everybody's special

i'm pretty sure that nobody with actual talent reads my blog (when i get around to posting, that is). legitimized talent, i mean. you guys all rock, but as far as i know, you've never published anything or gotten signed (no, blogs don't count, and neither does the "record label" you thought up when you got stoned on the library roof that one time). anyway, like most losers (and eventual winners, i suppose), i keep trying in spite of the harsh glaring truth and every november, i psyche myself up for the month of plot outlines and carpal tunnel syndrome that is nanowrimo.

and now you musically inclined folks can play too! check it out: the rpm challenge! record an album in 28 days? sounds like a piece of cake to me. though, you only have about 32 hours until the clock starts.

then you have to learn how to play an instrument, find some like-minded saps to accompany you, write a bunch of songs, record them, have artistic differences and go your own way, edit them (the songs, not the differences. though, now that you mention it, your musical pretensions aren't exactly original), leak them to the internet, convince dj dangermouse to remix your shit so the kids will think it's cool, find some kickass cover art, sue the pants off the hipster doofi who illegally downloaded your genius, wallow in your own crapulence, and fall headfirst into the inevitable sophomore slump.

congratulations, you're a rock star! now head on over to pitchfork and hypemachine to obsessively track your "popularity".

ok, fine! yes, i'm slightly bitter, my musical dreams will never be realized! and no, i don't hold that against musicians, more power to them. and maybe, i secretly wish i could pull off the eyeliner look. quit bugging me, don't you have songs to write?

absence makes the heart go yonder

listen dan, it's been a long time since you posted anything on me (like 37 days, even) and i'm starting to wonder if you even carea about me anymore. i have feelings too, you know, and needs, and contrary to what everybody's been telling you, i'm not going to just sit around and wait for you to come back to me, extra-large hat in hand, and act like nothing ever happened. the fact is that you gave up on us, not me. and frankly, i don't want to hear excuses about finals, or holidays, or the strange virus you picked up from tramping around on new year's.

get over yourself and come back to me, because i haven't given up. and if you're man enough to admit you were wrong, i'll be blog enough to take you back. this time. everybody deserves a second chance, even a jerk like you. plus you're just too damn sexy not to have in my life. play your cards right, and maybe you can be a blogger with benefits. just promise not to fuck up anymore and treat me with a little respect, ok? i deserve it.

love (begrudgingly),
your blog

good lord, i hate this movie

look, i don't really have a lot of love for the troglodytes over at aicn. more often than not, their breathless fanboyism makes me want to punch myself in the face for liking some of the same things they do.

however, there's a special place in my heart for hating on eragon. perhaps it's the residual self-loathing of a former (very former, asshole) dragonlance reader, or maybe it's just that this kind of shitstorm of a novel makes anybody who actually enjoys fantasy of any stripe feel like a total schmuck. quality, original, amazing, fantastic fiction does exist out there, but every book of sword-and-sorcery cookie cutter tripe that comes out just encourages people to write off the whole genre. so, thanks, homeschooled dipshit, for tying your cinderblock of a brainfart around the necks of actual fantasy fans everywhere. enjoy your millions of dollars.

p.s. your dragon looks completely retarded.

finals, no posting til i recover (unless i'm drunk)

that about says it. see all those links over there on the right? under 'blogroll'? go read 'em if you're bored.

meet lordi

they're just living the monsterican dream, nothing to do but wait for the arockalypse and fucking shred! they're way hard, but way loveable under all the fangs and goo.

is this the reason american music sucks? not enough monsters? maybe. who fucking cares, just pump your fist and lead your zombie cheerleaders to rawk salvation.

who knew tv journalists could actually do their jobs?

i don't really like tv news. i've watched the local broadcasts a few times and they're pretty pathetic. the national stuff's even worse most of the time. at least the local news is still relevant to the people who watch it--the cable news channels are completely ridiculous. cnn's preaching the coming armageddon, fox news is winning the market share for old white people (news viewers) and polemicizing as if most of its audience didn't just get kicked out of washington. but out of nowhere comes msnbc. despite having chris matthews and tucker carlson on their own shows, the peacock became the first network to have the balls to call iraq a civil war on the air. i don't even mind joe scarborough some of the time, since he actually uses his brain and not just his mouth.

