Hello, dear readers I was going to wait until tomorrow night to inform you of my various exploits but there's been a crisis of gargantuan proportions. I had two essays to write in about four days and now my life feels empty and hollow. Well to not put too fine a point on it, I'm really bored. However, I am also eagerly anticipating tomorrow night for it will be my first ever date! Woo, indeed. As a small child, slightly bigger child and even bigger teenager I was not the best with relations concerning the opposite sex due more to shyness and awkwardness than anything else. This changed, however, thanks to a chance meeting with a Christian nymphomaniac during the first week of Uni (ah, the irony) but since then due to the insane sexual politics of such a tightly knit institution (accompanied by my massive libido and general lack of patience) I've never been on a date with the ladies I would later call girlfriend. But now that is all going to change tomorrow night. I have no idea what to do and am feeling slightly nervous. Luckily, my sister is very cool and sent me a few pointers. As a consequence of this proposed date, which took two hamfisted attempts to arrange, everything now is a lead up to tomorrow. hence, the supreme boredom with this state of waiting. So now that the essays are finished, life has descended into watching too much Season 3 Buffy (I love Harry Groener) and listening to Armed Forces and Girls Can Tell. Well this has been pointless yet slightly cathartic. You should try out this blogging lark, dear readers, it's the new therapy! Freud eat our heart out.
The psychology of the recently besmirched man is a strange thing. Take for example, an extremely inebriated gentleman decked in a rather heavy musketeer costume who is accosted by a not paricularly attractive stranger and asked whether he likes Joy Division. Upon hearing this, the gentleman becomes rather excited and wishes to leave the noisy environment to discuss Ian Curtis and the stranger takes this as an invitation to his room. Upon arriving at the gentelman's parlour, the stranger proceeds to attack his CD collection with infrequent bursts of "Oooh Pavement" and "Have you got the new Elliott Smith" (Sadly, the gentleman can no longer enjoy that bard's particular oeuvre at the moment due to his recent hysterical martyrdom). The drunk gentleman sees this as a sign of good taste and breeding and therefore goes in for some romantic interaction. This results in a large haddock jumping out of his sink and landing upon his face. Or so he thinks but on second inspection, this is the stranger's absolutely abysmal kissing technique. Now we reach a juncture: most rational theorists would say "Politely ditch the fish monster and go back to the party for fun". However, the gentleman takes the wrong decision, due to hormones, loneliness, and general inebriation, of continuing this weird ritual praying for a miracle to occur to remove the obnoxious beast from his dwelling. Thankfully, this occurs on her own initiative and the only real fallout is a n itchy rash on the gentleman's upper lip and the memory of the entire awful experience. Sadly that gentleman was me and, yes, my lip still hurts. I believe that there are two facts that rankle me most about this: (a) it may be known around college soon enough that I engaged in tonsil tennis with the Creature of the Black Lagoon or (b) the fact that later that night, I met an extremely pretty and nice girl who certainly had a superior technique than most in the kissing department despite being sloshed on cider. When will men ever learn that they can think with their heads rather than their genitals when it comes to women? Is it too much to ask for a little patience? In my case, the answer is "We'll have to work on it a bit more next class". More drinking tonight. I hope that I don't have to deal with any repurcussions of last night that are in the least bit negative for I know that in my weakened state that I won't be able to cope and will descend into incoherent shouting, pointing and falling over. Never mind. Life is good on the whole. I hope it's the same for you sweet readers. My blessing upon you.
Oh my god... this is why I love the internet. Apparently, it was a bonustrack on the Japanese edition on Rockin' the Suburbs which sadly costs 33 of your Yankee dollars to procure! Tora, Tora, Tora a hole in my wallet why don'tcha? Ahh, the punning. If you don't know why I'm so excited it's because you didn't spend most of your teenage years completing every character on the wonderful Bust-A-Groove on the PsOne. Yes, I was easily pleased... and it was "The Bestest Game in the Bestest World". The game had pretty fantastic characters such as the aliens called "Capoeira", the gas mask wearing "Gas-O", the hardcore gangsta "Strike" (well not really... but he does get in a firefight with the police at the end of his story), and my personal favourite "Hiro", the Travolta wannabe. Ah, the penny drops. Yes, it appears that Ben has covered Hiro's theme tune - The Natural Playboy. "I left my family for the secretary". The dirty whore. Sadly, my computer has a grudge against me the size of something that is very big and won't let me download it. So as I lie here in this torment of wanting to hear what may be the greatest cover of all time I must also leave you dear readers for I have not much else to say. Goodnight sweet peons. Goodnight.
