I Kan't Spell
Youth Breeds Rock n' Roll
I listened to the idea of rock n' roll pouring out of a teenagers mouth as he lept to the stage with his cock come fuck me ass. He lept and screamed and all he could express was his sex and ours. All we wanted to do, both men and women was to have sex through him somehow. Whether it be via the other girls getting so electric watching them and us knowing that we know enough to enjoy it to. We hope standing next to her that she will fuck us like she wants to fuck him. We see the anger and the rage at being young and not able to succeed. Being made to struggle because the old can't lose, and face it, they are smarter for the fact that they are winning. So we band together, we magnets of fucking. We bond and join to the moving sensation that he brings. We suck in his anything hoping we can be that cool tonight when we lay on top of her, watch her close her eyes, and know that she is imaging the rock teen in her, singing through her body.
I listened to the idea of rock n' roll coming from the mouths of an early 20's thinking renegade wanting to bleet out the drugs that were running him to the ground. He's burning and coming down to crash into the ground like a dead chested bird. We wait for it to happen in place of us. It's the risks that make us want to jump and cry and yell at them. We all feel like we are falling with him. We see the death coming through the life. We dream of the drugs seeping off of him and being licked by young girls. We feel our rock n' roll come down with him. We want to experience the crash from the first row. "Maybe tonight he'll OD on stage." We look through blurry glassed orbs of nothing wanting to experience what we could understand but are too afraid to grasp. We take ourselves to the parking lot, throw up, draw straws to drive, remember when were innocent and drive home singing the songs that we never had.0
I listened to the idea of rock n' roll coming out of the acoustic guitar of a late 20's never-made-it. He's stabbing at his own arms with anything to keep him motivated. He's flopping around in his head like a fish wanting to breathe water but only finding air. He's finding stale piss laced smoke amongst the small crowds in dive joints lit by paper fire hanging next to 2 for 1 beer signs. His t-shirt stand is sadly flanked by a light show booth. Both are being run by a local friend. We stand and waddle back and forth hoping to have answers for our lost youth rock n' roll, our senseless wasteful early 20's rock n' roll and now are failed dreams washed ashore with the boy we used to watch when he was wild and who is now saldy sunken and standing next to us wearing his own tour t-shirt. We make it to the bar, sit down, order a "lite" beer to watch our figures and hope we can get fucked real hard like we did when we were 18 watchin his son play. When we were 24 watching the girls play. But now we're old and worried and thoughtful and Americans and car owners and music critics and shit upon shit fucking up the youth trying to simply fuck.
In Other News
I talked to my father last night. He's alive. He sounded somewhat healthy and better. It was a conversation that I really needed. I have had trouble sleeping lately wondering where he might be.
I'm listening to the Oasis at Glastonbury show. People keep saying it was horrible. Hmm...I think it's pretty damn awesome personally. It's wonderful to finally hear people singing along with a band again. Beautiful...just gorgeous....
I got it from here on something she calls RKID radio...cute...
I'm in Tampa for the week at PWC. It will be difficult to really post anything up here whilst I am here (especially) or at my hotel. If I figure it out...stay tuned...if not...I'll try and keep any poignant observations on tap for my return.
Cheers right! Gingerbollocks!
"Surely, right, they can have someone better than fucking ginger bloakies to come up here and throw us off the stage."...
"We'd like to thank Creation, come on the captain, come on. And all the people...sooooo many people...and we'll waaaaaalk their candied ass down through their shite life." (you gotta sing that bit)
If you love me and trust me you will read this article. It's one of the best things i've read this year. It's funny. It's poignant. It's actually everything we should all be screaming in the faces of other people until we are all just an angry mob of screamers marching towards important people's houses. Read it.
O-A-SIS! O-A-SIS! O-A-SIS
This is the best article explaining Oasis fans and their music that I have ever read -
IT'S ALIVE!! IT'S ALIVE!!
The Knowledge Blog has been resurrected and I'm so happy. It's like new life....ahh...
Cease and Desist
Although my postings take about 10 minutes at a time and I usually do them around lunch or my morning settling in...depsite what the time says...I think it's on Greenwich...anyway...posts during the day are finished.
Also starting tomorrow night...the Knowledge Blog is back online and fueled. I plan on focusing a lot more on the learning industry. At first tracking technology trends again and then starting to slowly apply acquired knowledge. We'll see what direction it goes...it's important that right now I become more familiar with the players in the market and what exactly they do rather than trying to change or analyze anything. It's always been my theory that true knowledge and skill development can only be obtained once a solid foundation of fundamentals and vocabulary has been established. There may also be more referrals to operational technical trends such as what systems and languages people are using for implementation.
I've been printing off a good number of white papers lately that we have access to and am getting a kick ass load of info from them. Unfortunately, I don't think I can give specifics or quote them but they can at least lead me to more public things that I can quote. So both blogs will only be reserved for evenings.
Conversation with Ms. Pyzik
I usually don't like talking on IM...actually I do but for some reason this conversation was the easeist ive had in weeks...In Weeks!
Lizpyz: did you know that the phrase "bling bling" died?
