Jin Jons are creatures that originate from a planet far outside our galaxy, and their planet is dying! Jin Jons have made it as far as Earth, and need happy homes to go to – Earth is their new home, and final destination.
These happy ones can be found at Wootini in Carrboro, NC! Stay tuned for more as they arrive, as arranged by Sarah Carrier aka Sin Ltd. aka Atom Lattice (who designed these patterns, invented all this Jin Jon madness, and can be contacted about having your own Jin Jon!!).
I consistently go to the NY Times first before other outlets for my news. In general, I would say that some of their writing is of a very high quality, and this election year, when so much is at stake, I find that they present some essential perspectives on the issues. But what is this all about?!? Seriously, except for Fox News garbage which is invariably crap, I have not read anything so poorly presented, so poorly written, and so irresponsible. And just silly. It would appear that they sent someone who had never been south of the Mason Dixon line to find the most ignorant, cliched white “Southern” characters that they could find, and then say, “Hey, the South is just as backwards as you always thought!” Hey, just go to a Walmart parking lot in Alabama! The story writes itself, right? The premise is already there — we know that Southerners (meaning white people who live in the South) are all a bunch of ignorant rednecks, right? So let’s talk to…I dunno, about 4 people, most of whom are in their ’70s (jeez, come on), and ask them about Barack Obama and the issue of race in this election.
Let’s just clear up a few things, since the NYT is making some very irresponsible generalizations (about the South)…and this should be pretty obvious, especially since, for example, my state of North Carolina is actually in contention this year — we are all not a bunch of racists, and not all racists are Southern. Period. Which is certainly not to dismiss the ridiculous comments that some of these people made to the reporter — they are disgusting and obviously racist, or to ignore the fact that incidents stemming from racial tension are obviously still taking place. But what is the premise of this “investigation?” And how, methodologically, are you going to carry out this investigation? Are we trying to analyze what appears to be a trend, while taking into account the variations and subtleties? If so, try to actually consider basic sampling and statistical techniques, and don’t be so lazy in presenting this as valid journalism.
Ah, this does remind me of the ”Mind of the South” expose from Newsweek…which appeared to be directed at a potential audience of very shocked non-Southerners, who were very surprised to hear about how backward and ignorant those people are! Still! And if you get in a car and drive around southern Georgia, there are a whole bunch of crazy white rednecks everywhere! And that means that every place in the South is that way! Again, it’s not to say that there aren’t racists in the South, but it’s just too easy to pretend like ignorance is Southern, that racism is Southern, and that’s the end of it. If we really want to CHANGE things, how can we keep making these generalizations? Anyway, the Washington Post is looking like a new contender for my affections…
I have really, really been enjoying Goldstitch’s new mix for “A Brooklyn Life” ABL:Radio podcast which you can find here, and not only is the selection and pace and everything really fantastic (I would say that Rob and Zoopsie are also my favorites as far as putting together excellent relaxed but funky mixes…), but Goldstitch has also reacquainted me with what has to be one of my favorite songs: “Goodbye Horses” by Q. Lazzarus. And she (or whoever did the page) has 1552 friends on MySpace? A lot of people like this song, eh? And it has been discussed before, etc., etc. (seriously, is there anything left to write blog entries about?)
This song and its story are pretty interesting, and there is a short biography available, put together by some German fans. I am sure that I am not the only one that first heard the song by watching “Silence of the Lambs,” although this may not be what the writer had in mind for the song (for it to always be associated with that infamous scene). But Demme and crew do a really great job integrating music into the film. But more than anything that happens in the movie, what stuck with me was the song, I just said to myself, I have to know what it is! Because it’s not so much what is happening, which is obviously disturbing, but it is the song that makes it so unforgettable. And it fits so well, even though it is actually quite danceable, it is also so dark and melancholy, and the lyrics are mysterious.
And what I didn’t realize is that the singer is a woman, and all along I thought it was a man, which makes the selection of the song for that scene all that more meaningful and symbolic, particularly with the ideas of transformation, (extreme) sensory experiences, and fantasy. The song therefore has to be a theme song for the killer in the film. The writer of the song, William Garvey, writes that “the song is about transcendence over those who see the world as only earthy and finite. The horses represent the five senses from Hindu philosophy (The Bhagavad Gita) and the ability to lift one’s perception above these physical limitations and to see beyond this limited Earthly perspective.” I would say that this is the kind of freedom that the serial killer in the film wants to achieve and experience, but he is trapped in his own mind and physical form.
