Revival

Finally jammed on the guitar today again for the first time in over a month. Finally can call it "jammming" since Eric and I played a couple two-guitar songs, and they worked. Not gonna say what they were, since I'm not that proud of my indefensibly gratuitous interest with Pop-Punk Alternative Rock. If I were to ever start a band, I'd want it to be more along the lines of Alternative Indie Funk-Rock-Blues Pop. Maybe a little occasional Punk or Hard Rock. But no Grunge. Oh God, never Grunge. Go away, please, Mr. Grunge, and Mr. Post-Grunge.

Back to reality though, I watched School of Rock today and I loved it. Yes, that's right. I loved a stupid Jack Black movie. Why? Because of the rock, man! It inspired me to learn as much as I could about the history of rock. Because rock is awesome. So I spent the rest of the day reading all about rock from http://www.allmusic.com, which is a great site that tells you everything you need to know about artists and genres and shit. They seriously have a bio of almost every artist that I have in my 17+ gigs of music. So I re-categorized all my music, and learned the differences between Alternative Rock and Indie Rock, Ska and Third Wave Ska Revival, Hard Rock and Heavy Metal. I know Bob Dylan's original name was Robert Allen Zimmerman, and that the phenomenon known as Britpop was begun in the 90's by a band called Blur. The Ramones were the first ever Punk band, and Guns N' Roses brought Hard Rock back to its roots in the 80's when rock was beginning to consume itself with glamour and excess. Oh, and The Ataris are not Punk. They are Punk-Pop.

I also sort of figured out the major parts of rap too, how the Beastie Boys belong in Hip-Hop, Kid Rock is Rap-Metal, DMX is Hardcore Rap, 2Pac is Gangsta Rap, Chingy is Dirty South, and Dr. Dre pioneered his own sound called G-Funk.

I divied up my jazz collection too into Swing, Big Band, Dixieland, Bebop, Post-Bop, and Fusion. It's not all just "jazz" now.

The only stuff I haven't really figured out is my electronica collection, since I don't really give a shit about the differences between Techno and House, although apparently, the former was pioneered in Detroit, and the latter was pioneered in New York/Chicago.

And all of that is off the top of my head. I learned a lot today.

Screw the math test on Tuesday.

[Edit]: I just differentiated my classical music into Modern, Baroque, Romantic, Impressionist, and Classical. Maybe I WILL get around to figuring out my electronica, too. Or maybe I will still just continue to hate that genre too much.

Ah, Facking Shat

Fucking shit. I just got a notice from the ITA people that Universal has filed a complaint against my IP for sharing 21 Grams. I totally deleted it last week after watching it, but I guess that's not enough. I am now OFFICIALLY a copyright infringer, since I have now been caught. Well you know what I say?

Hah! Bring it on, bitches. *scoffing laugh*

Well, this notice did serve to remind me that I completely forgot to review 21 Grams, and the two movies I watched last night, Along Came Polly and The Life of David Gale, so here it goes:

21 Grams:
- Structure. That's what this movie is really all about. It'd be kind of a mundane, melodramatic, almost soap opera like story of organ donors and heart transplants, and hit and run murderers, and lost children, but for the unique structure the movie is told in. It's even more hard to follow than Memento. At least in Memento, everything was still linear, but just linear in the backwards direction. With 21 Grams, there seems to be no rhyme or reason between the first scene and the next, except to slowly unravel and reveal the story with constant jumps back and forth in time. It's effective, though. The structure (and some good acting by Benicio del Toro, Sean Penn, and Naomi Watts) make the movie more than it really would have been otherwise though.

Along Came Polly:
- Jennifer Aniston is hot.

The Life of David Gale:
- Kevin Spacey is still my favorite actor, despite an ending that I had predicted about 40 minutes into the movie, when Gale gets cornered on a talk show by the fact that he can't prove that an innocent person has died on death row before. It was just so easy to see, I don't feel bad that this review might be slightly "spoiling" the ending. The movie itself does a good enough job of that. Spacey is still awesome, though.

