the other josh

I don't know what I could put in here, in light of my previous post, that won't make me sound utterly out of my head. Man, and I wasted a perfectly good title on that, too. Ah, well.
So, I noticed that they changed the layout again! ...heh, um.
Gravity's Rainbow does sound like a good idea, though.

On to content!
Music: Peter Bjorn & John's 2006 album Writer's Block is the most amazing piece of pop in recent memory!
Books: Sattre Press keeps old books in print (this is a wonderful thing)!
Grammar: Exclamation marks are in this season!
Food: I'm about to go to Freebird's (burritos for people who like to eat, and even for some who don't)!
Parentheses: This is so freaking meta (what)!

You were maybe not expecting this? To be honest, I had heard two of the singles off this album before this, and was thoroughly unimpressed. This one, however, brings everything about a pop song you could want to the table. Simple, loopy drums? Upbeat melody? Whistled melody? And that's just the intro. This song bleeds nostalgia out of its vintage veins. It's warm and fuzzy in its very essence. Sheesh, enough out of me. Just enjoy.

I haven't been putting anything on here lately. I mean in like a month, lately.
I just want to disappear. Not like in a "teen angst" sort of way, but a more existential kind of thing. Just curl up into my own self-referential one-way bubble and soak up all the alone time. And then when all the isolation gets to be too much to bear, I can just...
I don't know. Watch cartoons, or read Gravity's Rainbow for once. Chat up failed romances as if we still cared about each other? Honestly, I don't have a clue what I'd do at that point. I've always had a hard time with that part of it.

I need a break from being on break.

Alright Here Goes.
Tetuzi Akiyama played an acoustic set with my friend Juan G. on upright bass. Honestly, it was kind of boring, especially compared to Tetuzi's electric guitar set last time he played in Houston. At least I didn't show up late, after the doors closed.
Charalambides was a pretty fun trip. A husband-and-wife soft psych duo where the guy makes his guitar sound as ethereal and, well, strange as a sitar and the girl sings in such a haunting voice it's impossible not to sigh and get chills.
Anyway, that was a week ago. Spring break has been fun, but I haven't caught up with anybody I wanted to from my old schools. Eh, I haven't really done... anything. At all. The whole week.
Life is good.

Well, I really don't want to do this, but it's definitely not last weekend anymore, so here goes.
I arrived about thirty minutes after the doors opened, according to the website. Some friends of mine bought tickets which moved the time forward an hour. This means I got front row (standing room only). I managed to keep it for the whole concert. Yes, I know it must have been great. It was.
Experimental Dental School opened first. A white male singer/ guitarist, white male drummer, asian (look I don't know OKAY) keyboardist/ backup singer. They were a lot like Deerhoof, except with a constant "buzz" effect on the lead vocals, and a fairly strong Primus vibe. The guitar sort of overpowered the keyboards, which were mostly just for whistles and fun sonic interjections. They played fast and unbelievably tight. All in all, a great opener, you may want to check them out.
Next was Macromantics, an Australian rapper and her hot (also female) DJ. Suffice to say that she had the wrong audience. Despite roughly 20 or so overweight women showing up for her, their... robust... hero. She showed up in a pink one-piece bathing suit, I think, and short-short jeans held up by a diamond-studded white belt. I thought I had died and gone to a Chicago lorded over by a vile yet ultimately hip Scruff McGruff. I almost texted my friend at the concert "Welcome to the eighties!!! No escape!!!" If I had gone to a Macromantics concert, I may have been less displeased. No promises.
The main event, Deerhoof, set up quickly after a 10-15 minute intermission. I lucked out like mad, managing a front-row not 3 feet from the drummer. Greg Saunier, by the way, is my hero. The other performers were John Dieterich, a wicked awesome guitarist who has his hit down, and Satomi Matsuzaki, the bass player and untrained soprano singer with a still (amazingly, after all these years in the states) thick as buttermilk Japanese accent.They played a bunch of songs from their new album, Friend Opportunity, including the one I recognised. They also played stunning versions of songs from their last two albums. I met a girl there who shouted out "Dog on the Sidewalk" (from Milk Man) before every song until they played it about four songs in. Greg's chair broke, and a couple replacements were brought in in turn. The trio played a very entertaining encore, followed by a stage-edge merching. A few people (myself being the third) got up on stage to get the broken drumsticks behind Greg's kit. I stayed up on stage, because it was pretty crowded down there, and struck up a conversation with Greg. He's very personable, loves to laugh, and has been playing for about 30 years. I got him to sign a broken drumstick. He doesn't use a hi-hat, by the way. Instead, he uses two crash cymbals. Completely astonishing.
And this was a super-long post, so I'll finish this by saying afterwards I got drunk and ate pizza! And also, more to come.

Deerhoof is Saturday! I mean, tomorrow. I mean, It still feels like Thursday. And Tetuzi Akiyama (Japanese Zen-guitarist extraordinaire) w/ Juan G. (a cool bassist friend of mine), and Charalambides are Sunday!
Expect full reports.
Expect very few, if any, pictures.
Expect unfavorable results when microwaving pop tarts.

Ever wonder what happened to Steve from Blue's Clues? He made an album with Steven Drozd of the Flaming Lips like four years ago and not ten people noticed. Now he's making another album. It's really good stuff, this last one, and his new one's on his myspace (not all of it, I imagine), so... go see!

No, I'm not really a deist, but I did finally figure out what I would do if I had a billion dollars.