…and while on the subject of Silence of the Lambs, this is kind of random — there is this one moment that actually creeps me out more than anything else, and it was not intentional, I’m sure — the moment when Jodie Foster’s character goes into Crawford’s office the first time and the camera follows her into the room, and then we see her turn around…I just don’t know what it is about it, and I am sure that it was just two shots from different times put together, but she looks so *weird* at that moment. She all of a sudden has lost the color in her lips, and she looks really pale but also sweaty, and her eyes look somewhat elongated and kind of alien-like. And she has this really sad look on her face. And when the camera cuts back to her, all of a sudden she looks like Jodie Foster again. Okay, so that is probably just me, but I have tried to not notice it, and I do every single time I watch it. She doesn’t even look like the same person.
He told me, I see you rise
But, it always falls.
I see them come,
I see them go
He said, All things pass into the night
And I said, Oh no sir I must say you’re wrong
I must disagree Oh no sir I must say you’re wrong.
Won’t you listen to me
You told me, I’ve seen it all before
I’ve been there,
I’ve seen my hopes and dreams A lying on the ground
I’ve seen the sky, just begin to fall
He said, All things pass into the night
And I said, Oh no sir I must say you’re wrong
And I must disagree,
Oh no sir, I must say you’re wrong
Won’t you listen to meChorus
Good-bye horses I’m flying over you
For quite a while, our university email inboxes were inundated with a remarkable amount of spam. Truly remarkable — almost a hundred spam emails a week at times. I personally really enjoyed those emails, because not only could the textual content be incredibly clever and funny, but almost Dadaist. The quality of the spam I am receiving now is really quite sorry, and I am honestly a little bit sad that our IT department was able to stem the tide of these emails. However I did compile some of my favorites. They read particularly well when presented as prose. I hope that you enjoy…
Here’s a little sample:
Do it, daddy-o, do it. Ive got the gilt. He blinked and I worse than that- Universitato had sent an expedition to a reported archeological site dressed in white, ministered to him. I dropped into the nearest chair silencing the music with a swipe of his hand. Dropping into his chair It was quite a long walk and I was getting tired again. When all this terminated the test when we saw what was happening. He nodded over his coffee. Youre beginning to make sense. A pop Completely aware, thank you. Absolute silence on that topic, yes, gracing the summit. I swung the sword so no one came too close,
Howard asked if Kimberly’s boyfriend was there too. Bubba promised to provide. Howard interrupted and said he heard about that. Howard said it turns out that Robin forgot her check and didn’t give him anything yet so nothing was stolen. He said he realizes what a genius John Lennon was and he wishes that he had been able to meet him. Biggest Asshole Of The Weekend Discussions. He said he still watches old video tapes when he watches porn to get off. He should have given him some cash instead. Howard said they do have fantasies about that and the guys from the show may not be invited. Howard said that they had some great chemistry and she was probably feeling some chemistry there and would dump her husband. Why not a replay of a recent show. He said he really likes Sal but he was sitting alone with Beth when he came over and started bothering him.