The Big Nothing at the ICA

Spent the afternoon at the ICA (Institute of Contemporary Art). A few coolstuffs; however, a disappointing amount of junk, too. Definitely lesser of an experience than their last exhibit in February. Will have to go back to look at the three or four cool things again, though, with my Moleskine notebook. Was inspired by thoughts unwritten that have then since been forgotten. No apologies for such artistic plagiarism either; I've long since resigned myself to the notion that there's no such thing as an original thought anymore. I have no remorse for acknowledging influences and inspirations. They were really good. Two good ones with two dichotomatic ideas: angst and infinity. One mundane and one extraordinary. Both struck me. I want to start making films again. Goddamn mom never let me bring my camera to school. Thinking in fragments today. Three last, tangentially related thoughts:

- Green is my favorite color, followed closely by a very deeply rich orange color I saw in one of the pieces at the museum today.

- Girls who hang out in modern art museums are hot. (But you're pushing it when you chatter like that. Please come by yourself next time.)

- I need a more portable Moleskine that I won't forget at home.

"How Bizarre" by OMC

Brother Pele's in the back
Sweet Zina's in the front
Cruising down the freeway
In the hot, hot sun

Suddenly red blue lights
Flash us from behind
Loud voice booming
"Please step out onto the line"

Pele breathes words of comfort
Zina just hides her eyes
Policeman taps his shades
Is that a Chevy 69?

How bizarre
How bizarre
How bizarre

Destination unknown
As we pull in for some gas
Freshly pasted poster
Reveals a smile from the pack

Elephants and acrobats,
Lions snakes monkey
Pele speaks righteous
Sister Zina says funky

How bizarre
How bizarre
How bizarre

Ooh baby, (ooh baby)
It's making me crazy, (it's making me crazy)
Everytime I look around
Look around
Everytime I look around
Everytime I look around
Everytime I look around
It's in my face

Ringmaster step out
Says the elephants left town
People jump and jive
But the clowns have stuck around

T.V. news and camera
There's choppers in the sky
Marines, police, reporters
Ask where, for and why

Pele yells "we're outta here"
Zina says "right on"
We're making moves and starting grooves
Before they knew we're gone

Jumped into the Chevy
Headed for big lights,
Want to know the rest
Hey, buy the rights,

How bizarre
How bizarre
How bizarre

Ooh baby, (ooh baby)
It's making me crazy, (it's making me crazy)
Everytime I look around
Look around
Everytime I look around
Everytime I look around
Everytime I look around
It's in my face
It's in my face

Ooh baby, (ooh baby)
It's making me crazy, (it's making me crazy)
Everytime I look around
Look around
Everytime I look around
Everytime I look around
Everytime I look around
It's in my face

Ooh baby, (ooh baby)
It's making me crazy, (it's making me crazy)
Everytime I look around
Look around
Everytime I look around
Look around
Everytime I look around
It's in my face

There's nothing like blasting one of the biggest one-hit wonders to ever grace 90's radio to spice up a weekend. Bring back OMC!

The Music Never Stops

Thanks to the incredible, illegal, and immoral technology we have available, I now possess ridiculously massive amounts of mp3's by the following artists:

The Beatles (16 albums)
Led Zeppelin (9 albums)
Pink Floyd (15 albums)
The Pixies (10 albums)
R.E.M. (15 albums)
U2 (8 albums)

And the piracy continues. Arrr!

I Like Rock

I like pop
I like soul
I like rock
I like blues
I like jazz
I like folk
I like punk
I like rap
I like funk
I like disco
(But I never liked techno)

Reverse! Reverse!

I'm doing this whole thing all wrong. I gotta turn this shit around -- or else pretty soon I'll be like, whoa. G A N G S T A.

Insomnia Strikes, Part 1

I have failed to bring myself to sleep tonight. Perhaps I shall fairly soon after this post, or perhaps I will be awake for another couple of hours. I can't see Center City right now from my window. Philadelphia is shrouded in fog tonight. Even Huntsman Hall, just a block away, looks a little bit hazy and mysterious. It's an empty, lonely, lifeless building. I will never understand how these hardcore Whartonites can come to embrace such a building, such a culture, such a life. It's a sad and empty world out there only if you make it so. If life has taught me anything, it's that nothing can overcome human will. If God himself were to oppose mankind one day, I would like to think humanity would survive. That is the power of the human spirit. Holocaust survivors smile with a pure heart, without hatred for Nazis or anyone. They are filled with love, not sadness, madness, or anger. How beautiful is that?

