Jesus...Sweet, Sweet Jesus

Making Merry—And Pippin Also!

I'll drink to that, too, you cute little hobbits!

Ketching Up. Squeezing Hard.

Wow! It's been a while since I last posted something. But this indeed happens often, I realize. I'll go for a while without writing, then write, then neglect to write for an extended period of time. Consistency would be nice, but I don't that I should expect that of myself. Nevertheless, my intention is to post more regularly from now on.

I've been trying to read more since I've lived in San Marcos. Well, I guess I've been trying to read more since the day I was first immersed into that mythic and action-packed world inhabited by the four-eyed Harry Potter. My tastes have matured a little since then, but I give that book series credit for peaking my interest in reading books. Right now I am reading three books—the Bible, written by all of those blessed saints of old by whom it was the Lord's will to speak, the earnest and contrite Confessions by Saint Augustine, and Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. In a way I don't know if I really need to list the Bible. In my prescience there's no foreseeable point in which I see myself taking it off of the roster, perpetually on cue as it is. At some point, I'll either stop or finish reading Les Miserables and Confessions, but the Bible is continually to have it's own sacred space on the shelf of my reading list.

In regard to music, I have been listening to an old nineties emo band lately—some of the progenitors of emo, Sunny Day Real Estate. If your favorite band was determined by the one you have been listening to most currently, then I guess Sunny Day Real Estate would be mine. I still hold to Radiohead as my favorite, yet something about the austerity and terseness of their music has made it less listenable for me lately than it was in the past, wheras I feel strangely uplifted by Sunny Day Real Estate and the solo recordings from its lead singer Jeremy Enigk.

I should go now, for I have work tomorrow morning and should get some rest. Plus, I have a cold and the congestion/running nose is pissing me off. I hope that sleep'll help me forget about it. Amen

"Money...It's a Drag."

The only cash I have on me is in the form of coins, which makes for an interesting time when I dump them in my pocket. I imagine that these quarters, dimes, and nickels are all the paterfamilias of currency. I imagine that they are actually worth something--a lot, in fact! The clinging against each other as they fall in my pocket makes me think of the way the shekels of ancient Israel or the drachms of Hellenistic Greece must have sounded as they slid into their masters' satchels.

have I got a long way to run

Sweet Deals, Pickle.

My Tori Amos collection in my iTunes library nearly takes up a whole gig. That's a lot of Tori. Also, I went to Hastings today and found Boys for Pele for $7.99 and Tales of a Librarian for $5.99. When I checked out, Pele came out to only $4.99 and Tales for $4.50--both new. That was unexpected and quite delightful.

I'm looking forward to her new album coming out in May. I love spring album releases; they kind of paint part of my vernal experience. When I was a freshmen 3 years ago, I was listening to Placebo's Meds and Copeland's In Motion. Sophomore spring was spent listening to Tori's American Doll Posse, Modest Mouse's We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank, and Frou Frou and Howie Day albums, even though these two had been released prior to that year. Last spring, I listened Ours' Mercy, Death Cab's Narrow Stairs, and Portishead's Third.

I've been listening to a lot of music lately, probably more than usual. There have been releases by Doves, Animal Collective, and Telefon Tel Aviv that have been nice, but the new Yeah Yeah Yeahs album It's Blitz is really where it's at. Mmm...it is so delicious, and I love it. I'm looking forward to the new Depeche Mode coming out this Tuesday, even though their beyond their golden days. I still think they put out good stuff, though. And Tori, well she her Abnormally Attracted to Sin is coming out on May 19th. I'm so excited.

Cherry Professor Pepper

I got Cherry Dr. Pepper on my gray t-shirt and tan cords this evening. Man, that sucks, you know. Cherry Dr. Pepper is probably one of the last drinks I'd want to spill on my clothes. Milk is the last.

Yesterday, I made my poetry professor laugh, which I think is probably one of the hardest things to do in life. She had a take a word and just write about it. I wrote about "warmth." I wrote, "Warm is not worm, even though they sound similar. A coward never feels warmth from the things he is cowering from." She laughed at the worm part. That made me realize that she can actually laugh instead of always just saying "that's funny" without even letting a laugh out. She's probably my favorite professor. I wonder if she likes Tori Amos.

tuna
robber
a little blubber in my igloo
and I knew you pigtails and all
girls when they fall ~ Tori's "Marianne"

Holes in Memory

Shoot, man! Yesterday was my brother's birthday, and I forgot to call him. I don't deserve a call from him on my upcoming birthday.

Kingdom of Lust

I bought a vinyl for a girl one time but shouldn't have, so I never ended up given her the vinyl. But I'm not crazy about it, and I've lost the receipt. I would have rather bought the Portishead vinyl for their self-titled sophomore release--that's where it's at. I say I made a mistake out of rash behavior, but I'm cooled-down and like being that way. Doves are coming out with an album tomorrow. I'm so excited!

I rediscovered a most wonderful beer yesterday--Sam Adam's Black Lager. I had a sip of it for the first time when Nathan came to town this last summer. We went to HEB, and I bought a six pack of Honeymoon, while he got a pack of the Black Lager. I remember him letting me have a sip of his stuff, but I had already had two beers prior to the taste-test, so the normal reception of my taste buds weren't in a state to let me know whether or not I liked the taste. But yesterday, I had the strangest desire to try the Black Lager again, so I bought a pack, and having zero alcohol in my bloodstream, I found with delight upon the first sip that I absolutely love this beer. Very flavorful and not too hoppy for a Sam Adam's.

