gross oversight

I think the first time I heard this album was at the end of 2003, to be honest. I had some super early advance and I don't think the person who sent it to me knew when or if it'd be out. I was convinced that it came out in 2004, and it kinda did, but I guess the official release date was March 2005. I could be wrong about some of that. The memory's fuzzy, but I do know that I've loved Regina Spektor for quite some time now, and since Soviet Kitsch officially came out in 2005, it belongs on my 2005 best of list. Even though I don't have the album anymore. I lost the advance. Anyway, she makes me warm and fuzzy. It's probably the best album that kinda did but kinda didn't come out last year. As if making best of lists wasn't geeky enough, I've had to make up an addendum.

the great thing about dogs is that they don't realize what a loser you are

Today's been good and disconcerting at the same time. That's pretty much the story of my life. I think I had some kind of work-related nightmare last night; either that or it was related to how much money I don't have.

For some reason, I've been feeling the need to be more "active." I made up my mind to get out and "do things." I came to the realization that though it seems really far, the park is really close by (about as close as my job is) and that I had no excuse not to walk to the park on a regular basis other than being a lazy fat ass. Seeing as I have the dog again this weekend, I figured this was the perfect time to institute my "more active" plan and take a walk to the park. Perfect of course, except for the fact that today was the windiest, nastiest, chilliest day of the year. (In case you weren't paying attention, there's that whole good and disconcerting thing in action.)

So this morning, I woke up out of that nightmare thing, and I realized that I never heard my alarm, which I set this morning (even though it's fucking Saturday) so I could get up early and take Dog to the park and then take him, with me, to work. On a fucking Saturday. However, when I put on my glasses so I could check what time it was, my clock read 4:06pm. It was a total WTF. And I was initially pissed at myself, but then I realized there's no way I could have slept 13 or so hours without waking up once. I turned on my TV to check the cable time and, luckily, it said it was only 10:30am. I thought that perhaps in my daze the night before, I'd accidentally set the time instead of the alarm. But really what happened was, we had a power outage.

I took my time getting up and then me and Dog head for the park around noon. It was windy, cold and miserably damp, but it wasn't really raining. Just misting...coldly. Dog was stoked, though, and so was I. We made it to the park, and it was a shorter walk than I had anticipated. We took the trail for a little while until we came to a softball field. He found a grungy-ass stick in the mud that we ended up playing fetch with. I talked to him the whole trip, and I think on the way to the office, he was pretty embarassed to be around me. I think at one point, I was singing popular songs to him, but doing my best to stick his name in there somewhere. He was mortified.

When I got to the office, I found only one person working there. She said "There's good news and bad news. The good news is, I'm here. The bad news is, the server's down." That power outage? Apparently it affected the entire town and it lasted just long enough to outlast our back up battery. All the stuff we needed to edit or save was completely inaccessible. At least the Internet worked so I was able to crack out on Myspace. I spent an hour or so on the phone with our IT guy trying to get the thing up and running. Our dialog was something like this:

Me: "Okay, done."
IT guy: "Good. Now try to restart."
Me: "Okay. Restarted."
IT guy: "Now log on."
Me: "I got that message again."
IT guy: [frantic typing] "Hm...Let me call you back."

Finally, we both got it up and running again. I'm sure I had nothing to do with it, but I'll take partial credit for it anyway. I was able to get a good amount of work done and I split out of there by 7:30pm so I could walk and feed the dog.

I got home and fed the dog, then had to answer the call of my bowels. Unfortunately, I'm a bit of a toilet paper hog, and tonight, our pipes weren't up to the task. Usually, I'm like a fucking Roto Rooter with a plunger, but this time the works were gummed up good, and our toilet had a mini eruption, sending water onto the floor. We don't get a newspaper so I sopped up the water with about a roll and a half of toilet paper. Since I was in there and wet and miserable anyway, I decided to clean up a little. I mopped, washed the towels, cleaned the bowl, sink and shower doors. I couldn't really get the tub though because we don't have Comet, and that's the only stuff I know how to use. Still, I was happy with the results.

I microwaved some leftover pizza and it tasted like ass. Then I went to a local rock show. It was super packed because the kids are back in town, which was cool because it turned out to be a great show. All the bands were good and some of them are my favorites playing around here. I had fun, even though I mostly flew solo--like always--and had a few drinks, but was unable to say much more than hello to someone I've really been wanting to talk to more. That kinda bummed me out.

When I got back from the show, Dog was happy to see me. I threw the ball around with him and felt less emo. To make myself happier, I put on some music on my computer. I remembered that one of the goddesses of rock Annie Hardy did an acoustic medley of Misfits covers for Get the Fuck Up Radio out of Los Angeles. Here's the link. It's worth downloading and listening to over and over again. (It's an MP3.) After that, I put on Pinkerton. So much for feeling less emo.

national treasure

Thanks to pirates, the record industry has been throwing a hissy over the past few years. I'm sure people who are file sharing does make a difference, but I know that's not the only thing causing record industry to lose money. I will say that even at my office, even before we were producing a national publication, we receive a ton of music. Everyday, CDs in giant padded envelopes arrive for the four or five editors, our publisher, and sometimes some of our sales and marketing folks. Sometimes we'll get a copy of a specific CD. Sometimes we'll all get more than one copy of the same CD. These packages cost $3 and up. Sometimes they're sent priority or express or over night. If we're getting that many, you can imagine how many Spin and Rolling Stone are getting, nevermind every indie rag, fanzine, local entertainment weekly, what have you all over the country. Downloading that Kelly Clarkson track off eDonkey seems like a drop in the bucket.

