It's been a while since I last graced the Information Superhighway with my semi-organized blathering, so I'll endeavor to make this brief.
To put it bluntly, I had the nerd-highlight of my life today. If it is not already apparent to you, I am a nerd, and a proud one at that. One of my nerdiest daily activities is a few games of Scrabble through the Internet Scrabble Club (isc.ro ...join me, won't you? My ID is tgavrich07). Anyhoo, during the course of a game today, I played the word "fellated," with the "f" on a red Triple Word Score space, and garnered 88 points. I ended up winning the game. As I punched in this brilliantly irreverent play, I chuckled aloud, and did a "Yesssssss" that would have brought an envious smile to even the stoic face of Napoleon Dynamite.
Well that's all for now. Call me a nerd if you want--I'll cop to it. But you can still talk to me. I'll try not to breathe on you...honest!
Tonight's lyrical selection is especially apt, I feel.
"White and Nerdy," by 'Weird' Al Yankovic
"They see me mowin'
My front lawn
I know they're all thinking
I'm so White N' nerdy
Think I'm just too white n' nerdy
Think I'm just too white n' nerdy
Can't you see I'm white n' nerdy
Look at me I'm white n' nerdy!
I wanna roll with-
The gangsters
But so far they all think
I'm too white n' nerdy
Think I'm just too white n' nerdy
Think I'm just too white n' nerdy
I'm just too white n' nerdy
Really, really white n' nerdy
First in my class here at M.I.T.
Got skills, I'm a Champion of DND
MC Escher that's my favorite MC
Keep your 40
I'll just have an Earl Grey tea
My rims never spin to the contrary
You'll find they're quite stationary
All of my action figures are cherry
Steven Hawkings in my library
My MySpace page is all totally pimped out
I got people begging for my top 8 spaces
Yo I know Pi to a thousand places
Ain't got no grills but I still wear braces
I order all of my sandwiches with mayonnaise
I'm a whiz at minesweeper I can play for days
Once you see my sweet moves you're gonna stay amazed,
my fingers movin' so fast I'll set the place ablaze
There's no killer app I haven't run
At Pascal, well, I'm number 1
Do vector calculus just for fun
I ain't got a gat but I gotta soldering gun
Happy days is my favourite theme song
I can sure kick your butt in a game of ping pong
I'll ace any trivia quiz you bring on
I'm fluent in Java Script as well as Klingon
They see me roll on, my Segway!
I know in my heart they think I'm
white n' nerdy!
Think I'm just too white n' nerdy
Think I'm just too white n' nerdy
Can't you see I'm white n' nerdy
Look at me I'm white n' nerdy
I'd like to roll with-
The gangsters
Although it's apparent I'm too
White n' nerdy
Think I'm just too white n' nerdy
I'm just too white n' nerdy
How'd I get so white n' nerdy?
I've been browsing, inspectin'
X-men comics you know I collect 'em
The pens in my pocket
I must protect 'em
my ergonomic keyboard never leaves me bored
Shopping online for deals on some writable media
I edit Wikipedia
I memorized Holy Grail really well
I can recite it right now and have you ROTFLOL
I got a business doing websites
When my friends need some code who do they call?
I do HTML for them all
Even made a homepage for my dog!
Yo! Got myself a fanny pack
they were having a sale down at the GAP
Spend my nights with a roll of bubble wrap
POP POP! Hope no one sees me gettin' freaky!
I'm nerdy in the extreme and whiter than sour creme
I was in AV club and Glee club and even the chess team!
Only question I ever thought was hard
Was do I like Kirk or do I like Picard?
I spend every weekend
at the renaissance fair
I got my name on my under wear!
They see me strollin'
They laughin'
And rollin' their eyes 'cause
I'm so white n' nerdy
Just because I'm white n' nerdy
Just because I'm white n' nerdy
All because I'm white n' nerdy
Holy cow I'm white n' nerdy
I wanna bowl with-
the gangsters
but oh well it's obvious I'm
white n' nerdy
Think I'm just too white n' nerdy
Think I'm just too white n' nerdy
I'm just too white n' nerdy
Look at me I'm white n' nerdy!"
Monday, July 30, 2007
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
A Goode (sic), Humourous (sic) Programme (sic)
Well I'm sitting in a easy chair in my basement. It's 10:30 PM, and I'm watching what I have always thought was one of the most underrated shows of all time. That show, of course, is "The Wonder Years," which I have recently discovered, on channel 10 (ion TV is the name of the channel) from 10-11PM on weeknights (jeez, that sentence is choppier than the North Sea during a bad winter; sorry about that).
Anyhoo, although I quite enjoy watching "The Wonder Years," it does make me kinda sad. I find myself envious of the characters in the show, even when they're having a tough time of things. And the narration by an older, wiser Kevin Arnold (the show's protagonist) is spot-on, capturing nearly perfectly the feelings of a typical teenage boy towards life's little things. And therein lies the brilliance of "The Wonder Years." Even though it is so highly idealistic, it works very well. Even though it may be slightly dated, it is nearly as much Americana as hot dogs and apple pie.
Anyway, this wasn't a terribly insightful post (more like a plug for a nostalgic TV favorite), but it's more than nothing (though I suppose some might disagree).
Tonight's lyrical suggestion is quite obvious if you know "The Wonder Years." It is "With A Little Help From My Friends," by The Beatles.
"What would you think if I sang out of tune,
Would you stand up and walk out on me?
Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song,
And I'll try not to sing out of key.
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends,
Mmm I get high with a little help from my friends,
Mmm I'm gonna to try with a little help from my friends.
What do I do when my love is away?
(Does it worry you to be alone?)
How do I feel by the end of the day?
(Are you sad because you're on your own?)
No, I get by with a little help from my friends,
Mmm I get high with a little help from my friends,
Mmm I'm gonna to try with a little help from my friends
Do you need anybody?
I need somebody to love.
Could it be anybody?
I want somebody to love.
(Would you believe in a love at first sight?)
Yes I'm certain that it happens all the time.
(What do you see when you turn out the light?)
I can't tell you, but I know it's mine.
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends,
Mmm I get high with a little help from my friends,
Oh I'm gonna try with a little help from my friends
Do you need anybody?
I just need someone to love.
Could it be anybody?
I want somebody to love.
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends,
Mmm gonna try with a little help from my friends
Oh I get high with a little help from my friends
Yes I get by with a little help from my friends,
With a little help from my friends..."
Anyhoo, although I quite enjoy watching "The Wonder Years," it does make me kinda sad. I find myself envious of the characters in the show, even when they're having a tough time of things. And the narration by an older, wiser Kevin Arnold (the show's protagonist) is spot-on, capturing nearly perfectly the feelings of a typical teenage boy towards life's little things. And therein lies the brilliance of "The Wonder Years." Even though it is so highly idealistic, it works very well. Even though it may be slightly dated, it is nearly as much Americana as hot dogs and apple pie.
Anyway, this wasn't a terribly insightful post (more like a plug for a nostalgic TV favorite), but it's more than nothing (though I suppose some might disagree).
Tonight's lyrical suggestion is quite obvious if you know "The Wonder Years." It is "With A Little Help From My Friends," by The Beatles.
"What would you think if I sang out of tune,
Would you stand up and walk out on me?
Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song,
And I'll try not to sing out of key.
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends,
Mmm I get high with a little help from my friends,
Mmm I'm gonna to try with a little help from my friends.
What do I do when my love is away?
(Does it worry you to be alone?)
How do I feel by the end of the day?
(Are you sad because you're on your own?)
No, I get by with a little help from my friends,
Mmm I get high with a little help from my friends,
Mmm I'm gonna to try with a little help from my friends
Do you need anybody?
I need somebody to love.
Could it be anybody?
I want somebody to love.
(Would you believe in a love at first sight?)
Yes I'm certain that it happens all the time.
(What do you see when you turn out the light?)
I can't tell you, but I know it's mine.
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends,
Mmm I get high with a little help from my friends,
Oh I'm gonna try with a little help from my friends
Do you need anybody?
I just need someone to love.
Could it be anybody?
I want somebody to love.
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends,
Mmm gonna try with a little help from my friends
Oh I get high with a little help from my friends
Yes I get by with a little help from my friends,
With a little help from my friends..."
Monday, June 11, 2007
A Collection of Thoughts
My apologies for a somewhat prolonged lull in the action. To those of you still reading, bless you.
So, quite a lot has happened since last I wrote. Well perhaps that is a bit of an overstatement, but there are a couple things worth mentioning.
~ ~ ~
First of all, after graduating high school, I attended my first and second major booze-fueled social gatherings. And while I did not really drink at either (my personal feelings about alcohol are fodder for another post, but suffice it to say I'm not a fan), I must admit that I had a good time. Though I was a little unsettled to see so many of my friends and acquaintances stumbling and slurring their words and carrying on quite a lot, it was good fun to see people getting along so well. I was also pleased that no one placed too much pressure on me to drink. My personal distaste for consuming alcohol was respected, and I salute everyone for being kind in that way. I also had a wonderful time going to and fro with my van-mates (you know who you are), so all in all, it was a good weekend.
I will close this segment by saying that after these parties, I had somewhat mixed feelings about taking such a strict stance at these parties. However, I do not lament the time I had, and am sure I will figure out the right measure of personal strictness in college.
This evening's lyrical selection is somewhat random, but I like the song, so whatever.
"If You See Her, Say Hello," by Bob Dylan
"If you see her, say hello, she might be in Tangier
She left here last early spring, is livin' there, I hear
Say for me that I'm all right though things get kind of slow
She might think that I've forgotten her, don't tell her it isn't so.
We had a falling-out, like lovers often will
And to think of how she left that night, it still brings me a chill
And though our separation, it pierced me to the heart
She still lives inside of me, we've never been apart.
If you get close to her, kiss her once for me
I always have respected her for busting out and gettin' free
Oh, whatever makes her happy, I won't stand in the way
Though the bitter taste still lingers on from the night I tried to make her stay.
I see a lot of people as I make the rounds
And I hear her name here and there as I go from town to town
And I've never gotten used to it, I've just learned to turn it off
Either I'm too sensitive or else I'm gettin' soft.
Sundown, yellow moon, I replay the past
I know every scene by heart, they all went by so fast
If she's passin' back this way, I'm not that hard to find
Tell her she can look me up if she's got the time."
So, quite a lot has happened since last I wrote. Well perhaps that is a bit of an overstatement, but there are a couple things worth mentioning.
~ ~ ~
First of all, after graduating high school, I attended my first and second major booze-fueled social gatherings. And while I did not really drink at either (my personal feelings about alcohol are fodder for another post, but suffice it to say I'm not a fan), I must admit that I had a good time. Though I was a little unsettled to see so many of my friends and acquaintances stumbling and slurring their words and carrying on quite a lot, it was good fun to see people getting along so well. I was also pleased that no one placed too much pressure on me to drink. My personal distaste for consuming alcohol was respected, and I salute everyone for being kind in that way. I also had a wonderful time going to and fro with my van-mates (you know who you are), so all in all, it was a good weekend.
I will close this segment by saying that after these parties, I had somewhat mixed feelings about taking such a strict stance at these parties. However, I do not lament the time I had, and am sure I will figure out the right measure of personal strictness in college.
This evening's lyrical selection is somewhat random, but I like the song, so whatever.
"If You See Her, Say Hello," by Bob Dylan
"If you see her, say hello, she might be in Tangier
She left here last early spring, is livin' there, I hear
Say for me that I'm all right though things get kind of slow
She might think that I've forgotten her, don't tell her it isn't so.
We had a falling-out, like lovers often will
And to think of how she left that night, it still brings me a chill
And though our separation, it pierced me to the heart
She still lives inside of me, we've never been apart.
If you get close to her, kiss her once for me
I always have respected her for busting out and gettin' free
Oh, whatever makes her happy, I won't stand in the way
Though the bitter taste still lingers on from the night I tried to make her stay.
I see a lot of people as I make the rounds
And I hear her name here and there as I go from town to town
And I've never gotten used to it, I've just learned to turn it off
Either I'm too sensitive or else I'm gettin' soft.
Sundown, yellow moon, I replay the past
I know every scene by heart, they all went by so fast
If she's passin' back this way, I'm not that hard to find
Tell her she can look me up if she's got the time."
Sunday, May 27, 2007
The End Of An Era
Well, ladies and gentlemen, that's all she wrote. My high school years are over. And I must remark that the last four years were well spent (not to mention the thousands of tuition dollars doled out by Ma and Pa). Now, I feel obligated to engage in some brief recapitulation of my high school years.
WHAT I ENJOY(ED)/FELT GOOD ABOUT:
- The People: I count myself extraordinarily fortunate to have coexisted with so many wonderfully bright, friendly people. People from various backgrounds, who created an environment of ideas from various perspectives. I know that had I attended public high school, I would not have been exposed to such vibrant characters and minds.
- The Learning: With such sharp, excellent faculty as there are at my now-alma mater (God, it makes me feel old to say that), who needs certification in education? Male and female, younger and older alike, there have been a great many adults who partially donate their own minds in the hopes of growing those of their students. Perhaps I will someday try my hand at teaching (though I'm sure some of you might not want to subject your children to my oddness), and this feeling is because of those who have taught me not only how to read critically, but to THINK critically. I now understand how to analyze myself as I would a great work of literature, and I am eternally grateful for all the wisdom to which our teachers have exposed all of us.
- The Community: I am touched by the keen ability in the school to understand people's differences and embrace them. My school has set an admirable example in this way; because of the wide range of interests that one may pursue, one is seldom at a loss for something interesting to do. Hardly anyone is unable to follow his/her own path (assuming that path is within reason, of course) because of the breadth of interests served by the school. I for one have always considered myself as existing outside the "mainstream," but I have never felt out-of-place, and for that I am indeed grateful.
WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN BETTER:
- The Society: While I believe the school knows how to celebrate one's differences, I have felt on occasion that some students band together and do not mirror the views of the school. I have at times seen and heard undeserved ridicule, and I am saddened that we are not more tolerant. But with the right leadership, people can be shown a more supportive attitude, and fewer people will feel resentment of "normal" and "cool" students. We all deserve a fair shake, and sometimes I have felt that certain people have been slighted.
As you can see, my general complaints about my high school experience are relatively minor when compared with my compliments of the period. I will air a few grievances against myself, however.
- I didn't exactly capitalize on the opportunity to "begin anew" and establish a more standard reputation than I had had in middle school. Don't get me wrong--I have never wanted to be a conformist, and I know I'm not cut out for garden-variety "coolness," but I think I could have done a decidedly better job of integrating myself into school society.
- I underachieved academically. I had a chance to wow the masses, and I just never found the motivation to do things like reading ahead in textbooks, going in for a lot of extra help, and studying seriously for important examinations. I certainly hope that I will learn these valuable skills shortly after the beginning of the next stage of my education.
- And speaking of underachievement, in terms of matters of the heart, I remain utterly, profoundly deficient. No more need be said of that.
Anyhoo, when all positives and negatives are taken into account, I give my high school experience a solid B. Not bad, but there is room for improvement. College begins the last week in August, and I will set about working on improving upon the solid B at that time. But fear not, I shall continue to blog, so stay tuned.
Tonight's lyrical selection: "Don't Stop," by Fleetwood Mac
"If you wake up and dont want to smile,
If it takes just a little while,
Open your eyes and look at the day,
You'll see things in a different way.
Dont stop, thinking about tomorrow,
Dont stop, it'll soon be here,
It'll be, better than before,
Yesterdays gone, yesterdays gone.
Why not think about times to come,
And not about the things that you've done,
If your life was bad to you,
Just think what tomorrow will do.
Dont stop, thinking about tomorrow,
Dont stop, it'll soon be here,
It'll be, better than before,
Yesterdays gone, yesterdays gone.
All I want is to see you smile,
Even if it takes just a little while,
I know you don't believe that its true,
I never meant any harm to you.
Dont stop, thinking about tomorrow,
Dont stop, it'll soon be here,
It'll be, better than before,
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone.
Don't you look back,
Don't you look back..."
WHAT I ENJOY(ED)/FELT GOOD ABOUT:
- The People: I count myself extraordinarily fortunate to have coexisted with so many wonderfully bright, friendly people. People from various backgrounds, who created an environment of ideas from various perspectives. I know that had I attended public high school, I would not have been exposed to such vibrant characters and minds.
- The Learning: With such sharp, excellent faculty as there are at my now-alma mater (God, it makes me feel old to say that), who needs certification in education? Male and female, younger and older alike, there have been a great many adults who partially donate their own minds in the hopes of growing those of their students. Perhaps I will someday try my hand at teaching (though I'm sure some of you might not want to subject your children to my oddness), and this feeling is because of those who have taught me not only how to read critically, but to THINK critically. I now understand how to analyze myself as I would a great work of literature, and I am eternally grateful for all the wisdom to which our teachers have exposed all of us.
- The Community: I am touched by the keen ability in the school to understand people's differences and embrace them. My school has set an admirable example in this way; because of the wide range of interests that one may pursue, one is seldom at a loss for something interesting to do. Hardly anyone is unable to follow his/her own path (assuming that path is within reason, of course) because of the breadth of interests served by the school. I for one have always considered myself as existing outside the "mainstream," but I have never felt out-of-place, and for that I am indeed grateful.
WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN BETTER:
- The Society: While I believe the school knows how to celebrate one's differences, I have felt on occasion that some students band together and do not mirror the views of the school. I have at times seen and heard undeserved ridicule, and I am saddened that we are not more tolerant. But with the right leadership, people can be shown a more supportive attitude, and fewer people will feel resentment of "normal" and "cool" students. We all deserve a fair shake, and sometimes I have felt that certain people have been slighted.
As you can see, my general complaints about my high school experience are relatively minor when compared with my compliments of the period. I will air a few grievances against myself, however.
- I didn't exactly capitalize on the opportunity to "begin anew" and establish a more standard reputation than I had had in middle school. Don't get me wrong--I have never wanted to be a conformist, and I know I'm not cut out for garden-variety "coolness," but I think I could have done a decidedly better job of integrating myself into school society.
- I underachieved academically. I had a chance to wow the masses, and I just never found the motivation to do things like reading ahead in textbooks, going in for a lot of extra help, and studying seriously for important examinations. I certainly hope that I will learn these valuable skills shortly after the beginning of the next stage of my education.
- And speaking of underachievement, in terms of matters of the heart, I remain utterly, profoundly deficient. No more need be said of that.
Anyhoo, when all positives and negatives are taken into account, I give my high school experience a solid B. Not bad, but there is room for improvement. College begins the last week in August, and I will set about working on improving upon the solid B at that time. But fear not, I shall continue to blog, so stay tuned.
Tonight's lyrical selection: "Don't Stop," by Fleetwood Mac
"If you wake up and dont want to smile,
If it takes just a little while,
Open your eyes and look at the day,
You'll see things in a different way.
Dont stop, thinking about tomorrow,
Dont stop, it'll soon be here,
It'll be, better than before,
Yesterdays gone, yesterdays gone.
Why not think about times to come,
And not about the things that you've done,
If your life was bad to you,
Just think what tomorrow will do.
Dont stop, thinking about tomorrow,
Dont stop, it'll soon be here,
It'll be, better than before,
Yesterdays gone, yesterdays gone.
All I want is to see you smile,
Even if it takes just a little while,
I know you don't believe that its true,
I never meant any harm to you.
Dont stop, thinking about tomorrow,
Dont stop, it'll soon be here,
It'll be, better than before,
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone.
Don't you look back,
Don't you look back..."
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Guilty Pleasures, etc.
For some, it's chocolate. Others, expensive clothing. Still others, BDSM. Everyone has 'em. Mine is a little thing called "The Soup."
Yes, readers, I love the show "The Soup" on E!. I know, it seems to run against my policy of finding the comings and goings of celebrities revolting and utterly petty, but I cannot help myself. The show--despite the fact that it discusses things that I abhor with every fiber of my being (and if you know me, that's a lot of fibers!)--is brilliantly zany and enthralling. Despite being a decidedly B- to C-list comedian, Joel McHale delivers silly and offbeat jokes with a kind of panache that makes them not only palatable, but enjoyable. Segments such as "Oprah's Va-jay-jay," "Let's Take Some E," and the "Kickass Clip of the Week" contain just the right mix of satire and bizarro celebrity behavior to divert one's attention from serious, worthwhile matters, if only for a brief, savory half hour.
~~~
In other news, I am about to shed my status as a "high school student," though that title in reference to me really deserves an asterisk (I have hardly behaved like a normal high school student, as you will soon see). In a brief eight days, I will cry like a little baby at Commencement, knowing that my days of sleeping on my cushy featherbed at home are numbered not in the hundreds, but in the dozens.
~~~
In still other news, I will be attending my first proper party the day after Commencement. I am both extremely excited and apprehensive about the experience. I am excited because I am eager to learn what such gatherings are like (I don't get out much, if you have not already caught on). I am quite apprehensive, however, because being the Class Dad, I have always stayed on the path of lawfulness and righteousness. I don't intend to become inebriated (I prefer to spend my evenings lucid), but I have a sneaking suspicion that some people are curious as to what an inebriated Gavrich would be like. I don't know if I want to know that myself. Ah well. It shall be interesting, regardless.
Tonights lyrical selection: "Streams of Whiskey," by The Pogues
"Last night as I slept
I dreamt I met with Behan
I shook him by the hand and we passed the time of day
When questioned on his views
On the crux of life's philosophies
He had but these few clear and simple words to say
I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
I have cursed, bled and sworn
Jumped bail and landed up in jail
Life has often tried to stretch me
But the rope always was slack
And now that Ive a pile
Ill go down to the chelsea
Ill walk in on my feet
But Ill leave there on my back
Because I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Oh the words that he spoke
Seemed the wisest of philosophies
There's nothing ever gained
By a wet thing called a tear
When the world is too dark
And I need the light inside of me
Ill walk into a bar
And drink fifteen pints of beer
I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Where streams of whiskey are flowing."
Yes, readers, I love the show "The Soup" on E!. I know, it seems to run against my policy of finding the comings and goings of celebrities revolting and utterly petty, but I cannot help myself. The show--despite the fact that it discusses things that I abhor with every fiber of my being (and if you know me, that's a lot of fibers!)--is brilliantly zany and enthralling. Despite being a decidedly B- to C-list comedian, Joel McHale delivers silly and offbeat jokes with a kind of panache that makes them not only palatable, but enjoyable. Segments such as "Oprah's Va-jay-jay," "Let's Take Some E," and the "Kickass Clip of the Week" contain just the right mix of satire and bizarro celebrity behavior to divert one's attention from serious, worthwhile matters, if only for a brief, savory half hour.
~~~
In other news, I am about to shed my status as a "high school student," though that title in reference to me really deserves an asterisk (I have hardly behaved like a normal high school student, as you will soon see). In a brief eight days, I will cry like a little baby at Commencement, knowing that my days of sleeping on my cushy featherbed at home are numbered not in the hundreds, but in the dozens.
~~~
In still other news, I will be attending my first proper party the day after Commencement. I am both extremely excited and apprehensive about the experience. I am excited because I am eager to learn what such gatherings are like (I don't get out much, if you have not already caught on). I am quite apprehensive, however, because being the Class Dad, I have always stayed on the path of lawfulness and righteousness. I don't intend to become inebriated (I prefer to spend my evenings lucid), but I have a sneaking suspicion that some people are curious as to what an inebriated Gavrich would be like. I don't know if I want to know that myself. Ah well. It shall be interesting, regardless.
Tonights lyrical selection: "Streams of Whiskey," by The Pogues
"Last night as I slept
I dreamt I met with Behan
I shook him by the hand and we passed the time of day
When questioned on his views
On the crux of life's philosophies
He had but these few clear and simple words to say
I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
I have cursed, bled and sworn
Jumped bail and landed up in jail
Life has often tried to stretch me
But the rope always was slack
And now that Ive a pile
Ill go down to the chelsea
Ill walk in on my feet
But Ill leave there on my back
Because I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Oh the words that he spoke
Seemed the wisest of philosophies
There's nothing ever gained
By a wet thing called a tear
When the world is too dark
And I need the light inside of me
Ill walk into a bar
And drink fifteen pints of beer
I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Where streams of whiskey are flowing
Where streams of whiskey are flowing."
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Score One For Justice!
Well my life is pretty boring at the moment, but Paris Hilton's isn't!
From fox.com:
"Psychiatrist: Paris Hilton 'Distraught' and 'Traumatized' Over Jail Sentence"
LOS ANGELES — Paris Hilton is "emotionally distraught and traumatized" over her 45-day jail sentence and isn't capable of testifying in a civil lawsuit against her, the socialite-reality TV star's psychiatrist said.
Dr. Charles Sophy has been seeing Hilton, 26, for the past eight months and has talked with her several times since her May 4 hearing for violating the terms of her probation in an alcohol-related reckless driving case, according to court papers.
Sophy said Hilton needs time to recover from the shock of receiving jail time before testifying in a civil case brought against her by actress and diamond heiress Zeta Graff.
Messages left with Hilton's spokesman and lawyer weren't immediately returned early Tuesday.
In court papers filed Monday, Sophy said Hilton is "distraught and traumatized as a consequence of the findings at the May 4 hearing ... and her fear of incarceration."
"At this point in time," he continued, "Ms. Hilton cannot effectively respond to examination as a witness or provide any significant input into her defense."
Graff filed a $10 million lawsuit against Hilton in 2005, claiming the reality TV star spread "vicious lies" about her. Hilton has denied that she was behind a report alleging Graff once tried to grab a necklace worth $4 million from her throat.
Superior Court Judge Linda K. Lefkowitz postponed the trial to August. It had been scheduled to begin this month.
Hilton and her pal Nicole Richie star on "The Simple Life," which throws them into everyday situations. After famously feuding and filming their parts separately last season, the celebutantes have reunited as camp counselors for the show's upcoming installment on the Comcast Corp.-operated E! network.
~~~~~~~~
From Gavrich's Brain:
I for one am ecstatic to see that for once, the rich and famous can't buy their way out of trouble. Boy, would I love to see the look on Paris' face when she meets her new roommates. Now that would be a reality show worth watching! It would be just the next edition of The Simple Life. Ah yes, I can see it now: "The Simple Life: In the Jailhouse Now"
Speaking of which, tonight's lyrical selection
"In The Jailhouse Now," written by Jimmie Rodgers (as performed by The Soggy Bottom Boys in "O Brother, Where Art Thou?"
"I had a friend named Ramblin' Bob,
Who used to steal, gamble and rob,
He thought he was the smartest guy in town.
But I found out last Monday,
That Bob got locked up Sunday,
They've got him in the jailhouse way down town.
He's in the jailhouse now, he's in the jailhouse now,
I told him once or twice, quit playin' cards and shootin' dice,
He's in the jailhouse now.
He played a game called poker pinochle with Dan Yoker,
But shooting dice was his greatest game,
Now he's downtown in jail nobody to go his bail.
The judge done said that he refused a fine,
He's in the jailhouse now, he's in the jailhouse now,
I told him once or twice, quit playin' cards and shootin' dice
He's in the jailhouse now.
