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Pavement
Sebastien RAWKS!!! He rawks in the obnoxious teenie bopper phoenetic spelling of the word! He burned me a copy of "New York" by Lou Reed at work today. Last week I think I off handedly mentioned I'd never heard it, so he was burning a copy for someone else today and decided to make an extra for me. It's kinda funny cause it was mad slow all day today so the two of us were just kinda doing our own things; I was sitting around reading, and he was...basically making the damn thing right in front of me and I completely didn't notice! I saw him take the blank CD, saw him copy cut and otherwise construct the jacket, but I was just like "la la la I'm reading my book." Yet another example of how air headedly oblivious I am. Didn't even think to ask "Hey, what are you doing?"
And from what Sebastien told me, doesn't sound like I missed much at last nights party. Not that I would have been able to go even if I had been planning to. Yesterday while I was out running errands I took a really nasty spill in the street. The pavement was uneven, I tripped, and went flying face first into the sidewalk. Skinned my knees, ripped a perfectly good pair of pants, banged up my palms, and scraped the fuck out of my chin. I'm sore as hell today. All my joints are screaming and threatnening to beat me with a baseball bat. Of course I have to reason with them, point out the fact that if they beat me with a baseball bat it'll only make THEM hurt more and that's a little conterproductive don't you think? I'm also sporting a rather sick looking scab on my chin. It's all jagged and bloody. Looks like I had a bad shaving accident :-p So...point is I was so banged up yesterday, when I got home I got into bed and fell right asleep. I was hurting too bad to go anywhere.
Next Saturday the Eels are playing Warsaw. Despite my lousy Stephen Malkmus experience out there back in December, I really want to go. Yes, it's a trendy Willimasburg night spot, and yes everyone there is thin and pretty and obnoxious, and I felt like a loser the last time I was there...but this is the EELS we're talking about!!! They play here at least once or twice a year and I've never been able to go see them. I get paid on Monday so I'll have money and by God I want to see them play before I die!!!! So, next Saturday I'm gonna go spend some quality time with them :-D
Read an interview with my beloved Maggie Estep online the other day. Turns out she's stopped writing poetry. She's been focusing more on her novels these days. She said the poems were all simply crazy rants that served their purpose for a time, but that she has now grown out of. Damn shame if you ask me. I grew up idolizing her. She's the person who made me want to write poetry. But by the same token, I get where she's coming from. You DO grow out of the rants. I read her poetry now and it stands in such stark contrast to what I've been taught is good poetry. But I have to remember that spoken word is held to a different standard. It grew out of a desire to break traditional poetic constraints. You can't compare it to Frost or Yeats or Keats. It has it's own set of rules.
Okay....I don't really have a point here. Maybe I'll think of one later?
And from what Sebastien told me, doesn't sound like I missed much at last nights party. Not that I would have been able to go even if I had been planning to. Yesterday while I was out running errands I took a really nasty spill in the street. The pavement was uneven, I tripped, and went flying face first into the sidewalk. Skinned my knees, ripped a perfectly good pair of pants, banged up my palms, and scraped the fuck out of my chin. I'm sore as hell today. All my joints are screaming and threatnening to beat me with a baseball bat. Of course I have to reason with them, point out the fact that if they beat me with a baseball bat it'll only make THEM hurt more and that's a little conterproductive don't you think? I'm also sporting a rather sick looking scab on my chin. It's all jagged and bloody. Looks like I had a bad shaving accident :-p So...point is I was so banged up yesterday, when I got home I got into bed and fell right asleep. I was hurting too bad to go anywhere.
Next Saturday the Eels are playing Warsaw. Despite my lousy Stephen Malkmus experience out there back in December, I really want to go. Yes, it's a trendy Willimasburg night spot, and yes everyone there is thin and pretty and obnoxious, and I felt like a loser the last time I was there...but this is the EELS we're talking about!!! They play here at least once or twice a year and I've never been able to go see them. I get paid on Monday so I'll have money and by God I want to see them play before I die!!!! So, next Saturday I'm gonna go spend some quality time with them :-D
Read an interview with my beloved Maggie Estep online the other day. Turns out she's stopped writing poetry. She's been focusing more on her novels these days. She said the poems were all simply crazy rants that served their purpose for a time, but that she has now grown out of. Damn shame if you ask me. I grew up idolizing her. She's the person who made me want to write poetry. But by the same token, I get where she's coming from. You DO grow out of the rants. I read her poetry now and it stands in such stark contrast to what I've been taught is good poetry. But I have to remember that spoken word is held to a different standard. It grew out of a desire to break traditional poetic constraints. You can't compare it to Frost or Yeats or Keats. It has it's own set of rules.
Okay....I don't really have a point here. Maybe I'll think of one later?