July 14, 2009
June 22, 2009
Setting up a website is not easy or fun. It takes forever for this server to point itself at that one and there’s a ton of routing and pointing to be done. Being an internet nerd is not my strong suit but I have been assured that once everything is in place it’s going to be rad and not nerdy at all. I’m going to use wordpress, the same thing you’re looking at here, except it will be running inside a host site so I will have more options and a cooler domain name so I can get on with branding this bitch and getting a t shirt up for sale. Yes, this is ideally a commercial venture which is really not so uncommon these days even for rinky dink little blogs like mine. Sure initially it’s a matter of a cent or two here and there but as my gran used to say, “Mind the pence and the pounds take care of themselves”. She was Irish and that was before the euro.
Now you are probably thinking, “What is this dip stick thinking he can do over here? Seen it all man…”. Fair enough I’ll tell you what I’m thinking I can do over here.
1. Blogging. Writing about all the things as I do and hopefully getting published on some other blogs. Not such an outrageous concept, it’s already happened twice. I want to get better at writing and when I do watch TV I often think my writing is just as shitty as most of the stuff on there so why not try to expand into that racket.
2. Art stuff. Pictures and things, original and found. Stuff to look at while you are at work bored out of your mind. I don’t know much but I do know for a fact that there are tons of really bored people faking it at work who are always looking for something new to stare at on the internet.
3. Video and interviews. I love interviewing people and REALLY love being on TV. Unfortunately nobody else wants me on TV so I’m going to use the internet instead. Why the heck not. I may as well mention here that I recently bought the domain name “no reality tv.com” (I did a local public access TV show under that name in 07) and in a few years that will be as good as a TV station if not better. The internet is just a giant network anyway so that one is obvious. Think about how much the way people think about TV and the internet is going to change in the near future. I’d be a dork not to get in on the action. Plus No Reality TV (NRTV) is just a cool fucking name!
The site will be up and running by Tuesday, maybe sooner. http://www.daz76.com. Print out the picture below and cut it into fours. Then take it to your local record store/taco shack/drug den and tack it up on the wall. Thanks!
June 19, 2009
OK not really, just the last post here. For now. I’ll keep this page around for a while but all operations are moving to:
Thank you for reading this stuff and I hope you will keep on reading at the new site.
While you are here I’ll throw up a quick short story analysis.
“Kansas” by Steven Dobyns tells the tale of a boy hitchhiking to Lawrence Kansas during a summer break from college. The boy is picked up by a farmer who announces that he is on his way to kill his wife and her lover. There is a pistol in the front seat of the truck next to the farmer. The boy arrives safely in Lawrence without incident but he is left unsure of what ultimately happened to the farmer and if he did indeed carry out his murderous plan.
The story continues with the boy growing into a man and eventually taking to his death bed. Here he lies dying in a morphine-induced fog where he envisions the many possible outcomes that could have occurred after his fateful ride with the blood thirsty farmer some sixty years ago. He imagines several scenarios of terrible violence as well as scenarios with peaceful outcomes. When the protagonist eventually dies his son watches on as the funeral home directors put the corpse into a body bag. We learn that the son will loop this moment over and over in his mind for the rest of his life.
In “Kansas” Dobyns addresses a sort of post traumatic stress disorder brought on by the terrifying and life threatening experience the main character experienced as a boy. This can also be seen in the reaction the son has to watching his father die. The story also alludes to the possible lifelong sense of regret the protagonist suffered because he had done nothing to effect a situation that may have led to a brutal murder.
May 13, 2009
So in my previous post (below) we covered the basic concept, divorcing ciggies not nicotine or even all smoke for that matter. I endorsed the nicotine inhaler as the best and most natural feeling way to transition away from cigs because it satisfies many of the actions related to smoking, you have a little box, it feels good in your fingers and you hold it like a cigarette when you inhale that beloved nicotine.
That’s just the start though. I don’t know about you, but smoking for me was tied with many everyday activities like driving, drinking beer, partying, hanging out, having conversations, going to the bathroom, after eating, talking on the phone, breaks at work etc. That’s a lot of stuff that’s going to happen when your former best friend (cigarettes) are going to be sorely missed. I honestly believe that this is the real trouble zone for people trying to quit, more so than nicotine addicti0n because you can have that all you want. What I’m saying is that real determination is required, and more importantly a murderous level of will power. we are talking about a huge lifestyle change that affects almost every part of your life.
If you are sensitive or easily offended skip this section because I’m going get realer than real deal about smoking. If I offend you I’m sorry but you have been warned.
