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http://www.swanfungus.com/
You will find what you are looking for there.
Monday, November 03, 2008
Sunday, November 02, 2008
SUNDAY MIX TAPE - NUMBER 117
Hey, in case you haven't noticed, my website broke. I don't even know if anyone will be able to read this, but have no fear, I'm trying to fix things. And by that I mean I'm crying and jerking off and submitting questions to support forums across the Internet, and waiting for some kind soul to help me. The page might be fixed at any moment, or it might never be fixed. Who the fuck knows, really?
By the way, if anybody reading this knows anything about WordPress, Blogger, 1and1, and subdomains, now would be a really good time to e-mail me and offer your assistance.
Now here's a mix tape. The theme is, can anybody hear this?
RULES for uninitiated noobs: With roughly 100MB of webspace, I give birth to a weekly Mix Tape to be deposited on your iPods or Zunes or Kingklangs or whatever the industry is currently pushing on you. Sometimes there will be themes that link all the songs together, other times I'll just throw songs at a wall (not literally) and see what sticks. As always, these songs will be removed if desired by the band or those who represent them. Let me know and I will gladly comply. The goal of this endeavor, as always, is to pique your interest in these artists so you'll support the artists and buy their albums.
Sunday Mix Tape Number 117
"I'm In The Mountains, I'll Call You Next Year"
Tracklist:
01. Unwound - Caterpillar
02. Dinosaur Jr - What Else Is New?
03. The Jesus Lizard - Waxeater
04. Kevin Ayers - Lady Rachel
05. William Basinski - Cobalt Pools
06. Bark Psychosis - Big Shot
07. Albert Ayler - Heart Love
08. Deerhoof - Milking
09. Alice Cooper - Raped And Freezin'
10. Blur - Globe Alone
11. Einsturzende Neubauten - Negativ Nein
12. Mark Lanegan - Woe
13. Aphex Twin - To Cure A Weakling Child
14. Danielson Famile - My Lion Sleeps Tonight
15. Michael Gira - Purple Creek
16. The Beta Band - Inner Meet Me
17. PJ Harvey - A Place Called Home
18. Faust - So Far
19. Prurient - December Man
20. Cat Power - You May Know Him
21. Air Conditioning - Citizen's Band / I'm In The Mountains, I'll Call You Next Year
Saturday, November 01, 2008
Welcome Back Squatter
I am once again on the West Coast. I arrived here maybe five hours ago, and I am quite exhausted right now. How did I get here? I don't know. No, wait. I got here by airplane. After waking up this morning I went to my father's for a fresh bagel, because if I'm going to spend several hours soaring at 37,000 feet, you damn well better feed me a bagel, unless you want me to wind up a quivering, anxiety-ridden mess. The Xanax also helps control that. At some point during the last four or five years, I've transformed into a bad air traveler. Whereas I used to find turbulence eerily enjoyable, and ask to sit by the window so that I could watch the ground disappear and reappear, now I am nauseated by the slightly rattle, and long to see the ground at all times. It doesn't help that whenever I fly these days I'm seated near crackpots and fat asses and smelly motherfuckers. My anxiety also only rears its ugly head when I fly alone. Sit me next to someone who is amiable and talkative and I am fine. Sit me next to a hard-ass with no social skills, and it will send my nerves into severe overdrive.
The flight actually wasn't so bad. Yeah, I was sitting next to an overweight guy whose arms covered both of the arm rests, and his fatty thighs kept rubbing against me, and he was fucking sniffling the entire time, which threw my hypochondria into hyper-consciousness...but the time between take-off and landing was quite smooth! Of course, the pilot thought himself a bit of a maverick (apologies for the McCain-ism), and saw nothing wrong with turning the entire aircraft rapidly in mid-air while we were still rising off the ground (in order to face us towards California, instead of Europe). He also decided that, rather than take the plane down slowly, it would be easier to just drop several hundred feet at a time, so that my stomach spent the last twenty minutes of the flight sitting firmly in the back of my throat. It was like a Tower Of Terror ride. Gross.
I watched Rebel Without A Cause, took what felt like the longest piss of my life, then slept through the majority of Wall-E. In my dream, I was strangling the fat guy next to me for making me feel so claustrophobic. If I'm stricken with a cold this week, I know exactly who I'm going to blame.
...Myself, I guess.
