Sunday, April 27, 2008

Coffy.....Two sugars...and a SHOTGUN, MOTHAFUCKA.

Click here...dammit

Alright, I'll admit it. My movie watching prowess, as amazing as it may be, does not include a great deal of blacksploitation films of the 70's. I did not realize how horrible a mistake that was until last night, I stumbled on Coffy.

I've had pretty awesome insomnia lately, so when I'm still awake at 1am, trying to write, and I find a movie about a stunningly beautiful woman who decides to kill every drug dealer near her, I stopped for a moment. When it became obvious that the director wanted to use any excuse to have the female leads accidentally have their bjoobs pop out?

Well, I was intrigued.

You come to me with the DVD of Wonder Boys, that's a guaranteed viewing.

You come to me with a 70's era movie about drugs and a liberal use of the word motherfucker, and I'm intrigued.

You come to me with a movie about a crazy woman with an afro, a shotgun, and her ability to lose her clothing...I'm making popcorn right then.

Now, I do have a tendency to enjoy movies that are outright terrible...BECAUSE they're terrible (see: The Warriors, Xanadu, and the best dude movie ever, The Tao of Steve), and this one is no exception. It's outright horrid, and yet great at the same time.

I say rent the bad boy, pop it in, and then sit back and wonder what the fuck my parents generation was thinking when they decided to wear a yellow jumpsuit with matching cape. Slight warning, there's a liberal amount of man camel toe in this film...just an FYI.

I'm going to go try to go to bed. I'm sure I'll end up staring at the ceiling for another five hours so here's hoping there's something as bad on tonight.

Insomnia blows.

F
Y
I.

Friday, April 25, 2008

Honestly...I spend too much time here.



I mean really....

Real post to come, with words and stuff.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Unearthing.

Today was interesting.

I read something today, that made me think of some of the old poetry floating in my hard-drive, some of which I have not read or thought about in five years.

I took six writing courses in college, and my poetry became the focal point for me nearly immediately. The majority of it was about childhood, relationships, old memories, and the like. Things that had been shaking about in my brain for years without any real way to be expressed suddenly had a way out.

The best part? I had an automatic audience (unlike this blog) in all my classes, as we work-shopped each others pieces. We also had a few regular readings in local bookstores and coffee shops (yes, yes, i know. Hipster Heaven.)

Anyway, I found out two things about my writing in short order. The first was that my heartfelt pieces, about my girlfriend at the time, or about my parents, or pretty much about anything slightly wistful was a crowd pleaser.

The second, was that as my writing style matured, I greatly preferred writing stuff that was more of the...well fuck it. Here.



Oh you JUST missed him!


Dear god, I know I really don’t pray all that much but if you can get me through this I would be really thankful. Maybe I’d even start going to church ag...

oh.
He’s not in.
No, no message. Thanks.



Ok, so it lacks something without being read out loud. Still, a few classmates and I soon realized that writing something that made the audience go "huh?" was way more fun than writing something that made the audience go "hmmm.." At one point, one of the guys in my class composed a poem on the back of his notebook AT a reading. The title? "Composed on the back of my notebook during this reading," or some such thing. It also stopped in mid sentence, as he ran out of room.

God those were fun.

Anyway, re-reading these is like going back in time and looking at how my mind processed information back then.

It's an odd feeling, as it's been quite awhile since I've written a poem.

Now to see if I can still do it.

I need to get off the YouTube.



How droll.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Um...



He's either insane, or has a really dry sense of humor.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Cant...Stop...Posting...



I just realized the first episode of the new season is on my dvr.

Oh hell yes.

I love *beeping* whatever the amount!

I know I exaggerate alot, and pretty much everything I say is the greatest thing I've ever seen, blah blah blah.

It's how I talk, fuck you.

Regardless? This really is the greatest YouTube video ever. I'm glad I finally remembered to post it.



The first time I watched this? I laughed so hard I could not breathe.

Rock,

X-51

BOSTON'S 10TH MAN CANNOT BE WRONG!



Is it wrong that this still gives me goosebumps?

Answer?

Fuck to the no.

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Somedays I miss poetry.

Usually when something like this pops up:



I was a poet all through college. Readings, open mics, etc. Life felt more hurried, more dramatic, and more immediate then, and a few printed words helped to encapsulate it well. It also made me popular with the chicks who thought sensitive douchebags were fun to hang out with.