but man oh man, do i love me some keith olbermann.

i liked him on espn (i think that was the last time i watched espn on purpose, actually) and i really, really like countdown. olbermann is everything you could want of a media personality cum journalist: avowedly nonpartisan, viciously protective of social, civil, and human rights, striking without being strident, clever without being smug, pointed without being shrill, and possessing the kind of gravitas (and eyebrows) that peter jennings would be proud of. he has real experts from both sides come on every night and even provides political, historical, and philosophical context for the issues he's covering. context! issues! not empty blather and shouted character assassinations. can they even do that on television? i swear, it's like an incredible one-hour dream every weeknight.

i've been studying political media personalities all semester, and if they were all a little more like olbermann, maybe tv news wouldn't be the spite-filled, useless wasteland it's become. on the show tonight, in one of his 'special comment' segments, olbermann tore into newt gingrich's proposed dismantling of the first amendment. it's a good read, but it was absolutely stunning television. i don't even mind that he borrowed edward murrow's closing line. i've never seen politics on tv that impressed me as much (not counting the west wing. and 24).

on the move

i love to travel, even if i don't do it nearly often enough (no $$$) and even if i'm just traveling to places i've already been to a hundred times. it's just the act of uprooting myself (temporarily. semi-permanently, maybe. i'm not sure i could ever leave boston for good) and all the little acts that go along with it. right down to requesting time off from work and watering the plants. i can't even describe what it is, but it thrills me to no end. which makes me pretty awesomely lame, i guess.

i really like the weird things about it, too. train station kiosk coffee, getting gold dollar coins from ticket vending machines, that good-stiff-shoulders feeling that only seems to come from a duffel bag full of dirty laundry, uninterrupted ipod time, texting from the train, trying to figure out where strangers are going. this stuff just makes me happy. i always stay up late the night before a trip too. it's not even on purpose (mostly), but i'm sure being tired helps to coat the whole experience in that gauzy transient drifting haze that i find so endearing.

anyway, turkey-day-week is here and with it, lots of opportunity for me to be (more) tired and move around the eastern seaboard. i just got off a series of trains and there are going to be plenty of automobiles in my near future. which is good, because i miss driving! and i have a metric assload of cds to rock out to. so happy thanksgiving to whoever reads this and try to enjoy the traveling, because anybody trying to get anywhere between now and sunday is in for a grand old time.

holy hostility, batman!

that last post was full of bitter invective, which is not my usual style, i swear. i don't even really mind working at starbucks so much this time (unlike before, when going to work was like walking through acid in flip-flops). the kids who work there are awesome, i get to basically say and do whatever i want, and my bosses are just glad to have me back!

still, most customers are vacuous and forgettable and i long for intellectual stimulation that can't be found in retail. questions like "do you have a restroom?" and "where are the straws?" don't quite get my motor running. luckily, the current crew at my store is very much in the too-smart-for-retail-but-saddled-with-an-unmarketable-degree mold, to which i proudly belong, and which i vastly prefer to either the dumb-enough-for-retail or the i-will-make-starbucks-my-god-and-sacrifice-fun-to-its-insatiable-otherworldly-hunger varieties.

speaking of stimulation, last week i came in at the end of the night to help my bosses roll out the holiday decorations for the store (a hugely ridiculous process, but $$$ talks as usual) and it happened to take place on the new (to me) open mic night at the store! this was my first time (which, unlike in some clubs, did not mean that i had to participate. lucky them) though i'd been warned by a coworker to expect the worst. and, as much as i think people with talent should devote themselves to cultivating it and enriching their lives and the lives of those around them, i just couldn't fucking stop laughing. oh god, the earnestness! that night, i glimpsed a world without irony, and it was goddamn hilarious!

p.s. i'm cracking up just thinking about it!

all i ask is that you stop kidding yourselves

alright, listen up morons. (smart people, you can go read a book or something) i know it's hard to wrap your gucci-obsessed reptile brains around the concept, but calories equal fat and starbucks drinks are fucking loaded with the little buggers. a venti nonfat caramel macchiato is packing something like 350, so good job sticking to your no-diet diet, suckas.

i found this in a fast food nation-inspired quiz about your favorite retail food joints (cosi, dunkin, da bux). how well did you pay attention to the previous paragraph?