Now I'm sitting on Nicci's couch, yawning and preparing to drive home and pass out. I hope you all enjoy your extra hour of sleep tonight. God knows I'm going to make the most of it.
The migration from Blogger to Wordpress is almost complete. I just hope I don't screw everything up and lose all my archives. I tend to use the "trial and error" method when it comes to confusing directions, so if I accidentally delete the entire blog...please accept this "Whoops! Sorry!" as an apology in advance.
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Kenneth Higney - Attic Demonstration
Attic Demonstration featured Higney on vocals and electric guitar, with an ad-hoc band consisting of Higney's personal friends Gordon Gaines (guitars, drums), John Duva (bass guitar), and Mark Volpe (guitar, percussion). It had a limited release of 500 copies in September 1976, and earned a favourable review in Trouser Press magazine, but was not a commercial success. It was re-mastered and re-released by Higney's own label, Kebrutney Records, in 2003.
The remaster also included Higney's only other commercial release, the 1980 seven-inch single "I Wanna be the King", b/w "Funky Kinky". The former song was a tribute to New York Dolls guitarist and punk legend Johnny Thunders, and contained the line "I'm gonna be a star / I hate the sissy music of John Denver", whilst the latter was a foray into the world of disco. Both songs were written by Higney, and featured Gordon Gaines and Mark Volpe, plus John Lynch (bass guitar). Gaines died in 1997.
Kenneth Higney
Attic Demonstration
MediaFire Download Link
Tracklist:
01. Night Rider
02. Children Of Sound
03. Rock Star
04. Can't Love That Woman
05. Look At The River
06. Quietly Leave Me
07. Let Us Pray
08. I'll Cry Tomorrow
09. No Heavy Trucking
10. Funky Kinky
11. I Wanna Be The King
This recording posted under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 3.0 United States license.
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Friday, October 31, 2008
East Coast Nights: Day 10
I forgot to post one other video yesterday. Here's drunk Katie smacking herself in the face with a full glass of whiskey and Coke. A few minutes later, I smacked myself in the teeth with the same glass. If you needed any more evidence of how plastered we were, look no further than this video.
My last day at home was mostly boring, then largely entertaining, then a little depressing. I will now recount the events of the day for your in the manner with which I am most comfortable: another stupid blog post. By the way, this page is about to move to the more powerful, more exciting Wordpress engine. If all goes according to plan, within the next week you'll have all kinds of crazy new things to play with, like the ability to create a personalized account to leave comments (complete with avatars!). I will also be able to dole out sub-accounts for those of you who desire to create your own posts for this page. Yup, things are about to get much more interactive around here. Hell, the header image might actually remain centered across all operating systems, browsers and screen settings! Stay tuned!
I awoke, as I am wont to do, too early. I feel like -- even though I've been on vacation for ten days -- I haven't even once gotten a full night of sleep. My days still begin at 9:00am, even if I spend all my time daydreaming about sleeping in and waking up in the middle of the afternoon. My internal clock is so fucked up (and by fucked up I mean its operating on a perfectly normal schedule) I can no longer sleep for twelve or thirteen hours a day, like when I was unemployed. After rising from bed and stumbling downstairs, I toasted myself a bagel and grabbed a bottle of water. Then I sat on the couch and tried to answer some e-mails and fix this here website. I scanned a bunch of old 'zines, which will be posted this coming week. I scanned a funny item that I want to submit to Found Magazine. I printed my boarding pass. Then I showered and dressed.
I spent all afternoon watching TV like a pathetic piece of shit with nothing better to do with his time. I guess I could have been writing, but Night Of The Living Dead was on, and I found it kind of inspiring. I can't explain away the other four hours I spent stapled to my seat watching mindless drivel...but I've been running around seeing people for nine days; I'm allowed a day of rest.
At five o'clock I hopped in my [mother's] car and headed down the Parkway to Sam and Lindsey's house. They were happy to see me. I picked them up and we drove to the Chipotle on Route-1. Upon arriving at the fast-food joint, we quickly noticed there was a huge line, and that everyone inside was wearing tinfoil. The girls standing in front of us asked me to take some photos of them, and I learned that Chipotle was giving away free burritos to anyone who came dressed as a burrito. The rules were a bit vague. It appeared that all one had to do was affix a random piece of tinfoil to their body and they would be eligible for a free burrito. A young girl dressed as an elf, with silly little elf ears, must have heard my complaints about not having known this in advance, and she walked over and handed the three of us piece of tinfoil she had wrapped around her arms and torso. I molded a small piece of foil to my head, Sam fashioned a headband, and Lindsey made a necklace. That was all we need to get three free burritos. The only thing better than a Chipotle burrito? A free Chipotle burrito.
