Friday, December 30, 2005

Wolphin #1

I just watched the first number of Wolphin, the DVD periodical that came with the newest issue of The Believer. Before I watched it, I was rather apathetic to the notion of "bonus" material being appended to this magazine; after all, their music issue featured a CD of stuff that, without even listening to, I blew off- modern indie rock bands doing indie rock covers, I think. Yawn. And this newest issue of The Believer focused on visual art, which isn't something I've ever been terribly interested in. Thankfully, after reading the magazine, I concluded that yeah, it's not my thing, but there was a fair amount of interesting material, so it's casual.

Wolphin turned out to be mighty nifty. Well, most of it. The thing I liked best was the short-short film Are You the Favorite Person of Anybody?, a question I answered to myself before even hitting 'play.' Other noteworthy material: The Delicious, about a man's attraction to and relationship with a pantsuit he found in his wife's closet, and The Big Empty, which involved the exploration of female nether regions in the most literal sense of the term. All in all, I was impressed, and I suppose it wouldn't offend anyone involved with the project for me to compare the films included to, well, an issue of McSweeney's, if McSweeney's also included odd Middle Eastern cartoons. (Wait, it might as well; like all McSweeney's stuff, The Believer always seems to feel the need to include some kind of non-sequitur, usually visual, which Wolphin also had. Point being that Eggers-backed projects, no matter the focus, tend to have some fluff, albeit more interesting fluff than what you'd find elsewhere.)

Time permitting, I'm going to go see Brokeback Mountain and/or Capote tomorrow. If I'm lucky, I'll catch one of 'em, 'cause I doubt I'll wake up in time to see both, especially if I have to walk to the theatre.

And now, dear reader, it's off to pay a visit to Nasht and Kaman-Thah- who I finally met, after much effort, not long ago.

Thursday, December 29, 2005

The year in review, with a foreword re: the quandary of drink.

For every night I have like this- listening to good records, not bummed out by the prospect of tomorrow, writing stuff that seems solid- that involves alcohol, I have others that, while not lacking in good times, find me besotted and feeling any/all of the following: like an irredeemable alcoholic; sick; heartbroken (for no good reason); unnaturally nostalgic; anxious; foolish; stupid; forceably happy when I shouldn't be; etc. etc.

I can't really say what the ratio of good:bad drinking nights is, because I drink so often- statement of fact, not to be burdened with connotation- that keeping track would involve an act of mental bookkeeping that I'm not interested in performing.

Anyway, on to the main focus of this post. Elspeth, who is in terms of awesomeness the equivalent of a perpetual motion machine (i.e. unbelievable, but not unimaginable), posted on her journal a list of questions (source unknown) re: the past year. I've stolen these questions, since they're pretty decent and allow me the opportunity to ruminate on A.D. 2005 a bit. Thanks, Elspeth!

Unlike Elspeth, 2005 didn't feel like two years to me. If anything, it was a handful of selected weeks interspersed with my first real glimpses of the void that is aging.

On to the questions!

1. What did you do in 2005 that you'd never done before?
Engage in levels of interpersonal foolishness that I'd previously disdained. In retrospect, while I no longer have the moral high ground, this year's experience has been useful in that I know I'm not cut out for such things.

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I don't think I made any.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Not that I know of. (edit, a mere few hours after the original post) Someone I had a crush on is apparently gonna be spitting out a kid in the next few months. What can I say, other than I doubt I'll ever be able to raise a child if I remain as horribly skeptical about almost every aspect of life as I am now?

4. Did anyone close to you die?
No, which I suspect will make 2005 the exception from now on. Entropy is stronger than any of us.

5. What countries did you visit?
Mexico, to visit my parents in Mexico City.

6. What would you like to have in 2006 that you lacked in 2005?
More dedication to my art, and success in convincing someone to publish that art.

7. What date from 2005 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
September 19th: I asked out Linda o-fficially at the High on Fire show. Personally, this speaks volumes about me.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Probably realizing that no, dude, you're not ever going to be important to anyone other than your friends and loved ones, and almost accepting that fact.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Assuming that I knew myself better than I really did (and still do).

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
No, thankfully.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
Pretty much every LP/CD and book I picked up this year.

14. Where did most of your money go?
Necessities: rent, utilities, food, beer, books, and records.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Linda. My continued attachment to the mortal coil. Writing. Reading. Meeting some fine folks.

