I Kan't Spell
She Said it Was Free
I was running. I wasn't really running as much as I was eating the wind in front of me. There were trees like blurred like hurled cabbage flying passed my face. I had no reference point to the world as I was in joyous pursuit of smiles at the end of a hallway decorated with photos from my youth and present. My feet were light and my hands reached out to touch the leaves and satin wallpaper as I marched on with tireless breath and cool sweat lessening the burden on my back. There I finally stood in front of a door.
There is a sign over the door "magic theater-entrance not for everybody." I looked back at the hall and there was only black space. As though I were walking in the exospheres. My body would evaporate if I reached back into the obsidian night. I would take my fist and slowly raise it to the door. Knock? What would I knock for? This is my door. This is my life. These are my steps that carried me here. I have no need to ask permission from this door or from what may be behind it. I created you and your magic. I created the world that brought me here, and there will be no such door that impedes my ability to carry on.
I walked through the door and on the other side was a little man in a white coat. It was a mouse in a white coat and he ran away. I looked around at the room. White, it was pure white. There were 4 sticks of furniture. There was a glass desk, and 3 silver chairs. I was now dressed in all white and could not see my feet save for the silver buckles that were on top. I sat down in the chair on the right side of the desk. I put my feet up on the desk. I checked my watch. I lit a cigarette and tilted my head back to the ceiling. I saw the history of man playing out above me. I saw the birth of the embryo to the cough of the dying. I saw all life. I took a deeper drag off my coffin nail and blew a giant ring to the picture show.
The little mouse in the white coat came out and said, "He will see you now." I rose from my seat without question and gave a slight chuckle as I looked for a place to ash.
What the hell is a Lexicographer?
Lexicographer was my favorite word for about a hot week back in '03. It is someone who writes dictionaries. Samuel Johnson wrote the first dictonary and this is the 250th anniversary of it. It wasn't THE first one, but it was the first one not written by French monks. Just a little interesting piece of history - it took 40 French monks 40 years to write the first dictionary. It took Samuel Johnson 9 years by himself and with the help of 3 file clerks to write his. His was also much more encompassing and included synonyms, pronunciations, and Latin/Greek root words. Samuel Johnson often goes overlooked in the "Great Minds" department but in my short-lived history and small intake of knowledge, he is deserving of every breath of 'greatness' thrown his way.
Here is an A-Z account of Samuel Johnson's legacy provided by the BBC. Also, if you have heard me mention the Bosley Biography - that's in there too - Bosley was amazing and quite a character himself. Enjoy!
Blogs and Life
I'm working in DC for today. I really don't have much to write because I'm not in a writing mood. Reading other people's blogs is sometimes the worst thing in the world. And I don't mean the blogs of people I know in the actual flesh, I mean reading people's blog of people I know in the actual flesh and then watching those people fawn over fake utterances of crap that come from people they will most likely never meet. Anyway - I wrote something on that just for the hell of it -
Looking in on Life From Behind Bullet Proof Glass
I would consider myself to be a tad strange. I'd like to think that most people remember me in one way or another. I also would like to think that I engage in many aspects of life from the corporate luncheons to the back alley casinos. I have without a doubt lived a full life up to this point. I have never really met anyone with as many stories about crazy shit as I have to tell. Therefore when I look at other people's lives it's almost as though I'm looking at them through bulletproof glass. It's as if I see them and I can attack them but there is no way on God's green Earth they can attack me back.
I often have imaginary conversations with people I wish were with me at that moment. Most of them are made up phone conversations involving women lusting after me on a late night booty call kind of thing, but once in a while I'll get to having a conversation with a real possible scenario or subject attached to it. These conversations somehow ready me for something more. They prepare me for real situations. They prepare me to be some sort of weird James Dean wizard somehow. It's as though I want crazy shit to happen to me, much like a woman would fantasize over a rough lover after years of simp husband love or the way a man would fantasize about space travel or sleeping with Brook Shields. I say "much like this" but my fantasies aren't really like those at all. I want to be able to dominate situations that involve guns in my back, and 50 thousand dollar deals, or getting people together with the right people. I want to one day run something and be head over heals involved in a life that no one can touch. I want a dream that will cause you to gamble everything to possible achieve nothing. I want the freedom that comes along with not caring. I want disengagement from everything I find petty and sad.
What I see from most people, and it's only as of late, is the ability to be brilliant but the inability to use that brilliance. I once said to my Father,
We are wonderful beautiful feeling creatures capable of so much horror and so much love. Why do we choose neither path? What about our soul makes us want to be a 0 on the PH balance? Why is it imperative to so many people to only be artistic and animalistic in comfortable surroundings? Why is apathy so easy to attain yet ascension to our dreams is even difficult to fathom?
I read people's blogs and I think, "Wow. Fucking wow! What an amazing person."
If I met most of these people in public I would think, "Wow. Fucking wow! What a waste."
Laugh more. Have stories to tell. Live an interesting life with goals that drape on the human soul like ornaments on a Christmas tree. Have lots of sex. Eat rich foods. Live well. Fight people for no reason. Break something from time to time. Scream your anthem over the rooftops of the people that so snuggly sleep under the blanket they provide themselves with through soulless pursuits of the mundane. Do what makes you smile the MOST. Don't just do what makes you smile from time to time.
Drive to my house. Scream at my window and let me know you love me. I would do the same for you.
Let go of inhibition and understand what it's like to be human. Have you ever seen the deranged euphoric faces of people who do things that you consider to be obscene or outrageous? You know, people who go to nudist camps, people who have orgies atop a mountain underneath the moon, people who have rituals involving blood or animal sacrifice. We look upon these rituals with disgust, as they don't fit into our culture. But these people are living stories. They are doing things that cause instant euphoric hedonist gratification that can elevate the soul.
I write this because I see the shambles of souls throughout the world everyday. I know how smart they are. I know what they are capable of. What separates them from the world that their ancestors used to run naked through? What instinct has died in them? How good would they feel if they found out how to rekindle their human spirit? What would the world look like then?
I had a premise for this post that ideally wanted to say how beautiful everyone seems to be in their blog but how bogus they must be in their real lives. Because I read a lot of blogs and I can't remember saying more than a handful of times, "Wow that is horrible writing." But I see people every day and I want to absolutely cry for them. I want to shake them from their clothes and shower them with cold water. WAKE UP FROM YOUR COMA! You are not your blog. You are not what you read. You are how you live. Do not preemptively substitute your own way of life in hopes of vicariously living through one that does not exist.
This message brought to you by dc WIFI.
For All Your Sad Bastard Needs
Live Ryan Adams Galore - and it's from the really good years. And for you hardcores he even plays some old Whiskeytown in there as well. Enjoy - Thanks Large Hearted Boy you are the best mp3 blog around - combines news and mp3s - mainstream and off the wall - and he's even given me recommendations on 3 books that I have read -
Get all your media stuff here - RYAN ADAMS -
Weekend Update on Monday
Ok - so over the past few weekends I have run into numerous people that I now know read this thing. I don't know how often they read it but I do know that when I go into a bar and 4 people come up and either yell at me for not updating enough or tell me to stop writing about chicks or sad songs and then reminisce to me about their favorite post, I know I have some people reading it. And since I hate phones and call no one ever -
I am here to say that Swizzle's (Susan, John's (Babs, TS, Train Station) Girlfriend, Swizzle Stick, Switch) birthday is on Saturday. There will be a keg. There will be lots of people and you are all cordially, well not cordially, but openly invited to attend and enjoy good company with good people. 1414 light. Swing by - bring some beers - pull up and hang out with people you haven't seen in a while and that you know would want to see and hug you. If you are some weird person I have never met then - no you aren't invited - unless you are a girl - then you can come by and hang out...wait - unless you are a girl that is going to get into an argument with me at some point.
Oh and bring Swizzle a present - she likes bubble gum.
Some sad new to start out Monday; my dog, well actually Mirel's dog, then my Mom's dog, died this week. She was inflicted with Cancer in her leg and though that leg was amputated and she was moving around for a good while and playing, the cancer eventually spread into her spine and she had to be put down.
Hunter was easily the best thing that happened to my Mother in a long time. Though Mirel and I both loved the dog we were far too young and selfish to give a dog that wonderful the kind of love it needed. My Mother on the other hand needed just that kind of a dog in her life. She needed something to love and take care of and that would love her back. Hunter gave her that outlet. And seeing the dog pass was much harder on her than it was on anyone else.
I loved Hunter in my own way as well. The faces and quirks of this tamest of Rottweiler's made me smile more than any animal I had ever owned or been in contact with. Rotties, are nice dogs, but Hunter was affectionate and in an odd human way, delicate, sensitive, and very shy. We taught her tricks and she gave my family, in it's final months of being a family, it's only real mutual joy together. The only conversations we ever had that were of genuine sincerity and good will were about Hunter. We would talk about how she had her own language and about how she would take care of our older Rottweiler, Titan. We would hold her pudgy little face and try to make her tilt her head so that we could smile and hug her.
She was a good dog. And to be honest, I'm actually getting a little choked up writing this. I never get choked up at death. But, to see an animal who was a best friend to so many people when they needed it, makes her worthy of my sadness and makes me willing to mourn her.
Hunter bear - will be missed.
