Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Lone Drinker V

Editor's note: This is the fifth installment of the lone drinker. The previous four installments can be found here: I, II, III, IV. As always this is entirely unedited:

8:50: Tonights lone drinker is being brought to you by a magnum of First Run Shiraz with a bottle of Svedka Vodka as the backup. First Run: Making costomers wish we provided samples since 2005. Svedka Vodka: Because consuming rubbing alcohol is illegal since 1973.

8:58: Tonight I will be viewing two straight hours of MTV. The line up includes a half hour of the Hills, an hour of The Real World and a half hour of Pageant Place (I've never heard of this show). I wish I could keep a running tally of which substance is killing brain cells faster, alcohol or MTV.

9:08: Humanity has yet to devise a system that can properly estimate the amount of brain cells I'm losing watching this idoicy. It's gotta be in the gogleoplex range. On another note, two ideas I might have pursued if I had the time, money and wherewithall to dress up for Halloween: One, A Micheal Vick jersey with a stuffed animal dog hanging from my shoulder pads. Two, a suite with cardboard bathroom stall dividers constantly tapping my foot. (second glass)

9:19: "Yo Brody, this is Spence, hit me up bro," is said by a white man without a touch of irony.

9:28: The shows over, not much to report, Common's getting a ton of time on MTV's in show commercials though. Selling out is a way overhyped concept, but I'll be interested to hear Common's next record. Onto the Real World Sydney, haven't seen this show but I have Great Expectations.

9:36: Better idea for Real World Sydney: An Islamic Fundamentalist, an Evangelical Christian, an Orthodox Jew, a Transexual, a militant Athiest, a butch lesbian, and move the show to sub-Saharan Africa.

9:40: One of my favorite aspects of reality television just reared its beautiful head. One of the chicks just mediated a debate in defense of not only her friend but "all women." There is nothing more precious than the self-importance of virtually unknown reality television stars. (glass 4)

9:44: "I've always been told never feel, or care, more than anybody else than about yourself, and I can't do that." A character in the Real World just said that!?!?

9:58: Something happened while I was watching the dog. One of the Real World chicks invariably overreacted to an action that was invariably douchebaggy by one of the guys. On another note, my friends and I have this running joke that should definitely be an SNL skit.

10:03: Dumb Real World chick: "The last thing I would expect to hear from one of our bosses mouths is that we're going on a vacation." Really? They go on one every fucking season, this is a surprise? Have you seen the fucking show? On another note, my friends and I have a running joke that should definitely be an SNL skit. This style of Iphone commercials is absolutely ridiculous. Do they mean to claim that central command's instrumentation is inferior to the I-phone? So what we proposed is a series of commercials that would go something like this: "We had departed New York on our way to Dallas when our engine failed, fortunately I had my Iphone with me and was able to affix it to the cargo space. The Iphone recognized the instability and corrected it allowing for a safe landing." Or, "I was in the Congo and was told I had contracted a rare venereal disease, as I was sitting there scratching my testicles I turned on my Iphone and was able to obtain the vaccine via an obscure aboriginal tribe." What do you think Mr. Jobs? (glass 6)

10:26: The Real World's cookie cutter southerner, "females don't fight with females, that's not how things work." This officially confirms my suspicion that the south is a different country than the rest of the United States.

10:32: Not entirely sure whats going on in the show, Pageant Place, but I do think all these morons are driving up rent in New York and it's starting to piss me off.

10:48: of the chicks was saying that she was able to overcome her addiction as a result of the friendship she had established with the other broad. I honestly don't believe that anyone as dumb as either of these chicks can or could have been adicted to anything. It takes some level of intelligence to be addicted to

11:28: The Lone Drinker was distracted by company; one last Iphone idea: The world had suffered Nuclear Winter; fortunately my Iphone was able to locate a bomb shelter and inform me as to the superior way to repopulate humanity.

Friday, October 26, 2007

The Beginning of Poverty

I'm reading The End of Faith by Sam Harris. The book is essentially an argument for the abolishment of the three main religions. It's excellent and I'll review it in full when done but wanted to mention two quick points before bidding adieu for the weekend.

First, since I started reading I'm 0 and 4 in sports gambling. This is a stunning turn of events and I believe there may be larger "cosmic" factors at play here. If this trend continues I may be the first person driven back to the Church by this book.

Second, this book has made me come to believe that every Muslim I encounter secretly wants to kill me. If reading books were a more socially acceptable activity in the United States, Harris' arguments could very well have created serious public unrest.

While I write that half tongue in cheek, I invite you to join me in reading this book, I'd be interested to hear other opinions. His writing is very persuasive but also very provocative and potentially dangerous (although he would argue to not engage in the discussion is even more dangerous).

Merry weekend to all and to all a good night.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

The Bands Played On Part II

Before we get to the the other two bands a couple random thoughts:

Two nights ago I was watching a show on the history of tobacco on the History Channel (oh the irony). At one point they were discussing all of the endorphins that nicotine release in the brain upon consumption of tobacco. There was a graphic that showed all of the nicolicious goodness that passes through the brain during the drug's travels. It was the strongest endorsement for tobacco I've ever seen. I actually felt like I was depriving myself by not smoking.

I've actually just returned from a cigarette. That's how good the segment was.

The other point I want to mention occurred to me while I was watching the Seinfeld where Jerry passes on a threesome claiming he's not a "threesome guy". After watching Curb Your Enthusiasm I'm convinced that bit of humor was pure Larry David. Jerry is definitely a threesome guy and does not have the type of neurosis that would even allow for such a thought. I have absolutely no way to prove this theory but I think it makes sense.

