There is no God.

I found Penn Jillette's piece on NPR's This I Believe today really inspiring.
I really liked:
"Believing there is no God means the suffering I've seen in my family, and indeed all the suffering in the world, isn't caused by an omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent force that isn't bothered to help or is just testing us, but rather something we all may be able to help others with in the future. No God means the possibility of less suffering in the future."

Stay out till morning, sharp as knives

I saw the Spoon/AMC show with Bob and Matt last night. Now, the boys are both big time AMC fans (I like AMC, but they're on a different level. That said, I did realize I've now seen AMC three times and Eitzel solo twice.), and I am a big Spoon fan. They're pretty much my favorite American band going right now. In any event, AMC was great, even though the crowd was a bit unreceptive and Eitzel was all fat and ugly. Spoon played what can truly be called a blistering set, with highlights including the opening Beast and Dragon, Small Stakes, Paper Tiger, Infinite Pet and the closing Mathematical Mind. They must have played thirty songs, pretty much everything off Fiction and Moonlight, and a few off Girls. mebbe even one or two off Sneaks. It was the kind of show where four years from now, someone will be talking about Spoon and how they're the best thing ever, and I'll say, "You know, I saw them at the Wiltern in '05," and they'll say, "I hate you." The only real disappointments, and keep in mind, these aren't real disappointments, were Camera and Jonathan Fisk. They were both good, but I expect Fisk to be the best song I've ever seen each time I see it played.

Before the show, we ate at Orchid, this Vegas feeling karaoke bar/restaurant right by the Wiltern. It had waterfalls, plush velvet booths, and acid trip mutated orchid pillars. It also had some damn good food. We got Kalua roasted pork nachos with lomi lomi tomatoes as an appetizer, and I got an Ahi tuna Poke with more tomatoes, sweet Maui onion and soy sauce. Both were excellent, and Matt and Bob liked their dishes, too.
Orchid is definitely a place I have to go back to, if only to do booth karaoke.

After the show, I met up with the TNDC, and Nick's supposed to take us to the driving range in K-town, where apparently the balls are automatically teed up from below, and as soon as you hit one, a little door opens and another comes up.

Never before in my life have I said to myself, "I want that hard drive."

But the new LaCie brick drives look like giant Lego block.
And, they're stackable.
I can't find them on the LaCie site, and think that Lego may have something to say about these if LaCie didn't license the design, but lordy do I hope they are real.

[via engadget]

A true Rasta man cannot drink be drunk.

I and I is a complex term, referring to the oneness of Jah (God) and every human. Rastafarian scholar E. E. Cashmore: "I and I is an expression to totalize the concept of oneness, the oneness of two persons. So God is within all of us and we are in fact one people. I and I means that God is in all men. The bond of Ras Tafari is the bond of God, the bond of man. But man itself needs a head and the head of man is His Imperial Majesty Haile Selassie the first of Ethiopia." The term is often used in place of "you and I" or "we" among Rastafarians, implying that both persons are united under the love of Jah. The term "I" replaces "me", which is felt to turn the person into an object, whereas I emphasises the subjectivity of an individual.

However, I is indeed drunk. And sick.

All of this comes (apart from my empirically established drunkeness and sickness) via The Wikipedia, which can substitute for real knowledge as well as anything.

I have a code.

Yesterday I had a five and a half hour break between shifts. I knew if I went home, the chances of me coming back were slim. So after I finished my first shift, I went across the street and spent the next 4 hours seeing movies. No, not porn.
I saw the Chumscrubber (The Scientology Feel-good version of Heathers!) and Jarhead (Fuck you, Matt, I thought Sarsgaard was good).
I've been in denial about my cold for about four days. Tonight, I bought meself some chicken stock, a whole roast chicken, two carrots, and one onion. Then I pulled the legs off the chicken, the meat off its breast and wings, threw them in a pot (bones still in the legs, cause that's the key) with the carrots and onion chopped, then topped it with lots of pepper. Then I got out my trusty bottle of Jameson poured me a dram and set the pot to simmer.
Here I am, two bowls and two drams later, listening to 'Vampire' from Throw Down Your Arms.
Suddenly, work and the cold and the fights and the wars and the lack of money and the angst the sadness and the shit seem very far away.
Irish whiskey and reggae can solve everything.
Although, call me what you will, I know that sick and drunk, I will indeed well up with tears and a bit of impotent anger when I hear Sinéad sing 'War' in four or five songs.
Until that day, the dream of lasting peace, world citizenship and the rule of international morality will remain but a fleeting illusion to be pursued but never attained, everywhere is WAR.
So what?
I get righteously and idealistically angry and sentimental when I get drunk.