Danny Boy and Criag Me Boy are in town this weekend. How awesome is that? I can't wait. Of course - hmm - nope. I can drop it for them. That makes me happy.
Funniest Corporate Story Ever
So I'm working for some swanky danky company in Cleveland - lol - I know I know I know - Cleveland (sorry 2L) - anyway - So, they have me on the executive floor for the day wrapping things up and going to meetings and writing things and basically just reallizing that I finished yesterday and they want to somehow get their money's worth for the week. So I'm up there and...wait..I have to describe the executive level.
Executive levels of corporations are like fucking country clubs. They have big leather couches, water fountains, huge plants, 20 foot ceilings, weird art, people with trays (made that one up). But it's like you aren't even in a building any more. You feel like you should be going outside to play tennis any minute, "Ohhh Bob. What's say you and I go hit a couple?" - "Cheerio Scharfy." I mean it's weird. But the weirdest thing about this was that there was a bathroom attendent in the bathroom.
So we break for lunch, and I'm not into catered lunch because I like to be outside as much as possible. So before I head down to the bottom level I use the bathroom. I walk in and there is a fucking attendant. I mean stereotypical bad attendant. It's an old black guy in a maroon vest with tuxedo pants standing erect as an arrow. There is music playing overhead which I think he controlled. But, I'm not sure. So I walk in and do my stuff, and then walk over to the sink. I'm not wearing a suit so he thinks something is up.
"What's up man?"
"Sorry sir. But this is the executive wash room."
"Yeah dude. I'm working up here today. Umm - is there like a hand shake or something I need to know."
"Only the kind that has a folded bill in the palm."
See - at this point I know I've been made as a mark. So I'm going to have some fun.
"What dude? Do I have schmuck written on my face?"
I go to dry my hands at the opposite end of the bathroom. When all of a sudden - and I shit you not - Wrex in Effex comes on with Rump Shaker. RUMP SHAKER is playing in the bathroom. 'All I wanna do is do my zoom zoom in a boom boom. Just SHAKE YOUR RUMP!" It's not real loud but I heard it from the first beat. My chin fell right into my chest and I started laughing.
"You gotta be shittin me."
"Rump Shaker man!"
At this point, I give him a dollar and do a - again shit you not - a Michael Jacksoneque pirouette in the bathroom and say "Yeah!" I then did my patented -
Bathroom attendant *slap
That is the greatest corporate moment I have ever had.
Airport Internet For That Ass
So despite evil's best intention to kick me in the nards - I have rebounded because I am on my way home to my friends. Or as she would call them...oh...well - let's just not start slandering people just yet. So anyway, all airports now - well most - have WiFi - it's great - the problem - it's not fucking free. I'll pay for it because I like it, but what kind of crap is that to charge for bandwidth already being provided. All they did was erect a little tower to funnel the correct protocol and now it's $8.99 to connect. That is awful. I live in Baltimore and haven't paid for Internet in almost a year. Why? We have free WiFi. Our city doesn't charge it's people 8.99 everytime they want to connect you bastards!
So anyway - I have about ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh - 5 hours before my flight and I thought I would sit here and admire my new "Congratulation you now have stock options in a public company that you work for" Brooks Brothers tie. I never really wear ties any more. But, a man can never have too many. If just for show. I mean shit my entire closet is for show. I have't worn that stuff in years. Well...I used to get dressed up from time to time in Korea but not really. I don't even really care that much anymore. People who put on good clothes that are just mediocre good clothes really - sort of irk me - there is no thought other than - "Oh I bet someone will think I look good in this." or "How can I get this to hang or sit so that people know it's Fendi." Where as I think "Whoa I hope this becomes a conversational piece by the end of the evening." And sure enough 3 times a night I hear, "Dude love the t-shirt." or "Nice jeans." Wait...WAIT! NO! My jeans! They died! Oh well... Where as those people will hear, "Oh my god. I look EXACTLY THE FUCKING SAME AS YOU DO! Maybe we can take home the same boring people to fuck! Awesome! Hi-FIVE!"
Anyway - so what to eat - here at the "Rock n Roll" bar. Oh, I know, Double Remy and a Bud Bottle. What? You don't have Bud Bottles. No no no no. I'm not drinking draft beer. Ummm... hmm... C..oro...na? I say with a shy impassive voice to not let people hear me.
Weekend - So...Tennis...hopefully some Church. Hopefully some Sparky. Umm - maybe some Turner's. Maybe - - - some poker. I'm in town next week work for *Big Energy Corporation from Indiana* so I'm in no rush. Plus, it's Easter. I know - I'll go to the Easter egg hunt on Federal Hill on Sunday. Maybe I'll umm... I dont know. I never really know. I'm rambling. I'm going to try to write something worth reading. You got suckered into reading this far...
It's Public Now - Oh Boy
What does this mean - who knows? Raise - maybe (=yes) - Moving - Probably - Lay Off? (maybe) - Career Move (Awesome!) - This is a huge move in the industry.
Sorry no - link - don't need track backs to here. Umm if you are smart you will figure it out. But it was good news for me today. Just thought I would share that. I'm on my way home.
DAMNIT! Fest calls me and says - "Take a flight home now. Uncle Sparky is coming up." And on the other end of this you readers say, "So...So.." And to that I say "You haven't lived until you've spent an evening with Uncle Sparky." It's not as though Sparks is that live. Actually most of the time he's pretty laid back. But man - if you get him rolling there is no one that will embarrass himself or not care about what anyone else thinks as much as Sparks. Maybe me - maybe fest - no no fest - but maybe me - "Isn't that bad?" you ask. Umm... depends. But, for this 10 year group of friends, hell no! That kind of stature is revered and bronzed and looked upon from on high by the mighty God of booze. That quality of having the ability to head butt anyone in the joint and then turn around shrug your shoulders and order 7 more shots is the thing that we most appreciate. It's the ability to truly let all people that don't matter fade away and let all things with minimal reprocussion slide.
"You guys are assholes."
"Not really. You just suck. But you know what? We have a thousand times more fun than you do. You hate your life. Go away."
*man what I wouldn't give to hear that tonight. Just one time...it's such a great line.
And then 10 minutes later those same people are back wanting to join. Because we don't discriminate against anyone. If you have jokes and you are also willing to let things slide and laugh at yourself then you can become a temporary member for a night. Just don't hate us when you get your bar tab and it looks like you just entertained a college basketball team to a night out at Ruth Chris.
What ever happened to Shane, Deano, Nick, and Dale? - ahh they all grew up a little I guess. Or maybe they weren't that way to begin with (a little they all were I guess) and they eventually found their own friends who match that vibe. Well Uncle Sparky is in my vibe. He is always in the "Oh OHHH I don't give a shit" vibe. That vibe suits me just fine. Oh and by the way - they give this guy a gun. Man it's like license to take a champion killer pit bull out. If I was there I would hug and kiss him, but instead I'm going to go out and have a toast to their evening. Crush 'em all gents. Crush 'em all.
I Love When Shit Works
Ok so my job - right - umm - here it is - I fly all over the country (man that sounds cooler than it is) and I go to work for these huge HUGE companies with gigantic humming server rooms that are kept at 50 degrees where you have to wear static free clothing and booties. There are guys with 3 id cards and codes and armed guards in front of the door. And in rolls me, red eyed, stenched with booze and I sit down to a screen the size of Ray Lewis's TV and people stand around and watch me. Well, not now while I'm typing - because usually I have like a ...I guess you would call it... a practice computer in another room. I always insist on having an outside connection. You get locked in the "Glass Zoo" for too long and you start to go nuts. These places fly you around, take you to dinner, let you stay in the sweetest hotels, even try to get you hooked from time to time. It's not a bad rap.
Anyway - so I cruise in and I hit a bunch of keys *warning technical talk for my technical people coming up*
So there you go..that's me. I'm a fucking nerd. But those who know me - really know I'm a damn rockstar and sometimes when you go out to these places you vibe with a customer so well that the week flies by and you sort of want to stay. That is of course if what you do works.
That leads me to my other point. My job is difficult. My company's infrastructure is going through change and our support system is pretty slim. So if you get stuck, well..then..you get stuck.
Me: "Oh nothing. Just let me call my support team." *dialing
Customer 2: "What's he doing?"
Customer 1: "Calling his support team back at *company name*"
Me: *on the other end of the phone "The time is 2:15. The Time is 2:15" * Hang up.
Customer 1: "So what did they say."
Me: "Thay have escalated the issue, have some idea, and hope to get back to me by CoB. Who wants lunch? I'm starved."
Customer 1: "We already ate lunch."
Me: "Well then. I'm going to hit the head." *Pray in bathroom and think of ideas.
You can't pass the buck because you are standing in a room that's 50 degrees with guys in Outlet Armani Suits, that paid 4 grand a day to have you there, and they own Volvo's, and are worried about having to put wallpaper up over the weekend in their new sitting room. Anyway - so when the shit hits the fan and things break, well I tend to freak out. I'm not what you would call "cool under pressure" in this way. I'm a jumper. I'm a frog on a lilly pad. I'm a cat on a hot tin roof if you will (one of my favorite characters of all time).
But...see... when you get it to work. WHEN YOU GET THINGS TO WORK! Then...THEN boys and girls life feels amazing. I used to give this spiel to the people I used to teach and they bought it and you know what, I didn't have to sell it. Because it's true. If there is one good thing about working as a programmer or problem solver or whatever is that you get to go out there and solve puzzles every day. Some days the puzzle falls apart and catches on fire. But some days you put all the pieces together and look down and do the little programmers lean back in the chair and maybe a self high-five on the way to the bathroom.