16. What song will always remind you of 2005?
One? Shit, that's foolish, so here are a few that I can recall offhand: "Cometh Down Hessian," High on Fire; "When Will They Shoot?," Ice Cube; "Get Into It," Brant Bjork and the Bros; "For the Love of God," Ulver; anything off of Genevieve by Velvet Cacoon; "On the Mountain at Dawn," Om.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
Happier or sadder — Sadder.
Older or wiser — Both, but I'd qualify the latter by saying "painfully so...kinda."
Thinner or fatter? — Fatter, thanks to my beer habit.
Richer or poorer? — Richer, if only because I actually have a savings account now.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
I wish I'd written more, and pushed my second novel onto publishers/agents more stridently.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Waste time on pursuits I knew to be fruitless.

20. How will you be spending Christmas?
I already spent Christmas with my brother.

22. Did you fall in love in 2005?
Yeah.

24. What was your favorite TV program?
Battlestar: Galactica, despite seeing too little of it.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Only myself, and I'd say I'm disappointed, not hateful.

26. What was the best book you read?
All in all, Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Dude, I bought so many albums that it would take far too long to sort through 'em to make a decision.

28. What did you want and get?
A slightly better understanding of what it'll take to call myself a writer and mean it.

29. What did you want and not get?
Peace of mind.

30. What was your favorite film of this year?
I saw very, very few movies this year, so I'd go with Broken Flowers.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I hung out with some folks here at the new(est) casa, and I turned 26.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Again, I can't choose one thing. Finding a publisher for my second novel would've been magnificent, and it would've been satisfying on multiple levels not to have let so many people, myself included, down.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2005?
No different than last year's: crude metalhead, i.e. good ol' shredded jeans, metal band t-shirts, battered footwear, and long, somewhat unkempt hair. (Fuck all y'all that mock my sideburns.)

34. What kept you sane?
A handful of beloved people, as well as literature and music.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
None of them, really. I don't even listen to Avril Lavigne much these days.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?
The existence of politics. Oh, you mean specifically: the continued existence of a nigh-certifiable idiot, surrounded by soulless and highly crafty bastards, in the Oval Office.

37. Who did you miss?
Elspeth. Andy. Bill. Amanda.

38. Who was the best new person you met?
Persons, not person. Linda and Elspeth, and, sadly only online, Shari, hands down.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2005:
Better get your shit together, Smith, if only for your own sake- but never forget that it's casual.

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Of cigarettes and leisurely computing.

Smoking in bed with a laptop leads to many a cigarette tumbling from the ashtray onto either the floor, the lower bookshelf, the box spring, or parts unknown.

This is especially, if unrealistically, dangerous when you've got a Kalashnikov with a full magazine propped against the wall between your bed and the bookcase. Dangerous because in some alternate movie-like universe the cigarette could fall onto the magazine and manage to heat it to the point where one or more of the rounds therein would explode. Unrealistic because, well, shit, physics pretty much prevents such a thing from happening, as does my preternatural ability to snatch burning butts from places they belong before they cause damage (assuming I'm not drunk and/or distracted, which explains the cigarette burns on the carpet at my prior domicile at Melrose Place).

Monday, December 26, 2005

Not too shabby.

Thanks to my brother's generosity, I'm typing this message from my bed. Alas, there's no wireless connection just yet, but I'm not going to complain- I never imagined that I'd have a laptop anytime in the foreseeable future, but here I am, loafing like a 21st century Lin Yutang.

I hope everyone's Christmas was a good one.

Sunday, December 25, 2005

Merry Christmas!

Here's wishing all of you and your loved ones a merry Christmas. Enjoy your time with your family and friends, and remind them all of how much they mean to you. Due to circumstances, I won't be able to thank many people face to face for being such wonderful human beings, but rest assured, dear reader, that you are in my heart and mind this day.

You may now resume playing in piles of wrapping paper.

Saturday, December 24, 2005

Obligatory notes on the holidays.

For the second year in a row, I'll be spending Christmas with my brother, my parents being in Mexico City and therefore unavailable for what'll pass for festivities. Not that this weekend is lacking in Christmas cheer- I ate dinner at T'afia with my brother and Tracey last night, had drinks with them, Peter, Matt, Sara, and others, had more drinks with Sean and Vanessa. On top of that, I bought myself some new albums- Sig's Lagoon on Main is a pretty neat record store, and I'm glad I finally got to go- and a couple DVDs of Iron Maiden and Enslaved concerts, so I've got entertainment to last some time. Tonight, folks convene for glühwein and conviviality, so all's well there, too.

But I'm still kinda depressed about the whole Christmas thing. As happy as I am to get to spend it with Scott, I wish my family were here, and that I'd had the chance to see some other people as well. Work doesn't help my overall demeanor, either. And considering the year as a whole, I just feel older and increasingly stagnant. That's something to discuss another time, however, because right now, it's time to drop the needle on The Chronic.