4. Which grande (16 oz.) Starbucks drink has the fewest calories?

a. Frappuccino Blended Coffee with whipped cream

b. Frappuccino Blended Crème

c. Chai Tea Latte

d. Caramel Macchiato

e. Cappuccino

(answer at the bottom, i'm sure you're fairly tingly with anticipation)

on another, but equally annoying, note: starbucks customers, i'm not your damn mother. pick up after yourselves. word on the street is that you jerks are supposed to be adults.




and now, for the grand(e) reveal:

a. Frappuccino Blended Coffee with whipped cream
(420 to 550 calories)
b. Frappuccino Blended Crème
(490 to 580 calories)
c. Chai Tea Latte
(290 calories)
d. Caramel Macchiato
(310 calories)
the winner! e. Cappuccino even, if made with whole milk
(150 calories)

there, now quit bothering me (and stop talking about how "tall" is a "small". i fucking know).

dear britt daniel,

i know you probably get a lot of letters like this, but i just wanted to say that you pretty much rock. just the other day, i saw bono (in 7/11! eating a roller-dog!!) and i gave him a nod and thought that though he's done a fairly good job of publicizing the plight of the impoverished and hungry and whatnot in africa, there must be somebody who could do those things who wasn't involved in the production of 'how to dismantle an atomic bomb.'

and that's when i thought of you, britt! you're compassionate, friendly, outgoing, you have awesome hair, and i bet you smell pretty good most of the time (unlike bono. also, nitrates, dude! seriously.) and what more do you need to be an international davos-fixture like lord bono?

this is getting a little off topic, but really britt, i just wanted you to know that i was thinking about you and listening to some of your fantastic music, and it made me a little sad that you're not beloved by more people. if you're ever in boston, look me up, ok? talk to you later!

love,
dan

happy halloween

i don't like being one of those bloggers who doesn't post very often. i figure if i can't do every other day, why am i even in this business (besides the women and the adulation of my peers, i mean)? anyway, it turns out i can't. not now anyway. with midterms over, and nanowrimo starting tomorrow (and tons of other shit that's even less interesting), i'm pretty sure this space is going to be seriously on the back burner for a while. i guess i'll see if i can keep up with it, but i'm not making any promises.

maybe check back once a week, ok? i'll try my best to make it worth your while (with funny pictures, maybe). word, have an awesome holiday (i'm wearing a sexy dress), wish me luck with the book, and i'll see y'all on the other side (december? after finals? when i finally have something interesting to say? who knows?)!

nanowrimo, take five-ish

it's that magical time of year again, when my eyes are too big for my...talent, i guess. november equals national novel writing month, which for me usually equals grandiose ambitions followed by very little in the way of follow-through. the idea is to write 50,000 words in 30 days.

i've been trying since my junior year of college, and the best i ever did was 10,000 (actually 9,874--huzzah for rounding!) and that was two years ago. last year, being back in school, i was quickly distracted by things like papers and other unimportant things (thanksgiving? whatever). but not this time! no sir, i have a secret weapon this year, and it's called: cheating.

that's right. this summer, i started writing a story and got about half of a notebook into it before school started again and robbed me of my mojo/free time/will to live. so, since i still have all that other junk to do this november (trip to see cecilia, turkeyday, homework, real work, trivia night, etc.), i've decided that it's not really unethical to use a story i've already started. since i have to type it anyway, it's practically like writing it (take that, ethics!). anyway, shut up, it's my story and my month!

p.s. write your own novel! go to the website and check it out. the more the merrier!

sweet jesus in a smoking birchbark canoe!

this is just reprehensible.

i personally think celebrities getting mixed up with politics is all kinds of messed up. voters in this country are easily confused as it is, they don't need goddamn sean penn fighting crocodiles in the flooded streets of new orleans to distract them from the fact that their senator is a raving dingbat.

