You Arrogant Bastard

on the road again

the weekend was longer than rocco and i am happy to be home. i took a bit of an excursion to philadelphia so my parents could get drunk and sing willie nelson songs. "could not you do that at home?" i would have asked, but i chose to sleep the way up with the help of the molasses-like pounding rhythms of kruder dorfmeister. we visited this "italian market" which wasn't really italian or a market. it was more like chinatown with regular-width eyes. booths of fresh fish and fruit. agressive foreigners hawking their wares. on the way in i heard some people talking about boxing. yeah, boxing. these people are living in their own world of boxing, cheese steaks ordered with specific lingo, and "water ice"... which many of you know as shave(d) ice. i've heard shave ice named as many things, but never water ice. and it was as available as syphilis is in baltimore... every street corner had its water ice pavilion. anyway, now i know why deli g is so fucked up. he comes from a twisted town. apparently lichman lived there too, so thats support for my theory. checked into a hotel with a nice view of downtown then walked practically across the city to this marina where we ferried into camden NJ to see this grateful dead/willie nelson show. they got some narrow streets in philadelphia, i say. i don't understand how a metropolis can function with two-lane streets downtown. i guess i am just used to the wide luxurious boulevards of washington DC. here's another picture of a homeless vendor.

anyway, the concert was about what i expected it to be. i was disappointed with the parking lot scene beforehand. i was expecting an insane drug flea market, but i wound up with a bunch of aged hippies cooking hot dogs out of the back of their SUVs and listening to the string cheese experiment. i was probably too early. we arrived far before doors and i took to wandering around. the tweeter center did not fill up until willie was nearly done, which leads me to believe that there was a larger festival outside than i had seen before. i didn't walk away completely disappointed, however. I met one interesting deadhead selling seemingly random goods next to his pickup truck. He had affixed a cardboard sign reading "shop" to one of his windows, so I was not apprehensive approaching him. There was a blanket with a few books scattered upon it, a table with some cookware, and a basket filled with rags, toys and perscription pills (?). i didn't ask what they were, but i did find out that the flask he was sipping from was...

"My own personal blend of fermented honey and mushrooms. I've been experimenting with some new combinations. You want to smell it?"

No thanks. You are an interesting man but your head is far too small for your neck, and as much as I like strangers, I will not smell the noxious fumes of a distilled drug cocktail that you cooked up in your pickup truck. Nothing personal, friend. I will instead hang around for a while and watch you try to sell a hula doll to the child of a hippie.

Well he didn't offer me a sip, which is ok because I wouldn't have taken it. I am glad he did not present me with the decision, however, or I would have spent the rest of the evening what my life would have been like if I had taken the honey-shrooms drink...

The tweeter center is like how i think the nissan pavilion is, since i have only walked by the pavilion to see shows in its parking lot, but basically you have a seated area covered with a roof and then a lawn behind it, with a sunken concrete walkway between them, so you have to climb some stairs to get to both the seats and the lawn. We got seats right at the front of the lawn, $5 rental folding chairs, and I had a clear view to the stage. I would later discover that the real show was not on the stage, but right below me in the sunken concrete walkway. security removed several shirtless, dreadlocked-but-white hippies for what i could only assume to be drug offenses. others offered their sympathies as security dragged them off. i couldn't help but watch the hilarious antics of two drugged out middle aged hipsters in purple tank tops trying to jump the concrete wall to get into the seated area, bypassing the security (a difficult feat even while sober). They were both eventually captured and told to remain on the lawn. Over the course of the willie nelson set, the lawn filled up. I was surprised how many songs I knew, since I don't own any of his cd's. He put on a good show, and for a 70 year old, he sounds damn good. The weed must condition his voice somehow. After his set, the parking lot must have got word that the Dead were about to begin because the walkway filled up with twirling dancers and acidheads preparing themselves. The foot traffic came to a halt to the dismay of the EVENT STAFF. During the Dead's sets, they became a flowing river of acid-induced hallucinogenic euphoria. I have never seen so many people dance with only themselves. The walkway was full and everybody was moving, twirling around. They all got along though, and their hippie garb made it seem likeconcrete walkway was in fact a forest-based natural musical utopia full of acidheads who couldnt really perform any bodily function other than awkwardly bouncing around. The sets played were pretty good, but I grew tired of the spacey jamming bullshit that they did during the second set. Maybe I would have liked it more if I was on fucking acid. I was shocked at the extended drum solo that they did, which probably converted 75% of the trips in the ampitheatre into bad ones. It would have horrified me... it sounded so primal and the visuals were creeping me out, and I was sober. They had this one visual projected onto the stage... it was a red and white mask that vaguely resembled jerry garcia without glasses, it was really kind of frightening... ah well, anyway. uhh... yeah so thats that, it was pretty good. If i go to another dead show i will have to pump something into my veins.
Post-show cheesesteaks and back to the hotel. We went to the Barnes Foundation in the morning, which is basically the personal art collection of a rediculously rich industrialist of the 20's and 30's. Apparently he made all his cash before the depression and hung it around his factories to improve worker morale. How did he make all this money, you ask? well, friend, apparently he invented some silver nitrate solution that prevents babies from getting ghonorrea. Yeah, you're laughing now, but they put it in our eyes, man. They put it in our eyes when we were born!