gnaw rise, tiff nay gull, yawp nest ply ally
vanity leaf Dane row friz fit
tend hid clap yea
view im- Emmy
beam mine pipe spur bike Urdu
pour curd
Nebo piercog
bunt iffy
doge joy
pact hard just yowl tang fly grew foil mass
sink oily gaby almsbee
job nag kart yark rung mossread
flop sty vial
bar meltzeta
flat ishike rate feet
holm mug hold lime cant
smug out bob oft junk rear yarn gaze cosy
has amen damp eke gag
hind Adam holt luck
meg its pump mora zoom
two knot page blue popup poor
lay foe love mews bi- blur pan blab wolf
of us hi crap
wile were fish nose tap tap
bade box, lave vocal gird, gold de- jut whipup
pool popup joy barn hunt friz
back mega nick bail
cane mete ache
dung itch whip cant gift rig
pose ship
fit bill-o-
nun loot
copy sore
air he- fief swim warp fine snooty bed tint
coat zoom week rapttak
tee kern doss zal raid bedpile
hale emu dopout
tiff lynxvisa
stew faceyour Whit cite
rent kali hold rag awash
lama don rose dull owl why time line pod
lieu span dusk foul turn
beck you clip spat
back darn par fret loco
poem she- hew sod snooty lad
down grig or sack bean oil heal lawn desk
sand mix pace rip
cine bed banana deem lust haft
suck rile, maid top wet, crop axes fine silo
chaw lend . sofa mole shot
bet ? thro yawn
arch rain rag
atop zday bold lay rock dew
yoot pump
pip mulllest
kook yak
web rib
sway tit ford lest pleb olid rump beg should be
mote lode abbe rentquag
blew pile con- O` rock buffyare
pawn seed Jute
drop slapdrib
exit lumpyknap slew tote
bine mast pule agog keg
open limp phut name fuel kook bag bib bowl
wilt dun rend went nief
ewe iris dusk gawk
weak sold gild crag clip
raft zona aqua vast gain sham
aura food yelp tea Fin com- lent bard mute
Jute velt cope I`m
hulk pore spit Bull blob sup
I hurled myself at him and grabbed him by the throat. Lack of the booze taste is lack of virility and they cannotsurvive. The party had quietened down considerably. Subnormal freaks, or misguided in their early youth. There werea dozen hands to help him rise. As for her littlebag, might he not carry that? I regard it as my duty and as the duty of all of you, to stopthis man, in his own interests. As I watched, the back wall of the house crashed inwards and theroof subsided a foot. Then suddenly theassembly burst into a roar of delighted applause. Little bright specks danced beforemy eyes when I closed them. I noticed the youngman from the DAILY HERALD taking shorthand notes. Bung Thomas rose unsteadily to his feet and rolled towards Temple. I felt like some great tragedian walkingon before a hushed and crowded house. I remember I locked the front door and put the key under the mat. He dodged away and stood by Slatter and I called out to them. She could not help laughing herself sometimes. Did you square the fireman to squirt my roof! There was a general movement of uneasiness. Just when I realized mynecessity, she came back. Copyright laws are changing all over the world. I remember I locked the front door and put the key under the mat. Bung Thomas rose unsteadily to his feet and rolled towards Temple.
Look for the signs, the symbols.
The Seafarer, the Exeter Book, 10th century
I sing my own true story, tell my travels,
How I have often suffered times of hardship
In days of toil, and have experienced
Bitter anxiety, my troubled home
On many a ship has been the heaving waves,
Where grim night-watch has often been my lot
At the ship’s prow as it beat past the cliffs.
Oppressed by cold my feet were bound by frost
In icy bonds, while worries simmered hot
About my heart, and hunger from within
Tore the sea-weary spirit. He knows not,
Who lives most easily on land, how I
Have spent my winter on the ice-cold sea,
Wretched and anxious, in the paths of exile,
Lacking dear friends, hung around by icicles,
Where hail flew past in showers. There heard I nothing
But the resounding sea, the ice-cold waves.
Sometimes I made the song of the wild swan
My pleasure, or the gannet’s call, the cries
Of curlews for the missing mirth of men,
The singing gull instead of mead in hall.
Storms beat the rocky cliffs, and icy-winged
The tern replied, the horn-beaked eagle shrieked.
No patron had I there who might have soothed
My desolate spirit. He can little know
Who, proud and flushed with wine, has spent his time
With all the joys of life among the cities,
Safe from such fearful venturings, how I
Have often suffered weary on the seas.
Night shadows darkened, snow came from the north,
Frost bound the earth and hail fell on the ground,
Coldest of corns. And yet the heart’s desires
Incite me now that I myself should go
On towering seas, among the salt waves’ play;
And constantly the heartfelt wishes urge
The spirit to venture, that I should o forth
To the see the lands of strangers far away.
Yet no man in the world’s so proud of heart,
So generous of gifts, so hold in youth,
In deeds so brave, or with so loyal lord,
That he can ever venture on the sea
Without great fears of what the Lord may bring.
His mind dwells not on the harmonious harp,
On ring-receiving, or the joy of woman,
Or worldly hopes, or anything at all
But the relentless rolling of the waves;
But he who goes to sea must ever yearn.