To combat this, the record industry has been putting all sorts of copy protection and things of that nature on their CDs. As for some of the advances we get, some of them are discs created especially for me, bearing a watermark with my name and my company's name on it, and each track is tagged so if any of them are discovered to have been illegally downloaded by someone, it can be traced back to me. And I guess I'd be forced into a labor camp or have to write bios for boy bands or something like that.

Today I got a package for Lacuna Coil containing their upcoming CD Karmacode. I'd interviewed two members of the band over the phone, and I'd been waiting to hear the new album so I could write up the story. Unfortunately, I'd only been able to hear the single when I spoke to them. It's covered with red warning labels and has my name printed all over it. It had also been sealed with a sticker that had another warning on it and a prompt to read the back for terms of use. They are:

• This CD is for your use only. You must not sell or give or lend the CD to anyone else.
• You must not copy the CD by any means or give or lend a copy to anyone else and in particular you must not make it available on the Internet.
• You must keep this CD in a safe place and take care to ensure that it is not taken or copied by anyone else.
• CENTURY MEDIA (that's the record label) reserves the right to require return of this CD if it believes that these terms may have been breached.

As you can see, it's a lot of responsibility, and if you're wondering if I'm allowed to lend or copy the CD, the answer is no, I can't. I'm not going to, of course, but I appreciate paranoia. I haven't used a file sharing program since Napster got Lars Ulrich-ed and I had to escape to WinMX, which I think got the hammer dropped on it. It's been a long time is what I'm saying, and I don't do it now because I have more music than I can possibly ever listen to, especially since I can't get the same albums I listened to in high school out of my regular rotation. This one isn't as harsh as some of the others, though, which is cool. I can actually play it in my computer--there's one type that causes your computer to freeze when you put it in--and it doesn't say I'm not allowed to play it for anyone. I don't know who I'd play it for, though. It's actually better than I thought it'd be, and that's always cool.

Today I switched the house's cable into my name and I got some super big package I can't afford because I get it super cheap for a few months. I'll enjoy it while I can. After going back to work and doing little else but Myspacing, I came home around 11pm and watched National Treasure with my roommates on On-Demand, which is the greatest invention ever. The movie was goofy as fuck, but it kinda ruled, too. I love conspiracy theories, and if I had the time, I'd get into them a lot more, even if it seems like the make a movie about the Freemasons/Knights Templar every week or so.

that's fire

I saw this at The Superficial and it makes my scrotum retract into my body. I think watching it enough will make you go sterile.



You'll thank me later.

no good deed redux

[I was supposed to post this last night, but shit went sour. -ed.]

I've been making it a point not to do too much late night eating. I don't eat much as it is, but I've been doing my best to keep it at just my regular two meals a day. So far, I lost the holiday weight plus another pound. This made me happy.

Tonight, however, after watching 24, and having maybe too many beers, the small meals I had for lunch and dinner just weren't cutting it, and around midnight, I realized that the alcohol in my system would make tomorrow a pretty shitty day if I didn't get something to eat. The queen bee was over, so she drove me in her giant SUV down to the de facto diner so I could grab some ham and eggs. And an English muffin. Outside the diner, I was confronted by a very grizzled old man. I'm not sure how old he was, but he had that worn, mangy look of a man who'd been living outside for quite sometime. His voice was very gruff, and he said, "excuse me, man, but could you..."

My mind filled in the rest. I told him I didn't have any cash on me, which was true. I hardly ever carry cash anymore, because I'll spend it, lose it, or give it away, and unfortunately, every dollar counts. I just use my ATM card, which probably causes my money to dwindle away even faster.

Then he said, "No, man. Could you buy me a bowl of oatmeal?" It bothers me that this country have so much and still people can't afford basic needs like food. I'm not going to get on a pedistal, because I'm sure I'm not doing anything to help matters none, but I'd like to think that on a person-to-person level, I do what I can. He asked me to buy him a bowl of oatmeal, and I wasn't going to say no to that. I told him I would, and he said, "with brown sugar and cream." Beggars have every right to be choosers.

I sat down at the counter and ordered a plate of ham and eggs and asked for a bowl of oatmeal with cream and brown sugar to go. I'd asked him if he wanted it to go, and he said he did. I noticed he had a large bag at his feet, and he didn't look like the type who stayed in one place for too long. I was the only person at the diner and my food came almost instantaneously; in fact, it came out so fast, I wondered how safe it was for eating.

