1.01.2005
top ten of the moment
again, in no hierarchical order...
10. cramped urban sports demand a peculiar element of fantasy. unlike traditional playground sports, where one might fancy oneself a "michael jordan" anytime a skillful two points are scored, fantasy becomes integral to the game. the poor kids huddled around my neighborhood rowhomes are under obligation to imagine that the seven-foot-tall wooden bucket they've planted along the sidewalk is a "regulation net." they must skillfully weave a cohesive whole out of a series of fragmented gestures-- a stop-and-go of passing cars and scornful adults. it takes a strange breed of juvenile integrity to even bother with such a thing. the kids are dreaming all around me, but not because they want to dream...
9. my cat (arthur) and my roommate's cat (dwayne) are actually getting along.
instead of eating one another alive, they wander around the house together, pausing to explore bodily smells or to compete for my affection. plus, dwayne can clearly kick arthur's ass (but is indifferent to any temptation to do so), which is creating a paradoxical state of good behavior, and making my arms and legs less of a scratching post...
8. kane quaye is an artist from ghana who specializes in making coffins shaped like actual objects. his mercedes benz coffin is currently on display at the place that pays my bills (part of the "african art, african voices" exhibit currently on display). the evocations of this sort of thing are endless, and i won't ruin its impression by providing my own.
7. george michael bluth provides just the right sprinkle of humanism into the thick soup of arrested development, thereby adding a strange balance to the show's occasional nastiness, and keeping things from becoming too smug and obnoxious.
6. part of the deal with my new as-of-yet-not-fully-moved-in-roommate, is that i get to keep my studio (all to myself), which for the past two years has been split with another person. as a result, i have sprawled out, littering the whole room with bits of cut paper, and gotten (increasingly) to work.
5. another pleasant offshoot of having a roommate who isn't officially "around" is all the private time i'm afforded, during which i can sing scott walker songs out loud to my cat whenever i please.
"...yoooooo've become a strange-uhhhhhh..."
(furthermore, sometimes i don't even sing scott walker songs per se, as opposed to "songs in the style of scott walker." i did a rather heart-felt rendition of the jackson 5's "i'll be there" in the style of scott the other day... which was greeted with blazing feline indifference, as could be expected...)
4. the popularity of animal collective strikes me as an encouraging cultural decision. i can't really remember a time when a record as "avant-garde" as sung tongs enjoyed as widespread popularity. i'm tempted to say the boredoms' chocolate synthesizer... but i think that's just because they managed to wander on in to lollapalooza as a result of it. and sung tongs is damn good, too. more accessible than here comes the indian, but more distinct as well. the album feels fresh to me-- not confined to many of the tropes of "noise" or "new" music, and psychedelic in a way that doesn't immediately reek of spaceman 3. i'll also add that it's nice to see a band riff off of pet sounds and come up with something other than the umpteenth wanna-be elephant 6 record...
3. my roommate's dvd set of the first-and-only season of freaks and geeks is forcing me to slowly re-live every instance of abject humiliation that once marked my adolescent life. which inevitably raises the quizzila-esque question:
which of these poor specimens "would i be" were i a freaks and geeks cast member???
yes yes, y'all... for his love of groucho marx... for his hammy, over-eager attempts at wittiness (not unlike this very-insistent post you are currently reading)... for his strange way of translating inexperience and adolescent fear into a series of curmudgeonly old-man-isms... and finally, for his short stature... i am neil, ladies and gentlemen, for better or for worse.
2. one of the most well-advertised graffiti bandits of fishtown has chosen for himself the tag of "porn." that's right, porn. his tag name is PORN. sometimes "porn" is punctuated with an inverted pentagram (hey, why the hell not???) god bless you, mr. porn... this post goes out to you.
1. finally, i've refrained from my usual "review" style entry on this one, but jonathen lethem's the fortress of solitude is one of the best books i've read this year. it is also the third book of his i read this year (the others were: amnesia moon and motherless brooklyn), and it's by far the best of the three. it's nostalgic and analytical at the same time... it's a compelling account of how culture and privilege mask the nuances of race... it's an extremely affectionate examination of music-- what music does, how music circulates, why music moves you... it's a confession as well as a fable... and finally, it is fundamentally personal-- not neccessarily to provide a "a window into one's soul," but as a record of how the fabric of an era is woven into an individual. this intimacy is very powerful, and proved to be a remarkably personal experience for me as a reader, as well...