It's not the same as closing a deal on a million dollar house or winning a big case. It's not the same as driving a truck or filing papers all day. It has it's own rewards and that reward is, that deep down, you know, that other people can't do this. It would take someone, I don't know, at this point in the evolutionary scale of computers, 10 years of face time with a DPI (oh yeah). Now that's speaking about someone with no computer background. I'm not saying I could do those other jobs either but eat shit every day and then someone throws you a beam of light that makes you feel good and watch you get reall smug.
Anyway - I love when shit works. Today I love my job. I come home tomorrow. I need a drink and pack of Dunhills and damnit if I don't want to play poker til the sun comes up and I have to go to bed at 8 am and yell "WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINGS" at 9:15 am.
The Most Amazing Airport Move Ever
So my flight is delayed by an hour. Of course I went to the only smoking bar in any airport, other than Vegas. I get my usual beverage. Relax and see my bartended from last time. When you get noticed in airport bars, you may have some issues. I finish up. I'm feeling good. I look at the board. My flight is no longer delayed and is on final boarding. On the way there I see airline provider has a direct flight to Cleveland. It too is on it's final boarding. I stand their and I'm miffed. "What the fuck? Why wasn't I on this flight to begin with?"
"Hey, my man. Do you think I can get on this flight?"
"No way. We are boarding."
"I'm a Gold member." (obviously not a gold member)
"Yeah, I'd appreciate it if you let me on."
"Absolutely sir. First class is ok I presume."
"That's a little bit of an upgrade, but sure. What's the difference in price?"
"For Gold members. No cost."
I get on the plane. I am served a cookie and a glass of milk.
"Sit back and relax folks we'll be in Cleveland in 40 minutes."
Sam Beam is Amazing
Sam Beam of Iron and Wine is turning into one of my favorite Song Writers - The New CD Woman King - is really good - it's a shorty but it's so worht it - it's slow dancing, neck touching, breahting into each other's ear, singing music - We all know our share of Jezebels:
who's seen jezebel
she was born to be
the woman i would know
hold like a breeze
that was tight as both eyes closed
who's seen jezebel
she was walking where
the ceders line the road
her blouse on the ground
where the dogs were hungry roaming
we swear we'll love you more
and holy jezebel
who's seen jezebel
she was born to be
the woman we could blame
maybe a beast
to be the same
who's seen jezebel she was gone before
i ever got to say
lay here my love
your the only shape i pray to
and who's seen jezebel
with the mountain last
long as i can wait
wait like the dawn how
it longs to see the day
and who's seen jezebel
she was certainly
the spark for all i'd done
window was wide she could see
the dogs come running
we swear we'll love you more
and holy jezebel
I listened to La Cienega Just Smiled all day yesterday - today it's another Ryan Adam tune - - - This always reminds of the crazy aunt I wanted or an old mistress that you would like for you to show you the world - - or even a crazy lover that has no remorse about her actions. Plus I love Sylvia Plath in real life anyway...
I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
Busted tooth and a smile
And cigarette ashes in her drink
The kind that goes out and then sleeps for a week
The kind that goes out on her
To give me a reason, for well, I dunno
And maybe she'd take me to France
Or maybe to Spain and she'd ask me to dance
In a mansion on the top of a hill
She'd ash on the carpets
And slip me a pill
Then she'd get me pretty loaded on gin
And maybe she'd give me a bath
How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
And she and I would sleep on a boat
And swim in the sea without clothes
With rain falling fast on the sea
While she was swimming away, she'd be winking at me
Telling me it would all be okay
Out on the horizon and fading away
And I'd swim to the boat and I'd laugh
I gotta get me a Sylvia Plath
And maybe she'd take me to France
Or maybe to Spain and she'd ask me to dance
In a mansion on the top of a hill
She'd ash on the carpets
And slip me a pill
Then she'd get me pretty loaded on gin
And maybe she'd give me a bath
How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
I wish I had a Sylvia Plath
Dance to Your Ocean
There is, as always noted by all, an inner peace. There is a calm. There is a deep ocean of ease in all of us. It's found in a laugh, a cry, a meth addiction, an orgasm. It's there twirling around like a big bowl of pudding. It's with you when you smile and look forward to the day or the night or the insertion. It's with you around every turn and every choice. It is a driving factor.
Sway with the slosh of all that you hold as ease. Let yourself eat too much chocolate.Then let yourself throw it up. Feel the fingers in your throat. Feel the life and the blood rush through you. Feel your alone calm that no one else gets to share. Try to dry your eyes. Let people see the tears and then avoid direct contact via mouth or oval. Let your hand tell you where to walk as a watering stick tells you where to dig for the well. Let yourself swim alone out where you never go.
Follow the inner swell as it crests and then crashes. It crests and crashes. But we don't live at that outskirt. We live in the deep swirl. We live our lives in that middle. We live out where it is dark and cold and unforgiving. It is not unforgiving to the whale. It is easy for the jelly fish to navigate the abyss. As it is their home. Same for us. We feel at peace in our abyss. We feel at ease knowing it's our deep. We dance with it like we dance on our Grandmother's toes.
OASIS NEW ALBUM DETAILS!!!
Title/Track listing etc...
DON'T BELIEVE THE TRUTH
Turn Up The Sun
Love Like A Bomb
The Importance Of Being Idle
The Meaning Of Soul
Guess God Thinks I'm Abel
Part Of The Queue
Keep The Dream Alive
A Bell Will Ring
Let There Be Love
That week in June is gonna be alive - for the first time I am going to say that I am 'saving' money for something. I figured *** will be dropped in a week of travel, entertainment, fine food, and finer booze. Hop along - take a week off of work and watch us go down in flames!
I've Had Just About Enough of the Kiddie Porn
Everyday when I check my links/search terms for how people got to my site from Sitemeter I always come across disgusting things. My most reliable links are people trying to ping me, JVMM, song lyrics, or Baltimore bars -- but all too often they look up something like this: (most of them find me by mispellings but I'm still not happy to be found)
pics 4-11 litle boys fucking
Korean pussy make hot
you slammed your face in the crowd
*personal favorite* = pitchers of escolades (oh man I cant get enough of that one)
edgar degas fucking
little boy and their web cam sex photos
Papa Roach tattoo
skinny dipping dudes
*proud of this* = double dickle
- so that's my website in a nutshell - oh God allow me to shutter (shudder?) for a second.
So what did I learn - Well 1) I'm gay! and 2)Stop writing about Korean hookers who screw boys in Mexico while getting tattoos of Papa Roach and skinny dipping nude after you slammed your face in the crowd. I know what I just did was awful by listing them but I always cringe when I go to see how people get to my website.
All Day I've Listened to "La Cienega Just Smiled"
"Ah the night...here it comes again"
It's on with the jeans, the jacket and the shirt
How'd I end up feeling so bad
For such a little girl
And I hold you close in the back of my mind
Feels so good but damn it makes me hurt
And I'm too scared to know to how I feel about you now
La Cienega just smiles..."see ya around"
And I hold you close in the back of my mind
And raise my glass 'cause either way I'm dead
Neither of you really help me to sleep anymore
One breaks my body and the other breaks my soul
La Cienega just smiles as it waves goodbye
"Ah the night...here it comes again"
It's off with the jeans, the jacket and the shirt
How'd I end up feeling so bad
For such a little girl
And I hold you close in the back of my mind
Feels so good but damn it makes me hurt
And I'm too scared to know how I feel about you now
How I feel about you now
La Cienega just smiles and says, "I'll see you around"
Odds and Ends
Now boarding all premier mercury gold elite members.
Now boarding all premier silver members.
Now boarding all premier bronze members with eagle stats.
Now boarding group 1 silver super boarders.
Now boarding group 1 elite members.
Now boarding group 1.
And so on...
By 7:20 I'm sleeping in a seat made for a hunched 80 year old Chinese women. If I don't get a window seat I am so cranky it's not even cute. You can always tell the pro passengers. They have the neck pillow, easy reading magazine, and before the plane takes off they are fucking napping. And I swear if someone keeps that window open at 7 a.m. with that sun glaring in I will stare at them until smoke is coming from the side of their head.
Putty: Yeah....this is Putty.
Kramer: Hey you're a mechanic.
Putty: Yeah, that's right.
Kramer: Hey can you help me install a garbage disposal.
Putty: Well that's a pretty big job. You have to take off the latch hatch from the subline
Kramer: It says Main Line.
Putty: Yeah...That's a misprint.
On the Road Again
The weekend was pretty good - CHUCK DEPOSIT THE CHECK! lol - just a reminder - you gotta trust a girl to hand her a 3500 dollar check already signed. Anwyway - I was thinking, eh hem Michael, that we are going to go to Church on Sunday. It's Easter. We are heathens. We need some Lord back in our lives - that is after we play a couple sets of tennis - GO BUY YOUR RACKET!
Anyway - back in Detroit - it's my Dad's brithday - call him - hmm nah...
I'll be in Cleveland later in the week - awesome - nothing says GREAT road trip like going from Detroit to Cleveland.
Detroit to Cleveland Ba-By~!