It was fine, especially the ham (the hash browns were disappointing), and towards the end of my meal, the oatmeal was presented to me in a large styrofoam cup. I was at the diner for all of ten minutes. I paid the tab and walked out with my bag of oatmeal, but when I got outside, the grizzled man was nowhere to be seen. I walked around the building once, then stood in front for a minute. There was no bag, no trace of him. I couldn't think of what else to do, so I took the oatmeal home. It's on my kitchen counter. I can't help but wonder, though, what happened to the guy, and if he'd gotten someone else to buy him something to eat, or if I really saw that dude at all. I do know what I'm having for breakfast in the morning, though.

[I didn't eat the oatmeal this morning, in case you were wondering. -ed.]

today's tom sawyer

That's the creek at the end of my block. I just wanted to put it in some kind of perspective. I took the picture with my cell phone at right around sunset. Further in the background of that photo is where homeless people have set up a kind of encampment. There used to be a lot more living along the banks and there's still a lot of clothes, liquor bottles and things of that nature that have been discarded along either side of the creek. I doubt the homeless people left all of it though, as I'm thinking that people who live in the surrounding neighborhood also dump shit there figuring that everyone else will just blame the homeless. There's one tent that has been there for a while, and I know there's two guys who live in it. For living under a tarp on the side of a creek, it looks like a pretty nice set up. It gets cold here and all, but never that bad, and night time in the summer is just about perfect once the humidity burns off by the middle of July. Plus, since this is a college town, this place is prime for dumpster diving. We're talking quality stuff that's barely four years old. I've seen rich people circling dumpsters in the more upscale college apartment complexes. Anyway, I'm not trying to romanticise being homeless. I know it sucks, but what I am saying is that if you are homeless, you could do worse than living here. Unfortunately, the town's not as pleasant for those of us who do have homes, and with the wages you can make here, I'm pretty sure that you can make a better living asking for change downtown.

I did just about as little today as I did yesterday, so I'd rather not bore myself with the details. I decided to keep myself busy, though, in an attempt to fight off the doldrums, and it worked. I cleaned and vacuumed my room, put my clothes away and vacuumed the living room and the area around my computer, also. Riveting, I know. But I am listening to the new Concretes album right now, and it's really good. It's happy and suicidal and happy about being suicidal. It's called In Colour and I think it comes out in the States in March.

Other than football (it was nice to see the Seahawks win their first conference title), I watched a couple of movies: Ocean's Twelve, which I liked better than I thought I would; and Two Days in the Valley, which was pretty uneven, but there were parts I really liked. I think it was Charlize Theron's first major role or something, and they had her all done up like a giant, Swedish Bond girl. It was pretty dope, plus she gets into a nasty catfight with Terry Hatcher (who was all young and stuff). But that's not the only parts I liked. Promise.

not for all the tea in china...

Because I've got nothing better to do than sit in front of the computer tonight (the dog is totally bored with me), I found this link on Neil Gaiman's blog for a live performance by The Magnetic Fields, which is a band I'd like to get a lot more into. Good stuff for a lonely Saturday. Not only is he a wonderful writer, but apparently he's got good taste in music too.

quality time

My friend who's in town still hasn't called, which leads me to believe he won't be calling, which may very well be a good thing because I've been in the same sweatpants all day. The only time I've ventured outside was to go down the block for a burrito and to take the dog for a walk. I'd take him again now, but I don't have a leash for him, and he likes to test my boundaries. Around noon, we walked down to the end of the block and crossed the small foot/bike bridge that crosses the creek (it sounds like I live in a Twain novel). The dog ventured off ahead and started exploring the area along the bank of the creek. He was still in my sights, but I really don't trust the street on the other side of the creek. It's kinda tucked back behind busier streets and seems to have "my dog got hit by a car on that street" written all over it. I called out to him to join me, and my first call went more or less ignored. I knew he heard me, but he preferred to play that whole "garsh, I'm just a dog and can't understand none fancy human speak." But he wasn't fooling me one bit. I marched closer to him and called his name again. This time, he perked up. I'd seen through his elaborate rouse, and now he was playing the loyal card. He jogged closer to me, but he did so while walking in the middle of the street. I hugged close to the bank of the creek and kept calling him to get out of the street, but he just kept jogging--moving with a bouncy gait, his ears pert and his gaze fixed at me, daringly. "Oh look at me. Dog in the street. Hope nothing happens." I know he looks like a saint, but I swear there's malice in those eyes. We also played fetch a few times in the yard. The neighbors were blasting Iron Maiden live. It was pretty awesome. I miss having a dog.

As much as I say I'd like to just do nothing all day, I find I have to force myself to stay inside. Even know, I'm checking my phone to see if it rang without me hearing, as if that was at all possible. Not going out makes me depressed. I've been in sulk mode most of the day. I'm totally uncomfortable when I'm around people and going out, but when I'm staying inside, the fact that there's no people around and there's nothing to do makes me uneasy. It's a mystery.

I did watch a couple movies though: Teaching Mrs. Tingle, a "thriller" with "actress" Katie Holmes (it was actually kinda fun, but I missed the ending because the dog wanted to play fetch--see! Malice); Saved with Mandy Moore (I really liked that one, even though it got kinda sappy and typical towards the end); and With a Friend Like Harry a French movie that was creepy and well acted, but really didn't go anywhere, ever, but made me feel kinda gloomy (it was really very, very French).

saturday night i'm thinking louise

I spent all day listening to Pinkerton at work. Unfortunately, I left it there, but this is why I have to constantly buy my favorite CDs. I leave them places all the time. I'm always carrying them around. As I listened to it, I tried to think of the various places I may have left my original copy. I narrowed it down to my old car or perhaps even in the stack of CDs I'd brought to listen to at my old job at the comic book store. We had a five-disc changer there, and what better place to listen to songs about how you're not getting laid than at a comic book store.

