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Mar. 9th, 2006 @ 05:15 pm
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oh, here...
-tony
just a whisperCurrent Mood:  guilty |
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I’m sure you’re all wondering what could have possibly possessed me to: write an entry like the one below; post it; not update for several weeks ensuring anyone who stumbled upon this journal fled like advertising dollars away from my generation.
Couple things there: yes, I feel old. Though it’s for silly reasons that at this point mostly amuse me; I’m sure in a few years I will be reciting them ad nauseum in a white room equipped with a solitary window through which men of exhaustive knowledge and impeccable dress will study me. Finally, no, I don’t really think anyone actually wonders about my posting strategy, it was merely a clever ruse employing a classic literary device. I had to pretend that you do actually wonder about these things.
If you work it through in your head you’ll realize that my doing so doesn’t say much about either of us.
That’s me and you. You and me.
So happy.
Together.
If I can change… and you can change… we can all… together… change.
…and start having long discussions regarding my posting strategy. That’s the goal.
Anyway, here is the thing: I’m putting my services out there. I will be providing you with something so trivial, so unequivocally inconsequential, so devoid of any actual point of reference that I’m sure you will do everything in your power to allow me to place this metaphorical crown upon your figurative head. I will tell you something about yourself. Something terribly clever. I just need one thing in return, and I will need it up front thank you very much.
How far, exactly, and possibly why, did you get into the entry below.
-tony
i can read you like the tora, backwardsCurrent Mood:  clearly horny Current Music: [none] |
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Writers note: the following is presented largely as written, the actual events described really happened, and they happened as I described them. Given what occurred I wanted to keep everything intact. I realize it’s long the way God is big, and I realize that most won’t get through it. However, for those that are interested and make it all the way through I feel that I owe that much. I mean, it’s that bizarre in certain spots…
Warm greetings and salutations. I am coming to you live from the Tony Suite at the Rudy Estate. I am joined by my feline colleague Mos Cat and the inevitability of the longest entry ever witnessed by man. I say man because I don’t feel as if I can comfortably make that claim for the rest of Earths populace, especially the dolphins. If they are indeed as smart as Douglas Adams would have us believe then the blogging technologies they must have surly dwarf ours. And as such, this technological advantage surely facilitates content quality and, more relevant here, volume.
At this point I should probably start explaining. If you are reading this then right now, yes, now, you are joining me in an experiment that may change all our lives.
I am going to watch a basketball game.
I’ll give you a moment to clean up and rid your ears of the ringing sounds of your own ecstasy.
Here is the plan, I will watch tonight as the Sixers take on the Timberwolves, I will do what I normally do during a game, and I will document the proceedings. To be only slightly clearer, though I thoroughly dislike them as a team, the Portland Trail Blazers come to mind…
My pre-game festivities are about to commence, Mos seems very excited as he tortures a small stuffed octopus within an inch of his life, I’ll be back at tip-off.
Tip-off…. Dammit. This is earlier then I anticipated.
The Sixers look good to start, two straight set plays run for Igudala… did god finally hear me?
Um, three straight plays now for Iggy. Sadly we are only able to garner one bucket from that stretch. I can only hope this dissuades Coach Cheeks from further pursuing this strategy and we go back to him taking two shots a game. Which is what you want from your starting shooting guard, presumably.
Iverson looks off tonight as he has now missed three straight, this is where it’s interesting to see…
Wow, alley-hoop to Igudala from Webber, puts it through one handed, seriously: get. Him. More. Shots.
I need a commercial break; this is where football may be more conducive to this approach.
10-6 Wolves. Our defense can be described in many words, sadly all of them can be consolidated into: porous.
Webber gets a dunk. “Maybe this will get his shot going”
Maybe it will, but thus far that statement has been made after every successful attempt for him all season and it has only proven true twice. Maybe once and a half. Do people realize he is shooting significantly worse then Iverson this year?
Webber dunks again, and one. I don’t even know what to say; it’s as if life itself has a vested interested in me being wrong. That’s alright though; I’m not too fond of life anyway… she’s a bitch.
My bitch.
Sorry, if you read sinfest.com that was mildly amusing. Trust me.
Webber is about to shoot his free throw and I’m putting the laptop down, I’ll see you all in five… to ten.
Garnett, dunk. KG is jogging back and something is hanging out of his mouth, I think its Webbers pride. It’s surely not his defensive effort as there isn’t nearly enough for a mouthful.
Garnett three, Webber answers with jumper… game on. By the way, by game on I mean this has as much a chance of working out well for us as the Sixers have of winning the title this year. Exactly the same probability factor: 900 - 1.
Hm… Vegas has it as 25-1. I’ll agree to disagree here.
Korver is out in favor of John Salmons. I have to say, I have really enjoyed the work of Salmons this year, I can’t believe he is a legitimate NBA player. I mean, should he be the first man off the bench for a quality team? No way. Does the fact that he is exactly that man for us speak volumes as to the relative quality of our reserves? Yes it does.
That being said, I’m so pleasantly astonished that he is coming into games this year and it doesn’t seem like someone is playing a joke on the fans by putting him out there, that I can’t help but be happy with the development.
So, I guess I don’t mind him coming in for Korver.
Oh, the first quarter us over. We are down by 5.
Iverson is shooting poorly but keeps shooting, normally this isn’t good, as a matter of fact usually this is an 18-car pileup type scenario, but he is doing so many other things and playing so hard that he’s still carrying the team out there. We’re within 2 and on a 6-0 run. Matt Barnes is in, I don’t have enough space in all the internet to discuss my feelings on him.
Turnover. Dunk the other way, we are down by 4.
Garnett is out! Michael Olowokandi is in. In other great news the Haitian Sensation also checks in, we were starting to catch too many passes out there anyway… I love Sammy.
Holy crap, Matt Barnes just made a jumper. His first as a Sixer. And Wally hits one in his face at the other end. Barnes is allegedly a defensive specialist, of course.
Salmons with a hard twisting layup. Finally, he’s been struggling lately and needed that. Not getting any calls, most refs still look at him like the guy he was last year… that guy couldn’t get a call playing the role of the victim in an on-court homicide. And in case you are curious, yes, Salmons was fouled during the layup he just made. If he can survive until the refs adjust to his being an actual player he’ll have a nice career. If he doesn’t, two words:
Terrell Davis.
On a “Sixers chance to win a championship as defined earlier” scale.
Webber is having a fantastic game so far, but, as always, when he has good games he just seems to fall into them. He doesn’t look like he controls that kind of thing as much as you want a guy to. Here is what I mean:
Webber will get lots of rebounds… if lots of rebounds come to the spots where he is, relatively. He seems like that with everything.
He makes another jumper and brings us to within one. I can’t believe this is working.
Webber eats Babies.
Matt Barnes makes a driving floater. Close… well, weird enough anyway.
Jaric is killing us. I hate him more then words can imply. As a member of the ESPN2kSports NBA05 Los Angeles Clippers he tore me and Dave a new one in the game of his life. He was, literally, unstoppable… double teaming him with Sean Marion and Andre Igudala only seemed to anger him, that whole experience, it was horrible.
Jaric just stole the ball, missed a layup at the other end, got his own rebound, and nailed a three. I can’t even describe what this feels like. Reliving a nightmare? Close, but without the right twisted psychological tang. Reliving a nightmare… in reverse.
We are down 4, Webber great look to Sammy… but he doesn’t catch it cleanly and is late with the layup, he misses it and the Wolves get a dunk at the other end. Conclusion: I want to know if we can equip Samuel with some sort of robot arms. Sticky gloves. Finger extenders. Something. Anything. A woven basket.
Garnett blocks Iverson, he is now 4-14. How we are within 6 is beyond me.
Szczerbiak for three, we are down 9… I feel a lot more comfortable with the world.