The fog is growing thicker as the dawn approaches. Perhaps Huntsman Hall will disappear by morning. Life is incredibly mutable, people. It can be everything you want it to be, if you want it to be so. And it can be everything you don't want it to be, if that's what you turn it into. You just have to decide if you want what you want or not.

The little things make me happy. A sunny day. A good song. Finding treasure in trash. Fire flies. Just sitting around with friends. The shade from a nice tree. An ice cold Coca-Cola on a hot afternoon. Weekends. Taking pictures of things. Jesse Bear, my 15 year old teddy bear. Clean socks. Naps. Walking. Breathing. Shrimp pizza.

But do they add up to overcome the big things that make me sad?

Do I have an original thought in my head? My bald head. Maybe if I were happier my hair wouldn't be falling out. Life is short. I need to make the most of it. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I'm a walking cliché. I really need to go to the doctor and have my leg checked. There's something wrong. A bump. The dentist called again. I'm way overdue. If I stop putting things off I would be happier. All I do is sit on my fat ass. If my ass wasn't fat I would be happier. I wouldn't have to wear these shirts with the tails out all the time. Like that's fooling anyone. Fat ass. I should start jogging again. Five miles a day. Really do it this time. Maybe rock climbing. I need to turn my life around. What do I need to do? I need to fall in love. I need to have a girlfriend. I need to read more and prove myself. What if I learned Russian or something, or took up an instrument. I could speak Chinese. I'd be the screenwriter who speaks Chinese and plays the oboe. That would be cool. I should get my hair cut short. Stop trying to fool myself and everyone else into thinking I have a full head of hair. How pathetic is that. Just be real. Confident. Isn't that what women are attracted to? Men don't have to be attractive. But that's not true. Especially these days. Almost as much pressure on men as there is on women these days. Why should I be made to feel I have to apologize for my existence? Maybe it's my brain chemistry. Maybe that's what's wrong with me. Bad chemistry. All my problems and anxiety can be reduced to a chemical imbalance or some kind of misfiring synapses. I need to get help for that. But I'll still be ugly though. Nothing's going to change that.

--Charlie Kaufman

"Welcome To The Jungle" by Guns N' Roses

I just bought 60 Watt speakers for my laptop, the first set of speakers I've ever owned that came with a subwoofer. Just finished blasting "Welcome To The Jungle." I can not describe how great music sounds on speakers like this. Rock on.

"Bob Dylan 1965" Poster

There's nothing better than finding amongst the hallway trash a giant, black and white, larger-than-life sized poster of Bob Dylan in 1965, with a cigarette in his mouth and a harmonica around his neck. The creases and tattered edges just make it look that much more vintage. With that poster up on my wall, I have now officially fallen in love with my own room. Legalizing gay marriages may be the fight of today, but legalizing marriages between a man and a dorm room is going to be the fight of tomorrow, and I will be at the front lines of this battle. I love you, Room.

Huh?

I don't understand how monstrous cockroaches make it up to the 24th floor. I am confounded.

Otherwise, I love Hamilton College House. I love looking out my window and seeing the city. The lights at night are a beautiful sight. That sentence had a lot of rhyming. I love how everything is new, too. Our toilet is so white and clean.

In other news, I apparently have a Boston accent when I say the words "Boston" and "caught." Frank imitated me the other day, and told me I said them like "Bahhstin" and "cahht." I say every other word in the dictionary with Standard American English. Maybe that's what happens when you combine the Southern California tone (it's not really an accent) and the Texas drawl. You get Bahhstin.

I kind of wish I had the whole Boston accent, and not just those two words. It would make me more interesting. Accents are cool.

