[	mood	|	Makin' rounds and takin' names	]
[	music	|	Hawkwind - Lord of Light	]

• Laura's coming back this weekend!  Geez, I miss her so much, but she's having a helluva time in Joorup.  I'm positively giddy with anticipation.
  
• I'm jobless and so unGodly poor, but content. I think I have 20 dollars to my name, or something along those meager lines.  It's all good though, I've been downloading music like a fiend and with all my newfound freetime, I've been catching up with mah high school batchmates, drumming, and classically guitaring. :And I'm/lost in confusions/'cause my things are material: for any Love pundits out there.
• Me and mah good friend Matt Stumpf are starting a purist krautrock band.  How's Realpolitik for a band name?  Get it?  It rhymes with "motorik"!  Yuk yuk.
• Laura's coming back this weekend!
• LAURA'S COMING BACK THIS WEEKEND!!!

[	mood	|	well-received!	]
[	music	|	Gorguts - Rapturous Grief	]

"My name is Nixon.  I am a tax collector."

[	mood	|	hella lazy, yo	]
[	music	|	CAN - Bel Air	]

I typed "Straight Dope" into images.google.com and got this:

Striaght fuckin' dope.

I think Future Days may be my favorite CAN album.  Yup.  Mmhmm.

[	mood	|	Yea, jiggah	]
[	music	|	Slint - Nosferatu	]

My God, Slint was absolutely mindblowing.

Openned with For Dinner... and closed with Good Morning Captain.  Between those, I think they may have gone through their entire catalogue.  An entire career's worth of material spanned in 90 minutes?  Yes, it's not a lot of material but each song was honed down to a fucking needle point.  McMahan said they didn't make many songs, but they practiced the fuck out of the ones they did have.  That explains their mathematical precision.

I really need to get my hands on Tweez, seeing as Spiderland has been one of my best friends for some time.  One song they played off of Tweez sounded uncharacteristically bluesy, and between phrase changes the geetarista and bassist tuned to drop D and back again.  Beat frequencies are always a nice touch.

I'm still recovering from the unrelentingly awesome wall of noise that is Slint.  Damn, what a memorable experience.

"So are we as good as the Slint tribute band?"

[	mood	|	Deadpan	]
[	music	|	Talk Talk - After the Flood	]

Geez Louise! It's Friday night, and I'm at my computer.

It wasn't like that all night, though; not completely devoid of human interaction.  Shot the breeze with some kiddies in the ol' Bullock Hall and chilled with mah bud Ryan (birthday boy is 20 today.  whOa.) then hit up a hookah party at Johnson.  Unfortunately, it seems I'm still recuperatinng from the flu and rather than get kiffed and get incapacitated for another week, I held my breath then retired.  (shrug)

And here we are, you and I...

Oh Talk Talk, how you can never get your fill of fine Chinese cuisine.  Mark Hollis, your eyes just scream "I'm an enigma, BITCHUZ."

Yao Ming?

[	mood	|	Oof...	]
[	music	|	Cecil Taylor - Unit Structures	]

• Extended converstation with Bart about Bruce Haack
• Exchanging racist jokes with Dave.  Three cheers for latent xenophobia manifested in 'innocent' jokes!
• Mark Danzig being Mark Danzig (never disappoints)
• Argument with Blau and Jay about the value of PitchforkMedia/RichdorkMedia.  Why?  Why do they [PF] have to intellectualize/categorize everything?
• Eating dried sweet corn.  Mmmm.
• Drinking 4 shots of  Zarkov in 90 seconds.  Oof.
  

[	mood	|	nyquilly	]
[	music	|	United States of America - American Metaphyiscal Circus	]

Last night...I went to IWPS with Danny, Larrisa, and Phil (you know?!  of Clark University Slam Team fame?!).  It could've been one of the most inspiring events I have ever attended.  There were guys from all over the country cuttin' some serious poem.  It was actually quite overwhelming, 40 3-2 minute snapshots of 20 people's souls.  Man, these guys were honest, passionate, inspired, articulate, and intense as shit.  There was this one guy who did this poem about music, and how God must have really good taste in music since all the greats die young.  There were two poems for me that really hit home hard.  One was by a man named Corbett.  It was about his experiences as a cop in Pheonix and one case of a girl named Odessa, terribly abused by her drug casualty mother.  It was sad, frustrating, shocking, but never needlessly cruel.  Ultimately, it was a very hopeful poem.  It was so honest and beautiful.

The other was by this cat named Joaquim.  I honestly cannot describe it in words.  It just seared itself into my mind with it's sheer beauty and sadness.

My mind was completely shot during the drive home.  I must've made 3 left turns where left turns should not have been made.  Whoops.

But let me end on a note of unshackled awesomeness:

God, what a nightmarish picture.  I would hate to have lunch with this man.

[	mood	|	accomplished!	]
[	music	|	Silver Apples - Misty Mountain	]

WASSUP YO

[	mood	|	semi-sweet	]
[	music	|	Cluster - Rotor	]

Going into Boston with Laoora tonight.  Record shopping, a concert, and perhaps a dinner in Chinatown?  Or da supa 88 AZN f00d connektion on Commonwealth?!

Might be going NYC with the ol' CPC for a battle (on the night before Slint.  oof.).  Watch the glide, watch the glide:

<The Control Panel controls the channels>

[	mood	|	schoolgirlie	]
[	music	|	Klaus Nomi - Keys of Life	]

Slam Show went off without a hitch.  It was a great turnout and even better response (Standing O.  wathup, gurl, how yoo dooin...).  There must've been at least a hundred people there yelling and screaming for more and more slamma jamma.  Insatiable beasts, I say!  Talking with people after the show, turns out we touched and inspired a lot of people (sounds corny, but hey, true story).  That's just fucking inspiring to hear that!  Seriously, no shih-in.  I've always believed it's an artist's/performer's (fuck that whole artists-can't-say-they're-artists shit.  i am an arteest) duty to impart an appreciation of beauty to his audience.  Pretentious, you say?  I can't front.  Oh wait.  Fuck you.  Just kidding.  I  trust and love all readers of this journal...

[does he?]

In other news, I will never read All Is Number again.  Time to get back to work on another poem.

Bill Griffith is infallable.  I picked up an issue of YOW comics (reprint of a 1978 printing) from That's Entertainment for a mere 50 cents.  It fucks me up how Zippy, an originally underground comic about the exploits of an acid casualty, has become a nationally syndicated comic.  Read For Better Or For Worse, read Zippy; family fun --> cryptic hallucinogen inspired surrealism.  All on the same page.  God bless America.

Puzzle color indicates skill level.