Lizpyz: my sister just told me
bretbliam: i used it often
Lizpyz: yeah there's an mtv commercial
Lizpyz: have you seen it
Lizpyz: all these people pointing to their bling bling and saying "bling bling"
Lizpyz: and then at the end it says R.I.P. 1997-2004 "BLING BLING"
Lizpyz: have you ever heard of Bloom
Lizpyz: they're pretty good
Lizpyz: i'll send you the link
Lizpyz: tell me what you think
bretbliam: somebody needs to tell him to stand closer to the mic
bretbliam: ships sink into the drink launch one thousand you think
bretbliam: good change for the chorus
bretbliam: decent chorus
bretbliam: shrieky voice
bretbliam: nice little pac man sound
bretbliam: eww second chorus
bretbliam: getting better
bretbliam: another good change
bretbliam: the electronica almost makes it
bretbliam: but the vocals are sad
bretbliam: sounds a little like Ima Robot
bretbliam: but they let that guy from Ima Robot shriek
bretbliam: sort of accentuating his horribleness
bretbliam: this feels like hes ashamed of his voice
bretbliam: good start though
bretbliam: decent pop song if it was 2001
bretbliam: cut out
bretbliam: "whos the girl with the roman candle"
bretbliam: too long
bretbliam: should have cut it before this stupid moaning at the end
bretbliam: should have ended 20 seconds ago
bretbliam: ok over
bretbliam: scale of 1-10
Lizpyz: I just ran upstairs so it tok me about 10 min to go back and read what you said
Lizpyz: thanks for the opinion
bretbliam: no problem
bretbliam: this book is great
Lizpyz: that kurt hermanne something or other
Lizpyz: i'm trying to get together questions for tomorrow I hate asking cheezy generic questions
Lizpyz: how's the tour going blah blah blah
Lizpyz: I need to spice it up
Lizpyz: anyhow what's the book about
bretbliam: id give you some of mine
bretbliam: but alas
bretbliam: im saving them
Lizpyz: saving your questions
bretbliam: oh yeah
bretbliam: you start it off being cute
bretbliam: you're a girl use it
bretbliam: ask a question like "Ok whos been naked the most?"
bretbliam: itll go from there
bretbliam: what in the cd player on the bus
Lizpyz: I've always liked that question
bretbliam: yeah its a good one
Lizpyz: or "what are you listening to now"
bretbliam: i love it when bands tell me what they are listening to
bretbliam: its how i find a lot of music actually
Lizpyz: this is their first major tour so I'll ask them things about that
bretbliam: "has anyone thrown up before the show yet?"
Lizpyz: I know I was checking out their website and I hjaven't heard of some of the stuff they listen to
bretbliam: "how many drinks is it taking to steady the ship"
Lizpyz: any rituals
bretbliam: have you been jamming at all with DC
Lizpyz: or the get up kids and head automatica
bretbliam: "doesnt playing outside totally suck"
bretbliam: I'm really pulling all my string to write the Oasis upcoming album review for Spin
bretbliam: and to do this thing for the City Paper
bretbliam: I want to start working more with music
Lizpyz: what turned you back to music
bretbliam: Throw something totally random out like
bretbliam: "What was it like playing with Stevie Nix?"
bretbliam: ive never left music
bretbliam: im just not that good of a writer
bretbliam: so its tough
bretbliam: plus I like money
Lizpyz: haha you actually haven't but i mean that's different
bretbliam: "What was it like playing with Debbie Harry on her comeback tour?"
bretbliam: you should totally ask that to break the ice
bretbliam: "Whos got the biggest cock?"
Lizpyz: bret haha!
bretbliam: "So what do you think of girls who drive Black Jettas"
Lizpyz: I don't think I can ask that my sister will be there
Lizpyz: yeah that's a good
Lizpyz: who sings that song again
bretbliam: "Whos your favorite ice skater?"
bretbliam: Ima Robot
bretbliam: it made me think of it
bretbliam: you should have that song
Lizpyz: i always love hearing west coasters talking about how much they hate the east coast
Lizpyz: i should ask him that
bretbliam: "So who REALLY killed Biggie?"
Lizpyz: i mean tell me how much do you hate the east coast
Lizpyz: yeah he would know that since he's on the west coast
Lizpyz: my sister said that's an awesome question
bretbliam: "So who are you boyzzz gonna whack ?"
Lizpyz: ewww did you see coca-cola just came out with a product called C2
bretbliam: and then throw up an East Side sign and walk out throwing your pencil in the air
Lizpyz: it's coke with 1/2 the carbs and 1/2 the calories
bretbliam: saw that one coming
bretbliam: suprised it didnt happen earlier
Lizpyz: that's so hot
Lizpyz: i'm doing it
bretbliam: thats all the girls at my work talk about
bretbliam: i acutally heard the phrase "eww carbs"
Lizpyz: what's the bother
Lizpyz: no you didn't!
Lizpyz: was it a genuine eeww carbs comment
bretbliam: oh yeah
I've made a concerted effort to avoid other dorks talking about this album. I didn't want to hear any of their reviews or any of their thoughts on what it should have been or is. I just wanted to listen to my most anticipated album next to the next Flaming Lips and Eels albums. And people...oh people...despite having listened to 3 or 4 songs in Doug's car, this is a nice fresh breeze across my face.
It's a good return to guitars and pianos and lyrics and upswings and downswings. It's just solid music. It's just really good. Enjoy it.