...Well that was my weekend. What the fuck is up with you?

soul searchin

well i'll summarize thursday quickly. it was a damn good day to say the least, and i could not have thought of a better way to welcome the summer season. nothing could match the joy i felt leaving carvalho, going back to bed for a dream that lasted an hour and a half but felt like three hours (you don't get that often), then waking up again at the call of tbag to meet him and jrussell and curtis at frisco's. on the way up i saw curtis, a good time to invite him to the solomon burke concert. so it was jrussell, curtis and i at the birchmere on thursday night. we arrived just in time to get tickets and a table near the back (no bad seats in the place however. its a nice place, real american music hall. all sorts of tacky shit glued to the walls and crazy sculputures of musicians, etc. you sit down to listen to the music). with the hundred dollar gift that would get us through the doors, we prepared ourselves for the bluesy soul sounds of the king of rock and soul mr. solomon burke. i went against the suggestion of the waiter and did not order the gumbo. i felt like a jerk, but it turned out to be ok... the waiter demanded a tip later on, and any time they do that, all bets are off. of course we were going to tip him, jrussell told him we were going to leave it on the table, as is the custom in the city where we came from. things are different out in the VA i suppose. its not like hes being tipped poorly at a show that eliminates the lower classes with a high cover charge and then sits the rich at large tables and puts a menu in front of their faces... you practically have to order something. well, the show was everything i had hoped for. delicious soul sounds from solomon. he played some of the old stuff and a lot of stuff off of dont give up on me. he even covered "sittin on the dock of the bay" and "stand by me" in a classic soul medley. it was extremely uplifting, and i was shocked at how well spoken he was... usually when you are a star from such an early age, you lack a real, well... vocabulary. i soon realized... this man solomon is a preacher! show me a preacher with a poor vocabulary, i say, and i will show you a church filled with hispanics. i kid.

anyway, with humor, happiness and a golden voice, solomon burke brought summer to us with the resounding thud of a 350 pound human hitting his zebra print chair after a ten second stand. you know he has 21 fuckin kids? two of em were there (candy and selassie).
after the show we crossed the river, looked without much success for the concert jruss was originally planning to go to, and wound up at Gbake's house, where summer was locked in position with a classic sit. 5 or 6 males watching family guy, crackin jokes in the cool air conditioning. 4 or 5 females too (gbake's sista #1 and her palz).

today i went to this ben harper/jack johnson joint out at bull run. all the music was in VA this week. lots of fun, lots of sun, lots of hay. at first i was pleased with the youth of the crowd but at the end i was fed up with them. i thought they were going to be peace loving hippies, but they turned out to be stoned out jocks who shouted shit thinking it was hilarious. i watched a couple females hit the ground, presumably too much drug or heat. they were carried off. jack johnson was as good as he could have been, his live show sounds almost identical to his cds, but i think his music is better to just chill out with and sit down... ben harper was damn damn good. all in all i think there were 3 bob marley covers, one marvin gaye cover, and one sublime cover. kid koala definitely didn't get his due. the man can cut records, and he has a sense of humor (but no self esteem). even the tracks he played between sets were really good.
well... we came home, by way of steak n egg, got beat by tbag in some ping pong. its 1 AM now, nobody wants to hang out, janet's outta town. i'm bored you wanna hang out a bit? ...fuck you then.... ill call you tomorrow or something. its ok, i'll go wash my hands with the free bar of soap i got at barbeque battle. and floss my teeth, i've actually been doing that lately.

