I Kan't Spell
Hip Hop on My Winamp Makes Me Happy
I never really thought about it but Hip Hop is the best pick me up music on Earth. My current evolution into Punk and Hip Hop over the past two days has been a welcomed change. I think I have been miring in my sad bastard tunes for too long. Since I love music so much it's almost as if it dictates my moods. "Aww she's gone...blah blah...I miss her....blah blah" Yeah that shit is no good sometimes.
But I tell you what...you put on the Dangermouse Gray Album and hit up some 99 problems, I feel a thousand times fuckin better. Especially when you are a young professional with cash to burn you can honestly sing out loud "I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one." You know how good that feels to sing and bob your head to. Now, that's only for private use. Private people...private.
Anyway - - - this is the best afternoon I have had in a good time. Just me..my meat sauce...Dave Chapelle Live...and some Hip Hop...ahh...smile...
"If candy was what they wanted I would use it to my advantage. I would put it on my desk and trap the students."
"Hey Dave is that some candy?"
"Yeah...what you got some homework answers motherfucker? You like candy and I like having the right answers to my motherfuckin questions. I was young but I knew the game."
Santa Came Late
Well it seems as though my company had a change of heart and decided to issue bonuses this year. And man - AWESOME! Because our bonus structure is extremely hit or miss. So when you get it...you get the whole thing. 10% of your salary! How smoking is that? Man I may go out and fucking crush something on New Years now...
Happy New Year Everyone,
Rock n Roll Moments Are What Make the World Go Round
I sat there looking out of my 3rd story window last night. I saw new people moving into the house across the street. I should say I saw two new girls moving into the house across the street. I looked down at my dirtying, impossible to clean, glass desk and all it's keepings. I looked at my watch and saw it was time for me to go to bed soon. I listened to the music and began to feel sad again, after listening to the same stupid song for the last 3 hours. I wondered to myself, "When did Rock n Roll become more about following the rules than breaking them."
I sat back in my chair, intertwined my fingers, let out a large sigh and thought that I may just want to jump out the window to teach everyone a lesson. I think I may want to be an example of the execution of the human spirit. I examined the option and it seemed almost befitting to want to execute my plan at this time of the year. But then, I thought that the best revenge is to live well. And that's bullshit too. Maybe the best revenge is to exhume envy from those who you always wanted to covet what you had. Nah...fuckin dumb again. Maybe there is no revenge. Maybe there is only you living your life the best way you know how while causing as little pain to the rest of the world as possible. Oh fuck I didn't know what to think. So I sat there and smoked a cigarette and kept playing that lousy fucking song about being a 102 and never getting over you.
When did it become acceptable for me to grovel for a job where I don't get respect enough to hand someone a towel as they get done shitting? When did it become ok to use women as the motivation to drive my action instead of them being the action to drive my motivation? All fucking puppets in my show. Soul mate. Lord. What a laugh? Soul acceptance maybe, even deprecation at this point seems reasonable, as long as it's numb right? What would Lydon think? Ahh who cares - he'd spit on me. What would Weller think? I don't really know him. So I don't know that one either. But the rules started to switch everything around. The rules, the money, the pussy, the elder sneers, and houses in shitty middle class suburbs all made it so confusing now. Up was down. Denim was Khaki and being the class clown was a sign that you were going to fail as opposed to you having all the attention at lunch.
I blew ring after ring of smoke and I sat there. Then I opened my window. There was no screen or curtain. I sat on the ledge with my feet dangling over. It felt nice having my naked skin out in the winter air. It felt nice to think that someone down below or parallel was watching and running somewhere to get a camera to photo my rock n roll moment. I turned that stupid fucking song up real loud and sang out my window. I laughed at myself and thought about leaning out a little further just to give the awaiting photo an action shot instead of a passive contemplative artistic shot. I laughed at that song as I sang it because it was pathetic that I was singing it. Then this other song came on...it was..."The Only Living Boy in New York" by Simon and Garfunkel. I spit out on the car below me.
I climbed back in through the window and sat back down. I took out a picture of an old girlfriend and looked at it. I put it back and reached for my records. I took out The Clash, Pistols, Stooges, and The White Stripes. I played Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground first followed by Revolution Rock and then some Save the Queen. As a testament and a sacrifice to my listening I hurled that pathetic CD with that song I have been listening to out the window and down to the street. Hopefully, someone got a photo.
An Open Letter to a Conversation I Will Have With the Next Girl I Love
I sat around tonight. With the ghosts and the rocks in the yard. We sat around tonight. And out of the thinking we realized that one of us doesn't care. That one was I. You looked at me with hollow eyes and an agape mouth as I tried to explain that it was just a hole you filled. You were a nothing. You were a replacement for something that I had once dreamed. I am tortured and all you do is fill me with substance. While that's nice, I don't believe in you. I never did. I never will. You are pumpkin seeds. You are nothing more than disposable stomach. You can look at me amongst the grass and Los Angeles. You can swig in my tears but you won't ever get to feel me laying beside you and holding you as though you were mine. You'll only get to feel me satisfy me and maybe you. If you were smart you would know it wasn't you I was after. It was me the whole time.
You fall apart all you wish to. You cry and mumble til the cows home. You can stand and sulk there waiting for me or for him or for whomever. But, they aren't coming. We don't exist. There is just you. There's just you and the rain and somewhere in there is a dream of New York. Somewhere in your little head you dream of a Volvo life. Somewhere down the road you can see lights blinking the same way they would on your wedding day. All I can do to keep from laughing is to have sex with you. All I can do to keep from making you a joke is to bring you into my life and hence have to defend myself with your presence. Die dream of nothing. Leave me be with my reality. Leave me to find and search all over again. Running along, chasing the new, the way a crazy man chases the sunset.
Ms. Kimya Dawson
--- The best performer/song person/interesting human being that you may or may not have ever heard of.
New Years and Stuff
You see, every New Years I kind of disappear to be by myself. This year seems to luckily be following pattern. Most of my friends are going to go to a local bar to celebrate the Old to the New. I have tickets to a show in NYC but have no one to go with and hence am not going. Actually I like the idea of not going anywhere for New Years. I like the idea that I'll be alone on this pointless day. I mean, it's not ideal, but it's refreshing. It's refreshing like being outside in the cold naked. It let's you feel really alive as opposed to a blurred reality at some local bar, or taking in a music concert with someone you don't really want to be with.
Spending an exclamation day alone is much like being martyred. Everyone will say, "Oh come to the bar." or "Oh go to New York." What the fuck do they know? I mean what the fuck are they gonna do that we don't already do during the week or on any given weekend? I go to conerts all the time. We get rip roaring drunk and laugh our balls off every weekend. What's the difference?
I haven't had a good time hanging out with people at official get togethers in years. I don't think I was ever good at being around people on Birthday's, or Holidays, or July 4th days. All that shit just seems too pronounced to me. Fucking stale people sitting around having forced conversation about bullsiht only to further their own lives via networking and "keeping in touch" in some marginal crappy way. I mean I want friends. I don't need to be asked by people, "How's it going?" or "So what's new?" I mean I know their heart is in the right place and that we don't see each other enough. But, I'm not going to trick myself into believing that we should be spending holiday's together. I want friends, not baseball cards of friends that I collect and then take out of the box twice a year to see what they are worth.
The New Years holiday seems forced and fake and I look around and I don't feel apart of anything, I feel alone. I feel like an outsider that was either begged or came begging to be engaged in something that I feel uncomfortable with. This all seems like a rationalization but it really isn't.
If I wanted to go to the bar I would. If I wanted to go to NYC I would. If I wanted to call other people to see what they were doing I would. But I have no interest. I have no interest in anything during this time of the year. This is not melancholy and this is not depressing, this is pure freedom. This, to me, is what makes me happiest. Being alone, and being martyred, or being thought about by others is what makes me happy. Actually being somewhere in person, doesn't make me happy.
I'll tell you exactly right now what I would do if I attended both of these activities (NYC, Bar).
Bar - I would go to the bar at around 10 o'clock. My friends and I would all stand in a huddled ball for about an hour. We would tell stories. And then one-by-one we would all ship off into our own little worlds. We would all create friend within friend clicks and then I would find myself at a Poker table somewhere and sit for hours. I would then get up from the Poker table a little before midnight to find that I was alone. I would miss Mirel. I would miss Jas. I would miss my other good friends who didn't have the inclination to call or wish me a happy New Year. I would miss my father. I would feel bad about refusing my Aunt and Uncle's invitation only to further my derelict behaviors looking at painted cards. All of this would be compounded by my excess intake of alcohol. I would then shortly leave after that only to walk home staring at my phone pondering whether or not to call people but only wishing it would ring. I would go home and cry and forget all about my year the best I could.
Does that sound like fun? - - Yeah - didn't think so.
NYC - This would be a slight improvement but I had to open my big mouth and tell Jas that there was a concert in NYC that had a band that both her and her boyfriend loved. So, what would I be doing there? Oh, I would be thinking the whole time, "Gee I wonder where she is? I think I see them over there." Plus, I don't really give a shit about Wilco and I've seen the Flaming Lips before and I mean, they're good, but I'm not losing any sleep over missing this concert. Don't get me wrong, it's a good one, but I've been more excited for other shows. So I would get real depressed at the concert thinking about Jas and her boyfriend holding each other real close in the upper deck somewhere. They would be swaying back and forth, kissing during appropriate crescendo changes. I would be standing in the front row with a plastic cup of flat beer, looking at my phone, wishing I could call someone who would care enough to want to hear a concert through a phone. After the show I would go to the Irish Pub and get fall down fuckin drunk while I sang sad Oasis tunes and relived moments of days passed.
