The Brain Dump

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06/17/2008

Define . . . "Me"

My friends and I decided it would be fun to exchange mix CDs with songs that “defined” us. Obviously, these songs are not meant to be definitive in the strictest sense, but I chose songs that point to a kind of person/philosophy that I think I am, hope other people see, aspire to become . . .

So I thought I would share the tracklist with you. My iTunes tells me that I have fifteen days of music, and how I went about initially choosing songs was simply scrolling through all of that and grabbing a song that, in turn, grabbed me. I ended up with a mix three hours long that way, but I managed to whittle it down to a lean one hour. I’ll include my rationale for including each song.

Here we go:

Common People, William Shatner – I knew I would start off with this song from the get-go, though I wasn’t sure which version to use—Pulp or the Shat-man. After a short deliberation, the Shat’s off-beat, emotional delivery (buttressed by Joe Jackson singing balls-out and Ben Folds’s music) won me over. This song rox my sox.

Do You Realize??, the Flaming Lips – I love this song—from its lyrics that juxtapose the heartbreaking and ironic aspects of life with those that are beautiful to the almost orchestral instrumentation to Wayne Coyne’s ethereal voice—I love love love this song. It chooses complication over Romance and still manages to be beautiful. I wish I could do that.

Damn It Feels Good to Be a Gangsta, the Geto Boys – Hell’s Bell’s it feels good to be a gangsta! I actually got into a “passionate” discussion with one of my friends about this song. Quoth my friend, “They can’t even get the definition of ‘gangsta’ straight!” Which is of course why I love it. The song doesn’t give one definition of “gangsta,” but four—four that I think speak to a different part of how people, in this case gangstas, react to life. Plus it’s bad-ass.

Watching the Wheels, John Lennon – My favorite Lennon song—it reminds me to simmer down when I’m freaking out about work or money or writing, etc. The world could use more people who let go of the merry-go-round.

Knock Yourself Out, Jon Brion – This song, in addition to having a folky, laid-back feel to it and lyrics voice my personal mindset in regards to the metaphysical nature of the universe, has the added bonus of being on the soundtrack of one of my favorite movies. I saw Mr. Brion live and got to go on-stage, touch him, and personally request this song—which he played. As some will tell it, I also pushed over a pregnant woman causing her to lose her baby in order to get that chance . . . but she probably didn’t want that baby anyway . . .

Dance to the Underground, Radio 4 – This song has a kick-ass beat and attitude. And like its singer, every now and then I take refuge in the underground (be it in music, philosophy, or literature).

Dear God, XTC – Dear XTC, Thank you for saying in lyric-form many of the reasons why I don’t believe in a conscious, personal god and why, even if I did, I would not worship it.

Better Son/Daughter, Rilo Kiley – Rilo Kiley remains one of my favorite bands and, after just blasting god and religion, this seemed an appropriate follow-up. It’s hard to be a good (or better) person sometimes, but the song’s building drum march beat helps keep me going. May I also say how ridiculously perfect this music video is for the song . . . Ah, crazy Japanese movies, how I love you . . .

Space Dementia, Muse – Then again, sometimes I just want to disappear into oblivion. My girlfriend, Christina, told me after I put this on my mix that she rejected the message of this song (even though Muse is one of her favorite bands). What can I say? Sometimes I’m just cynical enough to prefer it if peace arose and tore everyone apart and made us meaningless again . . . and the music video includes Cowboy Bebop, which—regardless of what Christina says—still inspires me to write my own saga on Mars.

Mad World, Tears for Fears – So follows Tears for Fears, in a less intense fashion at least. I dig this songs catchy music coupled with its bleak lyrics. Truly, we live in a mad world.

Suicide Is Painless, The Ventures – He he he . . . This one sounds worse than it is. First off, this version has no lyrics and so is not explicitly depressing. Secondly, The Ventures gave it a catchy disco feel that I interpret as saying, “Life can really shit on you sometimes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t dance.”

