POST #125

it's hard to believe it's my 125th post, but i'll try to make it count.

i'll take a moment to recount the event's of Reckless's surprise visit to Boston due to the recent unpleasantness in the UK, and his family's reluctance to sacrifice their special boy to foreign gods.

Reckless rolled into town on one of the few remaining functional amtrack trains, sobering up from the second binge of the day (the first occurring in merry Olde England, the second and third in merry Newe England), with the intention of seeing the premier garçon d'or off to his new career in social absenteeism (aka med school). on our arrival, we were greeted by the reminder of why theme parties can work so well; slutty nurse costumes. it was what you might call 'our element' but, not wanting to corrupt the reunionn with the old habits of debauchery and intoxication, we kept things pretty low key and left with grace to finish off the night on a rooftop in the back bay.

so goes it for weekends...

monday night, on the other hand, kept us local to preserve what tiny threads of decorum still remained in my professional life, and we tacitly agreed to eat buffalo and get fucked up. and get fucked up we did. along the way, i felt the powerful craving to watch fear and loathing in las vegas, but i did not own the movie, so we were forced to drunkenly shuffle through the inventory of three separate video stores before tracking it down at hollywood express.

of course, i'd never rented anything from hollywood express...

there's nothing quite like dealing out government-issued personal information and laying down a major credit card with a BOC hovering around .20, especially when you get to involve a friend who's mumbling 'mmmmm... chocolate, chocolate, chocolate' and smelling candy bars like well-aged cuban cigars. suddenly i looked down at the form i had been 'filling out' (with my left hand, no less) and realized i had the opportunity to add my mumbling friend to my video rental account.... with any restrictions i saw fit to impose on my new ward. i turned to him and decided i wasn't ready to expose him to any R-rated material (...wrote that on the form...), then i turned to the clerk and deadpanned 'and no sugar... i'm serious' (...wrote that on the form...).

many apologies, reckless. you will no longer be able to rent R-rated movies or purchase hershey bars at the hollywood video in davis square.

thanks for dropping into town, even if it was under unfortunate circumstances. it's always a good time, and never predictable with you around.

cheers-

SAY YOU, SAY ME

i like nicole richie way better than paris hilton.

ALMA MATER THROWBACK

...sitting on my porch finishing off the last two bottles of wine from the fridge, watching the lightning storm go off, enjoying good, solid canadian cigarettes, listeneng to OMD...

how cool is that?

fuck it. i'm going for a naked run tonight!

BANDWAGON?

am i the only one who hasn't read the Harry Potter sextilogy (wheeeeee!)?

CORRESPONDENCE COURSE

i realize i'm an ass about keeping in touch with old friends.

i don't know why this is. if i had to speculate i would say, at least at this point in my life, that most of the events that transpire are discrete sections of overlapping storylines, and when summoned ('unpaused'?... can we dig that?) things pick up pretty much where they left off. my assumption is that people do not fundamentally change, so therefore my relationships with people do not fundamentally change. but the subtle weathering of unshared experiences tends to move people in different directions, and being continuously aware of myself, i feel like many of these people are drifting away.

perhaps the real tragedy is that i don't see myself doing much at all right now but drinking, watching baseball, fucking off to the beach, and saving money while the hoi polloi pulls their shit together; med school, law school, marriage, kids... good for them, though, it's something to be damn proud of, and pretty exciting if you ask me. many of them have happy, happy dogs, which just makes me insanely jealous because i have no dogs.

on the other hand, i'm 99% sure i'm exaggerating, and life is pretty terrific for me these days, and i suppose i could get a happy dog, and it's a fantastic beach day today, and there are still a few girls out there waiting to take my picture, and drinking in moderation helps ward off heart disease, and the fish are biting, and barbecue keeps the mosquitos away...

i might just say that things aren't half bad.

CRAZY CARL!

mmmkay... so scott mcclellan (et. al.) maintains carl rove was merely trying to steer le' conversation away from former ambassador wilson when he revealed wilson's wife worked for the CIA, and that he should be exonerated for this great service to national security and, indeed, the great american way of life...

i may just be smoking the fruity crack here, but isn't that statement, by definition, implicative of rove's illegal revelation?

keep your eyes on this one. i give it 1000000:1 odds the white house shuffles down the 'ol potomac two-step on this issue, but does anyone really believe the CIA is all that happy with rove right now? sounds like a made-for-History-Channel movie where they end the program with a floating picture of carl rove in a happy, smiling place, but the music suggests there are so many unsolved mysteries and unanswered questions surrounding rove's unexplained disappearance...

oooooooooo!

*

...recent blog edits reflect the need to protect the innocent.... and charming....and easy on the eyes....