So those are my options. That's pretty enticing right? Yeah - thought so. So what do I choose? I choose nothing. I choose a big fat emphatic nothing. I don't just mean for New Years either. I mean for the whole shebang. This isn't a once a week feeling. This has been coming down the pike for quite some time. I don't want to be around anyone for a while. Maybe, I'll hop online from time to time to chat. Maybe, you can keep up with me and my fucked up emotions and life on here from time to time. Your choice. But, for the most part, I have been waiting for quite a long time to be alone and not be bothered and maybe possibly sprout something of fruition and purpose out of my life. Because, this life sure isn't it. My life as it is now isn't growing a fucking thing. I'm still going to write but....I'll see you all later.
All These Years
*dead on - except that I don't drink coffee
I drink good coffee every morning
Comes from a place that's far away
And when I'm done I feel like talking
Without you here there is less to say
I don't want you thinking I'm unhappy
What is closer to the truth
That if I lived till I was 102
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
I'm no longer moved to drink strong whisky
'Cause I shook the hand of time and I knew
That if I lived till I could no longer climb my stairs
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
Your face it dances and it haunts me
Your laughter's still ringing in my ears
I still find pieces of your presence here
Even after all these years
But I don't want you thinking I don't get asked to dinner
'Cause I'm here to say that I sometimes do
Even though I may soon feel the touch of love
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
If I lived till I was 102
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
*This isn't a sad song really. Actually, as-a-matter-of-fact it's quite uplifting to me. It sort of tells me that this guy is ok with the idea of not getting over someone. But, it just feels likes me. It's so werid that someone can shape your life more than your parents or more than your friends. It's strange how you get retarded by influence, love, trust, and passion at a young age. If I would have met most of the people I know now at age 25, I wouldn't give a fuck about any of them. - I can't wait to be alone for a while.
Secret New Artist Society (SNAS)
This is Secret McSecrets here to tell you that he has found the new awesomeness. Yes, yes, yes, I often claim to find the new hotness but this time I have found the music to fill the void. For you Coldplay lovers out there I would like to introduce you to Athlete.
CLICK HERE TO WATCH THE VIDEO FOR "WIRES"
While the song may be slow, you will find that you want to play it again and again because it's damn good. Remember you were here first. You were clued in to the newness. Please feel free to not tell anyone unless they are super fucking cool.
Ghost of Xmas Past
A wooden Rudolph and possibly his brother Blitzen, but with a severe cold, sit next to the toilet that I piss in. In the other room people are greeting and shaking hands. Palpable conversation ranges from poker to stock markets (same fuckin thing if you ask me).
I stand outside and smoke a cigarette only to realize that I was and am poor.
There are 6 cords of Coral Maple sitting adjacent from my billowing smoke. There is a lone tree that someone has taken the time to decorate way out in the middle of the yard. The tree sits there with blinking virgin lights. The attention given to that one tree says more about the lives of these good people than anything I had expected. I became jealously sad.
There are 5 entrances to the house and you can see right in to the warm loving family room that is decorated with unread books and an unwatched TV. You can see people standing around enjoying each other's company in an honest and open way. I resort to familiar habits and traditional sneers
I put out my cigarette and carefully place it back into my own cigarette pack as to not litter their lawn.
I was king of my life. Now I am considerate of lawns.
When you are poor you don't know it until you have friends who aren't. Poor doesn't always mean money or houses or cars. Poor is the way you live. I live lazy with my television and my habits and my pregnant stories. I live bored and I don't hesitate to share that fact with anyone. I never had a party like this one in my house. My family never had more than 4 people who didn't live in our home feasting and dining at one time.
I would throw some parties in my teen years but they were mine. And those friends are not around anymore. Who would be my mid-life party guests? I couldn't even begin to make a list. The demoralization of finding that list later in life would be akin to reading your yearbook from elementary school.
What would I do with myself if my wife asked me to throw a Christmas party? First, I would have to have a wife. Second, I would have to have a residence capable of housing such an event. And third, I would have to have enough friends to want to go and be hosted on by me. I would probably say something to her like, "Nah, Xmas parties are for saps. I don't fucking want people in here. I don't want stupid conversation all night." Oh but how I would want that. But, since I don't meet the criteria and since I don't excel in social settings I shy from that. I shy from meeting and greeting successful, stable, adjusted people like a girl who doesn't know the answer in Trig class.
Back inside bar room antics are all I can use to assimilate. I point fun at things that aren't mine and act as though I am one of them but in actuality I am none. I am set apart by nothing other than my own head. These wonderful people would gladly take me in to a conversation or a meal. They would allow me to be a part of their festivities. Hell, they already have. But, what did I do? I cowered like a scared hamster being reached for in a cage. I drank booze and jumped back into cold smiles and awkward advances of parlor games and tricks. I became the lazy poor boy I had grown up as.
I became poor again. The smell and the look never leave the poor. You can watch over a crowd of people and without speaking to any of them you know who has lived harder and cried more. You know automatically by sunken faces and gray tones that they have thrown their life away via alcohol or drugs or even cigarettes to cover pain. You see their drooping eyes and shabby brushed off clothing. You see their cheeks not so rosy and you see their engagement in conversation not so forthright.
The house glowed with all that celebration should be. There were stories and libations. There were kisses on cheeks and people shaking hands with both hands. There was coat taking and food passing. All the older women looked like perfect hostesses and the men looked like they had come in from an LL Bean for the elderly shoot. And there I was in my fake pea coat outside smoking a cigarette. I was careful of the lawn. I was observant of the tree. I was reverent of the life I may never have. I respected this house and this time as though it was the most holy thing I had ever come across.
And you know what? It just may have been.
jasika888 : cause thats what bret does when hes nervous
bretmsholmes: i dont laugh when im nervous
bretmsholmes: how the hell do you know that
jasika888 : cause i know
bretmsholmes: no no nonon onon o
jasika888 : what?
bretmsholmes: i dont laugh when im nervous
jasika888 : you do
bretmsholmes: i dont
bretmsholmes: I DONT
jasika888 : yes
jasika888 : yes
bretmsholmes: you dont know that
jasika888 : i do
jasika888 : i just said it
jasika888 : i know
bretmsholmes: I DONT
jasika888 : ok jeeze
jasika888 : i think you do
bretmsholmes: I know I do
jasika888 : hahaha
bretmsholmes: but ill keep saying I DONT forever
jasika888 : see
jasika888 : are you surprised that i picked up on that?
bretmsholmes: you are very perceptive when it comes to people
jasika888 : thanks! thats a compliment
jasika888 : im serious
jasika888 : anyway
jasika888 : so you laughed
bretmsholmes: yeah i nervously laughed
jasika888 : hahah
bretmsholmes: i mean i dont laugh because im nervous
bretmsholmes: i laugh to get a grip on whats coming out of my mouth next
jasika888 : hahahah
jasika888 : good method
bretmsholmes: and since its usually sarcastic - a preceeding laugh is standard
jasika888 : haha
bretmsholmes: it makes it look like i had that line all along
jasika888 : i may use that
jasika888 : anyway
jasika888 : so you told her no
bretmsholmes: just chuckle - gather yourself - and then spit fuckin fire
jasika888 : hahah
bretmsholmes: it seems so much more poignant
bretmsholmes: like you've been waiting to say it for hours
jasika888 : definitely
bretmsholmes: and it just so happens that coincidentally this moment in the conversation has allowed you to be sarcastic and witty whilst making your combatant cry
bretmsholmes: ahh the joy of cynicism
bretmsholmes: will it ever end
bretmsholmes: so yeah i laughed
Feel so lonesome in the moonshine
Moonshine brings me grief
Waves crash in pounding the Earth
With their unwilting power
The Pacific looks like no blue
The salt tastes like no spice
The people in my life burn
Compliance does not enter
Ether works through their heirs
Satisfaction comes in punishment
Waves tumble over limp bodies
Each screaming like one piece of sand
Burns upon my face
And the glory of the shining
Leads me to your warm embrace
Will not bring me any peace
All I had when I woke up was your photo. I must have been holding it when I went to bed. The holidays are alwayd hard when you're alone and all you want is to not be. The holidays make life seem so empty.
Your name came up at dinner. I said that you were ok. That fact I don't know.
I know that in this photo you were happy. I know that in my mind you are still that beautiful. I know that in my heart there is a hole that still needs to be filled. I know that in my soul there isn't anything I wouldn't give to watch you sleep again. There is nothing I wouldn't sacrifice to hear your voice or make you smile.
I lost my best friend 4 years ago. I lost my peace. I have this photo and it gets me through. It let's me know there was a time that we were happy. It lets me know that there was a time I was whole and that I too was smiling.
All I want for Christmas is to know that you are smiling the same way you were in this photo. You were smiling with your head cocked to the side and your tongue out. I had made you laugh. I can do it again. I promise I can.
