Spent the past hour and a half posting rehash movie quotes with my son instead of laying down some words worth interest, yet with all that aside what does it matter in a reality where all things are super consumable void of circumstance, so listening to Slint right now in order to push the words in the small amount of time left to write such illiterate logic, can't believe I such phrases come out plainly, the spellcheck has been turned off, time to go freestyle. All these mondays spent at Vegas happy hour bars watching small portion everyday 9 to 5 ers who are just a mere fragment in the clockwork which propels this city into its illustrious decadent cinema style legend has become pop fodder worthy of an X Factor season starring Brittney, OJ, and possibly Seth McFarlane, entertainment indeed.
Wanted to talk about a few cultural phenomenon that I got experience this weekend, a wedding and graduation ceremony but not enough time, tis the season or renewing so coordinated such things as above to confuse human beings into believing that the tried and true passages in life remain quite believable and passionate, but why spoil the fun for the human race it is much better to just let such events continue onto the next century. It is much better to watch white collar workers throw down their best moves on the female co- workers who sit and endure various lame come ons from men in various states of balding. Shit, why not, I am entertained as these guys go through the motions only to end up walking away alone on their way to the nearest fast food take out. Either way it is time to go and can only muster up a brief yet semi-inspired piece for your viewing. Let's See who else has been on the audio radar lately, Tame Impala, the new Deerhunter and of course Kendrick Lamar, Later.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Thursday, May 16, 2013
This Is Fcukin Awesome
It is weird when you get so old to the point that ignoring the fundamental truths which have brought one along so far in life no longer feels so wrong, maybe a little bit, yet here I stand in the middle another twenty something pop-fest with screwed on smile disguising a somewhat disconnected and uninterested attention span that would make even the most ADD ridden person seem hyper focused. Hell, it's not time to give up or attempt a peace offering with forces I have continuously been at odds with for the past 25 years, seeing that things like weird music, art, and culture invasively intertwined themselves into my DNA; it is hard to accept mediocrity as the absolute answer, even though for much of my life this has been the case. Had to put on Aphex Twin Selected Ambient Works II in order to generate a proper mood for writing this, no long driving voids into opaques galaxies of reasoning, it never resonates with all these people I passed by today talking about bargain diapers at Wal Mart, or half hearted pleas to obey corporate rules from indentured servants as their masters walk the never ending halls of madness seeking to make their existence just a bit more bleak.
Nothing better to do today than watch another internet sensation muse of the social injustices plied against homosexuals, the culturally unattractive, and those who want no part with mainstream artifacts.
These are worthwhile causes to remind our lovely little Facebook generation about so they can click on a bunch of likes/thumbs ups in order to bring about change. Yet there was something about the crowd who had been waiting for the past three hours to take part in the music video dressed in attire you might see in some hollywood prom night movie scene. Their eyes gave off a sickened stare, catatonic, lost in a wasteland constructed by upper middle class profiteers who had convinced themselves that their contribution to promoting socially conscious good times actually was benefitting society at large. Today was merely another distraction, though slightly more glamourous, in a series of daily detours which have paralyzed our youth into throwing away their lives in the quest for light beer, club music, and the occasional STD. As the audience was corralled into their proper positions, I took a bit of time to chat with a few of the people, if nothing else to get further intel on what brought them to this event in the first place, yet all people wanted to know was how to get into my industry. Admittedly, my job is somewhat of grand illusion that appears to be a brass ring to those who work for minimum wage in the service sector, still I take just as much shit as the next stiff, but today was easy and the conversation provided a few laughs in each direction.
The band came out on stage so it was time to get into character, screw the fake smile back on as a sea of eyes gave me the periodic glance, then refocused their attention back on the band parading about the stage with MC antics so throughly worn out that these guys should be sending royalty checks to MC Shan, Rakim, and Kurtis Blow. Time to go translucent as to not instill the cool factor too heavily into the audience who can become shellshocked hipster vibes like young fresh innocent deer at the crackling fire from a hunter's gun. After kneeling to the ground in a ceremonial like pose to make Tebow proud, the teens around me began to go into full on 1980's era Tijuana party mode, luckily or maybe not so, alcohol was not served during this performance in a club environment which may have tipped the party into high gear Roman era frivolity not seen since late 90's Vegas strip club after hours era.