Well, I finally managed to watch the last three quarters of Say Anything (I'm actually not sure if my post on that particular problem made on to the blog - the laptop might have been in one of its moods). It has to be the greatest movie of the 80s and the greatest Romantic Comedy of all time. Screw When Harry Met Sally and screw Nora Ephron. I love WHMS and especially Billy Crystal (Chris Rock as the new MC at the Oscars? *cough* Letterman *cough*) but they have nothing upon the charm, insight and plain wonderfulness of Cameron Crowe's creation. The part of the movie where Diane and Lloyd are lying in their first post-coital embrace in his car and she asks why he's shivering. All he replys is that it's because he's happy. I thought that didn't happen to anybody else. It's such a small detail and it is so perfect that I almost cried which is usually a good sign although the scene where River Phoenix and Judd Hirsch's family start singing along to "Fire and Rain" when they first meet Martha Plimpton at Christine Lahti's birthday party in Running on Empty edges it as heartbreakingly wonderful scenes go. Lumet is a far too unappreciated presence in cinema. Speaking of shivers I seem to have them myself due to the supreme cold infesting the town at the moment. I may have the flu. I have decided that this sucks because I'm ill but good because I have a reason not to go out on a hideously stupid idea of a bar crawl tomorrow night. I believe that the 7 pounds that I just spent on the R1 edition of The Sure Thing is a far superior use of my money. Ted Leo's album, The Tyranny of Distance arrived the other day and is superb in every degree. A thrity year old branded as a punk by many singing of Daedalus and Telemachus ("My Vien Ilin") and doing an unbelievablely wonderful pastiche of The Boss's lyrical style with an almost complete lack of rhythm section ("Timorous Me"). It's impossible to explain it's wonderfulness but it can be seen to stem from the sheer charisma of Leo, both in his superb range and wonderful knack for a densely layered pop tune. Managed to uncover this somewhere... why is my hard drive so small? Why can I not listen to this before it disappears into the ether? Why? It's a great stop-gap until Sheer Heart Attack finally has it's price reduced. I must hear "Brighton Rock". I simply must! Well on that note of desperation, I shall sign off before my fevered brow becomes slightly more fevered. I hope that none of you are feeling the same way. May you have perfect health, dear readers, so that you may continue to drag yourselves to the computer simply to see my banal opinions and meaningless subjects. Political debate is not my forte...
Damn this procrastinating husk that I inhabit! Yes, my inability to do any form of work towards my degree is beginning to escalate at a stupid rate. This results in my day being meticulously planned for maximum efficiency so that I can work during the day and maybe have a little play at night. The day, however, begins slowly degenerating when I wake up at about 11, sit playing computer games in my underwear, check my progress in Sunday League and Kingdom of Loathing, read all my favourite web comics, buy CDs that I don't need and perhaps pick up a book before throwing it against the wall in disgust. Lather, rinse, repeat. Sigh. So where is Mr Motivator and his fluorescent fannypack when I need him. Probably, relaxing in his hot tub on some beautiful Greek Isle... or in Camden. Whatever, he's still a bastard. Actually, I've just visited his hideously coloured website and apparently he has a dog called Ninja. I think someone needs to call the RSPCA... although it's not quite as bad as naming your child Lourdes... or Brooklyn... or Ninja. So farewell, my dear readers, as afflicted as I may be I will never leave you. You read it. You can't unread it! Ah, how I love Maurice LaMarche. Tripping the Rift must be a classic!
Craig Charles has just put 'I Want You' by Marvin Gaye on the radio and I am truly stunned at its absolute wonderfulness. All is forgiven, Craig. Yes, even your awful, awful stand up routines and poetry. The track even almost manages to surpass 'Just to Keep You Satisfied' in its brilliance and it has suddenly become clear to me why Todd Rundgren included the song as one of his live staples. Not really good enough to result in my paying the extortionate fees asked for a couple of alternate versions of the "Deluxe Edition". Why do they release these useless collections that wish to only impart more cash from the Baby Boomer CD buyers with too much cash and too little brains to realise that Peter Frampton wasn't relevant in the first place let alone now. Oooooh, three alternate vocal versions of the same song! Result!