Call Me on Your Way Back Home
Why do I miss you like I do
Oh I miss my sweet
And the birds all singing blue
Call me on your way back home, dear
Cause I miss you
Honey I ain't nothing new
Why did I treat you like I did
Honey I was just a kid
Bubblegum on my shoe
But you loved me and I loved you
Call me on your way back home, dear
Cause I miss you
The Greatest Work Assignment Ever!
Ok so I travel a lot for my job. 2 - 3 weeks out of the month I'm on the road. Usually I'm in NYC or Texas. But I've spent some weeks in Fla., Detroit, Iowa, Minnesota, Ohio, Diego blah blah blah - but get this - ARE YOU READY FOR THIS!?!
THEY ARE SENDING ME TO NEW ORLEANS From JAN 31 through Feb 11 - And ladies and gentlemen do you know what time of the year that is? Oh man - - - that's right? That's motherfuckin right! It's Mardi Grad. Now this could spell trouble but to be honest all I want are the festivities. All I want is to be at one of the worlds greatest events. What are the odds? WHAT ARE THE ODDS?
All you heard from my little cubicle when I received the appointment was:
"Oh fucking hot gig!"
followed by slight chuckles heard from throughout the office...
Xmas to Me
*Disclaimer - This is not a self-pity post. This is an angry post.
"So this is Christmas, and what have you done...the rich and the poor ones..." - Oh Shut the Fuck Up! Xmas - (laugh!) - Yet another reminder to me of how far I have fallen. This is just one more day to make feel even worse about myself. Personally I just wish Xmas would leave me the fuck alone. I wish it was never here and if it was here I wish it REALLY was about wholesome good community family type shit.
I wish I could go to my grandparents house, as I do every year, and actually just sit around and eat food and shoot guns or ride 4 wheelers or whatever the fuck we could do. Instead they look at me like I'm from another planet. They look at me as though I were some sort of preppy alien. They hand me gifts as if I were going to spit on them. In actuality they don't even shop for me anymore. They just give me money. When people don't buy you Xmas presents, it's a nice way to say, "Umm yeah...you suck." When good people know you suck - chances are - you suck!
Every year the card holding the money is stamped - "Always the right size. Always the right color."
Don't get me wrong. My relatives that live in that sleepy little nook of Pennsylvania are more amazing people than I or my end of the family could hope to be. They are quiet, reserved, intelligent, and perceptive. Granted they are a little angry, or sullen, I guess you could call it, but for the most part they are what good Americans and people hope to be. They are God fearing, family loving, hard working people that I wish I had come to respect more as an adolescent.
Xmas was always very anxiety stricken around my house. The house never looked right with a tree in it. It was as if there was a sign of warmth in a place that only really knew cold. It was like watching a crippled child pull a ton of bricks up a mountain while 3 Giants stood watching and laughing. The tree and the presents and the stocking always symbolized a sham. It always made me think that my mother was just going to cry at any moment.
There are certain things I look forward to now that I didn't use to before. I look forward to clean air and the quiet of the country. I look forward to talking with my Grandfather and eating good home cooked food and being able to drink out of the faucet. I like my little cousins more now that they are older but have a hard time identifying with them because you can almost feel how much they have been told, "Don't grow up to be like cousin Bret." But then again, I don't know if that's true. I'm sure it isn't but I feel like I should tell them that anyway. They should grow up to be like their parents and grandparents. Actually I can't think of one emulating attribute that I wish they had of mine.
Overall Xmas makes me pretty fucking sad. I hate watching happy people shop for gifts. And I hate receiving cards in the mail from family and friends. I guess I would hate not seeing it more - but honestly if Dec. 25th were the same as July 19th - it wouldn't bother me a bit. But, it's a good sad and a good angry. It's the kind of sad that allows me to reflect. I'll be alone again this year. There will be no Father, and no Mother. There will be no girlfriend or wife. I will have my Grandparents and Aunt and Uncle. And there I will sit at the end of the table. Man without ilk. Man without a fold.
I know I said that I wouldn't write about girls or sad shit anymore but it's tough when I'm so vulnerable to just wanting to be loved. When you screw up your life so bad all you want is someone to maybe right that ship. All you want is verification that your life means something beyond buying people drinks, telling stories, and being the butt of other stories. All you want is someone to save you. And you end up loving well too hard and believing way too much. When you are alone this is what happens. When you are not well in the head this is what happens. You get depressed and you want to throw everything away and make no excuses anymore. You just want to be clean. You want to forget. You want to be strong. You feel like hollow teeth of an old man when you are a rotten person on Xmas.
Just to be clean is the dream. Just to walk with purpose instead of shame is ideal. To be able to honestly and openly tell somebody about your life without it being a punch line or lie is such a dream at this point that all you do is sit around and wonder, "When will I be clean again? When will all this pain go away? Where is my Xmas?"
Xmas doesn't help this cause. It could if it was actually benchmarked. Instead I find Xmas to be a hollow sham of an excuse. It is a day to measure our life by thoughtfulness through money or imagination. What if you have neither? You become a schmuck. It's a day to merit that a sweater is worth more than sticking up for someone in a fight. It's a day to remind us that our deisres are more important than our intentions or convictions. It allows us to painfully see that all we have given in the past has now amounted to only lost memories and faded stories. It's a painful reminder to me that recovery is so far away. It's a painful reminder that all you have in life sometimes is to be loved.
Merry Xmas everyone....that's fucking funny. Jesus that was the most depressing Xmas blog ever written. You all must be thinking that I'm about one step away from offing myself...lol...well anyway...
I don't know how much I'll be posting in the near future. It's that time of the season and all. So despite my demoralizing post I hope everyone I know and have come to love over my life enjoys their holidays. Remember to hug your family a few extra times. Take it from someone who doesn't really have one - it's well worth it.
A couple more things on elitist music
1. It's not as though I get my music in any special way. I like music. I talk to people about music. Everyone likes different things and some people go deeper into their own genre or locality to find the cream of their passion. (eww that just sounds dirty) And so they tell me things and I go out and check them out.
2. All the music that I listen to I gladly offer up on here with recommendations and (occasionally) links to get the music. It takes 5 minutes out of your day to fall in love with Damien Rice (although so will everyone else in 2 months) or to get down to the Black Keys.
3. Untouched music is the best. Music made by people without limitations or concerns. People just living to make music. People occupying a tiny apartment with their band and dressing up in the same black suits or dirty corduroys for every show make the world go BOOM!. They alert you to what you once were. They remind you that you too were once semi-carefree playing in leaves in your backyard. It reminds that you too used to stick your tongue out at adults and never want to stop watching the Never Ending Story. They blow their music through the instrument that is your body. And they do it without plastic and without commercials and without fucking Ipods or Rollingstone magazine. They do it because that's their life. I'm not saying the other more successful or commercialized bands didn't have that at one time but now they aren't free. They aren't independent to stick tongues out. They are reliant to keep mansion and cars and girlfriends and clothes. They don't live in a dirty apartment anymore.
4. Picasso was a hack. Always remember that and everything else will fall right into place.
Ole' Fur Ball put up asolid post taht I would like to reply to.. I love waking up and reading people's blogs. It has to do with her assuming that people are "snobs" if they listen to music that no one else listens to and it is a letter that she created that sounds her animosity towards a world that personally I think she would like to crack.
Thank you for applying to the Secret New Artist Society (SNAS). We have very carefully reviewed your application and resume. On behalf of SNAS we would like to welcome you to our small family.
You have strictly 5 hours to accept or decline this offer.
Terms and Agreements:
1.You will study the various artists whose names will be sent to you at random
2. You will buy their album immediately
3. You will be sent a schedule regularly of which hole in the wall random ass venues and/or garages they will be playing in. We expect you will see every show and mail us either a photo of your stamped hand or ticket stub as proof that you indeed were there.
4. You will not tell a fucking soul about these artists until they have sold 873 albums, then you may share your knowledge with the rest of the world.
5. You will never ever tell anybody about SNAS, as we do stress that this is a SECRET New Artist Society.
6. You will not print out this e-mail...if you already have-you overzealous bastard...burn it now.
7. You will delete this and all future e-mails immediately after taking a mental note of the artists names etc.
Your artist that you have been assigned this month has already been chosen. Their estimated arrival into the ears of normal people and actual radio stations is approximately 2 years and 23 days. We will send you the name of this artist as soon as you agree to the aforementioned terms.
So and so, We look forward to your acceptance phone call in less than 5 hours. Welcome to the family! Please remember our goal here at SNAS is to keep everyone that is not one of "us" completely in the dark about new artists that will one day blow away the music industry with number 1 hits and albums. As a part of the family you are entitled to make everyone feel like a complete asshole when they come to realize that you have known about their "new favorite song" for years! Congratulations.
Founder and CEO
Secret New Artist Society
First off, I consider myself to be amongst this weird little circle. I don't take offense to this. I will not speak for my other brethren but I myself act this way from time to time because my music is my intimacy. (Honestly I'm not half as bad as some people I know. As a matter of fact I think I may be the most mainstream or at least trendy listener out of all the SNAS faithful.) When other people that I either don't know, or cannot identify with by external attributes, listen to my tunes I take it personal. I have been known on several occasions to approach people singing songs that I chose in a juke box to query them on how on God's green fucking Earth they come to know this band or song.
I wasn't always like this with music. I listened to whatever top 40 song came on the radio when I was young. I played whatever my parents listened to and that spawned me into an appreciation for different music but not an affinity. My love for strange or undiscovered music actually started with what may have been the most overexploited band of all time; Oasis.