Smoking makes you look stupid. This is 2009, the studies are in, and Native Americans never smoked Marlboro’s around the campfire. Smoking is incredibly irritating to non smokers making it anti-social behaviour. Nobody is saying this to you as a smoker, but they are thinking it. Your skin is all wrinkly and loose. Your cough is disgusting. That phlegm rumble that you cough up and then swallow (if you don’t spit out) makes peoples stomach turn. You know what it looks like, that grey thing you hack up in the shower… You’re eating that! So fucking vile!! You are a slave to an evil industry that is killing you for profit, yet you feel rebellious for smoking. You’re not. In fact what you are doing is the opposite of rebellion, you’re a corporate conformist of the worst kind and non smokers know it. You smell. You have bad breath. Did I mention how gross the coughing is?
Sorry about that, but it had to be said. I smoked for a long time so I am guilty of all that as well. This kind of goes back to my first point of inspiration, it’s actually quite satisfying to have a whole class of people that can be legitimately looked down upon. Human nature I guess…
Once you have committed to the nicotine inhaler for a week or so the initial grief and pain and feeling at a loss begins to subside and a sense of accomplishment eases in. steady up though, this is the danger zone when you feel you are in control and can have a puff or two. This is where it often ends for most people. Even three weeks in you are probably still not totally over smoking and this is when real focus factor is needed.
Cut drinking straws into cigarette length size and hold in your hand when out at bars, even fake smoke on them. Nobody will notice of care and as long as you are cranked out of your mind on nice clean smoke free nicotine this technique provides a nice distraction and satisfies the tactile interaction of having a cigarette in your hand.
Meditation and breathing are part of this. I’m not talking about sitting lotus position with a turban on or anything, I’m talking about becoming more aware of how good it feels to breath, and accepting that we all need “quiet time” that cigarettes allow us. Isn’t smoking meditative? It was for me. But then again smoking was everything to me, it was my life. when I was given a box of nicotine gum shortly after beginning my quitting regimen with the inhaler. The box of gum came with a cassette that featured a sort of radio play of a group therapy session for quitting smoking. The therapist was voiced as an Asian man espousing simple concepts about breathing exercises and the various stereotype session attendees chiming in was funny. You have your truck drivin’ tough guy, a grandma, etc. and honestly I found the tape very helpful, if not a bit corny and funny. I have a tape deck in my car so you might want to get a CD like this. They’re out there for cheap and like this blog entry are 100% here to help you quit smoking.
And then gum.
After a certain time period, I’m sure it’s different for everyone, the nicotine inhaler starts to feel redundant. The work involved in loading the nicotine pellets into the inhaler tube, the crack as you twist and break the seal, the “fake” smoking (for lack of a better term) seems excessive. This is when it’s gum time. I’m not a big gum chewer but whatever. The gum is tough and I seem to remember it being bitter, but you know what, that’s OK. Smoking is harsh. All the heat and combustion, maybe even a bit of sulfur in your nose from a match… Smokers like it a bit harsh. So the gum’s not awesome but it’s sort of minty and if you love nicotine like I did it’s good stuff. Chew the gum all day and night until you just don’t want to chew anymore and that’s hopefully when you are a full blown ex-smoker. Time to revel and start gloating at the suckers.
Truth is, and I knew this going into smoking, it’s never over. I often smoke cigarettes in my dreams to this day. I know people that have fully quit smoking for years and then go back. I still love to smell a fresh unlit cigarette or bury my nose in a bag of rolling tobacco. There is no denying some of the pleasurable aspects of cigarettes but you don’t need me to tell you why it’s bad. I just did that in over a thousand words in two parts.
Good luck and everyone relapses before finally putting down the smokes. I will say that I honestly tried and failed quitting about five times over ten years. I can’t say it enough, the inhaler was the system that did it for me, that and a burning anger at the industry that I threw money at for years and years. Get mad about it and I know you can quit. This may sound stupid but it is one of my passions in life to influence people to quit smoking. My grandfather who I never met died of lung cancer from smoking and I know how tragic that was for my mom to watch her dad die slowly and painfully, just wanting to breath. Until he just couldn’t anymore.
I’m not going out like that and I hope you don’t either. That’s all I got as far as the technical side of things but I will write more on this in terms of my relationship and history with smoking because I think it’s pretty interesting, not your typical peer pressured kid wants to be a bad ass kind of thing at all… Next time.
Good luck. You can do it.
May 12, 2009
Obviously it’s best not to start. I don’t mean that in any snide way, I bring it up because one of the greatest motivational factors in quitting cigarettes is being able to brag that you did it. Especially to your sorry ass friends who are still hooked, making excuses and treating their health with a glib existential nonchalance. I get it I’ve been there. I mention the not starting thing because on the more positive and less mean tip, one of the greatest things to do is be influential to someone, especially kids, in avoiding smoking to begin with.
So there’s two inspirational quit smoking concepts right there:
1. Gloating at your still addicted smoker friends is genuinely rewarding and
2. It’s mad positive to spread the word of not smoking to kids
Staying on the inspirational tip, lets talk about cigarettes.