10. cramped urban sports demand a peculiar element of fantasy. unlike traditional playground sports, where one might fancy oneself a "michael jordan" anytime a skillful two points are scored, fantasy becomes integral to the game. the poor kids huddled around my neighborhood rowhomes are under obligation to imagine that the seven-foot-tall wooden bucket they've planted along the sidewalk is a "regulation net." they must skillfully weave a cohesive whole out of a series of fragmented gestures-- a stop-and-go of passing cars and scornful adults. it takes a strange breed of juvenile integrity to even bother with such a thing. the kids are dreaming all around me, but not because they want to dream...
9. my cat (arthur) and my roommate's cat (dwayne) are actually getting along.
instead of eating one another alive, they wander around the house together, pausing to explore bodily smells or to compete for my affection. plus, dwayne can clearly kick arthur's ass (but is indifferent to any temptation to do so), which is creating a paradoxical state of good behavior, and making my arms and legs less of a scratching post...
8. kane quaye is an artist from ghana who specializes in making coffins shaped like actual objects. his mercedes benz coffin is currently on display at the place that pays my bills (part of the "african art, african voices" exhibit currently on display). the evocations of this sort of thing are endless, and i won't ruin its impression by providing my own.
7. george michael bluth provides just the right sprinkle of humanism into the thick soup of arrested development, thereby adding a strange balance to the show's occasional nastiness, and keeping things from becoming too smug and obnoxious.
6. part of the deal with my new as-of-yet-not-fully-moved-in-roommate, is that i get to keep my studio (all to myself), which for the past two years has been split with another person. as a result, i have sprawled out, littering the whole room with bits of cut paper, and gotten (increasingly) to work.
5. another pleasant offshoot of having a roommate who isn't officially "around" is all the private time i'm afforded, during which i can sing scott walker songs out loud to my cat whenever i please.
"...yoooooo've become a strange-uhhhhhh..."
(furthermore, sometimes i don't even sing scott walker songs per se, as opposed to "songs in the style of scott walker." i did a rather heart-felt rendition of the jackson 5's "i'll be there" in the style of scott the other day... which was greeted with blazing feline indifference, as could be expected...)
4. the popularity of animal collective strikes me as an encouraging cultural decision. i can't really remember a time when a record as "avant-garde" as sung tongs enjoyed as widespread popularity. i'm tempted to say the boredoms' chocolate synthesizer... but i think that's just because they managed to wander on in to lollapalooza as a result of it. and sung tongs is damn good, too. more accessible than here comes the indian, but more distinct as well. the album feels fresh to me-- not confined to many of the tropes of "noise" or "new" music, and psychedelic in a way that doesn't immediately reek of spaceman 3. i'll also add that it's nice to see a band riff off of pet sounds and come up with something other than the umpteenth wanna-be elephant 6 record...
3. my roommate's dvd set of the first-and-only season of freaks and geeks is forcing me to slowly re-live every instance of abject humiliation that once marked my adolescent life. which inevitably raises the quizzila-esque question:
which of these poor specimens "would i be" were i a freaks and geeks cast member???
yes yes, y'all... for his love of groucho marx... for his hammy, over-eager attempts at wittiness (not unlike this very-insistent post you are currently reading)... for his strange way of translating inexperience and adolescent fear into a series of curmudgeonly old-man-isms... and finally, for his short stature... i am neil, ladies and gentlemen, for better or for worse.
2. one of the most well-advertised graffiti bandits of fishtown has chosen for himself the tag of "porn." that's right, porn. his tag name is PORN. sometimes "porn" is punctuated with an inverted pentagram (hey, why the hell not???) god bless you, mr. porn... this post goes out to you.
1. finally, i've refrained from my usual "review" style entry on this one, but jonathen lethem's the fortress of solitude is one of the best books i've read this year. it is also the third book of his i read this year (the others were: amnesia moon and motherless brooklyn), and it's by far the best of the three. it's nostalgic and analytical at the same time... it's a compelling account of how culture and privilege mask the nuances of race... it's an extremely affectionate examination of music-- what music does, how music circulates, why music moves you... it's a confession as well as a fable... and finally, it is fundamentally personal-- not neccessarily to provide a "a window into one's soul," but as a record of how the fabric of an era is woven into an individual. this intimacy is very powerful, and proved to be a remarkably personal experience for me as a reader, as well...