I think we had a meeting at work, but I may very well have zoned my way through it. I'm not really a meetings person. I did do some work, though, and scurried around to make sure my writers got their pay checks and also did some mailings. It felt good, because those things were all tasks that actually required me being at the office.

My phone was off all day, and though I'd been looking forward to it all week, I seemed to forget that I'd be watching my surrogate dog for the weekend. His owner was supposed to call me and let me know when he'd be in town, but I didn't discover that my phone was off until after I left my favorite Chinese restaurant well after 8pm. I saw that I had messages, and when I checked them, I heard the dog owner tell me that he was on his way into town and would be here around 7. I freaked, because it was an hour late, and I was still a good 20 minute walk from home. Oh, and it was raining all over me. Luckily, though, that rain was snow up in the mountains, so it took him a while to drive down, and now I'm happy to say that the big ol' hound is resting happily on my right foot as I type this. He's keeping me warm because, since my roommate is gone--the dog's momma--I haven't turned the heat on, and I think it's in the mid-50s in here. Nice and frosty. The way I like it.

I'm weird that way when it comes to indoor temperatures. I like it kinda chilly in the house, but when it is kinda chilly in the house, I make sure to wrap myself in a blanket or put on a sweater if the cool temperature is getting to me. I'm wearing a hoodie now, with the hood up, but there's no way I'm turning the heat on. I may, though, if I start seeing my breath.

I also saw the second half of the obnoxious four-hour 24 premier tonight, that I had taped, with some people from work. It was pretty awesome. More explosions, more whisper-yelling and the dude who played Rudy and Sam the Hobbit was in it. Fuck yeah. I think what I love about the show is how seriously it takes itself, like because they have presidents and terrorists as characters, it's that much more meaningful or whatever. Afterwards, we all drank some more beers and I think we started philosophizing, but beers make me do that sometimes.

I'd try to make sense of it all, but I'm tired and I'd like to go to bed. My partner in strip clubs is coming into town tomorrow night, so there may be another tale of the tip rail in the queue shortly.

see!

This is how batty Lars von Trier is.

I had no idea going into it. And luckily, the Russian bootleg I watched was without dead donkey. I still think it's an amazing film, though.

life on the farm

I just finished watching Manderlay, which is the sequel to Lars von Trier's Dogville, starring Nicole Kidman in one of her best roles. If you've seen any of von Trier's films, you'd know that they're not easy viewing. Dancer in the Dark starring Bjork, was very, very sad. A great movie, but so very, very sad. I get sad thinking about it. And it was a musical, too, but still. So sad. It's really worth watching if you want to be compelled to drink whisky in bed, curled up in the fetal position and crying your eyes out all night. I didn't do that when I saw it, mind you, but I'm sure the thought crossed my mind.

Dogville wasn't as sad, but it trumped the sadness card by being very, very disturbing. It was very, very disturbing in a kind of matter-of-fact way, which made it even more disturbing. I think I only saw it once, but I can still remember it so vividly. Nicole Kidman's amazing in it portraying the central character, Grace, whose role is reprised by Bryce Dallas Howard in Manderlay. Grace is a helpful kind of character. She means well, or at least that's how it seems, but perhaps she's idealistic to a fault. I don't want to go too much into it, because I still haven't made up my mind about her. It's a fascinating character, though. Anyway, in Dogville, Grace happens onto a small town by the same name in Colorado, I think. She's running from something but no one's sure what. I exchange for hiding her out there, Grace does stuff to help the town's inhabitants, and then shit gets fucked up.

In Manderlay, Grace happens on to a plantation in Alabama, even though it's the 1930s. It's a powerful film with amazing peformances. I was happy to see Danny Glover in a prominent role, because I haven't seen him in a film in a long time, and he was really good in it. Bryce was excellent as Grace also. I wasn't sure how I'd take to her considering Kidman was so good in Dogville, but I thought she did an amazing job, even though the fact that she obviously doesn't carry the same star power diminished her somewhat early on. Usually, I'd rather see an unknown, but there was something about seeing that role played by a big name actress that made it even more effective. That's just my opinion though. I really liked Bryce, and I hope she comes back and does the third part of the trilogy.

That might not happen, though, because I've heard stories about von Trier. The man's an amazing and provocative director, but he doesn't have much of a bedside manner, so to speak. I heard that Kidman really wanted to come back and reprise the role of Grace, but working with von Trier was such a trying experience, she refused to work with him again. I thought maybe this was just an isolated incident, but I also heard that Bjork, after completing Dancer in the Dark, was so distraught from her experience with von Trier that she not only refused to work with him again, but also said she never wanted to do another movie again. Ever. That's crazy. I'm not sure if that's true, but it's fun to spread rumors anyway. I mean, if the guy's so insane that fucking Bjork won't go near him, you know something's up. That bitch communicates with elves!