Before we do I want you to light up, enjoy the moment. I’m not here talking blood and guts or to scare you. Again I’m not fucking around (I’m known for some sarcasm I guess), I want you to be happy while reading this and I don’t expect you to read this in the throws of quitting. No pressure here, you choose your time to quit. For right now have a smoke and please, read on…
The tobacco industry is so powerful and evil it’s scary. They add poisonous chemicals to the tobacco that make the product more addictive. Research the tobacco industry and watch “The Insider”. Great quiting inspiration, I watched it while smoking.
Now for the how to. Later I will talk about my relationship with the old cowboy killers and my experience quitting, but I’m going to keep this part really simple and technical.
First keep this in mind – you are two things, a cigarette smoker, and a nicotine addict. Basic premise with my quit smoking plan. Here’s what I’m proposing to you: Stay a nicotine addict, quit cigarettes. I shit you not you can do it.
Nicotine gum sucks (at first) and is not central to my plan. But I’m sure that’s what you are thinking, duh he’s just saying do the gum or get a patch. No! It’s better than than that. They have a thing called the nicotine inhaler. This will be your new best friend as soon as the grief of the death of your old best friend (your last cigarette) begins to subside. And that’s real, take into consideration the mourning process that will happen. That’s why this quitting business is extra tricky, because it’s so not just about physical addiction. It’s very mental.
Quitting smoking step 1.
The nicotine inhaler is the greatest quit smoking product on the market or at least the one that worked for me, a former two pack a day Camel Lites man. Here’s why: The process. It totally allows for all the elements that surround a smoking habbit and satisfies the real addiction – sweet sweet nicotine. Keep in mind, nicotine isn’t so bad at all, it’s just pleasurable and addictive and legal and cheap. The method of transmission is the enemy, all the poisonous smoke.
The inhaler comes in a little plastic box that I kept wherever I had kept my smokes before. One of the greatest aspects to smoking is all the little “breaks” you get in life. Stepping away from it all momentarily. I didn’t give that up. I had my inhaler, that while no cigarette imitation, felt OK between my fingers and if I took a good hit I could feel the pure medical grade nicotine hitting my lungs. My smoking routine was the same, only the smoke was gone.
Before we move on to the next phase of my plan let me share a little trick and again, it may sound obvious but this is real quitting business here and I’m dead serious.
Quitting smoking step 2.
I know that sounds crazy but hear me out. First up this will never work if you continue to smoke cigarettes even once, because that’s what you are quitting FOREVER. You never said you were quitting cigars though, right? Ganja? It’s all good. In moderation of course, I mean light puffs on a bidi as a treat. I promise that as long as you seriously keep feeding you nicotine addiction with the inhaler you will change the way you relate to smoke and smoking, and it soon loses it’s appeal, trust me. But when you quit cigarettes that’s it, never a puff off a cig again. You can never be a weekend/social cigarette smoker, it doesn’t work, I’ve seen it a million times, and that’s the only rule I propose here.
I’m just coming off a DJ high from a dubstep gig at Ruta Maya but I promised someone earlier that I would follow up on my offer to share help on quitting. DJing has alot to do with why I quit but I just have to chill for now. I’ll be back with part 2 soon. This really is just a start and I really want to help people quit because it’s a real life corporate conspiracy to take your money and kill you and you like it.
In summary, when you are ready to quit buy the nicotine inhaler.
More coming soon…
March 30, 2009
I decided to re-post this because we are coming up on the 1 year anniversary of when I traveled to Denver Colorado from Austin Texas to see my favorite band Kraftwerk perform. If ou don’t know about Kraftwerk then go to www.kraftwerk.com and check it out. To say they are influential to all forms of modern pop music is an understatement, as bits and pieces of their sonic output created over almost 40 years are interwoven ubiquitously throughout our modern sonic landscapes. Anyway, I wrote this early morning after the concert, I was stone cold sober at the show but we definitely took it to the streets after and that may account for the dramatic writing style that follows.