I loved Oasis so much that it didn't have to be intimate. Actually, an intimate Oasis show, while awesome, would seem hollow to me. I wouldn't be able to jump up and down at such an anonymous rate. And my singing at the show may somehow carry to the ears of the band members causing them to say, "Look you fookin twat. Stop yer singin and listen to the fookin words man." This would be bad intimacy. But an acoustic Noel set with close friends who also share the appreciation; well that's just a weird wet dream.
Anyway...I loved Oasis so much that I would read every piece of print written about them. I scanned the Internet looking for any quote or any spec of outside interest carried by the band. Like all bands they love music. And like bands with power, their endorsement of a band can lead to a minimum of 50,000 records being sold. On top of this I thought that the bands that opened for them were hand picked by the actual band themselves and not by the record label (doh!) so I became interested in bands such as Cornershop, Travis, and Soundtrack of Our Lives. While not equally as enthralled with these bands I still had a thirst for what now had become a passion. So I would read about these bands and buy their albums and the trend spiraled.
Going to see these bands play lead me to research other bands on their label or that had opened for them or received their endorsement. Bands such as Remy Zero, Coldplay, Creeper Lagoon, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club spawned new chapters to read. And from those bands the trend continued again until you get down to semi-basement rock.
I'll admit that most of my bands are more popular than other bands and my friends know this. They also know good music. I have been lured in every direction from Phish to Probot and after a while it's not the music that counts anymore. It's the "good" in the music. It's the resonation that you get from putting on Teenage Fanclub or Wilco for the first time. It's the aura of the music that rips at you. Besides "the good" in the music it's also the respect you have for someone who appreciates music and being willing to take their advice in search of new tunes. You see the sparkle in their eye when the talk about "The Archers of Loaf" or "Crooked Finger". It's as though you are looking to rekindle the flame you had when it was just you and your first band that you loved.
And the more bands you find the more alone you want to be with them. I remember finding The Strokes and Coldplay and God knows what else up to a year in advance of them even being on the radio. And somewhere deep down it breaks your heart that the bands you knew before they were even really birthed are opening for the Stones or appearing on Reebok commercials. It's as though you had a hometown great athlete that grew up and made it to the pro's only to forget about you. You wanted him and his accolades all to your realm. You wanted to watch him from within your own safety net of "I told you it was good."
The flip side to that coin is that all people who love Indie music or Underground hip hop or whatever attracts you to "hole in the wall" venues secretly want their band to succeed. Despite the lack of intimacy, somewhere deep down you have to let them go. You had your time with them. You made love to them as though they were a beautiful woman. You got to see them and touch them when they were so close to pure. But, like all things beautiful, they are destined to float to the top. So you let them go into the lights and into the airwaves and you remember the times you had and it's bittersweet and something that no little girl jumping up and down outside of the MTV building at 3:00 can ever take from you. And that feeling is so special that you get up and you go looking for it again. and again. and again.
So in response to that open letter I say, "No of course you don't need the SNAS elite to help you choose music. Music is your heart. No other medium can move you to be so many things. You can't dance to movies and you can't sing at TV shows and you don't make love to art nor do you hold someone close while reading a book. Music is our God given appetite to live. It is our reminder that we loved and we cried. It is our grieving and our celebration. Nobody writes your symphany. You listen to whatever moves you to dance, make love, cry, hold, or sing. The question is how many people do you want to share it with and how long do you want to keep that feeling fresh in your life? You said that you hadn't listened to the songs that moved you in so long. There is a reason for that. At one time they had gotten stale. Like it or not you couldn't listen to "Georgia" by Ray Charles or "Do Right Woman" by Aretha Franklin everyday. Imagine if you joined SNAS that you can go and find new music that moves you to extremes everyday. Everyday you can be reborn."
Shut the Fuck Up
Whiney sniveling posts about girls and bad poetry are what I have become? Oh no. OH NO! OK. That's it. Fuck that. Fuck you and fuck you and fuck you too. It's all me and none of you in this fabled little tale of a square headed kid trying to make it on his own. So yeah...sure the xmas retail season can be tough to mire through and the absence of stability can be a mean crutch...but I say...for now...Fuck that! I'm cool on my own. If I can hitchhike to Phucket then I can get through being all distressed about a girl. Jesus Mary and fucking Joseph! What a bore I have become. Tsk Tsk Tsk. Back in black.
Mirel had a dog. That dog's name was Hunter. When Mirel and I couldn't keep the dog we brought it to live at my house. My Mom feel in love with the dog and now the dog lives with her in Vegas. She was the nicest Rottweiller in the world.
Yesterday, Hunter had her leg amputated because she has cancer. Poor girl. My Mom was real upset. I was actually sort of upset, which is rare for me. I mean I have never cried at a funeral or when any of my other pets died. But Hunter is a special dog. She doesn't like me very much but she loves everyone else. I mean she loves everyone. Anyway...she's a good girl. And I thought for those people who ever knew that dog, they might want an update.
I think the old saying goes, "Fool me once; shame on you. Fool me twice; shame on me." (I don't think the semi-colons are necessary, then again I never really learned how to punctuate.) Last night I was supposed to have dinner with Mirel.
I called her about 7 times and got no answer. Deep down inside I hope nothing bad happened or that some excuse is there to lay claim to her inability to return a call. But, I get the feeling that's not it at all. Strangely it's quite befitting for the month that I have had. I don't know what would bring this on. She sounded excited on Saturday. She sounded like she needed to talk and that having dinner with me was something that would make her happy. I know it was something that I was looking forward to.
All in all it was a rather tragic evening for me. I went out with people from work and drank Jameson and Waters at a rate that would scare any tame corporate American. On my way home all you could hear me whimper was, "I would never hurt her. I don't understand." And that's all I kept thinking.
My stomach is in knots. My arms and legs don't feel alive at all and there seems to a reservoir of emotion sitting behind my eyes and mouth. The New Year can't come fast enough.
UNCLE SPARKY - AKA Casey Stidham - AKA "Sparks" - has been added permanently to the role call list in the "People I know" portion of "Looking for Bret Holmes"
...also Michael O'Conner has been as well...but he didn't fuckin cry about it.
you keep saying, "if you don't agree with me...you are wrong..."
what's the dilemma here?
Umm - I don't know when I said that but I'm at sure at some point it seeped from my journal. So, "What's the dilemma?"...um. I don't have any dilemma and I don't know what kind of "dilemma" would come from that comment. I mean...if that's supposed to be an insightful question of greater proportions referring to my desire to flip flop on issues and yet still not respect people's opinions even if at one time I agreed with them. If it refers to that then I guess I can apologize...I don't know. Because well while I want to "muse us" I have no idea, really...what you are asking. Umm...yep
Chocolate and Dreams
I don't know what it is about eating chocolate before I go to bed but every time I eat it I seem to have the most vivid dreams. Last night I ate chocolate. Last night I had one of those dreams.
The dream was rather strange but so calming. It was Mirel and I. And it was all the conversation I've ever had about her with other girls and with my friends. Her face looked different but I knew it was her. Her face was some sort of conglomeration of different faces. It was very slender but still nurturing. I told her everything I had ever though and how I had reached bottom when it comes to understanding myself. I told her that the only thing that ever calmed me was her. And that I have never been better in my entire life than the time I have spent with her. I explained that I wouldn't pressure into anything romantic or intimate. All I wanted was her around. All I wanted was my mirror back.
You see, in her I see me. I'd say other than my mother/father, no other person has shaped me the way she has. She has affected the way I treat other women and she made me stronger than I ever planned to be. Just the though of having dinner with her over the past few weeks made me not want to drink/smoke/ and I cleaned my home just in anticipation that she might walk in. Sounds psycho huh? Well, too bad. It's honest. I respect what she thinks about me more than anyone I have ever known, mostly because she knew me better than anyone ever did, and more importantly because I love her.
The questions are, have I changed that much to not be allowed into her life? Have I become that corrupted and bankrupt that there is no room for me near her? Has she changed in the same ways? Can the very presence of her make me stronger?
I'll find out.
The dream was all about these things. I write them on here because I said them in the dream and I plan on saying them to her in the near future. I have no shame or curtain to hide behind with her. The dream also showed me stopping at so many house all with names of girls on them and I would knock and no one would answer. And then the slender faced Mirel would grab me under my arm and simply say, "Next one sweety. Next one."
You may ask why I write things like this knowing that she will read them. One, I have nothing to hide from her. Two, sometimes I don't always say what I mean or what I want to when she is there. Sometimes I get lost in her or create theories about where she stands and have cowardice towards my convictions. This was a nice little open field/air test for me.
I'm very nervous about seeing her.
Everything Reminds Me of Her
I never really had a problem
because of leaving
but everything reminds me of her
so if i seem a little out of it, sorry
but why should I lie?
everything reminds me of her
the spin of the earth impaled a silhouette of the sun on the steeple
and I gotta hear the same sermon all the time now from you people
why are you staring into outer space crying
just because you came across it and lost it?
everything reminds me of her
And the Starting Corporate Lineup Is...
These are my stereotypes for computer people around the industry. Welcome to my world. Jump in. The water is...linuxy.
"Moron Manager" has no idea what you do all day. She reads charts and schedules meetings. She does not have an advanced degree but has been with the company for so damn long that they can't fire her and she is too inept to give her a real job. So they put her in charge of what they already can't control; the tech team.