On to the show.

The first note I wrote about the second band was "AP Biology A students"...apparently I hadn't realized that their name is Tacks, the boy disaster - cause I think I might have had a thought or two about that (current thought: if your a band and you have a comma in your name, you might want to shore up your bartending abilities). My next note was about the mustache that one of the members sported which was neither kitsch nor ironic, it would probably best be described as a Chris Hansen stache. Regarding their music, it was both powerful and disorganized, I saw glimpses of real talent but not enough cohesion as a unit to warrant much more explanation (see for yourself at their myspace page).

The final performer was Chase Pagan, who was honestly very good. The only complaint I have was that he was a bit flip during his performance. I normally appreciate acts that don't take themselves too seriously but I felt like it did a disservice to his talents. He does have quite a bit of talent and with a bit of refinement to his stage presence he has a serious future.

The Living Room as a venue was unusual but agreeable. The front room is standard LES bar fare but it leads to a curtain covered back room where the performances took place. The back room has a service bar and about 20 tables which seat probably 60 or so people in sum. Its a cool space, one in which a drunk might end up talking about Bikram Yoga with the bartender despite a complete lack of understanding of Bikram Yoga, perhaps.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

The Bands Played On Part I

I've seen a pair of shows over the last couple weeks. The National at the Music Hall of Williamsburg (with Elvis Perkins opening) and a series of bands at a Paste Magazine show at the Living Room in the Lower East Side. For the National show I didn't take notes and got overwhelmingly drunk while for the Living Room show I did take notes and got overwhelmingly drunk. What follows is a couple thoughts on each show.

Apparently the Music Hall of Williamsburg is a new venue or at least under new ownership because it used to be called Galapagos. Very cool place, a bit expensive (like $5-7 a beer (remember this is Williamsburg, things should at least try to be cheaper)) but really a knockdown venue. Elvis Perkins put on an excellent set that did well to calm the clamouring for the National. He plays a folky Dylan-esque kind of music crossed with something of an Arcade Fire type sound. Also upon a bit of research I learned he is the son of photographer Berry Berenson, who was on one of the planes that crashed into the World Trade Center, and actor Anthony Perkins, who played Norman Bates in Psycho (and also has a sordid tale surrounding his death). This has (understandably) led to some melancholy tunes but there didn't seem to be any insincerity in his performance and my research seems to confirm his earnestness.

The National then came on and killed. I honestly adore their most recent record and couldn't recommend it more. The Onion review of it is perfect. The National is like a good steak dinner and that night the Music Hall of Williamsburg was Peter Lugar's. Seriously, buy The Boxer, listen to it 5 times, rinse and repeat, if you don't love it we can fistfight. I don't really remember too many specific details beyond their awsomeness cause I was drunk.

A British group called Air Traffic opened up the Living Room show. The first note I took on them was Naomi Campbell (sp?). This was due to the guitarists hair. It looked like Vidal Sassoon had just finished his masterpiece on the kids head. I don't understand how this works with bands. The first three guys are sitting around with their barbershop cuts and all of a sudden the fourth sashays in with his supermodel salon cut and he's allowed to remain in the band? I think more bands need to be held accountable for this lapse in judgement.

Anyway, they were okay, a little like Coldplay crossed with Ben Folds.

Tomorrow*, the other two bands and some thoughts on Living Room.

*Tomorrow meaning any day that might at some point be rightfully called "tomorrow".

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Portrait of the Artist as a Young Stripper

I'm sorry I haven't been posting more frequently. Now that I've moved to Brooklyn I've devoted most of my time to the pursuit of my career as an MC. My name is Cervantes and my band is the Extraditables. We play post-funk hop, it's really starting to take off. There's a picture of my group and I sitting at a bar with sippy cups instead of beer mugs in front of us. That's our publicity photo. I'll be posting it in the near future. The rest of my time is spent with my dog, Pavlov. I love him and indulge most of his food requests.

I have an idea for a painting. Unfortunately even as a child I could barely fingerpaint so instead of attempting to paint my idea I'll describe it for any budding artists who happen upon this post and desire to attain artistic immortality. The idea is relatively simple but its implications on the art world would likely be tantamount to what Da Vinci did with the Mona Lisa. Prepare to have your mind blown:

A first person depiction of what life appears like from the eyes of a man getting a lap dance in a strip club.

This idea is brilliant and possibly revolutionary for three reasons.

First: it's provocative. Not only do you have a woman's naked body but you have all the other visual delights that your typical strip club offers. Including, but not limited to, sleazy old men gawking at (possibly) 18 year old women, clear heels, a neon Stroh's sign, a greasy dj and a world of other possibilities

Second: I would name the painting Don't Touch. As such it would mimic the reality of the art gallery experience.

Third: it appeals to pseudo-intellectuals and dirtbags equally.

If you or somebody you know would be interested in pursuing this endeavor please contact me at 555-4327.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Standing next to a Hasidic Jew...

under the JMZ elevated subway in Brooklyn. After several minutes of conversation, we look out at a downpour of biblical proportions:
Yfbfb - So you think Noah will save us
HJ - One of us, probably

Check out this Hitchen's article from Vanity Fair. If you haven't had a teary-eyed moment by the end see a therapist.

I'll be back in the next day or two, sorry, bloggers block.