Korobeiniki, Ozma – And with new life given to me by The Ventures, I’m able to roxor nerd-style with Ozma’s Nintendelicious cover of the Tetris theme. Plus this video utilizes Captain N: The Game Master, which is a blast from my cartoon past. Pure sweetness.

Murder the Government, NOFX – Ozma’s nerd punk leads to what I feel is one of the best punk songs out there. This song lays out an anarchist manifesto at break-neck speed (once it gets going) and, though I usually identify as a kind of socialist, this song certainly calls to the anarchist lurking inside me.

Oo-de-lally, Roger Miller – I felt it fitting to follow that with the most laid-back song on the mix, a song from one of my favorite childhood movies, Disney’s Robin Hood. The juxtaposition reminds me that human beings are irreconcilably complex. I couldn't find a suitable English version of this song on youtube (stupid Disney with their stupid copyrights) but I did find this sweet Swedish version. "Oo-de-lally, oo-de-lally, hopsa linkin dahhhhhh."

Revolution 1, The Beatles – Out of NOFX’s anarchist spirit and Roger Miller’s country sensibilities arises an acoustic call to revolution, sung in muted, wispy tones and appealing to a rational, practical revolutionary. I’d like to think that describes me. I’d also like to point out that I put this song here by total accident, but since I thought of a reason for it to belong here I turn it from impulsive accident into artistic statement.

Philosophy, Ben Folds Five – In case you haven’t picked up on a theme here . . . although this was a last minute addition. I knew I wanted a Ben Folds Five song on here but couldn’t decide between this and Best Imitation of Myself. Well, Best Imitation of Myself gave the mix a particularly depressing turn, so I went with this one instead. By now I think we’ve had enough existential doubt for one mix . . .

Chicago, Sufjan Stevens – This song is perfect for a couple of reasons. One, I live in Chicago, I was born here, and—for the first time since moving all across the country during my childhood—I feel like I’ve found in here a region that I can call home. Second, its music is inspirational, while its lyrics are humble. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” indeed—but the song also offers a complicated and determined message of hope. Christina told me that this song felt like me, and I took that as one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me, musically speaking, of course . . .

That’s it. Fittingly, I started listening to it as I began this post, and I have finished it as Sufjan brings it home for me. I hope you enjoyed reading about it. What songs would you have included on your own mix?

15:15 Posted in General | Permalink | Comments (3) | Email this | Tags: me, mix, tracklist

06/12/2008

In the Words of Mel Gibson

18:10 Posted in General | Permalink | Comments (1) | Email this | Tags: Master's, attained, Freedom

06/11/2008

Pic o' the Week: Special Edition

Hello, folks. I've been very negligent in my duties as a blogger lately, and I blame that on two things. The first is finals week at DePaul University--but not just any finals week. The final finals week I will finally finish forever! That's right. Come tomorrow, I will have turned in the final project of my graduate career--the culmination of all of my educational years, starting in 1985 when I first entered pre-school through three elementary schools, one middle school, three high schools, one undergraduate university, four community college summer course, and one graduate university. Twenty-two years I've been in school, people (not counting a year I took off after undergrad), and after 5PM CST tomorrow my work is done. I graduate Sunday.

But before I get ahead of myself, I thought I would give you guys a special edition of my Pic o' the Week. Seeing as I've missed the last two, I'll give you two today. Here you go:

The first: Last weekend I went to Grosse Pointe Woods, MI, because Nic's brother was getting married (after seven(!) years dating his girlfriend). I took Christina and we both had a really fun time. Most of the photos of the wedding, however, are on her camera, so I can't share any of those. But I can share one we took on my camera of the house I lived in for a year and a half:

The ol' homestead. That was my room there on the left.

Christina gets credit for taking the shot, while I was driving and trying not to look like a terrorist scoping out my next target.