PS. Since Bjork could probably unleash valkrye-like fury on my ass, I retract the bitch comment. It was used simply in a failed attempt to be colorful.

in which we discuss the king of whisper yelling and another goddess of rock

I watched the premier of 24 last night, which was kind of a mistake. I hadn't watched the last two seasons because I know that it's perfectly geared to gnaw on my obsessive brain. But my Lost buddy asked if I was going to watch 24 this season, and since it's kinda fun not to watch TV alone, I said sure. Predictably, after three major players died in the first 12 minutes of the two-hour first part of the four-hour tw0-night premier (the most obnoxious season debut in television history), I knew that I'd basically just signed away 24 more hours of my life.

Really, though, the show's fucking good. And Jack Bauer is clearly the man. Everything's so intense. There was a scene in which Bauer, living undercover, the world believing he's dead, has breakfast with a family he's kinda glommed onto in his new life as a civilian, and even that was set to pulse-pounding music. Never has drinking OJ from the carton been so suspenseful.

But really, what sets Jack Bauer apart from the rest of his heroic ilk is the yelling. Kiefer Sutherland has the perfect yelling voice. "PUT IT DOWN!" "I NEED TO SPEAK TO THE PRESIDENT!" "I SAID NO FUCKING GUAC!!!" But his yelling really excels when he's whispering. It may be Kiefer Sutherland's greatest contribution to the craft of acting--whisper-yelling. There was this scene between Bauer and this other dude where all they did was whisper-yell, and it was off the chains. I tried to duplicate it at work today, but it was no use. Kiefer has a gift. Luckily, he uses his powers for good. Not evil.

Later this week, I'm supposed to interview Cristina Scabbia of Lacuna Coil. I don't know why I said I'd do it. I don't know much about the band, but I do remember checking out a CD of theirs once and I wasn't crazy about it. I've been researching them for the past couple of days, because I'd like the interview to turn out well, and like I said, I know little about them. That's Cristina right there if you haven't figured. And yeah, I noticed. Where do they grow these women? I mean really. I spent most of the day researching her and the band--sometimes my job's pretty cool--but I kept getting distracted, obviously. Eyeing photo galleries isn't really much for research. What I did find out? Well here it goes:

1. Revolver magazine named her one of the hottest women in metal. No offense, of course, but Revolver probably neglected to mention she's like one of four women in metal, fans included.
2. My initial reaction to their music was probably because it wasn't what I was expecting. I was looking for something more ultra goth vampire metal, but got something very hard rock with a gothic edge (and clothing). Really, their more like a more goth/less Creed rock version of Evanescence (a guilty pleasure), but Lacuna Coil's been at it much longer. It's still not my thing, really, but I'd kinda like to see them live, because I'm sure they'd probably put on a really theatric show, and I think a lot of bands think they're above actual showmanship.
   
3. Cristina used to be a session musician for pop and R&B records, but left all that cash behind to join a rock band, which is admirable.
   
4. She's also all about PETA.
   
5. She's totally Italian, accent and all, but I knew that already.
   

I still don't know what on Earth I'm going to chat with her about, but I guess I'll figure something out. If I was a true gangster, I'd whisper-yell all my questions, though.

why there's an internet part 7,809

Web toys are fun for the whole family. One of the people I don't know on my Myspace buddy list (but I graduated from high school with her) usually leaves me perverted cartoon comments. One of them was kinda raunchy, so I deleted it. I checked to see if she just spams them to everyone on her list, but I couldn't find hard evidence. Anyway, she sent out a bulletin with a random name generator that is meant to determine your "prison bitch" name. I wasn't aware that your...uh...bitch master gave you a name when you became his/her bitch, and frankly, I'm glad I didn't know. but seeing as we're in the information age, there's really no avoiding it. What's your prison bitch name? Mine? It's "Baby Buns." Ms. Jackson if you're nasty.

the professor

It's been my roommate's birthday for the couple days. In this town, birthdays seem to last more than one day. Sometimes they span entire weekends, and other times, as was the case with my most recent birthday, they can last upwards of a week or more.

The last two days, we've been celebrating my roommate's birthday, and it's been a lot of fun. Thankfully, it's been a lot easier on the liver than the 10-day bender I went on for my big two-nine, though yesterday, we did get a good drink on. She played her weekly soccer game at this indoor place over by the neighborhood park, and we sat in the bleachers and drank from thermoses of rum and coke. Afterwards, we went to the punky biker bar for a couple of drinks and some shuffleboard before returning home to after party it up and watch the special edition of Office Space, which is a sadly accurate depiction of modern day America--and also one of my favorite movies.

Tonight was very mellow. One of her friends came in from out of town and they spent most of the day out. I sat in my room and tidied it up. My parents bought me a pillow bed and some kind of memory foam cushion, so I washed my sheets and turned my ratty twin bed into a tiny little piece of heaven for these tired old bones. I also watched some movies and played some video games and washed the dishes, I think, but that was about all the excitement I could really muster. They went out to dinner, and I took a long hot shower while blasting Takk... and, coupled with the smell of fresh Irish Spring soap, was transported to a magical and steamy place. I felt like I might want to go out, but I wasn't entirely sure. I had to return a movie anyway, so I took a walk downtown and figured I'd reach a decision before I got there. I didn't...and then I just ended up walking home. My roommate had returned with a couple more friends, including an older gentleman who I thought must have been a professor at the university or something. He had that kinda look.