before i head out i have something that might be interesting. its a website about the death of sam cooke. pretty interesting, didn't know he died in such a shameful fashion. but when you compare it to some of the other soul legends... well, at least he wasnt shot by his own father (rest in peace... i hope they dont tear down your childhood home). alright i'm starting to sulk, was this too long? i'm going to bed.
i was borrrrrrrrrrrrrn by the river.... in a little tent...

its a family affair

I'll have to describe this in reverse order because i want to keep the evening's events fresh in my mind. Today was the annual BARBEQUE BATTLE down on pennsylvania avenue. if there is an occasion that could jolt my hometown pride more than this, i cannot currently think of it. yes, a rite of summer this battle is, albeit completely falsely advertised (not only was there no violence, but the closest thing to barbeque that i could afford was the smoke blown in my face from the various traveling grills parked in DC for the weekend. airborne barbeque dust! make the best of the scenario. i was cleaned out after paying that entrepreneur ALAPO). seven bucks gets you a medley of free samples and at least a couple of good bands, and a whole lot of colloquialisms (pussy nigga what you doin?).

i managed to rise above the relentless suggestions of abandonment from the twosome i travelled downtown with ("dude... whats the deal?") and enjoyed myself despite the desertion after citizen cope. Citizen Cope. [this site isnt that good but his official website blows, i think dreamworks is/has dropping/dropped him. the nofewest current says he is on arista now. new album titled "the revival series" due out next year] ah yes, cope. another rite of summer. god bless him and his alma mater. more pride.
he played all the old classics, but they were a bit rusty. his new stuff was dead on and he continues to impress. when he played one of them at the black cat... something about a highway and a woman in the back seat shes my wife... i forget the title now, but it has developed. it sounds so god damn good. its hard to believe that a gent appearing so inarticulate when he talks to the audience can be such a damn damn damn good songwriter.
the highlight of the show was the lanky jamaican who was either:
(a) unfathomably wasted, or (b) a pleasant jamaican
and danced without stops for the entire set like it was his last day alive. "If you don't know Citizen Cope, you're lame" he said at one point, and then he started counting people (that was g baker's tale, credit to him) charlotte showed up and got some photographs of him and a toothless homeless man that showed up about halfway through the set with a bright red hat and a bright blue whistle and bore a frightening resemblance to marion barry. clerence greenwood cracked a smile. maybe i can get a copy of the foto..? when the set ended, tbag and gbake decided to take their leave... presumably to go back uptown, gather either margot or marisa, and then come back downtown for a shorter period of time and buy ice cream or whatever the kids are doing these days. tbag quote:

I don't care about Chuck Brown

i walked with the other group- those still in relentless pursuit of sophomore poon. i guess i should call it junior poon now- until i spotted a don's john and RELIEVED MYSELF.

after cope was the godfather of go-go, mr. chuck brown. as jrussell would tell you, if you think the homeless dancers were wild early on, wait til you see chuck brown. the outside of the chain link fence was laden with the homeless, grinning toothlessly, and those too cheap to buy a ticket, all singing, all dancing. i am embarrassed to admit that this was the first time i have seen chuck brown, but i was surely not disappointed. oh, i wasn't disappointed with EU feat SUGAR BEAR before citizen cope either. they covered "family affair". anyway... chuck brown opened with it dont mean a thing... (if it aint got that go go swing).. im not gonna pretend that i know whether or not that is the actual title. he then played a couple old favorites before a roughly 45 minute period where he yielded the mic to a couple of others who covered the 50 cent song about being a P-I-M-P, and that hot new BEYONCe track "crazy in love". nothin like a go-go cover when you aren't motivated enough to shell out the 60 bucks it would cost to see the real artist out in rural VA. chuck got back on the mic with his white horn section and covered glenn miller "in the mood". alright... listen to me:
if there is anything that says "DC" more than chuck brown covering a duke ellington song directly in front of the national archives and just paces away from the capitol building, i would like to hear it. i would like to fucking hear it!!!
he closed out the set, of course, with bustin' loose, putting a nice cap on the evening.
my satisfaction was soured a bit, however, when during the 12 minute layover at gallery place, i was reminded of the rediculous trash that dwells just outside our city limits. i happened to catch the beginning of the crowd sifting out of MCI from what i gathered was a WWF event (from the conversation of four obese women in "hardy boyz" t-shirts. memorable quote:

[southern accent]
"I love coming into the city, but the clubs are getting so ghetto. [resentfully] So GHET-TO.

did i mention it pisses me off when people use euphemisms that wind up being just as offensive as the racially charged connotations of the statement they were intending to sugarcoat? SUGAR BEAR!!!!) uhh anyway, yeah, i got back to the house and here i am, wasting my time logging my superciliousness (you see, i find new words for 'arrogant' so it doesnt sound repetitive)

my ride is here. soon i will describe what i did TWO DAYS AGO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! nite

real fucking preacher!

so we all know we like to pry into other people's business... this is the solid, solid foundation on which the entire 'internet journal' network is based... but who do we want to know about the most? thats right. fuckin' PREACHERS.
so check out real live preacher

Hollowed Be Thy Name.
These people asked me to do a wedding in a hollow church. I shit you not. A hollow church.

well i like it. how often do you get to hear a preacher say shit? or not have him rape you? yeah i got nothin. oh yeah check this shit out. it never fails to entertain, if you got nothing else to do. it executes the quintessential trend of 2001-02: combining an oversaturation of patriotism with a dearth of knowledge. don't worry! patriotism > knowledge. heres one

“On the northeast and southeast corners will be four 50 story office buildings. Two of the towers will be equipped with an angled slope with a groove down the center, allowing for emergency escape by sliding down a plastic mat (like they do in luge or bobsled courses).

god bless america!
here's saul's pic. i like it just because it wasnt a dead body.
sleep well. tomorrow ends the junior year.

parallel robert

and so ends another exciting portion of the fun-handy "week's end". what awaits tomorrow is primarily standing up, conducting interviews and procrastinating. what i can say is that the following items that i received on thursday have served me well... the flaming lips cd, which has been brightening up my car rides, shoulda got the fucker last august, the tropical-beverage print boxer shorts which have uhh... served their purpose i guess, which isn't really all that difficult for an item whose primary purpose is to serve as a barrier between your brown brown feces and the outside world. the big lights i have not yet used, but i can't wait to use em. filming at night! finally the grail is mine.

speaking of feces, the 7-11 tonight held quite a bit more philosophy than i usually expect it to (and my standards are pretty high..). the aisles were littered with small notecards holding quotes from famed american authors and philosophers, carefully placed between sodas or microwavable burritos. i'm not sure if these are all accurate... are they? well anyway, heres what i hold in my damp pocket:

"The ballot is stronger than the bullet." ~ Abraham Lincoln.
"Term, holidays, term, holidays, till we leave school, and then work, work, work till we die." ~C.S. Lewis
"Hitch your wagon to a star" ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
"There never was a good war or a bad peace" ~Benjamin Franklin
"But a man who doesn't dream is like a man who doesn't sweat. He stores up a lot of poison." ~ Truman Capote

Was that the best Emerson quote they could get? And if that Lincoln quote is accurate, he must have wound up feeling like a pretty huge dumbass, because I don't recall him dying as a result of a BALLOT wound to the head. Ha ha ha Stove pipe hat ? get with the program.

Anyway, uhh, sorry if this is all unintelligible. You know how weekends get...
I'll just go back and edit it to make myself look like less of a moron. Gimme a few more days then the fun really begins

That's why I have the microchip

This seems to be a reasonable enough time to start this up. So if I had the capability to travel through time, the first thing I would do is find out where I was concieved, and the second thing I would do would be to visit the mansion of Dr. Emmett Brown and warn him of the fire that would eventually consume his house, as well as pursue a method for harnessing the power of the lightning bolt in order to generate the 1.21 "jigowatts" (whatever the fuck those are) needed to send me back to Hill Valley 1985. But the third thing I would do would be go back to March or February, or whenever I set up my first "blogue" and copy my pompous little "introductory entry" word for word. Yes, I am lazy like that. Or if I was that fucker Trevor, I would say, "yes, I possess said quality of indolence." .... and with that, I uphold the tradition of insulting trevor in one of my premiere weblog entries as established by Ma$e and Tom. Yeah well as I tried to say back then, in different words I am sure, I am going to try to keep this as free of pomp and cirCUMstance as possybl. Minimal dropping of names to protect the innocent, or something like that. I'm sure, taken in context, people would know exactly what the fuck is going on. And then you will feel all cool because you picked up on the subtext. By way of links, today I send you merely to the Cocaine In Motion Common Weblog because I am proud of the coding that went into that thang.