I mean for a guy that struggles with extreme stress disorders and depression and prescription drug problems, he did a great job of not craking under the pressure here. YHF was a classic and to have that kind of anticipation over your next work of art makes most bands choke pretty hardcore. I think Jeff just loves to play.
Upon walking across Pratt St. to Barnes and Noble I encounted Joe Torre, Joe Girardi, Bernie Williams and Mel Stottlemyer. How 'bout that shit? They were going into the lavish and wonderful tourist trap known as ESPN Zone. I guess they must have wanted some spotlight. They all look really weird out of their baseball uniforms, especially Torre.
Just thought I'd tell you...
Quick Observations for You
Oh it's been done to death. It has, it really has. What is "it" you ask? Well "it" is reading a book a week and listening to only one album a week for 52 straight weeks.
"Well that sounds really fucking confining Bret!"
"Well maybe that's what I need right now fuck nose!"
It appears as though I can't count on my friends to keep me straight and show me a good time outside of bar crawling and sporting events.
"Hey Scharf! 3$ Carbombs at Crazy Lil's. TURNERS! Ahh shit rah fuck ahh shit...ahh...Keep partying!"
I love all of you deeply but things are going in a tough downward spiral. I'll be out once a week or couple weeks to show I can party way harder than you can, but for right now I'm gonna try some rigor.
So I'll go back to my self. I'll do what I like for a while. I'll read and lsiten to music. I like to get smoked and dry hump in bars too but that's becomming painfully ironic. Plus on top of that, the one girl I thought could change it around, and whom I was ready to change things around for, no matter how odd the situation was, hasn't really been all that receptive to anything. So I'll just leave her be for a while longer. So it's either books, music, and art and the occasional release...or it's Bret on a plane again to Tibet. Now that doesn't sound bad actually. But, I'll have to bid all you fine epeople adieu for much longer this time than last. Therefore I'm going to try a few new things in order to get the train righted and Bret thinking and working in a way that will make me super.
So happy Solstice.
My first week of rigor - to be concluded on Monday -
Book - Knut Hamsun, Sverre Lyngstad - Hunger
CD - Wilco - A Ghost is Born
Get on the wagon - it'll be around on Friday night!
Starting off the Day Right!
Walked out to my car to find the boot on it.
Call number given to me by boot people.
Wondering why I have boot considering I pay my tickets.
Informed I owe 776$ for unpaid parking tickets.
Calmly explain that I pay my tickets.
Clock reads 9:00 AM.
Boot people explain back that apparently I did not.
Sternly ask that they verify their records before I take out a small loan.
Angrily explain the incompetance of Baltimore Gov't.
Paid 776$ to have boot removed from car.
Clock reads 9:30 AM.
Walk to work.
Stop in at daily friendly Korean breakfast shop.
Talk in Korean.
Talk about the Korean man just killed in Iraq.
They sit me down to talk about America.
They don't like America.
I politely attempt to leave.
I am sat back down in my chair and am now having a round table with 5 Korean men.
Clock reads 10:00 AM.
Have not been to work.
Purchase Vitamin water.
Go to work.
Change of Face
Soundgarden changed their site around. It now has some decent looking things on it including the ever popular employee recommends section. It also allowed me to reflect that I sadly have purchaed two of their top ten latest cds. Those would be the Modest Mouse jaunt - but in big spinny black form - and the Franz Ferdinand jzaunt. Anyway..it looks more solid than the other site they used to have. It's such a great music store that they deserve some coolness. I was going to volunteer my services soon...for the price of 3 free cds a month...for life...but alas...somone beat me to it...Bretholmes.com is not reflective of my abilities it is more reflective of my ability to simply be..shall we say nicely...functional...
The Wilco Vinyl won't be out until late July. So...FUCK!
Does anyone know why cds are always released on Tuesday?
It was my blogs one year anniversary yeterday I should have gotten her a PHP based system with proper DB functions and somm RSS. Myabe next year baby...look how far i've come
I walked into the bar after she had taken my floppy hat the night before. She's a 6'2" Russian that doesn't seem all that bright. She's as sweet as could be and has a nice spirit about her. A spirit that can be seen from the outside as not existing inside but wanting to.
The night before she bit my lip really hard when we kissed. It was her way of letting me know something was hotter than kissing in an alley at 2 am. She had a tongue ring. She grabbed my ass. I was standing on the curb and looking her in the eye.
And yes last night I went back less than 24 hours later to retrieve a quite expensive hat that she aptly forget in hopes that I would ask to receive 'it' before the end of the night. Alas I did not. I went home. I told her a lie about how I was going to Whales for 10 days and that I couldn't see her. I don't want to see her. I don't find her attractive. I don't find her interesting. I find her to be female.
I walked out of the bar at midnight knowing soon I would have to catch a plane back to somewhere I didn't want to go. She ran from behind the bar, quite athletically, to catch up to me. She threw me up against the wall with ease, kissed me, bit my lip, and asked me not to leave. I was not amused.
The new Wilco album comes out tomorrow. I suggest you run to your local store, flying karate kick in the door, and grab the local pimpled face kid behind the counter, or the overgrown woman with too many tattoos by their colar, and scream "I want my FUCKING Wilco." The person working will look at you, nod, smirk, and hand it over to you. Your day will be brighter.
