Did I Mention That I Moved?

I think, a few posts ago, I mentioned that I was moving to Lawrence Hall, on Brattle Street in Cambridge. Here's a photo:



Lesley tells people that they acquired the dorm from the Episcopal Divinity School because they had an overflow of students and the Episcopals were kind of lacking, but in reality, it's a school for mutants and all the real shit goes down underground.

Ask Me About My Thousand Yard Stare. It Didn't Sell On E-Bay, So I've Still Got It, And I Think We Should Talk About It.

So you guy's see the Patriots rape the Vikings last night? How sweet was that?

I went to a Halloween Party at my friend Steve's apartment this past Saturday, and it was a good time, all in all, but the one thing that I do want to make a note of is this costume that blew everyone else's out of the water.

There was a kid who went as MySpace, which was pretty good, but nothing beat the kid who went as a robot that should shoot fireworks out of his enormous robot penis.

I'm not kidding. Just picture this set of black spray painted boxes wandering awkwardly through the streets of Allston, shooting rockets out of a massive tube attached to the groin. It was amazing.

Tonight actually is the real Halloween, and from what I've heard, the wiccans are especially excited because this brand of Halloween only comes once every twenty years.

That could easily be a lie, someone just told me that (something about goats turning into huge bats the size of goats, killing other animals, but then we drink their blood), but whether or not it's true doesn't really matter, because even if it's got some kind of merit, we're still talking about wiccan's here, and they're completely out of their minds.

Their dark, small, minds.

You really want a good scare for Halloween? You know how it's always scary walking through cemetaries and shit? Try waiting until like 11 and then walking from Mass Ave to Forest Hills along the orange line path. The ghosts in the cemetary are really just your eyes playing tricks on you, but the insane drug addicts at Stony Brook are very, very real.

Uhhhhh! OOOOHHHHH! Boo! Giiiiivvvveeee Meeeeee YYooooouuuuurrr Sneeeeaaaakkkkeeerrsssss!!!

- - - -

I have a lot of aspirations. I'd like to win an award for something one day. I realized last night, lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling, that I actually wouldn't want to win a Tony Award. Don't ask me why, I just don't find them appealing. I've got nothing against theater, it's just something about the Tony Award.

You Should Buy This Album, And Know This Story

The Walkemen's newest release, Pussy Cats Starring The Walkmen, is a remake of John Lennon And Harry Nilsson's original release. If you've never heard of the album, here's a bit from Wikipedia:

1974 found Nilsson back in California, and when John Lennon moved there during his separation from Yoko Ono, the two musicians rekindled their earlier friendship. Lennon was intent upon producing Nilsson's next album, much to Nilsson's delight. However, their time together in California became known much more for heavy drinking and drug use than it did for musical collaboration. In a widely publicized incident, they were ejected from the Troubadour nightclub in West Hollywood for drunken heckling of the Smothers Brothers. Both also caused property damage during binges, with Lennon trashing a bedroom in Lou Adler's house, and Nilsson throwing a bottle through a thirty-foot hotel window.

To make matters worse, Nilsson ruptured a vocal cord during the sessions for this album, but he hid the injury due to fear that Lennon would call a halt to the production. The resulting album, Pussy Cats, which may charitably be described as "uneven", was a shock for listeners who knew Nilsson as one of the best singers of his generation.

If that doesn't make you want to head out right now and buy both albums, I don't know what will.

Here's to rock and roll.

I'm So Out Of Here

I got a call on my cellphone today from the director of my dorm (oddly named Matt McDonald, my brother's name) and found out that I'm slated to move into Lawrence Hall at the Episcopal Divinity School in Harvard Square, about a half mile from Lesley's main campus and maybe a mile from the Porter Exchange building, where all of my classes are.

Lawrence is the dorm I was supposed to move into when I first got here, but I've been living in the freshman-designated White Hall since September.

I was excited about this move, because I'll finally be surrounded with people my own age, and when you're twenty, living with eighteen year olds can be a trying experience. Take this, for example:

Now keep in mind, this is my last day in this room.

I'm reading in my bed (Marisha Pessl's Special Topics In Calamity Physics, a great book, by the way.) and someone knocks on the door.

"It's open."
"..."
"Come in, it's open."
WHAM WHAM WHAM
"I said it's open man, jus-"
WHAM WHAM WHAM
"Hold on, hold on..."
WHAM WHAM WHAM

I open the door and it's Duke, an illegal ex-roommate with a grill that says "PIMP" across the four front teeth. He pushes his way into the room.

"Yo Where's Brian?"
"Brian's not here."
"Where he at?"
"I think he's at practice."
"When he get back?"
"I have no idea."
"You take a picture with your computer?"
"What?"
"Your computer take pictures?"
"No."
"Yo take my picture with this money."
"What?"
"Take my picture with this money, Ima show these motheafuckin faggots wassup."