I went out last Tuesday, met a gal named Susie,
Told her I was the swellest guy around.
We started to spend my money,
Then she started to call me honey,
We took in every cabaret in town.
We're in the jailhouse now,
We're in the jailhouse now,
I told the judge right to his face,
We didn't like to see this place,
We're in the jailhouse now."
From fox.com:
"Psychiatrist: Paris Hilton 'Distraught' and 'Traumatized' Over Jail Sentence"
LOS ANGELES — Paris Hilton is "emotionally distraught and traumatized" over her 45-day jail sentence and isn't capable of testifying in a civil lawsuit against her, the socialite-reality TV star's psychiatrist said.
Dr. Charles Sophy has been seeing Hilton, 26, for the past eight months and has talked with her several times since her May 4 hearing for violating the terms of her probation in an alcohol-related reckless driving case, according to court papers.
Sophy said Hilton needs time to recover from the shock of receiving jail time before testifying in a civil case brought against her by actress and diamond heiress Zeta Graff.
Messages left with Hilton's spokesman and lawyer weren't immediately returned early Tuesday.
In court papers filed Monday, Sophy said Hilton is "distraught and traumatized as a consequence of the findings at the May 4 hearing ... and her fear of incarceration."
"At this point in time," he continued, "Ms. Hilton cannot effectively respond to examination as a witness or provide any significant input into her defense."
Graff filed a $10 million lawsuit against Hilton in 2005, claiming the reality TV star spread "vicious lies" about her. Hilton has denied that she was behind a report alleging Graff once tried to grab a necklace worth $4 million from her throat.
Superior Court Judge Linda K. Lefkowitz postponed the trial to August. It had been scheduled to begin this month.
Hilton and her pal Nicole Richie star on "The Simple Life," which throws them into everyday situations. After famously feuding and filming their parts separately last season, the celebutantes have reunited as camp counselors for the show's upcoming installment on the Comcast Corp.-operated E! network.
~~~~~~~~
From Gavrich's Brain:
I for one am ecstatic to see that for once, the rich and famous can't buy their way out of trouble. Boy, would I love to see the look on Paris' face when she meets her new roommates. Now that would be a reality show worth watching! It would be just the next edition of The Simple Life. Ah yes, I can see it now: "The Simple Life: In the Jailhouse Now"
Speaking of which, tonight's lyrical selection
"In The Jailhouse Now," written by Jimmie Rodgers (as performed by The Soggy Bottom Boys in "O Brother, Where Art Thou?"
"I had a friend named Ramblin' Bob,
Who used to steal, gamble and rob,
He thought he was the smartest guy in town.
But I found out last Monday,
That Bob got locked up Sunday,
They've got him in the jailhouse way down town.
He's in the jailhouse now, he's in the jailhouse now,
I told him once or twice, quit playin' cards and shootin' dice,
He's in the jailhouse now.
He played a game called poker pinochle with Dan Yoker,
But shooting dice was his greatest game,
Now he's downtown in jail nobody to go his bail.
The judge done said that he refused a fine,
He's in the jailhouse now, he's in the jailhouse now,
I told him once or twice, quit playin' cards and shootin' dice
He's in the jailhouse now.
I went out last Tuesday, met a gal named Susie,
Told her I was the swellest guy around.
We started to spend my money,
Then she started to call me honey,
We took in every cabaret in town.
We're in the jailhouse now,
We're in the jailhouse now,
I told the judge right to his face,
We didn't like to see this place,
We're in the jailhouse now."
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Oh, The Irony!
I meant to opine about this incident when it was fresh in my mind, but due to my debilitating inability to be proactive in most anything, here it is, five days after the fact.
I am a pretty competitive person, which can be a problem when you're as generally athletically deficient as I am. Luckily, though, I am able to play golf with a decent amount of proficiency. So, ergo, I am a very competitive golfer.
Last Wednesday, my team had a match against three other teams. It was the most important match of the season to-date. Happily, I was able to piece together a very good round of even-par 70, which was good enough for a tie for the low individual score for the match. The other co-medalist shall remain nameless, but let's just say he was named after a Caesar. Anyway, upon finding out that my team had beaten his team (quite an upset), I was extremely happy, as anyone who could understand the gravity of such a victory would be. But evidently, I was a little too happy for this unnamed player, who very sternly said, "Have some f***ing class, Gavrich."
Now surely you see the irony of this. Why use the expletive in an effort to be more classy than another? It is a question I have mulled over at length, and am still at a loss to answer.
But wait, there's more irony!
I was later informed by a teammate that I have earned a nickname among the team to which the would-be Arbiter of Class belongs. My nickname: "Timothy Faggot." Thanks, guys. You're so classy; I wanna be just like you when I grow up...NOT!
Tonight's lyrical selection: "Poor Boy Down," by Mike + The Mechanics:
"He's a poor boy in his pocket
he's a poor boy in his shoes.
he's done his time
he's stood in line
that boy has paid his dues.
He ain't looking for a handout
he's just looking for a start
he don't hate anyone
he don't carry a gun
you can tell that kid is smart.
So you can't
REFRAIN: Keep that poor boy down,
You can't keep that poor boy down,
you can be unkind
you can rob him blind
but you can't keep that poor boy down.
(REFRAIN)
you can lie and cheat
you can chain his feet
but you can't keep that poor boy down.
And all down throught the ages
the kid's been treated rough
just take a look
in any history book
you can see that times were tough.
Now we move up to the nineties
up to the 21st
one day he'll stand
a full grown man
and be the same as all of us.
So you can't
(REFRAIN)
you can lock him up
you can break his cup
but you can't keep that poor boy down.
(REFRAIN)
You can fight and steal
you can drag your heels
but you can't keep that poor boy dow
(REFRAIN)
You can kick his ass
if the kid's got class
you can't keep that poor boy down.
(REFRAIN)
Let's stop the truck
go back and pick him up
you can't keep that poor boy down.
Let him go!"
I am a pretty competitive person, which can be a problem when you're as generally athletically deficient as I am. Luckily, though, I am able to play golf with a decent amount of proficiency. So, ergo, I am a very competitive golfer.
Last Wednesday, my team had a match against three other teams. It was the most important match of the season to-date. Happily, I was able to piece together a very good round of even-par 70, which was good enough for a tie for the low individual score for the match. The other co-medalist shall remain nameless, but let's just say he was named after a Caesar. Anyway, upon finding out that my team had beaten his team (quite an upset), I was extremely happy, as anyone who could understand the gravity of such a victory would be. But evidently, I was a little too happy for this unnamed player, who very sternly said, "Have some f***ing class, Gavrich."
Now surely you see the irony of this. Why use the expletive in an effort to be more classy than another? It is a question I have mulled over at length, and am still at a loss to answer.
But wait, there's more irony!
I was later informed by a teammate that I have earned a nickname among the team to which the would-be Arbiter of Class belongs. My nickname: "Timothy Faggot." Thanks, guys. You're so classy; I wanna be just like you when I grow up...NOT!
Tonight's lyrical selection: "Poor Boy Down," by Mike + The Mechanics:
"He's a poor boy in his pocket
he's a poor boy in his shoes.
he's done his time
he's stood in line
that boy has paid his dues.
He ain't looking for a handout
he's just looking for a start
he don't hate anyone
he don't carry a gun
you can tell that kid is smart.
So you can't
REFRAIN: Keep that poor boy down,
You can't keep that poor boy down,
you can be unkind
you can rob him blind
but you can't keep that poor boy down.
(REFRAIN)
you can lie and cheat
you can chain his feet
but you can't keep that poor boy down.
And all down throught the ages
the kid's been treated rough
just take a look
in any history book
you can see that times were tough.
Now we move up to the nineties
up to the 21st
one day he'll stand
a full grown man
and be the same as all of us.
So you can't
(REFRAIN)
you can lock him up
you can break his cup
but you can't keep that poor boy down.
(REFRAIN)
You can fight and steal
you can drag your heels
but you can't keep that poor boy dow
(REFRAIN)
You can kick his ass
if the kid's got class
you can't keep that poor boy down.
(REFRAIN)
Let's stop the truck
go back and pick him up
you can't keep that poor boy down.
Let him go!"
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Something Momentous
Well readers, it appears as though barring any monumental academic collapse or significant legal misadventure, I am headed to the mountains of Virginia and Washington & Lee University next year. I look eagerly forward to four more years spent in an idyllic setting among fellow intellectuals, learning, playing, relaxing, and "becoming my best self," as Big Freddy Nietzsche would say. That said, I am still apprehensive about a few things.
- LEAVING THE NEST: I tend to grow homesick after being apart from my family for a period of time. I suppose everyone does, but mixed in with the blissful hours I will spend among new friends and colleagues, there will be periods of loneliness mixed in. Such is college, and such is life.
- KEEPING UP: I have always had outside motivation for doing my work diligently and to the best of my abilities. I won't have many eyes looking over my shoulder, making sure I'm on task and on time. I would like to think that I will be able to grasp the reins of responsibility and use them effectively, but I am somewhat uncertain. It will be an interesting experience.
- LIVING IN HARMONY: I am fairly confident that for better or worse, the people with whom I will be living next year have never encountered someone quite like me. I will go to them (and they to me) with a clean slate. What sort of reputation will my initial actions create? Will I be able to control myself so that I don't irk people. These are questions with a range of answers--which will turn out to be correct?
- WOOING AND COOING: Will I finally have a breakthrough when it comes to girls/women, or will my shyness hinder me as profoundly as it has throughout my high school years? Will I meet someone who is compatible with me? Will I be seen as compatible? Desirable? Time will tell, I suppose.
Before tonight's lyrical selection, I would like to thank you "Phoebe," for your kind comment on my last post. If you see fit at any time to reveal yourself, I would be pleased to know who you are. But at the same time, I fully understand your desire to conceal your identity. Regardless, I extend my sincerest gratitude to you.
Tonight's selection: "Visions of Johanna," by Bob Dylan
"Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet?
We sit here stranded, though we're all doin' our best to deny it
And Louise holds a handful of rain, temptin' you to defy it
Lights flicker from the opposite loft
In this room the heat pipes just cough
The country music station plays soft
But there's nothing, really nothing to turn off
Just Louise and her lover so entwined
And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind.
In the empty lot where the ladies play blindman's bluff with the key chain
And the all-night girls they whisper of escapades out on the "D" train
We can hear the night watchman click his flashlight
Ask himself if it's him or them that's really insane
Louise, she's all right, she's just near
She's delicate and seems like the mirror
But she just makes it all too concise and too clear
That Johanna's not here
The ghost of 'lectricity howls in the bones of her face
Where these visions of Johanna have now taken my place.
Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously
He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously
And when bringing her name up
He speaks of a farewell kiss to me
He's sure got a lotta gall to be so useless and all
Muttering small talk at the wall while I'm in the hall
How can I explain?
Oh, it's so hard to get on
And these visions of Johanna, they kept me up past the dawn.
Inside the museums, Infinity goes up on trial
Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while
But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues
You can tell by the way she smiles
See the primitive wallflower freeze
When the jelly-faced women all sneeze
Hear the one with the mustache say, "Jeeze
I can't find my knees"
Oh, jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule
But these visions of Johanna, they make it all seem so cruel.
The peddler now speaks to the countess who's pretending to care for him
Sayin', "Name me someone that's not a parasite and I'll go out and say a prayer for him"
But like Louise always says
"Ya can't look at much, can ya man?"
As she, herself, prepares for him
And Madonna, she still has not showed
We see this empty cage now corrode
Where her cape of the stage once had flowed
The fiddler, he now steps to the road
He writes ev'rything's been returned which was owed
On the back of the fish truck that loads
While my conscience explodes
The harmonicas play the skeleton keys and the rain
And these visions of Johanna are now all that remain."
- LEAVING THE NEST: I tend to grow homesick after being apart from my family for a period of time. I suppose everyone does, but mixed in with the blissful hours I will spend among new friends and colleagues, there will be periods of loneliness mixed in. Such is college, and such is life.
- KEEPING UP: I have always had outside motivation for doing my work diligently and to the best of my abilities. I won't have many eyes looking over my shoulder, making sure I'm on task and on time. I would like to think that I will be able to grasp the reins of responsibility and use them effectively, but I am somewhat uncertain. It will be an interesting experience.
- LIVING IN HARMONY: I am fairly confident that for better or worse, the people with whom I will be living next year have never encountered someone quite like me. I will go to them (and they to me) with a clean slate. What sort of reputation will my initial actions create? Will I be able to control myself so that I don't irk people. These are questions with a range of answers--which will turn out to be correct?
- WOOING AND COOING: Will I finally have a breakthrough when it comes to girls/women, or will my shyness hinder me as profoundly as it has throughout my high school years? Will I meet someone who is compatible with me? Will I be seen as compatible? Desirable? Time will tell, I suppose.
Before tonight's lyrical selection, I would like to thank you "Phoebe," for your kind comment on my last post. If you see fit at any time to reveal yourself, I would be pleased to know who you are. But at the same time, I fully understand your desire to conceal your identity. Regardless, I extend my sincerest gratitude to you.
Tonight's selection: "Visions of Johanna," by Bob Dylan
"Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet?
We sit here stranded, though we're all doin' our best to deny it
And Louise holds a handful of rain, temptin' you to defy it
Lights flicker from the opposite loft
In this room the heat pipes just cough
The country music station plays soft
But there's nothing, really nothing to turn off
Just Louise and her lover so entwined
And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind.
In the empty lot where the ladies play blindman's bluff with the key chain
And the all-night girls they whisper of escapades out on the "D" train
We can hear the night watchman click his flashlight
Ask himself if it's him or them that's really insane
Louise, she's all right, she's just near
She's delicate and seems like the mirror
But she just makes it all too concise and too clear
That Johanna's not here
The ghost of 'lectricity howls in the bones of her face
Where these visions of Johanna have now taken my place.
Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously
He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously
And when bringing her name up
He speaks of a farewell kiss to me
He's sure got a lotta gall to be so useless and all
Muttering small talk at the wall while I'm in the hall
How can I explain?
Oh, it's so hard to get on
And these visions of Johanna, they kept me up past the dawn.
Inside the museums, Infinity goes up on trial
Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while
But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues
You can tell by the way she smiles
See the primitive wallflower freeze
When the jelly-faced women all sneeze
Hear the one with the mustache say, "Jeeze
I can't find my knees"
Oh, jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule
But these visions of Johanna, they make it all seem so cruel.
The peddler now speaks to the countess who's pretending to care for him
Sayin', "Name me someone that's not a parasite and I'll go out and say a prayer for him"
But like Louise always says
"Ya can't look at much, can ya man?"
As she, herself, prepares for him
And Madonna, she still has not showed
We see this empty cage now corrode
Where her cape of the stage once had flowed
The fiddler, he now steps to the road
He writes ev'rything's been returned which was owed
On the back of the fish truck that loads
While my conscience explodes
The harmonicas play the skeleton keys and the rain
And these visions of Johanna are now all that remain."
Sunday, April 22, 2007
In a Rut
Some melancholy musings:
Do not be alarmed by the negative tone of the following. On the average, I'm positively giddy with life, but everyone has their ups and downs, and I'm feeling a bit of a down tonight.
Dear Readers, Friends, and Casual Acquaintances--
- I'm just beginning to realize just how much of a nuisance I really am. When talking to people, I always have positive intentions, but I always come off sounding preachy and just plain annoying. If I am trying to give advice (which probably is bad advice anyway), I tend to unwittingly adopt a scolding tone. I try to help it, but cannot.
- I apologize for my incessant talking; I always try to have a point, but oddly enough, I rarely do.
- I am probably the biggest wuss I know. I take almost no meaningful risks in my life. Therefore, I get left in the dust, so to speak. And when you're neither cool nor charismatic, it's hard to catch up.
- It's kind of pathetic to be such an easy target. Eccentric, annoying, (seemingly) dull: I seem to hit the trifecta in the eyes of many people.
- I was called "The Walking Encyclopedia" in the 2nd grade, and ever since, I feel as though people treat me as such--an inanimate object that people go to when they need an answer, whose purpose is served after the answer is given. What am I? A book or a person?
- Do you ever feel like you're destined to ultimately fall short of your objectives, be they personal, social, or intellectual? If not, I salute you.
Sorry for the rant. I don't mean this to be a lashing-out against everybody with whom I am acquainted. Please understand that I only feel this way very occasionally, and about a very few people. In general, I love humankind endlessly. But I find myself frustrated from time to time.
Tonight's lyrical selection is spot-on for my general mood: (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction, by The Rolling Stones:
"I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction
'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try
I can't get no, I can't get no
When I'm drivin' in my car, and the man come on the radio
He's tellin' me more and more about some useless information
Supposed to fire my imagination
I can't get no. Oh, no, no, no. Hey, hey, hey
That's what I say
I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction
'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try
I can't get no, I can't get no
When I'm watchin' my TV and a man comes on and tell me
How white my shirts can be
But, he can't be a man 'cause he doesn't smoke
The same cigarettes as me
I can't get no. Oh, no, no, no. Hey, hey, hey
That's what I say
I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction
'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try
I can't get no, I can't get no
When I'm ridin' round the world, and I'm doin' this and I'm signin' that
And I'm tryin' to make some girl, who tells me
Baby, better come back maybe next week
'Cause you see I'm on a losing streak
I can't get no. Oh, no, no, no. Hey, hey, hey
That's what I say. I can't get no, I can't get no
I can't get no satisfaction, no satisfaction
No satisfaction, no satisfaction"
Do not be alarmed by the negative tone of the following. On the average, I'm positively giddy with life, but everyone has their ups and downs, and I'm feeling a bit of a down tonight.
Dear Readers, Friends, and Casual Acquaintances--
- I'm just beginning to realize just how much of a nuisance I really am. When talking to people, I always have positive intentions, but I always come off sounding preachy and just plain annoying. If I am trying to give advice (which probably is bad advice anyway), I tend to unwittingly adopt a scolding tone. I try to help it, but cannot.
- I apologize for my incessant talking; I always try to have a point, but oddly enough, I rarely do.
- I am probably the biggest wuss I know. I take almost no meaningful risks in my life. Therefore, I get left in the dust, so to speak. And when you're neither cool nor charismatic, it's hard to catch up.
- It's kind of pathetic to be such an easy target. Eccentric, annoying, (seemingly) dull: I seem to hit the trifecta in the eyes of many people.
- I was called "The Walking Encyclopedia" in the 2nd grade, and ever since, I feel as though people treat me as such--an inanimate object that people go to when they need an answer, whose purpose is served after the answer is given. What am I? A book or a person?
- Do you ever feel like you're destined to ultimately fall short of your objectives, be they personal, social, or intellectual? If not, I salute you.
Sorry for the rant. I don't mean this to be a lashing-out against everybody with whom I am acquainted. Please understand that I only feel this way very occasionally, and about a very few people. In general, I love humankind endlessly. But I find myself frustrated from time to time.
Tonight's lyrical selection is spot-on for my general mood: (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction, by The Rolling Stones:
"I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction
'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try
I can't get no, I can't get no
When I'm drivin' in my car, and the man come on the radio
He's tellin' me more and more about some useless information
Supposed to fire my imagination
I can't get no. Oh, no, no, no. Hey, hey, hey
That's what I say
I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction
'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try
I can't get no, I can't get no
When I'm watchin' my TV and a man comes on and tell me
How white my shirts can be
But, he can't be a man 'cause he doesn't smoke
The same cigarettes as me
I can't get no. Oh, no, no, no. Hey, hey, hey
That's what I say
I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction
'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try
I can't get no, I can't get no
When I'm ridin' round the world, and I'm doin' this and I'm signin' that
And I'm tryin' to make some girl, who tells me
Baby, better come back maybe next week
'Cause you see I'm on a losing streak
I can't get no. Oh, no, no, no. Hey, hey, hey
That's what I say. I can't get no, I can't get no
I can't get no satisfaction, no satisfaction
No satisfaction, no satisfaction"
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Sunday Evening Musings
I have a little Dashboard Widget (Apple-talk for a small computer window in the Tiger operating system) that gives me the "Fact of the Day." I was particularly amused by today's offering:
"An old folk custom for selecting a husband from several suitors involved taking onions and writing each suitor's name individually on each. Then all the onions were put in a cool dark storeroom. The first onion to grow sprouts would determine which man the undecided maiden should marry."
Wouldn't that make things a lot easier? Combine this with the prohibition of divorce and I believe we'd solve overpopulations in underdeveloped countries in the course of a generation!
But seriously, allow me to opine on the mystery of the Heart (capital "H," rather than the physicall lower-case "h" heart). I believe that one reason for all the heartbreak out there is that people tend to use the word "love" far too liberally. In essence it has lost its meaning. People falsely say "I love you" to each other all the time. I occasionally hear "I love you Tim" as a response to one of my quirkily charming antics, but often feel bad in being hesitant to return the exclamation in kind, because I feel it is a betrayal of the serious meaning of the word.
I hope the above does not make me seem like an emotionless blob of hair, skin (the occasional zit), blood, and water (among other substances), because nothing could be further from the truth. I fancy myself--to steal a phrase from my Philosophy teacher--a "sensitive male for the 21st century." I feel infatuations toward girls (though my cautiousness in interactions with the 'Fairer Sex' calls this into question from the perspective of some insensitive peers, but that's a subject for another post), but I do not throw around the word "love" when it is not warranted.
Tonight's selection: "Mr. Blue Sky," by Electric Light Orchestra
"Sun is shinin' in the sky
There ain't a cloud in sight
It's stopped rainin' ev'rybody's in a play
And don't you know
It's a beautiful new day hey,hey
Runnin' down the avenue
See how the sun shines brightly in the city
On the streets where once was pity
Mister blue sky is living here today hey, hey
Mister blue sky please tell us why
You had to hide away for so long
Where did we go wrong?
Hey you with the pretty face
Welcome to the human race
A celebration, mister blue sky's up there waitin'
And today is the day we've waited for
Hey there mister blue
We're so pleased to be with you
Look around see what you do
Ev'rybody smiles at you
Mister blue sky, mister blue sky
Mister blue sky
Mister blue, you did it right
But soon comes mister night creepin' over
Now his hand is on your shoulder
Never mind I'll remember you this
I'll remember you this way
Mister blue sky please tell us why
You had to hide away for so long
Where did we go wrong?
Hey there mister blue
We're so pleased to be with you
Look around see what you do
Ev'rybody smiles at you..."
"An old folk custom for selecting a husband from several suitors involved taking onions and writing each suitor's name individually on each. Then all the onions were put in a cool dark storeroom. The first onion to grow sprouts would determine which man the undecided maiden should marry."
Wouldn't that make things a lot easier? Combine this with the prohibition of divorce and I believe we'd solve overpopulations in underdeveloped countries in the course of a generation!
But seriously, allow me to opine on the mystery of the Heart (capital "H," rather than the physicall lower-case "h" heart). I believe that one reason for all the heartbreak out there is that people tend to use the word "love" far too liberally. In essence it has lost its meaning. People falsely say "I love you" to each other all the time. I occasionally hear "I love you Tim" as a response to one of my quirkily charming antics, but often feel bad in being hesitant to return the exclamation in kind, because I feel it is a betrayal of the serious meaning of the word.
I hope the above does not make me seem like an emotionless blob of hair, skin (the occasional zit), blood, and water (among other substances), because nothing could be further from the truth. I fancy myself--to steal a phrase from my Philosophy teacher--a "sensitive male for the 21st century." I feel infatuations toward girls (though my cautiousness in interactions with the 'Fairer Sex' calls this into question from the perspective of some insensitive peers, but that's a subject for another post), but I do not throw around the word "love" when it is not warranted.
Tonight's selection: "Mr. Blue Sky," by Electric Light Orchestra
"Sun is shinin' in the sky
There ain't a cloud in sight
It's stopped rainin' ev'rybody's in a play
And don't you know
It's a beautiful new day hey,hey
Runnin' down the avenue
See how the sun shines brightly in the city
On the streets where once was pity
Mister blue sky is living here today hey, hey
Mister blue sky please tell us why
You had to hide away for so long
Where did we go wrong?
Hey you with the pretty face
Welcome to the human race
A celebration, mister blue sky's up there waitin'
And today is the day we've waited for
Hey there mister blue
We're so pleased to be with you
Look around see what you do
Ev'rybody smiles at you
Mister blue sky, mister blue sky
Mister blue sky
Mister blue, you did it right
But soon comes mister night creepin' over
Now his hand is on your shoulder
Never mind I'll remember you this
I'll remember you this way
Mister blue sky please tell us why
You had to hide away for so long
Where did we go wrong?
Hey there mister blue
We're so pleased to be with you
Look around see what you do
Ev'rybody smiles at you..."
Friday, April 06, 2007
Yet Another Example of Man's Idiocy
So I'm at the supermarket with my mother the other day (it probably seems pathetic that I visit the supermarket with my mother at the age of 17, but I am what I am, and if that's a dork, then a dork I am) and the manned chackout lines are crowded. Not wanting to wait and eager to explore a suburban novelty, we head for the "automatic checkout station," a scan-it-yourself-bag-it-yourself area that is yet another way for businesses to stroke their greedy egos by eliminating jobs and salaries and replacing competent people with cold machinery.
After 15 minutes of struggling to scan items "just-so," and a request for assistance from a store worker (it is most ironic that we needed a person in order to help us use the machine properly), I was nearly ready to plant my foot in the screen, despite the slightly seductive (though nonetheless robotic) female voice within the apparatus. A little fair warning to those who know me: I may well have a psychotic break if I hear the phrase, "Two dollars and sixty-nine cents" chanted out of rhythm within the next week. Having to hear it a dozen times in excruciatingly fast succession is a punishment seemingly fit only for the most dastardly criminals.
Anyway, the moral of this story, dear readers, is that automated grocery checkout methods are to be avoided like the plague. That is, unless you don't mind frightening your fellow shoppers by screaming at the computer, "You stupid woman! I didn't remove any item from the bagging area! I will kill your children the next time you talk back to me!" I don't recommend it, but hey, we're all different, right?
Tomight's lyrics: "Lazy Flies," by Beck (yes, even the Teenage Old Fart himself listens to a little modern music now and again):
"Lazy flies all hovering above
The magistrate, he puts on his gloves
And he looks to the clouds
All pink and disheveled
There must be some blueprints,
Some creed of the devil
Inscribed in our minds.
A hideous game
Vanishes in thin air
The vanity of slaves
Who wants to be there?
To sweep the debris
To harness dead-horses
To ride in the sun
A life of confessions
Written in the dust.
Out in the mangroves
The mynah birds cry
In the shadows of sulfur
The trawlers drift by
They're chewing dried meat
in a House of disrepute
The dust of opiates
And syphilis patients
On brochure vacations
Fear has a glare that
Traps you like searchlights
The puritans stare
Their souls are fluorescent
The skin of a robot
Vibrates with pleasure
Matrons and gigolos
Carouse in the parlor
Their hand-grenade eyes
Impotent and blind.
A hideous stain
Vanishes in thin air
The vanity of slaves
Who wants to be there
To sweep the debris?
To harness dead-horses
To ride in the sun
A life of confessions
Written in the dust."
