Random shit from Monday and Tuesday:
Listening to Girl Talk raises a lot of questions I've always had with music and its influence on culture. By mixing oldies with the songs of my own generation, I'm wondering if he feels the same way: that they're entirely different. The oldies present love and relationships in such a pure way with no sexual desire, at least not on the face level (obviously, there are exceptions). Music nowadays is incredibly sexually explicit and sets sex up as a commodity and women as pure sexual objects. Or maybe by playing them on top of each other, he's stressing that they're the same? I mean I'm sure even all The Beatles wanted was just a quick piece of ass, but sadly she was just seventeen. And nowadays the Kings of Leon sing about the exact same problem...Anyway, his music's pretty amazing.
This country is too fucking beautiful.
There's so much it can make you cry.
I think it's the cause of the laid-back lifestyle. No worries. It's just calming...everywhere you look is beauty. Calm.
From the mind of Brian Clevinger:
Really, Lex Luthor is the hero. Think about it. Superman is the invader, he's the anomaly. He's the thing that doesn't belong. And what's he do? He robs humanity of its drive. Why excel at anything when Superman is already, by definition, inhumanly better than you at EVERYTHING?
Lex Luthor is giving us back our dignity. And he does this all while he's labeled a villain for doing it. How sick is that? The people of his society are so invested in Superman's superiority that they fight to lock up the man who dares suggest they may actually have some worth. We should all aspire to be Lex Luthor.
(He's got a point there, you know)
I can't wait until break. Things will slow down and I can write again.
New Zealand is good about making me wait to see movies I want to see.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Free association free association free assocation nothin yet.
Fuck your war, cause I'm fat and in love
I wonder what will be carried into the future from my generation. More-so I wonder if it will be something that I liked. It's probably going to be the shit I hated when I was around to see it the first time. Unless it's Pokemon...But like - Pogs came back, and who could have hated Pogs the first time around?
What about music? Will rap become classics? Will we ever hear Coolio on the oldies stations? Sir Mixalot? Or will it be the rap with a message? The Sugar Hill Gang, Public Enemy? The Roots, Jurassic 5, Del the Funkee Homosapien?
Where did music come from, anyway? I hear none of Beethoven's Eroica in the songs on the radio today, but music has evolved from his time to ours. But a lot of popular composers met with minimal success in their own time. Hopefully the money machines that can't write a song for shit (Kiss Me Through the Phone? Seriously? Soulja Boy Tell 'em how much dick you suck. Hint: it is all the dicks) will be put to the wayside and the real musicians of our time will be passed on to future generations: Elliott Smith, TV on the Radio, Jeff Mangum. And yeah I'm pretentious as fuck to think I can name who the reaaaal musicians are, maaaan, but oh well.
Transform and roll out, bitches.
I was bored before class...
Fuck your war, cause I'm fat and in love
I wonder what will be carried into the future from my generation. More-so I wonder if it will be something that I liked. It's probably going to be the shit I hated when I was around to see it the first time. Unless it's Pokemon...But like - Pogs came back, and who could have hated Pogs the first time around?
What about music? Will rap become classics? Will we ever hear Coolio on the oldies stations? Sir Mixalot? Or will it be the rap with a message? The Sugar Hill Gang, Public Enemy? The Roots, Jurassic 5, Del the Funkee Homosapien?
Where did music come from, anyway? I hear none of Beethoven's Eroica in the songs on the radio today, but music has evolved from his time to ours. But a lot of popular composers met with minimal success in their own time. Hopefully the money machines that can't write a song for shit (Kiss Me Through the Phone? Seriously? Soulja Boy Tell 'em how much dick you suck. Hint: it is all the dicks) will be put to the wayside and the real musicians of our time will be passed on to future generations: Elliott Smith, TV on the Radio, Jeff Mangum. And yeah I'm pretentious as fuck to think I can name who the reaaaal musicians are, maaaan, but oh well.
Transform and roll out, bitches.
I was bored before class...
So, today.
Today was the Pasifika festival, where there were a bunch of different booths set up representing different Pacific islands and cultures and such. Janelle, JT, and I went together, but it kinda rained all day and there were huge throngs of people so we didn't spend too much time there. We went to Hell's Pizza and ate Mordor and Lust (they're both delicious). A window-wiper dude outside told me to "say that to [his] face" (I had said nothing, so I looked him in the eyes and repeated myself as best I could), then he told me to fuck off, so I went ahead and did that as well. That was fun.
Hung out in Mt. Albert for a while, then went to walk home at around 7:30. I found out just then that my bus no longer runs that late, soooo I decided to try and walk home. Turns out I'm not very good at this, and the 20 minute bus ride turned into an hour and a half walk through I-don't-know-where, but I did eventually get home.
ANYWAY, reason why this is cool, is that as I was walking, the cutest, chubbiest little puppy came running up to me and started tagging along. I checked his collar for an address and found a phone number, but when I dialed it a voice chimed in that said it had been disconnected. My heart immediately went out to the poor little fella; I thought he had been abandoned, making both he and me alone and far away from any place either of us could call home. We walked past a whole mess of other people and homes and shops, but Bobby the dog would always come running back to me. Animal magnetism, man.
Or as my host-dad Mike suggested, Bobby smelled terrible, and so do I, so he wanted to hang out with me. Thanks, Mike. (Ass.)