Lists are My Best Friend
I was just cleaning out all my old emails and throwing all the personal ones away when I cruised back to September and found this:
Mirel made me do this list a while ago when I was talking about another girl -
"I love it when you do things despite how you feel because I ask you to do it:-)
Trust me...this list will help you.. But only if you get her to do the same."
10 Things I need:
10 Things I don't need:
Congrats In Order
For those who don't know - and that was me up until last night at about 6 p.m. - Hughs and Katie are officially engaged. She has a nice shiney ring on her finger and he has a big smile on his face. So when you see them out - bust his balls.
I try not to drink, cause if I sit and think Ill go crazy. Desperate aint lonely though Ive been high. Pockets are empty. In the daytime i'm lonesome in the nightime i'm sad. The letter I wrote, took words from my throat I was saying, "Lay on the roadside". I guess the mailman was drunk. The message was urgent. How lazy a state where you dont live?
Post Patty's Day Conversations
I am talking to a client via instant messenger:
Bret Holmes says:
Bret Holmes says:
how the good times rollin?
Bret Holmes says:
i just sent you an email - asking to put a file on the server
Bret Holmes says:
When do you think you guys will be done with the dll's and XML scripts
Bret Holmes says:
I don't know. I'm still pretty hung over.
St. Patty's Day
Bret Holmes says:
Did you go out?
Bret Holmes says:
You are still young. You can do those things
Bret Holmes says:
Oh yeah.... I'm still semi-drunk.
Bret Holmes says:
Yeah...I probably shouldn't have typed that. Oh well - enjoy your weekend. I'll be in Detroit on Monday so I'll see you then
Bret Holmes says:
I Can't Stay Away From You
Hahahaha - got you to read a little more wide eyed. Sucker! I mean St. Patty's Day momo. I'll be at O'shea's crushing Jamesons and eating awful food. The music will be loud. The cover will be a lot but I can't see me going any where else. If I went any where else I would just be sitting there wishing I was at O'shea's. I can't ever claim that bar as a haunt because well, I don't think I'm very well like there as much as I am tolerated due to mutual friends but - alas - it's the best Irish bar in town and I won't have any less.
What to do about St Patty's Day
And it's not just St. Patty's Day. What I decide to do tonight will be echoed throughout my other decisions in the near future. No one is going out. No one (and don't take offense because this is a highly male bonding night.) "I'm tired.", "It's Thursday", "I want to save money.", "I'm having dinner with family.". Well, that puts me at a cross roads. Do I go out and drink alone? Hmm. While I do like to drink alone I also find that when I do I think way too much about horrible shit and end up even sadder than I was before. So... can I take these awesome green suede shows and my bright green polo shirt and walk it home without a head glance at a bar? Can I resist the tingle of Jameson and O'sheas while loud music blares over the speakers? Can I do these things? More importantly do I want to? See...I don't believe in masochistic conviction to cleanse the soul. I am an instant gratification person and to deprive myself of anything would be like an assault on my soul. To honestly give up what I WANT TO DO in replacement for what I SHOULD DO is about as much me as John Wayne driving a Mini Cooper. But to be honest - I don't know if going out is what I want to do. I guess I'll figure it out as the day comes further circle but right now I'm sitting at 70% no and 30% yes. And this decision will echo for a while because if I can give up this or not feel this than I am less likely to not feel tomorrow or Saturday or any other day that just involves going out to go out. But it isn't that sad. That feeling of numb is so sad and pathetic when you have life in your body. Oh I don't want that. Back to 60% - 40%
Conversation From New York
Me: She wrote me an email the other day. And last month or around early January I had that weird break down because she said she was getting married. And then she stood me up for dinner that one time. Anyway, she wrote me an email the other day.
X: Oh yeah? What did it say?
Me: "Where are you?"...yeah I know right. I mean what is that?
X: She seems awful every time you describe her actions.
Me: So true. But, you just can't shake it.
X: Dude, fuck that. For all you say, what do you ever do?
Me:If someone was going to give me a list of "bests" she tops out on every single one. I don't even think that's true any more. I think I made her into a myth because honestly when I look back I don't remember just unstoppable laughing or whatever. I can take pieces of other girls and def. say that as I have grown I have met people that have made me laugh more and turned me on more. I really don't the person I have in my head ever existed. I just sort of remember being motivated to not be anything but exceptional. I just remember being great at life. But, the weird thing is, I was 18-22. Who the hell isn't great at those ages?
X:So... did you write her back?
Me:Yeah that's the weird part. I always write her back. And I don't write shit like how much I love her or how much I want to be with her. I write things like, "Are you ok?", "Is anything wrong?". I don't write those other things because I don't feel them. At least I don't feel they would be reciprocated.
X: Yeah.. then what does she write back?
Me:She usually writes, "I'm fine. How are you?" or "I'm gettied married." or "Where are you?" One line - real short - sometimes drama about her having to choose a husband or take care of her mom or something.
X:Whoa man....that's fuckin lame.
Me:Nah...that's just her. You wouldn't blame a pigeon for shitting on the sidewalk. You just sort of say, "That's what pigeons do."
Me:I don't guess about that. I know. I think that's the most attractive part of her memory is that I can honestly say, maybe one of the only honest things in my life, is that I can say without hesitation, "I know..." every time in every way when it comes to anything about her.
X:You're a fucking moron.
Me:I don't think so. I would drop my whole life if something I believed in would just be willing to do the same. I would drop it all and never look back. The good people would still be around but all the shit would just be gone.
X:Like what shit?
Korean Food is Love
Last night I took Johnny (in Erin's car - what a brave girl) up to Hanha Reum ( = "Number 1 Place" - for my korean inept follk) in Catonsville. It's an Asian food mart and it's awesome. First off, and John can vouche for this, there are so many hot Korean girls around there that just oogle over young white men able to say "excuse me" and "thank you" in Korean while I decide which red pepper paste I want.
"Oh, you know Korean?"
"You bet baby."
"Old girlfriend when I lived in Korea."
They instantly melt. And since John is a hot man...they give us an extra time of day just for the shit of it. Actually last night a cute little thing helped me find my one mission "Mul Man Du" (water dumplings) now that's not as smiple as it seems. Most dumplings are big and shaped like the eyes of Liz Taylor but these are small little pearl beeds. They are great when you get a big bowl of soy sauce but some cinnamon in and sit back and watch West Wing (my plans for this evening). Anyway we got that and the following delicacies:
This is some of the stuff I bought - I'm so excited to cook this stuff for a week or so.
!Warning sloppy awful pictures ahead!
Spicey ramen. Koreans equivalate this to our consumption of potato chips or pretzels.
Normal pork dumplings. Ehh...they are ok
Milkis! Carbonated milk drinks..mm mm mm!
Wrap your meat in mint leaves and feel healthy.
Put this on the meat before you put it into the mint leaves.
The little ones at the bottom that are open are Mul Man Du (water dumplings)
Meat to put the sauce on.
So Erin and Vickie didn't eat any. Mike slobbed through his and Johnnie and I almost had the semblence of a normal evening. It was close. But I think tonight when I go home I will make some Ramen, Mul Man Du with Cinnamon Soy Suace, and Kelbi. I will watch West Wing and update JVMM it will feel much more like Korea...lol...
~~I love ya I swear I do... but I heard this song by Weezer on Launch today and I was like - that's you.~~~
Leave me alone,
I won't pick up the phone,
And I won't listen to messages
Sent by someone who calls up and says
I don't like how you're living my life
Get yourself a wife.
Get yourself a job
You're living a dream,
Don't you be a slob.
Leave me again
Don't hang out in my den,
Waiting for little clues to appear
That I drank some of grand-daddy's beer
Moves Like Seamus
St Patty's Day Recaps
I'm not much for Xmas or New Years. I spend birthday's alone out of principle and Thanksgiving was a sham since I was 9 and I told my parents, "I hate poor people like us." Easter is, well absurd to me I guess, except if I go to church because I'm all for pageantry. Let's see there's also 4th of July....pthhhihiwwwllllw. And Labor day and Memorial day and Arbor day are holiday's as well. All of these above mentioned days don't mean a fucking thing to me. It's nice to get presents. It's nice, I guess, to see family, but the true love Holiday for me has always been St. Patty's Day.
Unfortunately, since Patty's day falls on the 17th of March (sometimes a weekday) every year and most companies and schools or municipal institutions don't regard it as a "National" holiday deeming it worthy of a day off, it becomes difficult to celebrate it properly. And by "properly" I of course mean ordering drinks like you are trying to hail a cab for a Cantonese family of 40 during rush hour in Manhattan while hugging and kissing your friends. Here are my memories of St. Patty's Days past.
1987 - My family every year went to Bowman's in Perry Hall for their yearly Corned Beef and Cabbage extravaganza. Of course being the brat that I was I would never eat. Well they don't serve anything on Patty's Day except for that, but tell an 8 year old that he doesn't have to eat if he's going to be "that way" and watch him not care and put his foot down as if he was Napolean talking about whether or not to leave Russia. "Give me quarters." My parents finished dinner and we went home. I set a high score on Pac Man. The next day I was supposed to have my tonsils taken out. You can't eat before the operation. I was so hungry when I woke up and when I went to the doctor's office that I managed to not tell anyone that I at 2 brownies and a glass of milk less than 3 hours before my operation. Apparently I almost died during the operation from vomiting in my mouth. I spent a week in the hospital vomiting and curling in a ball of pain. So much for ice cream and popcicles.