Although, there are exceptions to the rule such as the Deluxe Edition of 'New Miserable Experience' by the Gin Blossoms that includes live performances, rare EPs, covers.. the veritable works. The Legacy Edition of 'Sweetheart of the Rodeo' and 'Second Winter' look superb as well. Shame that they require imparting twenty quid for your troubles. Mmmmm, a live version of 'Tobacco Road' by Johnny Winter. I'm drooling at the thought of it. Maybe when I get my degree... although that's not stopping me from buying a couple of cheap Marvin Gaye albums off Amazon! 'Here, My Dear' for a fiver. That, my friends, is a bargain.
Who'd Win a Bitch Fight between Priscilla Presley and Diana Krall?
Today's post is a little Elvis orientated due to my managing to retrieve my copy of Armed Forces by the rather wonderful Mr Costello (Two Little Hitlers has to one of my favourite songs ever) and watch my copy of Bubba Ho-Tep for the first time a couple of days ago. Firstly, Bubba Ho-Tep is magnificent. When I read reviews of it I was worried that the reviewer had been blinded by the force of pure charisma that is Bruce Campbell, the man who, despite only appearing in it for a minute, made Spiderman 2 a bearable experience. I was also rather weary after viewing the director Don Coscarelli's filmography that includes Phantasm and Beastmaster III. I'd been disappointed before with critically acclaimed independent ventures such as Roger Dodger. However, Bubba Ho-Tep is wonderful in every department. The story is sharp without any unnecessary padding, such as the Mummy's story, which allows it to become a vignette of sort; a character study of Elvis in his twilight years. Campbell is supported brilliantly by Ossie Davis (who I loved in Get on the Bus) who plays a black JFK who lives surrounded by models of his own assassination and in constant fear of LBJ coming to finish the job he started. There are the natural schlock horror conventions but this is kept to a minimum and mainly replaced with a mixture of pathos, slapstick and the bittersweet. The self-knowing one liners that could have littered and ultimately ruined the script are kept to a perfect amount and are delivered in such a natural fashion that you can't help but smile where you would normally groan. Coscarelli does a great job reigning in his natural impulses and except for the hilariously erratic scene where the scarab attacks Elvis the film doesn't ever seem forced. Actually thinking about it now I do find myself thinking of moments in the film and just marvel at their ingenuity and often their compassion as well. I usually say that Elvis Costello is the true King of Rock n' Roll but maybe I was wrong... On the other hand, my wonderful sister has given me the task of thinking of my ten favourite Buffy episodes for a marathon that we're having over the summer. As any fan of a show with around four excellent series this is quite the task. From the first season you have to include "The Puppet Show" not only because of a certain randy Demon Hunter but also the wonderful ending. Was it avant-garde? Moving on to Season 2 there has to be "Ted" in honour of the sadly missed John Ritter, "Innocence" for the return of Brian Thompson (and the hilarity of his death), "Passion" although that may require a truckload of Kleenex, and "Becoming Part 2" for obvious reasons. Season 3 brings us to "Band Candy" with the hilarious regressed Principal Snyder, "Lover's Walk" my personal favourite and "The Zeppo" because that was the episode that turned me into a diehard fan forever. Season 4 has "New Moon Rising" vital for my current emotional state. And then finally there's "The Body" the best 45 minutes of television ever. Fact. I wish Joss had been experimental more often. There's a large formal gathering this evening that I must sit on my butt in preparation for so i must now bid you all adieu. Maybe I will have some more tales for you tomorrow!
Apologies for the lack of posts lately but, to be frank, my life at the moment has been dry of any real significance or imagination. I was, however, mildly interested in about an incident in Australia regarding Young Liberals posing as Greens to sway them to vote liberal and the resulting backlash. Yes, Ms Fits is brilliant. I wish I could swear like her. Another interesting issue at the moment has to be Operation Clark County and the resulting backlash that has been said by some commentators to have led to a 3% swing in favour of Dubya and the Democrats losing Ohio. Grand sweeping statements time again... but it certainly is interesting. Although, maybe not so much for Ian Katz. That is all. Hopefully, there will be more when my brain begins to function after my week without snacking. The article I suffered so much for sucks so far. Damn.
Just to say I'll be posting mp3s on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. They'll come down after a week so get them while you can. This blog is not about ripping off artists but showing people how wonderful they are. However, if those artists or their representatives don't want their music distributed in such a fashion then they can contact me and I will remove their material. Love, luck and lollipops, The Finalist x