I was accused last night of having a blog that makes people feel bad. Well I apologize to Weste and the like and would like to say that it's not my intention to make anyone "feel" bad. I do tend to to get a tad heavy, judgmental, and pessimistic. It's all based on some sort of weird teaching/instructional parent love. I dislike a lot of things because I am going through a strange metamorphosis that is pretty painful. It's my way of filtering through mental memos of things I don't want in my life. I can't say I'm totally happy with my station. It's moving in a good direction centering around my job and my desire to change. It's been a rough few months, and to not know that it has been rough and to still think that I mean harm probably means you don't really talk to me enough to know my situation. or it is possible I haven't divulged the info that really shows why things tend to suck sometimes. I tend to get through by thinking about my mother and that somewhere out there somebody loves me and I'm going to make it through. Hell...it's father's day and I don't even know if my Dad is still alive. So...yeah...just stick with me...I'll do something amazing soon and be able to share more love than you have ever seen. I promise.
Mark Morford is just amazing - You guys should read his stuff. Here's an excerpt which made me laugh, nod, and then say, "Man, that was fucking hot I should post that".
Here it is: Because women are more powerful. Because women control and contain and embody the most potent of energies this world has to offer: its sex, its reproduction, its libido, all about Earth and the divine feminine and cycles of the oceans and the moon and birth and death and men can only stand back and kneel down and buy flowers and candy and go, wow, and damn, and oh my god, and then beat each other up and instigate wars.
This person is horrible, not to mention semi-literate, and their website is a cruel joke. I find it unfathomable how we can now draw lines about what is terrorism and what is not. I find it unfathomable that a group that claims others hate them have some sort of stake in saying that they themselves are now allowed to hate. That's a retarded fucking cycle.
We terrorize more than any other country in the world. The sanctions that we hold in alliance with other nations can cripple societies. The grubby natural resource whores that we are, absolutely cause once peaceful nations to resort to suicide bombings.
I don't feel the country should judge what is terrorism and what isn't. We have elected officials. They are our officials, feel free to judge them and criticize them. However, don't feel free to aid them in their pursuit. It's also fucking gross that these sites proclaiming to be pro-Talliban are all down. There are worse sites in the world than a pro-talliban one. I say it often, but I'm pretty sincere every time when I say that people should seriously think about fearing our Government, and looking internally as the cause of our own problems rather than looking at a rabble of an army that's barely able to feed and dress itself half the world away.
If we keep pushing creepy capitalist, christian agendas on the rest of the world, and raping them of their land and resources and using their people as slave labor we will eventually reep that harvest of distributed pain.
Miss Misery may be one of the best songs I have ever heard. I don't know what it is. I hear it live and it's not that good. I hear it in the produced version and it's just amazing. It has to do with the slight backup vocals and the intensity of the Mic turned up to pick up all the breaths in and the breaths out. There's a great transition from the acoustic guitar in the beginning to just the piano and snare at the end.They did something to Elliot's voice on this track because if you listen closely it's pretty much flawless except for the flaws they wanted to leave in there. It's close to genius.
Name That Rock Star
If anyone out there can name three four of these rock stars they will receive a free Jameson and water next time I see them.
Aren't some of them hilarious. Band names also count.
Link of the Decade
Here it is. The link that changed the world.
Randoms from Launch.com
It's Thursday. I'm being good and staying in all though it's beautiful out and I'm feeling frisky. I want to just be nice and chill right now. So here we go. A night of chess online and launch.com.
Well that was enough of that...I'm headed out
email@example.com was secure for exactly 18 months and 26 days. Not one piece of junk mail for that long. Today I got my first piece of shit mail from...American Education Services -
your student loan drop...with the AES Upromise
Eat out at restaurants...buy your groceries...
pay your telephone bill...shop online...fill up
your gas tank...and get $ to help pay back your
student loan faster.
All you have to do is worry about money more so we can keep you running around a rat maze trying to get laid and buy new clothes from Banana Republic. Isn't America grand!
FUCK YOU JUNK MAIL!...you have to say that like David Cross saying "Fuck You Granny"...you know what I mean...
An Adaptation of Neil Young's 'This is Nowhere'
I think I'd Like to Go
Or maybe to the clear blue sea water fresh lake lawn chairs out skin burning day with friends sucking down cigarettes and cheap beer
Or maybe to a mountain so high and obsolete in these days of man mountains that have taken nature's own presence and said no no no no no I Am Here Now!
Or maybe to some plant tropic place with animal skinned thonged men and women chase aorund after q-tip headed children as they play games with sea shells and waves.
Or maybe to a big city with the hustle tustle bustle all around the happenings of the turn style going round and round up and down elevators of people scurrying to not be seen or heard but yet screaming so loud to the country Fuck You! Fuck You! Fuck You!
Or maybe to space where the stars twinkle so bright all night and day and down on earth people look up to see my fat face pressed against God's window leaving fingerprints and breath marks for the ancient protectors of our beliefs to wash off.
Or maybe to culture's last bastille all penned up in blue and yellow silk waiting for the big fat American wallet to open so it can let go of all the fears and insecurities it once had about itself and is now justified by my presence.
Or maybe to the center peace wind swept valley of born children demons who are swaying and dancing with dandolion heads as they sing a soft tune all the way to the porch where I sit mouthing all the words they will ever need.
