Monday, January 15, 2007

I'll never stop fucking up

So I's installed the iTuneage once again, cause I heard that Ricky Gervais had a podcast. Yes, I'm determined to find out about things at least six months after the fact. And then post them here like I'm doing some sort of service for anybody. I guess being a friendless recluse has its downside. I should probably venture out into the throngs of people yelling "hey faggot!" at me and find a kind-hearted lass who'll let me slip my hand down the front of her jeans. Then I won't be so far gone. I could call up an old friend and have something to talk about other than, "uh, I've been doing a podcast with suicidal themes." Maybe I'd fall asleep before six am.
But not tomorrow. Sometime, like, later this week. The basement don't judge me. The basement forgives all. Besides, I've got Blue Humans and Infest mp3s to download. I need to make angry posts on IMDB message boards and never check for responses because it's too emotionally taxing. People will know what I think about Nathan Barley. I need to tell people about how Dillo liked my last tape but never do anything about getting my new material released. I need to whine about my completely solvable personal problems on a blog that people barely tolerate as it is. I need to read Reggie Queequeg reviews and, 'midst the enjoyment, feel vaguely jealous of what a genuinely nice person he seems to be. I need to see if I can scrape any more resin out of the inside of my pipe. I mean, the ol' plate is full and teetering, yknow.
Anyways, it seems like the podcasts you download in iTunes can't be listened to on your computer, you have to put them on your iPod. What kind of ridiculous bullshit is that? It's on my hard drive, it's in fuckin iTunes. Just let me listen to it. It's three in the morning, I'm not looking around for that two-inch shuffle piece of garbage the phone company gave me. It's not like I want to save the antics for my mid-afternoon power jog. Just put Gervais' voice in my ears. Now! I mean, I could be wrong, but I tend to understand computers more than I understand life. Not that I understand computers all that well.
I have no aversion to pop, I just kinda know the drill. Like, where you listen to it every day for a week and then never again. Where's the mystery? So I can't tell you what I'll think about this Jay Reatard album a week from now, but it's mighty groovy for the now. Tightly written little tunes with lyrics about blood visions and everybody being dead. I'm not gonna act like I've heard the Reatards or the Lost Sounds before, but thisn's a goodn.
Speaking of Charles Brooker, go to the long defunct Tv Go Home. Fake tv listings by a completely bitter misanthrope. You'll like it. My personal fave:
7:55 This Is The Rest of Your Life
Disheartening existential drama in which a haunted figure wanders through the world's most barren landscape, pausing occasionally to deliberately crack themselves in the fucking eye with a rock.

& Youtubes!

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