Life lesson? There's always a double meaning.

Regardless, check out the video. It's a pretty remarkable message.

Rock.

X-51.

Friday, April 11, 2008

Running, climbing, movies, mascots, singing, soccer moms, not for tourists, Roller Derby, and the Religion of my IPOD set on shuffle.

Yes, yes. There’s been a purge.

Looking back on some past posts, with broken links and rambling accounts of various idiotic occasions, I realized that trying to type and post to a blog while at work is less than ideal for a person’s writing style.

So I’ll give this another go, and actually pay it the attention it deserves. I hope. In reality, I’ll probably post six times and then just fade out slowly like the last six times.

Let’s see, updates…updates…I just signed up for the Harpoon Five miler road race, which 5 years ago I might have stood a chance of being competitive, but now I’ll be lucky to finish in under 35:00. I’m going to give it my all though, unlike the 5K last year where I showed up to run with barely any training, kicked ass on the race itself, and then could barely walk for 3 days after. Un-savory.

Rock climbing should be kicking back in again soon as well, as the local rock gyms have been spamming me with the latest routes for the Quincy Quarries (as seen in the lovely Gone Baby Gone), and with discounts on gear and such. I haven’t been in so long I have no idea how much my hands have weakened, so the first time on rock should be a painful awakening. Also, I have absolutely no fucking clue where my gear is, including the $140 dollar shoes I bought at the end of the season. Son of a fuck.

What else, what else. Got a new gig, working north of the city now, but still in a sales environment. Seems like a fantastic spot to work, friendly peoples, etc. I tend to keep the really personal details off of here, as my internet paranoia still runs deep, so that’s about all you’ll hear on that subject. I will say that the walk to work at my last gig was fantastic, but that it’s kind of refreshing to jump in the car, crank some music, and then sing along totally unselfconsciously, at the top of your lungs, while passing soccer moms who laugh at you into their Dunkin Donuts as they navigate the highways to pick up various brood and meet brazillian wax appointments.

Ipod on shuffle is my new religion. Anything that takes you from Queens of the Stone Age, to Queen, to Neil Diamond, to Samples, to They Might Be Giants in one sitting? Genius.

NFT – where you might have come here from – still continues to be a fantastic side gig, and the editorial staff simply rocks. I worked on editing the NFT Boston 09 book, so anything in there that’s funny, I’d thank them. Anything in there that’s incorrect, blame me. I will stand by my assertion that Yada Yada CafĂ© was my workplace oasis, and while I’ve only been gone from that job 3 weeks, I miss it, and the family who ran it like fire. They put my review in their window! How much do they rock?

Going back a bit – Gone Baby Gone, or as I call it, the movie set in my neighborhood, at a bar I go to a lot, with a main character that shares my name, was a great flick. The Afflecks impressed me with their performance and direction respectively, but FUCK what a depressing god damn film. And this is coming from a Dennis Lehane fan. Knowing how the book ends does not prepare you for actually seeing it. It got a bit dusty I will say. Also, seeing a character get shot in my local bar, and then die on the roof of the building I go to for haircuts? Unsettling.

The only other bit of wisdom I’d share with you, my non-existing audience, would be how fucking obsessed I am with this: Boston Derby Dames. Seriously. I’m not being the little fun hipster douchebag who likes something that should by no means be liked. Ever since I watched Rollergirls, on A&E last year: Hot and Smart Chicks on Rollerskates, I’ve been interested in watching relatively hot, bad ass chicks, on rollerskates, kicking each others pierced and tattooed asses. NOTE: While their asses may be tattooed, I highly doubt they are pierced. Just saying.

The next bout is on April 12th, which means I’m missing that one due to being booked all day Saturday with important things like, boozing, eating, and boozing again. Come May 10th bitches, we’re ON. I applied to be a mascot for them if they expand to any other teams, even though my skating ability and my ability to breath underwater are about equal. I could be the lovable mascot who falls down a lot! Hell, I could just put a costume on of myself, with a whiskey bottle in hand. St. Stumbles!

That’s it mon ami. Consider yourselves updated. Keep checking the site for additional radars, blurbs, and random warblings from my end, and feel free to throw me an email. Also, I’m part of a political themed website, so my writings should start showing up there sooner than later as well, and when they do, I’ll share the details.

The typical love, monkeys, and now bears:


Bears. Serious Business.

x-51.