Friday, December 23, 2005

Dealing with internal organs: II

"You do understand that the heart wasn't the big thing for them, right?"
"Of course I do. But I'm not looking at it from their perspective."
"That's unfair, then."
"No, it's not. Just because they didn't care about the heart-"
"They did care. That's why they placed a scarab amulet over it."
"Fuck that. Protective or not, shit-dwelling beetles over my heart is no way to go."
"Why are you so up in arms about this?"
"Because the heart deserves better. Mine, at least."
"Can't you just be happy for the rest of their accomplishments? Embalming, architecture, hieroglyphics..."
"No."
"..."
"You want to know why? Because I don't want to. Sure, I know deep down that I'm pleased about those things. But they're fucking with the human heart, and I can't handle that. Beetles that roll balls of shit around are not appropriate guardians of the heart, whatever mythology or theology you buy into."
"You're being selfish."
"So fucking what? My heart hurts because there's a beetle sitting on it! Shit, that makes my brain hurt too!"
"Now you're just not making any sense. I thought we were talking about mummification."
"We're still talking about mummification. About what it does to the heart. And that's what I can't stand."
"It's a-"
"Don't fucking say 'it's a cultural thing.' You're missing my point."
"Please elucidate, then."
"They took everything else out and left my heart in the hands of a goddamned beetle."
"..."
"?"
"I'm so sorry."
"There was nothing anyone could do about it."

Dealing with internal organs: I

"Good news. The heart wasn't put into a canopic jar."
"No, there was just a scarab placed over it."
"An amulet. A scarab amulet."
"Still a goddamned beetle."

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Black metal and beer!

Immortal's At the Heart of Winter and Saint Arnold's Christmas Ale, specifically. No, the irony of anti-Christian music being paired with nominally Christian-themed alcohol (a sub-irony in itself), isn't lost on me. If anything, it's an excellent example of the ethical equivocation- pardon the alliteration- that imbues my being. Kind of.

As I said a couple weeks ago, work's been a real bitch since they laid one-third of my department off and laid all the responsibility for building and proofing ads on my shift. However, not even a threefold increase in my workload can stop me; I've found a way to put up with my massive proofreading load, and on top of that, I'm on the ball financially despite the current gift-giving season and I'm writing at a pace one might call "regular." There are, of course, some things, mainly social, that I haven't yet bested, but I'm working on 'em, even if the folks involved might not realize it.

My brother and I are having a get-together on Christmas Eve at his place. I'm not sure if food will be involved, but there will be hot spiced German wine at hand, as well as stimulating conversation. If you're interested in coming, let me know.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

yawn

Aw, hell. I've only made it through two days of the work week, my usual gamer-ineptitude (as well as lack of patience) is flaring up while playing Shadow of the Colossus, and it's already 5:33 AM. I sure as fuck don't feel like writing or staying up until almost nine, like I did yesterday.

Might as well hit the rack soon. Friday morning can't get here soon enough.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

An observation.

If I had a dollar for every morning I sat outside drinking a beer and watching the sun crawl up into the sky from the east, I could probably afford another sixer.

Sunday, December 11, 2005

An open letter to the folks who keep giving me good music

Dear Bill Clifford and Matt Smith,

Please send me more Jamaican ska (e.g. Prince Buster, if I gave you that album all those years ago) and British crust. If either of you happen to have early '70s dub (Lee "Scratch" Perry, King Tubby, etc.), or more Axegrinder songs available, such contributions would be appreciated.

Love always, no matter how gay it may sound,
Dave Smith

P.S. Bill: Mp3s of "Nevermind" and/or "In Utero" would hit the spot as well, and the Pietasters albums I left you would make for good times too.

P.P.S. Matt: full Amebix, Axegrinder, and any old British crust albums (as long as they're not shitty-sounding live albums) would be killer.

P.P.P.S. Cough 'em up, y'all!

Friday, December 09, 2005

"Grandma take me home"

Yes, the title comes from one of my favorite Nirvana songs, "Sliver," which I am currently listening to courtesy of the almighty Bill Clifford. And while it applies not only to the song and the adolescent memories attached thereto, it also finds a slightly less obvious application to the Christmas wish that was granted to me about 13.5 hours ago by the equally almighty Andy Link, namely his delivery of a PS2 and Shadow of the Colossus to my casa.

I've heard nothing but good about this game, and after a couple-three hours of dedicated playing, I myself have nothing but good to say about it, despite any intimations otherwise implied by the following comments.

Shadow of the Colossus makes me incredibly sad. See, from where I stand- early in the game, to be fair- it appears that the storyline so far is nothing more than an exercise in the worst kind of selfishness. You play some dude who wants an unnamed and undelineated female raised from the dead, so you take her to a beautifully ruined temple, where a disembodied voice essentially says "sure, we might be able to do that, if you kill sixteen living embodiments of the idols found here in the temple." Without a second thought, you mount your trusty steed and set out to flat-out MURDER the colossi that are the avatars of the idols.