And they were all really stoned. They all looked like they were moving in slow motion and their eyes were pink and squinted. Everyone was smiling and holding glasses of wine, and I got a seasonal beer out of the fridge and injected myself into the gathering. I noticed there was a metallic apparatus on my kitchen table.

"Did you see the Volcano?" my roommate's boyfriend asked me.

"I was wondering what that was," I said. "What is it?"

I was told it was a vaporizer. I used to be a pothead myself, and I've lived with potheads ever since I moved out here, so I knew what that was, but I'd never seen such an elaborate one. The Volcano belonged to the professor.

He saw me looking it over, and he said, "here, let me show you." Then, he launched into his dissertation. I don't remember it word for word, but it went something like this:

"You turn it on and then wait for the light to go on. When it does, then you attach this little recepticle with the marijuana inside, screw it on tight and then there's this bag thing attached to the other end of the recepticle that fills up with smoke. When the bag is full, you detatch the bag and recepticle and then attach this valve-like thing that allows you to take hits off the bag of smoke. The Volcano is hot enough to burn up the THC, but not hot enough to burn the leafy material so you get 95 percent of the THC without all the carbon and other stuff, which means you get 50 percnet more of the THC which is the stuff that gets you all high and what not, with out all the lung-blackening other stuff. It's the best way to smoke, man."

He also explained why it's good to have papers to prove you need medical marijuana, but I kinda knew that already. In California, he said, you're allowed to carry up to a pound--a fucking POUND--if you have one of those medical marijuana cards.

I have been getting migranes lately...

Anyway, I enjoyed the informative little lecture. I never did catch what the man did for a living, but I'd still like to think he was the Stone-y Professor. Stoners, I've noticed, always throw percentages around when talking about ways to increase your high. I never had a problem with increasing my high when I smoked weed. That stuff made me batty, and I loved it. We used to have a friend who went up to SUNY Albany, which is a notorious partying school. He was into the percentages, too. He'd say things like, "coughing increases your high by five percent, because it opens up your lungs more," or "smoking cigarettes increases your high by 15 percent." I don't know where he got those figures from; I think they came from ripping too many bong hits with his RA or something. One time, he was going to come down from the dorms to visit, and he told us he'd be able to score us some LSD, which I hadn't done before. I was a little wary about doing it, but I figured, what the fuck. Beforehand he kept trying to give us the rundown of what supplemental materials we should have to help us along on our trip. He said to get extra cigarettes because we'd end up going through a lot of them and that "drinking orange juice would increase our high by 22 percent, because of the vitamin C," or whatever.

I didn't drink any orange juice, but he was right about the cigarettes. I'd light them up, forget about them and then start another without even noticing.

the goddess of rock

At work, with the help of my new headphones, I've fallen in love with my goddess of rock, Pandora. R told me about it recently, but I totally spaced, which happens often. More recently, one of my coworkers told me about it because she was trying to make a contact with the people who started it and suggested that maybe we do a story on it. Since I'm obsessed with work, I tried it out immediately, and immediately, I fell in love.

It allows you to make your own radio stations based on a band or song that you really liked. I was trying to be clever, but not too obscure, so for my first station, I opted for the dearly departed Meat Puppets as a starting point. The first song Pandora played me was a track off of Huevos, and I was impressed. However, during our first meeting, Pandora could only whisper her sweet nothings to me through the rattiest pair of headphones in the known universe. One of the speaker arms was broken and latched precariously to the headset via old electrical tape that had all but lost its tackiness, so that it took on a somewhat slimy and gummy consistency. Also, neither of the speakers had its factory-issued felt covering, so when I wore the headphones, the hard plastic dug into my sensitive ears. They're sensitive, dammit. They didn't sound very good either. But I put up with it, basically because I'm broke and really, really lazy.

For Christmas this year, I asked only for one thing--a nice pair of headphones. Nothing too fancy, just something nice and comfortable with good sound. Santa Parents responded with a pair of Sony MDR-V150 Dynamic Stereo Headphones. Compared to where I've been, these things seem like heaven. I can even hear bass. Bass!!! And the separate channels of the stereo are dynamic (as the name would lead one to believe). The best part is, though that the ear pieces are lined with two ring-shaped cushions. I'm wearing them right now, and I'm not even listening to anything! They can also get pretty loud if I want them to, so I'm able to drown out office noisiness and transport myself into J world, which is where I like to spend most of my time.