The second Pic o' the Week comes from my notebook, and never has a picture looked so beautiful. It is a snapshot of the last class notes I will ever take. The class was Modern Rhetoric--and, yes, it was as exciting as it sounds! A little context might be needed here to help you appreciate my diligent note-taking. The class (at least the beginning . . . when I was taking notes) was on Jacques Derrida--that sexy deconstructionist. Ever since I had to make a presentation on Habermas, I've tried to come up with exciting nicknames for the rhetoricians we've studied (I referred to Habermas in my presentation solely as "The Habernator"). Derrida became "The Derrida-zaster!" We also watched part of a documentary about him in which we saw the following: He owned a cat and American co-eds will fawn over him after he gives a talk. The documentary also described him as having "lightning thoughts," and we witnessed The Derrida-zaster in action! Instead of actually answering the questions an interviewer was trying to ask him, The Derrida-zaster decided to question them about their film equipment (Oh, decontruction . . . are you never not smug?) and during this he asked to know the name of a device they kept adjusting when he would try to talk, disrupting his train of thought. The device was a "reflector."

SHAZAM! Lightning thought: "The reflector does not allow reflection!" --The Derrida-zaster

But enough foreplay. Let's get to the action:

SHAZAM!

I get all the credit for that one.

Just one more day . . .

19:00 Posted in Pic o' the Week | Permalink | Comments (0) | Email this | Tags: graduation, grosse, pointe, woods, derrida

05/29/2008

Last of the Writings (for Now)

I added chapters 6-11 (the rest of Part One) of Duncan and the Heart of Aria to the sidebar. I actually wrote one (and a half) more chapters in order to meet my January quota, but those are in no condition to be read, so this finishes out all the progress I have made on my first novel. One hundred and eleven, single-spaced, letter-sized pages . . . one-third of the way there. I've continue to work on it, sporadically, as school keeps getting in the way, and I'd say I am approaching the halfway mark. Approaching . . . Still, it feels good to see them listed together (even if it is only in a sidebar).

I got my second story workshopped in class last week. I turned in a heavily revised version of "A Rat Problem"--what I have since changed to just "Rat Problem." Aaaaaaaand it filled the class with wonderful bewilderment--wonderful because they said my writing style was very strong and that I have a good sense of dialogue and action; bewildering because they had no idea what to make of the ending. A few of them got it, although they weren't certain in the conclusions they had reached. So I got things to clarify . . .

My professor says I'm "afraid of character." I told him there is a difference between being afraid of character and being much more interested in the systems that construct that character. This, evidently, is one of the last things you want to say to a literary fiction professor. I'm surprised he didn't burn me at the stake.

It really brings into focus how much I need to break myself away from the "literary establishment," for, if nothing else, my simple sanity. Part of me, naturally, really wants to be accepted in this incredibly exclusive club as they wield considerable cultural clout. But. The tradeoff is having to write very specific stories--stories that, frankly, do not interest me as an artist. Don't get me wrong. The literary elite are very good at what they do, and I enjoy reading (some of) their stories. But I have other things to say.

When I think about this stuff, I like to remind myself of my two favorite authors: Thomas Pynchon and Kurt Vonnegut. Pinny is shunned by most of the literary world because of his ontic antics and the sprawling, bloated, massive narratives that are his calling cards. Gravity's Rainbow, what is hailed by most as his masterpiece (no argument here), was in fact rejected by the Pulitzer Advisory Board as "turgid," "overwritten," in parts "obscene," and overall "unreadable." But I can say with confidence that he doesn't give a fuck what they think. The more I learn about him actually lends me to believe that some of the things he does, he does in order to disrupt their contented modes of reading. Kurt Vonnegut was similarly shunned as merely a science fiction writer by the literary world for much of his career. It wasn't until Slaughterhouse-Five that they realized how good science fiction can, in fact, be. But, again, he wasn't writing for those jackasses.

And neither am I. I have finally zeroed in on what it is I want to say to the world and I don't need anyone's approval to say it (though it is nice to hear that people are listening (Comments, please . . .)). Literary fiction is a genre like any other and grad school has showed me that I want to write something else. That's a hard pill to swallow when that particular genre is held up as the be-all-end-all of literature. But I need to accept it. And I think, slowly but surely, I will.

