St. Ireneaus Cathedral Co.

In the spirit of Halloween:

It’s rancid in here.  I don’t even mind the bugs or spiders anymore; I let them crawl all over me.  No, it’s the rats who bite, who fester, who may or may not carry.  I haven’t tasted the fresh air outside since September.  Sometimes I wonder what it would smell like this time of the year, or sound like.  Dried crackling leaves, they jitter all over the streets.  Clear, fresh, cold air.  The colors… my God the colors.  Yellows that almost feel neon.  Reds that… reds.  Reds.  The Maney Drive side door drips red every day.  Every.  Single.  Day.  I get up at night with a candle sometimes just to prove it wrong, but never do.  My vision deceives me; I’ve learned to not trust Him.  It’s been weeks since our last near break-in, though.  That blood must be dried by now.  Just go have a look. I’ll tongue it a little bit, tell me for sure.  I know my touch hasn’t turned on me.  NO!  Can’t do that; what am I thinking?  Losing my fucking mind in here.  With these… misfits.  The lamp illuminates the dark rusty reds of the door.  They swirl downwards almost to a point.  The door is splintered in many spots, even the splinters look dipped in this red.  The fresh boards give some horizontal relief to the composition.  Dark soothing brown, warm.  My it is beautiful; a piece of mixed-media art.  An old wooden door, some dilapidated ceder 4 by 4s, and human blood.  Walking back to my “room” I notice a crucifix laying face down below me.  Why would this still be here?  I pick it up and turn it over.  He’s in perfect condition.  No scratches or chips or nicks or dents.  I walk to the nearest marble I can find.  Slamming the long end down, I drive the cross into the bap station over and over again; it does not break.  I pocket it, to the inner, and continue on my way.  We’re staring into dire straights here.  Oblivion.  Donkey and Chelsea got into it about a week ago.  Donkey pulled out his fire axe, Chelsea pulled out her little LPD Standard Issue and that was the end of that.  I watched the whole thing happen.  He dropped immediately, he had to’ve been dead before he hit the ground.  For good measure, or because she’s fuckin’ nuts, Chelsea decided to put another four into his skull and face while he laid motionless.  The flash of the piece ignited her face and I saw that day a terror in Her I have yet to see in the outside world, where terror reigns.  Our generator is running low on fuel.  We stopped running the lights, the few lights in this place, about 3 weeks ago.  Days after the last close-call.  All it powers now is the radio transmitter/receiver that’s been here since before me; we’ve got Her set to 28.01MHz.  Two days ago desperate calls came.  We did nothing but sit and listen.  A suburb to the Northeast had apparently become overrun, not that I care.  They pleaded for anyone who heard to come and help.  I specifically remember one woman saying: “Hurry!  There are 12..13 outside… give me the Gun!!  NOW!  Giv..” then a loud pop.  In my chest I felt it, she killed herself.  I told myself she didn’t all day yesterday, but she did.  I have the last and only First-Aid Kit which is beginning to worry me.  Thinking of hoofing it on my own.  God help me, if you’re not Dead.

-Sonny

The Problem With Wikipedia.

From XKCD.com – a free webcomic.

Hahaha… oh man.

-Sonny

Farm Animal Food For Thought.

I’m pissing at the urinal at First Ave; actually it’s more like a trough.  As Dotson Rader says in Up Against the Wall! someone’s scrawled “fuck Grayson Kirk” across the stucko in front of me.  It is dark, like any old nightclub’s privy I suppose.  The opening band’s version of familiar post 2000 “rock” is seeping through the walls.  Louder only for the split second when the door is open.  Muffled.  Then blaring.  Muffled, then blaring.  In a mess of bumbling steps and twisting guts I hear the noise of two drunken idiots blasting their way through the all-dude crowd behind me.  “Here we go… Jesus…” I’m thinking.  Little does Mr. Busier-than-shit-Green-Print-Hoodie know he’ll be tossed out in about 20 minutes from now.

Flashing forward. I’m standing outside smoking with familiar faces when he and his drunken friend are arguing with Security.  Can’t hear exactly what’s being said.  I think the asshole who throws around the term “sell-out” like candy is allowed to re-enter; Mr. Green-Hoodie is not, however.  Time will tell if they split the chains tying their hips together like farm animals.  Time I don’t have, because my cigarette is done and it’s cold as hell outside.