PHOTO - OP

i believe the CIA is tracking my every move. driving home tonight i happened to glance over at a car full of what i assessed to be good looking young women and, noticing my glance, they grinned, waved, and displayed general excitement towards my appearance, a fact that, until i realized they had probably graduated highschool within the last three months, provided me a much-needed ego boost in an otherwise discouraging day. i considered engaging them in car conversation, or at the very least pulling over to buy them alcohol and marlboro lights, but i was concurrently preoccupied with adjusting the bittersweet New Order pouring from my car stereo. when we stopped at the next light, i turned just in time to see the front passenger snap a quick photo of me and my car. 'you're cute!' she bubbled...

i drove off wondering what twisted ploy had been set in motion; what foul play lay in wait for me. my doors are locked, my windows are shut, and i sit agonizing over who would send such a phalanx of post-pubescent girls to track me down....

SON OF A BITCH!! (cont..)

managed to splash scalding hot coffee into my nose on the downsip this morning. you'd think with the excessive training i've received in the drinking arts, i wouldn't make such mistakes. goddamnit!!

EVIL EMPIRE

are yankee fans better sportsmen than Sox fans? the pinstripers will tell you that every time they come to Boston they get exactly zero respect, but what about respect for the game? when gary sheffield remarks, "my season is when I get paid... I'm not sacrificing my body or taking a chance on an injury for something that's made up" with regard to the first true 'world series,' i question his commitment to sportsmanship.

SON OF A BITCH!!

i was just blowing bubbles into my coffee mug and scalding hot coffee splashed into my eye. goddamnit!!

PESTO & POLITICS

two very important things have happened in the last couple of days that i would like to discuss in this post, 1) it became clear that carl rove was involved in exposing Valerie Plame as a CIA agent and 2) i had a close encounter with my favorite italian chef ('dream woman' might accurately be applied, as well), Giada de Laurentiis. since it's early tuesday morning and i can't be bothered to dive into political analysis, i'll focus on the latter.

ahem...

that was just a little too warm and fuzzy for my usual tuesday morning but, nevertheless, one must take pleasure in the simple passions in life, yes?

then again, there will always be villains in this world that deserve equal attention. wax on, wax off. before i get carried away, let me tell you that i believe deep down in my heart that carl rove is a very keen, very astute deputy chief of staff, and very conscious of his own agenda (to the extent that his agenda and the executive agenda run together is a topic for another sunny day). i also sense carl rove is a man who believes very deeply in the breaking-eggs-to-make-an-omelet philosophy, and that, in his mind, he exists to 'rescue' a united states from whatever evil is on the plate today (moral destruction, 'terror,' what have you). but that's just my opinion, so take whatever i say with a big, fat, gritty grain of kosher salt...

it was the rove email to Time reporter Matthew Cooper in which he states "it was (former ambassador Joseph) Wilson's wife, who apparently works at the agency on WMD..." that revealed Plame's position in the CIA. rove's lawer, rober luskin, mantains the deputy chief of staff was not aware Plame was an undercover agent, though luskin does not deny Plame's identity was compromised by the email. logically, there are two conclusions that one can derive from these facts:

1) carl rove is a big, fat, stupid-head and he does not have a strong grasp of US politics and policy
2) carl rove deliberately provided information concerning Plame's position in the CIA

either is possible, but i personally don't believe a shrewd politician like carl rove would make such a mistake. if you're interested enough to read this far and not saunter off to the latest and greatest of Brangelina news, you'll know full well that the white house is no friend of Plame or her husband, and that that convenience of these events is a bit hard to swallow... at least for a cynic such as myself...

then again, as i stood waiting for the midnight train to somerville last night, i found myself wondering what it would be like to know the current white house agenda in its entirety, and how horrifying that knowledge would be. it's discouraging, but deep down i know i can just turn on the Food Network at 1:30 and make it all better.

focus on the positive and tomorrow won't seem like such a big goddamn clusterfuck, no?
cheers.

THE JD/NO STREAM...

Reckless brings up an interesting topic concerning the lyrics re-published in the Can't....Stop....Listening post; my contention is that the song 'Dreams Never End' was released on a New Order EP in 1981, but since Ian Curtis appeared on the album it must have been recorded as a Joy Division track (in reference to the agreement that should one of the band members leave and/or die and/or hang himself after watching a documentary on alcoholic Wisconsinites, the remaining band members would continue under a new moniker). Hence 'Dreams Never End' was released as a New Order cut, but recorded when the band was Joy Division.

sound reasonable? it's all so very confusing in the early 80s mess of re-releases, singles, 7", and 12" that made music so goddamn fantastic in those days....

THANKS!

got smoked in beirut last night by an ace, so i had to take the T home. I fell asleep on the train and no one robbed or stabbed me.

thanks boston!

CAN'T...STOP...LISTENING...

this song has been running through my head for weeks:

My promise could be your fiend
A given end to your dreams
A simple movement or rhyme
Could be the smallest of signs
We'll never know what they are or care
In it's escapable view
There's no escape so few in fear
Give in a changing value

To be given your sight
Hid in a long peaceful night
A nervous bride for your eyes
A fractured smile that soon dies
A love that's wrong from your life and soul
A savage mine had begun
Hello, farewell to your love and soul
Hello, farewell to your soul

Now I know what those hands would do
No looking back now, we're pushing through
We'll change these feelings, we'll taste and see
But never guess how the him would scream
But never guess how the him would scream

make it stop!