We retired to Sam and Lindsey's place, played with the dogs, took some photographs, and watched a Louie C.K. stand-up special. Then I drove home, packed my things, and went to meet Jack and Ken at the diner. It was a good way to cap my trip home. I depart in the morning, I'll be back in L.A. tomorrow afternoon. I'll try to post something interesting tomorrow night.
Hey, I hope if any of you reading this website chose to use one of my Halloween costume ideas this year, you'll provide me with a photograph of your costume. Considering my average number of unique visitors this week hovered around 950 per day (most of which were referred by my top ten costumes list), I'd be very sad if none of you dressed up as dead Heath Ledger or a rapist. Very, very sad.
Assemble Head In Sunburst Sound - The Corner Zombies
Leonard Cohen - Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye
Pocahaunted - No More Women
Quieting Syrup - Passwords To A Fort Full Of Pills
Black Heart Procession - We Always Knew
Sunburned Hand Of The Man - The 1st Degree
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Thursday, October 30, 2008
East Coast Nights: Day 9
I'm sitting in Podcast Jack's basement. He's more drunk than Ken or I have ever seen in our entire lives. No, wait, Ken just remembered that Jack puked two years ago at the Broadway Diner in Summit, New Jersey -- but he had also been smoking grass that night, and it totally threw off his equilibrium. Or, so he says right now. Jack wants me to write about how "we" (and by that he means the Obscure References crew, I think) are a failed culture.
"Jack, how are we a failed culture?" I ask.
"Fuck." he grunts, "By not, uh, giving enough time to the blind citizens of our nation."
"And What do you mean by that?"
In a slow, monotone voice, Jack states, "I didn't say it. And if I did, I wasn't sober."
"Okay..." I back off slightly.
A few minutes later, after he's finished pocketing two striped balls to draw even with Ken in their billiards game, Jack tells me, "You're in the limelight. You're in the spotlight."
"What's going on, man, what are you thinking?" I ask.
"That everything is going to be fine, and we are all going to be fine, no matter what polarizing issue we have placed before us."
"Is that it?"
He stops circling around the pool table and prepares for a shot that could win the match. As he steadies his cue stick, he mumbles something about having mixed too many different styles of wine. Then he continues, "And, that listening to strange old music, like Dylan, and old strange tracks..." He calls "corner pocket" and sinks the eight ball to win. "Am I allowed to vomit in my own pocket?"
Ken says, "Sure."
Things here are going downhill fast. I, the most sober member of our party, must be off for the night, as I fear our course is leading us down a treacherous path with only one possible outcome: Jack is about five minutes from projectile vomiting and passing out on the cold floor of his basement. I don't want to be here when that happens. I'll let Ken take care of him. For now, please enjoy these video clips from the other night, when Ken, Katie, Jack and I participated in the second annual Swan Fungus Movie-And-Booze Drinking Game.
Video 1 - Three spins in thirty seconds force us all to drink, except for Jack, who declares "It's more you" on a spin that landed clearly on his shot glass. He quit the game soon after this flurry of excitement.
Video 2 - We move the camera to focus more on our drinking. We discuss whether or not we should move to half-shots, and I respond by taking a shot. Was it even my turn? I don't remember. This was still early in the game.
Video 2 - A quick "Bart" forces Ken to finish the shot he'd been holding for a few minutes, and to spin the wheel. By this point, we were getting much drunker, which should be obvious from our missing both a "Lisa" and a "Marge," plus my inability to successfully pause the movie to see how far along we were.
Video 3 - Now we're all drunk. We decide to go from shots of straight whisky to shots of whisky and Coke, because there's still thirty minutes of movie left. Unfortunately, I had the bright idea to only pour one glass of whisky and Coke, so I come up with the brilliant idea to dunk our shot glasses into the cup and "see what comes out." Then we argue over whether Homer says "Marge" "Bart or "Barge."
Video 4 - I announce I have to take a piss. When I return, I realize I have let my pants fall around my ankles, and forgot to pull them up. Whoops! Then everyone contemplates watching the rest of the movie without pants.
