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post #162
bio: chris

wish list
first post
that week

Previous Posts
On Sting (and other crap)
Things I Say to My Dad, Because (like myself) He Thinks, Irrationally, He's Going to Die Soon
Why Hipstamatic Was Invented
Happy Mother's Day, Y'all
Black Pear Tree (Guest Post from John Darnielle)

Livin' Livin' Livin' Livin' Livin' Livin' Livin' Life
--I'm very excited about Blaine (Nutshell Kingdom) moving to NYC in April. I'm excited for lots of reasons, the biggest being a) I am a big fan of Nutshell Kingdom, and although I have been fortunate enough to meet many of the Robotfolk, I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting Blaine and b) it will be SO nice to have another knowledgeable, passionate Red Sox fan in the area. Blaine, if you're reading this, there's a Red Sox bar somewhere in Midtown, I think, called The Riviera. I have never been to The Riviera. I suspect it will be one of those large-type places with lots of meatheads in it. But they will be Red Sox meatheads. And the important thing is, the Sox game will be on. We will sit there with our drinks and talk about why Mark Bellhorn is such an important presence in the lineup, why Tim Wakefield is such a rare and valuable part of a pitching staff, and how Theo Epstein will once again acquire Dave Roberts at the trade deadline.

Also, Blaine, we will get drunk and I will make you sing "Tessie" with me. Good times, my man. Good times.

-- Neutral Milk Hotel is one of my favorite bands of all time. And "Communist Daughter" is one of my favorite Neutral Milk Hotel songs.

It is also one of my favorite places to hang out in Toronto. Actually, it's one of the only places in Toronto that I've hung out in.

I don't think the song is about the bar, but maybe the bar is about the song? I don't know. They serve a tasty blonde ale and nachos that will fill you up. All for a very reasonable price.

They also have a toilet that will spit your own pee in your face as you bend over to flush the toilet, but I find that sort of thing charming.

I know so many people who think they can do it alone
They isolate their heads and stay in the city zone

But what can you tell them?
What can you say that wont make them defensive? So...

Hang on to your ego
Hang on but I know that you're gonna lose the fight

They come home like they're peaceful
But inside they're so uptight
They trip through the day and waste all their thoughts at night.

But how can I say it?
How can I come
home when I know I'm guilty?
--Brian Wilson

--Until now, I have never worked anywhere where each and every person who works there is not only competent, but excels in their field and give a shit about doing it. That kind of thing rubs off on a person. Not only is everyone extremely competent, but they are extremely relaxed as well. Braggartry and a loudish ego are frowned upon in certain areas of society, but it there anything more inspiring and uplifiting than a shared sense of quiet confidence and relaxed assuredness?

-- I am upset with myself that, what, over a year has gone by since Warren Zevon died and I still haven't written the tribute piece to him that I've always meant to? I am not gonna do that now, but I would like to say a few things about him, if I may.

It seems that a lot of times when I tell somebody that I like Warren Zevon, the person responds with something like "Really? Do you like Billy Joel, too?"

Now, I know The Zeve and Billy Joel are both singer-songwriters who play piano. Zevon also plays guitar* But just, well, don't even listen to him if you don't want to. Just take 5 minutes and read some of his lyrics. Excitable Boy? Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner? Zevon has an acid tongue and a wit like a scimitar. He revels in the Beauty of the Nasty, and carries it with a warm heart and the reverence of a doting son. Get back to me after you've given Mr. Zevon his fair shake.

*(I know... I should say "played" guitar. But I can't bring myself to do it. Warren Zevon still plays guitar. Just as the headless Roland still carries around his Thompson gun through Ireland, through Lebanon, through Palestine, and Berkeley.

One more thing about Warren Zevon and then I'll stop. You know, they guy wrote a whole album about dying of lung cancer. (The Wind) But the song that makes my room get all dusty? Hit Somebody (The Hockey Song). A little ditty about a Canadian farm boy who always wanted to score goals but made his living as an NHL Goon.

"Brains over braun, that might work for you. But what else can a farm boy from Canada do?"

All you hockey fans out there, listen to the last verse of that song and tell me you don't get a little misty when you hear it.

He also wrote a coupla songs about monkeys.

--Speaking of songs... you probably know that song Radiohead did called "No Surprises." There's an early version of that song not the version found on OK Computer that contains the lyric "He was sick of her excuses to not take off her dress when bleedin' in the bathroom."

That's been my Favorite Lyric of All Time for years now. I don't know exactly why. But it's loaded.

--I love the fact that there are so many UNC fans on the Robot. And even though UNC beats Uconn every year (for those of you who don't know, I'm a huge Uconn Husky fan), the UNC fans pull for the Huskies and the Husky fans pull for UNC when they're not playing each other. Hey, we all hate Duke, right?

--I did not give any money to the homeless today. But I did give a cigarette to a homeless guy. He even offered me fifty cents for it.

I did not take it. Please address any and all hate mail to

Barry the Bartender at NWP is absolutely, positively, without a shadow of a doubt, the best in the business. And whoever doubts me, I invite you to share a drink with me sometime there on a Thursday, Friday, or Saturday. (thanks, k)

And finally, I would like to leave you with the words of Daniel Johnston A paranoid-schizophrenic who burned his brain out on acid and lived in his parents' garage for years.

Oh, this is life
This is life
And everything's all right
Living living living living living living living living life

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