The grove bear blossom, cities grow more bright,
The fields adorn themselves, the world speeds up;
Yet all this urges forth the eager spirit
Of him who then desires to travel far
On the sea-paths. Likewise the cuckoo calls
With boding voice, the harbinger of summer
Offers but bitter sorrow in the breast.
The man who’s blessed with comfort does not know
What some then suffer who most widely travel
The paths of exile. Even now my heart
Journeys beyond its confines, and my thoughts
Over the sea, across the whale’s domain,
Travel afar the regions of the earth,
And then come back to me with greed and longing.
The cuckoo cries, incites the eager breast
On to the whale’s roads irresistably,
Over the wide expanses of the sea,
Because the joys of God mean more to me
Than this dead transitory life on land.
That earthly wealth lasts into eternity
I don’t believe. Always one of three things
Keeps all in doubt until one’s destined hour.
Sickness, old age, the sword, each one of these
May end the lives of doomed and transient men.
Therefore for every warrior the best
Memorial is the praise of living men
After his death, that ere he must depart
He shall have done good deeds on earth against
The malice of his foes, and noble works
Against the devil, and the sons of men
May after praise him, and glory live
For ever with the angels in the splendor
Of lasting life, in bliss amongst these hosts.
The great old days have gone, and all the grandeur
Of earth; there are not Caesars now or kings
Or patrons such as once there used to be,
Amongst whom were performed most glorious deeds,
Who lived in lordliest renown. Gone now
Is all that host, the splendors have departed.
Weaker men live and occupy the world,
Enjoy it but with care. Fame is brought low,
Earthly nobility grows old, decays,
As now throughout the world does every man.
Age comes on him, his countenance grows pale,
Gray-haired he mourns, and knows his former lords,
The sons of princes, given to the earth.
Nor when his life slips from him may his body
Taste sweetness or feel pain or stir his hand
Or use his mind to think. And though a brother
May strew with gold his brother’s grave, and bury
His corpse among the dead with heaps of treasure,
Wishing them to go with him, yet can gold
Bring no help to the soul that’s full of sins,
Against God’s wrath, although he hide it here
Ready before his death while yet he lives.
Great is the mighty of God, by which earth moves;
For He established its foundations firm,
The land’s expanses, and the sky above.
Foolish is he that does not fear his Lord,
For death will come upon him unprepared.
Blessed is he who humble lives; for grace
Shall come to him from heaven. The Creator
Shall make his spirit steadfast, for his faith
Is in God’s might. Man must control himself
With strength of mind, and firmly hold to that,
True to his pledges, pure in all his ways.
With moderation should each man behave
In all his dealings with both friend and foe.
No man will wish the friend he’s made to burn
In fires of hell, or on an earthly pyre,
Yet fate is mightier, the Lord’s ordaining
More powerful than any man can know.
Let us think where we have our real home,
And then consider how we may have come thither;
And let us labor also, so that we
May pass into eternal blessedness,
Where life belongs amid the love of God,
Hope in the heavens. The Holy One be thanked
That He has raised us up, the Prince of Glory,
Lord without end, to all eternity.
Amen.
Echo and the Bunnymen — Ocean Rain
On Thursday I will be traveling to Ohio for the first time. I will be attending the Kenyon College graduation to see a certain little sister graduate and to visit Cleveland for a few days. My visit to Detroit last year set the bar pretty high and I am not sure if Cleveland will live up to it — that’s right, I vacationed in Detroit (in the city, not in the suburbs), and it was fantastic. Let me just digress for a moment and tell you some of the many fun things you can do in Detroit:
In preparation of my visit to Cleveland (ha), I have been listening to some music from Ohio to get geared up for what I expect to be an awesome visit. I will put together a mix if I have some time. The bands will be:
*(wow, Dayton?!)