On Lesser Preferred Vinyls

I have this vinyl that I bought at Hastings about a month ago. I'm not sure why I bought this particular vinyl, for, you see, there was another one that I liked better for a lower price. I still have the receipt and have been meaning to take it back to exchange it for a cooler one, but I don't know if I'll ever get around to doing this because I've been thinking about it since I first bought the thing. Plus, as an added factor to tension, I do like the vinyl I bought.

A7

I sure do like A7. I used to not--you know, a little to bluesy. But I've come to a point in my life where I've really grown to appreciate this particular chord. I suppose it's a reflection on my own maturation. Perhaps...

?

Which Radiohead song are you? 2 + 2 = 5 You can scream and you can shout, it's too late now because you have not been paying attention. And apparently you`re not very good at math. All hail to the thief!

Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

I'm not sure I agree with this quiz since the questions the creators ask are completely stupid and irrelevant. Still, I take it as a complement. I like "2+2=5"--it's a good song!

Frosti

When I was in charge of the radio station at camp this summer, I would let the campers in my block class (the two hour activity block for the oldest kids) choose DJ names for themselves. Without shame, I'll admit that most of the names were kind of stupid. Some examples are Direct Input (d.i.), Snow White, I Love Rascal Flatts, Wii-mote, and the Daredevil. My favorite DJ name, though, was DJ Frosti.

I can't remember whether or not I prompted the kid to use this name or not. He may have come up with it, which is very likely. I'll bet he was thinking of the frozen deserts you can get for a dollar at Wendy's. In my mind, though, I was thinking of this beautiful two-minute song written by Björk that appears as the 6th track on her 2001 album Vespertine. I named the one recording I did with him as "Interview with Frosti." That's with an "i," which is the way Björk's song is spelled. I doubt he envisioned the spelling of his DJ name, but I'm sure that if he would have written it down, it would have ended with a "y". But this was my own way of paying homage to a wonderful little tune that seems to be so shadowed in the rest of the glory that Vespertine oozes. Here's to you, "Frosti" -- and to you too, Frosti.

Autumn's Cornucopia of Dreams: potentially less heat and frappuccinos

Today, September the 22nd, is the autumn equinox. In celebration of this blessed day, we are going to eat pizza. I might even smoke my pipe.

The Hippopotamus by T.S. Eliot

The broad-backed hippopotamus
Rests on his belly in the mud;
Although he seems so firm to us
He is merely flesh and blood.

Flesh-and-blood is weak and frail,
Susceptible to nervous shock;
While the True Church can never fail
For it is based upon a rock.

The hippo's feeble steps may err
In compassing material ends,
While the True Church need never stir
To gather in its dividends.

The 'potamus can never reach
The mango on the mango-tree;
But fruits of pomegranate and peach
Refresh the Church from over sea.

At mating time the hippo's voice
Betrays inflexions hoarse and odd,
But every week we hear rejoice
The Church, at being one with God.

The hippopotamus's day
Is passed in sleep; at night he hunts;
God works in a mysterious way--
The Church can sleep and feed at once.

I saw the 'potamus take wing
Ascending from the damp savannas,
And quiring angels round him sing
The praise of God, in loud hosannas.

Blood of the Lamb shall wash him clean
And him shall heavenly arms enfold,
Among the saints he shall be seen
Performing on a harp of gold.

He shall be washed as white as snow,
By all the martyr'd virgins kist,
While the True Church remains below
Wrapt in the old miasmal mist.

Sweet Surrender

it doesn't mean much
it doesn't mean anything at all
the life I've left behind me
is a cold room
I've crossed the last line
from where I can't return
where every step I took in faith
betrayed me
and led me from my home

and sweet
sweet surrender
is all that I have to give

you take me in
no questions asked
you strip away the ugliness
that surrounds me
are you an angel
am I already that gone
I only hope
that I won't disappoint you
when I'm down here
on my knees

and sweet
sweet
sweet surrender
is all that I have to give

sweet
sweet
sweet surrender
is all that I have to give

and I don't understand
by the touch of your hand
I would be the one to fall

I miss the little things
oh I miss everything

it doesn't mean much
it doesn't mean anything at all
the life I left behind me
is a cold room

ah Sarah
ah Sarah McLachlan

Weird Fishes Live - Radiohead

I know I haven't posted anything in a while, and to simply fill up space with a music video may seem lame. However, this is not a lame video, for it is amazing.

Vaka - Sigur Ros

Coffee Shop Stop

Well, today was my last day to work at the Barnes and Noble Café in Tech's Student Union building. I'm supposed to work their next year, but who really knows what next year holds. Maybe I'll be the lead guitarist of a band called the Iron Tree Roots. Maybe not. Maybe Barak will say something extremely detrimental to his campaign and be pushed way behind in popularity. Maybe not. Nevertheless, who knows? And Who knows indeed. But I would like to mention some of the people I'm going to miss and some of the people I'm not going to miss. I'll start with the nicer stuff first.

I'm going to miss:

that short, old, senile lady who works at the ATLC in the library and who gets a refill of coffee every day, even if she just has a plastic lid to validate that cup is indeed a "refill."

the really pretty girl who wore Chacos and Chucks and who ususally got a refill of coffee and a bran muffin. I never actually talked to her, though. She wore a Stars Wars T-shirt one day; that was cool.

all of the asian people who are usually really hard to understand and who, as a general rule of thumb, buy every drink in 12 ounce portions.

I'm not going to miss:

that douche bag frat boy who seems to think that I inherently know the size every drink order he makes.

the crazy — and probably autistic — Russian lady who would drink the condiment bar's half-in-half in 3 ounce cups

all the sorority girls who would order "tall, skinny, sugar-free vanilla lattes"

the occasional influx of junior high and high schoolers who would order — without a doubt — frappuccinos.

Well, these are the customers I will and will not miss. I bet I'm forgetting somebody...