Stupid Fuck
To be on tour while at home or the inverse, most at ease on the road that is something to aspire to for anyone.
Poor Comma Usage
Despite the alarming number of tools on twitter, celebrity impersonators (all of you), there must be one who uses the social network itself as a tool; part-time douchebag Bill Simmons succeeds in this endeavor by quoting himself in recent NBA articles/mailbags.
Putridity
The chemical factories’ stench had disappeared from the morning air; or should I say that my sense of smell was last used effectively in late May of the Roman Calendar year 2008? Huelva had its moments of pure, unadulterated bliss; the rolling of an ‘n’ joint; as in, I had smoked the hypothetical infinite variable of a power series of 1.
Capoing the 8th fret
Complete selfishness has resulted in little more than a life of lonely doubts; the taker finds the giver ever willing. We are the fuckers, chanted in slightly detuned unison, echoes off and passes through the paper thin walls. Just waves now, far far away from the port, of pure nothingness running through everything. This is a dream? Get me back to Fort Lauterdale related stories of German holidays.
2009/06/02
video game
I used to think that Guitar Hero and it's ilk were a horrifying development for anyone with pop culture nostalgia and a hit of fanboy desire lingering somewhere near the synaptic surface. Why, when one could practice playing guitar for some specific period of time (in the case of guitar hero) or hang out with your friends and play covers ("rock band") or take it to the next level and become a single band cover band (yuck, buttfucking crusty hetero hipsters...)? Now that pitchfork tells me that; 1) I'm a hypocrite for decrying hipsterdom's heinous anus expansion (POPPERS). 2) What if a shitload of people buy this stuff because it's cheaper than buying and maintaining real equipment? 3) It does pretty much all the work for you and rewards specialization/dedication. 4) It has a social element (gamers unite online and lord knows where else) 5) The Beatles got their own version, signed off by Paul Mccartney, Ringo Starr, Yoko (Plastic) Ono Lennon and Olivia Newton-John, I mean, Harrison.
Berlin offers a kind of cultural nourishment that my aching bones have been desiring since I set foot in Southern Spain's Southwestern nook that tourists the world over call "Andalucía" (often with the accent falling on the 'u' (Pixies Debaser) I found the DDR museum last night at 3:30 am strolling around unable to locate the proper way to arrive back home; no keys, no cash, just a strange bus ticket that somehow is acceptable to the driver no matter what. Sometimes the locals themselves omit the 'cía' and th-ay, "Omo Andalú!" (Somos Andaluz) (We are andalusian.) Speaking of bones, the milk in Spain tasted a little funny; it actually freaked me out. Then one day fresh milk randomly appeared in a bourgeois illusion fancy market; except they wilfully left out 'free' sample containers in a non-refrigerated area. German milk is delicious; I didn't know they had an A&P here too. So, maybe you think I'm talking about supermarkets too much, so then how can I really be absorbing culture? Well, I really just got here, and am experiencing a serious cerebral shock from all the various stimuli; people don't stare at me now on the street as if I am in the wrong place. "ESO QUÉ ES?"; with a slight crescendoing inflection on the final syllable.
Meal Time.
Berlin offers a kind of cultural nourishment that my aching bones have been desiring since I set foot in Southern Spain's Southwestern nook that tourists the world over call "Andalucía" (often with the accent falling on the 'u' (Pixies Debaser) I found the DDR museum last night at 3:30 am strolling around unable to locate the proper way to arrive back home; no keys, no cash, just a strange bus ticket that somehow is acceptable to the driver no matter what. Sometimes the locals themselves omit the 'cía' and th-ay, "Omo Andalú!" (Somos Andaluz) (We are andalusian.) Speaking of bones, the milk in Spain tasted a little funny; it actually freaked me out. Then one day fresh milk randomly appeared in a bourgeois illusion fancy market; except they wilfully left out 'free' sample containers in a non-refrigerated area. German milk is delicious; I didn't know they had an A&P here too. So, maybe you think I'm talking about supermarkets too much, so then how can I really be absorbing culture? Well, I really just got here, and am experiencing a serious cerebral shock from all the various stimuli; people don't stare at me now on the street as if I am in the wrong place. "ESO QUÉ ES?"; with a slight crescendoing inflection on the final syllable.
Meal Time.
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