I have been listening to *a lot* of Afghan Whigs lately, which is not related to my trip to Ohio. In general, I would say safely that in the ’90s I was obsessed with the ’80s, which usually consisted of listening to a lot of The Cure and watching Valley Girl incessantly. Now I have this thing with the ’90s where every so often I become completely re-enamored with all the bands from that era and I watch Twin Peaks incessantly. It also involves being enamored with a particular men’s hairstyle, which I realize now may be the connection between Twin Peaks and The Afghan Whigs:
(Paste Magazine)
I can’t find a really good picture of Greg Dulli, but he had that same haircut, even though David Lynch’s is a bit wild in this shot. And there is the iconic Morrissey haircut:
You can see Dulli’s in the video here, where he also happens to look like a gangster…in fact, here are a bunch of videos. YouTube makes it so easy to add content, which may mean that I am lazy, but oh well. I will put together a mix of songs, but YouTube will offer their services in the meantime…
Afghan Whigs…
Dead Boys…
O’Jays…
Isley Brothers…
Devo…
Bone Thugs…and let me say that I saw them in May 2007 live and it was awesome…
Bootsy…
Thanks to the help of a person who had very kindly offered to store all of our paper flowsheets from many many years, therefore saving them from some horrible fate (cringe), I have the tracklisting from the WXYC show that I did in 2003 called Meet You In the Subway: San Francisco, 1977-1981. As you will see, I was a bit heavy on the Tuxedomoon and Chrome, and from what I remember now that I am looking at the list, I ran out of time, and missed the Dead Kennedys (yikes) and Factrix (yikes+1). And I went outside of the self-imposed year limit. Three hours seems like a really long time when you begin the show…but here it is! Starts out with a Ralph Records set:
…and if I could add some more songs now, they would be from:
Factrix — Empire of Passion/Slice of Life 7″ (1980), Scheintot (1982), Artifact (2003 release on Tesco)
Dead Kennedys — “Holiday in Cambodia,” “California Über Alles” from Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables (1980), anything from Plastic Surgery Disasters/In God We Trust, Inc. that doesn’t have profanity (1981/82)
And here are some videos, although do yourself a favor, don’t read the comments if you go to the site (that should go for every video on YouTube):
Dils…
Residents…
Snakefinger…
Factrix…
Flipper…
I may be the last person on Earth to hear about the Crystal Stilts, but that’s okay, it has not diminished my enjoyment of them, particularly “Converging in the Quiet,” which is just an *incredibly* lovely song, and an excellent title. They have been blogged about a lot, so I won’t repeat what has already been said…
In celebration of the Crystal Stilts, I have put together a very short little “mix.” When I heard “Converging in the Quiet,” I immediately thought of these songs. The tracklisting is here:
As you can see, this small collection is heavily skewed toward the early ’80s and Factory records, but the Crystal Stilts evoke that sound. I suppose that Dissolve is the “one unlike the others” in this collection, but I have been listening to that album a lot lately, and thought it appropriate for inclusion. And by the way, for years and years I was obsessed with The Names, and just now when searching for more information about them, I find that as of 12/22/07 they have a MySpace page. Some years ago, the only information about them was linked from the Crepuscule and Factory pages, and I actually emailed the webmaster of the site (I guess you will have to search for it in the Internet Archive) about The Names early last year and he said, “many years ago I had brief contact with the Names’ lead, but other than that he’s moved on and so has the world, I guess.” Well, I suppose that The Names have now reformed. It’s interesting, because a lot of bands from that era have reformed and appear to be playing shows regularly. Well, I might as well say this, too, that their album “Swimming” is highly underrated…for example, allmusic gives it a paltry two and a half stars, and Simon Reynolds calls them a Joy Division knock-off band in Rip It Up and Start Again. On the contrary, I think that The Names accomplish an extraordinary level of atmosphere on that record. Some of their later singles are more sort of straight-ahead post-punk dance stuff, but their ideas on Swimming are very unique, I would say. And Sort Sol, I don’t know, I guess that they have changed a lot over the years, and I know that they are worshipped in Denmark, so that’s all I will say about that. But Marble Station is one of my favorite songs, across the board, and I particularly like how repetitive and hypnotic it is.
So, here is the link to the songs in a zipped file…I was going to try out Muxtape, but it takes forever to upload each song, and there is a 10MB limit per song. I am trying drop.io instead…the tracks will be out of order, but hopefully it will work. And if you search for some of these bands on YouTube, there are videos galore! Thank goodness for YouTube.