Below you will find my thoughts in retrospect on the review. So here you go, my Kraftwerk live in Denver review:
Stefan rules. Florian live is a thing of the past. If I realized anything tonight at the Kraftwerk Konzert in Denver Colorado, the Mile High City, it’s that poor old Flo has become too much of the goofyguy in Kraftwerk and had to go. I made a joke about that in a recent post, but subconsciously it might have been reality based humor. After the show tonight I am more in agreement with my dumb joke. Tonight Kraftwerk were in very serious shape and I detected a new exiting nervous edge to the situation. Someone recently wrote that they thought the “new guy” was having some “Holy Shit, I’m in Kraftwerk” moments and at tonight’s show it seemed at times he was in the throws of an unselfconscious ecstatic death. I hate to say it, but after tonight’s performance I almost can’t wait for them to replace Ralf. Tonight KW looked and sounded more vital than ever. Sorry, old schoolers, I’m just being honest about what I saw and listened to tonight. The show was riddled with glitches. Really, really huge and embarrassing glitches that involved jarring and abrupt timing of song breakdown and ending/edits and I was so happy to see how live a Kraftwerk show is. As a long time fan and student of their work I could sense at more than a few moments just how close they came to musical disaster, and then coming back to a solution. Some songs resolved with CD accuracy and some, not so much. It was awesome to watch them squirm and correctly “twiddle the knobs” like you can’t see on the Min Max DVD. Their stupid curtain is the pink elephant in the room, and it’s covered in holes repaired with duct tape. Sorry to blow the mystic but these guys are just a bit rag tag these days, and you know what? It’s awesome. For all the fuck ups and awkwardness there were some amazing saves and intense interactive live action on stage, involving both band and crew. Worst things about the show: Weird and uncomfortable ending to “Music Non Stop” with minimal solos because “you know who” is gone and it’s a different thing now. Best thing about the show: All the fuck ups and the temperamental curtain. The amazing sound, and the fun new video and audio elements. It’s pretty obvious that like in the late 90′s we witnessed an end of a certain era of live KW performance. I have a feeling it wont be long before we see a “new wave” of KW music, style, and performance.
Darren Ryan April 08.
I pretty much called it on Florian not coming back, in fact not only did he stop being part of the live show, he quit the band all together. pretty cool thing to do after 40 years in Kraftwerk, go solo.
I now think the curtain may be rented city to city, and this is why it’s problematic. before I imagined it as part of their traveling “set”.
I was so wrong about “Music Non Stop”. Upon inspection of the rather amazing video that was shot that night at the Fillmore it becomes clear that the songs ends with uncanny precision just as Ralf’s foot hits his mark on the other side of the stage for his bow. Precision.
Kraftwerk are still on tour and are heading back to Europe from Latin America for more dates and festivals. As far as a new look/style, some things have changed slightly in the concerts such as mixes and sonics, some video elements, but it’s still the same Kraftwerk show that you can see on the Minimum Maximum DVD they put out a few years ago. I’m totally cool with it, I’d rather get good old Kraftwerk than some crazy new wacky concept, let Florian do that.
Also, I was going to change the last sentence because it it’s nonsensical and I’m really not sure what I was getting at. I left it in for drunken posterity.
March 20, 2009
Somebody wrote to me on Facebook asking if I would write something about my take on screw music, and I thought that sounded like a worthwhile thing to do. I am so not an expert of the genre, but I love it very much and have done a certain amount of research on it so let me see what I can come up with.
First, what is Screw music? Screw is a short hand name for “Screwed and Chopped”. We are talking about hip hop music here, specifically rap music from Houston Texas, but Screw has safely entered the mainstream and almost all new southern rap records have some element of the style. “Screwing down” the music means that it is slowed down, almost to half speed, thus creating an ominous, demonic feel, especially with the rappers voices. “Chopping” the track refers to a certain style of DJ technique, also known as cutting, where two copies of the same record are played at the same time, slightly out of sync yet still in time, and the DJ cuts the fader back and forth creating a stuttering, syncopated repetition in the beat. Then layer a good amount of swooshing flange, chorus, and phasing to the mix and voila, sounds like Screw Music.
The young man who innovated this style of DJing in the mid 90′s was a Houston native named DJ Screw. He was a prolific DJ and produced hundreds if not thousands of mix tapes that he used to solidify his reputation as the true pioneer of the style. Unfortunately Screw died from an overdose of prescription cough medicine, know commonly as “Syrup”, “Oil”, “Purple”, or just simply “Drank”. Drinking syrup is at epidemic levels these days, but it’s still championed in much southern rap music. I’ve never tried it but I know someone who nearly died from it. He said it was one of the scariest feelings of his life.
I’ve heard some rappers and producers from the Houston scene say that Screw music reflects the lifestyle in Houston, it’s often so hot that people move slower, they drive slower, and they talk slower. Car culture factors in to the equation too, with Screw music being the best, and most bass heavy music to “bang” on a high end customized sound system.
Screwed and Chopped is considered by most hip hop aficionados to be the first form of truly psychedelic rap music to emerge. Some challenge that by pointing at early Day La Soul, but they weren’t really psychedelic, they just dressed like hippies.
I could put a whole list of names of rappers and producers here for you to check out but I will only suggest DJ Screw, Screwed Up Click, Swisha House/DJ Micheal Watts and then you can go nuts from there with youtube and google. I will add that in my most humble opinion the most elegant, deep, and straight up moving example of the style is DJ Michael Watt’s version of David Banner’s “Mississippi Album”. Mind blowing.
