Gone under sea

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Listen to this, vol. 3

Electric Renaissance- Belle and Sebastian

Monochrome in the 1990's
You go disco and I'll go my way
Monochrome in the 1990's
You go disco and I'll go my way
Monochrome in the 1990's
You go disco and I'll go Funkadelic, man
Is the way to go
So drop a pill and then say hello

I don't like Mondays, part II

because today was a public holiday and i have to work tomorrow, because a certain boy who makes my stomach drop is flying over utah in a plane bound back to new york as i type, because the united states is engaging in "psychological warfare" with iran, because i thought authentic psychological warfare existed in the restrooms of junior high girls, because i would rather have a junior high student making decisions about psychological warfare than the individual who is currently waging war with my mood swings and sensibilities, because i am listening to the magnetic fields and tomorrow i will listen to the whir of printers and bureaucracy from my miserable desk, because people are not meant to spend their lives in cubicles, because i feel stagnated, because even my stagnation is stagnated by my anal sense of responsibility, because i know procrastination will be unavoidable this week, because my mind is racing and i have to go to bed now even though san francisco smells of fresh rain and I would rather wile away the night pining and listening to mix tapes and drinking maker's mark and chain-smoking and gluing things onto other things and reading sometimes a great notion while watching the lights slowly dim into morning fog, but instead i will settle into bed because these are the things that we do.

I don't like Mondays

I am quite sad that Hunter Thompson has died.

Listen to this, vol. 2

Pet Shop Boys- Red Letter Day

Go to work and take your calls
Hang the fruits
of your labour on the walls
Such precision and care
What does it matter
if there's no one here to share?

Flowers in the garden
blue wine
the "Waiting for Godot"
and so much modern time?

Don't listen to this vol. 5

I like the Wang Chung song "Dance Hall Days." It reminds me of guys with spiked bleach-blonde hair and suspenders swaying through smoky dance clubs, dangling star earrings whipping wildly around half-shaved heads, and me sitting on my bed wishing I could immediately jump four years to sixteen so I could have boobs, wear make-up and kiss boys like Jake Ryan. When caught up in the strength of nostalgia, I admittedly often justify my liking for songs that I would not necessarily defend musically. Wang Chung is such a group.

And yet despite my nostalgic liking of some crap songs, there are some I can never, ever justify even on the basis of memories. I lost my virginity to Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes" (I know. I know), yet each time I hear that song I want to throw feces at strangers and break puppies in half using my molars. "Everybody Have Fun Tonight" is another song that incites my temper to very high levels despite any adolescent memories it might evoke.

I awoke this morning with this monster in my head the second my alarm went off, and am only able to think of two possible explanations for this horrific punishment:

1) Karma. This past weekend, while drunk, I pocketed a pack of cookies at a late-night Indian spot. I don't know why. While I originally thought that my karma for shoplifting eighty cents worth of cookies was the horrific heartburn I had to deal with following the late night take out, I now believe that the restaurant owner might be in cahoots with Wang Chung, and is thinking of a much more enduring and traumatizing penance.

2) I am a grammar nerd who is easily outraged by misplaced apostrophes and publicly displayed spelling errors. Because of this innate and nerdy tendency (that can probably be quite annoying to those who have to listen to my sermons on the subject), maybe I'm being called by a higher power to define what it means exactly to "wang chung."

If #2 is indeed true, I have come up with a definition based on the following song lyrics:

Rip it up - move down
Rip it up - move it down to the ground
Rip it up - cool down
Rip it up - get out what's inside of you

Wang chung: (Wăng chŭng)/ v.tr.
1) to dance around like a hysterical little brother with an extended tongue and a bowl cut in an effort to irritate one's older, cooler sister.
"Debbie's fat little brother was playing Nintendo and wang chunging all around our slumber party. What a goob!"
2) to barf cheap beer through one's nose
"Dude. This guy wang chunged all over my new Nike's after he pounded a 40oz. of Mickey's."
3) to lay a multi-colored, cold turd
"I ate some bad Thai and wang chunged this tan, grey and spinach colored cool beast in my pants."
n.
1) a sexual act involving a fruit, vegetable, garden tool and/or Earth, Wind and Fire
"I was stressed out from the work week when I ran into Phillip Bailey and Maurice White. We picked up an eggplant and a watering can, went back to my place, and had us a little wang chung!"
2) the act of frottage with other animal species
"In rural Costa Rica, one can often witness wang chung between fruit bats and rhesus monkeys."

Unless I am able to successfully exorcise this fucker soon, looks like I'll still be wang chunging tomorrow morning. Rip it up!