1999 - Still legally unable to drink I take Mirel out for our first ever real drinking excursion. At a local house party there are gathered Rosedalians whom I have since become disenchanted with, and a duo of years past named Dean and Davis. There are hot tubs. There are beers and shots. The true meaning of St. Patty's day has yet to really fit in but we are together on a Saturday for some reason and that's a good start. The night moves in circles. I have some sex in the hot tub, in the pool, people watch from a near by bush. Deana and Eric (two friends) join the water exhibition and enlighten me to using silicon in the pool. Mirel gets way to dizzy and I take her home. I return. Booze more. Hug more. Kiss more people on the head. Return home. Mirel in her only ever moment of pure ridiculous behavior is laying in bed passed out and covered in vomit. I pick her up. Throw her over my shoulder and bath her for 2 hours while she attempts to slap my hands away because she's embarrassed and crying. We never really drank together again. We never needed to.
2001 - After a breakup with my girlfriend I find myself hanging out with people who take lots of drugs, drive really expensive cars, hang out with really hot women, and love to fight. My alter ego is born somewhere and yet I'm still forced to baby sit them through a night of car bombs and eXstacy. Yes, they popped pills. No, I didn't. Not my scene, never was. But, the girls that come along with these things are usually...shall we say...of the lower moral persuasion and willing to hang out and suck dick if you dunk their Oreo in a glass of milk for them. We start at my local haunt back then Bayou Blues. A White Marsh fiasco waiting to happen. Red necks watching Nascar turns into Disco night and video games. From there it's down to DeGroen's Brewery (Charm City Brewery and now extinct). At 12 my friend, umm... X decided to drop all the remaining xtacy because he is drunk. It was about 6 pills. I flip. I'm trying to make him vomit. No dice.
I take him to my office on Fleet street where we have a couch and soda and techno music (hey anything to get him from swallowing his tongue). We go there and he proceeds to get angry and pee on the carpet. It was truly a lovely move. I take him across the street to a bar called 1212 and we proceed to get cut off because X won't stop yammering. By this point the rest of the black leather jacket patrol has tracked us down, armed themselves for some insane reason, and insist on going to 1722 for more drugs and strippers. There are strippers and whores in tow and I'm no angel. It's not as though I was standing there holding him up hoping he didn't die and pleading for none of this to happen. I was wearing 800 dollar shoes and a black button down shirt and I was chewing gum. I wanted to, at some point, get laid, and get laid well. In the car ride over with some girl whose name ended in an '..ambi' on my lap I had an epiphany. This is not St. Patty's day. This is awful. I hate you people. Yes, this piece of ass here on my lap is pretty hot, and yes I have to admit that I feel cool being in a black Navigator with armed men, but this, this is not me. This is not me in any way. We get to ghetto land on Charles st. andI hop out of the car, insist I have to piss, and make my way over to the Charles Theatre for an all night showing of Raging Bull (why? I had and still have no idea why an all night showing of Raging Bull was taking place.) I hunched down in my seat. Reached in my pocket and found a little pill with some graphic on it. X must have slipped it in there hoping I would eventually succumb to genetic displacement and hope to give my babies tales or gills one day. I put my feet up on the seat in front of me. Looked at the only other two people in the theatre sitting one row back and three seats to the right of me and took out my pack of cigarettes, gave the universal motion for "Is this ok?" lit one and tossed the pill at the screen and wished them 'Happy St. Patty's Day".
2002 - The Villa Julie Baseball team and I are just starting to get to know each other. It's my senior year and up to this point I guess we never really hung out. We sort of did, but the school is mired with complete tools and aside from my 4 kids that were good friends I never really wanted to tango with the rest of them. This year was different. Having been captain for 3 years and being semi-rich I felt it my duty to take all of the little fuckers out and get them so slam blasted that they may never want to see day light again.
"But Bret, isn't March 17th in the middle of baseball season?"
"That it is my little lamb shank. But we were taking a 2 day road trip to Florida so there was time for them to brush it off."
We started off at High tops because I was banging this Columbian girl from Loyola College and she wanted to tag along and said she would bring friends. I headed out with only the legal aged kids. About 10 of us and we boozed like I hadn't boozed in years. We had guys named Boogs, Jameson, Z, and Bung with us. We drank and drank and drank and then we went to O'sheas where Donnegal Express was playing. The whole crew was a good troop. Boogs didn't want to leave and was so committed that he decided to throw up in a cup by the bar rather than to disappoint our efforts. Jameson and I danced to the Oasis covers. We played darts and somehow smuggled a bottle of Bailey's form behind the bar and poured into the mouths of girls strewn across the tables in the back. The night ended at 4 a.m. with a 3 mile walk to any place with cigarettes. We arrived at the bus for Florida at 9 a.m. piss drunk in the same clothes and Boogs still had his coffee cup of puke (jokes...but that sounded like a good way to end it)
2003 + 2004 later ... this got really long...
Proust Questionaire ( whatever that is)
What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Finding yourself without the means to attempt a chance at life
Where would you like to live?
Anywhere they speak English and fry food
What is your idea of earthly happiness?
Being with someone I loved and living my life in their image of me
To what faults do you feel most indulgent?
Who are your favorite heroes of fiction?
Harrison Bergeron, Max Demian, Winston Smith, Harry Haller
Who are your favorite characters in history?
Locke, Swift, Pope, Stalin, Alexander, Thatcher, Lincoln, Douglas, Bosley, Samuel Johnson, Escobar, Huxley, Orwell, Jagger, Lennon, Richards, Havens, Redding, Pollock, Brando
Who are your favorite heroines in real life?
Mom, Aunt Aggie, Plath, Rand, Stein,
Who are your favorite heroines of fiction?
Belinda (ROTL), Catherine Barkley, Ma Joad, Mrs. Morel
Your favorite painter?
Monet, Pollock, Boucher
Your favorite musician?
The quality you most admire in a man?
Simplicity, Openness, Industry
The quality you most admire in a woman?
Reliability, Majesty, Kindness, Curious, Devotion
Your favorite virtue?
Your favorite occupation?
Who would you have liked to be?
J Thomas Scharf
and some additions...
Your most marked characteristic?
What do you most value in your friends?
Courage, lust for life, honor
What is your principle defect?
Live outside of means
What to your mind would be the greatest of misfortunes?
Debilitation resulting in the inability to pursue life fully
In what country would you like to live?
Any place where they speak English and have one warm season.
What is your favorite color?
What is your favorite flower?
I haven't ever once thought about that
What is your favorite bird?
See flower - I always kind of liked finches though
Who are your heroes in real life?
People who do what they say
What are your favorite names?
What is it you most dislike?
Phoniness, weakness, boredom
What natural gift would you most like to possess?
Charisma that doesn't shows the seems or A 10 inch penis
How would you like to die?
What is your present state of mind?
What is your motto?
Content equals death
Ryan Adams MP3 Show
This is from back in 2002 when we was still toutin "Heartbreaker" which is definitely in my top 10 albums of all time list. It has some really great songs. The mp3 are free and I think you will love to listen to him live if you never have before.
Ryan Adams - 2002 - Paramount Theatre - Denver Enjoy!
Personal Favorites On There:
Oh My Sweet Carolina
To Be Young
When The Stars Go Blue
La Cienega Just Smiled
...and the cult classis Come Pick Me Up
You can download these individually and if you don't know Ryan but trust my musical taste - then I recommend those.
The Evolution of the Mark Hopkins Band Through My Eyes
I guess I was 22 when I first started going to 'Jam Band' based music. Actually, wait...I was 21 in the back of Mike's house at Jenkfest 2 (the Fest strikes back) and I remember saying, "Hey, you guys need any help with that stuff?" pointing to amps and guitars. I said this to a band, at the time named "Tribe of Ben". I watched them play outside of Mike's house as if it were an audition in front of Mike and his closest 100 friends. It was a good time had by all but I knew that if I wanted to be closer to these friends gathered outside of Mike's house and whom I had known for most of my life that watching this band was a nice in road to take.
You see I never left my girl friend's side. Not for a second. If I went out, I went out with her. If I wanted to go somewhere, I went with her. People would pop in from time to time but for the most part it was just her and I. She was at this party at Mike's when I met Tribe of Ben for the first time, and I knew somewhere, at the point when she said, "Your friends are all losers." that our relationship would end very soon. She may have been right. She may have been wrong but more important was that what she said felt very wrong and very assuming. Despite my ego, this was my ilk. Despite my father's idea that I was somehow smarter than everyone else, this was where I grew up and I had yet to find anyone that I could dominate without being 50% judgmental. No one flocked to me. No one swarmed around my legs to ask me questions. Her statement seemed possessive, mean, and largely incorrect.
Her and I left each other not so long after that. And I was rather alone except for my friend Mike Oliver, some VJC kids, Craig, and Tim and Doug whom I had yet to meet but soon came along. I was working a job I didn't like at bionicbox.com with a bunch of snobby young programmers who were a lot smarter than I was. I had never really gone out and had a drink with anyone. I had never been on a date with another person in my life. I hadn't even looked at another woman in over 3 years. I was alone but I was strong. I had money. I had independence and a full head of hair and a closet full of kick ass clothes. I started sleeping with as many women as possible to fill a void. That didn't work to fill any void. And then I folded back in to my childhood friends.