So there you go, I hope you check it out because it is part of our cultural landscape here in Texas, and don’t even get me going about “Screwmbia”, that’s right, psychedelic screwed up cumbia music! It’s so fresh you can’t even google it…
That’s all I got, enjoy, and please stay away from Purple Drink!!
January 11, 2009
First up I hope everyone kind of figured out by now that the story below is just that, a story. I did indeed go to Mexico to DJ and I did hang out with the lovely ladies at Hooters in Cancun (there’s three of them by the way, if that tells you anything about how gross and Americanized Cancun is) and almost everyone I mentioned is real. Nobody died though, in fact I’m friends with the Hooters girl on myspace! I don’t know if it was a good idea to use all real names, but I would never have come up with “Fernanda” on my own.
Some insight into the story. I was with my family in Cancun and was initially absolutely disgusted with the place. It seemed like the worst place I had ever been, aside from parts of Dallas. The Hooters was literally the only place in the hotel zone that was not some raging cheese fest of terrible techno and yard long drinks. All the stuff about being treated differently for speaking Spanish is true. At the Hooters a few of the girls really seemed curious about Austin and San Antonio and it’s all pretty much as I described it below. Fernanda was a flirt, but we never went on any dates. And if you thought that any of the romantic stuff I wrote seemed realistic, um, I don’t know what to tell you… All I can say is go back and read it again. You will see that it is actually not a tragedy at all, but a really poorly written comedy!! Gentle Mexican music coming in the window? Her last words on earth, to me, you are so nice? Come on, the whole romance and death part is ridiculous!! If you have ever been to Mexico you know there is no such thing as gentle Mexican music, it’s all shrinkingly loud trumpets and turbo bass cumbias. Some Mexican Hooters girl just invites me over to her apartment? I’m sorry if you bought it, and all I can say is don’t believe everything you read on the Internet, especially if it’s written by me!
I will add this: The element of death in the story is not without foundation, nothing in the story is. I was eating dinner with my parents in San Antonio a few weeks before the trip and my mom mentioned that about ten years ago her and my dad had seen a small boy killed by a car in Cancun. She was clearly still upset about it and briefly described the scene, with the boy’s mother holding the dead child, crying. It was very sad and I didn’t want to hear about it. It seemed too dark a topic for discussion at a lively downtown restaurant. Plus I hate seeing my mom upset.
What my parents had witnessed stuck with me, what a tragic thing, and while you are supposed to be on vacation… One evening in Cancun my mom, dad and my brother and I took a taxi into the downtown part of the city to find a more earthy place to eat. As we crossed a road my mom said that this was where they had seen the accident. Wow. At dinner my parents speculated that the boy would be 17 or 18 by now. We spent a few moments sadly reflecting on a person we never knew, and a mother’s enduring sadness at the loss of her son. I didn’t have the same urge to shush my mom from being morbid this time. I kind of felt part of it.
So that’s why I killed off Fernanda (perdon Fernanda si tu eres leyendo!). It took me forever to connect the horror that my mom had described and what I was writing. For a minute I thought I wasn’t going to finish the story at all, and that really bothered me. At first I thought about some Woody Allen-esqe comedy of errors, missed connections, poor communication, and unrequited love left behind in Mexico. That seemed too light weight for my sensibilities. Then I thought about having Fernanda turn out to be a transexual, as I had mentioned the number of high end tranny hookers hanging around Cancun in an earlier part of the story. Fernanda, Fernando, get it? My brother, upon consultation, was pushing for this ending, but hooking up with a transexual was also far from the tragic scene I was searching for. It would have been pointless, I wouldn’t have cared and we probably would have gone clubbing and exchanged emails. Again, not intense enough for the stories’ needs.
The first version of the epilogue was much more silly, with references to bullfighting and general stereotypes of a dangerous, bloody and wild Mexico. Then I came back to the car accident that my mom had described to me and I had it. As I read back I decided to strip the corny stuff and go for the gusto, although I still think there are way too many clues in there that it was a fictional description of my last night in Mexico. If that shit really happened to me I would be homeless, wandering the streets of Cancun in rags, drunk, insane, searching for the ghost of a beloved dead girl and generally annoying the tourists with my filth. That’s just how I am when it comes to love.
The other night my Uruguayan home girl Valaria from Hooters added me on myspace and I was thrilled. As I looked through her pictures everyone was there, Fernanda, Jorge the manager, all the pretty ladies from Hooters. It was actually really nice, sort of uplifting, because even though I laughed out loud at my own story many times, a certain part of my imagination had embraced what I wrote, allowing me to feel sort of sad about an event that never occurred. Does that happen to other writers? Because it happens to me a lot.
The truth is I had a great fucking time all over the Yucatan. It was an amazing trip and my initial disdain for Cancun subsided after a few tequila shots and it was really mellow with my folks. The worst thing that happened to me in Mexico was pretty much just dealing with getting in and then later out of bed.