Everyone knew the song and were more than obligating in their rendition of the tune throughout the many times it was replayed, no sense of half assing it. A collective recollection culled from the most sexually charged 80's heavy metal and 90's booty music videos began to flow through the audience in fragrant pungent candy cane waves. It's a T&A show now the other guys who came with the girlfriends pretending to be into this who charade spent most of their time staring at ass while waving make believe 20 dollar bills. The luster of fame, no matter how it is shared pulls in those who have little left in their lives to dream about than singing away all your problems to an audience of others that really want nothing else than to do the same thing, so there is a connection, not the only one, but a bond which has propelled unknowns into the spotlight as a mean of low rent exorcism. That is enough for now went way to long on this one, could been longer, merely a sneak peek into what runs around this brain of mine and the need to get it out as soon possible.
Nothing better to do today than watch another internet sensation muse of the social injustices plied against homosexuals, the culturally unattractive, and those who want no part with mainstream artifacts.
These are worthwhile causes to remind our lovely little Facebook generation about so they can click on a bunch of likes/thumbs ups in order to bring about change. Yet there was something about the crowd who had been waiting for the past three hours to take part in the music video dressed in attire you might see in some hollywood prom night movie scene. Their eyes gave off a sickened stare, catatonic, lost in a wasteland constructed by upper middle class profiteers who had convinced themselves that their contribution to promoting socially conscious good times actually was benefitting society at large. Today was merely another distraction, though slightly more glamourous, in a series of daily detours which have paralyzed our youth into throwing away their lives in the quest for light beer, club music, and the occasional STD. As the audience was corralled into their proper positions, I took a bit of time to chat with a few of the people, if nothing else to get further intel on what brought them to this event in the first place, yet all people wanted to know was how to get into my industry. Admittedly, my job is somewhat of grand illusion that appears to be a brass ring to those who work for minimum wage in the service sector, still I take just as much shit as the next stiff, but today was easy and the conversation provided a few laughs in each direction.
The band came out on stage so it was time to get into character, screw the fake smile back on as a sea of eyes gave me the periodic glance, then refocused their attention back on the band parading about the stage with MC antics so throughly worn out that these guys should be sending royalty checks to MC Shan, Rakim, and Kurtis Blow. Time to go translucent as to not instill the cool factor too heavily into the audience who can become shellshocked hipster vibes like young fresh innocent deer at the crackling fire from a hunter's gun. After kneeling to the ground in a ceremonial like pose to make Tebow proud, the teens around me began to go into full on 1980's era Tijuana party mode, luckily or maybe not so, alcohol was not served during this performance in a club environment which may have tipped the party into high gear Roman era frivolity not seen since late 90's Vegas strip club after hours era.
Everyone knew the song and were more than obligating in their rendition of the tune throughout the many times it was replayed, no sense of half assing it. A collective recollection culled from the most sexually charged 80's heavy metal and 90's booty music videos began to flow through the audience in fragrant pungent candy cane waves. It's a T&A show now the other guys who came with the girlfriends pretending to be into this who charade spent most of their time staring at ass while waving make believe 20 dollar bills. The luster of fame, no matter how it is shared pulls in those who have little left in their lives to dream about than singing away all your problems to an audience of others that really want nothing else than to do the same thing, so there is a connection, not the only one, but a bond which has propelled unknowns into the spotlight as a mean of low rent exorcism. That is enough for now went way to long on this one, could been longer, merely a sneak peek into what runs around this brain of mine and the need to get it out as soon possible.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Pump Down the Volume
Well hell, it's two years later and the only things matured at this point in my life have been the fat on my body and permanent caustic etched fatigue lines upon the skin. Freshly delivered truths descend from heaven's gate in bountiful baskets call complacency, denial, and fiction, not the kind of tales found in literature and film but the ones which allow people such as myself to rise out of bed in the morning without a cocktail of alcohol, pills, and various other reality masking substances. It is just not me, but everyone within an earshot; co- workers, friends, and complete strangers who seek an exit to sleep through one more afternoon of what ever various problems saddle them like a broken horse close to starvation. There does not seem to much of an escape route anymore that is not covered in the metallic barbs of internal self centered bitching or griping to a somewhat international online audience where a camaraderie of pain, boredom, and need for attention have superseded any real desire to resolve the generational social stratification and inequality amongst quarreling beings lined up alongside opposite sides of the same active volcanic rim.