After 15 minutes of struggling to scan items "just-so," and a request for assistance from a store worker (it is most ironic that we needed a person in order to help us use the machine properly), I was nearly ready to plant my foot in the screen, despite the slightly seductive (though nonetheless robotic) female voice within the apparatus. A little fair warning to those who know me: I may well have a psychotic break if I hear the phrase, "Two dollars and sixty-nine cents" chanted out of rhythm within the next week. Having to hear it a dozen times in excruciatingly fast succession is a punishment seemingly fit only for the most dastardly criminals.
Anyway, the moral of this story, dear readers, is that automated grocery checkout methods are to be avoided like the plague. That is, unless you don't mind frightening your fellow shoppers by screaming at the computer, "You stupid woman! I didn't remove any item from the bagging area! I will kill your children the next time you talk back to me!" I don't recommend it, but hey, we're all different, right?
Tomight's lyrics: "Lazy Flies," by Beck (yes, even the Teenage Old Fart himself listens to a little modern music now and again):
"Lazy flies all hovering above
The magistrate, he puts on his gloves
And he looks to the clouds
All pink and disheveled
There must be some blueprints,
Some creed of the devil
Inscribed in our minds.
A hideous game
Vanishes in thin air
The vanity of slaves
Who wants to be there?
To sweep the debris
To harness dead-horses
To ride in the sun
A life of confessions
Written in the dust.
Out in the mangroves
The mynah birds cry
In the shadows of sulfur
The trawlers drift by
They're chewing dried meat
in a House of disrepute
The dust of opiates
And syphilis patients
On brochure vacations
Fear has a glare that
Traps you like searchlights
The puritans stare
Their souls are fluorescent
The skin of a robot
Vibrates with pleasure
Matrons and gigolos
Carouse in the parlor
Their hand-grenade eyes
Impotent and blind.
A hideous stain
Vanishes in thin air
The vanity of slaves
Who wants to be there
To sweep the debris?
To harness dead-horses
To ride in the sun
A life of confessions
Written in the dust."
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
The Torments Never Cease
So I missed school yesterday to visit a college in Pennsylvania. My mother and I went to visit (and eat dinner with) her cousin's family on the way to the hotel near the college. The visit wasn't awesome, so we decided to leave early. On the way home, we stopped for an ice cream at a nearby Carvel (a combination Cinnabon-Carvel, in fact). While enjoying my Brown Bonnet, a bit of ice cream entered the wrong pipe, and I broke out into a fit of vigorous coughing.
Apologies for the lengthy setup. Anyway, as I am coughing like an old smoker beset with emphysema, a little boy of three years of age (also getting an ice cream cone with his mother) begins to mock me by staring me down and fake-coughing in an effort to annoy me. Though there was a certain level of cuteness to this small child's behavior, he was nonetheless poking fun at me. It's like the people with whom I interact daily hire people to follow me around and torment me. Yes, I acknowledge that I'm horribly annoying, but please people, call off the toddlers!
Sorry. That wasn't a very good story. I'll make it up to you with an ironic lyrical selection.
"Baby I'm A Star," by Prince (presented with The Artist's alternate spellings of common words)
"Hey, look me over
Tell me do u like what u see?
Hey, I ain't got no money
But honey I'm rich on personality
Hey, check it all out
Baby I know what it's all about
Before the night is through
U will see my point of view
Even if I have 2 scream and shout
Baby I'm a (star)
Might not know it now
Baby but I r, I'm a (star)
I don't want to stop, 'til I reach the top
Sing it (We are all a star!)
Hey, take a listen
Tell me do u like what u hear?
If it don't turn u on
Just say the word and I'm gone
But honey I know, ain't nothing
Wrong with your ears
Hey, check it all out
Better look now or it just might be 2 late (just might be 2 late)
My lucks gonna change tonight
There's gotta be a better life
Take a picture sweetie
I ain't got time 2 waste
Oh baby I'm a (star)
Might not know it now
Baby but I r, I'm a (star)
I don't want to stop, 'til I reach the top
Sing it! (We are all a star!)
Everybody say, nothing come 2 easy
But when u got it baby, nothing come 2 hard
You'll see what I'm all about (see what I'm all about)
If I gotta scream and shout (if I gotta scream and shout)
Baby baby (baby) baby (baby) baby (baby)
yeah
yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah (star)..."
Apologies for the lengthy setup. Anyway, as I am coughing like an old smoker beset with emphysema, a little boy of three years of age (also getting an ice cream cone with his mother) begins to mock me by staring me down and fake-coughing in an effort to annoy me. Though there was a certain level of cuteness to this small child's behavior, he was nonetheless poking fun at me. It's like the people with whom I interact daily hire people to follow me around and torment me. Yes, I acknowledge that I'm horribly annoying, but please people, call off the toddlers!
Sorry. That wasn't a very good story. I'll make it up to you with an ironic lyrical selection.
"Baby I'm A Star," by Prince (presented with The Artist's alternate spellings of common words)
"Hey, look me over
Tell me do u like what u see?
Hey, I ain't got no money
But honey I'm rich on personality
Hey, check it all out
Baby I know what it's all about
Before the night is through
U will see my point of view
Even if I have 2 scream and shout
Baby I'm a (star)
Might not know it now
Baby but I r, I'm a (star)
I don't want to stop, 'til I reach the top
Sing it (We are all a star!)
Hey, take a listen
Tell me do u like what u hear?
If it don't turn u on
Just say the word and I'm gone
But honey I know, ain't nothing
Wrong with your ears
Hey, check it all out
Better look now or it just might be 2 late (just might be 2 late)
My lucks gonna change tonight
There's gotta be a better life
Take a picture sweetie
I ain't got time 2 waste
Oh baby I'm a (star)
Might not know it now
Baby but I r, I'm a (star)
I don't want to stop, 'til I reach the top
Sing it! (We are all a star!)
Everybody say, nothing come 2 easy
But when u got it baby, nothing come 2 hard
You'll see what I'm all about (see what I'm all about)
If I gotta scream and shout (if I gotta scream and shout)
Baby baby (baby) baby (baby) baby (baby)
yeah
yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah (star)..."
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Gavrich Gets Lucky!
Yes, gang, the title says it all. On this day, the Feast of St. Patrick, I had a wee bit of the old Irish luck.
I briefly achieved the apex, the holy-of-holies in golf this afternoon, a hole in one. It wasn't the mightiest stroke (a paltry swipe of roughly 125 yards, more like), but it was true as true can be. I watched the ball take a little bounce, and then mosey on into the hole from the left side. My reaction was one of stunned amazement, rather than one of unbridled joy. Luckily for the inhabitants of the nearby houses, I did not scream, shout, yell, or even holler at my achievement. But don't get me wrong, it was a pretty cool feeling nonetheless. The best part was that I didn't even have to buy drinks for anybody (as is the typical protocol). Add to that a nice dinner at a nice restaurant, and I must say that I had a pretty decent day. I'd better not risk spoiling the ol' mojo (yes, even squares such as myself can capture this elusive intangible at times) by doing anything but moseying off to bed.
Good night; I apologize for not having too much in the way of sage advice, but sometimes one feels like sharing one's fortune. Fear not, dear readers, I have a little something-something in the works for the near future. Do stay tuned.
Thank you, nothing lyrical this evening (go find some Uileann Pipes or something, perhaps).
I briefly achieved the apex, the holy-of-holies in golf this afternoon, a hole in one. It wasn't the mightiest stroke (a paltry swipe of roughly 125 yards, more like), but it was true as true can be. I watched the ball take a little bounce, and then mosey on into the hole from the left side. My reaction was one of stunned amazement, rather than one of unbridled joy. Luckily for the inhabitants of the nearby houses, I did not scream, shout, yell, or even holler at my achievement. But don't get me wrong, it was a pretty cool feeling nonetheless. The best part was that I didn't even have to buy drinks for anybody (as is the typical protocol). Add to that a nice dinner at a nice restaurant, and I must say that I had a pretty decent day. I'd better not risk spoiling the ol' mojo (yes, even squares such as myself can capture this elusive intangible at times) by doing anything but moseying off to bed.
Good night; I apologize for not having too much in the way of sage advice, but sometimes one feels like sharing one's fortune. Fear not, dear readers, I have a little something-something in the works for the near future. Do stay tuned.
Thank you, nothing lyrical this evening (go find some Uileann Pipes or something, perhaps).
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
How Wiggly is Your Piggly?
Piggly Wiggly is much like any other supermarket chain, but for the fact that it has a funny name and emblem (a jolly pig with a hungry-yet-ecstatic expreession on its face). Anyway, it's a Southern institution, and I was there earlier this evening. Based on my observations there, dear readers, I have a little quiz for y'all.
What do the following words have in common?
ALL, BOLD, CHEER, DREFT, FAB, GAIN, TIDE, TREND, WISK, YES
Give up?
These words are all brand names. Terse, monosyllabic brand names--for laundry detergents. This phenomenon is fascinating to me because it only seems to occur in laundry detergents. Why do companies feel it's so important to pull in new buyers with these names? Are we so scatterbrained that the only way to catch our attention is with these brief, often-non-sensical names? I have no concrete theories as of now, but if you have thoughts on this strange occurrence, kindly leave a comment.
"I Get A Kick Out Of You," written by Cole Porter
"My story is much too sad to be told,
But practically evrything leaves me totally cold.
The only exception I know is the case
Where Im out on a quiet spree
Fighting vainly the old ennui
And I suddenly turn and see
Your fabulous face.
I get no kick from champagne.
Mere alcohol doesnt thrill me at all,
So tell me why should it be true
That I get a kick out of you?
Some get a kick from cocaine.
Im sure that if I took even one sniff
That would bore me terrificly too,
Yet I get a kick out of you.
I get a kick evrytime I see
Youre standing there before me.
I get a kick though its clear to me
You obviously dont adore me.
I get no kick in a plane.
Flying too high with some gal in the sky
Is my idea of nothing to do,
Yet I get a kick out of you."
What do the following words have in common?
ALL, BOLD, CHEER, DREFT, FAB, GAIN, TIDE, TREND, WISK, YES
Give up?
These words are all brand names. Terse, monosyllabic brand names--for laundry detergents. This phenomenon is fascinating to me because it only seems to occur in laundry detergents. Why do companies feel it's so important to pull in new buyers with these names? Are we so scatterbrained that the only way to catch our attention is with these brief, often-non-sensical names? I have no concrete theories as of now, but if you have thoughts on this strange occurrence, kindly leave a comment.
"I Get A Kick Out Of You," written by Cole Porter
"My story is much too sad to be told,
But practically evrything leaves me totally cold.
The only exception I know is the case
Where Im out on a quiet spree
Fighting vainly the old ennui
And I suddenly turn and see
Your fabulous face.
I get no kick from champagne.
Mere alcohol doesnt thrill me at all,
So tell me why should it be true
That I get a kick out of you?
Some get a kick from cocaine.
Im sure that if I took even one sniff
That would bore me terrificly too,
Yet I get a kick out of you.
I get a kick evrytime I see
Youre standing there before me.
I get a kick though its clear to me
You obviously dont adore me.
I get no kick in a plane.
Flying too high with some gal in the sky
Is my idea of nothing to do,
Yet I get a kick out of you."
Monday, March 05, 2007
Oh the Irony! or Only in the South!
I am elated as I write this, sitting in the kitchen of my family's condo in South Carolina. My mother, sister, and I made the !14 hour journey all today, having left Connecticut at 8 AM.
About five miles outside of the town of Dunn, North Carolina, along I-95 South, is perhaps the greatest pair of billboards in all of billboard-dom. They are not witty, and not terribly noteworthy by themselves, but their synergy is incredible. They are on opposite sides of the freeway, and are read in quick succession.
BILLBOARD ON THE LEFT: A blue background, with white lettering, and the text, "Jesus is Lord, have you accepted Him into your life?"
BILLBOARD ON THE RIGHT: A black background, with magenta lettering, all in caps, and the text, "Café Risqué! 24 Hour Topless Bar! XXX Videos and Toys! Food n' Fun!"
I believe I need not elaborate any further.
Tonight's lyrical selection: "Closing Time," by Leonard Cohen
"Ah we're drinking and we're dancing and the band is really happening
and the Johnny Walker wisdom running high.
And my very sweet companion she's the Angel of Compassion
she's rubbing half the world against her thigh.
And every drinker every dancer lifts a happy face to thank her
the fiddler fiddles something so sublime.
All the women tear their blouses off and the men they dance on the polka-dots
and it's partner found, it's partner lost and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops:
it's CLOSING TIME
Yeah the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
and it's partner found, it's partner lost
and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops:
it's CLOSING TIME
Ah we're lonely, we're romantic and the cider's laced with acid
and the Holy Spirit's crying, "Where's the beef?"
And the moon is swimming naked and the summer night is fragrant
with a mighty expectation of relief.
So we struggle and we stagger down the snakes and up the ladder
to the tower where the blessed hours chime.
and I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
the Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
but CLOSING TIME
I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
the Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
CLOSING TIME
I loved you for your beauty but that doesn't make a fool of me:
you were in it for your beauty too.
And I loved you for your body there's a voice that sounds like God to me
declaring, declaring, declaring that your body's really you.
And I loved you when our love was blessed and I love you now there's nothing left
but sorrow and a sense of overtime.
And I missed you since the place got wrecked
and I just don't care what happens next
looks like freedom but it feels like death
it's something in between, I guess
it's CLOSING TIME
Yeah I missed you since the place got wrecked
By the winds of change and the weeds of sex.
Looks like freedom but it feels like death
it's something in between, I guess
it's CLOSING TIME
Yeah we're drinking and we're dancing but there's nothing really happening
and the place is dead as Heaven on a Saturday night.