Or maybe out to the last ranges to buy a t-shirt that says, "look how plane I toooooo can be. Look at how much discpensable income I have accumulated" and they'll talk just like that.
Or maybe to the parking cinder rot lot where all are bullshit who go to find remote pieces of wild innocence instead of being at home pleasing their wives and supporting their families or pounding their own environment
Or maybe down the throat of angry tic toc passion that seems to pass on linen and satin beds where orgasms come down mountains like boulders being pushed by an overgrown child.
Or perhaps back home to the place we had all once wondered about how the rest of the world would look once we left
Upon Further Examination of Love
Who is anyone else to demand or feel it is owed to them to fall in love?
What sort of person blinds themselves with the idea of natural goodness only to come to the harsh reality that love is work?
Love is dependency to function. Maybe for a few brief "Haven't gotten to really know your pheromone smell" years it is passion and pain and happiness. But after a while I think most people are too comfortable with the pattern of life to ever consider breaking it. It's only when a variable that calls for a break arrives and a moral downfall comes about that marriages and loves break apart.
Who is anyone to believe that their love will come back to them?
Who is anyone to try and hang on in torture forever?
We hang on because it's easier than moving on. It's easier to judge than to except new things. It makes things simple when you try and compare everyone. It allows you never to get close to anything. It let's you sit an hope instead of getting up and living.
And Now I'm Fucking Pissed
I've been cruising around the past couple of days dl'ing legal mp3's of live shows by Wilco and Ryan Adams and other solid listening. And amongst every message board that I have to trudge through I see some sort of derogatory comment about Oasis. It's as though Oasis were a poster band for sucking. That's a damn shame.
Seriously I feel pity on anyone who honestly thinks that. It's as though you believed the media hype that was compounded by their own self-hype. Rock bands are supposed to be loud. Rock bands are supposed to be egotistical. We live vicariously through the idea that they fuck enough whores and do enough drugs for the rest of us. People loved the Stones, Ramones, the FUCKING WHO, the Beatles for fucks sake, and no one ever complained about them being too much of a rock star.
And then Kurt Cobain hit the scene rescuing the world from horrible metal hair bands singing rock anthems. And we as a society reacted to it whilst the rest of the world moved on to rock glory. The rest of the world grew to love Oasis. They weren't tainted by the self-loathing rock that caused teenagers to stop having sex and smoking pot to reading fucking poetry in coffee shops and shooting heroin. Damn our cynicism.
You see Kurt didn't affect me. Neither him nor Soundgarden , nor Pearl Jam, or even a Mudhoney resonated one bone in my body. Hell I was closer to liking 311 then I was those depressing fucking weirdoes. But I found Oasis one night in a basement surrounded by a bunch of males that weren't cool enough to enter a scene that we were all two years too late for, so we entered Britpop. We walked down the road triumphantly knowing that we were listening to something supreme. We loved the idea that we could get into ideological arguments with other people where we defended our rock demigods. And people...somewhere down deep...respected our decision.
They all knew the words to Wonderwall. Eddie Vedder and Anthony Keidus are self-proclaimed closet fans. Well stay in there. They are our band. You fuckers! Go listen to Daughter for the 500th time. I'll be drinking hard liquor, smoking cigarettes, and wearing smart shoes having a big old "go fuck yourself" smile on my face. Go wallow in your rock pity with the rest of the whiney bastards that you depend on for your own ideas about what's cool and what's not. My boys know what's cool. Being fucking happy. My band gives that to me every time. My band allows me to be entertained.
So "1,2,3,4,5...5 against 1" me forever. But I want you to realize that if you took the time to listen to it you would love it for nothing more than it is what rock n roll should be.
Top 5 Oasis tracks that you don't know for your DL'ing pleasure -
And Thankfully Ladies and Gentlemen the End is Here
We can now all breathe in a huge sigh of relief knowing that the most two pointless of all pointless sports has come to an end. Let us bid a fond farewell to Hockey and Basketball until November 1st.
With the passing of time we have learned that only true sports live up to lack of a superstar. I used to watch basketball back in the early to mid 90's. I was thankfully a child of the Jordan era and relished every Bulls game shown on primetime TV. I was also a child of the Gretzky (for the Kings) era. This was marked by the surging of the Great One bringing the frozen yawn to national attention.
And who do we have to thank for the emergence of these two sports during that decade, besides those two mentioned players? Well we can all thank ESPN for bringing us non-stop coverage of the most ridiculous "news" known to man.
I hold ESPN personally accountable for their whoring media production keeping fat white men in chairs at 11:30 PM to watch sports center to see if Radiklov Rackmonovich will be starting between the pipes on Thursday. I blame them for making it seem all so important. They treat a basketball game between the Hornets and Hawks more importantly then Dan Rather approached the war in the middle east.
I only become agitated about sports when I think of Basketball and Hockey. I love Baseball. I love football just a tad less then I love sex. Why?
Baseball is timeless and situational. It's spacial and the game itself calls for situations of patience that lead to greatness. It's like watching a chess match between athletic people. It's as though Robert Frost (also a huge fan) were composing a poem during the entire game and at the end he placed it down on his desk and it read, "Twins 7 Tigers 6".