Video 5 - I notice two quick "Homer"s, but Ken is so drunk he's barely paying attention anymore. We try to figure out who spins next. Katie spins, we miss a "Bart", Ken elects to delay his drinking until the next name is spoken, we talk about the spins, Katie announces she has to drive back to Rochester in six hours, and Ken finally takes his drink.
Video 6 - The credits are rolling, and I am rambling about booze and bullshit. I've got the giggles. I can't finish my own sentences.
Video 7 - I try to convince Jack that he hasn't consumed nearly enough alcohol, and offer him a shot. Then I pat him on the head and turn to walk away, smacking the glass out of his hand. It spills all over the floor, but I don't even notice. I leave the room, and Ken tries to figure out if the drunk spilled.
The Breeders - Silver [Demo]
Pussy Galore - SM 57
High On Fire - Turk
Noxagt - Walls End
Bukka White - Shake 'Em On Down
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Wednesday, October 29, 2008
East Coast Nights: Day 8
Armm n' Hammer, together forever (taken today at a local cemetery)
How come it seems like every time I sit down to watch a movie lately, the plot revolves around some kind of torture. A few weeks ago it was The Devil's Rejects, and tonight it was Hard Candy. I come away from these movies feeling like a deranged lunatic for having sat through an hour or two of complete-fucking-torture. Jack and Ken stopped by tonight, as the Philadelphia Phillies -- the losingest franchise in sports history -- finally stopped sucking long enough to win the World Series. Good job, Phillies fans, now you can get back to sucking. I'm sure your team will make it to 20,000 losses in no time! Oh, right, and then we watched some art house films (Lake Placid, some Cinemax after dark soft-core porno, etc. etc.) before Jack left for the night. That's when we flipped on Hard Candy, which made my groin sore (by proxy) for about an hour straight. That Ellen Page sure played the part of a powerful female role amazingly considering he's such a young boy. Ha! Get it? Ellen Page looks like a little dyke!
I got a flu shot this morning. I caved under pressure from my Jew mother, who has spent every day since I arrived here from L.A. asking when I would be getting a flu shot. I told her that I've never had the flu before, and that the vaccinations never seem to protect against the most virulent strain, and that I didn't feel like having any side effects mar my flight home, but she just rolled her eyes like a good little government-controlled flu vaccine supporter, and told me that I needed to get one. She totally played to my hypochondriac tendencies by reminding me that I work in retail and come in contact with many people every day. That smart bitch sure knows how to get me to consent to doing something I don't want to do.
After a quick visit to the doctor's office, we -- wait a minute, that wasn't even the first thing I did today. Before I went to the doctor I drove to a family friends' house to appraise their record collection. Unfortunately, the best titles (Meet The Beatles original with no publishing credits and no George Martin credit, original Sgt. Pepper's, original soul, prog and rock records, most of which were still in shrink wrap) were hammered. At least the family got some good use out of the records. She claimed to own a few Elvis 45s on Sun Records, but couldn't find them. Oh well. That's what I did before I went to the doctor.
After the doctor, my mother drove me to another family friends' house. He's started a new business and was anxious to tell me all about it. It sounded fascinating; he had a truly ingenious idea and found a great way to implement it. He also reminded me that I've been telling him since college that I would gladly sit down and help him write his autobiography, but I figure why write it now when he's in the midsts of his most exciting years? He seemed to understand. Someday I'll send him a tape recorder and have him dictate some stories, but right now I'm focused on other projects.
The whole broken family met for dinner at a fancy steakhouse. I had an eight ounce filet with a side of goose fat potatoes. It was damned good. I'm trying to bulk up while home, I think I've gained about four pounds over the last seven days. That's healthy, right? I'm trying to enjoy it while I can before I return to L.A. and my steady diet of bagels and soda, with the occasional large, formal meal sprinkled in to make me feel like I'm not an anorexic piece of shit.
I have a lot of people to see over the next couple days, before I depart again for the West Coast. Hopefully no one will be disappointed, and most of them will be too drunk to feel sad that I'll be gone for many months, again.
Is tomorrow Halloween? I don't know what day it is, but I guess it is rapidly approaching. People keep performing Google searches for "2008 best Halloween costumes," and they're directed to my blog. I hope they don't leave disappointed. Eh, who am I kidding. Everyone who stops to read this drivel leaves disappointed. They're either disappointed, or enraged. That probably accounts for the majority of the hate mail I receive.