NEW KIND OF ICKY HANGOVER

my strategy for keeping friends from drunk driving last night was to order great, gorgeous, sticky mountains of general tso's chicken from the takeout place down the street (so tasty i believe jesus christ himself eats there when he's lit), and watching Harold and Kumar go to White Castle until 4 am.

now i have an odd type of jack-and-coke-and-MSG hangover, and i'm really not sure if Harold and Kumar was a great movie or a horrible movie.

OH I LOVE THAT DIRTY WATER

this is why i love the boston globe...

lets thank our lucky stars Reckless can't get his lazy, goldbricking, ass out of bed before 3 (and that his parents would never, ever, ever allow him to live in the east end). Thankfully no one will ever figure you out enough to follow through with any hate crime (is he indian? he sort of looks tibetan... do we have anything against tibet? well i'm pretty sure he's not jewish, so maybe we should just continue dancing to this synth-pop remix of 'time after time').

ok, so i don't have a fucking clue what english intolerants do...

take care of yourself, boy-o

OH JAY, JAY, JAY....

i like to torture myself...

i was listening to jay severin again on the radio, and he's taken to calling democrats (and all leftist demographics) 'democrats' and all conservatives 'patriots,' which by definition makes me unpatriotic.

here's a little ethics lesson for jay severin.

if patriotism means i do not have the right to sit in my own house doing whatever the fuck i feel like, hurting no one, thinking whatever the fuck i want, and not fucking with anyone else's right to do whatever the fuck they want to themselves... then yea... i'm not a patriot. in fact, if that's your definition of patriotism, you can shove patriotism right up your self-righteous ass. you can fuck right off, you hate-crime-soliciting kitten fuckers.

i happen to believe in individual rights, and i happen to believe that in a functional democracy the most sacred of all ideologies is the respect for individual rights. Tom DeLay can go fondle anyone he likes and go on his merry way, and you won't hear a peep from me, but i will not look the other way when he shysters 2.5 million in lobbyist money into his pockets while po' white trash in Texas lose health care, education, and the very basic needs to survive and pull themselves out of the debt slavery these 'patriots' have created for them.

patriotism means believing in a community that does not allow these villains to get away with murder at the expense of those who only ask for the elementary tools of survival. that's what i believe...

i also believe Giada de Laurentiis is fucking hot.

which brings me to my second point; if we as a culture are to defend and preserve our basic right to freedom (and for chrissake, don't mistake my definition of freedom as the 'let-the-eagle-soar' freedom, mine is the 'real freedom is responsibility' species), we need to appeal to the most universal and powerful of all human elements: fucking. we all know rick santorum goes home and jerks off to little league (again, it's his business what he does in the privacy of his own home... none of my business a'tall), and most southern, ultraconservatives make their underage, african-american mistresses call them 'Stonewall,' so it appears obvious to me that the most widespread, universal, and dare i say unifying activity is good, solid, american fucking.

uh-huh. let's use that, shall we?

do something positive america! find someone you care about and bang away! stop yer hatin' and start yer lovin'

i consider it to be your most important civic duty.

and another thing: get your goddamn hands off my NPR, motherfuckers.

that is all.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA!!!

happy july 4 everyone- i'm hosting a little get-together with some good 'ol fellows in our neighborhood brewhaus, and things are shaping up pretty nicely. "Big Ben" Franklin is over in the corner booth working the "care to cast your gaze on my elder statesman" line on some comely bar lasses, Jefferson and Washington are sampling some Mr. Vernon homegrown (good for George's glaucoma and various other ailments), and Thomas "Tutone" Paine is arguing over his unalienable right to another drink, goddamnit, because it was god's will that bestowed these sacred jager shots upon all men. Hamilton steps up and puts Tommy's drink on his tab and, now that he thinks about it, let's put another round of drinks for the house on his tab... figures it'll bring them all together. Betsy Ross walks in, a little unsure of herself among the 'richies' in her handmade pink dress, but damned if she doesn't catch 'ol "lets go shoot some trap" Hancock's attention.

all in all a pretty good day to quit paying taxes to the crown....

happy birthday america!

RECKLESS...

dude. you get your own special post tonight... huzzah!

don't you find it odd when you're listening to joy division and you find some song you haven't heard since middleschool and you're all, like, this song's really groovy- i'm really getting into it... nice mellow melody, ian curtis' voice isn't too modulated, etc..

then you look up the lyrics and they're all:
A nervous bride for your eyes
A fractured smile that soon dies
A love that's wrong from your life and soul
A savage mine had begun
Hello, farewell to your love and soul
Hello, farewell to your soul

and then you're all, like, wow- now i know why he killed himself to a kraftwerk album.