So again I wanted to make that clear. Reality based creative writing is what I do. I dedicate the story to my friends at Hooters, especially Fernanda, and also to the nameless boy that actually did die in his mother’s arms after being hit by a car all those years ago. What the hell, I’ll go ahead and dedicate it to my mom too, she’s damn good for the morbidity, great inspiration!
December 22, 2008
It seems my first pro ana (pro anorexia) thinspirational piece was a hit so I would like to follow up with some thoughts and then I want to discuss the effects of TV on diet.
First off I am not pro anorexia, I am simply trying to not be fat by any means necessary, except exercise or to stop drinking beer. I mean, I walk around a lot, I live on the 3rd floor and I never sit down if I don’t have to. I am standing at the kitchen bar as I write this. So I wanted to add never sit down to my list of techniques to stay thin.
Now here’s where I’m going to come really hard with the seriousness about what will occur over the next week or so. Yes I’m talking about the holidays. Not the cool ones like Kwanzaa or Hanukkah. No, I’m talking about mind numbingly stupid Christmas. First off there is no god and Jesus never existed. Sorry, but it’s true. I’m not here to talk religion though, I’m here to talk weight loss, but knowing the whole premise of the thing is ridiculous to begin with might help in resisting the many and varied temptations that the season brings.
Remember, food is our enemy and should never be considered comforting. If you take some sort of “comfort” in food you’re probably already fucked and I doubt I can help you. Food exists for only two reasons. 1st so that we don’t die and 2nd to make us fat. So it’s basically a razor’s edge- a balance between life and chubbiness. I choose life begrudgingly in this case because I am trying to be thin and all my heartbreak has worn off and I’m back to simply deciding whimsically who I will hook it up with at any given moment. Without the luxury of heartbreak, dieting becomes that much more difficult.
So over the next week all the food freaks are going to start plying you with all kinds of seemingly delectable treats. But remember that the people who are pushing the food on you want you to be fat, because it will make them feel better for not looking good in the club anymore. They want you to suffer the consequences of over indulging- funny looks at Beauty Bar and no tight pants. I swear if I couldn’t wear my tight pants in the disco I’d be fucking outraged! Keep that in mind.
Back to this notion of comfort food. What’s so comfortable about indigestion and bloating? Collective belching and farting? Yuck, count me out. I say indulge your rebellious side by not going along with the gastronomic clo-fo and just sit back and enjoy how infuriating it is to all your relatives that you have chosen instead to be thin over gassy. They will be so pissed and hopefully that will provide you with even more thinspo. Nothing more satisfying than quietly annoying friends and family with your slim silhouette.
Lastly re. the holidays I would like to address the concept that it’s normal or OK to overindulge just because it’s Christmas. No, it’s not. Again that’s just corporate propaganda so you will buy more boxed stuffing and other useless shit at the discount store. Overindulgence is always just that, it’s obnoxious and gluttonous so just don’t do it. Plus, you’ll get fat and that is what we are not talking about doing here.
Lastly I want to talk about TV. I firmly believe that watching TV greatly contributes to not only mental decay, but weight gain. The only time I ever want a BBQ Chick’n Popper Crispy Dunker or whatever is when the TV is on. It’s designed to keep you craving gross highly fattening junk food and you don’t have to look far to see the amazing effects it has on the American population. I just saw two really interesting studies published in the last few weeks. One claimed that less young people are watching TV. I believe it because the internet and going out is way better! The other claimed that unhappy people watch more TV. I believe that too because it’s mostly so dark and boring. I put my TV away (as in away in the closet) several months ago and I can safely say that the quality of my life has improved greatly. I feel smarter not knowing all the stupid shit they want me to believe I need to know about. It’s so repetitive and dull and aside from Sarah Silverman’s beautiful breasts, I mean eyes, I find watching TV on any kind of schedule to be the domain of the incredibly boring, and usually corpulent. You put 2 and 2 together and it does not add up to thin.
I’m going to go off on TV culture and addicts soon but I mainly wanted to draw the parallel to weight gain and heavy TV watching. They don’t say couch banana, they said couch potato, and they said it for a reason. When you sit around watching TV all the time you begin to take the shape of a Russet potato, and my friends, if you are looking for thinspiration I just don’t know what other motivation I can give beside the image of a lethargic, misshapen human sitting alone in the TV’s glow, eating brownies while watching a McDonald’s commercial about ice cream and rubbery meat. TV is Death Culture’s version of Twitter, soooo not conducive to losing weight and in my humble opinion it is to be avoided at all costs. Try it, I dare you. Most people are so conditioned to revere the TV that they can’t even conceive of turning it off for a week, but that’s middle America for you!
