Vice becomes Renaissance

Both of the loyal readers of this blog may have noticed some not so subtle changes to the look of the ol' page. Gone is the flying pig of yesterblog, replaced with a much more contemplative and i hope, meaningful pilfered image. The old line about "swagger and emmys" is also gone, replaced with an Alforism (1) of meaningless depth that nonetheless holds truth for liars and intellectual thieves like me. YES, this blog entry does have footnotes, so fucking deal. The sidebar too, contains some interesting additions including a Barack Obama link for those of you who are realistic enough to know that he won't win the nomination, but ideallistic enough to believe he should, and a link to the world of dorky wonders that is DIGG. I've also done something almost unthinkable in days past and included a quote by Hoffstadter who i have always considered the Christopher Hitchens of his day (Correct, but kind of a dick).

"Why?" i can hear the ADD afflicted begin to holler internally. Fingers twitching at the mouse, ready to check out the Swedish chick who yarfed on YOU TUBE. Friends, i am experienceing one of those moments where i feel i have rediscovered my basic me-ness. Often i get mired in self-loathing (2) and indulgent mopiness about career and life, and forget what a great gift it is to be me, here and now.

I have many people to thank for this, but the whole damn thing can be traced to three things.



My friend Amanda Barnes and her superb musical taste.

I can't begin to express how fantastic it is to be friends with someone who is not a pain in the ass about being a musical genius. Mere mortals (Myself included) are rather retarded when it comes to music. When they discover something , they become covetous and snotty. Keeping their new musical finds to themselves, trying to one-up each other in obscurity and devoting themselves to a band who may or may not be a flash in the pan, or worse a big hit. Immediately I think of the pain in the ass Radiohead and Dave Matthews fans. Remember Dave matthews? Yeah, he had some sucky college band that stoners and frat boys thought was deeply musical when it was in fact, only incessant. Radiohead? Oh yeah! You take something that sounds like a computer belching, and add to it a whiny and misanthropic fetus, and again use the ol' Greatful Dead/ Phish technique of making your songs enternal, and you get a slightly more snobbish group of self congratulating stoners and former frat-types.

What makes Mandy so absolutely brilliant is her ability to find the ONE. There are sucky bands out there who by the grace of god manage to fart out one song that epitomizes a moment in time (3). Mandy will find them, fuck them (Musically of course, not literally) and not call back the next day. Musical one night stands. On the other hand, she can recognize musicality. You know, complex chord progressions and shit we don't understand but gives us goosebumps. Like a timpany in the middle of an orchestral swell, or a choral peice during a particularly bad/good moment. Mix this with the ability to visually connect the possible longevity of a band, and you have a music machine (4). In my world, these people are called either misanthropes, because they live lonely lives filled with new dicoveries and lack the skills to share them, or Record executives who aren't people in the strictest sense of the word. When you have such a person and they happen to be a wonderful and devoted long-time friend with some basic people skills, you thank the universe for it, beg for mixes and suggestions, and pray to god you don't fuck it up. More than ever my life is full of fun, creative sounds that aren't brutalized by mass taste, electronic enhancement, or kitsch, and I have Amanda Barnes to thank for continually pointing me in the right direction.



VICE MAGAZINE

Disgusting, wrong, snobby, filthy, sexy, deviant, no concept of advanced algebra. No, i'm not quoting my high school teachers, I'm referring to my new online guilty pleasure. Oddly enough, i have found a friend in a magazine that dwells on some of the beautifully grotesque and harsh moments in life. The closest i've read in any sort of Hip-Lit to a reality that i enjoy, this may be the only widely read lifestyle mag that i look forward to, like all the girls i wanted to fuck in high school looked forward to teen beat, and people magazine. I swear, looking at the Afghani opium trade and sweaty chicks in 80's clothes makes me remember life's worth living, and keeps me from snapping an Actor's Demo DVD and using it as a shiv on the rest of Beverly Hills.


MY PAD

Yeah i have an awesome pad. I own a bar, my room is sweet, i have adult fucking furniture, and three 8 foot Oudry paintings that will adorn my far wall. You know what? After moving from shithole to shithole all around LA, living with a cunty girlfriend and innumerable roomates with fucking issues about how i shouldn't piss in the bathtub, or leave my underwear in the living room, i finally have a place that they all wish they had the taste to adorn, the money to afford and the fuckwithal to trash and clean at their leisure.

In short, my life rules, and my blog will shows it.


1. An Alforism (literally distinction or definition, from Greek αφοριζειν "to define") expresses a general truth in a pithy sentence repeated by Alf because he finds himself clever.

2. When I draw comparisons to Hunter Thompson (See Blog Postings Feb. 2005)

3.THE BLOW,THE MOUNTAIN GOATS, MIKA

4. CLAP YOUR HANDS SAY YEAH, LILY ALLEN