So yeah this little dog and I walked for an hour and a half all over Auckland with no leash until I eventually found my way home (after a panicked call to Janelle because it got really dark and I was in residential areas and I heard a lot of yelling and then I started to wonder "Hey I wonder if Auckland has a ghetto and if I'm currently in it?"). We gave Bobby feed and discovered that I had dialed the wrong number...oops...but we found his owner and got the little pup home. His owner seemed grateful since Bobby had actually been lost for a while, but he made it sound like this was a regular occurence, at which point we decided that Bobby's owner must be kind of a big dumb. Anyway, it made me really happy to have a fellow adventurer on my journey home, so thanks Bobby the dog.
And that was today. (originally written on saturday the 14th)
Today was the Pasifika festival, where there were a bunch of different booths set up representing different Pacific islands and cultures and such. Janelle, JT, and I went together, but it kinda rained all day and there were huge throngs of people so we didn't spend too much time there. We went to Hell's Pizza and ate Mordor and Lust (they're both delicious). A window-wiper dude outside told me to "say that to [his] face" (I had said nothing, so I looked him in the eyes and repeated myself as best I could), then he told me to fuck off, so I went ahead and did that as well. That was fun.
Hung out in Mt. Albert for a while, then went to walk home at around 7:30. I found out just then that my bus no longer runs that late, soooo I decided to try and walk home. Turns out I'm not very good at this, and the 20 minute bus ride turned into an hour and a half walk through I-don't-know-where, but I did eventually get home.
ANYWAY, reason why this is cool, is that as I was walking, the cutest, chubbiest little puppy came running up to me and started tagging along. I checked his collar for an address and found a phone number, but when I dialed it a voice chimed in that said it had been disconnected. My heart immediately went out to the poor little fella; I thought he had been abandoned, making both he and me alone and far away from any place either of us could call home. We walked past a whole mess of other people and homes and shops, but Bobby the dog would always come running back to me. Animal magnetism, man.
Or as my host-dad Mike suggested, Bobby smelled terrible, and so do I, so he wanted to hang out with me. Thanks, Mike. (Ass.)
So yeah this little dog and I walked for an hour and a half all over Auckland with no leash until I eventually found my way home (after a panicked call to Janelle because it got really dark and I was in residential areas and I heard a lot of yelling and then I started to wonder "Hey I wonder if Auckland has a ghetto and if I'm currently in it?"). We gave Bobby feed and discovered that I had dialed the wrong number...oops...but we found his owner and got the little pup home. His owner seemed grateful since Bobby had actually been lost for a while, but he made it sound like this was a regular occurence, at which point we decided that Bobby's owner must be kind of a big dumb. Anyway, it made me really happy to have a fellow adventurer on my journey home, so thanks Bobby the dog.
And that was today. (originally written on saturday the 14th)
Monday, March 9, 2009
I told people I'd update, so here:
One day in the early 40's, a mother of five living in London left her home for work. Her husband was at war, fighting to protect his family but too far away to do anything to help them directly. In this exact situation, however, there's nothing he could have done anyway. And luckily, no one was in the house when the bomb hit.
Many of the bombs that Germany dropped on London worked by being fuel-propelled until they were over London. Once there, they ran out of fuel and dropped from the sky onto the city below. The citizens of London feared not the buzzing sound of the incoming bomb, but much more-so the silence when the buzzing ceased.
On a day when she and her children were all away from the house, a V-1 cruise missile destroyed Mrs. Hawkins's home entirely. It was a direct hit. She returned to complete devestation; a lone mother now made homeless and left with five children to take care of. She knew of an abandoned house further down the street, which she then broke into and refused to leave.
It was in this house that my host-mother was born, becoming the youngest of six children.
How absolutely amazing to hear of somebody's life beginning under such extraordinary circumstances. And you'd never know, it just came up in conversation while she was on the phone with her brother, who still has nightmares of the buzzing sound of the "doodlebugs" (as they were nicknamed for some reason) dropping over their heads.
There, I updated. It has nothing to do with me, but it is something that I found incredibly interesting. I blame this on my dad, who is a history fanatic, and I guess some of that curiosity found its way into me.
I still like it here it is super. There.
One day in the early 40's, a mother of five living in London left her home for work. Her husband was at war, fighting to protect his family but too far away to do anything to help them directly. In this exact situation, however, there's nothing he could have done anyway. And luckily, no one was in the house when the bomb hit.
Many of the bombs that Germany dropped on London worked by being fuel-propelled until they were over London. Once there, they ran out of fuel and dropped from the sky onto the city below. The citizens of London feared not the buzzing sound of the incoming bomb, but much more-so the silence when the buzzing ceased.
On a day when she and her children were all away from the house, a V-1 cruise missile destroyed Mrs. Hawkins's home entirely. It was a direct hit. She returned to complete devestation; a lone mother now made homeless and left with five children to take care of. She knew of an abandoned house further down the street, which she then broke into and refused to leave.
It was in this house that my host-mother was born, becoming the youngest of six children.
How absolutely amazing to hear of somebody's life beginning under such extraordinary circumstances. And you'd never know, it just came up in conversation while she was on the phone with her brother, who still has nightmares of the buzzing sound of the "doodlebugs" (as they were nicknamed for some reason) dropping over their heads.
There, I updated. It has nothing to do with me, but it is something that I found incredibly interesting. I blame this on my dad, who is a history fanatic, and I guess some of that curiosity found its way into me.
I still like it here it is super. There.
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