February 16, 2011
So I had a pretty spiritual experience this weekend listening to this Earth song featuring Kurt Cobain vocals.
Kurt Cobain’s massive popularity and subsequent martyrdom has made him a pretty mythological figure uh no duh doi. So let’s all act like we’re 13 again and only like things that Kurt likes.
1. The movie Over the Edge.
Hey Matt Dillon. Hey that ubiquitous 90s DIY phrase A KID WHO TELLS ON ANOTHER KID IS A DEAD KID.
3. Allegedly, Beat Happening was one of Kurt’s favorite bands. And while we’re talking allegations, a friend told me that Henry Rollins once punch Calvin Johnson in the junk. Same players, different allegation: Apparently Calvin Johnson also said that Beat Happening is way punker than Black Flag. Discuss.
5. The Raincoats, which anyone who grew up in a small town and obsessively read the liner notes to Incesticide could tell you (me).
6. I’m serious.
But, I mean… How could you not?
7. The song Seasons in the Sun which he used to play as a child, apparently.
8. William S. Burroughs, including this track which he did backing guitar for.
June 9, 2010
WHY CAN'T THIS BE EVERY DAY?!?
Wow, I am so freaking excited about the World Cup. Seriously, I have two things on my mind right now, and those two things are soccer players’ thighs.
One thing that I dislike about America (besides our reputation for being a nation unable to stop large-scale environmental disasters that we, in effect, have caused) is the fact that soccer is but marginalia in our sports encyclopedia. American club teams are treated like annoying little brothers. The New York Red Bulls? As in they give you wings? Un. Real.
PHEWWWW, sorry to start off on the cranky foot here (total soccer talk). I need to take a deep breath and watch some YouTube montages of Kaká scoring goals juxtaposed with photos of him in a banana hammock for no real reason at all.
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March 10, 2010
It’s strange. I recently made an off-handed comment about how the music industry has lost more greats than the motion picture industry, and then snarkily suggested that the motion picture industry kill off some of their greats. Then lo and behold, 2 days later Corey Haim bites the dust. First of all, I’m not necessarily saying Corey Haim is a great. He is an… all right? (RIP Corey Haim). Second of all, this is not the first time that I’ve accidentally willed a celebrity to die. I have been known to randomly mention actors the day before they keel. This guy knows what I’m talking about.
The response on the internet is, as usual, incredibly profound.
I would be lying if I said I knew much about Corey Haim. My childhood was devoid of the pop culture that informs most of the party jokes of my peers, as I was only allowed to watch a handful of movies–usually based on books featuring scrappy, but well-mannered Victorian girls– or retrospectively terrifying PBS shows.
Sometimes, if I was lucky, my grandma would encourage me to write letters to Barbara Bush about how much I loved to read.
Something else Barbara Bush and I have in common.
It was only recently that I even watched the Lost Boys for the first time!
Obviously, it’s always very sad for anyone who loses a Corey too soon, and RIP Corey Haim. But this whole thing really got me thinking about the teen pop culture of the generation just before ours, or maybe that of our older brothers or sisters, and how now all of those celebrities are old. Remember the John Hughes tribute at the Oscars? Maybe you didn’t catch it because the Botoxed skin of the Brat Pack was reflecting the diamond broadcasts a little too brightly. How terrifying was that? Anyway, that was a bit of a nail in the coffin for the genre of sentimental 1980s movies. Sorry about your feelings, Ally Sheedy. Sorry about your face, Molly Ringwald.
So RIP Corey Haim, and RIP all of us eventually. Nobody’s forever young. Except of course for these guys.
December 23, 2009
Ho ho ho, amiright? Here we are, T-minus 2 days until the nondenominational celebration of Christmas, which everyone all over the world celebrates unless they are terrorists. I’m guessing that anyone who is at an office right now has either stopped working about a week ago or is busily trying to undo any holiday party mishaps with some straight up busy beaver work performances. Hint: it’s not sexual harassment if it happens for Christmas –Your Boss. In any case, since we’re all looking to juice up our holiday spirit like the male cast members of Jersey Shore, my Hump Day Grab Bag is themed “holiday steroids to make your Christmas muscles throb with only minimal ball shrinkage.” (What? Ew.)
Nothing embodies the spirit of Christmas like Christmas music, which represents the corny, the annoying, the amazing, the body, the blood, the holy ghost, etc etc etc. Somehow at midnight on Thanksgiving a giant spirit reindeer hooves a button in the sky and any radio station, store, and phone line that does not immediately play Christmas music is promptly strangled by tinsel or choked by chestnuts (which, coincidentally is is the name of my new holiday album). In all likelihood, the way you handle Christmas music is the way you handle Christmas– either you bite the bullet and embrace the tiny morsels of joy that you extract with your giant yule tweezers from the flaming pile of fruitcake cake shit that is the holiday season, or you whine about how the holidays are for consumerist clowns and you make everyone miserable. Rolling on with this delightful metaphor, here are my favorite golden shit nuggets of holiday jams.
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August 10, 2009
By Tatyana and Michelle
I used to think Michelle was hands down the coolest person alive. But then one drunken night she watched the Twilight movie and proceeded to get sucked into the series. Like, I still thought she was cool, but I don’t know maybe just a little lonely or something? Then my mom came and brought me all the Twilight books. Fifty pages into I was unconvinced, then suddenly, a switch was flipped. I began having dreams; I walked around in a perpetual Twilight haze. And suddenly, Michelle was back to being the coolest (mortal) person I knew again. So now our entire friendship is predicated on barely legal softcore vampire porn. Here is a sampling of our conversations.
Have I ever been this attracted to a man in lipstick before?
Tatyana: Okay, so I read about 250 pages of New Moon yesterday and I’m getting kind of bored. Like, werewolves are great and everything but I want some sexy vampires stat. What is it about vampires? I never thought anything about them, and then Twilight inspired me to start watching True Blood and I swear to god I’m never gonna bone a mortal dude again. What’s wrong with me?!
Michelle: DUDE. Seriously! Speaking from the status of a Breaking Dawn (book 4) reader, I must say don’t worry baby! He’ll be back and you’ve got some 300-600 more pages of non-boning related reading to do. Also, Bella Swan – down to fuck, am i right? I think vampires have always been portrayed as sexy and seducing, because that’s how they attract their prey right? And by prey i mean my vagina. However, don’t get me wrong. The things I would let that werewolf do to me! So many howling jokes…
I mean is it just me or does this all seem to be playing out as the age old (read: racist) battle of stone cold Anglo who’s stoic and quiet vs. the tall ‘exotic’ hot-blooded short tempered dark boy? Oh Jacob Black yr so crazy. I wish i could tame yr Native American ways. Eugh, Stephenie Meyer, why?!?!
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July 13, 2009
We like that zine Gigantic. We think it’s a nice mixture of new fiction and poetry and good interviews with more famous names– like Malcolm Gladwell. We like the format, which is a huge double tabloid newsprint that you unfold and unfold until your neighbors on the train are giving you angry morning eyes while you elbow them unknowingly because you are so fully engrossed in the content. The art is good, with the layout being both ziney yet polished. These Gigantic people, they have a blog too, where you can order the zine. It’s here.
June 22, 2009
A Tweeter from Iran: “Ahmadinejad called us dust, we showed him a sandstorm”