"Apple Guy" loves to ride mountain bikes and always ALWAYS has a girlfriend. I'm not saying the girlfriend is cool but he's always talking about shit like scuba diving and fuckin...orange picking in Florida. Apple Guy sucks.
Never Get Laid Dude
"Never Get Laid Dude" - Well the title says it all. He has acne. He's young and he makes no money because his skill sets are C++ and D+D online games. He doesn't go out for happy hour and lives with 3 other computer follies in an apartment in a cheap suburban neighborhood. Almost certainly drives a Saturn.
"The Suit" has some sort of upper level degree and always looks nice because he's either meeting with clients or the mistress. The suit will take you out boozing but make you feel bad about him picking up the tab. The Suit has no idea what you do all day but as long as the bottom line is ok he'll leave you alone. The Suit knows more about your job than you do. Never cross The Suit, learn from him.
Tech Marketing Grease Ball
The "Tech Marketing Grease Ball" is not in all companies. His role is to explain the viability of either your job to upper management or the product you are making to customers. He couldn't cut it in sales but more than likely he's someone's nephew. He always has "product" in his hair and more than certainly drives a BMW and dates a blonde.
Little Miss Pass the Buck
"Little Miss Pass the Buck" sucks at her job. She just graduated school with a pointless BIS degree and her main skill sets are typing, cruising the Internet, and HTML. She is worthless and when something goes wrong she is the first one to explain why it isn't her fault. Little Miss Pass the Buck sucks hardcore.
This is stereotypical but I'm here to share that every company has the "Amazin Asian". He's a whirlwind of a programmer and more than likely drives a motorcycle or some suped out whip and loves doing something crazy like airplane hopping. He's not much for conversation or favors but get on his good side and your job is that much easier. He always has a hot girlfriend because he makes more dough than everyone else except executives. Also substitutable there is "Intelligent Indian".
The IT Crew
"The IT Crew" can't be broken into parts because they themselves are pointless without one another. They have inside jokes and are extremely high strung. They are more than likely all married, and happily at that. They seem bitter and are extremely awkward to talk to.
The Motherfuckin Master
He doesn't look like much but "The Motherfuckin Master" will show you some shit that you never thought possible. You'll be sitting there with your dick in your hand whilst "The Motherfuckin Master" clangs on your keyboard like he's giving a massage to a thousand miniature men. And the shit will work and "The Motherfuckin Master" will disappear back into his cave only to be seen again when the signal goes up.
The Life Changer
He user to sell dope to kids. He went to a technical trade school. Found out plumbing sucked. He really likes video games and so he went to TESTT institute or Phoenix University and got himself a certificate that says he is entitled to make 45 grand a year. Say hello to "The Life Changer". The man who turned it all around as soon as he stopped smoking pot and working on his car.
Hipster Fuck Nose
"Hipster Fuck Nose" listens to a lot of techno music in his oversized headphones. He likes his job because he thinks he is really cool at it. Little does he know that his arrogance pisses off "The Suit" and "Moron Manager". You can find him at clubs or in his favorite online gaming room talking about the Reebok Classics he just purchased.
I'm Smarter Than You Are Guy
"I'm Smarter Than You Are Guy" is a fucking cock smoker. He doesn't help with problems and when he does you have to give him ten minutes or allow him "room to think". He never lets you forget how smart he is or how good he is at foosball or some other inane trick like juggling.
Weird Baldy Pony Tail Computer Person
There's always one stereotypical computer nerd. This is the guy that honestly admits to understanding and speaking Klingon. He loves to play Everquest in his time off and has a thing for anime porn. He has seen the Matrix 40 times and used the aliases Morpheus openly on corporate message boards.
Ole' Frumpy doesn't like anything very much since she left her second-rate local area college to study computers. She wears a ton of sweaters with collared shirts and Birkenstocks. Some people in the office think she's gay but you know that one night she's going to get rip roaring drunk and be all over the first guy that comes near her. You can usually find her eating by herself in the corporate cafeteria.
I Just Spit Out My Mountain Dew
I laugh so hard at strongbad that I can't even contain myself.
Watch this. You won't reget it - not for a minute...and then go and watch all 120 of them. That's right - - - this guy does one of these a week...I mean...that's fucking intense.
You know what I love sometimes? I love cougars. Old women in bars are the most likeable things in the world sometimes. I don't mean old like 50, I mean old like boring and depressed and unwed or divorced sitting at home on a Friday night with their vibrators. And when I say "their vibrator" I of course mean assortment. They are so confident and willing to degrate themselves in social settings. I believe that's what I like most about getting older. The lack of bullshit seems to diminish. Some people will say that the amount of bullshit gets even higher. Either those people don't know me or they themselves are waiting in line to kiss someone's ass. As you get older you stop being intimidated by people. You stop laying down your guns. There are no more dorks or jocks or cool kids. There's only crazy motherfuckers who lose in shuffleboard and then start throwing things. Anyway...back to cougars.
Cougars have that attitude towards young men. They think they can impress us with how sexually liberated they are. They think they can boss us around and pinch asses and say shit like, "I would fuck your brains out." I mean...I've slain a couple cougars in my day. But, to be honest there are always a ton, A TON, of problems that come with older women. I mean for one you have to assume that anyone over 30 has been permanently scarred by at least one lover or husband. You also have to assume that since they are single at 30, and I don't give a shit how many episodes of Friends you have watched, and how "totally awesome" you think Pheobe is, those women are slightly disturbed and in need of baby like care.
I guess the point I'm getting at is that watching 30+ women in bars after they get crushed is like watching porn. They start doing things that they haven't done in years and since they are older they no longer feel the need to inhibit themselves with reflections of other people's judgments. Hence, I guarantee you, if you ever hear at a full bar "Holy shit that girls showing her tits." Chances are "that girl" is a cougar.
Cheers to cougars!
Step Into My Cube Baby
The saddest fucking desk in the world has to be mine. Actually, I don't know. I mean what kind of desk would I rather have? Would I want one with troll dolls and pictures of my kids and fat wife? Would I want one that looks like I sleep there, with papers everywhere and old coffee cups and coke cans littered around? Would I want a desk that makes people think I'm a "super worker"? These "super worker" desks as I call them are plastered with awards from the office such as; "ROI GUY of the YEAR!", "TOP **ACME** ACHIEVER", "Project Complete and We Salute You!"
Anyway, on my desk I have the following:
1) Manuals - We have more manuals and white papers on how to do shit than anywhere I have ever seen. If you need to take a shit here, there's a goddamn manual for it. I guess that's what you get when you do enterprise solutions but these manuals don't do a goddamn thing. They never come in handy when you hit an issue.
2. Phone - If anyone has ever called here you know that the sound of my name in the company directory sounds like someone who has just euthanized his dog. It's a cool VoIP though. Which makes me feel guilt free about calling Korea during the day.
3. Styrofoam cups - Some people have stationary that they pick up from Office Depot. I have stationary that I get from the kitchen. Need a pen holder? Styrofoam cup is your answer. Need a place to put those paperclips? Go pick up the amazing styrofoam cup. Hey, you can even fill it up with water and then use it after you done.
4. Code on white boards - Now, I know a good few people out there that leave this shit up so that when the sales and marketing people come to hassle you then you can just turn towards your white board of logic problems and X's and Y's and .cfm's and XML and all this other shit and give a loud huff. In actuality, nothing really gets solved on the white board. It's just there to make you look fucking cool.
5. A clock - In front of me right now, without turning my head, I can see the time in 4, count them 4 places. Clocks are useless. They are tasteful but useless. In this world of digital computer crap plastic no-more fucking without a plastic bag of your body the last thing I need is some archaic tic tocker making noise all day.
6. Push board with code and business cards - The awful thing about business cards is that you keep them. I can't once think to myself that I needed to look for someone's contact info on a business card. Not once. I'll tell you the worst thing about the push board, and this also goes for the white board, is that if you don't change them from time to time then people start to think you aren't doing anything. So, what you need to do is jumble shit up every so often. The people will think you are busy as hell.
7. Stapler and tape - umm office supplies.
8. Mountain Dew - You see this is why I love working here. They have all the free food and beverages you can suck down. I must crush 30 mountain dews a week working here. I mean I absolutely smoke them one after the other in the morning. Some people drink coffee I drink yellow caffeine crusher that comes out of a green can and is as famous in North Carolina as the Ku Klux Klan (oh boy I'm getting googled on that one - doesn't matter).
9. Corporate Doo Hickey's - You know what I mean. They have the ball bearing magnet platforms with your company logo on it. They have bendable twisting things with your logo. They have slinkies with your logo and towels and jackets and condoms and mouse pads and toothpicks and mouthwash and mints. Oh fuck they do have mints. I have them...lol...
That's my desk. Let's all cry together.
I watched a seagull attack a man this morning. This rogue seagull came out of nowhere and flapped its wings in the man's face. I was more than 40 paces behind him but I could see what was going on. After the initial flap more birds came over to attempt to quell the frustrated shit heel bird. But the bird squawked and made darting motions towards his comrades. And back he went to hassle the man. This time the bird flew over the man's head and clipped the man with it's feet. The man fell. I chuckled.