but michael j. fox isn't tying himself to a bridge to legalize pot, he's fighting for his life (or at least his mobility) against a terrible disease and if rush doesn't like it maybe he should cure fucking parkinson's. if he's not too busy popping viagra and dragging down the collective iq of the entire country, i mean.

man, i hope mccaskill wins and legalizes stem cell research and they cure parkinson's but the cure actually gives michael j. fox superpowers and he has to stop the evil rushzilla (he was mutated into a slobbering lizard-man by a heretofore undiscovered combination of cialis and johnnie walker green) by throwing him into the sun. twice. fucking lizards hate the sun.

so much for that whole 'indie god' thing

heard regina spektor on vmars tonight. found the song ("fidelity" i would link it, but there are laws. also, buy it, cheap-o!) on los internets. it is awesome, she is awesome (also, she's apparently some sort of twee pixie/wet dream on a piano), and while i am still pretty ok in most people's view, i've turned in my street cred and cursed the name of time warner-aol for a second time. all of the cool kids knew about her ages ago, and i am appropriately humbled. thank you veronica mars, for opening up my eyes (ears)!

master of mixology

no, not booze for once (though i'm pretty unstoppable with that too; see: green crush). music actually. to me, crafting mixtapes (or ipod playlists, if you're into that whole thing) is like the fine art of collage. or scrapbooking. or fanfiction. it's all about rearranging other people's hard work into kick-ass arrangements that say something about you, not those sell-outs who actually produced the stuff.

i like to make mixes that fit my attitude towards my own life. one of the downsides of this approach is that they don't always stay relevant since, well, things change. still, if the mix really works, it should come together to form a solid, delicious whole that is more than the sum of its parts (not unlike jell-o), and the timeliness issue shouldn't be a problem. that being said, some songs really (really) don't age well, and it can be hard to figure out if "jenny was a friend of mine" is still going to be rock-tacular when i'm an adult (p.s. i'm not yet).

so, if you're like me (you're probably not) and you love a good cliche (you probably don't), then you think making a mix cd/playlist/tape for your significant whatever is good old fashioned fun (and you probably already left my blog). for reals though: it's mostly personal, it takes a not-insignificant amount of time, and it can--if done properly--give her important relationship information. what info you provide, however, depends on the mix. you can tell her about yourself, your influences and tastes, what you're listening to at the moment, or what songs you want to have sex to the next time she's in town. on the other hand, you can show her that you've been paying attention every time she says she loves a song (to really step it up, find other songs by the same band, or similar bands. but oh man, stay away from covers), or that you remember what songs she played during sex the last time. or you can do themes. they're kind of cheesy, but as in most things, the line between romance and cheese is a very fine one. and it takes practice to stay on the right side of it.

caveat mixtor: you can very easily ruin a song you love by putting in a mix for a girl who dumps your cheesy ass. especially if you really dug her. shit, music is wicked evocative, that's the whole point of it, and when you go and associate it with some painful happenings, kiss it goodbye. for a while anyway. what's the getting-over-a-breakup rule? half the length of the relationship? yeah, that sounds good. don't listen to tainted music until half the length of the relationship has passed since the breakup. got it?

p.s. mixes are fun for other things too, like working out ("rump shaker," etc.) and parties ("rump shaker," etc.) and getting blazed ("the ocean," etc.)! haha, yeah right, loser. they're also awesome for a night alone with a bottle of makers' mark and singing along/dancing on the bed. not that i would know. my only playlists are titled "kicking ass" and "making it with chicks".

finally, some fucking validation

"Too cool for school: You are a certifiable indie god. You know which bands are breaking up before the rest of us simpletons have to read about it in Filter or on Pitchfork."

this just in, cnn says i kick total ass, which i guess means that my indie cred has already been sacrificed to the gaping maw of time warner-aol. nuts. maybe they'll pay me if i use my indie superpowers (goofy hair! cool t-shirts! pointless knowledge!) for the benefit of mankind. sadly, when the troglodytes at cnn are telling you you're cool, it's time to burn your closet and donate your ipod to charity (doctors without borders, not tunes!). seriously, it's worse than when your mom says it. fucking miles o'brien.