It started one night at a dive bar in Bel Air or Edgewood or something. It was a holiday because everyone was home. It was either Thanksgiving or Xmas. Blake Miller and his girlfriend Lauren, whom I found absolutely enthralling, had introduced me to some of their college friends at Towson and I started seeing a couple of them. Well when everyone was in town (Nick, Watts, Shane, Chris, Dean, Mike) we decided to go up north to see the band that Watts and Nick and Mike had been seeing for years. I saw them but was more interested in the girls. But somewhere in there I saw how all my friends danced together and I got a couple glimpses of the talent of Mark Hopkins.
Months later, I was asked to attend a concert at Merriweather. It was Moe. and Widespread Panic, a damn good show in retrospect but it was just me wanting to hang out with my friends that made me want to go. Watts was there and we had yet to become good friends. Mike, Nick, Snake, and the Tribe of Ben guys were there. Watts was chummy with Mark, and since I was just starting my music research life, Mark and I talked a little. Watts informed me of a show the next day down at St.Mary's College that he was attending and so was everyone else. I couldn't pass up at this point. I had found a pack to run with. I was galloping a little with other horses again.
Months rolled by and I had been to numerous more shows and met the band at local watering holes and somehow started doing their website. Everyone would always come down for the shows. Watts would sometimes work the lights at the Recher Theatre or the old 8x10 and I would get shout outs from the band or work the merch table. We would bring friends to come see them and as my face time grew I met more people that would become familiar faces along the way. I became social again. I wasn't dating. I wasn't doing drugs. I still wasn't drinking but I was having fun.
I owe that transitional period to a lot of people who cared enough to include me back in their lives and in a way I owe that to Mark Hopkins as well. I know that sounds strange to say, but in retrospect watching him play guitar, turning to one of my friends nodding and mouthing the words, "Nasty" was all he needed to do to be apart of that short evolution.
Mark has a new band now and a new website. I think you'll find that he and his band are very talented and put on a fun and open show that all kinds of people can enjoy. I hope maybe some of you younger people out there have a band or an artist that does the same for you and your friends one day. I hope you get to enjoy something like that the way I have enjoyed watching Mark play. I think you'll find it will put a smile on your face.
Mikey "Jesus" Moves to Florida Joins Pro Boxing Tour
RUSSdaluvMUS: OMG I want this Tony Montana house. 10M though. Worth it?
bretbliam: Get the fuck out of here. It isn't even real it would be like buying the bat cave or wanting to live in that apartment in Devil's Advocate.
RUSSdaluvMUS: i have pet cats that i claimed after scum bag friends didn't want them any more. 1 male cat with white on his nose, and beats up dogs named tony. and 1 female black cate named gina. his sister
bretbliam: why would you care about cats?
RUSSdaluvMUS: i have 2 of them
RUSSdaluvMUS: in my moms house for right now
RUSSdaluvMUS: cats arent gay
bretbliam: id let them play in traffic
bretbliam: i dont know dude
RUSSdaluvMUS: my cat kicks dogs asses
bretbliam: you used the term "omg" a second ago
RUSSdaluvMUS: its a bad ass
RUSSdaluvMUS: b/c it's TONY MONTANA'S HOUSE
bretbliam: he isnt real
bretbliam: he never really lived there
RUSSdaluvMUS: instead of writing HFS holyfuckingshit, i thougth that omg would be suffice
bretbliam: im sure some lawyer named barry goldstein lived there
RUSSdaluvMUS: so.. it's the story i dig
bretbliam: yeah but man....
RUSSdaluvMUS: you wouldn't live in the bat cave?
bretbliam: no dude
bretbliam: because it doesnt exist
bretbliam: and neither does Tony Montana
bretbliam: that would be so damn gay
bretbliam: with your two cats
RUSSdaluvMUS: lick my dick on my cats
bretbliam: brother and sister cats none the less
bretbliam: im surprised they arent called socks and mittens
bretbliam: "here socks..."
RUSSdaluvMUS: chicks see cats and get wet, see two cats and they're drenched
bretbliam: "aww where is mittens.."
bretbliam: oh come on
bretbliam: not many girls i know love cats
bretbliam: and the one's that do love them love them way toooooo much
bretbliam: i would so snap a cats neck just to hear the sound
RUSSdaluvMUS: i understand, you and cats have the same head shape, but the cat has hair
bretbliam: so offsides
RUSSdaluvMUS: my bad
bretbliam: but touche' chub nut
bretbliam: "Mikey we are gonna play catch like big boys"
bretbliam: you son of a bitch you
RUSSdaluvMUS: fetch not catch
RUSSdaluvMUS: glenn's getting back into boxing, this time i'm going to train with him. get this chubby but sexy body down to a ripped 5'8.5 160
RUSSdaluvMUS: cant be chubby in fla
bretbliam: does that say 5'8.5?
bretbliam: thats fucking redic!
RUSSdaluvMUS: im really 59
RUSSdaluvMUS: 510 right pair of shoes
bretbliam: but dude...did you really write '.5'
bretbliam: to me?
bretbliam: you are still a trip
bretbliam: you in town?
RUSSdaluvMUS: i was annoucing me
RUSSdaluvMUS: missed the n
RUSSdaluvMUS: im in fla.
RUSSdaluvMUS: not in town
bretbliam: and in this corner at 5'8.5 - with a record of 1-9
bretbliam: the undisputed
bretbliam: cat loving, dumb house buying, champion of the world
bretbliam: Mike "bulldog fetch" Williams
RUSSdaluvMUS: glenn's going to change his name from Irish Glenn Williams to Glenn Vicious Willliams, and I'm Mike Dilicious Williams. the VD Williams bros
bretbliam: Learn to spell that first
RUSSdaluvMUS: Fuck off!
bretbliam: You are lucky you killed a man once... else i'd fucking wreck you
RUSSdaluvMUS: the VD Williams bros
bretbliam: oh does that fit...
bretbliam: Man your name should so be Mike 'I fucking killed a guy' Williams 'No for real'--- lol
bretbliam: so well
Casualties of Smiles and Violent Ham Steaks
I lost one of my best friends this weekend. I lost him and I don't know if he can be brought back. I took him to 3 places and they all said, "No. It cannot be fixed." Yana currently has them and has said that she will fix them somehow... I don't need them to be pretty. I just need them not to have a 1 foot gash in the crotch. New Orleans put my jeans out of comission. New Orleans killed my weekend outer wear. But I tell you what...I looked pretty good in a pair of Brooks Brother's mole skin khaki's and a cashmere sweater on Saturday. I felt rather lonely though...with out my friend...old Levi.
If you like Whiskey Town, Ryan Adams when he isn't being lame, Billy Brag, That song from the Garden State Soundtrack (I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You - Colin Hay) - basically if you like gruffy country alt tunes that make you want to kiss the one you love on the forehead and grab her hips and sway them back and forth before the clock hits 7:30 and you have to eat and watch TV then you will love this.
Crooked Fingers streaming link.
Unfortunately you have to listen to it in stream mode - I recommend fast forwarding to "Twilight Creep" as the first tune. You'll thank me...and subsequently I will thank Doug.
The new album has a name, "X&Y". But now you can hear the new songs...
Live Coldplay Show
Eat it up - oh and if you aren't a member of this site I highly suggest signing up and enjoying all the free live shows of every band you can think of.
Oh and why is their name Coldplay? I never thought about that.
Damnit!...and you will know us by the trail of shows
I hate the Ottobar! I swear they book good shows on Sunday and shit on Thursday - Saturday. If you look at their coming up shows you'll see. Plus I am super fucking steamed that I missed Two if By Sea yesterday and I missed "Action Action" and "Elkland" both bands that are going to be great Indie stories within a year. "Action Action" has the greatest album name of the last 3 years - "Don't cut your fabric to this years fashion" - man I wish I would have come up with that one.
Anyway local Baltimore awwrrrrea Hi-lites coming up for your enjoyment -
March 26th - Interpol w/ Blonde Redhead - I know it's sold out but tickets are available on ebay for 50 bucks. I'm not going. You should. Interpol is so fucking intense.
April 8th - The Fiery Furnaces - Funny how they went from 50 people at the Ottobar to the 9:30 club with no opener on a Friday. I don't know if that's good or bad. But, seeing "Chris Michaels" performed live is worth the drive and 15 bucks.
May 2nd - Erasure w/ Elkland - Told you Elkland was kick ass. Again sold out but totally possible to get tix...especially at the door from scalper - for face I bet.
Sonar - I'm sorry. Did you say "Sonar"?
March 24th - Interpol w/ Blonde Redhead - I sure did say "Sonar" and this is why I'm not going to the 9:30 club. Big Mike works Sonar and I can def. get in to see this. It's about time a real band played Baltimore. This is going to be great!
March 26th - The Oranges Band, Hold steady, Hockey Island and Dactyl - I'm curious to see "The Oranges Band" as they been around for a while and I haven't gone to check them out yet.
April 11th - AESOP ROCK feat. Mr. Lif w/ DJ Big Wiz and SA Smash - I'm not a big hip hop guy but I think I have moved to a level now where I can appreciate it. Plus I do like Mr. Lif and understand that Aesop Rock is a pioneer or something.