OMG DEREK FISHER OMG

OMG LAKERS OMG FOUR-TENTHS OF A SECOND OMG DEREK FISHER OMG LAKERS WON OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT JUST HAPPENED OMG HAHA TIM DUNCAN OMG FISHER OMG LAKERS ACTUALLY WON OMG THAT WAS THE BEST GAME EVER OMG LAKERS OMG FOUR-TENTHS OF A SECOND OMG OMG OMG

Connecticut

The part of Connecticut I'm staying in with Frank is extremely picturesque. There are hills and forests and grass everywhere, and we drive down little winding New England country roads. This is an incredible contrast to where I am from, Plano, Texas, which is the Levittown of the new millennium: flat land, straight 90-degree-angle roads, and rows and rows of endless factory-manufactured cookie-cutter houses that come in only three different colors, packed tightly together, with a grocery store and/or Starbucks at every major intersection. I guess that's picturesque too, in a creepy, bare, empty, Stanley Kubrick kind of way. I haven't even so much as seen a McDonald's here yet. Apparently the closest one is 4.3 miles away, in another town.

And that's what I love about Connecticut.

One of Those Long Ass Annoying Quizzes Nobody's Gonna Read, But Successfully Waste MY Time, Which is All That Matters

Last word you said: "Bye," after getting off the phone with Eric
Last song you sang along to: Who's Johnny by El DeBarge (yeah bad 80's music!)
Last person you hugged: Chrissy (sympathy hug - I still had four exams left at the time)
Last thing you laughed at: Kill Bill Vol. 2, when Uma ripped out that chick's eyeball
Last time you cried: A couple days before Spring Break, long story
What's in your CD player: Slow Motion Daydream by Everclear
What color socks are you wearing: White, Gold Toe
What's under your bed: Suitcase with winter sweaters, shoes, dust, possibly Donald, the local mouse
What time did you wake up today: 8:00 AM (I had an 8:30 exam)
Current taste: Sweet, carbonated cola
Current hair: Dry and weighed down by the day
Current annoyance: Dust on my fingers
Current desktop picture: Default blue (blank)
Current worry: Will I be able to move out all of my stuff successfully?
Current hate: Packing shit that I didn't realize I had to pack
Favorite physical feature of the opposite sex: Eyes that flash with life
Time you wake up in the morning: 10 am on a good day, noon on a bad day
If you could play an instrument, what would it be: Drums
Favorite color: Green (maybe)
Do you believe in an afterlife: No, but if I had to, it would be of the reincarnation type
How tall are you: 5'11"
Current favorite word/saying: "Fascinating..."
Favorite season: Autumn (maybe Summer)
One person from your past you wish you could go back and talk to: Hien Pham
Favorite day: Tomorrow
Where do you want to go: Paris, France
What is your career going to be like: As hassle-free as possible, so that I have time for real life
How many kids do you want: 2, a boy and a girl
What kind of car will you have: Porsche Boxter, convertible


[have you ever...]

Have you ever said "i love you" and meant it? Yes
Gotten in a fight w/your dog/cat/bird/fish, etc? The only pet I've ever owned was a turtle named Mike, and we got along famously
Been to New York? Yes, three or four times
Been to Florida? Yes, twice
San Diego, California? YES, more than I can count
Hawaii? No, but I'm working on it
Mexico? Yes, a couple times
China? Yes, three times (fourth is upcoming this summer)
Canada? Yes, quite a few times


[random]

Do you have a crush on someone? No, I don't think so
What book are you reading now? Ulysses by James Joyce
Worst feeling in the world? Wanting to throw up
What is the first thing you think of when you wake in the morning: "Did I oversleep?"
Future son's name: Forrest
Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? No, I make him sleep on the shelf
Are you a lefty, righty or ambidextrous?: Righty
College plans: Continue at the University of Pennsylvania
Piercings: None now, and most likely never


[ the extra stuff ]

Do you do drugs? No, nothing illegal
Do you drink? Only a couple of times in my life
Who are your best friends? Frank, Chandan, Catherine, and Eric (that's the order I met them in)
What kind of shampoo and conditioner do you use? Herbel Essences Shampoo, no conditioner
Who is the last person that called you? Eric Chen
Favorite number: 7, since the day of my birth
What type of automobile do you drive? 1990 Pontiac TranSport Minivan that looks and smells like shit
Have a job? No, but I used to work in the office at Karen Dillard's SAT College Prep School
Do you like being around people? No, but I like being around persons
Best feeling in the world? The relief of peeing after holding it in for a long time
Are you for world peace? Yes, but not if the cost is world war
Are you a health freak? No, I eat and do whatever I feel like
Do you have a "type" of person you always go after? The "female" type generally suffices
Want someone you don't have right now? Is that an offer?
Are you lonely right now? A little
Do you want kids? Yes


[ in the last 24 hours, have you?]

