Tuesday, November 17, 2009


One of the best songs in the past 5 years by one the most under-appreciated bands by th American music industry; particuarly my nemeisis, fucking Pitchfork!

I got a notion that says this doesn't right

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Poetry Corner #2

Yes, I enjoy poetry, and no I don't give a shit what people think. I am especially fond of the great writers such as Vidal, Mailer, Singleton, Milton, Homer, Baudelaire, Wilcox, Lao Tzu, Aristotle, Keat, Kipling, Dante, Goethe, Oscar Wilde, T.S. Elliot, Blake, Bukowski, Burgess, Buroughs, Jim Carroll, Victor Hugo, Huxley, Kerouac, Lucretius, Persius, Sylvia Plath, Shakespeare, Mary Shelley, Patti Smith, Updike, and of course my all time favorite, William Butler Yeats. However, since I have already exposed you to my favorite Yeats poem, I shall now introduce you to my favorite poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox. However, before I do, if you have any interest in reading some amazing poetry that makes Jewel's poetry look...well even worse, here is a short list of recommendations. And now, I would like you to enter the tragically beautiful mind of Ella Wheeler Wilcox, I hope you enjoy.

For this is wisdom-to love and live,
To take what fate or the gods may give,
To ask no question, to make no prayer,
To kiss the lips and caress the hair,
Speed passion's ebb as we greet its flow,
To have and to hold, and, in time-let go.

It's 4:03 and I can't sleep without you next to me.

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Saturday, November 14, 2009

A Momentary Lapse Of Reason

Main Entry: in·sane
Pronunciation: \(ˌ)in-ˈsān\
Function: adjective
Etymology: Latin insanus, from in- + sanus sane
Date: circa 1550
1. Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

My train of thought, as well as my life it seems has been nothing but the above definition; insane. I have spent my whole life putting others before myself, and I always get the same result. Almost thirty years of fighting for a life a meager peasant would wish upon his cruel master. Where once I saw a clear path, I now see fog on the windiest of roads. It sometimes seems like nothing more than pure luck that I have not driven (or been driven) over the side of the road, tumbling towards my inevitable bottomless pit of failures and disappointments. I used to think that I was a good person; I would do anything for anyone, and break my back for those I barely considered acquaintances, much less those I truly cared about. Now I can't seem to care about anything. This is nothing new; those who knew me throughout the yesteryears have seen this behavior slowly un-bottle itself, every year seemingly getting worse and worse. Like most children, I dreamed of gold but awoke with rust. I am not sure of the exact moment I began this downward spiral of disappointment and disenchantment, but it seems to have happened long before my memory developed. I can't remember a single period of my life where I have been happy. Maybe I never have. My eyes saw Alexander while the mirror reflected Amory; failing upwards for so long that you begin to feel like you have actually accomplished something until the moment arises where the mirror's reflection finally overcomes your eyes' own overblown perception of failure masked as success and joy. Nothing I do ever seems to be good enough for anybody, and quite frankly, I fear I am done with it. This town, this life is nothing more than a redundant video game that you cannot win, but there is no reset button. I fear I am rather done with this life. There is nothing I can improve, and all I seem to do is fail. So maybe it is time to move on...find another road to travel in another place where no one has any predispositions of my past or predictions of my future. Sorry California, but I am done with you. The next few somber months shall be spent trying to find another place to lay my head, for I fear I have overstayed my welcome here. Sometimes, when you know that you just can't win, you have no choice but to face the fact that you have lost.

And I hold you close in the back of my mind, and raise my glass 'cause either way I'm dead. Neither of you really help me to sleep anymore; One breaks my body and the other breaks my soul.

Friday, November 06, 2009

Goodnight Unknown

For those few who know me personally but were unaware of this, Lou Barlow is one of my favorite musicians. He is ranked in my top 5 somewhere between Tom Waits and Eddie Vedder. So imagine how happy I was when I heard that Lou Barlow has a new solo record out titled Goodnight Unknown. Before I give my personal take on the record, allow me to acclimate you with his previous work; he was the original bass player for Dinosaur Jr., still one of the greatest alternative bands around that manages to continually get better. He was also the man behind the very underappreciated Folk Implosion and my favorite of all his work, Sebadoh, who I was lucky to see live at Old Ironsides in downtown Sacramento in 2004. He has also released two solo albums, along with a handful on EP's under the moniker Sentridoh. He has played a very large role in the late 80's to early 90's music scene, and continues to be the Paul Westerberg of my generation (in my own humble opinion.). The song "On Fire" off of Sebadoh's 1996 release Harmacy is still listed in my top 10 favorite tracks of all time.

As for his new record Goodnight Unknown, I would rank this as some of his best solo work. Where his first solo album Emoh was a mostly acoustic, soft haze of melodic tunes, Goodnight Unknown hit's just a smidge harder. It is a little cleaner sounding than Emoh, but still carries his lo-fi fashion. "Don't Apologize" may sound a little like it was ripped from Sebadoh's later releases, which is not a bad thing at all, but most of the record is standard Barlow acoustic style with occasional electric fuzz. The opening track "Sharing" starts the record off with a mid-tempo garage rock feel, but it smoothes itself out by the last track, "One Note Tone". For those who just could not get into Sebadoh and thought Dinosaur Jr. was a little too indy-grunge for them, Goodnight Unknown is a perfect starting point to jump into his catalog, and then just work your way back. Trust me, you can't go wrong with a single release that carries his name (which happens to be a lot), but this is a great introduction into his lo-fi world.

My mind is open, not my arms. Half the world ago is locked out; I led you on, you did no harm; this story ended when you walked out.

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