Back to the pisser.  These two come plowing their way in through at least 3 or 4 18+ males who don’t even utter an offended “what the hell?” back.  Stand up for yourself man.  One kicks open a stall door, I only hear this, don’t see it.  He can’t hold his liquor.  Either that, or he’s come down with a dreadful headcold and stomach flu since entering the building.  Now, this guy’s vomiting soul is drowning out the better than shit, but still not good, post-2000 “rock” music.  Until the door swings open, then the power-chords of “Cold Hard Nights” finally reclaim their territory; only to lose it quickly again.  His friend is thin as hell, shaved head, sickly face.  The kind of guy who gets away with fucking under age girls because he’s not fat and middle aged.  And pens in the ears.  Pens in the ears probably helps.  He squirms up next to me, wobbling like a full-bodied bobble head figure.  He stares into the Green First Ave. flyer taped to the wall.  One of many.  Scrolling down, his eyes must have been glancing for the first band to talk shit about.  Not only because he’s just that type of guy (he probably hates more music than he enjoys), because he wants to prove some sort of drunken point to me and the other three guys emptying the beer/water/whiskey/milk out of our systems.  Finally he see’s his chance.  “Atmosphere… aagghh.. (belch).. Atmosphere fuckin’ sucks”.  He looks to his left, away from me, at another guy while he says it.  His target simply stares straight ahead.  “Do you rhyme?”, I ask immediately.  Not much to think about with that Q, it’s either a yes or a no; but he still thinks HARD about this for some time.  He finally replies with a straight “no, I don’t”.  I told him if he did he’d get absolutely murdered by Sean.  He doesn’t necessarily disagree with me.  I ask what type of hip-hop he likes, he says he doesn’t like any other stuff; which is when his grand fuckin’ statement to the world comes out in a desperate manner: “I used to listen to Atmosphere.  Until they started… sellin’ their shit at Target.  Fuckin’ sell-outs”.  At this I could only laugh and polish off my tall Red Stripe.  Ha!  Immediately after his statement he turns and walks out, I’m pretty sure without zipping up his pants.  Wow.  And you’re not a “sell-out” because you’ve got pens in your ears; is that how this whole thing works?  And someone who’s refused to make more money by denying offer after offer from numerous major labels is a sell-out?  Someone who runs their own local label, with their friends, to put their own records out themselves is a sellout?  “Wait up!”, his puking buddy exclaims as I’m putting my shit away.  He runs after him like a toddler catching up to his Father.  Sometimes all I can do is laugh.

-Sonny

Me.

Yeah, the child in the mirror was homely
So he learned early on how to switch into low-key
Little person, observant and accurate
Grew the skills to argue and the passion to back it with
Kick over the blocks just to rebuild them
‘Cause mom and pop used to pop, sound familiar?
Daddy had to leave, but Mama kept hurting
So we stepped up to help be an anger and a burden
And right around the same time
Started noticing girls, but they wouldn’t pay him any mind
And if they ever did, he got nervous
You should of seen him practice on his hand for his first kiss
Even though he was too young to hunt and gather
Hungry puppy had to learn how to front and swagger
It didn’t matter, it was all self-esteem
At 16, you only needed one on your team
And mom and dad was never getting back together
So he was on some “Baby, we gonna make it last forever”
Basically married right out of high school
Five years of getting high and fighting at a drive-thru
And when he hit 21, they made a son
But on his 22nd birthday, the relationship was done
Now he’s got a best friend instead of a wife
But he feels like he stole the best years of her life
After that, it was one co-dependant to the next
A lot of love, a lot of hate and a little bit of great sex
Self-learning in between the self-loathing
Strangled in a cycle, can’t feel yourself choking
Some of them would overlap, some of them would double-back
None of them deserved to be exposed to all the trouble that he posed
Strike one? Not even out of fear
He don’t even do rough sex, you bite him and he’s out of here
Make no mistake he puts the man in manipulate
And he’s attracted to the women that reciprocate
Y’all can kick karma ’till it’s getting late
Until Mama’s little drama is the topic of the big debate
And now a days the confidence is off the page
‘Cause women are attracted to that clown on the stage
He’s only in town for a handful of hours
But Repunzel want to come down and dance in the flowers
Want to make a smile? want to make a laugh?
Want to make up for the mistakes in the past?
Want to act like he doesn’t know better
If payback’s a bitch he’ll be in debt forever
Insecure, impatient
Temporary gratification, self-validation
That’s what its made of it’s all true
And it’s the only reason that he’s even talking to you

You can try to fix my broken wings
You can know all the words to the songs I sing
But you don’t need to know what’s wrong with me
Unless you think you’re gonna come home with me

-Slug (Atmosphere)

A Jackolantern Schwinn.

