Once it's out, there's no getting it back in the tube.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010


I started a tumblr a few months ago. At first I only used it to reblog my friend Josh's post and every once in awhile I'd post a youtube clip. I planned to save any real writing for this blog. But the thing is that Tumblr is much, much easier to use than blogger. And it looks so much nicer. So I'm pretty much just posting (regularly!) on my Tumblr now:


Come on over!

Yeah, I know it looks a little weird, but it's easier to get the hang of it if you just create a Tumblr account and look at it through the Dashboard (you'll have to click the little "Follow" button at the top of my Tumblr for my posts to appear in your dashboard.) Also, for now you can't leave comments, but you can ask me a question, which is pretty much the same as leaving a comment.

I'm not getting rid of this blog, but I don't know how often I'm going to post anything here.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

This post is brought to you by a Cranberries music video I watched this morning that reminded me of middle school

Several years back Nick Hornby wrote a collection of essays all about different songs. The first essay was about a Teenage Fanclub song, and it started with a charming little recollection about how Teenage Fanclub were playing at the benefit/opening for one of his other books, and during their sound check they were playing one of his favorite songs, and in that moment he knew it was going to be a wonderful evening. It was a perfect little memory told as only Nick Hornby can. But then, as Missy Elliott might say, he puts his thing down, flips it and and reverses it, as he goes on to say that while you might expect a book of essays about music to be "straightforward time-and-place connections" this is not what the book is going to be about.


He explains that if a song simply reminds him of a moment, then doesn't mean anything to him as music, it's just as a memory, and he's not going to write about it because he doesn't want to write about memories.

I have thought about that statement anytime I've ever written about a song, a book, a movie. Because I take the opposite approach. If a song doesn't remind me of a moment, then I don't really have anything to say about it. The only thing I want to write about are memories.

I always thought that the best job ever would be to be a movie critic, or a music critic, or a book critic, or--and this is the best one--a food critic. But it turns out that I'm a terrible reviewer. I'm total crap at objectively breaking things down and analyzing the parts and the sum of the parts, and then explaining why they work, or why they don't work. Mostly because I don't really care. I just like certain things, and I don't particularly care to spend a lot of time thinking about why. I like things that manage to capture and hold my tiny little attention span, and make me feel happy or nostalgic. Anytime I sit down and try to write a review of something, the only thing I produce is a personal reaction, and maybe no one really cares about how that this one song totally reminds me of that one time in sixth grade. But that's all I have to offer you.

I don't know the first thing about melody, tones, harmony, etc. I can't separate one musical instrument from another. I don't even really pay attention to lyrics at all, unless someone points them out to me*, or unless the song is written by Prince. The only thing I got is that sometimes a song, or even a whole musical artist will remind me of a particular moment or period in my life, and I can talk about that. It's not even talking about the music at all. It's just talking about me. Me, me, me, me.

That's probably why Nick Hornby got a book published and all I have are my sad little explanations of why I gave a book four stars on Goodreads rather than three, even though it is probably a three, but it reminded me of the lumpy recliner in my parents' old house.

*For example, in the song "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" my friend Erin pointed out how perfect this line is: "And I never had a girl looking any better than you did." And now every time I listen to that song (which is pretty damn often, and I'm fine admitting that), that line stands out a bit to me.

Sunday, November 01, 2009

I just ran the NYC marathon

Everything hurts too badly for it to sink in. I'm going to go drink a bunch of beer and go to bed. I love you all.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Speaking of celebrity sightings

I wish I were someone who could draw from memory. The other day during my lunch break, I saw this guy at the local branch of the public library that I go to, and he looked really familiar. But I couldn't tell if he looked familiar because he was a famous person, or because he's just someone I've seen before. Does that ever happen to you? Maybe you have to live somewhere like New York or LA where celebrity sightings happen fairly frequently. Like, one time I was walking to the subway after work with my co-worker, and we passed this guy walking in front of the business school. I turned to my co-worker and asked, "Was that one of my scholars? He looked really familiar. Did I process his visa documents?" And she was like, "Dude. That was Gabriel Byrne."

So, yeah, this guy at the library. He could have been that guy from that show, or he could have just been the maintenance guy in my office building. If I could draw from memory, I could put together a little police sketch, post it to the Internet, and you could all tell me if he famous. Problem solved.

Some sort of crazy future-technology eyeball camera thing would work, too. Like, in the future, we'll all be able to recall any image that we've ever seen, screen cap it in our brains, and upload it to Flickr or whatever through brainwave Bluetooth wireless technology. Eventually, we'll probably be able to upload video, too.

Monday, October 26, 2009

Sadly, he was not playing a bango

I sat next to Ed Helms for about 20 minutes in Washington Square Park on my lunch break. Okay, not right next to him, but a few benches away. We were the only two people sitting on that particular row of benches so it would have broken NYC's Code of Personal Space to sit on the bench next to him. I say it counts as next to him because there weren't any people sitting in between us. He looked over at me, we made eye contact, I smiled, he smiled back.

With this encounter, I set a personal best for spending the longest amount of time in close proximity to a famous person. The parameters for judging your personal records include:

1. Physical distance between you and the celebrity
2. Amount of time spent in said celebrity's company
3. Level of celebrity of the person

I would say that my previous two personal bests included the time I rode in an elevator with Lou Ferrigno for 8 floors when I was nine years old (points for proximity and level of celebrity, but amount of time was short), and the time I sat next to Elia from the 2nd season of Top Chef for half an hour at a Starbucks on Lexington (points for amount of time and proximity, but negative points for considering a reality show contestant a celebrity). An honorable mention for the time that I bowled in the lane next to the members of Grizzly Bear.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

One of the few instances where I am 100% sure I would have swept the category in Jeopardy!

How do you not know the Beastie Boys and/or LL Cool J? Are you deaf? For shame, Gonzaga. For shame.

Remember, years back when I actually updated my blog and I got A LOT of shit when I made fun of the blind chick who was on Teen Jeopardy! because she pretty much sucked? It was after that one blind dude totally killed on Jeopardy!—back when the max you could stay on was five nights and he coasted through all five nights and then won…wait for it…a car—so I had high expectations. Am I going to get shit for making fun of this girl’s obvious hearing disability? Bring it.

Saturday, October 10, 2009


Chris is peeing and also eating an ice cream cone at the same time. I know this because he always pees with the door open.

Me: Dude.

Chris: What? What I am supposed to do with the ice cream cone? I can't just set it down.

Me: I could hold it for you.

Chris: No way! You can't be trusted not to eat it.