Haitian Sensations attempt is sent into the third row by the Kandi Man, I love this game.
There is a sequence that just happened where: Sammy almost lost the ball 3 times, tried to cross over Kandi, Igudala threw the ball off of Garnett’s leg back to himself, and missed a layup… and Webber got an offensive rebound and a dunk. This is how you run an offense.
That got us going though, Iverson with a fantastic layup, Igudala with an offensive board and putback, and we are tied. Incredible.
SAMMY LOOMING! The boy is a tremendous shot blocker though, god bless him. I even like how he gets one or two goaltending calls against him a game. Shades of the Hoyas. Hm, maybe he is doing it to appease Iverson. If he is, crafty plan, though it would be craftier if he just caught the ball when Iverson passed it to him.
We are tied heading into halftime at 44-44. We have a good shot here, if we play better. We played a really shitty half and we are tied, if we play a good second half (i.e. if Iverson picks it up) we have a good chance of winning. No one is in foul trouble, which is fantastic, for Sammy this is literally the first time this year.
If he can stay out of foul trouble he is, more or less, exactly what we need out there. That’s how big this is. He really is a fantastic fit for the franchise; I really liked resigning him this summer. I like a lot of things about him. Everything except the hands. One day… maybe utilizing reptilian DNA regenerative properties combined with cutting edge stem cell research to re-grow, I don’t know… certain body parts… we will have a great starting center.
Oh, and his decision making is spotty. But I’m not even close to being ready to discuss that right now. Today is Monday, Monday is hands day.
The wolves are 6/13 from the three point line. I really have no idea how we are winning this game. Actually, that’s not true; I know exactly how we are winning this game.
Webber is too often lazy on defensive boards, and he is a republican.
We are a go.
Garnett makes jumper. Oh yeah, on the other hand he could wake up and then our chances of winning take a decisive turn for the worst.
Korver answers Wally’s jumper with one of his own. I am pleased with the symmetry.
Sammy with a jumper of his own, answering Anthony Carter. I don’t know what that means. I am pleased Sammy made a jumper though.
Sammy, D board.
Sammy kills Szczerbiak, drills him in the face with an elbow… fairly inadvertent. Honestly, I’m not exactly crying. He just gave a black-eye to the other teams leading scorer. Sammy does have three fouls now; the watch for four is on.
Mo Cheeks, clearly affected by my concern, sits tall lanky down for a spell. Hunter comes in, I am glad he is back in the lineup, I liked him last year in Phoenix and I like him here. I stand by that.
Szczerbiak misses a wide open three, seriously, next play. If you are a sixer fan, tell me, are you complaining? The Haitian Sensation indeed.
When Webber double clutches his jumper he makes it like 25% of the time. He makes only 30% of his jumpers anyway but comeon, I don’t think what you need here is an added degree of difficulty.
Down by three Iverson, he is fantastic at this, just grinding out points when the offense isn’t running well and you need a bucket. Gets to the line and sinks two to bring us within one.
We make a defensive stop and Webber kills a jumper (doesn’t double clutch), nice timing here.
Steve and Mark are right, Igudala needs to take it to his man when he has this kind of an advantage in strength and athleticism, Wally is guarding him. Instead he misses a fadeaway and the Wolves score on the other end.
Again down by three and Iverson makes a driving layup to bring the Sixers within one, again, he is great at this. Back and forth game and every time the wolves threaten to get ahead by five or six he gets points and keeps it even.
Korver with a three after a defensive stop. We’re up by two and the Wolves call a timeout. Sometimes I really enjoy this team.
Good D out of the timeout but gave up the offensive board… nothing good can come from this. Foul on floor. Stopped again, got the board, very will done. Hunter is playing hard in there, got an offensive board after a Webber jumper but missed the putback.
Garnett with jumper and we are tied.
Korver draws a charge on Garnett, this is why I say Kyle Korver is an underrated defender. Discuss.
And he can certainly do that, Korver jumper, Sixers by two. One minute left in the third.
Webber with a driving two handed dunk through the lane! My god, every time he plunges in there like that, given his shape now, I really worry for his long term well being. It just looks like a body being tossed out of a club. The old Al Bundy collar throw.
End of quarter and we are up by four. This is going well, and Iverson is still having a really quiet game. But, again, he is doing the little things. This is what he is so much better at doing the last two years, he manages the game a lot better, he affects it more without having to score as much.
Seriously, Chris Webber is a poop head.
We are up by six.
Wally makes a three, three point game now and Garnett is on the bench… we really need to come out ahead here he will not be on the bench long.
Nice, Iverson misses a shot and they get another basket. We call a timeout. He had Hunter open under the basket. Sometimes I really hate this team.
The range of emotion I experience during an average basketball game is, I think, most closely approximated by female menstruation.
Speaking of, apparently our entire bench is now on the floor. It’s Iverson and a group of nondescript yokels.
Our white guys get a bucket! Together! Randolph, Barnes, and Korver combine on a bucket! The Korver pass deflected pass, to the Barnes missed layup, to the Randolph putback. So, now we know, now we have the answer.
It takes three.
Randolph with dunk! Crazy pass by Iverson! We are up by seven! All is forgiven, no, no, don’t say a word. It’s not you… it’s me, because… you see… I love you.
Randolph gets excited and fouls Jaric, I don’t necessarily look at this as a bad thing. Horrible timing though, we were on a run and with eight minutes left this was an opportunity to do major damage. Especially with Garnett still on the bench. What he is doing there, I am not the kind of man who can give you an answer.
Randolph gets an awkward offensive board and passes to Korver whose three is blocked by Szczerbiak, the symmetry disturbs me. But now Szczerbiak travels… it all evens out.
Randolph to the line, this is like the third pass Iverson has thrown to him… he has caught two. This is a good sign. Even Webber likes him! Slapped his ass on the way to the bench, the words “atta boy” come to mind.
Salmons with a three to extend the lead to eight, this can only be described as: unlikely.
We are up by six with five minutes to go. I am terror personified. Garnett is back in the game, but so is Webber. It’s ok though, because Webber is way to slow to close out on Garnett’s jumper and he will kill us with it. I firmly believe this.
WEBBER WITH MONSTER DUNK!!!
(Holy shit are you kidding me, I can’t believe this is happening)
Oh, yes I can. Webber just got a technical for showboating after the said dunk.
Korver. Just. Dunked.
And One.
I will no longer even pretend to understand the events that unfold before me tonight.
We are up by eight with three minutes to go. Big offensive position. Igudala takes a three and misses. I like the play though, and he was wide open. If anything I think Iverson got it to him a bit late, but he still needs to make that.
The refs are horrible in this game, Garnett was just mauled… however, on that play, Korver played fantastic help defense. This is my entire point with him. He’s not Artest, he’s not even good… but he is not a huge liability, if you can surround him with other good defenders. Though this point is also why he is ideally a bench player, he’s a freaking fantastic bench player. It bothers me that he starts for us.
Three point game, minute and a half. We have the ball. This is huge, out of the timeout. Jaric fouls Iverson on the floor. This is five on him and he is on the bench, I’m not sure why.
Iverson misses jumper, minute left. Szczerbiak drills three to tie the game. Minnesota is on a ten nothing run. Wolves steal the ball, we are down two. I am seriously considering never watching sports again.
Thirty five seconds.
Igudala to Webber! Great look inside by Iggy, he was trapped on the baseline underneath the basket with the defense collapsing and found Webber in the paint for a short hook. He is an underrated passes. He’s slightly underrated in general, by people who are reasonable. By your average NBA fan, he’s probably overrated. This is a good litmus test. Feel free to use it next time you are in a conversation with someone who you suspect is an NBA fan. Then run.