Anyway, the Meat Puppets station is working out even better than I thought it would, and today was particularly mindblowing. I heard "Negative Creep" by Nirvana, two songs by Hot Snakes and the most perfect song ever created "My Sharona" by the Knack. I think on a subconscious level, every song I like follows the same structure as "My Sharona," or at least, I process the song in my brain so it sounds like "My Sharona." I don't know what's going on, to be honest. It's just amazing. Anyway, I've also been turned on to a couple new tracks, well, new to me, that I really like. The best one being "Sheila" by the Georgia Satellites, which is the band that did that country-ish song "Keep Your Hands to Yourself." I really liked that song growing up, to be honest, but "Sheila" doesn't sound anything like it. It's more power pop and rocking without the kitschy twang. It's super super good.

While I was at lunch, I got a phone call from my friend back home. He and his wife are having a baby (well, she is, but you know), and today they had the first sonogram. It's going to be a boy. I tried to convince them to name it after me, but I don't think that's going to happen. They're going to go with Lucas instead. The nerve. I'm really excited about tricking this kid into calling me uncle, though. One of the women I work with also had a baby recently. In fact, she had it on New Year's Day, and it was actually the first baby born in the county, which made the TV news and the front page of two papers.

In March I'm going to have two new roommates, but luckily, I won't have to move. If I did, I'd probably just leave the state, because I think it's ridiculous having to move three blocks away from your old place. This will be the first time that new people will be moving into my house. I've only had experience filling spare rooms in other people's homes. I'll try to keep the suspicious glances to a minimum.

pandemonium

For some reason, I get the feeling this year's going to be very unsettling, so I'm trying to make myself as comfortable as possible. For Christmas, I requested a couple pairs of pajama pants and a pair of sweat pants to wear around the house. I'm in pajama pants now. I'm also reclining back in the cozy chair left here by a previous tennant. I hope she doesn't want it back.

I'm also going to eat less red meat. I've been on a big chicken kick lately anyway. I'm not going to cut it out entirely, just not as much as I used to. Ditto for alcohol...well, maybe not. But I have been taking it very slow with that too. I was feeling really crappy by the end of last year, so I'm hoping to turn it around in small doses. How long this keeps up is anyone's guess, really. A lot of times, I forget what I've set my mind to. Of course, I waited till the bird flu thing started moving eastward to go on the chicken kick. Maybe I'll switch to fish.

I've also been trying to keep my spirits up by keeping myself entertained. Other than the Smashing Pumpkins CD, I also picked up a used video game yesterday with that gift certificate. Dej Jam Fight for New York, which is a hip-hop-themed fighting/wrestling game with the likenesses of Ice-T, Method Man, Xzibit, Ludacris and other rappers. It's a lot of fun. I was able to create my own character, who bears my name, and I did my best to make him as cracker-ass honky as possible. I'm proud to report that virtual J is kicking serious ass in the seedy underbelly of New York's illegal fight clubs, and is also fitting in very well, though his voice sounds like that of a wacky brother on a TGIF sitcom. He's even all blinged out, tatted up, dating virtual Lil' Kim and chilling with Method Man. Wu-Tang Clan ain't nothin' to fuck wit. Shaolin represent.

I'm kinda jealous of him.

Today, with a Borders gift card I got for Christmas, I got Weezer's Pinkerton, which I also lost, and two books by Neil Gaiman and Dave McKean: Coraline and There's Wolves in the Walls. The order even qualified for free shipping and came out to a lesser amount than my gift card is worth. Understandably, I'm stoked.

I've also been watching a ton of movies on cable seeing as I haven't really been going out. The other night I watched From Dusk Till Dawn. I forgot how awesome that movie is. It's not high art or anything, but Robert Rodriguez knows how to put a violent exploitation film together, with out it being all pretentious like his buddy Quentin (but I have to say I like Tarantino's films too). The plot's really direct: two criminals (Tarantino and George Clooney) kidnap a minister who has lost his faith (Harvey Keitel) and his two children and force them to drive to Mexico. There, they're supposed to meet up with one of Clooney's associates, but the place turns out to be a strip club of the damned and everyone who works there are vicious, evil vampires including Salma Hayek, who struts her stuff as Santanico Pandemonium in pretty much one of the sexiest scenes without nudity or, y'know, sex, ever put on film.

It's hard to go wrong with Salma Hayek. She's so hot, she has an online gallery dedicated to her feet. She always looks good, and even now, just about 40, she still looks good, which makes me think she'll probably be doing a romantic comedy with The Cusack soon. In From Dusk Till Dawn, she's even more ridiculous, playing an evil, domineering, vampire stripper queen. I mean, that's almost every fetish covered. Pretty impressive considering she's only on screen for about 15 minutes. Throw in the accent and--well--the phenomenal rack, and you've gone one convincing argument for TiVo. Anyway, there's his one part at the end of her burlesque number where she struts out across the stage and walks atop the table that Keitel, Tarantino, Clooney and the kids are sitting at and grabs the bottle of whisky from off the table top and pours it down her body so that it flows down her leg and into Tarantino's mouth. I guess if I'd been downing alcohol like that, I wouldn't have much desire to cut back on my drinking.

sadness makes me happy

Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness is number two, I think, on my list of all time favorite albums, but it's not a very distant second. In Utero's number one, with Incesticide as a close third. (Weezer's Pinkerton and Sonic Youth's Dirty round out the top five, but there are a couple like Murray Street, Who Will Cut Our Hair When We're Gone and In the Aeroplane Over the Sea I know it's cliche to list things in such a manner, but I remember when I was a teenager, I used to make lists of my 40 or 50 favorite songs. I guess I always knew I kinda wanted to do what I'm doing. And I swear I've been doing the list thing before I saw High Fidelity, which is one of my favorite movies, though I'm not sure what rank I'd give it.