Football is technological and violent all-be-it maybe not as violent as Hockey. But I tell you what, you give me Ray Lewis and whomever the NHL has as a bruiser to go toe to toe...I know whom I'm taking. And that would be big bad Ray. Football is analytical and situational. It’s 3rd and goal from the 4. They have a 48 yard field goal to win. It's sudden and instantly gratifying to watch football. You can call plays from home and start to understand the game without having ever played it. Its sports entertainment at it's best. It has graphs and charts and numbers that could go on for days. It is, in the fabric of time, right in line with what we as a society are experiencing.
So goodbye you boring yawnfest of games; hockey and basketball. Go lay dormant until the Olympics when we'll lose to Yugoslavia. Go bring back short shorts and no helmets. Where's Al Iafraite when you need him? Where's my Jordan? Will it be Lebron? I don't think so. Lebron will always be "the next" Jordan. But Michael will always be "the only" Jordan. Some guy with a trophy over his head with people around the world praying that he'll fall will always be "the next" Gretzky. Whereas Gretzky will always be "the great one".
Oh how I rejoice at the sight of two pointless trophies hoisted over falling TV ratings and a dwindling fan base. Tears of joy enter my eyes when I hear them say there might be a strike or another team is leaving town in the NBA. Oh to see both of them disappear would be glorious.
Daddy got a new phone. Lost everyone's number. Won't be calling until called upon.
I don't really care if people can see it or not...
The Pen is mightier Than the Keyboard
The true test of power in where you work is using a pen more than any other instrument.
Things in a corporation that can grade against you:
In Disagreement to Anti-Draft
Tim wrote an interesting blog post hoping to awaken people to the possibilities of the draft. He has provided resources and a whole bunch of capital letters.
I agree that the draft is against the more liberal principles of our culture. No one should be forced to kill. No one should be forced to die. No citizen of an idea, that propagates the pursuit of liberty and happiness, should be forced to fly around the world, in hopes of protecting our riches, to kill brown people who own a lot of dead dinosaur stock. I agree with this totally. I agree and understand that our country is continuing a vicious cycle that will one day make me extremely thankful that I can read and write Korean. Although my opinions on what should not happen to other Americans are similar to most liberal activists I find that personally I want to fucking kill people.
I love the idea of going to war. I find it romantic and exhilarating. I would love to serve my country if called upon. I wouldn't do it for American ideals. I would do it for my own personal growth.
Hemmingway signed up for it, Orwell went looking for it three times, Dostoevsky lived it, Heller dropped bombs on people, shit even Vonnegut fought in WW2. The idea of being in control of death and your own abilities to kill and propel yourself with nothing more than a wayward personal testament to live and suffer appeals to me. The idea of death and chasing it appeals to me. Immortality through nightmares and vivid pain is attractive. Unparalleled sights of destruction and chaos are something that can fill me. I am emotionally detached from horror. Wars, car bombings, or buildings falling down don’t emotionally move me. I think of the cause of what just happened, and then rationalize the action.
The draft is everything this country isn't. Unfortunately, some part of me, wants to own up to the idea that America isn't a free ride. We live in a country that affords us luxury beyond the rest of the world. We have space to move and live and breathe and fucking parachute out of planes. We have a country full of splendor the rest world envies with every passing breath of their lives. We should be responsible, in a just cause, to fight for that.
Do I believe the war on "terror" is justification of civilian lives? No.
Do I want to become a militarized nation? No.
Would I like to see my friends and family die for a cause that they will never reap the benefits of? No
Would I die for a cause I don't believe in? Not willingly.
Would I die just to chase death and see things no one will ever see? Absolutely
You may have read that and think that I'm rather morose or depressed or have a death wish. Well I'm not any of those things while I am writing this. The pursuit of extreme rare situations that provide me with severe swings of joy and pain is a noble quest. To sacrifice everything in hopes of memory's treasures and nightmares is beautiful.
Also, on a horrible side note...I would like to say that the American is Gov't going to eventually become extremely militaristic and overbearing. Who wouldn't want to be on a winning team...Imagine if everyone just joined up for the Army? I think that would fucking freak the US Gov't out...and they would have to go right back to the drawing board.
Weddings and Mood Swings
When you live life strongly and vibrantly you tend to have huge swings in your emotional center. I embrace these swings. I find them cleansing, reflective and helpful but to others they may be seen in a negative light. Well, to me, their mild blood temperature and self-paced emotions of a constant mild sickness is seen in a negative light so I don't really care.
These swings usually come when around other people. It's as if a tuning fork is always in the mind, constantly being struck and when it resonates horrible it is difficult to regain it's soothing balance unless it is accompanied by socially accepted drugs.
I was around a big group this weekend and as usual I reverted into a judgmental state of quiet reflection.
I went to a wedding on Sunday. I learned a couple things:
It's Friday so You Better Get Your War On
This guy should win some sort of award...the fact he's not in every paper in America makes me think that everything really sucks.
Looking in on Life from Behind Bulletproof 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 like I see them and I can attack them but there was 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 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 relly 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.
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.
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 only write this, and it's sadly in vain, because my words will reach few and move next to none. 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." But I see people every day and I want to absolutely cry for them.
Throwing in the Towel
You know...I've been reading a good bit lately. I just finished the last of the Rabbit series by Updike and that shitty Lawrence Lessig book about copyright or whatever the fuck. Through these books, other people's blogs, my own job, my dissipating social life, my excessive need to exaggerate to gain attention, and my inability to hold a conversation, I have decided once and for all to accept anything that comes to me.