Wolves have the ball, tie game, 23 seconds. They are playing for last shot. On the elbow, Garnett. Webber is alone on him…
Jumper, wow, good closeout by Webber, forced a tough shot… Garnett actually kind of double clutched it, or rather bent at an awkward angle… I don’t know, Garnett is weird. Very difficult to accurately describe what he does. Overtime, I need to pee.
Webber wins the tip-offs. Against Garnett. I feel great about that.
We turn it over and Garnett makes a fadeaway to put the Wolves up by two. Right.
Webber answers with a jumper.
Webber tough D on KG. (They are not calling anything in this game. By tough defense I mean Webber is literally grabbing Garnett by the bicep with one hand and around the waist with another, it’s actually pretty funny)
Jaric with a layup, damn it all.
Igudala sets up Barnes(I know, no idea why he is in there) and Jaric fouls him… number six. He is out, we have a chance!
Barnes predictably makes one of two, but Webber defenses (love this word) Garnett well, only slightly mauls him, and forces a miss, and …on the other end… MAKES A JUMPER!
One point lead, Steve Mix echoes my sentiment, with a slightly more visual connotation, and happily exclaims, “…and we are on THE SEASAW!” I am now officially fired up. So much so that I just ignored a phone call from my sister; I will pay for that dearly. I have to remember to call her after the game.
Up one with two minutes, Iverson looses the ball as Garnett comes over to help on the drive. Garnett is like Spawn out there, stretching indefinitely.
Webber defenses again! Garnett another miss.
Dammit Chris, Webber gets cocky on the other end, Garnett defenses him right back(not for lack of effort on Webbers part, he threw himself in there) and we commit a foul going the other way.
Both free throws are missed! Carter is an 83 percent shooter; we are still up by one. Webber turns it over! Gets it back! Misses! Blocks Garnett at the other end to preserve the lead!
We call a timeout, Mo knew I needed it, my “one” key is jammed. There are thirty seconds left, we need to get a good shot here. I don’t think Garnett will miss again, I just really really feel bad about the possibility of such a scenario.
Igudala misses an open jumper from the top of the key. This is horrible, they finally came out looking to go to him and he has misses some big open jumpers. I hope we don’t have a ten game stretch ahead of us where he doesn’t take a single jumper and only gets shots on offensive put-backs.
Wolves have the ball with eighteen seconds left, down by one. Let’s see if Webber has another miracle in him.
Webber blocks him!
Shit, out of bounds on Korver and Minnesota will have the ball again with seven seconds left. I don’t know how many more times we can doge this bullet.
The crowd is on their feet!
Now I am echoing Steve Mix.
… …white guy … to Garnett, Webber steal! Loose ball!
Minnesota ball with .4 seconds left.
Don’t do this to me.
…
Garnett airball, sixers win.
Webber is player of the game.
I have no words.
-tony
tough in the paint Current Mood:  terrified Current Music: no |
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Things that I don’t enjoy at the time but always get a kick out of in retrospect #2,438: The total and utter panic I usually experience after writing a particularly “work inappropriate e-mail” to one of my friends, from work. Five minutes later, when I can no longer be absolutely certain of who it was, exactly, that I sent the dirty joke/sappy girlfriend e-mail/death threat to, for a second I break into a cold sweat. That’s always fun, especially when I get to my Sent folder and it’s sorted by sender, which does nothing for me in this scenario. I am then left having to wait an extra few seconds while some demon function figures out the most inefficient way to resort my e-mail by date and possibly bring down the entire computer, if not our exchange server, in the process. There I sit, for several panic ridden seconds listening to my computer make sounds that oddly resemble what I imagine a computer “death rattle” would sound like. It’s these kinds of moments, right before either the confirmation of the intended recipient or a “system failure”, that really magnify the ambiguities of life. I mean, had I a less resource thirsty e-mail client, for instance, I would be only half as insane as I am today…. presumably. I’m sorry; did I say “ambiguities” back there? I mean mind boggling over-simplification and stunning hyperbole. And of this blog, not so much life.
-tony
a flawless weaknessCurrent Mood:  a bear dressed as an angel Current Music: wilson philips - hold on |
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“I have never been surprised by a party, and, to be honest, I don’t think it will ever happen”
Me, a few months ago. Please, try to wade through this attention-desperate quagmire. I wholeheartedly agree that the above is a statement of stunning narcissism. In my defense, I did say that with the understanding of confidence (being as I was speaking to Erin), and in such a case coming off as self-centered doesn’t really bother me. This is due largely to my girlfriends’ violently clear understanding of the matter; she knows that I’m incredibly self-centered. Thankfully I haven’t scared her away yet so we’re past the stage where you act a certain way depending on how you want to be perceived. Between the two of us we know, more or less, what we are dealing with and have come to a peace in that regard. I’m self-centered and narcissistic, she is adorable and relentlessly encouraging. We get along quite well.
The other thing Erin has turned out to be, to my unending delight, is unpredictable. I have a thing about being surprised, almost to a point where it’s a little unsettling. I avoid review and trailers of movies I want to see, I won’t read the backs of books, I loathe video game strategy guides, etc. There is something about being in that moment and having no preconceived notion about what is going to happen where my response is completely natural and I love that, whatever it may be. This may speak volumes about my mental state otherwise, and how I view all other interaction as somewhat “scripted”, and to a certain degree this is true. Mostly I prefer to chalk it up to preference and personality idiosyncrasies. It’s just less messy; believe me, neither you nor I want any piece of a dialogue trying to get to the root of why I look at things this way.
Somewhere in Asia a butterfly just did not flap it’s wings. Yes, it was that close.
All that being said, and for reasons that we will, for the time being, place in a pile labeled “mind-bendingly convoluted”; I am a fan of being surprised. That being said, I have never been surprised for a party. Which neatly takes us back to my opening foray, and the simple fact that up until very recently I did not think that it was possible. I over think practically everything, this isn’t news, this isn’t a revelation, this is almost something that is redundant in even its appearance in an entry. However, the way I looked at it was that in any given surprise there is always a tip off, someone always slips, something out of the ordinary must happen. I always assumed that at times around my birthday any such event would draw the piercing ire of my minute obsessed intellect and at some point, being self-centered, I would consider the possibility that this even is a prelude to a party (For me!? You shouldn’t have!). Once that happens, once I even consider it, the moment the surprise occurs(if it does) the first thing I will think about it is that moment earlier with an immediate “Ah-HA!”
Never mind the fact that this basically means I sabotage my own potential enjoyment of an event. Again, the psychological ramifications are… verbose.
On top of me considering myself virtually surprise proof there is also the timing of my birthday. Throwing me a surprise party is a logistical nightmare, it is right after thanksgiving and sandwiched in with about 8-10 other friends in the 8-10 day range. Everyone is stressed, everyone wants to do something, and everyone ends up half-assing everything.
Between Erin and Dave they were able to overcome all this with a cunning that is usually reserved for the Mrs. Christie protagonist Poirot. I was, as I answered the query roughly 23,543 times that night, very surprised. I know there is footage of the event somewhere and I want to see it. I want to see the first 2-3 seconds when I walk in where I was really astonished. During that period I had nothing, nothing funny to say, no face to make, I think I just went blank as I looked at everyone gathered at my house. When I saw Pudding(Yuri), and I remember it was specifically him for whatever reason, the full gravity of my predicament hit me and I realized that I, in fact, have been had. I then took another few seconds to figure out how I’m supposed to react, completely at a loss for what an acceptable(by my standards) reaction would look like I defaulted to “what would Ron do”.
I quickly called everyone a bunch of assholes.
This is, keep in mind, on the heels of a week earlier Erin surprising me with a birthday dinner at Morimoto. I literally have no words. I am debating having a medal made for her. I mean, what would you do???