And my very close companion gets me fumbling gets me laughing
she's a hundred but she's wearing something tight.
And I lift my glass to the Awful Truth which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth
except to say it isn't worth a dime.
And the whole damn place goes crazy twice
and it's once for the devil and once for Christ
but the Boss don't like these dizzy heights
we're busted in the blinding lights,
busted in the blinding lights
of CLOSING TIME
The whole damn place goes crazy twice
and it's once for the devil and once for Christ
but the Boss don't like these dizzy heights
we're busted in the blinding lights,
busted in the blinding lights
of CLOSING TIME
Oh the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
It's CLOSING TIME
And it's partner found, it's partner lost
and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops
It's CLOSING TIME
I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
It's CLOSING TIME
The Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
But CLOSING TIME
I loved you when our love was blessed
I love you now there's nothing left
But CLOSING TIME
About five miles outside of the town of Dunn, North Carolina, along I-95 South, is perhaps the greatest pair of billboards in all of billboard-dom. They are not witty, and not terribly noteworthy by themselves, but their synergy is incredible. They are on opposite sides of the freeway, and are read in quick succession.
BILLBOARD ON THE LEFT: A blue background, with white lettering, and the text, "Jesus is Lord, have you accepted Him into your life?"
BILLBOARD ON THE RIGHT: A black background, with magenta lettering, all in caps, and the text, "Café Risqué! 24 Hour Topless Bar! XXX Videos and Toys! Food n' Fun!"
I believe I need not elaborate any further.
Tonight's lyrical selection: "Closing Time," by Leonard Cohen
"Ah we're drinking and we're dancing and the band is really happening
and the Johnny Walker wisdom running high.
And my very sweet companion she's the Angel of Compassion
she's rubbing half the world against her thigh.
And every drinker every dancer lifts a happy face to thank her
the fiddler fiddles something so sublime.
All the women tear their blouses off and the men they dance on the polka-dots
and it's partner found, it's partner lost and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops:
it's CLOSING TIME
Yeah the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
and it's partner found, it's partner lost
and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops:
it's CLOSING TIME
Ah we're lonely, we're romantic and the cider's laced with acid
and the Holy Spirit's crying, "Where's the beef?"
And the moon is swimming naked and the summer night is fragrant
with a mighty expectation of relief.
So we struggle and we stagger down the snakes and up the ladder
to the tower where the blessed hours chime.
and I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
the Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
but CLOSING TIME
I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
the Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
CLOSING TIME
I loved you for your beauty but that doesn't make a fool of me:
you were in it for your beauty too.
And I loved you for your body there's a voice that sounds like God to me
declaring, declaring, declaring that your body's really you.
And I loved you when our love was blessed and I love you now there's nothing left
but sorrow and a sense of overtime.
And I missed you since the place got wrecked
and I just don't care what happens next
looks like freedom but it feels like death
it's something in between, I guess
it's CLOSING TIME
Yeah I missed you since the place got wrecked
By the winds of change and the weeds of sex.
Looks like freedom but it feels like death
it's something in between, I guess
it's CLOSING TIME
Yeah we're drinking and we're dancing but there's nothing really happening
and the place is dead as Heaven on a Saturday night.
And my very close companion gets me fumbling gets me laughing
she's a hundred but she's wearing something tight.
And I lift my glass to the Awful Truth which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth
except to say it isn't worth a dime.
And the whole damn place goes crazy twice
and it's once for the devil and once for Christ
but the Boss don't like these dizzy heights
we're busted in the blinding lights,
busted in the blinding lights
of CLOSING TIME
The whole damn place goes crazy twice
and it's once for the devil and once for Christ
but the Boss don't like these dizzy heights
we're busted in the blinding lights,
busted in the blinding lights
of CLOSING TIME
Oh the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
It's CLOSING TIME
And it's partner found, it's partner lost
and it's hell to pay when the fiddler stops
It's CLOSING TIME
I swear it happened just like this:
a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss
It's CLOSING TIME
The Gates of Love they budged an inch
I can't say much has happened since
But CLOSING TIME
I loved you when our love was blessed
I love you now there's nothing left
But CLOSING TIME
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Yikes!
I just turned on the television to the end of an episode of the show "COPS!" A 70-odd year old woman was speaking angrily with two police officers as her ~12 year old grandson--slumped in a chair, stroking a gray cat. This boy has been disrespectful to the point that the grandmother wants the police to quote "give his ass a good whippin," but must settle for the assurance from one of the cops that she has the right to do that herself.
The events of the episode are no what warrants the title of this post, but the fact that I recognized the episode tells me that I might be watching too much TV. I also noticed that there wasn't anything interesting on TV this evening, and yet I'm still watching. It just goes to show how TV runs our lives, at least in our free time. Ah well--I know I'll really be in trouble when I have to resort to watching "I Love New York" on VH1, but hopefully I'll have beaten myself unconscious out of boredom before that happens.
Pink Floyd, "Brain Damage"
"The lunatic is on the grass
The lunatic is on the grass
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs
Got to keep the loonies on the path
The lunatic is in the hall
The lunatics are in my hall
The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
And every day the paper boy brings more
And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forbodings too
Ill see you on the dark side of the moon
The lunatic is in my head
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me till Im sane
You lock the door
And throw away the key
Theres someone in my head but its not me.
And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear
And if the band youre in starts playing different tunes
Ill see you on the dark side of the moon"
The events of the episode are no what warrants the title of this post, but the fact that I recognized the episode tells me that I might be watching too much TV. I also noticed that there wasn't anything interesting on TV this evening, and yet I'm still watching. It just goes to show how TV runs our lives, at least in our free time. Ah well--I know I'll really be in trouble when I have to resort to watching "I Love New York" on VH1, but hopefully I'll have beaten myself unconscious out of boredom before that happens.
Pink Floyd, "Brain Damage"
"The lunatic is on the grass
The lunatic is on the grass
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs
Got to keep the loonies on the path
The lunatic is in the hall
The lunatics are in my hall
The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
And every day the paper boy brings more
And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forbodings too
Ill see you on the dark side of the moon
The lunatic is in my head
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me till Im sane
You lock the door
And throw away the key
Theres someone in my head but its not me.
And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear
And if the band youre in starts playing different tunes
Ill see you on the dark side of the moon"
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Deep Disappointment
Be warned: this is a pretty long rant. But I believe it will be worth your time to read it. I will be very grateful if you choose to take a few minutes and hear me out.
I hate to say it, but people never cease to disappoint me. Not everyone, mind you, but I see more and more every day.
I know it might sound childish, but I have a bit of a beef with the pre-school system. It seems that many teachers (and parents, in some cases) have neglected to teach their charges how to "share." Yes, I, Gavrich, a 17 year-old boy, am upset about (the lack of) sharing, as well as more general issues.
After school each day, a bunch of my fellow day students (of all high school grade levels) play—on Nintendo64—the classic game "SuperSmashBros.," in the school auditorium. It usually ends up with a dozen or so students sitting and watching while four of my fellow 6th Formers (high school seniors), for lack of a better term, "hog" the game controllers. Instead of being decent citizens, this Gang of Four chooses to bar nearly all others from playing, and get bent considerably far out-of-shape when someone asks that they share, citing the fact that they are 6th Formers. I, too, am a 6th Former, but whenever I ask to play, the response consists of un-pleasantries the likes of which I will not quote here, because doing so would sink me to the level of these individuals. Each of them is so engrossed in this pastime that he finds it unreasonable to sit out for one game so that someone else may be able to play. Suffice it to say, it is not at all mature or respectful.
Why don’t I leave, then? you might ask. I'll admit to enjoying what few rounds I am allowed to play, and will also admit to enjoying watching others play, as silly as it sounds. But I also sit there in the hopes that urging my peers to do the very grown-up (first-grade-grown-up, that is) work of occasionally sharing will eventually sink in. Thus far, it hasn't. I'm beginning to lose hope, and will likely need to take some mild corrective action with what little authority I have. I am certainly not wont to use physical force, but the cunning word is mightier than the fist, anyway.
I can stomach the abuse from my fellow 6th Formers--I have been teased and belittled throughout my school life--but what really upsets me is that these fundamentally disrespectful souls have become the role models for many of the younger students that wish to play. As a result, most of the 3rd and 4th Formers in this group have succumbed to the poisonous peer-pressure and have taken to deriding my every effort to inspire some fundamental respect (I hate to use the word so often, but it's most applicable to this situation) in those around me. In turn, these younger students will become bullies themselves, and the horrid cycle will be endless.
I am profoundly saddened to see this. I do not mean to seem arrogant, and I am certainly not looking for pity. Also, do not take this rant to mean that I think I am better than everyone else, and that I am the perfect human being as far as morals go. I know far better than that. I'll admit to being a nuisance who does not relate well to his peers. I'll admit that I tend to speak in a way that can be seen as condescending (I do not intend this; it is simply the way I am). I’ll also admit to periodically shooting my mouth off when I ought to keep quiet. However, these slip-ups are nowhere near the level at which the insults are shot back at me (and countless others).
Despite my many foibles, I MUST be granted the following: I respect others until I am made to feel otherwise. And believe it or not, it takes a great deal to turn me against someone. What I see daily is an unacceptably irresponsible set of behavior, not just towards me but towards many younger students who are undeserving of this malice.
Today, one of this “Gang of Four” made fun of me for being “the kind of person our school wants us to be.” He actually made fun of me for trying to respect people! I have never been so mortified or outraged in my entire life. I couldn’t control my anger, and I insulted him in a childish way, which I deeply regret. Nonetheless, if this is what my generation will be like, I’m skeptical of our future as human beings. Once respect starts to become uncool and obsolete, there is no turning back. And to me, that is as frightening as it gets.
Thank you; no lyrical selection tonight.
I hate to say it, but people never cease to disappoint me. Not everyone, mind you, but I see more and more every day.
I know it might sound childish, but I have a bit of a beef with the pre-school system. It seems that many teachers (and parents, in some cases) have neglected to teach their charges how to "share." Yes, I, Gavrich, a 17 year-old boy, am upset about (the lack of) sharing, as well as more general issues.
After school each day, a bunch of my fellow day students (of all high school grade levels) play—on Nintendo64—the classic game "SuperSmashBros.," in the school auditorium. It usually ends up with a dozen or so students sitting and watching while four of my fellow 6th Formers (high school seniors), for lack of a better term, "hog" the game controllers. Instead of being decent citizens, this Gang of Four chooses to bar nearly all others from playing, and get bent considerably far out-of-shape when someone asks that they share, citing the fact that they are 6th Formers. I, too, am a 6th Former, but whenever I ask to play, the response consists of un-pleasantries the likes of which I will not quote here, because doing so would sink me to the level of these individuals. Each of them is so engrossed in this pastime that he finds it unreasonable to sit out for one game so that someone else may be able to play. Suffice it to say, it is not at all mature or respectful.
Why don’t I leave, then? you might ask. I'll admit to enjoying what few rounds I am allowed to play, and will also admit to enjoying watching others play, as silly as it sounds. But I also sit there in the hopes that urging my peers to do the very grown-up (first-grade-grown-up, that is) work of occasionally sharing will eventually sink in. Thus far, it hasn't. I'm beginning to lose hope, and will likely need to take some mild corrective action with what little authority I have. I am certainly not wont to use physical force, but the cunning word is mightier than the fist, anyway.
I can stomach the abuse from my fellow 6th Formers--I have been teased and belittled throughout my school life--but what really upsets me is that these fundamentally disrespectful souls have become the role models for many of the younger students that wish to play. As a result, most of the 3rd and 4th Formers in this group have succumbed to the poisonous peer-pressure and have taken to deriding my every effort to inspire some fundamental respect (I hate to use the word so often, but it's most applicable to this situation) in those around me. In turn, these younger students will become bullies themselves, and the horrid cycle will be endless.
I am profoundly saddened to see this. I do not mean to seem arrogant, and I am certainly not looking for pity. Also, do not take this rant to mean that I think I am better than everyone else, and that I am the perfect human being as far as morals go. I know far better than that. I'll admit to being a nuisance who does not relate well to his peers. I'll admit that I tend to speak in a way that can be seen as condescending (I do not intend this; it is simply the way I am). I’ll also admit to periodically shooting my mouth off when I ought to keep quiet. However, these slip-ups are nowhere near the level at which the insults are shot back at me (and countless others).
Despite my many foibles, I MUST be granted the following: I respect others until I am made to feel otherwise. And believe it or not, it takes a great deal to turn me against someone. What I see daily is an unacceptably irresponsible set of behavior, not just towards me but towards many younger students who are undeserving of this malice.
Today, one of this “Gang of Four” made fun of me for being “the kind of person our school wants us to be.” He actually made fun of me for trying to respect people! I have never been so mortified or outraged in my entire life. I couldn’t control my anger, and I insulted him in a childish way, which I deeply regret. Nonetheless, if this is what my generation will be like, I’m skeptical of our future as human beings. Once respect starts to become uncool and obsolete, there is no turning back. And to me, that is as frightening as it gets.
Thank you; no lyrical selection tonight.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
A Brief Ejaculation (see secondary definition of the word)
"Come on!" (no pun intended)
Uttered by yours truly a couple of hours ago. During an episode of Law & Order: Criminal Intent on Bravo, a commercial opens up with a bottle of Korbel, a cheap champagne, against a black background. All of a sudden, the cork bursts off the bottle, followed by a great gushing of champagne foam. This gushing continues in silence for three to five seconds, and the thick foam drips down, covering the bottle. The ad ends with the fizz around the bottle dissipating, and the name "Korbel" re-emerging. Now, if you know me or read my blog, you know why this is distressing to me. I realize that sex is an important element in effective advertising, but this Korbel commercial is a bit over the top. And don't give me any "you're over-analyzing" crap. I think I've watched enough television to know what companies are getting at with these kinds of commercials.