Other birds now came to pick on the man. They circled him and puffed their wings while not in flight. They expanded themselves as if they were a cobra. This was a sight I had never seen. The man took his book bag and swung it around him like an enclosed soldier would swing his sword or axe when surrounded. The birds fluttered back and then closed. They fluttered back and closed for another 10 steps until the man took off running. He was sprinting down the harbor sidewalk and the birds followed him until he had reached the street.
I haven't been so puzzled and yet horribly amused in a long time.
As I walked behind in his footsteps I moved swiftly and without eye contact. Seagulls for some reason love to stare at you. When I walk by in the morning they will actually turn their head and follow you. But, this morning there would be no eyeballing between these only-for-a-moment birds of prey and myself. I did make a fake kick at one just to let them know I meant business.
So the other day I left work early. I was feeling really run down and just needed to go home and clean my house and my room and read a little. On the way home I caught a glimpse of myself in a window and noticed I had some sort of freak neck beard going on. I also noticed that my fading locks were looking straggly over the balding areas (back and top sides) so I decided to go for a trim.
I rolled into my local barbershop. No it wasn't the topless stripper one down the street that everyone in Federal Hill always talks about but never goes to. I go to the two Vietnamese women down the north side of Light Street. They always call me "friend" and we talk about where to get good Fuh (Fo) (Vietnamese noodles and beef) and Cafe Sau's (hardcore Vietnamese coffee...I mean cocaine coffee). So they cut my hair:
Woman: How you want cut?
Woman: Not too short because you know. Thin here.
Me: Don't care
Woman: I care.
Me: Ok then, hide the bald spots.
So after the cut, straight barber style with clippers and a bottle sprayer I still felt filthy. I said, "How bout a shave." - "You want shave. You got it. Just for you special customer."
And man I'm telling you if you ever get the chance to get a barbershop shave, I suggest you take it. I had never had one before but I am thinking about getting one every time I got to get my hair cut. The put this mentholated cream on your face covered by a hot towel. Then they take the towel off and put hot lather on you as you lay back, practically into their arms. There is something really intimate about a woman with a straight razor scraping right where you jugular is. You feel really vulnerable for about 5 seconds. Then when the shave is done they give you another hot towel, and then a cold towel followed by a facial massage.
I'm not a big massage guy. I'll go and get one in Vegas. But since I'm not into getting jerked off by poor old women I usually stay away from massage joints. Anyway it was awesome and I now call it the official Male Massage.
Saturday at the Ottobar
I've been vouching for them for a while, but Two if By Sea are playing the Ottobar this Saturday with Big in Japan. I'll be there...guess who else will be there...at least one fo you bastards. AT LEAST ONE! lol
SAT 18 Big in Japan and Two if By Sea and Stereograph
Doors at 9pm/ Show at 10pm- ALL AGES
You can get some Mp3's of TIBS here - I recommend The Affair (only 2 min though) but 100 days is the shit
That means Two if By Sea at 11ish and then Big in Japan at 12ish. So...come one come all...
Butcher/Sup Shop in Iowa - 7 degrees -6 p.m. Two story house with a neon Milwaukee's Best sign in the window.
Me: Hey man, what's up? (Blowing into my hands.)
Clerk: Help you?
Me: Umm yeah...what's good here.
Me: Everything huh? Well - you got cheesesteaks?
Clerk: You gots it
Me: Ok, well I'll have a cheesesteak with everything but Hots and Mayo - Extra cheese please.
Me: Umm - (very mild) everything but Hots and Mayo - Extra cheese please...
Clerk: You want tripe on that?
Clerk: (very mild) You want tripe in the sandwich or on the side?
Me: Ham and cheese is fine.
Clerk: What kind of beer you want? (pointing to the special "Monday - free beer with any sandwich")
Me: Bud Bottle is cool.
Me: Miller is fine.
Clerk: Ok - That'll be $2.70
Clerk: Yep, I'll wrap the tripe up for ya.
End of the Year Lists
Since the end of the year is now upon us it is time to rehash. Over the next week or so I'll be putting together some lists of top moments, top books, top movies, top other stuff (sex, booze, etc...), and today we'll start with my top albums for 2004. Enjoy if you like:
1. Ted Leo/Pharmacists, "Shake The Sheets" -:- This was a damn close perfectly realized album. Leo tightens up the tunes and outdoes last year's excellent album to produce something really mind-blowing. All Irish people are awesome. Or welsh or whatever he is...but they all make my kind of tunes.
2. Iron and Wine, "Our Endless Numbered Days" -:- There is always room for more Sam Beam. This album makes me wanna run around a field like a child. I think I did that after I bought it. I don't know if it runs along with Creek Drank the Cradle but man is it a close second.
3. Damien Rice, "O" -:- Ok so it's just the first 5 songs. But those first five songs will make you want to dance real slow in your room with a girl and the lights out. You'll just want to touch her neck and have her turn around while you hold her and sway. You'll want to make love to this album...well the first 5 songs anyway.
4. Black Keys, "Rubber Factory" -:- I can't say enough about this album. It never really goes far away from cd player because I like to dance like the little kid on top of the bed in "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" to it.
5. Modest Mouse, "Good News for People who Like Bad News" -:- Yeah, I know it's trendy. Yeah I know...you own it. Yeah so what...Float On deserver to be a pop anthem and Modest Mouse finally deserved some recognition.
6. Franz Ferdinand, "Franz Ferdinand" -:- Umm...well I guess you could replace that name with The Killers or The Futureheads. I mean happy go poppy is sometimes my jaunt and this is about as happy as go poppy as it gets. What I really love about the album is that the song I love "Darkness of the Matinee" is about the only song that wasn't released as a single.
7. Garden State Soundtrack -:- Yes, this is the best soundtrack I have seen since Big Lebowski. Every song makes sense and everything about that movie is what being fucking 25 is like. EVERYTHING!
8. Fiery Furnaces, "Blueberry Boat" -:- It's weird but it's what was needed. I really can't give this spot fully to them because I was listening Sung Tongs at the same time...so I guess they share the spot.
9. Say Hi to Your Mom, "Numbers and Mumbles" -:- "Who? Oh come on dude...you're reachin now." NO I'M NOT! This has a few amazing fucking songs on it. Some of them are yes, well quite amateurish but this sounds like Weezer and Coldplay got together and smoked a lot og pot and grew up in Ohio.
10. Mates of State, "Team Boo" -:- Hey, do you like pop? I mean do you like husband and wife goofy pop? Do you like good music? Well you know what...you should check out this band.
11. !!!, "Louden Up Now" -:- yeah that's pronounced chick chick chick..but her eint he computer world we say, "bang, bang, bang" Anyway...this is another artsy fartsy album that I really liked. I liked it because it sounds like Sigur Ros if they were playing with a kitchen..oh and if the guy from Sigur Ros wasn't singing because he is unreal.
12. Morissey, "You are the Quary" -:- It was suitable and at the time of it's release in April, it was exactly what I needed. It was angry, political, and yet so very Morissey. Like your sickly uncle came over to tell you how rotten everything is as a bed time story.
13. Wilco, "Ghost is born" -:- It should just be in here...I would feel bad if it wasn't.
Feel free to make these lists yourself. I find that they really help rehash the year. Cheers...
In More Detailed Response
A real look at me: Well I guess I have been wanting to do this since I saw it on Oliver's page. Ain't nobody out there looking for my ass. But, at the same time, I sort of want to rehash. So hereeeee.....we go. Oh and I wanted to legitimately answer ole 'Anonymous' in Iowa up there.
Who are you? I am Bret Matthew Scharf Holmes? Well...umm...I can't describe me really. You are better off asking someone else because I have some weird views of myself. Girls describe me different than guys do and people who know me describe me way different than people who don't. So...you are more likely to get a better answer from them. I think (think) that I am the following:
What do I want? - Um I want the spark. I want to be turned on every moment in my life. That's why I chase drama. I don't like routines and I don't like apathy. Since I get mildly depressed from time to time that seems to work against me because it spirals. But hell, who doesn't get salty?
Anyway, professionally...what do I want to do? Umm..I used to say , "Change the way people learn.". Currently I like music and I like to write. Neither of which I can do well or even not at all. So...I'm always around music and books. I don't consider myself an aficionado but I read and listen to my share. Computers seem to be what I am sorta good at but so is everyone. I have to use my creative skills in this field to develop something. First I have to get my energy back. Second I have to retain focus. Third, I have to make the right moves. I feel as though I have aligned myself to be able to make moves. The lacking aspect is the idea and the focus. I'm working on that.
What do I want personally? Well...I would like to have a family. But most importantly I want a shell. I want a bubble where just and someone else can be and not need anything. I don't need a village to raise me. I just need someone to believe in and believe in me back. I'm not a big personal guy. Most people around me know that I take care of them before I take care of myself. Well...most people I guess know that. Some may disagree but fuck them.
The weird thing about this description is that if you asked me a year ago it would have been totally different. Well maybe not totally but different. And, if you ask me a month from now, it will be different again. I'm not a wizard. I don't have answers. I feel things. I put them into sweet metaphors. I make people laugh and cry and I laugh and cry just as much as they do. So...that's me.
Looking for Bret Holmes?
Schools I have attended: Chapel Hill Elementary School, Parkville Middle School, Golden Ring Middle School, Calvert Hall College, George Mason University, Villa Julie College.