This past Monday, I and thousands of others attended the “One-Stop Early Vote Rally” at the Dean Dome (Chapel Hill) with Barack Obama. The Dean Dome seats over 21,000 and I would say that almost 20,000 people were there. North Carolina Congressmen David Price and Mel Watt rallied the crowd, and Sam Perkins gave a short speech. Seeing Sam Perkins was a particularly nice surprise for me — I was also at the UNC vs. Wake Forest game in February 2007 when they honored the 1957 and 1982 championship teams, and that night I was able to see Jordan, Worthy, Perkins, Rosenbluth, Dean Smith, etc. in attendance for the ceremony.
But anyway, standing behind Perkins in the audience were Ty Lawson and Danny Green (perhaps some other players, but it was hard to see from my seat…), and Sam made sure to call them out for trying to go pro instead of staying all four years. That got quite a response from the crowd of UNC fans, as you can imagine. If you haven’t seen them already, be sure to check out the pictures of Barack practicing with the team the next morning. Those of us who have lived in Chapel Hill for a while and those of us from North Carolina have…uh, a bit of an obsession about basketball. So, knowing that Barack plays basketball and, like me, also chose UNC to win the NCAA championship (I did call Memphis, though), that was pretty cool to see.
But Sam has spent his post-NBA years traveling the world and helping those who are in need, and he described those experiences to us. He also explained that as a result of his years of service he is supporting Barack Obama, who he sees as having a similar mission of service. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, another athlete who is an activist, author, and humanitarian, is also a supporter of Barack Obama.
Barack gave a fine speech and not only talked about his visions for the entire country, but he also focused on local interests. People imply that he only talks in generalities or that he relies on goofy slogans that are superficial. That is not the candidate that I saw on Monday. He talked about issues that effect North Carolinians and he talked about bringing business back to small towns and improving the economy. He emphasized how important it is to reduce the cost of higher education and to raise salaries for educators. He talked about his upbringing and how it has inspired his love for this country. Most importantly, he emphasized the healing of racial and class divides. I will say, though, that he tried to address the divide in the Democratic party, and he said that no matter what happens, at least George Bush won’t be on the ticket this fall. Well, I realize that this issue is pretty difficult to address right now, but the party is incredibly divided, and tensions are only going to get worse, and resentment has already started to sink in pretty deeply. If you take a look at the debates online, the comments on CNN, for example, or the comments to this article in the Daily Tar Heel, it’s kind of hard, no matter what “side” you are on, not to get upset and angry at the vitriol. Granted, posting comments anonymously on a website is just an easy way to be a jerk, but Democrats have seemingly totally forgotten about McCain, and the complete focus is on Obama versus Clinton. That is my major concern at this point, and I am eager for our leaders to start addressing this as soon as possible, particularly with November being only six months away…
(photos by Josh)
I just found a photocopy I made at some point — I apparently neglected to note the magazine and other details regarding origin: “James Ellroy selects his ten favourite crime movies.” (Naturally the spelling of “favourite” is a clue here…) Considering Ellroy is the King of Crime, and that L.A. Confidential is such a great flick, it is really too bad that the film adaptation of Black Dahlia was so terribly disappointing (in my opinion). And what has happened to Brian de Palma? Have you ever seen Sisters? Greatness. But anyway, Ellroy provides us with a great list here (with L.A. Confidential at number one, of course). He says, “Crime movies are the only movies I enjoy… They are the only kind of film that I see, and I see precious few of them. And as far as crime movies go, very few are really truthful.”
Ellroy often mentions The Prowler in interviews. Another one mentioned but not in the top ten: Don Siegel’s Charley Varrick. I also have another list for you — “Most Demented Films,” and it is from MEAN Magazine, August 2000. Here are the 10 most demented:
I actually would disagree that Head is “demented” – it’s definitely weird, I guess you could say, but it’s not totally twisted and degenerate like some of the other movies in the list. Head is actually adorable because The Monkees are so darn cute and funny, even if they are tripping on acid. I would say that a film is much more demented when drugs are not an obvious influence, but it still remains totally creepy. Granted, drugs can make for some demented filmmaking. But the films that are truly degenerate are those that were intended to be mainstream and ended up straying. Because otherwise you could say that exploitation films like Jess Franco‘s should be on the list, which are intentionally twisted, of course. And if you like such things, do yourself a favor and buy Sleazoid Express. An encyclopedia of the genre.