Why has it become so much easier to give up? Living in the land of distraction has transformed me into a resident of streaming internet television, lazy dinners, and weekends down at the local pub. This all feels really safe, encouraged telepathically by invisible sources who seek to make me tread aimlessly in middle age routines. The best I can do now is sit at a bar and watch local patrons spend their money, get drunk, while jamming dollars into the hipster jukebox machine in the ultimate contest of punk chic indie cool. Lately, the curtain has risen on the next episode in this great lingering hoax. A new brood of decadent, drug taking, and disenchanted youth headed toward the same pitfalls that converted me into an anti-authority, unique culture seeking, and heavy handed detractor of all things obvious, fake, and status seeking has converged upon this uninitiated breed. It is such a grand set up which has delivered a pilgrimage toward the fringe flavors of the late 80's'/early 90's alternative culture, so come forth the reunion tours, cult films, and icons of the past that are being paraded down Pennslyvania Avenue like the Soviet military procession back during the cold war era.
Time for bed, there is an entire society of people who depend on my workplace contribution, even after being given the green light to wheel and deal in whatever manner seen fit throughout the night, just to file into the job like a military test subject injected with top secret psychotropic chemicals. You get through the day almost insect like, quiet, calm, and polite while on the inside it becomes a battle to fend off the fear which comes with detoxification and the yearning to continue the cycle as soon as the clock says its time to go. This is the beast which has a hold on me, one who seeks unlimited fun and no price to be paid who punishes its captor like an abducted child, love through pain and relief through regret, yet such illusions are best left for the mute expressions on the faces of those under the command of internal demons that come on in schizophrenic waves of panic because as the spirit of addiction intensifies the fearful eyes held captive by neural impulses seeking relief slowly die.
Why has it become so much easier to give up? Living in the land of distraction has transformed me into a resident of streaming internet television, lazy dinners, and weekends down at the local pub. This all feels really safe, encouraged telepathically by invisible sources who seek to make me tread aimlessly in middle age routines. The best I can do now is sit at a bar and watch local patrons spend their money, get drunk, while jamming dollars into the hipster jukebox machine in the ultimate contest of punk chic indie cool. Lately, the curtain has risen on the next episode in this great lingering hoax. A new brood of decadent, drug taking, and disenchanted youth headed toward the same pitfalls that converted me into an anti-authority, unique culture seeking, and heavy handed detractor of all things obvious, fake, and status seeking has converged upon this uninitiated breed. It is such a grand set up which has delivered a pilgrimage toward the fringe flavors of the late 80's'/early 90's alternative culture, so come forth the reunion tours, cult films, and icons of the past that are being paraded down Pennslyvania Avenue like the Soviet military procession back during the cold war era.
Time for bed, there is an entire society of people who depend on my workplace contribution, even after being given the green light to wheel and deal in whatever manner seen fit throughout the night, just to file into the job like a military test subject injected with top secret psychotropic chemicals. You get through the day almost insect like, quiet, calm, and polite while on the inside it becomes a battle to fend off the fear which comes with detoxification and the yearning to continue the cycle as soon as the clock says its time to go. This is the beast which has a hold on me, one who seeks unlimited fun and no price to be paid who punishes its captor like an abducted child, love through pain and relief through regret, yet such illusions are best left for the mute expressions on the faces of those under the command of internal demons that come on in schizophrenic waves of panic because as the spirit of addiction intensifies the fearful eyes held captive by neural impulses seeking relief slowly die.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
How I Killed Thanksgiving
Sullen air and misery surrounded the living room; a funeral was being held today to commemorate the institution known as Thanksgiving. There are just two of us now with the rest of the family either dead or too far away to care, engulfed in their own series of personal tragedies which I only tend to hear about via contemporary social media. I personally have not cared about this holiday ever since the break up of the annual family gathering that consisted of a series of drunken discussions, then arguements, and finally relatives flying out through any door of their choosing usually head first. Once everyone got so pissed at each to the point no one cared to bothering travelling anymore, I was left to be marooned with the small cluster of relatives left on the west coast, too bad none of them liked each other anymore. Long gone now are those days of arguements amidst cousins that carry on for hours over the most minute of words spoken amongst each other, led with the traditional assaults of stupid, retard, you have no idea what you are talking about, you are just acting out, and last but not least, I'm going tell on you, then the punching ensued .