I would hire Wilford Brimley for a series of commercials to be aired during whichever is the most widely-viewed late-night program on American television. I don't know which show this is; I presume Mr. Brimley would. I would pay for an advertisement during each splat of ad slots during that program. My ad would feature Wilford Brimley walking slowly out of obscurement in a dark alley at night. He would then ask the viewer, depending on the exact time:
"It's x o'clock. Do you knows where your childrens is?"
The ad would then show the number, in fuzzy, yellow print, of the missing children's hotline, given as "missin chilrens hotline."

I figure this will cost roughly one billion dollars.

My first kiss was actually based on deception, which is okay with me, that's kind of a "life trend" with me. It's a great story, though. It all started when I met this girl at a dance club on a cruise ship. I was bored as hell because the music sucked, and the girls dancing were just buh. So I sat down, looked around, and saw this very cute, very lonely blond girl with her red square-frame glasses down at the edge of her nose staring at me over the top of the club chair's armrest. I introduced myself, said "let's get outta here" in so many words, and... spent the rest of the night trying to ditch her two cousins, who had dragged her there in the first place. The next night, I snuck out of my room at about midnight to go prowling around the decks with her. While I was out, my sister woke up, noticed I was gone, and told my folks, who completely freaked out and had the ship searched for me. In the meantime, I had gone back with Nicole (her name) to her room. I got in so much trouble for this, let me tell you. Okay, not really, but I got busted pretty hard. The following night, I was sitting in Nicole's room with her two female cousins. By this time, we were pretty much an "item," so I think the two were just waiting for something to happen. Nicole's got her hair in tiny dreadlocks, which was a lot cuter and less stupid than it sounds, and we talk a while before she says "Hey, I'm sorry I got you in trouble last night." I say "No biggie" (hey, gimme a break, I was like 15). She says "no, really," and I say "hey, you're worth it." And I leaned in, brushed a lock of hair (shut up) out of the way, grabbed her chin and kissed her on the lips.
We made out a lot after that, but only one (1) french kiss before our time together ended. Our "relationship," such as it was after that, based around mutual love of techno music, lasted for about eight months, which is more a testament to the patience of entropy than anything else.
My first kiss with the girl who I was seeing at the time is the one that I call my first "real" kiss. Not because it didn't involve cheating, but because it was everything a first kiss should be. It was at church camp, at 2:30am, on a Saturday. I had convinced her to sneak out of her cabin at night to go to the bathrooms, beside which we would make out or something. I hadn't really thought this through. But she does it anyway. It's the last night of camp, I'm sitting outside playing poker, and I see her walking. After she goes inside the women's room, I make my way to the men's. She comes out, meets me halfway, and half-asleep, plants her lips onto mine as I close my eyes (never kiss with your eyes open).
I don't know. But if anybody asks me, I'll swear up and down that the sun rose that moment while I wasn't looking, and set before I caught it. I don't know how long it took me to get my head back together, but that kiss turned into a french, and I'm not sure whose idea it was. During the course of our relationship, we never did not french kiss. The fond memories make up for the heartache.

Christ, I feel like I just wrote in to Hustler or something. Gag.
<neil hamburger>
But thaa-aaaat's my liiife!
</neil hamburger>

What was your first kiss like?

And I have proof, in a way.
Shrine of Worship   0 Defeated   12:59:25(2)
Oh, and I can now play through hard mode, if I want to cry.
And if I load this particular save file, I can go through Time Attack mode.
On what? you may ask.
Shadow of the Colossus.
A game so bad ass, it is composed solely of boss fights. A game so cyclopean, one of said bosses is comparable in length to a level of Super Mario. These bosses are tiny compared to their world.

I should add that this is the first game I have beaten in recent memory, that it took me almost an hour longer than the upper limit of the play time estimates, and that, if my roommate Adam hadn't re-rented it while I was out, I would have beaten it (including cutscenes) about four minutes after it was due back at the video store.
If those thirteen hours weren't spread out over five days, I would seriously try to get through either Time Attack or Hard mode before I have to leave for Vegas on Thursday. But as it stands, I'll just hafta be content with the coolest save file on my memory card.

By the time I post this, I will be - just barely - nineteen years old. Yeah, I was born on Valentine's Day. No, it's never got me any play. Yeah, it's a bullshit holiday.
No, I don't have a girlfriend "for Valentine's Day." Sure, girlfriend "or whatever," right.
What is it about holidays that bring out the most cynical parts about us? Is it just that some people always have to rain on parades? I don't think that's accurate or fair. Maybe we're afraid of having too much fun, or find celebration to be some kind of "emotional luxury." Maybe it's just Seasonal Affective Disorder, running from "genocide season (thanksgiving)" through "manufactured love industry day (valentine's)," who the fuck knows.
Maybe there is no love, only confusion and misery.
So yeah, happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

And she was alright.
She had a great sense of humor.
Oh, he was pretty enough, but the other girl she was with was a blast to hang out with (that matters).
So why do I really like this girl?
Well, the sense of humor is a huge "plus."
But mostly it's because she really reminds me of a girl I used to play tennis with back in my freshman year of high school. Sophie was just starting out in tennis, same as me. We had both done very well our first year in school, but she had been to the tennis camp where we met once before. Our first game, we matched each other perfectly. But towards the end, I was following her lead instead of the other way around. We went to and from tie scores for almost half an hour, and she ended up taking me out with a shot I wouldn't have been able to return anyway. Just keeping pace, from the very beginning to the very end, volleying back and forth with little room to spare, was a pure rush. That's what talking with her is like.
But it was the sense of humor which first caught my ear!