I’m about to go on a hoodie, gloves, and jacket wearing bike-ride.  The cold is coming.  The snow is coming.  Seriously though, who doesn’t like Fall??  The leaves here are beautiful.  Not as pretty as up North, but still beautiful.  It’s sunny outside right now.  All blue, not a spec of cloud, ‘cept maybe in the Western horizon.  Not sure yet what I should listen to.  But I have discovered recently that my very large headphones make for great ear-muffs as well as music deliverers.  My Dad gave me this bike he’s had for slightly over 20 years now.  It’s this old-ass Schwinn.  Handle bars that swoop up and out, eventually curving to sit perpendicular to the rider.  The complete opposite of mountain bike handle bars.  I love that thing.  She was probably so high tech in her day; one of the pioneers of a 10 speed (or more) bicycle.  I don’t ride a bike like it’s some sort of statement though; I’ll leave that to the Uptowners.  No idea what I’m going to be for Halloween, it’s looking to be getting too late.  Something REALLY controversial… It’d be rad to go as an abortion, but how the hell would one pull that off?  I’ve wanted to get a group of Ten together for years now, and go as bowling pins.  You know, walk in one big triangle everywhere.  I’ll say this much… two most popular costumes this year: women=Sara Palin, men=The Joker (obviously the Ledger version).  Both of those will be completely overblown and overdone.  Oh well.  It happens every year.  Excited for Local H tomorrow at First Ave.  I’ve been wanting to see them there for years.  Got Astonishing X-Men in the mail yesterday.  If Ellis can pull this off well, this is the best usage of Globalization in X-Men since Morrison’s “World Tour” arc.  I just realized that Chapter 5 in Watchmen is completely symmetrical.  Pg. 1 is the mirror of the last page, page 2 is the mirror of the second to last page, etc.  Awesome.  Nothing here of use, or interest for anyone… of course.  Shit- I’m off.

-Sonny

Incognito Preview.

-Sonny

Sting/PJ/Dan – Axis America (and comics).

The most amazing thing about Daniel Johnston, besides the fact that he’s Daniel Johnston and has lived the life he has, is that he somehow figured out a way (or stumbled upon) to make some of Sting’s Police lyrics actually cool.  In his song “Daviniere”, which just popped up today on random, Johnston “samples” a few instantly recognizable lines from “Every Breath You Take”.  It’s not nearly as lame as it sounds, or at all.  This self-described theft, funny enough, is the chorus of a song which includes the Johnston written line “I stole every riff I ever had”.  Ha.  I love that guy.  Been on a bit of a PJ Harvey kick lately, even though I only have one of her CDs.  Sweet mercy: some of her stuff is ultra badass.  Heavy heavy heavy; in a strange, not obvious type of way.  I know, I know, I’m living in the 90′s.  She made music post-2000 too you know…

There’s something insanely annoying about people writing/speaking in numbers, and people who ask and answer their own questions in their writing/speech.  As far as numbers: 1) I don’t think one is a good writer if he/she needs to use numbers to make points, and 2) it just seems lazy.  I’m reminded of Dick Cheney when it comes to asking and answering one’s own Q’s.  Do I think it’s a legitimate way to convey an idea?  Absolutely not.  Are there folks out there who do it all the time, non stop, 24/7?  Most definately.  Am I aware of what I’m doing right now?  I would fucking hope so.