The teenagers during this time used their new found school time intellect to confuse the younger sibilings, as the small ones ended up stomping off with mother's purse and cigarettes which always brought on spontaneous spankings from various aunts, no one could catch me, so if it meant staying out all night till my mom left or if she just dumped me off at my grandparents resulted in sleeping in the back of a car or crashing on a friends couch down the street. The holidays only made me tired, close a bedroom door and sleep all day, easiest way not to face all the insanity, babbling drunks with half mashed menthols in their mouths, greasy burboun lips, ash burnt nylon polyester shirts. Drinks spilled as the dogs cleaned up the mess, very few ever escaped the celebration sober, people of such inclination hardly ever made it through the door and if they hung around were made to feel so uncomfortable and periodically attack as a signal to any square who attempted to sanitized my family holiday parties. Part local bar, part tribal beat down. I can remember my realtives telling me how much of an asshole I was as a kid, a wild heathen who did not listen to anyone, they would gang up on my mom over it, but this only encouraged her to give me more freedom, luckily I was smart enought to employ my talents to their full potential.
There was not much of a learning curve on how to get over on the relatives, all of them had little schooling, blue collar, and maintain a thirst as well as lust for anything subversive and decadent, therefore my educational passion as a youth came under siege with such great confidence boosters as Beaner Kid, Bastard Asshole, just like your grandfather. Well whoever I happened to be like, my appreciation of laughing at my family's expense outlasted their ability to keep the show going, just like so many great acts over the centuries; the focus, commitment, and will power to deliver the next great hit overwhelmed this particular comedy troop, so now my mother and myself have be left to laugh over Seinfeld and That 70's Show reruns.
I miss the madness of alcohol fueled battles and that were just the kids, the adults did not bother with toning anything down, the partying began days before the actual holiday. A virtual 70's era flophouse, a legion of aunt and uncles all passed out around the place, of course my grandmother leading the parade with a smoke, a whiskey on the rocks, and foul mouth cuss shit storm to put anyone in listening distance in a state of constant of fear and laughter. The great thing about my transient vagabond so called relatives crashing at my grandparents house was that it gave me and my cousins plenty of time to rummage through their pockets and purses for cash we could spend down at the neighborhood market or just keep the money they gave us to buy cigarettes for them cause everyone was too drunk to move by 2p in the afternoon.
Just left to formalities now of the afternoon meal today, how is the food, want something else to eat, you have to try this I spent 8 hours pulling it together, all of which I can quickly throw off with a yawn in a fit of exhuastion from work. The rest of the time is filled with football games and comedy reruns, can only really just fall asleep for periods in order to duck out on any meaningful interaction as if this late in the relationship between my mother and myself was possible, not that it matters, just the conventional ritual of Thanksgiving has never retain much traction, rather be in some bar or beach in a tropical country far away from the consessions of this holiday that make me feel so hypocritical and conformist. So the easiest thing to do is get on another plane and get back to work, cause Christmas is not far away.