In general, on a sentimental note, I do want to thank everyone who was there/involved. Myke, Cyndi, Ron, Art, Kiri, Uji, Yuri, Chris, Shane, Marrissa, Lisa, Mike, Steve, Kathy,Nicholl, James, Ryan, Jeff, Jamie, and obviously, Dave and Erin. To most of you I especially want to extend a thank you considering how socially unavailable I’ve been as of late, I owe each and every one of you at least a beer at some point and I plan to make good on that in the coming year. It was all, very much, appreciated. If I forgot anyone explicitly, I apologize, this is off the top of my head and that night is kind of a blur.
Note: I think it’s borderline insane to make an issue out of who attended and who did not for interpersonal reasons. What then drives that reasoning well past the point of acceptable lunacy is then going on to blame Erin for only inviting certain people. (Note, I’m about to sound like a total jackass) You have to realize her only intent was to surprise me, and for me to have a good time, and that everything else was more or less irrelevant. If you can’t grasp that within the framework of this event your lack of an invitation is not a reflection of anything other then Erin’s perception of my enjoyment, based on available information, of it; I can’t help you.
I’m not defending anyone; and I’m not here to start anything. I’m only pointing out that any ill will in this regard is grossly misplaced, and I think you may be missing the point.
Also, the following are things that are currently on my mind and may necessitate a journal entry. If anyone is particularly interested, or has an opinion on any of these by all means… it will greatly motivate me to update on that topic. And since you are reading this, I imagine that would please you. As is my aim.
-the path of neo video game, haven’t had this much fun in years… oddly enough.
-the fall of the Philadelphia eagles, I can write a short book on this, and by short I mean Ann Rand like.
-the trials and tribulations of the Philadelphia 76ers, AI having a season for the ages solidifying his standing as a one of a kind player, the Haitian Sensation and his ineptitude on the offensive end, Igudala becoming one of my favorite players to watch, Kyle Korver and the Ashton Kutcher syndrome, Webber shooting a worse percentage then Iverson, and a bench that I could be a key contributor on, provided that Mashburn doesn’t play of course (dripping with sarcasm there). I have lots of thoughts here.
-Chuck Klosterman, particularly the last two books. I just finished reading them and am having trouble on focusing one aspect that I want to cover specifically… there is A LOT
-In business, what is the price of success, how far on the limb do you need to go to succeed and in what capacity, how to balance “shooting for the stars” so to speak, and a dependable source of income. This has been occupying my brain for the last year or so, so, there is a lot to get out.
-HBO’s Rome, finished watching the first season, it’s sensational. Yes, I have more then just that. It’s also spectacular.
-tony
In that sense, rebornCurrent Mood:  slightly levitating Current Music: ima robot - scream |
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Tell me if you feel me here. Or, conversely, if I have reached a level of condescending amusement that precludes me from tangibly feeling anything, or anyone…. and thus, you don’t.
Quick game of six degrees; please, hold the panic in. I read Bill Simmons(the Sports Guy) a lot. A few years back he did a running exchange with the late, great, Ralph Wiley (1) in which they covered a multitude of topics using an e-mail style back and forth format. Since then Simmons has done this with a few other people, recently, and notably Chuck Klosterman who is also promoting a new book. The hipster of you without a doubt know him, and maybe even threw up in your mouth a little just right there.
Given that I am in “the market” for new reading material I was all, ctrl-N +amazon.com over that shit. Luckily the book by Klosterman that I am more interested in is popular enough to not only warrant a cover picture, but also a sample excerpt. Keep in mind, Klosterman is, in a generalization so sweeping it makes most stereotypes seem “to a fault”, a rock critic. A rock critic for Spin no less. (Fragment… consider revising) However, that’s not particularly what drew me to him (To be fair, I don’t think those specific archetypes have ever drawn anything to anyone. No one exclaims, “a music critic from Spin!?!? I would love to hear his views on a whole range of topics!!!” Right? Though we have all at one point or another exclaimed, “A music critic from Spin!?!? I would love to hear the sound he makes throughout the whole range of motion of the sole of my boot crushing his larynx irreparably!!!” I think that’s how we all feel in a, again, sweeping generalization. If it doesn’t apply to you feel free to fuck off, in a very unique way… I’m sure. This aside has gone on for so long at this point I have no choice, I’ll have to start a new paragraph or risk loosing all coherency, which right now is minimal as it is.)
The thing that intrigued me about Klosterman is his view on everything, he just seems like the kind of man who would not only be totally open to, but would seriously consider the implication of things like: My groundbreaking theory on the bizzaro parallels between the 1995 Orlando magic and the present day Houston Rockets (believe me, you can’t wait until I unleash this on the world. Riots… in… the streets). So, it’s the fascination with the frivolous and deriving meaning from it, I believe. In the back of my head however the thought still lingered, “He’s a Spin critic… I can’t completely buy into this… He’ll turn on me faster than Radiohead can pump out another CD full of waste pellets that intermittently flush with a dull shine of half digested ideas run through the ok-really-we-haven’t-cared-for-years machine”. Let’s face it, the girl can be really hot and have a great butt and talk a good game… but if she’s missing a leg, she’s still kinda lame.
Yes, freestyle.
Freeform.
Cultural/spiritual freefall, technically.
Anyway, I’m reading the sample chapter from "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs" on Amazon, when I get to the following passage: “Fake love is a very powerful thing. That girl who adored John Cusack once had the opportunity to spend a weekend with me in New York at the Waldorf-Astoria, but she elected to fly to Portland instead to see the first U.S. appearance by Coldplay, a British pop group whose success derives from their ability to write melodramatic alt-rock songs about fake love. [I pause for a second… keep reading] It does not matter that Coldplay is absolutely the shittiest fucking band I’ve ever heard in my entire fucking life, [I pause again, thinking that, this is too good to be true… Spin, right? I “check myself” and keep reading] or that they sound like a mediocre photocopy of Travis” [I open a new window, take out my credit card and make the “kill”]. This is how little it takes for me to admire you by the way, just say things I already agree with back to me in a way I haven’t thought of yet. Powerful concept.
1 – Collection of essays, outstanding. Bonus for looks you get from middle aged white folks (in my case, parents) while reading this.
Tomorrow: Further thoughts and potential approaches to writing self-reviews. A proper explanation of what "Tomorrow" means exactly. My stance on blogs in general, and more specifically, what am I trying to accomplish exactly here. Quick preview: not much. And, more..
-tony
in time, saves nine
Nov. 17th, 2005 @ 02:13 pm
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| » In a turn of events that surely signals the end for all... |
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...I have to write a self-review for work. The prospect of a self-analysis within the scope of my professional functionality utilizing the framework defined by our HR department (and the flip of a two sided coin somewhere along the way, I am sure) is a fantastically paralyzing concept to me. I don’t mean to imply that I am at a loss for words when asked a simple question such as, “how are you doing at work?” That is not the case. My brain simply becomes overloaded at the prospect of such an open ended query with the topic so closely related to, well, me, and with boundaries, as, again, defined by HR department, nowhere in sight.
I’m sure that was a lot of to take in, reward yourself with a 10 minute break from thought.
… I don’t know, go watch CNN or something.
Welcome back. We are discussing the logistics of me writing a self review. The fact that I feel overloaded with possible directions I can go with this undertaking isn’t exactly a surprise. Keep in mind, within these words you are dealing with a man for whom the mere act of opening his eyes in the morning and registering light is enough to come dangerously close to a devastating aneurysm. I over-think things, and no, not in a “I listen to Emo and hurt because I feel and think too much” way. I take a decidedly more utilitarian approach to my dementia. You see, when something happens that is related to me, it is my brains sacred duty to think about all the possible avenues of action. Given the nature of the world, the avenues are infinite. And there you are. Quite simple, and with a lot less rhythmic distortion and screaming… which I do enjoy truth be told. Fuck, I think I’m Emo.