It doesn't mean I can't pick the towel back up. Well I guess you can't recast a stone, but I like to feel as though I reserve the right to jump back in the ring when the time is right. But for right now my only artistic outlet will be this blog and the Art of Knowledge blog that will be started back up on Monday.
This is what I'm making a concerted effort to officially be through with:
That's a good start right now. I don't really feel earthy enough to do anything grassroots or cool. I really do believe the only way for me to win is to be serious.
I really don't know why. But I can't stop listening to this band...and of course the lineup is peppered with just the most perfect punk bass player of all time.
Timothious sent me an invite for some G. firstname.lastname@example.org (well that's gamil.com) but that would have gotten spidered and then my beautiful new account, which has a GIG a FUCKING GIG of storage, and all kinds of other cool stuff, would have gotten bomblasted.
Get Your War On Bitches
I remember being in South Korea when all this started to go electric. It was awesome! I would wake up in the morning, grab one of the English papers, written by pot smoking Brits, and see on the cover
:according to Kim
And the coolest thing about that was that the Koreans didn't even break a sweat. They didn't even lift an eyebrow. They still figure, for the most part, that the country is still one and that it would be best to just put shit back together. The only thing stopping that is the Korean Gov't sucking at America Tit and Ass.
If Mexico said on the cover of their trash bag newspaper
:according to Perez
Americans would have a total meltdown and Mexcio would then be part of yet another conspiracy to break out 300 foot saws and caste it away into the south pacific. We would inavde them in no time.
South Koreans really believe that North Koreans would never harm them. I mean they know it's communism and all, but to be quite honest, they really suck at capitalism. They have the highest consumer debt in the world, the welfare system has been all but abandoned because of corruption by major corporations, and the old people call themselves with a mocking jest, "The 51st state".
If you are looking for a place to absolutely explode in the next 10 years it will be South Korea. They are one city and one airport away from kicking pointless countries like Spain and Italy out of the International spotlight.
If you like to travel and you want to get rich...move to South Korea and hatch an idea that was adopted here in let's say 1978. That's about how far they are behind.
**BTW - What makes that post are two things. One - The use of "Indeed". Two - The face of the dude being North Korea.
Come Get Your War On
The idea of information being the greatest commodity in about 5 years is extremely scary and promising. I think people can leverage the playing field if technological proficiency and information become our main resources.
There was no way we could have fought or protected against the cold war without tanks and bombs and guns and people from Oklahoma not wanting to go to college. But, those wars are gone. As a matter of fact war itself is pretty much gone. There are surges and pockets of resistance and your sparse and horrific attacks, but for the most part, we don't track down regimens in the jungle anymore. We more or less try to track information and find key personnel.
If wars are now fought like this, then who are enemies? What walls do we have to build on what parallel to keep other countries out? Oh...that's right...borders won't exist anymore...ahh..the world Gov't soon to come... What weapons are there?
Information is easily, well next to an airforce I guess, the most powerful weapon in the world. The beautiful thing about that, is that much like muskets and rifles back when arming yourself was still a viable constitutional right, we can now arm ourselves with relatively the same weapons as anyone else. We can arm ourselves with the ability to gather, interpret, and then manipulate information.
The most frightening thing about the new information paradigm is warm blooded, run of the mill, patio furniture Americans who don't mind if the Gov't tracks how many times a day they shit. The apathy and social unawareness of your average American is fucking gross. Actually the awareness of you average American is Ok. The awareness of the poor is fuckin gross. The apathy of the average American is still fucking gross though.
Go out on the street and ask someone whether or not they "really" think there is a war on terror. They'll fucking say "Yes!". And then ask them who do they think the war is against. They'll say "Iraq or Al Qaida or Pakistan". They won't even think to assume that EVERYONE is considered a fucking terrorist to the United States government. I mean EVERYONE...right now you think it's only little brown people with a whole shit load of vowels in their name...but wait until Ms. Molly Richardson from Lincoln Nebraska or Mr. Bob Johnson from Seattle Washington do something classified as terrorism...you wait until that happens...You'll be singing a different fucking tune.
I personally say bring on the fucking terror. Bring it on! I'd rather have terror that I can partake in and arm myself against than be a passive observer while the greatest idea in history is turned into a fucking rag by a whole bunch of greedy bastards.
I find it hilarious that my taxes pay to keep me enslaved and in fear. Seriously...I find that fucking hilarious. And when I say "in fear" I'm sure as shit on a race track not talking about some middle eastern guy with a surface to air missile 10 thousands miles away. I'm without a doubt talking about our own Gov't.
I fear a cop pulling me over more than I ever feared Saddam Hussein.
I fear the fucking guy at the Airport with a GODDAMN M-16 more than I could ever fear Kim Jung Il.
I fear George Bush doing things like banning abortion, banning gay marriages, raising drug penalties, listening to soccer moms as a main demographic, tapping my phone, reading my emails, giving me a US ID card to stop travel between states, raising the US deficit, making sure old people in 30 years (namely me) can't get social security, and more importantly killing fellow Americans so other rich white fuck faces can get even more rich.
I mean how many boats and homes does one man need?