Cried: No
Bought something: A 20 oz. bottle of Coca-Cola Classic
Gotten sick: No
Sang: Yes, while cleaning my room
Said I love you: No, but I mumbled something about "You too" to my mom when she said "I love you" on the phone
Wanted to tell someone you like them: No
Met someone new: No, although I viewed some people new to me on thefacebook.com
Had a serious talk: Yes - several goodbyes were of a half-serious-or-more nature
Hugged someone: No
Kissed someone: No
Fought with your parents: No, but I did lie to them about when I was going to go to bed

Fascinating...

Thefacebook.com is absolutely fascinating. I'm sorry I was so skeptical and anti-facebook for so long. Although I still look down on the practice of trying to see how many friends you (think you) have, overall it is quite a powerful technology. For example, I decided to do a global search with NYU to find this girl I had sat next to on the bus from Boston to New York over Thanksgiving break. All I remembered was that her name was Maggie, she was a freshman from Louisiana, she liked Adaptation, and that she was studying film. I typed in her name, and *BAM* Maggie Langlinais. So I wrote her a short message. Isn't this facebook technology incredible?

At Age 4...

At age 4...success is...not peeing in your pants.

At age 10...success is...making your own meals.

At age 12...success is...having friends.

At age 16...success is...having a drivers license.

At age 20...success is...having sex.

At age 35...success is...having money.

At age 50...success is...having money.

At age 60...success is...having sex.

At age 70...success is...having a drivers license.

At age 75...success is...having friends.

At age 80...success is...making your own meals.

At age 85...success is...not peeing in your pants.

Sadness

For some reason, this last email sent out by my GA made me extremely sad. I still have two final exams to take, so I don't think I'm due, yet, for that "Goodbye, freshman year" retrospective-introspective post I'm obligated to write, but I just felt like sharing this email. It's wonderful and beautiful in my GA's own, quirky way...

And, finally, an absolutely fabulous greeting!

So, here we are: our tether's turned to seeming ether, our wick has willy-nilly burned to a nibly-nib, our credits are rolly polly on the river, and our sighs are pretty much sayonara. So, while they are striking our academic set -- that doesn't contain itself or Bertrand Russell or Jennifer Aniston -- and rolling out the Bonofied baccalaureate big top brouhaha, ask not how-why the study break bell tolls, for you know it tolls Gregariously!

Whether or not you are losing your feckless Friends 2-nite, whether or not you could care less about these funny-froed Friends, whether or not you find yourself decidedly post exam-paper rough-and-tumble or very much smack-dab encompassed by the study compass, consider hitting the VP Piano Lounge, say about 10pm, the hour of true Friendslessness. A bit of India will appear there as your tasty pot of gold, thanks to gravity's and the semester's rainbow.

wtfwtfwtfwtfwtfwtfwtf: Indian food - fabulous samosas, delicious Chicken Teeka, succulent Korma, bountiful Biryani, not to mention Paneer, Nan, Goolab Jamin!

wherewherewherewhere: VP Piano Lounge

whenwhenwhenwhen: 10pm, 2-nite

I wish you all continued success, peppered with surprise and curiosity.

Paul Grant,
Gregory College House

"Meh... I guess...?"

You're an INDIFFERENT AIM-ER. Meh.


What kind of AIM-er are you?
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Haiku

Feel the cool night air
Brushing against your soft skin?
So do the tree's leaves.

The moon looks so fucking beautiful outside my window right now, shining in the black sky like the flashing eyes of vivacity herself...

Oh, yeah, and I've added a commenting feature, for no particular reason. Use it freely, I guess.

Insomnomadic

It's been 42 hours and 15 minutes since I last slept in my bed.

