Permanent Historical Record: 04/01/08
Repeating...
As will happen sometimes at the end of a month, DNA posted something yesterday, and just wasn't ready for it to go to the blog graveyard. So, he copied it in its entirety to kick off April. This isn't DNA being lazy. DNA really liked that old post, it was just like a post to him...
So, here it is:
DNA and his wife don't get to watch movies all that often, and when we do, it's rare that we agree on one that we both like. Only a couple of movies we have rented lately, like Stardust, or Enchanted, actually appealed to both of us. I Am Legend appealed a little, until the chick and the kid shows up, but everybody on the internet who tries to express an opinion about movies has already talked about that, so DNA won't add to the search engines' results if someone types in "Will Smith" "Legend" "Ending Sucks Donkey Balls" (yields approximately 20,000 hits).
DNA isn't about movie reviews anyway. What DNA likes in movies most people do not. Also, DNA really likes some movies that are really bad by anyone's approximation. DNA really has no taste in movies. However, music in movies is something that DNA pays close attention to.
DNA has long felt that movie soundtracks were little more than silver marketing machines for bad movies. Does your movie suck? Put a bunch of well-liked classic songs on it, and it becomes a retro collection. Or, gather up a bunch of indie bands dying for a little more mainstream exposure, and you gain street cred for your dogshit movie. But, every once in awhile, the soundtrack makes the movie, or works in perfect harmony (couldn't resist) with the visual elements of the movie.
DNA watched a movie yesterday which sucked. It was called Southland Tales. Don't go see it. It was supposed to be awesome, directed by a visionary director, chock full of the coolest and most unusual ensemble cast, but in a case of David Lynchian proportions of not being able to live up to its hype, it was a two and a half hour weird-a-thon. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but after a little while, seeing the bizarre and only understanding part of why its bizarre gets annoying. As much as you might like vignettes, characters, or individual scenes, the actual movie falls apart. Sure sign a movie sucks dogshit: When one of the characters has to provide a voiceover for most of the movie to make sure the audience "gets" the otherwise convoluted and and unnecessarily quirky, moody and metaphorical plot. DNA doesn't want to spoil it for you, in case you watch it despite this stern warning: DON'T!!! But, some of you might like watching Duane "the Rock" Johnson die. Whoops, sorry about that reveal.
Well, if you watched it, then DNA is sure you agree, it sucked. But, one thing that did not suck was the music. In fact, there is one point, near the end, in which music takes center stage, so to speak. First, Rebekah Del Rio (yes, sounds like a porn star name, but it is not) knocks out a version of the Star Spangled Banner which gives Jimmy Hendrix's version a run for its money as the coolest version ever. DNA ain't lyin. Go to iTunes and look up the soundtrack, and listen to 30 seconds of it. You will be sold. Or watch this scene from the movie:
Also, Sarah Michelle Gellar does a terrific job on a song called "Teen Horniness Is Not A Crime."
It's hard to reinvent a classic, but Rebekah did. What do you think?
Permanent Historical Record: 04/07/08
He's Back!
DNA doesn't spend a lot of time surfing the internet. He has several places he always goes; he always checks on the multi-millions of dollars his music is generating for him on iTunes, CD Baby! and through the Snocap store on the myspace page, for example. He flits about the internet to check out a few blogs, does a random search or two for some porn catchphrases, but always checks back to see one website in particular:
Monstee's Cave
Monstee has a certain take on the world, the take of a blue furry monster who talks like Yoda but every once in a while fucks the knotholes in telephone poles. He's like one of the monsters from the book, "Where the Wild Things Are" if the wild things got stoned and drank a lot of vodka, and instead of doing the bidding of the boy Max from the book, he let Max sleep and buggered his mom downstairs. DNA guesses that would make Monstee a lovable pervert. DNA has known Monstee for many years, and in fact, as DNA has said before, it was Monstee who was primarily responsible for getting him to start his own website.
Monstee had been gone for awhile, but has resumed posting, at least for the time being. Be happy, internet! Monstee is back. You know Monstee has got to be cool if he is the subject of someone else's web comic.
(used without permission. Ripped right from Blunt Cogs if you must know)
Once you're on either Monstee's website or on Blunt Cogs, take some time and look around. You will be glad you did.
DNA wishes he had a web comic. Oh wait, he does....Flamin' Guitars is a comic, and it's on the motherfucking web! So there, everybody else who has a web comic!