The teenagers during this time used their new found school time intellect to confuse the younger sibilings, as the small ones ended up stomping off with mother's purse and cigarettes which always brought on spontaneous spankings from various aunts, no one could catch me, so if it meant staying out all night till my mom left or if she just dumped me off at my grandparents resulted in sleeping in the back of a car or crashing on a friends couch down the street. The holidays only made me tired, close a bedroom door and sleep all day, easiest way not to face all the insanity, babbling drunks with half mashed menthols in their mouths, greasy burboun lips, ash burnt nylon polyester shirts. Drinks spilled as the dogs cleaned up the mess, very few ever escaped the celebration sober, people of such inclination hardly ever made it through the door and if they hung around were made to feel so uncomfortable and periodically attack as a signal to any square who attempted to sanitized my family holiday parties. Part local bar, part tribal beat down. I can remember my realtives telling me how much of an asshole I was as a kid, a wild heathen who did not listen to anyone, they would gang up on my mom over it, but this only encouraged her to give me more freedom, luckily I was smart enought to employ my talents to their full potential.
There was not much of a learning curve on how to get over on the relatives, all of them had little schooling, blue collar, and maintain a thirst as well as lust for anything subversive and decadent, therefore my educational passion as a youth came under siege with such great confidence boosters as Beaner Kid, Bastard Asshole, just like your grandfather. Well whoever I happened to be like, my appreciation of laughing at my family's expense outlasted their ability to keep the show going, just like so many great acts over the centuries; the focus, commitment, and will power to deliver the next great hit overwhelmed this particular comedy troop, so now my mother and myself have be left to laugh over Seinfeld and That 70's Show reruns.
I miss the madness of alcohol fueled battles and that were just the kids, the adults did not bother with toning anything down, the partying began days before the actual holiday. A virtual 70's era flophouse, a legion of aunt and uncles all passed out around the place, of course my grandmother leading the parade with a smoke, a whiskey on the rocks, and foul mouth cuss shit storm to put anyone in listening distance in a state of constant of fear and laughter. The great thing about my transient vagabond so called relatives crashing at my grandparents house was that it gave me and my cousins plenty of time to rummage through their pockets and purses for cash we could spend down at the neighborhood market or just keep the money they gave us to buy cigarettes for them cause everyone was too drunk to move by 2p in the afternoon.
Just left to formalities now of the afternoon meal today, how is the food, want something else to eat, you have to try this I spent 8 hours pulling it together, all of which I can quickly throw off with a yawn in a fit of exhuastion from work. The rest of the time is filled with football games and comedy reruns, can only really just fall asleep for periods in order to duck out on any meaningful interaction as if this late in the relationship between my mother and myself was possible, not that it matters, just the conventional ritual of Thanksgiving has never retain much traction, rather be in some bar or beach in a tropical country far away from the consessions of this holiday that make me feel so hypocritical and conformist. So the easiest thing to do is get on another plane and get back to work, cause Christmas is not far away.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Tues Afternoon
Everyone must have the fn day off, a short reprieve of temperate weather has brought the masses out for one more go around of holiday cheer, black fridays, and aggressive panhandling before the usual high desert chills come back around sending the hoards scrambling back to their televisions and weekly cold water pads. Pretty pissed at everyone right now, just in a general state of being ran into the ground for no other reason than shooting up a pipe dream of accomplishing some future goal that is as transparent as the evening sky in a remote outland mountain pass. Either way, the Mexican women inside the laundry mat are being extra nice to me as they try to figure out how to place well worn dollar bills into the change machine. It's a talent I have cultivated over the years from video game arcades to old school gambling halls. The lady's understand this new revelation and use this new found skill to keep their already smiling attitudes well intact. Not me though, can't take being nice to anyone right now, have had too many months of bullshit lying, grins, and half hearted sincerity. Those who know me, understand to forego all the thank you's and praise, what do I care, just give me dinero in which I can buy people, services, or some narcotics to melt my brain into forgetting all the time being wasted conducting such false activity.