13:10 Posted in Writing | Permalink | Comments (2) | Email this | Tags: writings, duncan, literary, pynchon, vonnegut

05/28/2008

The Wrong Damn Day to Get Out of Bed

Let me tell you about last week.

OK, so it's Tuesday. At least it ain't Monday, right? I wake up and . . . oh, I can barely open my eyes without wanting to scratch them out of my face. Allergies, how I love you. But that's pretty par for the course (thank you, springtime), and I have medication for it.

I walk dogs this day, as I do all that week and did the two weeks before that (one reason I found little time to post here) and so I set out on Christina's bike, Calexico, which she was kind enough to lend me. It is not the first time I ride Calexico to the puppies, and I find the exercise, fresh air, and lack of four dollar gas needed to get from point A to point B refreshing. And so I pedal my way down Clark St, a busy road that runs much of the length of the entire city. Here I am, cruising down the bike lane, when a man in a parked car on the side of the street flings his door open without a care for anyone who might be biking up beside him.

A choked, "Whoa—" escapes my lips, then Calexico's handlebars collide with the door and I fly off, land on my back, and thunk the back of my head against the asphalt. Luckily, I am wearing Christina's helmet. Luckily, there are no cars driving in either direction. Luckily.

So I find myself sprawled on my back in the middle of Clark St. staring at the sky, thinking such Zen thoughts as, "That's the sky," when the man scrambles out of his car saying, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm from New York. I'm sorry. Are you OK? I'm really lost . . ."

Somewhere in there I think to pick myself off the ground and realize with joyous glee that I still can. So I do. My right leg stings, along with my left elbow and my right shoulder, my head doesn't feel great, but Calexico's OK and all I can think is, "Well, it could've been worse." Plus, there are cars coming. I seem relatively fine so I tell the guy to be more careful and continue down the street.

In the coming days I will find all manner of happy bruises across my body allowing me to recreate what actually happened. As far as I can tell, the force of the handlebars jerking sharply to the right pulled a muscle near my right shoulder and I think that shoulder hit the door, giving my a huge bruise there. The handlebars hit my right thigh hard enough to give me a big scrape (and bigger bruise) and making it a little difficult to walk. I twisted in flight so I landed on my back, probably whacking my left elbow on the asphalt, along with the back of my helmeted head. That's what I've pieced together. I felt like shit the next morning.

But Tuesday isn't over. Oh no, no it isn't. I continue to the first two puppies, explain my tardiness to the owner, and walk the two dogs. I lock Calexico to her gate and when I return to him afterwards, I pull out the lock key, insert into the keyhole and twist . . . only to watch the key snap in half. Glorious. So now my girlfriend's bike is locked to this woman's gate and I still have four dogs to walk with no bike or car to get to them. It also hurts to be alive.

I call my boss. I explain what happened, everything that happened, and tell her that I'm stranded in Lincoln Park with no bike or car. She's very nice. She tells me I can use her bike but I have to take a cab to the office because she's late for an appointment. The office is on Irving Park, which is . . . I think seventeen blocks north of me. So I get a cab. She gives me her bike and I have to ride her bike all the way back down to Lincoln Park. I'm loving life, I'll tell you.

My boss's bike: In some circles, this bike is known as The Most Annoying Fucking Bike in the History of the World. First of all, it is smaller than Christina's and hurts my back to ride. Second, the chain constantly wants to jump to the neighboring gears, regardless of how carefully you set the gear shift. Third, it has this fucking bell on it that ding-a-lings every time you go over a fucking bump. This is what I rode for the rest of the day.

I ride back down to Lincoln Park, taking Lakeshore this time, a bike/jogging path on which cars are not allowed, even though it adds a few blocks to my journey. I go to my next dog (number three of six—halfway done). She's excited to see me, jumps up on my aching body, etc. I give her a walk and take her back. My boss had warned me that this dog "gets fussy" when people leave—abandonment issues, I guess—but not to worry because she's all bark.

Wrong.