Hien Pham

I wonder where Hien Pham is right now, and what he's doing. He was my very first best friend. We met in the 1st grade, and became friends because we were both Asian boys living in the Mexican ghetto. We were best friends until 7th grade, when he started wearing baggy pants and kissing girls, and running around with a Vietnamese gang called "Azn Pride" or "Azn Pryde" or something. He changed on me, while I stayed the same, and so he disappeared from my life. I wonder where he is now. I know so little about him post-elementary-school, that he could be studying Electrical Engineering at UCLA or be dead in a gutter in El Monte right now equally easily, in my mind. We used to have so much in common, too, like Power Rangers, being good at our multiplication tables (i.e., being Asian), wanting to learn Kung Fu -- and Vivian Huang.

She was beautiful, the most beautiful 2nd grader on the playground. I had a crush on her that I never told about to anyone, not even Hien. And then one day in 4th grade, I heard Vivian and Hien had feelings for each other, and I saw them hang out together more. I still liked her until the 5th grade though, and I still never told anyone. I was happy for Hien. She was beautiful, after all. But she moved in the 6th grade to Irvine or someplace like that, and I kind of got over it. I can barely recall what she looked like now, but she definitely doesn't seem as beautiful as she did when I would watch her on the playground playing on the swings. The swings were her favorite.

So I wonder if Hien remembers me, and what memories come up when he wonders where I am today. I wonder if he'd be surprised about where and who I am. He probably has no idea that I moved to Texas. He probably still thinks I'm in California. I don't even know if we would recognize each other if we passed each other on the street now, two adults, basically, living our adult college lives.

I miss the simple times. I miss you, Hien. You were my best friend.

How Shall I Express Myself Tonight?

Beautiful Overdrive

She's dressed up like a car crash--
the wheels are turning, but she's upside-down.
She took a green light to a pack of cigarettes;
but she doesn't smoke, doesn't even want to.

I took a red light into the gray morning,
trying my best to stay as faraway as you stayed close.
I slept with a friend who came back for more,
before I realized I had overstayed my while in exile.

Driving under the bridges that man built,
symbols of hope that there's somewhere to go to,
we saw the darkness of the underside.
She's my companion, just for tonight, like store-bought love.

You really shouldn't give me that drink, Barkeep;
There I go! not even old enough to hold
the glass in one hand (Bartender, please).
Set me free with the wine you gave Jesus (after three days in the ground).

You've got me by my guitar strings,
played melodically, beautifully by the shine in your eyes.
It's love--will you be there when it happens?
I'm blown over by every breeze and every short breath...

Yet there's a deepness to the purple tone of her voice,
carried away by the sounds of reality, and the mad day.
I can hear you--I can hear the sadness when I drive alone,
Driving another moonlight mile without you.

I'd rather not get stuck in the practical. The kids all say,
"What a drag." I'll sing for you if you want me to. (Or maybe I'll just turn up the radio.)
I knew happiness once, but once stolen, could never be found again...
Unless returned. The guitar just needs a little tuning. Scanning.

But now she's accelerating from the darkness in the night,
Moving just to stand still--what a girl--what a world.
She only sees one way out: got to cry without weeping,
talk without speaking, scream without raising your voice.

I'm only watching my own rearview, looking inside the walls of my skull.
I'm looking back in anger at the cortex of wiring;
since when did everything get so tangled up inside my head?
She knows it's too late as we're switching lanes, passing on by.

So I'm hanging around downtown by myself, thinking.
Why is here no? Here is no why? Is why no here? No here why is!
Streetcars and redlights float by like silence, the world turns,
as I sit still at a table on the sidewalk, a cup of coffee sipping me.

Looking up through the open moonroof is like watching the world disappear,
and staring God in the face. Pleased to meet you.
How are things running? Everything's going smoothly I take it.
Glad you could spare a minute. Thanks for everything.

All of it happens to us at this intersection of our lives,
where Highway 61 crosses Main Street; you pulled up your car
next to mine, red in your eyes, 3 a.m. Through tinted windows,
we understood how much we get wrapped up in the pleasures of the world.

But your light turns green, and I slide slowly back in silence like a shadow,
As the world passes you by, blurring lights off into the night,
A swirling starry night.

Look how they shine for you.