Thursday, August 11, 2005
This week I've already given blogging tips, talked (some more) about The Dukes of Hazzard and blogged the death of a guy who played too many video games. I'm obviously dry. Just look at my multi-part Sunday post where I couldn't settle on one topic and that kind of set the tone for the week. I'm scraping here, people.

But instead of running like a coward from the challenges of every-day blogging, I've decided that the best thing to do is to let you all see me struggle and flail and fail to be entertaining. I feel as though I owe it to you, Bucketeers.

Nothing to say, nothing of any interest or import happening, creativity strangled and left for dead by a murderous cocktail of mood-altering anti-anxiety/anti-depression/anti-psychotic/erectile dysfunction drugs. So what's a blogger to do?

Ah yes. It's meme time, people.

Because Jesus totally exists, He inspired somebody to inspire Steph who inspired Brent who has inspired me. By "inspire" I mean he put my name at the bottom of his list of stuff all about the wonder that is Brent. If that's not Jesus working, I don't know what is.

This thing is running through our little circle of bloggers like genital warts through a frat party, so I have decided to succumb. The last time I tried this, it was a complete unmitigated disaster as I proved singularly incapable of taking the process seriously.

Things are different now. I was a brash, flippant, ne'er-do-well whelp of a new blogger back then who thought blog topics would just fall out of the sky--usually in the shape of a burning space shuttle--in an endless rain of fiery inspiration.

I'm older now, more experienced, wiser in the ways of the world, much more terribly, terribly desperate and alone. The last space shuttle even landed without incident, leaving me with nothing. Nothing.

I hate Thursdays.

Before I start, I would like to point out that following Brent, Mr. Smarmy Super-Eclectic Music Connoisseur is a huuuge mistake. I like bouncy pop music that I hear on the radio. And not those hippie communist underground secret radio stations either, I mean regular stations where they play regular music as recorded and approved by mutual agreement of the billion-dollar multi-national corporations that own the record companies and the radio stations, often simultaneously. Because I'm an American, goddamn it. I eat what I'm fed and I like it. Love it or leave it, comrade.

Ready aim fire.


Number of records/tapes/CDs I own: Not nearly enough. Somewhere between 100 and 150. I stopped buying them in earnest after my kids were born. Most of my discretionary income was diverted to shit like baby formula and diapers and those little jars of mushed-up vegetables. Turns out none of that is actually "discretionary" according to the nice people at Child Protective Services. Art-hating fascists, all of them.

First record/tape/CD I bought: Most of the stuff from my childhood I can't remember. My sisters make fun of me for this. This, however, I remember: the self-titled debut of They Might Be Giants, 1986. Coincidentally it also happens to be the first CD I ever purchased when I got a CD player a few years later. Also my first exposure to planned obsolescence and the sneaky way corporations can make you pay for the same thing twice. Fuckers.

Last record/tape/CD I bought: The Forgotten Arm, Aimee Mann. Technically I bought this for my wife for Mother's Day. She said "What's this?" And I said "Oh, it's really good. Here, I'll hang on to it for you." And then I was sort of bored by it. I think it's time for my wife to get some new CDs.

Last record/tape/CD I listened to: I've been messing with digital music files for the last few weeks, so I have to think about this. ALL COMPLETELY LEGALLY, I'd like to add. Nothing to see here, law enforcement and/or RIAA-types. Move along. Oh yeah... um... Electric Version, New Pornographers maybe.

Recordings or songs that mean a lot to me (and/or changed my life):
Nevermind, Nirvana. I know I know, but within a few months of this thing blowing up, the Top 40 stations, which had been in the grip of shit like Poison and Whitney Houston, were playing (however briefly) guitar-based music with lyrics about how much everything sucks. Awesome. Single-handedly killed hair metal. Everyone roughly my age should include this one on any list for that reason alone.

Raising Hell, Run DMC. Anybody else remember when hip-hop was fun and funny? Remember when a rapper's biggest problem was the "sucka MCs"? Holy fuck, I'm old.

"The Other Side of Summer", Elvis Costello. Not even close to his best song from not even close to his best album. But I liked it enough to buy Mighty Like A Rose, which I liked well enough to buy the box set of (the FIRST) Rykodisc re-issue of his first three albums. The rest is obsessive-compulsive history. I've got bootlegs, I've got singles, I've got imports... it's so sad. But it's Elvis Costello. Of course since then Ryko has re-re-released everything with more bonus tracks and rarities. Remember before when I said "Fuckers"? Fuckers.

"(I Don't Want To Go To) Chelsea", Elvis Costello. No other reason than the fact that this was the first song I learned to play on my guitar that I was able to make sound like an actual song. The first sign of my burgeoning polymathic virtuosity. Jesus, I'm impressive.

If I had to choose a soundtrack of my life, what 5-10 songs would be on it?:
"No One Knows My Plan", They Might Be Giants. The only bossa nova song I know that references Plato's allegory of the cave. Bitchin' conga-line at live shows as well.

"Wonderwall", Oasis. It's embarrassing to put this one up here because it's such a cornball song, but it's one of those time/place reference points that I elect now not to expound upon. It's nothing dirty... or is it?

"Mama Said Knock You Out", LL Cool J. I'm gonna take this itty bitty world by storm/And I'm just gettin warm. Also: it's playing on my iTunes right now. These last two sentences are not included in the song.

"Destination Ursa Major", Superdrag. Great song, great band, totally ruined by Jesus.

"Sheila Take A Bow", The Smiths. I actually know someone named Sheila. I like her very much, but this song has nothing to do with her. I just needed to pick a Smiths song and this is still my favorite one.

How many more of these things do I need? I thought memes were supposed to be easy? OK, a couple more.

"Things Can Only Get Better", Howard Jones. Look, I told you right up front: bouncy pop music. Plus the refrain: Whoa-whoa-whooo-oo-ooh-whoa-oo-oooh-oh-oh-oh. Haunting

"Work", Jimmy Eat World. I had to put something up here that was recorded less than 15 years ago. This thing was trending in the wrong direction.

I told you people I don't buy a lot of new music.

This is the part of the meme where I tag other people and shame them into participation. As a concession to my fussy, contrarian nature, I am choosing to forego that part of the plan. Instead I'm assigning all of you to complete ASAP the meme I created myself. If this is going to be all about me, let's make it all about me.

This was more fun than I will ever again admit to.

Narcissus wept.



Powered by Blogger