why.i.hate.we

so, six weeks ago, i started a new job, full of hope and promise and unbridled enthusiasm (as i am most every day, natch) and an eagerness to explore new aspects of retail merchandising and customer service!

so much for that. they gave us the standard retail pep talk: "a different kind of retail," "people first," "blah blah blah, i'm a giant tool." it went over about as well as you would expect. every morning there was a call and response "good morning, giant tool!" that was supposed to get us ready to sell our guts out to the obnoxious morons who came into the store. this is the kind of utter nonsense that made me nostalgic for starbucks. at least there, we all knew that the higher-ups didn't give a shit about us, but we could be sure that our manager (who was often a friend on top of being a boss) cared at least a little. not so at we. i'm not going to talk shit about him (because i don't know him that well, and trash talk is reserved for close friends), but basically he's a fantastic salesman and a piss-poor manager.

i've never made claims to being good at much (just writing, loving, and kung fu), but i don't think there's any doubt that i'd be a better manager than the douche i've been dealing with (ignore that parenthetical in the last paragraph, please). he seems to have the hiring part down pretty well--almost everybody i met there was both cool and good at their jobs. but he has no idea how to manage an effective team. there are two sides to managing: the people side and the business side, and to be a good manager you have to do both. that's not a hard concept to grasp, but time after time, i run into managers who can push profits to the limits but can't run their staffs to save their stupid miserable lives.

i know what you're thinking "dan, you're probably just a huge pain in the ass and managers don't want to deal with your bullshit!" and i'd be lying if i said i didn't think so too. but it can't be that simple, because other people say the same things about the same people (just with less profanity).

anyway, i'm quitting and going back to the bucks. at least i can afford to buy the things i sell there.

slight site changes, insights to excite!

blogger's new layout gizmo is giving me issues, so i'm calling it a night. no more 'what hits' bar, as i got the feeling it only mattered to me and was a pain in the ass to update (there was typing involved, gah). trying to give you guys a new picture to swoon over (it shows off my eyes!) and a new blogroll. the labels are awesome, and i'm having a blast with 'em. in case you couldn't tell.

by the by, did anybody hear about that nutbar down in georgia? yeah, she wants to ban harry potter books because they're too witchy! i know! the nerve of some people. not only are witches smoking hot (sabrina, samantha, tara, willow, blair witch, hermione), but they teach kids to read before they eat them. sometimes. also a few of those witches i mentioned saved the world! what have you done lately, nutbar?

oh, right, you made sure your library didn't have any spanish-language fiction so the immigrants wouldn't come in there and make it smelly and mexican. fantastic job. really, way to fucking go. i almost wish witches were real so they could eat your children and keep them from spreading your lunacy to more innocent people!

first of all, many immigrants (legal or not) are not spanish speakers at all. they're from other parts of the world that probably scare nutbar just as badly. secondly, a fair amount of illegal immigrants (the scarier kind) are fucking illiterate! and i bet they're still smarter than you! sweet fucking christ, lady. i can't decide whether to tear my hair out or curl up in a ball and weep.

p.s. the harry potter series are the most banned books of all time. as banned books week was last week, we can safely assume that nutbar is ignorant about pretty much everything yet was blessed with a deliciously ironic sense of timing.

bad blogger! do more blogging!

as someone once said: "not blogging is the new blogging." unfortunately, they said it in a blog, thus condemning the comment to a terrifying vortex of irony and cynicism that can only end in the utter destruction of the interwebs. it was nice knowing...well, joe, i guess, since i'm pretty sure nobody else reads this thing.

and if they did, my deafening silence probably dissuaded them in no time flat. in the interests of proving to...well, joe, i guess, that his time here is well spent, here are some links.

why i'm terrified
why i'm depressed (because it will probably work)
why i'm ecstatic
why i'm laughing
why i'm saving my money

there, now go do something productive.

finally

some good news about the space elevator!