chris on January 22 2016
You don't know what you've got until it's gone they say. Once it's gone, you may never get it back, and if you do... it won't be the same. But from what you loose you gain in experience and vision, which is a very good thing. Like Hemingway said, "The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places." This isn't a rant. It's directly related to the theme in this song.
Alex on January 15 2016
Sometimes I get a little obsessed with a song. I'll listen to it a solid 10-15 times in a row and dissect everything about it. Generally after that glorious first day when I hear the song it just reminds me of my shamefully brief aural romance. What I'm trying to say is if I saw this track across the bar after lusting after it for a whole day I probably wouldn't acknowledge it. We could still be friends though, like maybe grab some coffee every month to not make things awkward.
Alex on January 05 2016
2016 - year of the monkey. Which can only mean one thing -- real life planet of the apes. I had a thought during New Years Eve while staring at a giant decorative fountain, does anyone else think its fucking strange we build these giant things that shoot water in the air for no purpose but to look at water being shot upwards? I think when aliens descend upon us they're going to be really disappointed in our opulence. "What form of power generation is this?" "Oh that? It's just shooting water upwards." "...This planet sucks."
chris on December 29 2015
So there is a Dominican dude with Tourettes that hangs out on my block. He tends to yell DIABLO! at all hours of the night and punch things. He really has it out for the garbage can and phone booth on the corner of Broadway and Hooper Street. I'm no Doctor, but his Turrets seems to be exacerbated by alcohol consumption, and he drinks about twelve 24oz Crazy Stallion malt liquors a day... The Arizona big cans of malt liquor. This morning he was doing something rather worrisome. While sitting in pouring rain on a milk crate at the base of a street lamp, he had pulled the wires out from the electrical company access point at the base, and had spliced in a boom box. Using his bare hands, he was wrapping the wires around the prongs of the electrical cord, only taking breaks to yell DIABLO and chug his Crazy Stallion. I'm going to go check on him in a few hours to make sure he isn't sizzling in a pool of his own urine.