Some comics talk.  Getting pretty damn excited for Incognito from the perfect combo of Sean Phillips (who paints almost all his stuff) and Ed Brubaker.  These two, wow.  There are combinations that last forever: Morrison and Quietly, now Ellis and Juan Jose Ryp or Templesmith, O’Neil and Adams, etc.  The Phillips/Brubaker combo is perfect.  And who wouldn’t like a story about an ex-super villain working in an office/cube environment stuggling to not murder everyone in sight??  Waiting on Astonishing X-Men, the third issue after Ellis took over from Whedon, probably report on that when I get it.  I went to the library today and scanned breifly through the “Graphic” section.  Nothing much there worth grabbing that I haven’t yet read.  I thought it was pretty rad that they had Garth Ennis’ “Welcome Back, Frank”, which is pretty damn explicit.

I did, however, get some random reading material though.  I’ve been interested in Essays and Essayists very much in the past 6 months or so.  Can’t really explain it.  I guess it comes down to these being a cool ass mixture of Internet-type rants, fiction, non-fiction/history, in an extremely personal tone.  Not that certain writers novels don’t have a personal tone to them, good ones do, some don’t; but in an Essay about life and culture the personality can REALLY shine.  “Do away with exposition!”, those essays tell us.  And they do.  The book I got is called The Outlaw Bible of American Essays. It features the likes of some of my favorite writers: Hubert Selby Jr., William S. Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, Jack Hirschman, Paul Krassner, John Sinclair, Susie Bright, Vonnegut, among others.  More on this book later.

The other book I picked up I stumbled upon in the “Just In” Section.  It’s a collection of short stories chronicling “New Alternative History Science Fiction”.  Every single one of these stories was copywritten in the year 2008, although not probably not every one was written in 2008.  Alternate history has intrigued the hell out of me since I read the epitome of Alternate History: Philip K. Dick’s The Man In The High Castle. Throw in a little Science Fiction Noir and holy crap I’m in love.  In the introduction, the Editor talks about Dick and his famous novel.  He also says that because Dick introduces a character in The Man In The High Castle who envisions an America where the Allies won WWII, he also could be credited with popularizing the idea of the “Multiverse” for the mainstream reader out there.  DC Comics owes a lot to Philip K. Dick and Alternate History Science Fiction.

-Sonny

Mumbai Moon Mission.

India has recently lauched its first mission to the moon.  The Chandrayaan 1 is a robatic, unmanned, space craft which will “orbit the Moon, compiling a 3-D atlas of the lunar surface and mapping the distribution of elements and minerals”.  This is being hailed as a historic moment for Indian History and Indian Science and Technology already.  Even if it fails, which looks unlikely, this story is yet another sign of the cultural and technological growth of India.  They ARE competing with the other Asian countries (in nearly every way), they ARE stepping closer towards becoming completely First World.  A key to the mission will be to seek out surface or sub-surface ice on the lunar landscape, particularly near the poles of the Moon.  Apparently the Indian Space Program’s newest probe is almost identical to probes already used by both Japan and China with one difference: the Indian probe was more cost efficient, cheaper.  It will also be investigating the elements present in and around the moon.  The BBC, however, ended their story with this:

Last month, China became only the third country in the world to independently carry out a spacewalk.  But the Indian government’s space efforts have not been welcomed by all.  Some critics regard the space programme as a waste of resources in a country where millions still lack basic services.

Here’s the link to the BBC Article.

-Sonny

TV On The Radio @ First Ave – 10/20.

Wow.  People use grandiose adjectives towards rock bands far to frequently.  Even with that disclaimer sitting there staring me in the face (and I know it to be true), it is hard for me to say after seeing TV On The Radio for my second time that they aren’t one of the best new bands to emerge out of the past decade.  Through three full length albums now, and some very quality EPs, the band has quickly become a favorite of many different lovers of music.  The Uptown Girls shake their asses and hair into a frenzy, especially over the new stuff.  The nerds and geeks of World of Warcraft direct their hands towards the sky as if they’re taking part in some South American religious experience.  The Gs nod their heads in smiley amusement.  The Rock and Rollers shout, jump around, and headbang to the tribal rhythms and percussion.  And then there are guys like me: infinite times uglier than the Uptown Girls, not nearly as cool as the Gs, not nearly as dorky as the MMORPG-ers, but just as floored.