April 24th - Animal Collective, Ariel Pink and Madagascar - Animal Collective was here back in November and I missed them. Not this time baby.
May 8th - Deerhoof, Why? One Long Lash and Nedelle - Deerhoof is back again and I will be back again to watch my little girl tear it up while holding stuffed animals and never blinking.
May 29 - The Raveonettes, Autolux and The Peels - Absolute no miss for anyone who loved that Genre back in 2001. No MISS!
March 24th - Crooked Finger - There you go Doug. I'll be in Cleveland though. Sorry man...
April 7th - ...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead - Preached it once. No one paid attention. I'm preaching again. Fuck you!
April 15th - m83 - Getting a lot of press. If you like the album and odds are if you own it then you fucking love it you should go see this show. We all know how fast Indie bands burn out so see them while you can.
side note - the Black Cat and the Ottobar are on the same sort of circuit. Why do they get more awesome fucking shows? That sucks. I wish Baltimore was more hip and it wasn't just the people that work at Sound Garden and attend MICA that went and saw these shows. Everybody else can't get out of their own fucking way enough to appreciate new music. They'll live and die with "Heartbreaker", "Is this it?", "Yankee Foxtrot Hotel", and "Kid A"...evolve Baltimore...please evolve
Oh and double fucking bonus - the new Iron and Wine is fucking fantastic and totally different and much edgier than the "Our...Days"
Work Lingo that Makes Me Cringe
"I am not so lost in lexicography as to forget that words are the daughters of earth, and that things are the sons of heaven." -- Samuel Johnson
Word >>> Implied Meaning >>> Bret Meaning
1. Action Item >>> A traceable task that can be tracked directly to ROI and has a proven/set time limit >>> I mean what the fuck? Why not just say, "Do this" or "This is your next task." Nooooo...it has to be an "action item" because that sounds important. Well you can action MY item if you say that again.
2. Hot Site >>> A customer application that is faltering or has no apparent fix. This site is in a production status and is currently being used and currently breaking. >>> THE SKY IS FALLING! WE'RE FUCKED! OH GOD! This is not the assignment any consultant wants to get. This means someone fucked up and you have to swoop in and eat shit and tell jokes about how bad your product is for a week. Always fun to take it in the ass.
3. Coaching >>> An advisor that supports a team effort via his experience and knowledge >>> A way to make a living whereby you don't have to know anything about anything as long as you can rephrase what the client has said into a question.
4. Perform quick review/assessment >>> The issues were studied quickly in hopes of bringing more information into the fold for a wider breadth of people. >>> We took a longer lunch than expected and had to lie to you about what we did for 4 hours today. This sounds like a good way to kill half of a day.
5. currently has a requirement for separate/distinct approval processes for different business units >>> In this specific company business logic is tied closely to security so that work flow can be tracked and restricted. >>> WE DONT KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON SO WE MADE THIS SHIT UP! We thought we were just, you know, going to work. But now we are marred in business units. Business units...that sounds hilarious.
6. Team >>> A group of people working together to solve problems and achieve goals. >>> A bunch of saps who work weekends to keep someone else on a fucking golf course. Team! Hah! That's hilarious.
7. data repository >>> A bank of information that allows people to more quickly solve issues and answer their own questions. >>> A fucking message board. Data repository my ass. Who comes up with this shit? From now on I'm going to call my shoes "car liberators". Fucking nonsense.
I love when I come to work after being on the road for a week. It's as though I really only come in to show my face, have a Mountain Dew, and blog. I'm sure that is much what your job is as well. But... I started reading Whitney's and Farah's site about a week ago - can I get some Males by the way - and they both have these maps of where they have been. I don't know...I'm bored.
create your own personalized map of the USA
The Pacific Northwest needs some of my attention.
create your own visited country map
The World map is just gay.
Oh sweet bracket time. I'm so glad Maryland isn't in the dance. My taste for sports is waning so much. I get extremely exacerbated when people talk about sports. I could honestly care less. And you know what? I was a sports person. I get semi-excited for the first week of football and Oriole games but for the most part, man I hate when people get all pumped over sports. It's the church of the poor. It's consumerism at it's worst. Nothing has exponentiated itself into the main stream as having weighted importance as much as meaningless fucking sports have over the last 20 years, maybe radical Islamic teachings.
Sport is the largest outlet to distract young men from their shitty lives. It's horrible hyped entertainment with no bearing, NO BEARING, on your existence. You can't sit through Bolshevik for 2 hours or can't enjoy Deerhoof play at the Ottobar (if nothing more than esthetics), the National Museum of Art is a huge inconvenience to attempt, but if fucking Ohio State/Michigan is on, man, watch the fuck out. Get out of my way and give me a bag of Cheetos, a 3000 thousand dollar TV, and a fucking lobotomy because I'm going to yell at the fucking screen because some guy missed a lay up. I'm going to know every player on every team and I'm going to pride myself in that fact. They will never know I exist but I will worship Tyrone McDunker like he was Einstein or Shakespeare. Welcome to lower middle class hell.
You know what is smart though and if you think about it? There isn't any lapse in entertainment when it comes to sports. I mean one thing roles right into the next. You hardly miss a weekend of something "huge". Let me see if I can trace it
Starting at Jan 1 (I'm sure this has some error - but you get the point)
Bowl Games > Football Playoffs > Super Bowl > Daytona 500 > NBA All Star Game > Spring Traning Opens > March Madness > Baseball Season Starts > French Open > Hockey Playoffs > Basketball Playoffs > The Masters > Wimbledon > All Star Game > British Open >Training Camp > US Open > US Open Tennis > College Football Season Starts > Football Season Starts > Baseball Playoffs > World Series > Basketball Season Starts > Hockey Season Starts > College Basketball Starts > ...
Bahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Fucking sheep -
I know this portion of the post sounds hugely homosexual and anti-male. But you know what I've noticed? People who were actually good at sports or have a genuine dominant male personality and not just a fake one and competed at a decently high level do not get excited or emotional about sports. It's always tools who get real pumped and paint their face or NEVER EVER MISS A RAVENS GAME. It's the guys that never really competed that watch Sports Center every morning so they can feel more male. They make up for their lack of dominant traits with a strange desire to seem more normal. When I look at a guy who talks about sports (except Johnny) I feel extreme pity for him. My friends who played college ball and pro ball don't sit around a TV and yell shit. I mean I'm glad you played high school lacrosse and JV basketball, but don't buy everything they are selling. Alonzo Mourning or Chris McAllister are no reasons to throw a drink or cry.
So with exuberant enthusiasm I bring you the bracket. Another link in the long chain of getting your passive brain food feed to you and you enjoying every second of it. All we need now are more dick pills, Zanax, Fen Fen, Soma, Heroin...And I can't wait for the first guy in my office to plop this on my desk and assume that I am going to fill it out. Obviously...I will.
The old VJC girls softball team. Ahh...the days of making impressionable girls do things they never thought they would do. Open your mind and I will set you free...lol... I need to get back to some filth every once in a while, else I will get bored again.
It's a new bouncing baby lawyer.
Oh and congrats to Matt Cartier (nickname - he's important now...I don't want him associated here...lol) for attaining a job in law. Getting the degree is nice. Passing the bar is good. Getting a kick ass job where you can support your smoked our group of friends is the start of legendary status. Way to go Matty!
Wilco Bonus Tracks
If you own a Ghost is Born then you can now download a limited time only EP available from the website. Simply put the cd in your computer and find the intro.mov file. More details here.If you dont own the album then you need to get out more and buy some cd's for God's sake.
I Only Wanted to Sing
It's a womb of air wrapped in clinking glasses and cheap cologne. It's starched collared shirts combined with people looking absurd. Hugs that bounce off the bar top and hop into your pocket. Head rubs every time you go to the bathroom. Blurred eyes that just want to not think. Sing at the top of your lungs. Twirl a whore around on her axis. Shake hands with the regular. Shake hands with God. Shake hands with yourself as you sit. Try to ignore the screeching laugh. Don't attempt to make the correlation. Ignore the guilt if you can. Sip and bite your lower lip as you miss someone. Shrug and tell a joke or give some rye advice. Deliver it on a platter of cock and pussy. Deliver it like you've played that game before. Act like you've been there and won. You have no idea what they will think. You have no idea how they will see you when you are here. You are lost. You are found. You are only found because you know you are lost.
Issues Averted World Restored
Whew - that was a close one. I had Fest preceed me by 10 minutes. I had John and Swizzle at Mad Beaver looking around. I had said 'No Mas' when Farah picked me up from the airport. I had said 'NO MAS'. But alas, this is my town. And these are my days. So there wasn't much keeping me from my bar on a Friday.
I walked into our local bar with an apology, a bowed head, and a desire to buy a lot of people a lot of drinks. I explained that I wouldn't fight again but couldn't really promise anything because, well, I really can't. I have a short little fuse and I kind of enjoy the idea of fighting half-a-fags. I'd be lying if I said my head wasn't on a little bit of a swivle. I'd be lying that if I said I wasn't looking for a fight for about 20 minutes. But then I started simply not caring. I hadn't really been able to not care for a while. But all of the sudden I just let go and it was good.
