Hi. Been a while.
So, tonight, I watched, relatively, the last 40 minutes of Story-Tellers with John Mayer. I like John Mayer, sorta.
Here's the problem. John Mayer is an above average singer/song writer. I mean he's pretty good, and he deserves a lot of credit for being talented. I could see a world where he wasn't as famous as he is, but he's extremely marketable. At least, unlike some famous musicians, he actually has the talent to be there. The issue is with his attitude.
He's not mean, and he doesn't punch babies. He just comes off as being particularly arrogant. He lauds himself, and sees himself as someone who is important. In many ways, this is narcissistic, and in some ways, it's sorta refreshing. While no one likes anyone who takes themselves too seriously, we often get sort of disheartened when someone, usually an artist type, doesn't take seriously what they do. Or they make it seem like they stumbled on it. Mayer really believes in the importance of what he's doing - which is good, though sometimes he does take himself too seriously.
What do you think?
-cjfer-
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Monday, March 2, 2009
Nonsense
Hmm. There really hasn't been anything up here for a while. Keeping the dream alive, here's something from my side. This is just a bunch of silliness that just hopped into my head. It pretty much makes no sense, but I like the name Retro Dog:
Retro dog is doing the hula across the universe while inferiority llama sings his blues, but they aren't his blues. He sings for a generation lost, in pain, looking for some star to hang its hope on. But the starry eyed Hipsters have taken the taste right out of his mouth, and there’s nothing but a husk of his hope. He sings for them, for the ones never had and never were, and he sings for that hope to return. He sings alone.
But retro dog, he don’t care. He’s rolling high and dry on the PCH down to Mexico, a world of troubles left behind him in flames. He could have taken her with him, but now there’s no time or place for her in his life. That’s all over, and as he vanishes into the electrified evening, he winks to her in his mind. His third eye says everything that she could ever want to know.
She doesn’t here it though, or see it. Her chakras are cloudy, her karma pure. She’s lived a life of lies and deceit that would make a lawyer brushle. He was the one good thing in her life, but the fire and the flames have broken them. What once was whole is now two pieces, two isotopes exploding in a Hiroshimatic ejaculation of broken dreams and desires.
And yet inferiority llama sings on. He’s doing his thing, and his thing is good. Some cry when they hear the llama’s song, when they hear of the hope he sings about. Not retro dog. That guy is on his way out. He’s gone so far west, he’s south. The devil’s domain. Downtown where the daisies grow. And she’s on his mind. But the llama sings on, for them, for the dog, for himself, but mostly for you.
And you don’t even know why.
Retro dog is doing the hula across the universe while inferiority llama sings his blues, but they aren't his blues. He sings for a generation lost, in pain, looking for some star to hang its hope on. But the starry eyed Hipsters have taken the taste right out of his mouth, and there’s nothing but a husk of his hope. He sings for them, for the ones never had and never were, and he sings for that hope to return. He sings alone.
But retro dog, he don’t care. He’s rolling high and dry on the PCH down to Mexico, a world of troubles left behind him in flames. He could have taken her with him, but now there’s no time or place for her in his life. That’s all over, and as he vanishes into the electrified evening, he winks to her in his mind. His third eye says everything that she could ever want to know.
She doesn’t here it though, or see it. Her chakras are cloudy, her karma pure. She’s lived a life of lies and deceit that would make a lawyer brushle. He was the one good thing in her life, but the fire and the flames have broken them. What once was whole is now two pieces, two isotopes exploding in a Hiroshimatic ejaculation of broken dreams and desires.
And yet inferiority llama sings on. He’s doing his thing, and his thing is good. Some cry when they hear the llama’s song, when they hear of the hope he sings about. Not retro dog. That guy is on his way out. He’s gone so far west, he’s south. The devil’s domain. Downtown where the daisies grow. And she’s on his mind. But the llama sings on, for them, for the dog, for himself, but mostly for you.
And you don’t even know why.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Night Flight
Back when I was a kid growing up in Brooklyn my parents exposed me to something that changed my life: cable tv. From an early age I watched Mtv and USA Network, while they (and I) were in their infancy. There were things I saw which I didn't understand. There are things that I saw that I remembered as odd memories. Thanks to youtube I've been able to revisit these.
One such gem is "Night Flight". It was a late night show, kind of like a proto "Liquid TV". It ran in the 80s, and was really an anything goes kind of show. Devo and Frank Zappa would get a lot of air time, as well as the Church of the Subgenius. Tom Waits would get interviewed, and Ultraman would get redubbed. It was right up my alley, and really explains a whole lot about me. To give you an example of what they would do, here's probably their most recognizable clip. Remember, this was in the 80s, where doing something like this was not only edgy, but high tech.
As I find more things like that, I'll post them. Hell, someone's gotta bring the postmodern back to this little blog, right?
One such gem is "Night Flight". It was a late night show, kind of like a proto "Liquid TV". It ran in the 80s, and was really an anything goes kind of show. Devo and Frank Zappa would get a lot of air time, as well as the Church of the Subgenius. Tom Waits would get interviewed, and Ultraman would get redubbed. It was right up my alley, and really explains a whole lot about me. To give you an example of what they would do, here's probably their most recognizable clip. Remember, this was in the 80s, where doing something like this was not only edgy, but high tech.
As I find more things like that, I'll post them. Hell, someone's gotta bring the postmodern back to this little blog, right?
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Monday, December 8, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Affect
It's a weird thing to be affected by things.
I feel like I'm someone who is greatly affected by everything and everyone. My failing sometimes is that I assume that other people are unaware or don't take the same things seriously that I do. Something infinitely meaningful for me can be a regretted moment for someone else. In reality, everyone is affected by things, I know this, but I don't have an outside perspective on it. This is where hurt feelings come from.
A perceived anything can be taken to mean anything. It's impossible to go a day and get every single reaction you want and everyone to respond promptly or at the right time. Still, I end up very sad for no reason a lot of the time.
-cjfer-
I feel like I'm someone who is greatly affected by everything and everyone. My failing sometimes is that I assume that other people are unaware or don't take the same things seriously that I do. Something infinitely meaningful for me can be a regretted moment for someone else. In reality, everyone is affected by things, I know this, but I don't have an outside perspective on it. This is where hurt feelings come from.
A perceived anything can be taken to mean anything. It's impossible to go a day and get every single reaction you want and everyone to respond promptly or at the right time. Still, I end up very sad for no reason a lot of the time.
-cjfer-
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