Places I have lived: Rosedale (MD), Fairfax (VA), Owings Mills (MD), Seoul (Korea), Federal Hill (MD)
Places I have worked: Grasmick Lumber, Office Depot, CompUSA, Integrated Health Services, Black and Decker corporate, Mom.com, Advertising.com, Bionicbox.com, Catalyst Solutions, ECC Korea, AmericanWeddings.net, **ACME Learning Company** (no dice there - - I say some raunchy stuff on here sometimes no need to leave another cookie crumb)
Jobs I have had: Laborer, Retail Sales, Network Engineer, Web Developer, Back End Web Developer, Web Development Teacher, English Teacher, Tech Consultant
People I know or have known (lord - chronologically - this could be bad): Matt Roberson, Angelo Cosentino, Nick Hammonds, Josh Vandenhagel, Marco Rodriguez, Vickie Delpizo, Kim Jenkins, Mike Witzack, Eric Matthews, Natalie Rayner, Scott Naehring, Jimmy Finn, Deborah Doorman, Laurie Clarkson, Steve Shields, John Foley, Paul Zuck, Craig Peregoy, Dan Jennings, Duval Tejani, Jeff Brazier, Chris Willis, Jake Ermer, Mickey Fitz, Leaf Bardstad, Krista Wainwright, Toby Wainwright, Teddy Wainwright, Steve Waltermyer, Kevin Addison, Daren Larouqe, Ryan Tolson, Chris Davis, Mike Jenkins, Shane Rhodes, Adam McKenzie, Mike Ey, Ryan Grue, Sean Fisher, Brad Sunshine, John Mull, Chris Zorn, Jimmy Dunn, Jeff Levin, Blake Miller, Auther Casserdly, Randy Hohenstein, Rob Stastny, John Geraghty, Chris Pasko, Ronnie Saba, Jason Sands, Ryan Dean, Ron Holowinski, Matt Shrueffer, Tony Templon, Eric Dories, Dina Bernadelli, Kelly Bennett, Roxanne Huemmer, Kelly Kemp, Kelly George, Eric Slider, Adam Gum, Dave Holter, Dan Marquette, Chuck Pindell, Jackie Rexrode, Jason Bungori, Tony Coyne, Drew Borland, Joey Popovich, Jeff Brooks, Matt Conen, Yani Rosenburg, Eric Baquel, Mike Waldt, Kristen Waldt, Greb Deboy, Justin Nash, ***This is frying my fucking brain. I don't want to forget anyone.***, Dale Berkey, Cindy Farmer, Jeff Comoto, Joe Chromo, Dan Martin, Sara Gurlach, Mitch Bowers, Dave Disney, Amy McClung, Mike Harp, Mirel Aktalay, Robin Davis, Mike Williams, Matt Carter, Eric Watts, John Nichols, Casey Stidham, Mike O'Conner, Blake Ulam, Andy Welling, Mike Kowalewski, Brock Jordan, Darrick Muchla, Justin McKeever, Brian Shepley, Meghan Rodriquez, Beckie Winslow, Cynthia Chase, Theresa Levin, Lauren Merman, Angela Cummings, Stacy Showan, Jessica Showan, Rob Martini, Scott Murray, Scott Kosmicki, Matt Hewitt, Douglas Atwell, Tim Boucher, Mike Oliver, Colin Sellar, Farah Arsaran, Jenni Queen, Jen Kennedy, Mary Kay Lemay, Floyd Patterson, Mark Goldbloom, Chris Styles, John Williams, Mark Hopkins, Greg Leary, Lee Su Yeon, Lee Sang Wan, Song Jai Ton, Lee Ju Yun, Keith Mack,Mark Hagemon, Dan Hughes, Ryan Heath, Jasika Sebkarshad....
Places I have frequented: Lee's Billiards, Steve's house (lol), Cassie's house (lol), Kopaijcek's House (lol), Mic O'sheas, Turners, Bayou Blues, Calladaghs, Power Plant Live (oh that's right), Paloma's, 1722, Club Charles, Ottobar, Horse You Came in On, Good + Bar (Korea), Red Joker (Korea), Dongdaemun (Korea), Spike and Charlies, Joun Gak, Mr K's (DC), Aldo's, Boccacio's
Things I do or did: baseball, outfield, soccer, fullback, captain, trumpet, capitalism clob of Korea, web development, write, Poker, balck jack, womanize, drink Jameson.
Thing I have been a part of: Yankee Rebel Baseball, General Die Baseball, Computer Science Club of Maryland, American Red Cross, Sometimes You Gotta Race
People I am looking for: Jason Sands, Duval Tejani, Mickey Fitz - - others i cant remember
Ok so if you read that and you aren't on the list or whatever...man don't get mad...I did this in about 15 minutes...so you know...I've met a ton of the people in the last year but I didn't put them on there. That and I'm getting foggy in my old age.
Well, Anonymous, umm...who am I? I guess I'm screwy. I guess I'm a little lost. I'm a pretty passionate person and that sort of makes me flip flop all the time on what I want and what I don't want. I long for things, covet them, and then when I lose them or don't get them, I become attached to them. I become attached to them like Ahab and the white whale. I don't really know if I can answer you. I guess, since I am really bipolar within my approach to most things you can just say that I'm really strange, passionate, moody, oddly intelligent, and enjoy a damn good time. Yep...there you go.
Conversation From Mother's at 1 a.m.
..::Attractive Asian Girl at Local Bar::..
Girl:I heard you lived in Thailand for a while.
Me: Who the hell told you that?
Me:Oh...wait...we've met before right?
Me:Wait, did you go to Villa Julie?
Girl:What the fuck?
Me:What do you mean "What the fuck"? You went to VJC right?
..::Girl walks away::..
..::Girl walks back::..
Me:Hey...you again..What the fuck is wrong with you?
Girl:Bret! I can't believe you. What? **name** My name is **name**.
Me:Right...so what's wrong with you?
Girl:BRET! We slept together for about a month my Sophomore year.
Me:Holy shit...hey how are you?
Beat Out My Blood
I am venom. I am put into veins to cause the same look of me to come into you. I have taken fingers of finest porcelain and turned them to yellow nubs scored with permanent cigarette ash. I touch. I wither. I call upon all things known to me to allow for nothing more than awe. A gaping hole is all that I have to understand about the world.
I watched them dance. They swung from each other like monkeys attempting to wear neckties. They threw hair back and looked around. They made posturing approaches to show that the time was in front of them. MY BRAIN BURNS FROM YOU! I screamed across the room and it fell off into an echo. The music stopped. A girl walked by, touched my arm and said, "Come with me."
When did you come into my life and allow poison to be my name? When did I slouch into a chair? Always. Always I did. You can dream bigger and you can laugh louder but you will always be the little boy that didnt want to be called on. You will always be the man that was good in the barracks but dead in the courtroom. You will die here.
Stomach turns a little as I make up another story. Stomach boils as I decide between women and directions and versions of my life. Head takes a wicked turn towards sobriety in the face of clouded lives. I have no want for anything around me. I am not moved by anyone I talk to. I have not laughed in months. I have not seen anything worth wanting. I will fool all of you because I can. I fool people to allow myself room to breathe. I trick them and run my own entertainment up their flagpole. I can make anyone love me. I can bring back all the planets into alignment. I am venom.
Kids fingerprints on the porn? Aww man.... man. What now? I mean they 1984 us and go house to house taking back Thriller and Bad? Are people in Kansas going to be breaking juke boxes when Billy Jean comes on? The trial is going to be a show.
Michael no....not the porn....not the kids.
Sunday Morning Call
here's another sunday morning call
you hear your head banging on the door
slip your shoes on and then out you crawl
into a day that couldn't give you more
but what for?
in your head do you feel
what your not supposed to feel
and you take what you want
but you don't get it for free
you need more time
because your thoughts and words won't last forever more
but i'm not sure if it'll ever work out right
but it's ok
when your lonely and you start to hear
the little voices in your head at night
you will only snip away the tears
so you can dance until the morning light
at what price?
Contracts and The Devil
Now I know my lawyer friends won't really raise an eyebrow at this but this blew me away today. (wait...you know what our club/team/squad needs? A fucking Doctor!) Anyway...I accidently got CC'd a reply from a customer talking about the bill we sent them and I saw the bill.
Basically I did about 40 minutes of XML work and these poor bastards got billed a full day of service at a clip of...ready for this...?
!!!!$5800!!!! Yeah...I really need to start my own company.
X: Who the hell is that with **** ?
Me: Umm...who cares?
X: She's fucking hot.
X: What the fuck? You don't think she's hot?
X: Why? Because she's not foreign or ethnic.
X: Why then?
Me: Because you think she's hot.
..::PAUSE AND BATHROOM BREAK::..
X: So you lost that girl huh?
Me: I think you have to have something before you lose it.
X: You didn't have her?
Me: I don't think so.
X: So who does?
Me: Some guy.
X: You're offly short tonight.
Me: I don't like you all that much.
..::PAUSE AND EYE BROW RAISING::..
Me: Couldn't you gather that impression by our last conversation?
X: I just thought you were being a dick.
X: But you're always a dick
Me: Yeah, to you
X: Nope...you're pretty much a dick to everyone.
..::PAUSE AND COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS::..
Me: No I'm not.
X: Who doesn't think your a dick?
Me: She doesn't
Guy: How you doin man?
Me: I'm alright I guess. Just sort of broke up with what may or may not have been a girlfriend, ate some food, then had a dream about some stuff, talked to this girl, and now I'm here.