If I saw Rumsfeld on the street I would get more of a feeling of fear and terror from him than if I saw Osama Bin Laden himself strutting around the Baltimore Inner Harbor. I'm dead serious.
If John Ashcroft came to my house I would have to watch my words more carefully in front of him then in front of God.
Here's some advice people. Get proactive with the ability to mine information. Get proactive with the ability to network with nameless faceless people who can provide processing power. Learn your new environment because it sure as shit ain't gonna look like this in 5 years. Learn how to overthrow things and start things. I can guarantee a revolution will come sooner or later. It has to...I mean look at the y=mx^2+b here...it absolutely has to...
First off I plan on making a concerted effort to bring back the word "Buckets" to everday usage.
For example: Instead of saying "Awesome", "Cool", "Hot,"...we will now be replacing that with "Buckets"...just like back in 7th grade.
Secondly - Doug - Who is without computer for a while apparently - Well he bought me the Iron and Wine CD and it is by far the best CD I have heard this year. I can't stop playing it. And Enon is now a staple on my new record player at home....
Yep...I'll be working pretty hard for the next couple of days...Oh and by the way...I'm dateless for my friend's wedding in OC. If there's a female that wants to go to Ocean City, sleep on the floor of someone's house and leave again Sunday evening after basically doing nothing and having a rather mediocre time at a wedding you won't be able to help but snicker at...then by all means let me know...Else...it'll be me and my usual girlfriend Glenlivet.
Bret Bret Bret
Bret needs to change.
Bret is dying.
Bret is not well.
Bret is not physically healthy.
Bret is not mentally healthy.
Bret is starting to become depressed on a regular basis.
Bret needs to change.
At the Airport...talkin' 'bout the airport...
At the airport I noticed something absolutely horrific. Well I guess I noticed two things but that one man perpetrated them leads me to remember them as one.
I was sitting reading a Herman Hesse book trying to find the inner-me when this fat pimple of a human being started to blather on to his fellow cohorts about his job, his wife, his money, his kids, his ass hair and other various items that he could not possibly keep to himself. This man talked to the two skinny Irish gentleman so much that it became appallingly evident that he was everything I feared about my life.
Herman Hesse once said, and I'm paraphrasing, "The things we hate about other people are the things that we hate about ourselves." I somehow saw myself in this man. I saw myself blathering away time after time making people around me feel uncomfortable and agitated. I saw myself acting as though I had something to say but instead simply mouthing the words that no one wanted to hear.
This wretched waste of a human being and his fat equally obnoxious wife had gotten to me. I wanted to punch him in his throat. I wanted to take a potato pancake and shove it up his nose until it took the place of his fucking eyes. I hated this human being more than anything in my entire life. But, the sad truth still remained that what I hated about him was actually in my life. The phoniness was there. The on stage mentality that this man so eagerly let drip from his fat hairy chest was also, at time, evident in me.
I became so enraged that I went to the bathroom to wash my face. Upon entering the bathroom I noticed that my shirt was on inside out. I laughed at myself. Thought about keeping it like that all day. Thought about the things people must have thought this morning as they watched me walk through security. I laughed and turned my shirt right side in.
As I walked back out the plane was boarding for San Antonio. The fat cow assed people and the beauty queens that live in the south never cease to amaze me. They waddle or they strut. Their breed is odd as it allows for total racism yet country charm to boot. It's a strange lot. On the plane however a new and somewhat disturbing trend has superceded anyone's cultural make-up. The plane culture immediately takes into effect. The culture that is deemed appropriate in the epic battle of, what I like to call, "Don't sit next to me Motherfucker!"
First off, people begin lining up for the plane an hour (that's right an hour) before the boarding begins. It's usually the business men who fly all the time and would have their entire lives ruined if they don't get the first row aisle seat. They stand at the front of the line looking more and more agitated every second. The next thing you will notice are the cell phone yellers that always have to make one last call to the office about a conference call or package to be delivered. It must be imperative that they make this call because they speak loud enough and repeat everything so many times that everyone in the terminal could do the job of the lackey they are calling on the other end. This call also usually ends with their new customized voicemail being set -
As the loading of the plane starts the real scariness of the plane culture takes over. You see the plane culture overwriting everyones culture. You could be a goat herder from Bangladesh or a Wall Street executive, it makes no difference because if you board the plane before everyone else, your job is to immediately stake our territory.
It's a sick world on an airplane...a sick world...not to mention the plastic stewardesses, horribly drunk sounding pilot, and 2 square feet of room you have to try and sleep inside of....
What shocked me was the embodiement of two horrible atmospeheres (pre, and plane ride) embodied in this man. I hope he learns to look at someone like people look at him. Well..then again he probably already does.
I'll have more on my return...
There are two Neil Young songs that I can't seem to stop playing.
After the Goldrush is a sad ass tune that imagines the artist looking back at the 70's in disgust. It's a fat tune that most people skip over because it starts out so damn sad bastardly.
Everybody Knows this is Nowhere just a gret old fashioned rock a billy tune that reminds me of Almost Famous. It also reminds me of eating popcorn outside and hearing the crickettes chirp.
I've been real sad the last 10 days or so. I need to snap out of it. Maybe this trip to Texas tomorrow will be the answer. Peace ya'll's I'm hopping on a plane.
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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