Sometimes I think that people are following me. It's because I'm a natural leader--unless we're discussing a post-apocalypse where a band of scientists would follow me to Mexico, because I get lost.
I get LOST, that's for sure. The structure and the writing makes the aspiring writer in me want to cry. Sawyer, for god sake! A lot of other people my age like lost. Some people older or younger than me like lost, too. When I am taking questionnaires out of people's hands, it's a lot easier if I can relate to them. A typical conversation runs something like this:
"I like LOST, also."
"Excuse me," they often say. Or, "Me, too. I enjoy mass-market cultural memes that riff slightly on philosophy, literature, and the primacy of man."
"What are you listening to," I then say.
My camera is dead, but it has a movie camera and sometimes I take web video commentaries after watching episodes. Because I curse and don't wear pants, and because they are inevitably shot with my vintage Nazi Swastika flag, these videos are taken down by the web2.0 community.
I also wear a bondage mask, but "not because I like it". It's a statement.
Gary is an unusual name for a girl, but it's not strange at all. I met her on the 3rd St. promenade whilst observing up-and-coming soul singers with their guitars try to make a buck. As a blogger, I do not feel the need to donate. If they are good, I I feel the need not to donate. Inactivity is the defining characteristic of our generation. If we lived in England or Morocco or Sweden, we would not be inactive. We would have awesome accents and live with our parents in a government owned condominium, making y**tube commentaries behind our Nazi Swastika flags. Ha, Parents--they just don't understand!
Gary was listening to Maroon 5. It is her favorite band. Unfortunately, it is not my favorite band. My favorite band is up-and-coming. Is it wrong to want to listen to something different?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Masking the taste of Duct Tape
Have you ever tried to watch a dramatic movie after just watching a suspense thriller like "The Piano" or "Suburbia"? Do you know the feeling you get just watching two retards in love stumbling down the street at noon and you realize all along you've been waiting for a hot dog van to screech up next to them and kidnap retard #2? Am I all alone in this?
I think I am.
I thought I was. Until last night, walking through downtown Los Angeles, where everyone has an angle. On Los Angeles street at 4th, a woman I imagine has done her fair share of whoring was yelling obscenties violently. At 5th st, facing the woman across an entire deserted block, a man was screaming back. Whatever they had taken had gone straight to their sense of hearing, because while they were taking part in what appeared to be an involved conversation, at no point was I able to hear both participants. Nonetheless, inspiration springs from such goings on about town.
Instead of asking the man to fill out a questionnaire, I moseyed one block up to Main St in search of cultural relevance. I found some in front of Pete's Cafe and Bar (4th and Main), where Jayden was smoking a cigarette and staring down all passerby. She looked about 25, but put down 26. I told her she looked like she was 24. "Thank you," she said.
You can tell a lot about a person by the music they listen to; if you're not paying attention, this is the general point of this "blog". The interesting thing about some hipsters is that you can usually tell more about a hipster by the music they don't listen to. Extra insight can come because of music a hipster doesn't listen to, but actively hates anyway. Like Dave Matthews Band. I wish I was a hipster. Secretly, I think Jayden does to, because she is totes not hip. If anything, she reads like a post-grad, post-HS sk8r chic.
"Do you have any tattoos," I asked her.
She said yes.
We got to talking about the cultural aesthetic of tattoos, and postmodern takes on the irony of having them, and then finally the resultant swirl of irony based on irony based on that time that you had 10,000 spoons when you needed a knife. If it was a very uninteresting conversation to recount even minutes after it had happened, but that's kind of how every conversation is when the person you're talking to places albums by Presidents of the United States (not the one with Kitty and Peaches), Coheed & Cambria, Method Man, and Less than Jake in their top 5 album spots.
I wonder if I am passing up true love in the interest of recording musical tastes.
I think I am.
I thought I was. Until last night, walking through downtown Los Angeles, where everyone has an angle. On Los Angeles street at 4th, a woman I imagine has done her fair share of whoring was yelling obscenties violently. At 5th st, facing the woman across an entire deserted block, a man was screaming back. Whatever they had taken had gone straight to their sense of hearing, because while they were taking part in what appeared to be an involved conversation, at no point was I able to hear both participants. Nonetheless, inspiration springs from such goings on about town.
Instead of asking the man to fill out a questionnaire, I moseyed one block up to Main St in search of cultural relevance. I found some in front of Pete's Cafe and Bar (4th and Main), where Jayden was smoking a cigarette and staring down all passerby. She looked about 25, but put down 26. I told her she looked like she was 24. "Thank you," she said.
You can tell a lot about a person by the music they listen to; if you're not paying attention, this is the general point of this "blog". The interesting thing about some hipsters is that you can usually tell more about a hipster by the music they don't listen to. Extra insight can come because of music a hipster doesn't listen to, but actively hates anyway. Like Dave Matthews Band. I wish I was a hipster. Secretly, I think Jayden does to, because she is totes not hip. If anything, she reads like a post-grad, post-HS sk8r chic.
"Do you have any tattoos," I asked her.
She said yes.
We got to talking about the cultural aesthetic of tattoos, and postmodern takes on the irony of having them, and then finally the resultant swirl of irony based on irony based on that time that you had 10,000 spoons when you needed a knife. If it was a very uninteresting conversation to recount even minutes after it had happened, but that's kind of how every conversation is when the person you're talking to places albums by Presidents of the United States (not the one with Kitty and Peaches), Coheed & Cambria, Method Man, and Less than Jake in their top 5 album spots.
I wonder if I am passing up true love in the interest of recording musical tastes.
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