Like all my favorite CDs, I lose them constantly. I listen to them a lot and in a lot of different places. They get left in cars, forgotten in CD changers, placed in other cases and so on. Mellon Collie has been out of my possession for a few years now, which really has been far too long. But I haven't been able to find it anywhere at stores, until yesterday when, armed with a $30 gift certificate, I entered a local record store and found it used for $14.99...with the two booklets and everything. I was pleased. As I went to sleep, I popped disc one in my CD player and realized it was one of the first times I'd actually listened to a larger portion of it not under the influence of marijuana. It's still really good, though, and it brings back a lot of memories. I'm glad I got it back.

aught five gone bye bye

I'm back in California and mired in post holiday depression. I have no hopes or aspirations for the new year except I'm looking forward to the rest of the second season of Lost, and I may try to get laid sometime. If I get around to it. My sister got a spanking new Mac Mini for Christmas, so she gave me her old PC, meaning I actually have my own computer again, and I'm totally using it right now. I hope this means I will be going out less. Looking back, 2005 wasn't entirely awful. Things happened, and not all of them sucked. I drank and rocked out and got older. This year I'll turn 30, and though I know 30 is the new 20, I'm still not looking forward to it. I'm feeling really worn out. Anyway, here are the albums I thought were swell from last year--a lot of good music in the '05:

1. ...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead - Worlds Apart: I got this one in Nov. of 2004 on a really early advance, and I loved it then, but it didn't come out til Jan. '05. It's passionate and violent and subversive and though I think it could be called overwraught, it's heart is everything that's good about rock music. A masterpiece.

2. M.I.A. - Arular: This one seems to be on a lot of lists because everyone is putting it on their list, but fuck it. It's probably the best album of the year. "M.I.A got the beats that make you bang."

3. Giant Drag - Hearts and Unicorns: Familiar, fun, addictive, perfect. "My Dick Sux" makes me wail and sob like a sea creature while pumping my fist in pure rock glory. No one seems to know this album exists but people who write about music for a living. I guess we're the lucky ones. Annie Hardy, will you marry me?

4. Gorillaz - Demon Days: Who knew cartoon characters could be so haunting? It's really bleak, but still a lot of fun. "Feel Good, Inc." is probably the only real single on the album, though I know they released others, and even that one's kinda dreary.

5. Rogue Wave - Descended Like Vultures: Even better than their first. If this keeps up, they're going to become my favorite band. I can't wait to see them live again.

6. Sigur Ros - Takk...: This album makes me want to climb a glacier, raise my arms and shout triumphantly up to the sky, then ride that glacier across the arctic and feel the cold air whip tears of joy from my eyes. Or something like that. I don't know what the fuck they're yammering about, but whatever it is, I feel you man. I feel you.

Honorable mentions: Cat Power - The Greatest (I haven't gotten a chance to listen to it that much yet, but it's a nice turn around. Chan's not so mopey this time around and puts together some really good soul songs); Rasputina - A Radical Recital (It's a live album, but it kicks total ass, I couldn't stop listening to it); Silversun Pickups - Pikul (Just an EP, but if it's any indication, the full-length that's coming out this year's gonna kick serious ass).

Here are my five favorite songs from last year, in ascending order:

5. Giant Drag "My Dick Sux": Wailing and sobbing, I tell you. The opening riff is the sweetest thing I've heard in years.

4. Fall Out Boy "Sugar (We're Going Down)": Fluffy emo pop goodness. Even though I hear it every five minutes, I still kinda rock out to it. Damn you, Fall Out Boy.

3. The Killers "Mr. Brightside": "Jealousy, turning saints into the sea!!! Swimming through sick lullabies!!! Choking on your alibis!!! But it's just the price I pay!!! Destiny is calling me!!! Open up my eager eyes!!! 'Cause I'm Mr Brightside!!! ...you should hear me sing that, or some semblance of it, in the shower.

2. Shakira "La Tortura": My palms are getting a little sweaty just thinking about it... I'd say it's got nothing to do with Shakira covered in grease paint, writhing around like a serpent in the video, but I'd be totally lying. And I love just about any song with the word "Corazon" in it.

1. Kelly Clarkson "Since U Been Gone": So I'm not a 16 year old girl. I don't care. The first time I heard this on the radio, I thought it was Avril Lavigne. When I discovered it was actually a Kelly Clarkson song, for whatever reason, I liked it even more. I guess this one was a guilty pleasure for a lot of music snobs, but I feel no guilt for liking this song. Not one shred of shame or embarassment. It fucking rocks. Okay? It pops like the finale of a fireworks show over the radio. I love it when Kelly screams "again and again and AGAAAAAAIN" and then everything stops for a beat and then that one crunchy guitar comes in by itself for a measure or two. Fucking epic. YEAAAAH YEAHHH!!! Slay it, Kelly.