Bitch fucking bites me! Clamps right down on my right forearm. Luckily, I'm wearing a coat, and so it just hurts like hell and doesn't actually break the skin. Luckily, I let go of the doorknob out of shock and the dog, upon seeing this, lets go of me. Gets fussy, does she? All bark, is she? She'll growl when I try to go? Jump up on me? Fucking bite me?! AHHHHHHHH!!!!!

I beat her back with Christina's helmet and scurry out. Gahhhhh. It is then that a thought I occasionally have pops back into my head and causes me to pause and ponder the metaphysical nature of our universe. The thought is this:

Maybe there is a god after all, and, in addition to many other things, it is and ever shall be omni-mischievous.

To recap: My eyes are raw from allergies, my body aches from getting thrown off Calexico, Calexico hates me and is locked to a gate in Lincoln Park, my boss's bike blows, this one dog is a super-bitch, and I'm tired and hungry and all I want to do is cuddle into the fetal position with Christina.

I finish the day out, my body growing ever-achier over the course of the remaining dogs. I make the twenty-seven block bike ride back to my apartment and collapse on my bed, falling into the merciful hands of my subconscious. I wake up a few hours later and take the train to a pizza place called Crust where I meet Christina and my two friends, Anthony and Richard, for dinner. The pizza is good, the drinks, sedatives, and I'm able to vent about the events of the day.

That was Tuesday. Wednesday was a confrontation with the brutally fragile nature of the human body. I ached, I was bruised, the scrape on my leg opened back up. But I didn't get bit by that dog, so I guess it was a pretty good day. I also drove my car to the dogs. Thursday was much the same. Friday finally saw my body getting some relief. The bruises turned yellow, like someone spilled highlighter all over me, and my shoulder and elbow hurt a little less.

All in all, I'm gonna say it was a pretty good thing I didn't have access to an uzi.

12:50 Posted in General | Permalink | Comments (0) | Email this | Tags: bad, day

05/18/2008

Dinosaurs, Linguistics, and Batman--oh . . . yessssss.

My friend, Nic, introduced me to Dinosaur Comics, and this week's Pic o' the Week is one of them.

Oh, T-Rex, you're so sassy!

Here's a link to the website if you can't read it here. And here's another one I really liked. The best part is: The panels are always the same, only the dialogue changes. He he he . . .

Ryan North is responsible for these and any other dinosaur comics, so he gets all the praise and blame. Peace out, yo!

Do you have a picture you think is funny or otherwise worthy of note? Email it to me and if I agree it could be the next Pic o' the Week!

18:55 Posted in Pic o' the Week | Permalink | Comments (1) | Email this | Tags: pic, o, week, dinosaur, comics

05/16/2008

An Open Letter to You

Dear Readers,

I wanted to thank you for taking the time to read my inane little blog. I know that you have lots of other things that you could be doing with your time, like reading a book or solving our geo-political problems. However, I noticed that because I have started posting so often, my posts have now overtaken in number the comments left on those posts, and that makes me a little sad. After all, I'm doing this . . . well, mostly for me but also a little for you. My statistics page tells me that I've had one hundred and seventy unique visitors to my blog this month alone, and yet so few comments . . .

I'd like to hear what you think of my little operation. So I wanted to ask: Whatcha thinkin'? Have you been reading any of my short stories? Do you like my Pics o' the Week? Should I just shut up already?

If you can answer any of the following, or comment about anything else, in a respectful manner, then I'm sure we can be friends. And if you have a blog I promise to read it (at least a couple times) and leave comments of my own just for you! Then we can make a little blogosphere all our own! Doesn't that sound fun?

Anywho, I should get going. But I hope to hear from you soon!

Bloggity-blogging,

Chris

17:35 Posted in General | Permalink | Comments (1) | Email this | Tags: open, letter, you, blogosphere

05/12/2008

Oops . . . and Other Random Rants

So I really dropped the ball on posting last week, didn't I? I blame school, and to a lesser extent society. Four more weeks to go before I'm outta here!