This evening's lyrical selection is related to my quarrel with the corporate advertising industry.
Billy Joel, "Captain Jack"
"Saturday night and you're still hangin' around
Tired of livin' in your one-horse town
Like to find a little hole in the ground
For a while
So you go to the village in your tie-dye jeans
And you stare at the junkies and the closet queens
It's just like some pornographic magazine
And you smile
Captain Jack will get you high tonight
And take you to your special island
Captain Jack will get you by tonight
Just a little push and you'll be smilin'
Your sister's gone out. She's on a date
You just sit at home and masturbate
The phone is gonna ring soon but you just can't wait
For that call
So you stand on the corner in you New English clothes
And you look so polished from your hair down to your toes
But still your finger's gonna pick your nose
After all
But Captain Jack will get you high tonight
And take you to your special island
Captain Jack will get you by tonight
Just a little push and you'll be smilin'
La da da, Oh yeah, yeah
So you decide to take a holiday
You got your tape deck and your brand new Chevrolet
Ah but there's no place to go anyway
And what for...
You've got everything, but nothing's cool
They've just found your father in the swimming pool
And you guess you won't be going back to school
Anymore...
But Captain Jack will get you high tonight
And take you to your special island
Captain Jack will get you by tonight
Just a little push and you'll be smilin'
La da da, Oh yeah, yeah
So you play your albums and you smoke your pot
And you meet your girlfriend in the parking lot
Oh, but still you're aching for the things you have not got
What went wrong...
And if you can't understand why your world is so dead
And why you've got to keep in style and feed your head
Well, you're twenty-one and still your mother makes your bed
And that's too long...
But Captain Jack will get you high tonight
And take you to your special island
Captain Jack will get you by tonight
Just a little push and you'll be smilin'..."
Uttered by yours truly a couple of hours ago. During an episode of Law & Order: Criminal Intent on Bravo, a commercial opens up with a bottle of Korbel, a cheap champagne, against a black background. All of a sudden, the cork bursts off the bottle, followed by a great gushing of champagne foam. This gushing continues in silence for three to five seconds, and the thick foam drips down, covering the bottle. The ad ends with the fizz around the bottle dissipating, and the name "Korbel" re-emerging. Now, if you know me or read my blog, you know why this is distressing to me. I realize that sex is an important element in effective advertising, but this Korbel commercial is a bit over the top. And don't give me any "you're over-analyzing" crap. I think I've watched enough television to know what companies are getting at with these kinds of commercials.
This evening's lyrical selection is related to my quarrel with the corporate advertising industry.
Billy Joel, "Captain Jack"
"Saturday night and you're still hangin' around
Tired of livin' in your one-horse town
Like to find a little hole in the ground
For a while
So you go to the village in your tie-dye jeans
And you stare at the junkies and the closet queens
It's just like some pornographic magazine
And you smile
Captain Jack will get you high tonight
And take you to your special island
Captain Jack will get you by tonight
Just a little push and you'll be smilin'
Your sister's gone out. She's on a date
You just sit at home and masturbate
The phone is gonna ring soon but you just can't wait
For that call
So you stand on the corner in you New English clothes
And you look so polished from your hair down to your toes
But still your finger's gonna pick your nose
After all
But Captain Jack will get you high tonight
And take you to your special island
Captain Jack will get you by tonight
Just a little push and you'll be smilin'
La da da, Oh yeah, yeah
So you decide to take a holiday
You got your tape deck and your brand new Chevrolet
Ah but there's no place to go anyway
And what for...
You've got everything, but nothing's cool
They've just found your father in the swimming pool
And you guess you won't be going back to school
Anymore...
But Captain Jack will get you high tonight
And take you to your special island
Captain Jack will get you by tonight
Just a little push and you'll be smilin'
La da da, Oh yeah, yeah
So you play your albums and you smoke your pot
And you meet your girlfriend in the parking lot
Oh, but still you're aching for the things you have not got
What went wrong...
And if you can't understand why your world is so dead
And why you've got to keep in style and feed your head
Well, you're twenty-one and still your mother makes your bed
And that's too long...
But Captain Jack will get you high tonight
And take you to your special island
Captain Jack will get you by tonight
Just a little push and you'll be smilin'..."
Thursday, February 08, 2007
A Big-Time Bummer
Apparently , Anna Nicole Smith was found nearly dead in her hotel room today. She was pronounced so by 3 PM. Any way you cut it, it's really very sad. I must say that I will miss her presence in the entertainment-news arena.
I know what you're probably thinking. I, Gavrich, do not seem like I would be sympathetic to Anna Nicole. But hear me out.
Anna Nicole embodied a lot of traits that are associated with America. She rose from humble beginnings (one of six kids in her family, raised in Texas) to fame and wealth by opportunism, a very "American" progression.
Smith gained that wealth in a rather dubious way, by becoming a naughtier version of the famed Marilyn Monroe. Like it or not, PLAYBOY is an institution that is thoroughly American, because (like it or not) of its total lack of subtlety as far as sexuality is concerned. Americans can be generalized with a great many adjectives, but "subtle" is not one of them.
After her decline in desirability due to a gain in weight and adoption of some bad habits--her uncomplimentary television show and horrid drunkenness at the MTV awards (I think) made her a laughing stock--in American fashion, she tried to turn her life around. America is a land of second chances, and it seemed that she was doing alright, especially after becoming the spokesmodel for Trimspa. But tragically, the death of her son proved devastating, and her death this afternoon was the end of an overall-unfortunate story. But in spite of this, you've got to admire her (albeit brief) turnaround, if not much else.
A few minor Americanisms about Anna Nicole (forgive me if I repeat myself***):
- Worked in both a Wal-Mart and a Red Lobster, both stereotypical American establishments.
- Resorted to stripping in order to support her son, met her future husband J. Howard Marshall, who was 63 years older than she.
- A lot of plastic surgery.
- Became a kind of Marilyn-Monroe, Jr. Marilyn Monroe herself (and her mystique) is thoroughly, undoubtedly American.
- Went bankrupt.
- Sued for half of Marshall's estate after he died--we Americans love our lawsuits.
- Reality TV show documenting her private life and antics.
***In these "Americanisms," I do not mean to be stereotypical, or to say that these are only American things. However, they can be closely associated with our great country, for better or worse.
I suppose only one set of lyrics is appropriate for this evening's offering:
Elton John/Bernie Taupin, "Candle in the Wind"
"Goodbye Norma Jean,
Though I never knew you at all
You had the grace to hold yourself
While those around you crawled.
They crawled out of the woodwork
And they whispered into your brain
They set you on the treadmill
And they made you change your name...
And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind,
Never knowing who to cling to
When the rain set in.
And I would have liked to have known you
But I was just a kid,
Your candle burned out long before
Your legend ever did...
Loneliness was tough
The toughest role you ever played,
Hollywood created a superstar
And pain was the price you paid.
Even when you died
Oh the press still hounded you,
All the papers had to say
Was that Marilyn was found in the nude...
And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind,
Never knowing who to cling to
When the rain set in.
And I would have liked to have known you
But I was just a kid,
Your candle burned out long before
Your legend ever did...
Goodbye Norma Jean
From the young man in the 22nd row,
Who sees you as something more than sexual
More than just our Marilyn Monroe...
And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind,
Never knowing who to cling to
When the rain set in.
And I would have liked to have known you
But I was just a kid,
Your candle burned out long before
Your legend ever did..."
I know what you're probably thinking. I, Gavrich, do not seem like I would be sympathetic to Anna Nicole. But hear me out.
Anna Nicole embodied a lot of traits that are associated with America. She rose from humble beginnings (one of six kids in her family, raised in Texas) to fame and wealth by opportunism, a very "American" progression.
Smith gained that wealth in a rather dubious way, by becoming a naughtier version of the famed Marilyn Monroe. Like it or not, PLAYBOY is an institution that is thoroughly American, because (like it or not) of its total lack of subtlety as far as sexuality is concerned. Americans can be generalized with a great many adjectives, but "subtle" is not one of them.
After her decline in desirability due to a gain in weight and adoption of some bad habits--her uncomplimentary television show and horrid drunkenness at the MTV awards (I think) made her a laughing stock--in American fashion, she tried to turn her life around. America is a land of second chances, and it seemed that she was doing alright, especially after becoming the spokesmodel for Trimspa. But tragically, the death of her son proved devastating, and her death this afternoon was the end of an overall-unfortunate story. But in spite of this, you've got to admire her (albeit brief) turnaround, if not much else.
A few minor Americanisms about Anna Nicole (forgive me if I repeat myself***):
- Worked in both a Wal-Mart and a Red Lobster, both stereotypical American establishments.
- Resorted to stripping in order to support her son, met her future husband J. Howard Marshall, who was 63 years older than she.
- A lot of plastic surgery.
- Became a kind of Marilyn-Monroe, Jr. Marilyn Monroe herself (and her mystique) is thoroughly, undoubtedly American.
- Went bankrupt.
- Sued for half of Marshall's estate after he died--we Americans love our lawsuits.
- Reality TV show documenting her private life and antics.
***In these "Americanisms," I do not mean to be stereotypical, or to say that these are only American things. However, they can be closely associated with our great country, for better or worse.
I suppose only one set of lyrics is appropriate for this evening's offering:
Elton John/Bernie Taupin, "Candle in the Wind"
"Goodbye Norma Jean,
Though I never knew you at all
You had the grace to hold yourself
While those around you crawled.
They crawled out of the woodwork
And they whispered into your brain
They set you on the treadmill
And they made you change your name...
And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind,
Never knowing who to cling to
When the rain set in.
And I would have liked to have known you
But I was just a kid,
Your candle burned out long before
Your legend ever did...
Loneliness was tough
The toughest role you ever played,
Hollywood created a superstar
And pain was the price you paid.
Even when you died
Oh the press still hounded you,
All the papers had to say
Was that Marilyn was found in the nude...
And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind,
Never knowing who to cling to
When the rain set in.
And I would have liked to have known you
But I was just a kid,
Your candle burned out long before
Your legend ever did...
Goodbye Norma Jean
From the young man in the 22nd row,
Who sees you as something more than sexual
More than just our Marilyn Monroe...
And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind,
Never knowing who to cling to
When the rain set in.
And I would have liked to have known you
But I was just a kid,
Your candle burned out long before
Your legend ever did..."
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Notes on the Evening of a Super Bowl
First of all, Hoorah Colts. Okay, got that over with.
Did anyone else notice that this evening's Super Bowl commercials were A) not up to snuff with previous Super Bowl commercials, and B) especially moribund? There was the heart-disease-awareness commercial which depicted a fairly scrawny, gray-haired guy dressed in a heart-shaped costume getting fairly ominously beaten-up by a variety of nasty-looking characters who represent various heart-related maladies (high blood presure, diabetes, high cholesterol, and the like). In another commercial, a GM car assembly-line machine contemplates and then daydreams of its suicide by jumping off a bridge. I'm not eight years old, but I found these (and the other questionably macabre) advertisemens to be a bit unnecessary. I could sense thousands of overprotective parents of small children staring, outraged at these commercials, and it was disconcerting. I guess the years of the Coca-Cola-Kid-Mean-Joe-Green-like exchanges in commercials are over, and pure sensuality is here to say.
Another Super Bowl-related revelation, what I am about to say will probably shock you, dear readers. I belive that Janet Jackson's right breast saved the institution of the Super Bowl Halftime Show from utter creative squalor. After the Wardrobe Malfunction, the people who organize the Halftime Show decided that recent "artists" (not necessarily musicians, remember) should not be trusted to give a properly entertaining show. As a result, we are allowed to hear actual music during Halftime of the Super Bowl. I (and most other sensible viewers) have enjoyed the Rolling Stones and Prince as the las couple Halftime Show acts. Just think, if it weren't for that bit of "accidental" exhibitionism, we would have had to suffer through a Halftime Show involving, the Pussycat Dolls, the Black Eyed Peas, and Panic! At The Disco.
Phew!
Tonight's lyrical selection:
Phil Ochs, "When I'm Gone" (I'm not depressed; it's just a neat song), last three verses:
"Won't see the golden of the sun when I'm gone,
And the evenings and the mornings will be one when I'm gone,
Can't be singing louder than the guns when I'm gone,
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here.
All my days won't be dances of delight when I'm gone,
And the sands will be shifting from my sight when I'm gone,
Can't add my name into the fight while I'm gone,
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here.
And I won't be laughing at the lies when I'm gone,
And I can't question how or when or why when I'm gone,
Can't live proud enough to die when I'm gone,
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here."
Did anyone else notice that this evening's Super Bowl commercials were A) not up to snuff with previous Super Bowl commercials, and B) especially moribund? There was the heart-disease-awareness commercial which depicted a fairly scrawny, gray-haired guy dressed in a heart-shaped costume getting fairly ominously beaten-up by a variety of nasty-looking characters who represent various heart-related maladies (high blood presure, diabetes, high cholesterol, and the like). In another commercial, a GM car assembly-line machine contemplates and then daydreams of its suicide by jumping off a bridge. I'm not eight years old, but I found these (and the other questionably macabre) advertisemens to be a bit unnecessary. I could sense thousands of overprotective parents of small children staring, outraged at these commercials, and it was disconcerting. I guess the years of the Coca-Cola-Kid-Mean-Joe-Green-like exchanges in commercials are over, and pure sensuality is here to say.
