Just think how ludicrous it would be to put "williamsburg" on any article of clothing. That... would be dangerous territory to be wandering into. You'd be hanged within but two minutes of stepping outside, regardless of where you live.

Huge kudos to Neighborhoodies for setting up their staging area/HQ in DUMBO... their preference of DUMBO over any of Brooklyn's other industrial districts reflects directly on where their geographic loyalties lie and their feelings toward the giant mutant unified artist super-community that is Greenpoint/Williamsburg. And how 'bout the decision to put the Brooklyn store in Boerum Hill, huh? We all know that neighborhoodies is selective as hell about location so it comes as no surprise to me. You broadbandless bitches gotta haul your asses down to Atlantic ave. for your neighborhoodies fix, or order online and wait for your crap to be delivered..... ha, they're punishing you.
Neighborhoodies: representin' South Brooklyn, baby.
(Unlike Adam Green.)

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It was just one of those nights....

Completely missed Locksley at CBGB. Why the hell do they like that place so much anyway? Goddamn it. Shithole needs to CLOSE. I want that smug little colossal awning taken down and I want the place gutted. I think I just might hate it more than Northsix. What a fucking DUMP, what a staff, what a holier-than-thou attitude..... Some clubs just gotta learn to master the art of DYING. (and being converted into homeless shelters)

Now I was faced with a dilemma earlier today: Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah at Maxwell's, or Locksley at CBGB? Locksley at CBGB won out, because, while I'm a casual fan of CYHASY and would love any excuse to go to Hoboken and Maxwell's again, I like Locksley more. And after the Locksley at CBGB show that (at least for me) never was, I was left to wander. Had I any clue WHEN CYHASY were going on, I might have GONE. But alas -- oh, I assumed it was too late in the night for that too. IT WASN'T, I realized when I returned to my dungeon living quarters at... five to midnight(?!) and checked the maxwell's site. If I'd headed there upon leaving CBGB, I would have arrived on time with at least a solid half hour to spare.

When in doubt, ALWAYS GO TO MAXWELL'S.
Not CBGB.
(just make sure you have the extra $3 to spare to take you to Hoboken via PATH.)

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Tuesday, May 03, 2005

aim conversation excerpts

her: i tried to be really nice. i think i was too nice.
her: she's so whiney
her: if i dont...baby her...
her: with my wording of things
her: "blah blah blah. hurt!!!!"
me: HAHA
her: "blah blah blah kathleen blah blah blah blah hard life you dont understand!!'
her: i feel more like her mother than her friend
me: that is hilarious
me: no seriously


skip down a couple lines and we arrive here:

her: so i need to see her
her: because I WANT MY DAMN BOOKS
her: i wanted to start studying when i got the scores back
her: but nooo she cant tear herself away from him long enough to give me my shit back!@
her: stab stab stab
her: hes a bastard
her: shes an idiot
her: they're both dumb
her: the end
me: AHAHAHAHA

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