MURDER. Because that's all it boils down to, as far as I can tell. Sure, they're huge, sometimes armed, and fucking scary, but until you show up, neither of the colossi I as a player has faced seems to be doing anything other than minding its own business. Yet what do I/my character do? Immediately do everything in our power to kill these titans, JUST TO BRING SOME DAME BACK TO LIFE. Climb up their gargantuan limbs, stab them in the head, loose arrows into their hooves, all for the sake of ONE person whose importance to the game's protagonist is presumably important, but not inherently so.

It's like having your girlfriend die, then dragging your ass out to some ancient Eastern temple and having a shining light tell you "hey, dude, go on out and butcher every beast you find that weighs more than four hundred pounds, and we'll bring her back to you."

As I noted, I'm barely into the game, but judging from Andy's reaction to the overall story, and my own awe at facing the colossi and feeling truly shitty at even attacking them, I still feel that Shadow of the Colossus is a cautionary tale, and maybe... hell, I don't know. All I know is that I've never come across a video game that simultaneously saddens me and makes me want to murder innocent, if terrifying, creatures, if only to see how things unfold.

It's the most beautiful game I've ever seen, in the sense that it makes me appreciate life and nature to a degree that so many other things have failed to. It's strange attributing that to a video game, but perhaps that's a sign that the medium has reached the point where it's capable of doing more than providing intellectual puzzles, laughs, and/or gratuitous violence. Games have done more than those things for me before, to be sure, but damn, never have I faced off with an "enemy" and wanted to flee because it was too majestic to slay in the name of a seemingly trite, narcissistic goal.

In some pathetic way, I hope progressing through Shadow of the Colossus will change things, show that the colossi are somehow malevolent and require death at the hands of the character and I... but I doubt that will happen, and in my heart of hearts, I don't want it to happen. Conventional game, and by extension general modern, morality would ruin what only a few hours of playing Shadow of the Colossus has shown me in terms of what games and art- because this is, undoubtedly, art- is capable of.

Back to my original point. "Grandma take me home." I don't want to play video games that make me feel terrible. I want to eat ice cream after dinner, watch TV, and wake up in my mother's arms. I don't want gorgeous, pixelated moral quandaries.

Oh, but sweet Jesus, I really do.

I DO.

I will take difficulties like this over reductionist swill any day of the week. And I'll listen to Incesticide and other brilliant albums the whole time.

But I have no intention of murdering anyone in the name of anyone else, as long as I can do so.


I might append a postscript to this once I finish Shadow of the Colossus, but don't hold your breath.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Text implosions are frustrating.

Ugh. I lost a pretty decently-written post concerning work (bad), writing (slow as molasses, but shaping up, especially with the impending arrival of a laptop), my future stint in Rome (not happening), and my head cold (annoying but hardly crippling). Fuck opening multiple windows, and viva tabs.

Which reminds me- I should download the new version of Firefox soon. Oh, and does anyone know if Shadow of the Colossus will ever be released on the Xbox? If it won't be, do me a favor and either buy/lend me a PS2. This game intrigues me greatly.

Friday, December 02, 2005

Proof that being good at what you do isn't always useful:

I didn't get laid off today.

In some way, I wish I had, but fuck it. Having a steady paycheck until I find a better job works for me, especially around this time of year. Regarding the job-tenure deal, though: fuck it. I don't want a "career." Never have. If that means I'm somehow less of an adult, fine, but at least I won't go to my grave as some grey-haired, Medicare-obsessed, mortgage-ridden old dude who bought into the "work all your life so you can spend retirement in senility" lie that too many people I know are buying into daily. I'd rather take my dirt nap poor, devoid of property, and rich in spirit/mind, thank you very much, even if that means I've got emphysema, scrape by on Social Security, don't own a home, and have no immediate family.

Or so I say now... but you know what? Fuck your American Dream, your western capitalism, and your suburban complacency, especially if you claimed to dislike such things in the first place. I'm gonna try to stick to my guns as long as I can, even if it earns scorn from supposedly "better" members of society.

Li Po over Byron any motherfuckin' drunken day of the week.

Better to go like a Chinese poet than a goddamned English nobleman.

"Another victim of a slaughter prophecy"

Twelve hours from now, I will know whether or not I will still have a job with my current employer. Whatever the outcome, I remain apathetic.

In the meantime, life is good: riffs on vinyl via headphones, beers with Ashley, John Thomason's Fix Bayonets!, a fresh paycheck, and a paying proofreading gig courtesy of Len Bracken. Fuck some goddamned job; I've got what matters.