Speaking of outta here, it is official. Christina and I have signed and mailed the contracts--we have a job in China! We'll be teaching at Anyang Normal University (nice to be normal) in the city of Anyang in the Henan Province. We need to be there by the middle of August. Our correspondent, Marvin, tells us we will have a newly renovated four-bedroom apartment waiting for us. Yay! He also apologized because Anyang is such a small city. The metropolitan area only has five million people in it . . .

Speaking of fiction writing (hmmm, not as smooth), my story, "Dick and Jane: A Love Story" (found in the sidebar) was workshopped in my fiction writing class last last Thursday. You may remember me wondering how my professor would respond to it. Well, now I know. He, in a word, didn't. Yes. No comments. All he did was tell the class that whenever he reads a story with metafictional elements he feels like he doesn't have the vocabulary to talk about it. So he doesn't. Part of me can respect that, but then another, much larger, part of me wants to grab him by his writing utensil and yell, "Your the damn teacher--find a way to talk about it!" . . . I'm working through it. Actually, I set up a meeting with him this Tuesday to make him talk about it. 'Cause that's how I roll.

Speaking of rolling on and on with no clear end in sight while the entire country wants to pull its collective hair out and making the hurting finally stop . . . Hilary is still in the race! Y- . . . yaaaaay . . . ! But she's not actually who I want to talk about. John McCain was recently on the Daily Show, and a few things he said really gave me pause. The first thing was how he spoke about Hamas. Jon brought up a comment that he made, saying that Hamas endorsed Barack Obama. Whether or not he was taking out of context, whatever a Hamas endorsement would mean, it was what he said next that really stopped me. He called them a "transcendent evil" who want "to destroy everything we believe in." Now . . . I was under the impression that Hamas was a Palestinian resistance group fighting against their perceived occupation by Israel, which is continually supported by us. I didn't realize that they aren't really people, they're just an abstract evil that needs to be destroyed. That's cool, whatever. He continues, saying, "I think they think that I'm their worst nightmare," something that he is proud of, and I wondered what kind of appeal he was trying to make by playing off xenophobic, anti-diplomatic, sentiments in the American people . . . Don't we want peace in the Middle East? Maybe the ability to respectfully address one another and come to a resolution that fosters harmony between two suffering peoples? Maybe I was wrong again . . .

The second thing that got me was when Jon Stewart suggested a running mate for him. Hilary Clinton. After he overcame his shock, Johnny-boy stuttered that that was something that he had never considered before, but I thought wouldn't that kinda be awesome? What would be a stronger show of bipartisanship than taking someone from the other side as your running mate? It reminded me of the early presidencies, when the vice presidency was given to the runner-up. Have we fallen so far from a common ground that that notion is seen as both ludicrous and disastrous?

Speaking of disastrous, Myanmar sure is turning out to be a shithole, ain't it?

That's all for now. I'll be better about posting. I promise . . .

14:29 Posted in General | Permalink | Comments (0) | Email this | Tags: China, metafiction, McCain, Clinton, Myanmar

The Brain Dump

My blog about me

Categories

Recent Posts

Archives

July 2008

Writings

Blogroll

Recent comments

Last updated weblogs

06/17/2008

Define . . . "Me"

06/12/2008

In the Words of Mel Gibson

06/11/2008

Pic o' the Week: Special Edition

05/29/2008

Last of the Writings (for Now)

05/28/2008

The Wrong Damn Day to Get Out of Bed

05/18/2008

Dinosaurs, Linguistics, and Batman--oh . . . yessssss.

05/16/2008

An Open Letter to You

05/12/2008

Oops . . . and Other Random Rants

The Brain Dump

My blog about me

Newsletter

Categories

Recent Posts

Archives

July 2008

Writings

Blogroll

Recent comments

Last updated weblogs

06/17/2008

Define . . . "Me"

06/12/2008

In the Words of Mel Gibson

06/11/2008

Pic o' the Week: Special Edition

05/29/2008

Last of the Writings (for Now)

05/28/2008

The Wrong Damn Day to Get Out of Bed

05/18/2008

Dinosaurs, Linguistics, and Batman--oh . . . yessssss.

05/16/2008

An Open Letter to You

05/12/2008

Oops . . . and Other Random Rants