Permanent Historical Record: 04/17/08
Inspiration...
DNA has written two songs in the last two weeks. One was inspired by two of his friends getting married. He's not going to debut it until after it is completely done.
This week, DNA has done the songwriting, and needs to get the recording done, on a song inspired by a student he knows at the University. It's called, "I Saw Jared," and as soon as I get the melody right, I will debut it here. DNA thinks it will be getting enough songs done in June/July to complete the next album.
DNA expects that the infamous 4th of July party at Craig and Berts will hold a surprise or two for DNA and his friends....DNA has been inspired to write a song for that, too.
School has been kicking DNA's ass for awhile, so the posts have been pretty thin. DNA is building up a couple of features: One on some new bands he has been listening to, and two on some good old stories of the Carbondale music scene.
So, give DNA a break, check out some of the archives while the current stuff is thin, and at least DNA will try to put up some new band photos on the front page more often (about once a week or so, right now).
Permanent Historical Record: 04/28/08
Just Another Day...
The guys in Oingo Boingo summed it up pretty well, as a statement about the inanities of life, the futility of living. "Just another day" is as chilling as T.S. Elliot's "I have measured out my life in coffee spoons" from "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," without being pretentious or hard to approach. Maybe it's more chilling, because people outside of English departments have actually heard of Oingo Boingo. Well, that may not be true anymore. Oingo Boingo aren't really what they used to be.
Was today just another day for you? Really? Well, it wasn't for DNA. Today marks the second anniversary of his mom's death. This weekend, DNA got to do some rock climbing. DNA is fat and out of shape. It's not often mother nature slaps your ass around for it, though. DNA got to meet his new nephew from Nepal, Suresh. DNA's wife's sister, husband, and new son came to visit from Alaska. DNA got to buy cool toys for Suresh. The program where DNA works had its 30th anniversary celebration, in which students and staff from all over the country came back to celebrate being part of a very special group of people. If indeed this was just another day, perhaps it is because any day can be extraordinary. Maybe "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times" would be a more apt aphorism, but that seems a little too bi-polar for DNA.
At lunch, DNA wolfed down a big tortilla chip and it got stuck in his throat, too far and too hard to cough back up. The airway was clear, but DNA could feel the little corn shuriken cutting the inside of his throat as it was lodged in there. DNA didn't panic, and tried to swallow some water, but it wasn't budging, and it was hurting. So, DNA tried to chuck it up. In the course of the first heave, as one does, he tightened his throat for the hurl, and heard the chip "crack." Then, it went down, and like the ice berg that ripped the Titanic's hull, the tortilla continued to slice down each side of his esophagus. It really hurt.
After the painful experience, DNA asked his departed mom if that wouldn't have been the strangest shit if he had checked out on the same day as his mom? She didn't respond.
The only thing that separates you from DNA is experience. Our experiences are different, so what is a strange or unusual day for DNA is not for you, or vice versa. Experience is all subjective, it depends on so many things, yet it is the sum of this imperfect information gathering process we call living which makes us saints or serial killers, or both.
Here are a couple of moments in DNA's life, fond recollections of his mom, that might bring a little bit of his experience to you.
DNA's mom was born in 1924. She remembered what the Great Depression was like firsthand. She taught herself to read before she was in kindergarten. She would take the trolley to the Milwaukee Public Library with her sister. She looked over her sister's shoulder while her sister read, and figured it out. She went to the Chicago World's Fair. She was a member of the Women's Air Corps during WWII, and taught pilots how to fly by instruments alone (blind flying) in a LINK trainer in Brownsville, Texas. She worked crossword puzzles her whole life, loved big band music, graduated from college, was divorced in the 1950's, (scandalous) played the upright bass in school, was a stamp collector, was active in her church, loved to unsweetened ice tea from an earthenware mug, and was a chain smoker for most of her life. One day she decided quit smoking, and she did it. That was a small exercise in the willpower she had at her disposal. She was funny, political, probably the smartest person DNA will ever know, but also, at times, too provincial, racially prejudiced in some of her fears, and a little too passive-aggressive.
She had told DNA that early in her life, she had had a conversation with God, and God told her that she would die comfortably in her sleep in her old age. This is kind of a strange conversation to have with your mom, but mom was adamant that just like a phone call, the words had been crystal clear.
Mom died sitting comfortably in her home, in the house she lived in for over 50 years, in her comfy chair, one evening after she had fell asleep. She was 82.
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