Let me recap. Never sit down if you can avoid it. Lay down only to sleep or get freaky, but that too can be done standing up and then it kind of becomes like dancing or a sexual performance art (thinning!!!). Beware of your relatives at the holidays. They want you fat so they don’t feel fat – Don’t give in to the urge to over indulge just because the shopping mall told you too. And lastly, do your body and your mind a favor and quit TV. I shit you not I have been living this lifestyle for some time now and I am back to a size 32 Levi, down from a 33. That’s not my disco pants size though, those are like a 30.
Be strong! Fight food! Remember, food is to be looked at with a steely and determined glaze in your eye. Sorry I said glaze. Food is primarily for babies and the elderly, because who cares if they are fat, right? We, however have more primordial concerns (like hooking it up in the disco, looking good at Emo’s, getting our own reality show etc.) so I wish every one luck in the face of the disgusting feasting adversity, and seriously, if you want to squash your hunger pangs just look around the table at the gluttony and gorging in effect. Drool and slime dripping off their faces as they stuff themselves with fat and lard and cake. Three words:
Gross. Fuck that.
Good luck in the coming days, that is if you are lucky or rich enough to participate. Look around in this season of “merryment” (yeah right, that is if you are not sick, lonely, broke, etc.) and think about what I have said. Ask yourself how many stupid conversations revolve around Geraldo Rivera and Oprah. Watch the culinary orgy unfold around you but know you are above it, you can overcome!!
December 15, 2008
I know it’s been a while since I last blogged, I just haven’t been feeling very bloggy. I don’t feel bloggy now, either. I’m doing this out of some sense of obligation… Just as some are compelled to drink, I am compelled to blog. And drink, so here we go.
So what’s new. I’m getting my hair cut. I know, I know, it’s just getting glorious. I’ve achieved a sort of late 70′s David Lee Roth look which is at times pretty awesome. The rest of the time it sucks. I have no peripheral vision, It takes forever to dry which in turn makes me wash it less resulting in more of a stringy Kurt Cobain kind of vibe. Not cool! I have always had an aversion to getting my hair professionally cut, ever since I was a kid. I am intrinsically defiant so just feeling pressured or obligated to do it would piss me right off. There was even a time when I said fuck it completely and let my hair grow into dreads. At this point I am so annoyed by my long hair that I am tempted to get dreads again, even though I am opposed to Rastafarian religious beliefs. I do however sympathize with some of their social and cultural views (not the gay hating ones) and whether we like it or not I am, deep inside, a natty, Congo bongo I dread straight from Yard. If you don’t know what that means there are plenty of Patois guides on the Internet that you can refer to. Or should I say “reefer” to… Sorry. Oh OK, it means that deep inside I am a dread locked rasta who in essence is the spirit of an African drum and I want to beat down Babylon and roam the open country with no police, curfews, or 3 am road blocks, and I am from Jamaica. Seen? I am actually from Ireland, which not unlike Jamaica is a small island with a tumultuous political past and we island people just sort of relate to each other. It’s the same with Bermudians, I feel like I know them.
But I digress… No I will not grow dreads again, although I feel like it. I’m going to have a “consultation” with a “stylist” and I will explain to her (I hope it’s a her) that I am incredibly low maintenance (lazy) when it comes to things like hair yet I want to look somewhat cool. I deferred to a friend of mine about what I should do, I asked her if I should go for 80′s skateboarder hair or 70′s surfer guy hair. She simply replied “Gross”. I found that confusing because I thought everyone loved surfer hair. I will not get any type of cut that involves having to use gel. There will be no defying of gravity when it comes to my head. No faux-hawks, no buzz cuts, nothing metro sexual. I want a straight up dude hairstyle that matches my Chuck Taylor’s and Levi’s. What will happen? I’m nervous… Not to mention I have a couple of big DJ gigs coming up soon and I don’t want to look like a jerk with a shitty hair cut, now do I?
In regards to affairs of the heart (because I know that’s what you really like reading about) I am still pining for the far away girl with black hair who doesn’t even call me anymore. It’s OK though, because I have been able to double up, actually triple up on the pining because there have been a few other distractions lately… A few very pretty distractions of the bad ass tattooed variety. One of the girls I’m secretly crushing on right now used to hate me, but a failed attempt at living in NYC seems to have humbled her formerly charged and anti-me disposition. I have only seen her once since she came back and she was sporting a real “fuck you mom and dad” type tattoo. A good sign, because I am the ultimate “fuck you mom and dad” type of guy to bring home. You see, women love pissing off their parents. When, as a guy, one realizes this simple truth, the path to a decent left behind thong collection becomes more clear. The only catch with her though, is that I have not seen her drunk yet. That was part of the problem in the past, and I wonder if cold, hard New York City kicked the nasty drunk out of her too… I’ll let you know if/when I find out. She’s fucking cute!!