Another Super Bowl-related revelation, what I am about to say will probably shock you, dear readers. I belive that Janet Jackson's right breast saved the institution of the Super Bowl Halftime Show from utter creative squalor. After the Wardrobe Malfunction, the people who organize the Halftime Show decided that recent "artists" (not necessarily musicians, remember) should not be trusted to give a properly entertaining show. As a result, we are allowed to hear actual music during Halftime of the Super Bowl. I (and most other sensible viewers) have enjoyed the Rolling Stones and Prince as the las couple Halftime Show acts. Just think, if it weren't for that bit of "accidental" exhibitionism, we would have had to suffer through a Halftime Show involving, the Pussycat Dolls, the Black Eyed Peas, and Panic! At The Disco.
Phew!
Tonight's lyrical selection:
Phil Ochs, "When I'm Gone" (I'm not depressed; it's just a neat song), last three verses:
"Won't see the golden of the sun when I'm gone,
And the evenings and the mornings will be one when I'm gone,
Can't be singing louder than the guns when I'm gone,
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here.
All my days won't be dances of delight when I'm gone,
And the sands will be shifting from my sight when I'm gone,
Can't add my name into the fight while I'm gone,
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here.
And I won't be laughing at the lies when I'm gone,
And I can't question how or when or why when I'm gone,
Can't live proud enough to die when I'm gone,
So I guess I'll have to do it while I'm here."
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
A Hodgepodge
In preparation to write down Hamlet's "To be, or not to be..." soliloquy (for a grade) in toto tomorrow, I recorded myself speaking it into my laptop. Upon listening to it, I discovered that I've got an extremely annoying speaking voice, notwithstanding that I somewhat lisp words with a "ch" or "s," sound, such as "pitch," or "conscience," to name two in the very speech I am memorizing. There's nothing wrong with this; it's just odd to hear the difference between the sound of my voice as I hear it as I speak, and when I hear a recording of my speech. But to sum that up, I realized today that If I had to hear my voice from the perspective of others, I'd find myself pretty annoying too. So I apologize to you whose ears are ringing from my drivel.
Watch "JEOPARDY!". It'll make you smarter.
I think I'd like to go into politics, perhaps. There's not enough youth or humor in that field. I nearly just said I'd like to be president, but that's a cliché and a bit over the top. But either way, look out for a "Gavrich 2040" or "Gavrich 2044" campaign.
Now, this evening's lyrical selection:
Van Morrison, "Everyone"
"By the winding stream,
We shall lie and dream.
Well make dreams come true
If we want them to.
Yes all will come,
Play the pipes and drum.
Sing a happy song,
And we'll sing along.
Everyone, everyone, everyone, everyone, everyone, everyone, everyone, everyone..."
Watch "JEOPARDY!". It'll make you smarter.
I think I'd like to go into politics, perhaps. There's not enough youth or humor in that field. I nearly just said I'd like to be president, but that's a cliché and a bit over the top. But either way, look out for a "Gavrich 2040" or "Gavrich 2044" campaign.
Now, this evening's lyrical selection:
Van Morrison, "Everyone"
"By the winding stream,
We shall lie and dream.
Well make dreams come true
If we want them to.
Yes all will come,
Play the pipes and drum.
Sing a happy song,
And we'll sing along.
Everyone, everyone, everyone, everyone, everyone, everyone, everyone, everyone..."
Saturday, January 20, 2007
A Bit of Tersity
I learned a lesson in delicacy this evening. At my school's hockey game tonight against a rival school, I took to shouting a phrase of derision that I thought was clever and funny during the lull that happens after the cheers for a home goal. I got a laugh when I cried, "Get used to it!" after the first goal. But, on the second and third goals, I made comments that were not laughed at, and fellt quite silly--sillier than usual, in fact. So I'll try to be a little more tactful and selective in the future. But I'm skeptical of whether I'll actually hold myself to that.
Tonight's lyric excerpt:
Yes, "Owner of a Lonely Heart"
"Watch it now,
The eagle in the sky,
How he dancin' one and only.
You - lose yourself,
No not for pity's sake,
There's no real reason to be lonely.
Be yourself,
Give your free will a chance,
You've got to want to succeed."
Tonight's lyric excerpt:
Yes, "Owner of a Lonely Heart"
"Watch it now,
The eagle in the sky,
How he dancin' one and only.
You - lose yourself,
No not for pity's sake,
There's no real reason to be lonely.
Be yourself,
Give your free will a chance,
You've got to want to succeed."
Friday, January 19, 2007
To Blog, or Not To Blog (plus Bathroom-Humor!)?
...that is the (answered, since you are reading this) question. I really don't see the point of memorizing 32 lines of a play. Sure, it's one of the greatest passages ever written (and performed, of course), but what good is done by forcing us to memorize it for the sake of memorizing it? I would very much rather devote the time I will spend internalizing it (only to write it down on a piece of paper on Tuesday morning for a grade) to actually LEARNING (sorry, I'm not HTML-savvy enough to be able to put anything in bold or italics or any of that) the soliloquy. Memorizing it, contrary to the belief of the English teachers, will not cause us to grasp its meaning or brilliance in the same way that discussing it would. It'll just make those 30-some-odd lines the bane of our existence (pardon the wretched cliché) for the next three-plus days.
I'm sorry, that wasn't terribly deep or funny. But don't stop reading quite yet (tempted though you may be).
I was at Five Guys Burgers and Fries this evening (I received a great many weird glances from a gaggle of people with whom I attended middle school). Wanting to wash my hands before I received my Cheeseburger-with-mustard-fried-onions-and-sautéed-mushrooms, I headed for the bathroom.
The men's bathroom at Five Guys falls into the category of "one-holers," meaning that it is designed to be occupied by one person at a time, unless you aren't there to do what one normally does in the bathroom. Imagine my surprise when I saw BOTH a urinal AND a conventional toilet! What a waste of money! There's (theoretically) only going to be one person in the bathroom at a time, and one can easily use the conventional toilet for the purpose a urinal serves as well. Seems silly to me.
ONE MORE THING: NEW TIM'S VARIED MUSINGS INSTITUTION (hopefully)! I will try to get in the habit of posting some of my favorite song lyrics, as well as the name of the song and artist, at the end (or beginning, if the theme of the lyrics is relevant to my post) of my post. On certain days, I may just decide to post the lyrics, if I have a touch of "blogger's brain," a cousin of "writer's block." Please comment on the lyrics; I'd love to hear some input.
First set of lyrics:
Leonard Cohen, "Sisters of Mercy"
"O the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone,
They were waiting for me, when I thought that I just can't go on,
And they gave me their comfort, and later they gave me their song,
Oh I hope you run into them, you who've been traveling so long.
Yes you who must lose everything that you cannot control,
It begins with your family, but soon it comes round to your soul,
Well I've been where you're hanging, I think I can see how you're pinned,
When you're not feeling holy, your loneliness says that you've sinned.
They lay down beside me, I made my confession to them
They touched both my eyes, and I touched the dew on their hem
If your life is a leaf that the seasons tear off and condemn
They will bind you with love that is graceful and green as a stem.
When I left they were sleeping, I hope you run into them soon,
Don't turn on the light, you can read their address by the moon,
And it won't make me jealous if I learn that they've sweetened your night,
We weren't lovers like that, and besides it would still be alright,
We weren't lovers like that, and besides it would still be alright."
Good night.
I'm sorry, that wasn't terribly deep or funny. But don't stop reading quite yet (tempted though you may be).
I was at Five Guys Burgers and Fries this evening (I received a great many weird glances from a gaggle of people with whom I attended middle school). Wanting to wash my hands before I received my Cheeseburger-with-mustard-fried-onions-and-sautéed-mushrooms, I headed for the bathroom.
The men's bathroom at Five Guys falls into the category of "one-holers," meaning that it is designed to be occupied by one person at a time, unless you aren't there to do what one normally does in the bathroom. Imagine my surprise when I saw BOTH a urinal AND a conventional toilet! What a waste of money! There's (theoretically) only going to be one person in the bathroom at a time, and one can easily use the conventional toilet for the purpose a urinal serves as well. Seems silly to me.
ONE MORE THING: NEW TIM'S VARIED MUSINGS INSTITUTION (hopefully)! I will try to get in the habit of posting some of my favorite song lyrics, as well as the name of the song and artist, at the end (or beginning, if the theme of the lyrics is relevant to my post) of my post. On certain days, I may just decide to post the lyrics, if I have a touch of "blogger's brain," a cousin of "writer's block." Please comment on the lyrics; I'd love to hear some input.
First set of lyrics:
Leonard Cohen, "Sisters of Mercy"
"O the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone,
They were waiting for me, when I thought that I just can't go on,
And they gave me their comfort, and later they gave me their song,
Oh I hope you run into them, you who've been traveling so long.
Yes you who must lose everything that you cannot control,
It begins with your family, but soon it comes round to your soul,
Well I've been where you're hanging, I think I can see how you're pinned,
When you're not feeling holy, your loneliness says that you've sinned.
They lay down beside me, I made my confession to them
They touched both my eyes, and I touched the dew on their hem
If your life is a leaf that the seasons tear off and condemn
They will bind you with love that is graceful and green as a stem.
When I left they were sleeping, I hope you run into them soon,
Don't turn on the light, you can read their address by the moon,
And it won't make me jealous if I learn that they've sweetened your night,
We weren't lovers like that, and besides it would still be alright,
We weren't lovers like that, and besides it would still be alright."
Good night.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
If the AXE Label Were Accurate
...my life would be decidedly more exciting, albeit totally early-Augustinian (Juicy, I hope you detect the reference).
Has anybody seen these commercials for AXE-brand products to make boys and men a little more olfactorily tolerable? You know, the one that shows approximately swarms of hundreds and hundreds women who can only be described by the superficial male public-generated word "hot," running with string bikinis a-flopping (along with that which lies under said bikinis) toward a fairly normal-looking kid/guy (aged 17-25, presumably), all because the aforementioned kid/guy sprayed himself with a little AXE Body Spray? I'm here to tell you not to take any stock in those commercials. The same goes for the TAG-brand body spritzing agent (I believe one of their commercials shows three successive levels of young womens' apartments with said female tenants "pole-dancing" around a continuous water pipe, the audience eventually seeing a guy taking a shower in the apartment above). My ratio of "late nights" has not increased, at least not the "late nights" that the body spray implies.
In other news...
Have you ever noticed how people seem to think you're weird, despite having a relatively narrow view of what sort of person you really are? If not, you should consider yourself very, very lucky. (Sorry for the abrupt change in tone; I'm stepping onto the "blogging-for-the-sake-of-blogging" bridge)
I just read that left-handed people are generally more adept at video games and athletic pursuits than right-handed people. (Yep, a few steps further onto the bridge...)
So...yeah...good talk... (I'm now doing "The Worm" on the middle of the bridge)
Good night. (I have finally jumped off the bridge and into the murky, uncertain, yet warm waters of sleepiness)
Has anybody seen these commercials for AXE-brand products to make boys and men a little more olfactorily tolerable? You know, the one that shows approximately swarms of hundreds and hundreds women who can only be described by the superficial male public-generated word "hot," running with string bikinis a-flopping (along with that which lies under said bikinis) toward a fairly normal-looking kid/guy (aged 17-25, presumably), all because the aforementioned kid/guy sprayed himself with a little AXE Body Spray? I'm here to tell you not to take any stock in those commercials. The same goes for the TAG-brand body spritzing agent (I believe one of their commercials shows three successive levels of young womens' apartments with said female tenants "pole-dancing" around a continuous water pipe, the audience eventually seeing a guy taking a shower in the apartment above). My ratio of "late nights" has not increased, at least not the "late nights" that the body spray implies.
In other news...
Have you ever noticed how people seem to think you're weird, despite having a relatively narrow view of what sort of person you really are? If not, you should consider yourself very, very lucky. (Sorry for the abrupt change in tone; I'm stepping onto the "blogging-for-the-sake-of-blogging" bridge)
I just read that left-handed people are generally more adept at video games and athletic pursuits than right-handed people. (Yep, a few steps further onto the bridge...)
So...yeah...good talk... (I'm now doing "The Worm" on the middle of the bridge)
Good night. (I have finally jumped off the bridge and into the murky, uncertain, yet warm waters of sleepiness)
Monday, January 01, 2007
What An Incredible Rack (My New Years Eve)!
Now that I have your attention..
My New Years Eve night began with a most succulent rack of lamb with a dijon mustard and breadcrumb crust, garlic mashed potatoes. Then, I went with my family to see Ben Stiller's latest turkey, "Night at the Museum," and the night progressed in a downward direction.
The movie consisted of two full hours of every plot cliché available. And all the audience received in return was 10 minutes of novelty, a few chuckles, and a little bit of history. It was not exactly the way I would have chosen to close out my 2006. But, it was perhaps a fitting conclusion to a fairly ho-hum year with very little in the way of intrigue and excitement. But, such is my life, I suppose.
Anyway, perhaps I'll try to assemble a list of New Years Resolutions and post them, but perhaps not, if something else moves me more profoundly (goodness knows I love to complain).
My New Years Eve night began with a most succulent rack of lamb with a dijon mustard and breadcrumb crust, garlic mashed potatoes. Then, I went with my family to see Ben Stiller's latest turkey, "Night at the Museum," and the night progressed in a downward direction.
The movie consisted of two full hours of every plot cliché available. And all the audience received in return was 10 minutes of novelty, a few chuckles, and a little bit of history. It was not exactly the way I would have chosen to close out my 2006. But, it was perhaps a fitting conclusion to a fairly ho-hum year with very little in the way of intrigue and excitement. But, such is my life, I suppose.
Anyway, perhaps I'll try to assemble a list of New Years Resolutions and post them, but perhaps not, if something else moves me more profoundly (goodness knows I love to complain).
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