Irregardless, you can be an Emo, or you can be an Emu. The only thing you can’t be… is the president. At least I can’t. I wasn’t born in this country… something about promoting from within.
I don’t know, I just remember it was one of the first things I heard in this country when we landed. True story. The first INS guy we saw as we stepped off the plane cracked to our group, “welcome to America, you can be anything you want to be here… except the president”. It was translated to me. I’m still trying to figure out exactly how to take that. At the moment I am leaning towards “retroactively insulting”… but that could just be the bad coffee I had this morning.
The problem I have with writing a self-review is I’m not definite of the goal of this exercise. The way I see it, it can fall in two categories. It’s either a way to make the jobs of managers writing actual reviews easier. In which case it’s patiently absurd. Or, it’s a way to do actual self assessment so that those interested in careers can get a different prospective (oddly enough from themselves) on their progress and possible areas where they can use improvement. In this case it’s actually a good idea, but it will only work for something like 10% of the work force.
Kids, what happens when no decision is made? That’s right! It’s your favorite friend and mine: INDECISION!
I was made to attend a meeting regarding this new form of self mutilation. During the ordeal I brought up that very question, namely, in which direction do they want us to go with this. Is this supposed to be a form of self-back-slapping, or is this a serious endeavor and are they aware that in that case it will fail. Basically, this question can be worded as follows (which is the exact wording I used):
Will these self-reviews directly impact our end of the year bonus?
You know me too well if you know that, the moment our HR representative paused unsure of herself when faced with my query, I launched into a verbose clarification. I pointed out all of the above, namely that if you make the bonus a function of the self-review (it is right now a function of the managers’ review) you are ensuring that all you will get is useless lists of things people think they did well. On the other hand, if you make the review specifically about identifying areas where improvement is necessary, the majority won’t take them seriously.
The answer to my question consisted of, (I’m paraphrasing here) “a little of column A, and a little of column B”. Yes, and I love you and you love me… and indecision is all that I see.
So, this is where you find me. Unsure of what the hell is wanted from me and procrastinating by writing a journal entry about it. I’m convinced this is happening because I’ll never get to live out my life long dream of becoming the president of this country.
…and pass a law that ensures your car automatically explodes when you don’t use turn signals properly.
Tomorrow: follow up to this whole review mess, an explanation of my return to this space(and why I don’t want to talk about it), and my “sent mail” anxiety.
-tony
the confidence of silence
Nov. 14th, 2005 @ 05:41 pm
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| » (No Subject) |
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test
Oct. 26th, 2005 @ 11:45 am
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So I'm reading the Fountainhead, and it's good an all, if not a bit redundant and blunt, like the force a dentist's drill. So I thought I'd give it a shot, and try to write a "missing section" of the Fountainhead. It's still a work in progress.
Dominique looked into Roark's eyes, which were like hard steel, reflecting her brutal hatred back at her. This seemed to carry the double insult of his being aware of her disdain and not letting it penetrate his cold, hard frame. She wished that he would strip her naked right there, and his look, as much as his immutable spirit, showed just how acutely aware he was of this fact. The best thing he could have done for her is kick her in the cooter (edit), at least the physical sensation would have been something tangible, something that she could bear. She knew that this was Roark's plan all along, and she was as helpless to resist it as she was to be ensnared by it. She felt the silence, amplified by the stillness of Roark's body, was deafening. She knew that she would break, he knew it too, but it gave her pleasure to feel the agony of that moment, the climax before she thrust herself into his arms, violently resisting him with the stillness of a crucified lamb.
I know, I should have thrown in "diffident" in there somewhere.
Oct. 23rd, 2005 @ 09:49 pm
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| » savagery |
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(I wrote this last week and forgot to post it, be like Mandy Moore… deal)
On the topic of Randy Moss:
http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=2137525
In a broken, and sometimes tantalizingly painful to read, English Randy Moss of the Oakland Raiders has admitted to something involving Marijuana.
Now, I’m not sure what it is he admitted to doing. To be honest, from reading he article my estimates range from “every day since he was a wee lad”, to “he did it once back in BC… before he was technically alive”. Like, you know. Or, more accurately, you’re guessing. (I think you may have to read his quotes in the article to get that… or have the gift of clairvoyance, whatever is easier for you really)
Now, I could care less about Randy Moss. His ass can be toking on a still kicking medium sized mammal nightly, for all I care. Here is my question though, what’s the big deal? The NFL is now looking into this interview, his coach is saying he has to have a talk with Randy, his agent is saying that HBO is just trying to make him look bad (he also characterizes HBO as a dying network which is… whatever, I’d just like a point of contrast in that case, who is doing well then?) Clearly, this is starting to ramp up to full fledged national hysterics.
My only question would be, should he be suspended or given a medal? Because, really, pot… not as effective a performance enhancer as you might think. Unless your area or performing is “Whose Line is it Anyway” I don’t think it’s the kind of substance that will give you a competitive advantage. Given the numbers Moss has put up in his 7 years in a league, if smoking was a common occurrence for him, I’ll be honest my first emotion is awe. Frankly, it shouldn’t be possible. Though I guess it goes explain him taking plays “off”, kinda spaced for a second there eh?
-tony
highly decorated
Aug. 22nd, 2005 @ 12:33 pm
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| » Top Gear Is Fun |
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There is something I so thoroughly enjoy about the British lexicon that sometimes upon hearing a particularly “right side of the Atlantic” comment I have to remind myself just to breathe. It’s crazy, it’s almost as if sarcasm is built right in. No assembly necessary. And it’s great because it’s not like our sarcasm either, you know? You have your typical, “Yeah, I love sucking balls, dude” type of American sarcasm, and its fine and well and let’s face I’ve never been one to kick that monkey out of my bed. But the British would say, something like, [brit accent]“While I would love nothing more than to stand here and metaphorically sodomize you, I have a pressing engagement I must attend to that involves a practically indescribable amount of pain being focused on my left shin”. [/brit accent]
See!?! You don’t know what that means either. But you’re pretty sure that wanker just blew you off, or didn’t… depends on his accent I guess.
I don’t know, maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s that the grass is always greener. Or maybe it’s their devastating cultural dominance and a sense of self that America is about 3 thousand years away from discovering. Which is, coincidentally, exactly 2,500 years after we will have, and I quote, “just fuck up everything, everywhere, irreparably”.
Sums things up nicely for three words, right?
What brought this on? Tangentially, Top Gear. Specifically? Having watched Top Gear until late at night, coming into work having not slept an adequate amount and to chill out looking up Top Gear and reading some of their articles, seeing the phrase, “Looking like a psychotic wheelbarrow, the new Batmobile doesn't fall into the trap of being limp-wristed.”
See? Yes. There you are, takes us right into the beginning. Just breathe.
-tony
all the rage
Aug. 1st, 2005 @ 12:02 pm
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| » making rasheed wallace look stable |
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…and he said, “Squeal pig”.
To which the pig replied, “How high?”
The pig was submissive, but hardly stupid. He was merely stalling. Waiting. Scheme Scheme. Plot Plot.
Then the pig devised a coup, overthrew the tyrannical man, started wearing top hats, made glue out of a horse and became a communist. This is Animal Farm, stop me if you’ve heard it before.
There is a lesson here, trust me. That lesson is: you can start a journal entry in a number of different ways, but as far as I’m concerned, nonsense works best. And you can GOAT me on that.
In general I feel that the blame can be placed on both parties, the pig and the man. Yes, with that again. Please, get a barf bag if that is what it will take to keep you quiet. The man was stupid because, while he had the power, he never realized that it is best used in a subtle fashion because he still needed the pig from a purely logistical standpoint. Pig = Magical. We learned this in third grade, or the 4th season on the Simpsons… depends which educational timeline you are operating on. The pig is, well a pig, and can only imitate, despite it’s magical origins, which are all physiological anyway. I mean, let’s face it, yes it is magic and all, but its magic the same way that Asian dude can eat his body weight in hot dogs. Amazing, to be sure, but nothing most people would strive to replicate in their own lives. What I mean is, not many people have a life long dream of having the ability to be consumed by humans in 1001 different delectable ways. At least not in these here parts, I can’t vouch for North Dakota. No one can.