I remember looking up at the 20 people that were with me and saying, "Nice. Nice. Hey, Yana, Do me a favor and buy them all a drink". All was sort of right with the world but I swear all I wanted to do was sleep. But, the last time I looked I was on the phone at 5 A.M. this mornig and it's now 11:12. We have a party to go to in a little over 3 hours and there are still people sleeping down stairs. I may claim to not enjoy my life sometimes. But I swear, that wasn't evident last night. And I'll take the idea of smiles and stories over the idea of laundry and Monopoly night.
New Orleans is great! Girls that turn me on are awesome! Cool guys with lots of money are always fun to hang out with! But damnit...there's nothing like home with my friends. Nothing.
Now, it's about 55 degrees. I'm on my roofdeck. I'm enjoying a Gatorade and a bag of pecans (I totally threw away all the healthy parts) so nicely left as a present from Charles. I'm looking out over my city and I'm thinking, "It's time to make moves. It's getting time to up the game. Last night was a good start in some strange way but it wasn't enough. I want a whole lot more."
Bourbon Street on first night in town = naughty
Bourbon Street on second night in town = issues
Bourbon Street on third night in town = booze hound
Planning on "really" blowing it out on Thursday on Bourbon Street because apparently I ain't seen nothing yet (and I've seen a lot) = Just a damn good week
I swear if it wasn't for the whores, Bourbon Street would be amazing. And it's not like good looking whores. It's fat whores or old whores and they all have on too much make up and are dressed entirely too well.
Anyway - Navy guys are great to hang out with. They have as many stories as I have. We just trade back and forth for hours. The best moment of the night had to have been when I sang duet with a French Quarter "fake" prostitute to Elliott Smith's "Between the Bars" she cried and we hugged. It was a precious moment. Anyway...I'm off to do it all over again. Why not move here? It smells good. The weather is awesome. And I can go cougar hunting every damn day. I swear sometimes my job is awesome. It's like vacation this week.
The hottest line of the night by far:
"Oh I'm paying with my pussy. Charge that guy."
I fell off my fucking stool.
Yeah I'm angry. People talk about art I get angry. People discussing the separation of money and art and life and love and stories and youth and innocence and all the other bullshit which makes it even easier not to attest to any of your flaws really fucking burns my heart.
Hot bags of shit, phonies, fake drama queens and general wastes of flesh you all are. You writers. You artists. You so called players of the world's stage. You make and think and make and don't DO a fucking thing. You live to not live. You like to write about the world but you haven't lived a fucking minute of any existence worth your pretentious ideas and art. You live to capture what you never do. "I'll simply sit in judgment on things that I believe are pointless or wrong or beautiful."
How is that possible? Unless you can come in and join that burlesque, that bar fight, that 2 hour intense fucking session with candle wax in your hair, or that fucking swan dive off the building to a demise. Unless you can join those things then keep your fucking trap shut. You'll always be a fucking outsider. You'll always be full of shit. You'll never have stories to give away to make people laugh or think. You'll have your precious phony art. You'll have your smirk at the world. You'll have your forgotten wasted death too.
Music Update -
Moving Units - This is kind of good. It sounds a little like Hot Hot Heat and Progessive Brit Pop. It is oddly filtered and the tones are turned way down but it's totally in the Fran Ferdinand/Killers vein. Go nuts!
Gang Green - Umm violent metal rock that is getting a lot of weird pub from the usual culprits. I don't know why. I find it to be rather fucking awful. Boston music is never any good.
The Glass - Now this is pretty damn special and good. It's like the Unicorns and the Wrens. It's very subtle but it will sneak up on you and you will be singing by the third time you listen to any song. Trust me you will love this. I can't wait to see them live. 3hive has some mp3's.
Record Machine - Another band getting pub. I actually heard this album playing at Sound Garden. It sounds like Lou Reed and Iggy Pop got together and sold their songs and voices to the Strokes. It's pretty damn good but it sounds very dated.
AC Newman - I found these guys via some mp3blogs. It's pretty trendy and poppy. The lyrics sound like the moody blues and you feel super gay listening to it. But alas what would I be if not super gay about music. He looks like Opie.
My Teenage Stride- Well done! Well done! Except for The Glass this is the cream of the crop for this set. Absolutely worth a listen. mp3
I lasted almost 24 hours
Usually on the road I don't go out and booze or anything. I sometimes will if I am in NYC and have some friends around. But for the most part I keep to myself. But, apparently the bright lights of Bourbon Street were just a little too much to handle. That and the fact that I work with Navy guys this week - this made it all the more plausible that I was gonna go out. And man - did I go out. There were shots. There were some beads. There were some shots. There was some old black guy named Tito McGoo. It was intense.
Now my head hurts. Mow I have to go work in a glass cage all day. My tongue feels like it needs a shave and there is Taco Bell strewn across my floor and apparently I put a cigarette out on the wall. I'm so awesome...lord
Absolutely 100% positively done. Good luck. Don't come back. There won't be any more fights in a bar. There won't be any more looks. There won't be any more conversations. There will just be two people that don't know each other. Done. Good luck. I wish you nothing but the best.
By and By
No one around here is gonna ever fuck with us. Not in the literal, figurative, imaginative, not in any way. They'll let us sit in squalor if we want. Those days of people caring are gone. Those days of 'taken care of' evaporate. They'll let us rot if we let them.
I'm all over it though. I'm all over the case. I can make everyone satisfied in everything we do if we could just write wishes in the air and have them answered. I'll keep running around with my broken arms waving them as if they work. Waving them as if they mattered that no splint was on them. No one around here is gonna mess with us.
There is nothing more entertaining than watching apathy bite. Watch it take a chunk out of your competitor. It pushes you a little more. It makes you whirl your arms around harder in hopes to attract a buzzing noise that is viable to the other flocks.
Someone's always driving around here with something to swill talking about getting your face on a hundred dollar bill. Pick up the ticket that sticks to your money to be made. The gamble is the secret of the game. Sign up with evil. It's a game of chance in this world of real skill.
No one around here is gonna drag in a kill for us. Before the judge they aren't gonna make sure we have faces of dust. They'll just drag in the carcass, slap it on the counter, ask for a couple bits and go back to the place of subsisting. There's money to be made in them hills. There's life to be had. Nobody around here is gonna fool with us.
Don't start me trying now. Just let me sleep. Oh you will? That's kind of you. I'm all over it though. I can make carcasses appear as well and then I can plop them down on the hood of your car and make life wonderful. I can make anything appear simply by waving my finger in the air. Simply by wishing.
Don't start me wishing. Don't get my hopes near your face. Let me fall back down to me. Let me hold me and weep over you. Let me sit there alone where I should be. Let beat out the ground as if it will ever move because of my fists. Someone's always calling out at me trailing some new kill. Someone has a game of chance for me. Someone forgot to tell you that I was like the wind in the winter.
I didn't steal your keys. But I skinned up your knees. The stars are the dreams of actors in their masks.
Picking up my face shows that there was nothing there to save. I lost the gamble and that is the history of the trade. I lost the given. I lost the taken. I took the jester and shook him down from his tree. To be replaced by my echoes of mediocrity. I looked down and he was lying there. He was crying. He was looking for help. The crowd left with him. They left me killing in the tree. Birds were falling into the snow. I was laughing at myself. I was wishing it wasn't me.
Pandora Song List
Amazon Wish List
Revolutionary Wealth - Tofflers
Things Making Me Smile
Listening - [out of 5]
Benjy Ferree - 4.8
The Thermals 3.1
David Gray 3.8
Like the guy with the beard? YES - like the guy with the beers. What? Yep
Bands That I Check Schedules For
Badly Drawn Boy
Belle and Sebastian
The Black Keys
Drive By Truckers
Mark Hopkins Band
Iron and Wine
Mates of State
Two if By Sea
Places I Rock in the Flesh
The Knitting Factory
The Otto Bar
Places I Eat/Drink in the Flesh
Cross Street Market
No Way Jose
The Irish Pub
The Waterfront Hotel
My Greatest Hits (that's so lame)
The time I almost killed a child
July 4th in Korea
Excerpts from Demian
Why I screen phone calls
Bret's Death Metal Report
A conversation at a cocktail party
A conversation at breakfast
So you think you are a Baltimorian
A conversation about a girl singer
Observations from a bar
Observations of strippers
Why I love Oasis
I would go to war
"You Son of a Bitch" An Open Letter to Tom Friend
Dance to Your Ocean
When men become pussies
Jason Whitlock is a racist propaganda promoter
Pitchfork takes music snobbery to new level
The Cosmic Clash of the Red Sox and Cubs
The Hatred that is Runts Candy
Starting corporate line-up
Do you know me? List 1 / List 2 / List 3
The Night I Burned Philly Down
So You Want to be a Booze Hound
She Said it was Free
Funniest Corporate Story Ever
Striped Shirts and the Fucks that Wear Them
Pieces of Morning
Oasis Album Revew
The Art of Tipping
Starting Fires With Grass Stains
Bret's Federal Hill Food Review
Sexcapades and your Picture on the Internet
Stupid Secrets the Return
Stuff I Swing By From Time to Time
Indie Video Archive
Large Hearted Boy
Pitch Fork Media
Scenestars MP3 Blogs
Sound Garden Baltimore
Angry Little Girls
Junior Varsity Meat Market
Baltimore City Paper
The Baltimore Sun
Villa Julie College Baseball
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