So Duke hands me a disposable camera and pulls what looks to be about twelve hundred dollars and change out of his wallet, then poses, first giving me the middle finger and sneering, then throwing a gang sign (an OK sign turned ninety degrees, exposing the pinky, ring, and middle fingers, which vaguely look like an E, for East Coast, I'm guessing.)

After I take the pictures he alludes to a "faggot that's been sayin' shit to [his] girl" and leaves the room.

Five or so minutes later, my roommate of the last four days, Bryon, is thrown through the door and into his chair. It's Duke again, "Take my picture with the computer bitch."

So after a bit of manhandling, Duke manages to get Bryon to take several photos of him (again, with the money) and proceeds to post them on MySpace.

Alright, yeah, the drug money, the gang signs, the middle finger, the grill, that's pretty gangsta. The photos? Well, that's a little vain, but I guess even gangstas need documentation, but MySpace?

I wasn't aware of the fact that street cred had hit the international circuit via online social networking websites.

Did I mention that I'm headed about a half mile down the road on Friday? The only thing I know about this new hall is that a girl named Lindsay from my Modern Drama class lives there. She says very little in class, is extremely nordic looking, my height, wears a lot of North Face clothing, and has a boyfriend who I am sure is not Duke.

I'm going to listen to Spoon and go watch Sophie Innerfield make her live debut at All Asia.

White people music, you dig?

Another Conversation With My Mother

beebeworkerbee: just faxed the request to remove your exclusion on the lincoln. welcome to my driving world.
colonial wankers: haha
beebeworkerbee: you will notice how nice I keep the inside of my car right?
colonial wankers: im gonna race it on 128 while youre away
colonial wankers: 2 fast 2 furious
beebeworkerbee: you do know how important that car is to me Mr. Fast?
colonial wankers: TOKYO DRIFT
beebeworkerbee I am almost 50 and it's the first car I've ever owned.
beebeworkerbee: Even with total insurance, I would not be able to replace that, right? you know where I am on this?
colonial wankers: it's worth it's weight in chicks!
beebeworkerbee: It certainly is when I'm in it.

Piebald

So I'm walking down Mass Ave. late last night, and no one's around. In the distance, I see this guy walking towards me. As I get closer, I realize it's Andrew Bonner, the bass player in Piebald. The weird thing is, I'm listening to Piebald's "100% Good," so not only am I listening to his band, I'm listening to his killer bass line on my iPod. He was listening to his iPod too, and, for a moment, I thought that we were both going to turn into black silhouettes and dance (to Piebald) while waving our respective iPod's around ourselves, making crazy light ribbons or something.

Didn't happen though. Maybe next time.

Conversation With My Mother

beebeworkerbee (3:33:00 PM): He thinks he has figured out how they constructed Stonehenge. Oh, you got a McSweeney's magazine in the mail. Believer.
colonial wankers (3:34:26 PM): oh, good
beebeworkerbee (3:41:06 PM): Oh. Question. why do you have a bag full of camel boxes?
colonial wankers (3:41:57 PM): im saving those for a collage
colonial wankers (3:42:30 PM): there is other refuse in there as well. im beginning to think it is a doomed project.
beebeworkerbee (3:45:24 PM): in my mind it is
beebeworkerbee (3:46:54 PM): the car is just a nightmare. Maybe it could be an art "installation". Fill the car with trash, not just the backpack. oh, not trash, refuse. Such a nice word.
beebeworkerbee (3:47:38 PM): Have any idea where the title to that car is?
colonial wankers (3:48:06 PM): not the faintest.
colonial wankers (3:48:21 PM): it could be in the glove box with the registration
colonial wankers (3:48:29 PM): theres a binder thing in there
beebeworkerbee (3:50:04 PM): no. the binder thing was on the floor of the way-back.
beebeworkerbee (3:50:26 PM): the glove box contained something growing and several camel boxes
colonial wankers (3:50:33 PM): growing?
beebeworkerbee (3:50:35 PM): as well as a native american cigarette box
colonial wankers (3:50:39 PM): maybe it is an art installation
beebeworkerbee (3:50:41 PM): yes, growing.
beebeworkerbee (3:50:46 PM): it was waving at me
beebeworkerbee (3:50:53 PM): it was soft and squooshy
colonial wankers (3:51:05 PM): maybe super cigarettes will grow out of it
beebeworkerbee (3:51:07 PM): it was also found attached to loose change
beebeworkerbee (3:51:22 PM): like barnacles, but more sewage -y
beebeworkerbee (3:52:44 PM): I thought I was going to have to use goo gone on my hands after being in the car. I don't think I've ever encountered that kind of dirt before. The steering wheel actually gave me the dry heaves.
beebeworkerbee (3:53:40 PM): I only hope WGBH will take it.