Today, today was alright.

Matt and I went to breakfast at the seed, which was followed by a trip to Amoeba to look for a record by UA. Amoeba let me down on that front, but I did get Sinéad O'Connor's Throw Down Your Arms and the 22-20s album used. And, standing in line, I spotted the new Rogue Wave. I bought the 10:1 EP on iTunes a few weeks ago, and have been looking forward to Descended Like Vultures, but didn't even know it was out. So three good records later, Matt and I were off to watch the SC game at Brian and Al's house.
Then there was some street football, and while my team lost 21-14, I did make a key sack, and Matt picked off a pass and ran it back for a touchdown.
Now, it is TiVoed Nip/Tuck and possibly food until Andy's improv show.

Oh, also, if you haven't noticed, Scott from Tokyo Calling commented on the last post and pointed me to more online UA content. Thanks, Scott. Love the podcast, and I'm extra chuffed to discover that you're a Jonathan Richman fan too.

Until next time.

It's the pepper.

I've been sitting in bed for about an hour trying to find something by UA, this Japanese singer that Scott from tokyo calling talks about in his latest podcast (look at me, I don't even know the preferred way to link to podcasts. I'm so out of lé loop). My only find has been two import albums on amazon. For like $35 each. I'll have to stop by Amoeba later, see if I can pick up anything cheaper. If you like podcasts, or Japan, or good things, you should give tokyo calling a listen. Along with Ben and Marina's Notes from Spain, it's one of my favorite podcast/blog things. Both have a nice stranger in a strange land feel to them, along with interesting mundanities of everyday life.

I also came into possession of an advance copy of the self-titled debut record by a band called The Voices early this week. They're from Wales (go Wales.) and have been compared to MBV, the Lilys, Low and Bowery Electric. You know, kinda shoegazer, drone pop stuff. Think Andy Bell in Mazzy Star with the Reid brothers singing. Anyway, it's been rocking my player all week, and you should check it out when My Kung Fu releases it on Monday. If you live in the UK. If not, I have no idea where to get it. Maybe it'll pop up on the iTMS.

And although those two paragraphs seem to only be linked by virtue of being about music, the album by The Voices makes me think of giant LED screens, shiny shiny buildings, hi-speed trains and masses of people. For which, I guess I have only Sofia Coppola to blame.

More later. Oh, and if you find any thing by UA, let a brother know.

Good RFID, bad RFID.

The bad RFID part actually inspired this, but, the title dictates that I give you good RFID first.
So, from Régine, over at what is probably my favorite techno/art/design blogazine, and just blog/news site in general, we-make-money-not-art:
Good RFID

And, from Wired and the US government:
Bad RFID

The bad RFID reminds me that my beloved passport, veteran of trips to Scotland, Greece, Israel, Iceland, Italy, Argentina, Germany, Ireland, Switzerland, etc., needs to be replaced next summer. Which I guess means I won't get one of the first round RFID passports. Which sounds like it's a good thing.

In other news, I had a brief flash of inspirado tonight standing outside the store on my break.
I have an idea for a new short play. Or maybe a long scene. Or maybe just a piece of something.

Hasta mañana.

Good Afternoon.

For brekkie/lunch I made myself a fairly good bachelor's stew of chicken broth, Katsuo Furikake and a can of tuna in oil with udon. With a side salad, no less. Then, while watching some Australian stand up show and trying to think of what to call this, I encountered a tough mother udon noodle. It would not get in my spoon. So I tilted...
And thus, Soup on feet.
My other blog was blown up recently, that's why I'm dressed like this, in my dressing gown. My other blog was blow up with all my posts in it, you see. I didn't realize I'd be coming to a party.
In reality, this blog is just to chronicle me spending christmas alone in Los Angeles, but I figured I should give you people a good solid month and a half of background before I start looking for sympathy.
I guess I should tell you about myself.
Me=29
I have a job that I hate that's really not all that much to complain about, but like all of my other 'dream' jobs (bartender, CD store manager) it's nothing like I thought it would be.
I'm an aspiring writer who hasn't written anything in three or four months.
I like design, travel, photography, reading, and all the other things that the popular kids like.
I often feel out of place.
Sometimes, when with a group of friends, I will suddenly notice that I haven't said a word in twenty minutes, but I will feel like I was part of everything they were talking about.
I pretty much quit reading blogs about a year ago. And pretty much quit writing mine about the same time.
I get nauseous when I go to work. I drink too much coffee.
I think consumerism is bad, but I really covet things.
That's all for now. I need to hop in the shower before I drive to work.