One step forward. Two steps diagonally backwards.
The pig, being subservient and a fucking pig, never had a chance. Best case scenario was always that he ends up exactly like the man was, what else could he be? The pig never had a father figure, just a tyrannical farmer. If our model for god is a tyrannical farmer your ass would end up a communist too. And you’re not even a pig, unless you are. And you got a hoof-friendly keyboard. And are hoofing around the internet now, plotting.
-tony
the best kind of danger
Jul. 29th, 2005 @ 03:05 pm
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| » Quiet or loud |
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If someone would be so kind as to indulge me and please explain something I would be grateful beyond words. (Coincidentally, since that is the medium of communication/interaction here you’ll basically get nothing, and beyond… but let’s not focus on that) For, what is now, a hefty chunk of my life I have attacked this quandary with the same ferocity that has surely possessed Robert DeNiro in selecting his movies the last few years. Quick aside:
They are making another Fockers movie. Is it that we as a society are unable to say “Enough!” outside the confines of a Jennifer Lopez movie? Or is this some sort of a self mutilation type ordeal that the whole country needs group therapy for? Which is it? I’m fucking dying to know. Is it karma for the Jimmy Fallon vehicles? The Patch Adams debacle? People are worried that we are going to be bombed by fundamentalist jihadists, I would contend that the kind of bombs Hollywood is dropping on us are nearly as devastating. Can we declare war on Jerry Brockheimer? If you think the general public will have a hard time swallowing it I can come up with a six degrees to 9/11 argument that is at least as plausible as the one our administration gave for Iraq. So… I have no point, I just can’t believe that “Meet the Parents” is now at the very least a trilogy. It wasn’t bad, but hardly epic.
Back to my question. Back to reality. First let me qualify by saying this I’m not nearly as white as I look. I appreciate and thoroughly enjoy hip-hop culture. Granted I’m not really all up on ‘fity and his massacring of one thing or another(good taste and DMX’s marketing concept) and the only time I really see Ludicrous is in low budget sequels On Demand. But that kind of thing aside I have a very healthy obsession with Mos Def, Blackalicious, Talib, somewhat kanye as of late… you get the idea. That being said, can someone please answer me… what is the deal with Missy Elliot? What am I missing? Is it that her lyrics are so thought provoking and delivered in such an avant garde fashion that it completely offsets the fact that there is nary a melody to be found in any of her tracks I’ve been unjustly exposed to? Because I don’t think that’s it. You’re signing about a penis. You like a big penis. Um, I get it. And by the way, there are much more clever euphemisms for that sort of endeavor. So, if anyone has any thoughts as to what it is that I do not understanding here, by all means. Drop a “MISSY ROX!!!! YOU SUX!!!!” type comment. El oh el.
I’ll update more later. Yes, really. I’d add it to this entry but I don’t want anyone accidentally reading the whole thing and breaking their “limit for words to be read in a day” resulting in an aneurysm. Stack overflow.
-tony
I’ll be waving my hand, watching you drown
Jul. 14th, 2005 @ 10:45 am
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| » two words |
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If there was ever a time and a place to make a journal entry, that time is here and the place is now. I'm seizing the moment. In the face.
Things that renewed my faith in humanity, item #3,756: Eggs Benedict. Now, probably not unlike yourself, I enjoyed this breakfast item for years now without ever experiencing its full awesome potential. Here is the problem, anywhere I have ever requested this, it was always made with ham, or Canadian bacon. Maybe it's my fault that I didn't notice it sooner, maybe it's that I eat in shitholes that wouldn't know cuisine from cousin whilst felating one and butchering the other. Irregardless of the role I played in this charade, up until now, its all become startlingly clear. There is no way in hell man was meant to consume this with fucking ham. Think about it, hasn't it always felt weird? The texture was wrong making the eating experience feel like a complicated dance you were doing on crutches... in a blindfold. The taste of the meat did nothing to complement the rest of the components. Bottom line? It always left me slightly disappointed. Until this weekend. Some brunch place in Boston(Dave feel free to drop a name), there it was on the menu: "Eggs Benedict with Salmon". Wait a minute, what? Really? I'll try that!
You haven't lived until you'd had an epiphany like this. It's like suddenly everything made sense, the delicate taste and texture of the salmon complimenting the eggs and sauce with a smoothness that would make Dr. J blush. The slight fishy tang swirling in and out of the forefront of your taste buds... I think that at one point I was actually asked, if I would be so kind, as to put my pants back on or step outside.
Fairly innocuous way to make the first entry in decades, I admit.
I don’t really have anything of note to say but am nevertheless compelled to speak. Type. The terror that is the dreaded pure stream of consciousness approach is right before us children. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t even breathe.
Good, I feel that was sufficiently dramatic.
Completely despite myself I have been drawn into cursorarily following politics. Yes, cursorarily. I’ve got that conjugation fever. And I’m burning like the Nile River.
As in, not.
But anyway. I say despite myself because I know what lies at the of the knowledge/understanding tunnel that’s labeled “Politics in the US”. Once you wade through all the bullshit, the partisan spin, the corporate sponsored news outlets, the militant hippies and men of questionable scruples forcing personal agendas down your throat under the guise of morality you arrive at an oasis. It is lush and luminous; you see everything clearly and understand things three acts before they occur. There is even a note waiting there for you. It reads, “Congratulations, you have reached the end of the tunnel, you have now either abandoned or compromised most of your principles and beliefs and have probably rationalized away your soul. You no longer have any faith in humanity and rightly so, it will never be better. The best we can hope for is “not as worse’. You might as well run for public office. Have a good time and don’t forget to tip the guy with the horns”.
My, convoluted, point is. I know the endgame. I know the basic premise of our system and the same problem haunts it that haunts organized religion.
The twin horror of logic and common sense. HAR HAR.
I kid I kid. The problem is it’s not about the individual, it is about a whole. Within that whole you cannot hope to advance unless you adopt, if not all, as many of the party/religion beliefs as possible whether or not they are congruent with your own. Given a large enough sample of people statistically it is highly unlikely for them to all think and believe the same thing. It then follows that your personal beliefs go the way of the proverbial, and literal, dodo.
Playing into this is this country’s collective, how should I put this… state of complete and utter retardation. How can I possibly be bothered to actually find out what certain people that will run this country stand for? I’ve got shit to widdle. The fact that the news is generally, well, not so much… doesn’t help. I think we can all agree that most of us see the news as only slightly more credible than then two elderly gray haired men who purportedly intend on giving you millions of dollars if you just buy some magazines. So here is what you have…hold on… [grabs a soap box] …. Stupid masses, with crap being spewed at them from all directions by men who don’t even regard them as human beings but talk about being servants to the citizens. And yes, this includes your politicians, your in-depth investigative reporters, your holier-than-thou entertainers, religious leaders and completely arbitrary activists who may or may not stand for something… but whatever it is, they are helping you!
So, I think we’ve all just accepted that we’re being lied to 90% of the time. Hell, that doesn’t even daunt us anymore. We’ve evolved beyond it. We’re now on to selecting our leaders not based on what they say, because they lie, or even what they do, because they lie about that too, we select our leaders using something that they can’t fake… we figure out which one we’d like to have a beer with more. This does put us collectively in a somewhat difficult position of having the voters be exclusively drinkers, but you can’t make an omelet without drinking a cold one first.
