Am I blogging...or am I pitching my existence?
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| High Concept Am I blogging...or am I pitching my existence? |
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Friday, February 18, 2005 The Pitch: It's like The Hours meets Ong-Bak! It's almost 11:00 and I am home in the house, quite alone, with only I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning as my companion. Ryan is in town for a quick visit, and she and Edi are out at some play in the Tenderloin (they're probably drinking with the cast by now) and this is a very, very good thing. I talked with Edi on the cell phone earlier tonight as they were leaving, and Edi sounded very, very happy--it was a genuine relief to hear how happy she sounded considering how stressful this week has been.The empty house thing is kind of awkward and weird for me--it happens so rarely I'm never quite sure what to do. As somebody who likes having a certain amount of time alone, I feel embarrassed and uncomfortable now when I finally get some in the privacy of the home--I feel like one of those infants that point at a rubber hamburger and squall and whine and twitch and then, when finally given said hamburger, look around blankly, like: well, what now? I picked up the Bright Eyes album and also Nas's Illmatic at Streetlight Records after an expansive but not particularly tasty fettucine dinner at Noe Street Pizza. I was inspired to get the Nas album after watching the VH1 "Driven" last week. What a goofy, goofy man I am--I hated Nas after watching him stink up Belly, liked maybe one or two tracks (at most) that I've heard, but because a bunch of Nas's friends were talking about how talented and brilliant a rapper he was, I thought, "Well, yeah. Gee, there's got to be a reason people like this guy, right?" Oh, so very dumb am I. It was okay, and maybe it'll grow on me but I think maybe Nas paints a very clear picture of a particular type of East Coast existence that resonates with people who are familiar with that way of life, and it just doesn't knock me on the ass the way, I dunno, Straight Out of Compton did. As far as I can tell, I much prefer Nas's wife, the "My Milkshake Brings All The Boys To The Yard" chick. Criminey, that's just a million time more brilliant that anything I've heard yet on Illmatic. And of the two Bright Eyes albums, I prefer the folky one, although nothing yet cuts me open as widely as "Landlocked Blues" which I love just as much having paid for it as I did when I snagged it for free. Thank God it balances out "Road To Joy," which uses Beethoven's melody to "Ode to Joy" for a folksy acoustic tune. Oh, it burns, preciousssssss, it burns poor Smeagol... Heh. I think I'm the last person on the entire Internet to do a Gollum imitation. Where's my prize, dammit? I should be writing the new comics section, but, oh, jesus, I am just so fuckin' tired of comic books at the moment. I did very good business working solo at the comic shop, and read a lot of funny books (even though I can't see how I'm going to get a chance to write any reviews this week) and even have some books I'm looking forward to reading (Helllllllo, Essential Luke Cage!) but I just can't wrap my head around trying to be witty and/or informative about a bunch of books coming out three months from now. I am so very, very eager not to be writing about new comics that I pissily spent ten minutes trying to log on to Blogger so I could write about something other than fucking comic books. And so, this is me on a Friday night while the girlfriend is away: wasting money; wasting calories; wasting time. Oh!! But another thing I picked up tonight while killing time on 24th Street--and which I'm very, very happy about--is The Police Log, a collection of articles from The Aracta Eye wherein Kevin L. Hooper writes up the police log for my old hometown and catches all of the charm of the place: May 29, 1995 Noon: In the throes of a hissyfit, the person outside the thrift store at 11th and K streets toook it out on a refrigerator, kicking it over into the street. The icebox insulter then fled on bicycle before police arrived. September 13, 1999 8 p.m.: A Blakeslee Avenue resident's wheelchair was stolen from her front yard. September 22, 2000 1:08 p.m.: These neighbors aren't getting along, and it's come down to accusations of laundry stealing. Thank you, Kevin L. Hoover, for giving this exile a taste of his never-forgotten homeland. The woman at the book store on Castro (wish I had the name of the store here but I don't) is a very big booster and was happy to tell me how she had discovered the book. In fact, there's a booksigning next Friday for the author (Vol. II has just been released) and I'm very much thinking about going. Provided I ever finish this motherfucking newsletter, of course. Argh...argh...argh. posted by Jeff Lester | 11:35 PM | |
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