Guy: Right...I read your blog the other day, **** sent me the link.
Me: Oh no shit...what did you think?
Guy: I think you are about one step away from slicing your ear off.
Me: Nice Good Will Hunting quote...or do you really like Van Gogh...or both? Anyway...self-mutilation is an affirming experience. I mean look at tattoos. Whose to say losing an ear isn't the same as getting pierced? I mean you lose some functionality but mainly...it's the same.
Guy: Right...don't be cute. Sit down.
Me: Okey dokey...
Guy: Do you know why you hate so many things?
Me: Oh fuck. Come on man. I beat myself up enough. I don't need to be psychoanalyzed by "4 beers deep, smarter than me" guy.
Guy: You hate yourself more than any of those things. And it's your way of making your environment balanced. You hate everything just like you hate yourself and then everything evens out and you can just walk through in a big ball of hate.
Me: That's not bad. But to be honest...fuck you.
Me: See what...me saying fuck you doesn't have anything to do with your theory dipshit. And I don't hate everything. I like ducks.
Guy: You hate you though
Me: What did you want to be when you grew up?
Guy: What? Umm...a scientist.
Me: How did that work out? Oh....right....it didn't
Me: I wanted to be my dad. But...you see...the idea of a scientist never really changes. White coats, pencils, equations on the wall, beakers...all that shit. That image is all still there today. But my Dad became nothing. He regressed to nothing.
Guy: I see.
Me: I see...that you suck.
Me: This is Bret
You: So...what's wrong?
Me: What? What does that mean? Who starts off a conversation with "What's Wrong?"?
You: I do. Now what's wrong?
Me: A lot of shit I guess. But mainly, I guess I'm sort of wrong. Umm...but so is everyone.
You: Took the words from me.
Me: Beat you to it huh?
You: So give me specifics.
Me: You know...normal crap problems; job sucks, debt, too much booze, cigarettes, poor social behavior, womanizing. I could get deeper if you want.
You: No, you can shut up now.
You: We can get through all that. Together, you and I can extinguish all that.
Me: Ok. Hey, remember to say goodbye before you leave this walking dream.
You: I'll pinch you.
Quotes I'm Feelin...
piss upwards on people."
sidenote* - I feel like i'm writing well when I feel at my worst or my best. That's how I like life...awful or awesome. And there's not much difference, chemically, and artistically between the two.
I was alluding to this earlier with Jas about how I cn't have small talk. I like to do shit and live shit a good bit. I don't ever sit around and what to hear about someone's day. I want to make dreams come true or nightmares a reality. There is no space in my life for ordinary shit.
"There is an old illusion, which is called good and evil."
Rules of Disengagement
Ok so these are the rules right? And this is how it goes - - -?
1. We break up
2. We don't talk
3. You come get your shit
4. I fuck the first thing that moves and vice versa
5. We still don't talk
6. We run into each 4 months from now and we both lie and say we are doing wonderful
Ok that's how it's supposed to go. So someone tell me...why was I online today talking with Jas for about 5 hours? 5 FUCKING hours! And all we did was talk...well we made fun of each other and said awful shit about people we have fucked in the past and then I started talking about shit that I knew would make her angry and she caught onto that and said stuff like, "You suck" and then we laughed. Ahh like old times. I think her and I will be really good online friends for a while. I don't think we can be friends in real life...because you just don't hang around girl's and their boyfriends once you've slept with them. There's an unwritten rule somewhere about that...unless you married that person or with them for more than 2 years. Then I guess you can come hang out...but 3 months...nah I don't get hand out privileges.
The Sweetest Sound I Have Heard in Forever
My old girlfriend, Mirel, has the sweetest voice I have ever heard. Its kind of high and flighty but at the same time motherly and stern. She says things like, "Keep your head up" and "Please call me" and "Pick up after yourself". She says those things to me. She says them to me and means it. She lets herself be a mom and a sister and an ex-love because she's honest.
Fuckin true blue.
I swear when I heard her voice mail this morning I rolled over and smiled like I haven't smiled in months. I shook my head the way I always do and sat there in awe. I sat there in that present state I have been able to live in lately.
I just love the little things. Big shit doesn't impress me at all.
I love the way people hold a fork or pick songs on a juke box. I love the way they tell a story or make a bet. I adore watching someone look over a menue or drive a car.
And at that moment, on this day, at that orbital alignment her voice was the most perfect thing I had ever realized to exist. I was in awe of a sound. I was in awe of the chirping of her mouth letting me know that she was still around and that I didn't have to worry. I didn't have to worry because my angel personified was still around to guard me. She was still around to touch my forehead and hold my hand. She always let's me know that it's ok to be fragile and that somebody loves me. She does that just by being her. She does it just by moving her lips and letting me know that I'm loved by someone and it's for all the right reasons. I'm here on this planet just to listen to that voice. I would follow that sound down any hallway and through any cavern. Nothing could possibly stop the siren of her body from fading from my mind.
Hangovers, Old Age, New Pussy
If you're smart you drink water and take 2 Advil before you go to bed. If you were smart you wouldn't have gone out and boozed up at all. If you were smart you wouldn't have taken that girl home because you could have gotten 2 more hours of sleep. If you were smart you would have just stayed in and read the Bible. But alas, you are a male. And alas you are sometimes in pain and the only ease of that pain is booze and easy pussy.
So you wake up.
You are 25. Your eyes hurt now that you are older. You get headaches now that you are older. You have to drink water and Mountain Dew to stop the shakes. You have to check your hairline in the mirror. You have to really scrub your face and body hard to not smell like booze all day. You attempt to squeeze your widening ass into a pair of jeans. You have to exchange warm remarks and yet still shuffle the hussy out of your house in time to get to work. You have to dodge your boss all morning. You have to eat breakfast. You have to shit. You have to hide your booze habits in social engagements. You have to make excuses to why you smell and look like crap. You ignore phone calls from the girl you just had your dick in and from your friends who missed last night and who tonight want to go out and booze their face off.
You are 20. You bounce out of bed and head to class. You maybe grab a bit to eat as you run out the door of your unlocked domicile sort of waving goodbye to the slam pig you brought home. Put your hair anyway you want it because you are a fucking star. You throw on whatever lays on the floor and a smart t-shirt. You stroll into any social engagement bragging about your booze prowess. You have a rock hard cock for most of the day and as you putter around from starlight station to starlight station you manage to align a new piece of ass and yet another engagement for boozing that night.
I'm a fucking star.
If you're alive you booze and celebrate. You cry and laugh and scream and smile. You huddle together like a football team that has no more plays to call. They only stand in a pack rehashing old glory plays. But there is a game young man. There is a game to be played all around you.
Where are the rules?
When is it halftime?
Where are the fucking cheerleaders?
Where are the cheerleaders that I used to fuck?
Why are they all fat and annoying now with Misty 100's hanging out of their mouth and really bad dye jobs?
Where is the coach?
Why did he abandon our team and leave us without a stadium or a uniform?
Why the fuck do I care?
You shouldn't care. Do you know why? First off you are a human being. That in itself pretty much means you are indestructible if you want to be. Second, you have a soul. And that my friend allows you to booze all you want on a Thursday. That allows you to take home and fuck anyone you want. That allows you to miss old girlfriends. That allows you to be 20 any goddamn time you want to. Just with less hair.
Awwww we're friends
It was bound to happen. Jas and I make better friends than lovers. But we talked all day and even shared a joke and some cute memories and agreed that we probably won't see each other ever again but thanks to the Internet we can still be communicable, which is nice. I love the idea of her being around because she is pure drama and everyone needs that one crazy friend. Everyone needs that one crazy girl that flips out at everything and always has advice for you. Especially when she knows you intimitally she can be persuasuve. The only thing that worries me about this break up is that Jas knows things about me...and man if I cross the line...she'll use that info as bullets. Bullets of pain...hmm...I trust her though...
Anyway...today was a pretty good day. I no longer have to carry the burden of frustration and jealousy around with me that came from being with her. And she got to return to the man she loves. I mean...it's not ideal...for me anyway...but I care about Jas...and it's nice to know that she's smiling and I actually feel pretty shitty but in a good way. In a relief way...like...my crippled uncle is finally dead way. Guilty about the feeling, remorseful...but relieved.
Ok Who Wants to Laugh at Bret????
Anybody out there that wants to get there digs on me. Here is your chance. Ok so we know that I have been hanging out with Jasika for the past couple months. And love and blah blah blah and this and that and this and that. Well...things didn't work out and she got back together with her old boyfriend and we all move on etc...
Ok so anyway..during this time...we professed love and hung out and did some stuff...but here is her Blog. And MAN I"M NOT EVEN IN IT! Now she says its because she wanted her ex-boyfriend to find it...but hell that says enough right there.
So basically...ladies and germs...i have been living like a fucking schnook for the past few months. I have been made the biggest sucker of my life...but you know what? I wouldn't have traded it for anything. She's a wonderful girl and I hope she'll be happy. I love her to pieces because she IS pure life. But JESUS was this a kick to the old marbles....
LOL - - Love SCHARF .... SCHARF IS FUCKING BACK! WHO WANTS A GODDAMN DRINK? I"M FUCKIN BUYIN! Gentlemen I'm gonna fuck everything in Baltimore this weekend! mwhahahahaha....
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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