Yes some non drinkers do manage to get past the breathalyzers at the voting stations (must be at least .1 to vote) but they are inconsequential as they are basing their decisions on facts and we all know that in today’s political environment those are dicks at a frat party. It’s all the guys talk about while being terrified that someone will actually see one, or that someone sees their. Either way, you’ve gotta be very careful that you don’t catch teh ghay.
Jesus where the hell was I. Um, two party system, loss of personal scruples, retarded populace, constantly lied to by everyone, gay frat boys. Right, so…
We’re fucked. And not in your teen-angst-why-can-t-we-all-just-get-along way, in a more, no-just-given-the-logistics-of-the-situation… we’re fucked. You do realize that if a man came along that was a leader, that was honest and forthcoming that was a decent human being that respected his people… he wouldn’t get elected to his local school board. And if he did swallow his pride and “play the game” by the time he was in a position to do anything of consequence he would be so filled with self hatred that he would probably take it out on the very people that elected him for believing the crap he had to say to get to this point. It’s not about serving people, it’s about selling yourself to them… completely irrelevant is whether or not what you sold them is actually you. Because it isn’t. And if it is, then what you sold them isn’t what your agenda is. The really scary thing is everyone knows this, and everyone talks about it… just not at the podium. So what we have here is that our official policy is, “we’re lying to you”. And lying in and of itself isn’t a big deal either, a much more grievous offense is not reading between the lines of lies.
I don’t know what the solution is. A mass revamping of our education system? There’s no immediate money to be made in that. And no amount of money is going to make kids care. Especially not when most still think we are the smartest in the world, when jobs are being moved to Canada because the population is, gasp, literate.
Yes, all that. Despite all of it some morbid curiosity got me to start reading white house press releases, political message boards, news sites, etc. I don’t think I’ve ever been this particular mixture of sad and fascinated. It is such a strange thing when everyone knows what is being said and done, and everyone may know it’s wrong, but it’s ok because of the way it was worded, or it’s ok because the other side “DOES IT TOO!!! AND THEY EAT BABIES!!!” No one will actually stand up and be accountable for anything. And if they decided to actually take responsibility they’d be crucified, probably literally. The sad thing is, this wouldn’t happen because of whatever it was they took responsibility for. They would be killed on the basis of, “that was a dumb career move, and how can anyone that dumb possibly be a leader???” If on the other hand they, in the face of clear evidence of wrongdoing, basically said nothing, didn’t admit guilt, didn’t deny it… if they just sat there and said:
“I’m sorry I can’t comment on anything relating to the ongoing investigation, or in context of the investigation, or anything that doesn’t help the investigation” (which, let me check, that’s right… covers everything in the world)
Until a bigger news story came long and eventually everyone forgot, they would be lauded as savvy politicians. And you know what, I’d be proud for them to represent me. Maybe we can even get a beer afterwards.
-tony
fuck you, pay me
(note: please look below for a picture of arts cousins dog, I didn’t mean to upstage anyone… I just think we’re on the same cycle)
Jul. 13th, 2005 @ 01:28 pm
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| » Full of ashes and shit |
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The Chappelle show is on a hiatus while Dave is MIA. The Sports Guy has been missing for a week as he has become The Sports Dad. Yesterday I left work to go home and change as I was covered, wait let me clarify that, coated, in blood.
… and I just got a request to redo a report because, “oh, I forgot to tell you the parameters changed”. You think maybe I hear that phrase a lot, but what you don’t know is that it is a frequent enough occurrence to warrant a running spreadsheet in which I document every single minute of time that is wasted by inaccurate data requests… few more weeks… few more weeks, that’s what I keep telling myself. After that? I hope to implement a policy under which asking me for something but not telling me exactly what you need will be punishable by death, and death only, that’s it… nice and simple. I shouldn’t really be complaining I suppose.
It’s a man, shoes, desert, no feet kinda thing.
I’ll be back; once more my creative outburst is stymied by incompetence. For a change of pace, this time it’s not my own. Natch.
…some time passes… and a part of me dies.
Right so, Chappelle, Sports Dad, I’m bleeding. But you see, I go on. I watched in quiet horror A.I., well, I saw the first 30 minutes, when the kid with the big almond shaped eyes says, “what are those words for…. mommy?” I jumped out of bed and nearly broke the land speed record in the distance between my bedding and my DVD player. Yes, I could have just hit eject on the remote, but I was infuriated to a precise degree where the only way to relieve the pressure was to mash on the eject button while muttering obscenities augmented by the act of leaping out of bed which was like the physical manifestation of my anger. Let us never speak of this again.
In case you haven’t picked up on it yet let me make it blindingly clear, these events and a slew of others that I cannot begin to catalog, all precipitate one thing. The coming of the Apocalypse. Please, if you are going to roll your eyes you might as well stop reading because clearly you lack the intellect and moral fiber to see the depth of my perception. The Apocalypse, you see, won’t be a bunch of big explosions, it won’t be a drizzling, followed by possible showers, of amphibians, and it won’t be the polar caps melting (it will happen long before that). What will actually happen is that all the people in the world who can think for themselves and, this is the only way I can describe it, “get it” will throw up their collective hands and say, “fuck this”. There is a good chance that many of them will be driven to this by a reality TV programme of one sort or another. Probably “Simple Life: Government officials” Where Paris and Nicole take a public office and hilarity ensues. Don’t miss the season finale where the girls decide that jails are “just cruel, these people need a second chance” and simultaneously open all jails around the country.
“Ahh” you are thinking, while nodding in nodding slowly “so, reality TV is the problem”. No, not really. The problem is a self-inflicted lack of sleep.
At least it is for me. I can’t even begin to fathom what the fuck is wrong with everyone else, but something clearly is.
There is one hope. There is something we can do. We can all, as a people godammit(no, word, not “goldsmith”… god, damn), look at the world around us, see the problems, understand the problems, fuck it, make love to them like you are Stephen Jackson and they are pressure, and then do something. The people who stand by and watch bullshit slowly roll down a hill and do nothing about it are as just as guilty as gravity. And bull dung. So it’s time to start learning from the Dutch and build a fucking dyke. A damn against this slowly moving pile of metaphorical feces. It’s time we take action. So yes my loyal readers, I need both of you to spread this message to others. Start looking very closely at your surroundings, when you notice things that you know deep down are wrong, don’t just sigh it away like you did your dreams. Stand up and fight…
I recommend doing this by starting a blog. Or updating the one you have, because, seriously, my friends list? Slim pickings and I get bored during lunch. Basically, it’s the only chance we’ve got.
Was going to end it there, with a kind of ah ha! And a woosh of my cape in the wind as in solemn triumph I turn and walk away to the music of a signature along the lines of:
-tony
By the time you get where I'm standing, I'll be gone
Something like that. But like The D, I have to stress something, there are rules man. And penalties will be created and enforced. Namely, in case of disagreement with anything I see written I reserve the right to belittle the author incessantly and long past the point of relevance and reason. Those two are like Rolling Stones and U2 though, overrated.
For instance, while perusing some journal that I got to through six, or twenty seven, degrees of friends’ lists had an overall heading of “Truth is Beauty, and Beauty is Truth”. A glorified piece Tupperware said that, I believe. You remember that thing I did with “fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity”, well; it’s time for round 2. Get a snack, make yourself comfortable, I’m about to fling words. I got your truth right here, and shit ain’t pretty.