Multitasking, trying to get paperwork, technical surveys, and soft core porn spam all addressed and sent out to the proper authorities. Rushing around like a bat on speed and acid, no real direction, a lady tosses all of her clothes out of the way, in aggressive mode, mumbling to myself and anyone else who will listen to the complexity of my daily life, moving past the basics of food, water, and shelter have only led to an intricate web of personal carnal desires that have become the base for my existence and to pay for them has led me into a few alleys that must constantly be maintained, nothing more than a junkie, a slave, and drone so I can fry my nervous system, much easier than holding it in, being amongst the public does not solve this problem, really only makes it worse, still there are a few out there for whom I shall deal with the general public with my fingers holding me nose, great material once and a while. Otherwise, have to get the hell out of this laundry mat, the woman in charge during the day keeps making eyes at me, tired of the traps, the mistakes of others which I have been handed responsibility of, its so much weight that occasionally fatigue gets the best of me. Well, off to the Rebel basketball game and a standard of allures to convince others that the gun barrel has been dropped back down to the side of my leg, we'll see, later.
Monday, November 21, 2011
7 Billion
Filling up the streets, freeways, and cyberspace, I can remember the projected population reports of high school social studies classes that offered up a relative time line for a time when planet earth would earth 7 Billion inhabitants 2015 might have been the date, possibly 2013, but here is 2011 and let's have a round of applause for the human carnal desire . The bodies just keep piling up, there is not enough plague, war, violence, disease, and natural disasters to stem the tide of the global reproductive frenzy taking place all around us. As long as sex and an hereditary inclination to have mini replicas of ourselves exist; there shall always be room to give birth to someone who will fix romantic relationships, as well as social, economic, and personal psychological issues of the human race. But what the hell are we as adults, elders, and mentors truly offering the children of tomorrow. So many of them already walk the streets muted by the technological gifts borne from the collective need to find distraction instead of purposeful intention. We adult/children have lost the mettle which set our elders apart from us in eras past. Throughout the past decade I have seen so many nations, rich and poor bursting at the seams with humans all vying for the same limited resources or just for the opportunity to buy an XBox, IPod, or satellite television.
How much further can this population trend go without seeking alternative planets for living, where those who can afford the adventurous transplantation get away from the sprawling masses that sicken of existing on one bowl of rice a day. Or will this planet simply swallow up the entire human race discarding our existence like the ancient animal fossil scattered throughout the world. Of course, the most convenient answer is, "Well, I'll be dead before anything gets too weird." I remember my grandparents telling me that exact thing. They were so overly concerned about how the US was heading down the shitter, but why bother changing things. " I went through WWII and the Great Depression." so it was as if they felt as a generation; they had a pass to stick their collective heads in the sand and bequeath the misery onto the future. Well, the future is here and there does not seem to be anyone out there overly concerned with where society and the human race could be headed in the next hundred years. Technology is no savior, I see more facebook users than anything clogging up the internet, just more virtual drugs to bury the pain of existence, the chain of the digital human race has made the 7 Billion a campground where people hang in cliques and screen out the others with the checkmark of a few boxes. Regardless, people will continue to fuck, have children as an answer to their problems, then set them adrift at the earliest convenience, as the cycle keeps repeating until we have nothing left to consume but each other, Yum!
Monday, October 3, 2011
Kicking in Circles
There seems to be no end to my binge like behavior. The slightest invitation is the best excuse to crawl out from under my bed with great zeal into the arms of the burning night and sometimes the daytime under the fog of substances and booze. From the teens, to 20's, to 30's and beyond, not sure I can imagine my current hellbent zest for life continuing with such determination, yet at this point in life, it has become a matter of understanding what drives me, experience has offered its gifts and dark hours as well. Taking a break for one day feels like a victory, a week, almost unheard of, yet after recollecting on the past fury and near falls, the next day hangover does not offer much in the challenge department. Granted, I do not desire to go into a full blown narcotic stupor; the come downs are way too intense these days, until the spine stiffens and the clouds burn away from inside the brain, confidence builds as well as the need to speed things up around the Miller residence.
Planes, work sites, hotels, are followed by an assortment of bars, television, and occasionally sleep, may not always be the proper way to live life, but at this point there is very little left to do but fall into some religious based transformation rebirthing as a brill cream lathered, fear laden, flesh zombie, infected with the virus of mediocrity, incentive to write is key, the pain between the inspiration and the exit chute to reality is the only time left to express emotions, visions, and ideas on here. A quick window that closes the better I start to feel, when the writing is good, the corpse pays the price, but when the body is well, the soul suffers and so the circle runs round.
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