Last night I stood in perfect satisfaction as I watched the night unfold before my often times too critical eyes.  Everything about it was right.  The crowd, the venue, the time, the season, the vibe, but most importantly the music.  I watched this band take another step closer to cementing a musical legacy that will send ripples through the waters of American (and global) Rock & Roll for a long time.  Somehow, even with the reputation they’ve built as being an absoutely astonishing studio band, the best way to experience TV On The Radio is live.  Individually they are talented, engaging, genuine; collectively they are totally engrossing, proficient yet spontaneous, and seemingly incorruptable.  The charisma this band has live is almost unparalelled in this day and age.  A sight to behold.

One would assume I’m exagerating more than the McCain campaign here (“threatening the very fabric of our democracy”).  To refute this, I submit these things: I am told often that I’m too critical of music and musicians (and I’ll admit sometimes, not always, I am), I listen to almost every single type of music on Earth (from Cajun/Zydeco and Dub to Classical and Jazz to Electronic and Hip-Hop to Blues and Rock, etc.), and this wasn’t the first time I’d seen the band.  Lots of times when people see a show for the first time, it’s so freshly overwhelming it CAN be overrated to some degree.  Subsequently, this flattens out or even falls off completely the second time around.  This wasn’t the case at all for me last night.  If anything, the 10/20/08 First Ave. show only VALIDATED the feelings and thoughts I had the first time around.  I’d suggest to anyone who likes any form of music to check this band out when/if you get the chance.

Anyone… which ties back into my Gs, geeks, and girls depiction of the crowd.  The band opened up with a very slow, deliberate version of “Young Liars”.  Which built piece by piece into a climax of distortion and a deneaumax of quiet harmony and peace.  “Dancing Choose” provided some get down incentive towards the end of the set.  The rock/funk of Sly & The Family Stone or even Prince came seeping through sporadically; the Noise-Rock and paranoia of bands like Fugazi or Husker Du hit hard just as sporadically but probably more frequently.  Songs like “Shout Me Out” or “Wolf Like Me” channeled the power-chord fury of Iggy & the Stooges or Patti Smith.  The oddities and beat oriented songs weren’t missing either, they played “Dirtywhirl” and “A Method”.  And of course, the sheer uniqueness, mixed with all these influences, of TV On The Radio was on full display during songs like “Staring At The Sun” (which they closed with), “Halfway Home”, “Golden Age”, and “Providence”.  This is a band with as many influences as types of people, personalities, and musical tastes can enjoy them.

-Sonny

Pop Cultural Decline For The Ages.

I’m getting pretty excited (as early as it is), and curious, to see TV On The Radio tonight.  My curiosity comes in the form of how exactly their material off Dear Science will sound live.  Last time I saw this band, many of the songs from both Cookie Mountain and Bloodthirsty Babes sounded very different from their studio counter-parts.  From my experience, the band is much more loose and free-flowing live than their albums might show.  Part of this must stem from the fact that live, there is simply no way for the overall sound to be as Electronic.  Now, the newest CD is even more tight, programmed, looped than their previous albums.  Will they sound differently now than over a year ago?  Will their old stuff change slightly?  I’ll report back later.

I logged into my account yesterday to a mother fuckin’ joke.  At the WordPress.com homepage/log-in screen the site gives visitors and users a list of it’s Top Posts currently.  I’m not exaggerating here, about 80% of these posts included two titles: “SNL” and “Sarah Palin”.  Someone PLEASE start talking about outer-space… please?!  The number one film for almost three weeks in a row was the American cinematic experience known as “Beverly Hills Chuhuahua”; now the talk of the town is this miserable excuse for a piece of the Executive Branch and this pile of shit sketch show??  Saturday Night Live has not been good for over a decade now.  It’s pathetic.  This only proves that Palin is an American CELEBRITY at best, not the savior or “new face” of Conservatism as many are making her out to be.  The next phase of Conservatism is ISOLATIONISM.  On top of that, no one’s discussing the biggest story of the weekend, which involves an endorsement from a certain ex-cabinet member to a certain campaign.

But I won’t.  Because this isn’t a political page.  There are enough of those who are posting right now, for the third or fourth time, about horrible television/comedy merging with horrible politicians.  Who, what, in the name of Burroughs, is going to save Popular Culture in America from this downspin into stupidity?  Someone.  Something.  Please.  I’m dying here.

-Sonny