This has been a crazy week so far, and it is only Wednesday night/Thursday morning. Sitting here listening to a pretty decent indie-rock release by a band called Late Night Television. Some good, rocking songs in the vein of early Superchunk and stuff, with great song titles. Songs such as "My Life As a Bad Movie and an Even Worse Soundtrack," "Sometimes I Forget I Hate Myself" and "I Wish This Was Funny" kinda take me back to 1994, when I was all innocent and naive and only 21. Now, I am cynical and naive and ona collision course with 30. Hell, the fact that the album is entitled "A Personal Account of How I've failed at Everything" is reason enough to give it a spin.

I made an awesome, depressing mix cd yesterday with my free time. It is sad, but it also rocks out. Artists included on it are Interpol, Wilco, Hayden, Radiohead, +/-, Buffalo Tom, Wolf Colonel, The Postal Service, The Decemberists, Uncle Tupelo, Kill Creek, The Long Winters, John Vanderslice, Railroad Jerk, Elliott Smith, Rhett Miller, Pete Yorn, Idlewild, Six By Seven and U2. It run the gamut. Stuff that didn't fit on it will be included on the next mix cd, which I've started, and will contain Ben Folds, Ben Kweller, Pearl Jam, Josh Rouse + Kurt Wagner, and more TBA. If you want a copy of the one that's finished, email me and let me know. Maybe make me a mix, too.

Saw Pearl Jam tonight at the Colisseum. Fucking amazing!!! It was my third time seeing them, and by far the best. Matt Cameron is such a great drummer. His arrangements on the older songs totally blow away Dave Abruzzese's stick work on the tours for Ten and Vs. And the newer songs just keep getting better. They opened with "Long Road" and it was phenomenal...I've always been a big fan of their darker, more dirge-like material, and they played a nice selection of these tunes, including "I Am Mine" and "Thumbing My Way." Matt and I just had such a great time. They played a smattering of old songs as well, spanning their entire career thus far. One highlight was definitely during "Elderly Woman..." when Matt & I were swaying to the beat, holding each other and singing along. Few people on this earth I would rather see a Pearl Jam show with. He was so psyched, that it kicked up my excitement level even higher. I'm glad that I got the coolest brother in the world and you didn't.

I just find myself disappointed in the caliber of intelligence of the people in attendance. I mean, you kinda go into a Pearl Jam show knowing Eddie Vedder's (outspoken) political beliefs. I mean, it's fine and well to disagree with him, that's not the issue. But most people don't pay $40 or whatever to boo the message the performer is trying to convey. You would think that for 3 hours of an honest-to-God amazing rock show, you could shut your dumbass "I'm proud to be an American living in George Bush's eminent domain" mouth. I mean, Christ, I don't go to your mom's job and jump up and down on the bed, do I? Let the man speak his mind. At first, I thought that maybe these people were just booing the latex Gee Dubya mask Vedder strolled out in during the second encore. Turns out, these folks were booing Eddie for singing a song (Bush Leaguer) about the president being stupid (which he is -- I mean, there should be no debating that! Listen to the shit that comes out of his mouth when he talks!!) and a lousy businessman (also true). Vedder was a good sport, though, and encouraged open debate. I heard enough people chanting "George Bush suck!" to not get completely discouraged. I thought the kid with the mohawk running around with the G.W. mask had the right idea. Sometimes I find it hard to believe that we manage to all co-exist on the same planet, let alone the same country.

Of course, the after-show political discussion between Matt and I about how we can never talk about politics with anyone reminded me that I get too upset when I discuss politics, because it just all makes me so angry. I had to stop reading the good political publications because every little thing would just make me froth at the mouth. You might not know this about me, but I do believe in things other than music...it just upsets me too much that nobody likes to bring up politics in my presence for fear of awakening the sleeping berserker within me. But I do enjoy it when Matt and I get into a political discussion, because it is nice to hear intelligent things coming from someone else's mouth other than my own. But the show was still so incredible, regardless. They played a few of my favorite cover songs they've ever done -- "Crazy Mary," "Last Kiss" and "(Keep On) Rockin' In The Free World."

Can't wait for the shows at the Garden in August! Downside is that it reminded me of all the Pearl Jam vinyl and cds I no longer own because of the ex-girlfriend with no turntable who still has them all. I can kiss all that stuff goodbye. It's been two and a half years, and I don't even know if she is alive or dead. I probably don't care, either, except that if she dies, I want that stuff back. But hey, I still have the LP of John Fahey's "The Yellow Princess" that her dad gave me. I consider that hazard pay for having to spend time with him and his Deer Hunteresque Vietnam-induced dementia. But I seemed to have veered off-topic just a bit. Sorry 'bout that.