Here is the thing. Beauty, by definition is perception. By and large the sentiment that statement is intended to invoke is that there is a beauty that is universal and transcendent. That is not the case, beauty in and of itself is reactive. It is the sensation a person feels akin to love, but not really, it’s more like either a prequel or a sequel. At its purest, as how I imagine it’s intended here, it invokes an emotion from the subject where it connects to them on some level. Truth on the other hand, is universal. Please save me the arguments quoting 1984, I’ve read it more times than you and I know where you are going with it. Implying that truth is also perception is where the second part of the statement in question comes in. Here is the argument, all of reality, and hence truth is subjective and only inside your head, “if you really believe something then it must be true because it’s true to you… you can’t tell the difference”. It’s an interesting discussion but ultimately one that falls into nihilism or some existential bullshit. Go see I <3 Huckabees. If you continue along this line of argument here is where it goes. If beauty is indeed truth, then truth is also in the eye of the beholder and also entirely subjective. If that is the case then there is no universal truth, everything is indeed arbitrary and relative, there is no such thing as definite, there is no never, no all the way, no always, no… wait, love. Having fun yet? The statement in general can be very true on a lot of levels, it is true for similar minded people, for people with a similar set of core values and beliefs real beauty will be universal and transcendent and … well, truth. However, in reality, that is not the case. The statement is wishful thinking with a slight lean towards narcissism. Which is why it is so appealing, romantic, but ultimately it does a disservice to what truth is. Everything in life is not relative, otherwise you wouldn’t feel anything, you need stable constructs in order to have a point of reference. Otherwise, you wouldn’t know beauty even if you saw it in the mirror.
-tony
beautiful but untrue
May. 12th, 2005 @ 01:50 pm
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...this is me bitching.
I swear, right now, right here, this is all I can do to avoid a "freak out". I don't mean that in a hippie-hey-let's-smoke-some-raisins way, what I am talking about has a decidedly more three-state-laughing-and-popping connotation, followed by the largest manhunt in the tri-state area history.
Don't even get me started about the OC, Thursday was the longest day this week, which is like saying, "Iverson had a ridiculous game yesterday"... meaning, it carries more weight then the usual given the subject matter. There was no way that I was going to make it home in time to watch it but luckily I have tremendous roommates who TIVO that kind of shit for me. So, imagine getting home after a 12 hour work day, which is pretty much what the whole week was like, and all you have to look forward to is your favorite show. Ahh... relax, enjoy the first of the last four episodes of the season, and get your mind into a good place. Right.
"The show got cut, Bush wanted to talk about social security instead", lisa. Now, maybe i'm shallow. Maybe the events of an over the top teen drama are more important to me than the state of the country... maybe i'm having a hard time not writing something in here that will land me on FBIs watch list.
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Now it's sunday. It's a nice day out. The sixers are set to tip off in 5 minutes. Me? I'm just hoping that I get out of here in time to make it to the Mars Volta show tonight at 8. Then back to work early in the AM for what will be undoubtedly the longest day of this stretch, deadline is tuesday. I have no words. Well, except for the ones above and if prodded probably another 1203425 or so.
-tony
my silent moments, loud as the crack of thunder
May. 1st, 2005 @ 12:52 pm
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I just wrote a warning to preface this entry and deleted it. I hope the knowledge that there was something you should have known before proceeding forward haunts you until you see a “-tony” followed by a deft exit maneuver. Some call it siggy. Those, some, are not me.
Not I! NOOOT IIIII!!!!!!
Hmm, the letter “I” does not translate very well into the “I’m an overly aggressive brute who has no idea that his caps lock is on” style of writing. I even included a bunch of exclamation signs, but it only made matters worse.
Extreme Engineering is quickly becoming one of my favorite shows on television. The special on Holland Damns… I mean… goddamn… and I’m serious too. I spent the entire one hour with my jaw firmly planted on my chest. Say what you will but I would still argue that the shit people do/accomplish in real life makes fiction look boring in comparison.
There is something about “sayings” that really bothers me.
Hold on, let me rephrase that.
A lot of things bother me, one of those is “sayings”.
Better.
By and large they seem like things that are rarely, if ever, true and/or applicable and are rather a small collection of words akin to something written under the heavy influence of teenage angst and possibly a combination of narcotics\hallucinogens. The problem, of course, is that generally speaking they are attempts at boiling complex issues down to “easy to remember”, “fun to shout”, “looks good on a bumper sticker” arguments. You know, it’s a kind of, “can we put that on a t-shit?”… “well, yes but then…”… “THEN LOGIC BE DAMNED!!!” thing.
I’m sure at this point you want an example(or to cut out your eyes with plastic kindergarten scissors… though if this is the case, seriously, just stop reading… hit that “X” man, top right corner… there you are). Now… we have weeded out the disinterested and are left only with those of the best intentions. So, example? Yes.
“Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity. “
I’d love to hunt down the person that wrote that, get them on their knees and put a shotgun in their mouth like a big black cock of death and pull the trigger. Then I’d do a Bill Hicks salute and move on with my life. But really, for how many bumper sticker that has been on, and how many T-shirts, and for how many neo hippies adopted that as their life philosophy… what the shit does that mean? Are you implying that under no circumstances will fighting ever lead to peace? Well, Jesus, I hate to piss off the pacifists in the crowd (of which I am practically a part of) but that’s just not true.
I’d love it if it were. However, next time a psychopath hell bent on wiping a people off the face of the earth is on a rampage… YOU go talk him out of it. I don’t know; tell him something about fucking for virginity. See how long it’ll be before he kills and fucks you… and everyone you know just because. My point is, there is a time and a place for fighting, and people have and will continue to fight for peace while you entertain delusions of riding rainbow colored mules in lighting bug filled meadows. But we all know this, we really do. What really gets my goose quacking is the “fucking for virginity part”. You know why? You’re trying to think of it now. I’m going to play psychic for a second: You’re having a hard time. Now you’re thinking, “wait a minute, what the fuck does fucking for virginity even mean? How is it related to peace and war?”
Ha! It’s not. The entire premise of this thing is that equates peace to virginity and fighting to fucking… is this starting to sound like some hardcore Christian propaganda bullshit or am I crazy? But what the hell are these people, some neo-hippie-Christians? Because let’s face it, Christianity for all their “love thy neighbor” crap has never been shy about open and brutal conflict, or fighting for their religion, or –fuck it- just fighting because someone out there somewhere doesn’t agree. “we don’t give a fuck if you are on the other side of the globe. we’ll travel a lifetime just to hunt you down and either kill you or convert you” Hmm… throw in Vin Diesel and I think we can argue the merits of The Chronicles of Riddick as historical commentary. But with much better special effects than real life can ever produce.
So, bottom line. That statement perhaps did at some point, somewhere, come from a good place. So far as intent goes. However, as it stands, it’s a bunch of crap that doesn’t mean anything except give the people that prescribe to it a seemingly inarguable line of defense for their beliefs. And that, as I’ve gleaned from my most insightful mental forays into human tendencies, is all most people want. They don’t want to argue, they don’t want to discuss, they just want to be right and be done with it. It’s a lot easier to shout a slogan than it is to rationally discuss your views because the latter could lead to you being wrong. Which brings us full circle, what this statement preaches is the avoidance of conflict but it does this with a message that is as empty of meaning as a Pauly Shore movie that also serves the needs of it’s followers that are too dumb to think for themselves and figure out that war is a bad thing. Hmm… people not thoroughly understanding a problem and instead following a cool sounding slogan that doesn’t mean anything. How do wars generally start again? Yeah, go fuck for some of that virginity.
-tony
this is the noise that keeps me awake
Apr. 18th, 2005 @ 03:48 pm
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So, after batting around a few ideas I think i've come up with a definitive definition for Jimmy Fallon, i.e. what would be in the dictionary next to a picture of him:
A rabid howler monkey treading water in a sea of retarded sexuality and bad poetry.
-tony
this is tony
Apr. 6th, 2005 @ 04:56 pm
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I'm just curious, what was your reaction when you realized that at some point Jimmy Fallon is going to father children that will then go on to father children of their own and that as a people we are almost litteraly powerless to stop him? Because it never hit me with such blinding lucidity until now and I just felt myself die a little inside.
-tony
the great american
Apr. 5th, 2005 @ 01:56 pm
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