Showing posts from April, 2007

Guess the Mystery Ailment!

After nine years, this occupational hazard strikes.

Guess what it is and I'll flip off a latte-clutching soccer mom in your honor.

People with Placards

People with placards
All over this town
People with placards
Bring me down

Come buy the leather
Sofa that must go
This is the final week
For the twelfth week in a row

Every item 6 dollars
And splotched all with flowers
Every item 6 dollars
And it lasts 6 hours

Hire someone desperate
Forty-nine bucks a pop
To stand in a cow suit
On the corner block

Ousting the unborn
Out of the womb
I'll never do it
Do I have to look?

If I didn't think
Getting saved was required
Is one verse on a poster
Going to save me from fire?

People with placards
All over this town
People with placards
Bring me down

The Way It Goes

Sometimes I get ideas for posts and I just save them as drafts and forget. Today I was digging around here in the blog closet and found this darkly sparkly scrap, originally thought of back in November 2005 and languishing here until now. Enjoy.

God makes trent reznor in his dark angelic glory
trent experiences a life of woe enough so that he becomes an artist
trent toils for years, distilling anger and pride and self-loathing into this:

there is a game I play
try to make myself okay
try so hard to make the pieces all fit
smash it apart
just for the fuck of it

it works its way down to me
this distilled darkness allows me to go on another day
I say thanks, God. thanks, trent
I go on and have woe of my own
I post here
you read it
maybe you don't feel so bad

art will save us all.

It's Lovely

I've already been pimping this guy all over the place, but I have to do it officially: Aqueduct, is, in fact, good music. Written and sung entirely (and sometimes performed!) by this one man, David Terry, it's a collection of indie confections, sweet and sinister all at once.

What's it like? He claims the Beach Boys! as a big influence but I think I hear Beck and Cake, too. There's lots of Moog-y synth stuff. There are dark storylines of romantic intrigue woven throughout with syrupy, irresistible hooks (and one song based on The Princess Bride). It's often sad, jaded, and even violent, but little bundles of hilarity and hope are interspersed throughout (just like some gunslinger tales I know). His voice sounds like some 70's singer whom I can't place. You can listen to his complete latest record, Or Give Me Death, at the link above, but buy it if you can, because we should all support self-made musical innovation out of a bedroom in Oklahoma.

This loveline…

Who Makes America Go Round?

Here in Dallas, many people are from other places.

Make no mistake, I have no problem with people immigrating -- if I did, I wouldn't be here, I'd be on the slopes of Ireland or Scotland paying the UK's exorbitant 40% taxes, digging potatoes from the soil, and dancing jigs and reels without moving my arms. If there were no immigrants, I'd be out of a job, as many of my students' parents came here from Mexico. Furthermore, I don't believe for a moment that anyone is taking any job that any native-born American wants. But I digress...

Not that long ago, a protest called "Day Without An Immigrant" was staged in which immigrants stayed home one day from work to show people the value of immigrants working in our society, and that they provide vital services that the country can't run well without.

Well, I don't dispute that, but I think that the day-to-day life of upwardly mobile 30 somethings like me is run from hidden centers of power not by immi…

P - Bomb

Think that's my rapper name? Well, let me tell you a little story.

En route to Saturday School on Saturday, I became involved in the backwash from this. When two people are killed by a drunk driver, it really bungs up Central Expressway, as well it should, I suppose.

The ensuing traffic glut took THREE hours to get out of. Not only did I have to navigate the jam with my carpooling matey, but our battery also died in the middle of it. Thank God I live in Texas, where you can always count on a truck-drivin' bubba to come along momentarily and rescue you. And, bless him, one did and had the car jumped within about a minute.

But on we sat. And inched up. And sat. And inched up. And watched people drive the wrong way up the on ramp to get out of it. And watched people look at their watches time and again. And called our bosses to say we weren't going to be in. And sat. And it occurred to me that I had to go.

So I thought I'd try to wait. But on we sat. And inched up. And …