Nirvana & Steve Albini - Evan Dando Prank Phone Call
Japanther - I The Indigene
Leonard Cohen - Bird On A Wire
Quintron - Waterfall
90 Day Men - A National Car Crash
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Tuesday, October 28, 2008
East Coast Nights: Day 7
And by "you people," I obviously mean my African American fans.
My father was supposed to wake me up at 9:00am this morning so that I could borrow his car for the day's travels. I distinctly remember rising to the sound of his alarm clock blasting a renowned symphony down the hall, but I quickly fell back asleep, and didn't awake until almost 11:00am. When I realized what time it was, I hopped out of bed and ran to make sure he hadn't left for work and forgotten me. He was still asleep. I woke him up and told him what time it was, and he swore his alarm clock didn't go off. Whatever. He showered while I fed and walked his dog, then I dropped him off at work and began my journey. Of course, I had to shower myself first, so I left quite a bit later than I'd originally intended. My lunch was planned for 1:45pm, so I had some time to spare, but not that much time. Plus, it was kind of rainy, so there was no way I was going to make it 75 miles in 60 minutes like I normally do, it was going to take a bit longer. I haven't driven in a steady rain in almost 18 months.
I spent thirty minutes wandering around the same hundred-or-so square foot section of the library, where I thought there should be a restroom. I eventually found it (while pretending to browse a row of books about law or science or some shit), and take a very relieving piss. Then I went upstairs and sat and waited for the lunch party to convene. Dreams of Wegmans danced through my head like flames, and as I inhaled the recycled library air into my burning lungs, I swore I could smell the market's cafe. Oh yeah, I was pretty much rock hard at the thought of a good lunch.
Then I was informed that someone had to be somewhere, and that it was impossible to leave campus for an extended period of time, so we'd have to eat on campus. Great, just what I fucking wanted, college cafeteria food. I closed my eyes and tried to fight back the tears, my thoughts vacillating as I imagined a burning Wegmans being anally raped by God's huge black strap-on dildo. I don't think anybody noticed, but I silently mouthed the words "Fuck you, God" to myself as a solitary tear rolled slowly down my frozen-red cheek.
Lunch was alright. There were lots of awkward pauses and badly timed jokes, most of which were emitted by yours truly. I referred to an undergrad tinkering on a piano across the room as a "retard" to a series of angered looks, and I asked if the thought of fucking a bald fat man would give a girl who finds bald men attractive a semi. The company was not amused. I don't know what the fuck I was prattling on about, but I couldn't stop thinking about how badly I wanted to make love to a Wegmans twelve-inch sandwich, or have it make love to me, I didn't really care at that point.
Jesus, this post is going on way too long isn't it? I've only described like, the first two hours of my day. I could probably milk this for much longer, and use all sorts of uncouth-yet-flowery metaphors and verbiage to make it sound more interesting than it was. The drive home sucked. My mother fried up some flounder with a side of Spongebob Squarepants-shaped macaroni and cheese for dinner. My old boss came over and we chatted for a bit. While talking about my girlfriend and trying to show him a picture of her, he asked me pointedly whether or not I had any naked photos of her. I told him they were on my other phone and that I'd send them to him when I returned to L.A.. I hope he didn't think I was being serious. Otherwise...sorry Nicci, but a promise is a promise.
Went to Jack's house, met Ken, watched the video footage from the other night (see: The Simpsons Movie drinking game) and laughed copiously at all the things I definitely don't remember. You people are going to see some jaw-droppingly drunk behavior as soon as those two clowns get the footage edited down. You don't want to watch a bunch of drunken assholes staring at the television, clearly missing all the moments when they should have been drinking because they can't possibly keep track of what's being said anymore, do you? You want to see the part where I forgot to zip up my pants after I pissed and walked out of the bathroom seemingly without any pants on, or the part where Katie unintentionally smacks herself in the head with a glass of whisky, or the part where I go to pat Jack on the head and -- unbeknownst to me -- knock a shot of whisky out of his hand. Oh, and don't forget all the unintelligible crap we say before finally turning the camera off for the night. The progression from buzzed kids enjoying a new drinking game to completely sloppy, on the verge of vomiting drunken fuckwads is truly a remarkable study in the effects of extreme alcohol intake.
You'll see...
The Incredible String Band - Dandelion Blues
Rodney Dangerfield - The Gourmet
The Pretty Things - Balloon Burning
Oasis - It's Better People
Low/Dirty Three - Cody
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