So how about me being the Consummate [sic] Hipster? How did they know I worship DeLillo as a literary deity? That wasn't even a question. Weird thing is, I have never worn a leather jacket. But I do love my coffee. Just try to take it away from me. I dare ya.... Didn't think so. I was gonna apologize for not updating this enough... but whenever I do, it's this huge freaking monstrosity of a post. Speaking of "freaking" (as an adjective, not as a verb to describe a fun activity), Finnamore suggested last week that I start a "Freakin' Jar" because I say "freakin" to freakin much. I don't know what the fuck he's freakin' talking about. No, really. I don't freakin' get it.

You are the Consummate Hipster. Newbies bow to
you, everyone else just stares, as you swagger
down the street with "Little Green
Bag" stuck in your head.


What Kind of Hipster Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Yeah, so I'm sick again, dagnabbit! And there is no Triple C at work tonight, so even if I had sick time, I couldn't call in tonight. Nothing like 12 hours of work when you can't see straight. I had the craziest NyQuil-induced dream last night/ this morning...

I had written this poem to submit it to some literary journal, and it turns out that David Lynch wanted to use it in his new movie. And he actually shot the scene with me in it. I think the poem was being read while my character got choked on a rainy street at night. I saw the rough cut of the film, and I was still in it... and I really wanted to dub it from Digibeta onto VHS (my job seeping into my dreams a little?), but the guy who was in charge of the tape wouldn't let me, because that's his job. I was pleading with him like "But this isn't the final cut. I know he's going to cut my scene and I need to have this!" He was just like "you'll get the DVD" as he pried the digibeta from my desperate hands.

It was really funny to me, because the poem was supposed to have a nautical theme. I have no idea what it was about, but I imagine it was kind of like "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," but more relatable to modern times, and to Lynch. Therefore, it had to be pretty fucked up.

That's pretty much all I remember, except for like there being a college campus, a girl I wanted to get with and an old high school friend in a bar. I'd say maybe it was too hot for blogger, but knowing my dreams, it wasn't.

So, it is just shy of 6am, as I sit here listening to the Buffalo Tom "Besides" cd. The final track, their stellar, howling cover of "All Tomorrow's Parties" from the Velvet Underground tribute cd. Yesterday morning, sitting in this chair, I was listening to the "Crossing Jordan" soundtrack cd, which features Joe Henry's cover of "Pale Blue Eyes." Talk about synchronicity. I'd been in a total Buffalo Tom mood, but for some reason, I do not own Let Me Come Over. But I have "Taillights Fade" on an old mixtape, and that song just kills me. I've been kinda depressed for cryptic reasons. If my mood was a Blüe Oyster Cult record, it would be called Angst of Unknown Origin.

On the one hand, I'm happy because I got to see Ben Kweller tonight, and hung out with people I haven't seen ina long time, and bumped into people there I hadn't seen in a while. So that was great. Dinner at the Zen Palate was great. Hugs at the tail end of kickball were great. Watching "Dazed & Confused" with Matt when we got home was totally kick-ass. But why am I so down? Maybe I should just be vapid and listen to that happy, crappy mainstream pap, and stop listening to anything moody, edgy or intellgent. I dunno. I'll try posting later on, when I'm more clear-headed. I must sleep now.

So, for a week or so, I've been meaning to write some lame stuff that I think is interesting here, but I've been too busy wasting my free time on Friendster. And guess what... I still need to balance my checkbook! The artist formerly known as the "Hot Russian Woman At Work" has been discovered to not be Russian at all! It turns out that Barbara is from Italy, but her family was only there for two generations, and are actually gypsies (she used the word herself, instead of the more politically correct "Roma," prompting me to further believe that being PC is bullshit. I've been known to be a cheap Jew in my time. Although I still think it is horrible to call an Inuit an Eskimo, because of the meaning of the word, which I cannot remember right now, but which I think has something to do with being an eater of blubber). Related to that, a new acquaintance of mine told me that she jokes that she is a Spike -- because, like Juan Epstein, she is a Puerto Rican Jew. That had me in stitches. Okay. It's 9:45am. Time for bed. I guess I kind of hope I get that 8am-4pm Monday through Friday job that is open. I've got a better shot at getting that than I do of getting the 10am-10pm caching position that isn't officially open yet, although I did start caching over at MTV2 last night. I had to cache the VJ segments for the Top 20 Countdown, hosted by some chach named Jesse Blaze who was wearing a PVC shirt. When I was cueing the tape to record to the computer, I made him look like he was touching himself and rubbing. I think I was enjoyin it wayyy too much. I just really wanted to make a slingshot out of his shirt and have him fly into a wall face first. It made me think of Steve Buscemi's character Seymour in "Ghost World" when Enid turns on the radio in his car, and he reacts to it as this totally obnoxious, in-your-face, hostile bullshit. I felt much like that. Maybe I'm just an old man. I don't know. I've been listening to the two depressing mix cds my brother made a couple days ago. Right now, is the acoustic version of "Driveway To Driveway" by Superchunk. And the names were all we knew. And the names were all erased. This song, even though I had but one night of drunken makeout sessions in my life, it still touches me in the saddest way. I just want to write a song that makes me feel as much as that song.