The other girl… This one is good too because yet again I am able to apply my uncanny intuition and insight into female psychology and behavior. As some may know, I have a certain thing for strong women. I mean physically strong women. Like Zena Warrior Princess mixed up with some Robert Crumb style fetishism if you know of what I speak…
So I dig tough chicks with muscles, tattoos, bad attitudes and pretty faces. Can you blame me? Here’s the thing though, I am so not a submissive. I never really understood why I was so attracted to these bad girls that are stereotypically considered man eating, dominatrix type ball breakers. I don’t want to call anyone “Mistress” or act like a dog or anything, although I might indulge in some low level toe licking if it comes up. I one time had a woman command me to get on my knees (it seemed that she thought I wanted to be dominated or something) and I was like, “Fuck off”. Anyway, where am I going with this? Let me get back on track…
So, I like tough, bad ass bitches but I am not submissive is the conclusion I came to. It seemed like a difficult situation to rectify, in terms of some serious making out. But then, like a lighting strike something occurred to me while having a phone conversation with such a woman as I have described. She’s a friend and we have worked together in the past. She’s about 6 feet in heels and sports a pair of mega guns (biceps) and could easily crush a human scull with her thighs. She has a chest tattoo and a few others… She’s a real live roller queen who takes no shit from anyone, ever. She is also very funny and ultimately a sweet heart, in the way some pit bulls can be funny sweet hearts.
So we were talking about some of her friends relationships and it dawned on me that just because a woman is tough does not immediately make her a natural dominant. In fact, many of these tough women are secretly lusting to be dominated, to submit. I’m talking sex here, not simple mind games, although that’s part of it. I nearly hit my head on the ceiling when I realized that I wanted to be the dominant one! Now don’t get me wrong, I know for a fact that some of those women seriously get a thrill out of beating the shit out of some wimpy guy while wearing stilettos, and I’m not suggesting that women are naturally more submissive than men. This is really more a comment about my own sexual psychology than theirs.
It’s very similar to the old stereotype of men, rich macho business men in positions of power and great authority, that these are the type of men who want the services of a Dominatrix. Could it be similar with the tough chicks? At the end of the day I think a lot of women really do like to feel pretty, beautiful, soft, good smelling. Not all, obviously, but what I discovered is that just because she’s hell on wheels and a muscular punk rock bruiser doesn’t mean that she doesn’t crave to be, how can I say this politely… Taken.
Here’s where it gets good… Based on my revelation that I was inherently not submissive, possibly kind of the opposite, and that many tough chicks are actually pussy cats, and given that I am attracted to tough chicks, I decided to put an experiment into action.
I was loft sitting in San Antonio last week and decided to invite my pretty, tattooed friend out for a night of downtown SA fun. I live in Austin but I fucking love San Antonio, especially downtown. She was up for it and we made plans for her to come over and hang out. FYI, I will not talk about actual sex here, just psychology. A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell and I abide by that rule, most of the time, but don’t worry it’s still pretty juicy… I had cleverly stocked up on beer and hard liquor at the place, and I knew we would at some point hit up my favorite bar in SA, Logan’s, where many a wine skin is drained and the music has cojones. Basically my strategy was to get her wasted, or somewhere in the vicinity of wasted. That’s logical and pretty much step 1 on any date. I knew she had been stressed out at work and needed some distraction so the night would be easy, fun, and hopefully get a bit kinky at some point.
Long story short, we had a great night. Note to guys – It’s not easy getting a roller girl drunk, pace yourself, trust me on this one. So while there was no leather mask, whips or verbal abuse I can safely say that with some gentle yet firm direction I saw a different side to my, for all intensive purposes, terrifying yet very atractive female friend. Everyone knows that she is hot, but I’m here to tell you she is beautiful and has a warm soft voice that is obviously useless at derby practice or while trying to score drinks at Jackalope. I don’t want to imply that there was some big porno sex scene because there wasn’t. Well not exactly, but again my lips are sealed. In my one concession to something close to submission, I asked her (told her) to flex for me. She did. Insert cartoon “Boing!” sound effect here.
There you have it. In summary, ladies, don’t be afraid to be tough! Some of us bros love it!! Also, guys, just because she’s tough doesn’t mean that she doesn’t want you to take charge and put the smack down on that ass, Mexican wrestler style. Also guys, I urge caution if you choose to experiment with this like I did – you can and probably will get seriously hurt, so take it easy and have an escape route planned. This is not a joke, do not fuck around with tough chicks, especially roller girls because they will kill you and have their friends help them cover up the murder. This shit is real! All too real, but kind of awesome and sexy and I’m here to tell you that with a little effort and a lot of booze it is very possible to have your Zena cake and eat it too.
* This post highly influenced by the song “Roller Queen” by the Lifters. They fucking rock right out of south Austin Texas.. You can find them on myspace here:
And as always, much respect to: