tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27950976771601461432024-02-07T22:04:05.375-08:00bigrgunzphamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-75334852504071504552009-06-04T17:16:00.002-07:002009-06-04T17:44:00.602-07:00For Those Whose Blogs I Used to ReadI smoked in the rain, under an awning, after I spent another day immersed in the sciences that have awed and befuddled me for four days. Sciences and massive institutions, like the National Institutes of Health or, better, our national government have forced upon me weird and immediate interpersonal realities.<br /><br />I really wanted to write about why listening affectionately to The Hold Steady locked me into a form-fitting and helpless perspective. While I was under this awning, I thought about some things that I might say to people with whom I am familiar. I thought about experiences I have, mostly mundane, that I probably won't share with anyone. I monologized about some things that I haven't done and will probably never do but think would be cool. I came to a certain realization that I could only come up with these ideas by placing myself in some abstract future where I am able to talk affectionately about my current predicament as if it were the past. Of course, if I could claim a certain level of sincerity for the things that I do, I would be in no dream state. I would be acting. I would not be reminiscing about the present. The present that cannot actualize from this viewpoint. Paralysis, dog. "Hold steady" is not healthy to assume as action. The Hold Steady suggests inaction and nostalgia. I was 16 or 17 when How a Resurrection Really Feels really got to me. I assume their past-tense narration. Oh I inflate what I don't do, turning it around a couple times in my mind by assuming a peer's perspective. Can you see how this can end badly?<br /><br />Gonna eat starbursts and watch <span style="font-style: italic;">Kids</span> now.phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-53664852725552736552009-03-27T01:42:00.001-07:002009-03-27T01:42:25.632-07:00:)When a man appears the world bears down on him and breaks his back. There are always too many rotten pillars left standing, too much festering humanity for man to bloom. The superstructure is a lie and the foundation is a huge quaking fear. If at intervals of centuries there does appear a man with a desperate, hungy look in his eye, a man who would turn the world upside down in order to create a new race, the love that he brings to the world is turned to bile and he becomes a scourge. If now and then we encounter pages that explode, pages that wound and sear, that wring groans and tears and curses, know that they come from a man with his back up, a man whose only defenses left are his words and his words are always stronger than the lying, crushing weight of the world, stronger than all the racks and wheels which the cowardly invent to crush out the miracle of personality. If any man ever dared to translate all that is in his heart, to put down what is really his experienc,e what is truly his truth, I think then the world would go to smash, that it would be blown to smithereens and no god, no accident, no will could ever again assemble the pieces, the atoms, the indestructible elements that have gone to make up the world.<br />-Henry Millerphamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-33754891406075061762009-03-11T23:57:00.001-07:002009-03-11T23:57:28.478-07:00<embed src="http://www.seeqpod.com/cache/seeqpodSlimlineEmbed.swf" wmode="transparent" width="300" height="80" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="domain=http://www.seeqpod.com&playlistXMLPath=http://www.seeqpod.com/api/music/getPlaylist?playlist_id=7a9ef94896"></embed>phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-48325429637338173952009-03-08T17:40:00.000-07:002009-03-08T17:43:23.043-07:00I want to take his placeDo you have a Hippy Johnny?<br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/B_exvKnrK6g&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/B_exvKnrK6g&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object>phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-10591595095344643252009-02-27T18:04:00.001-08:002009-02-27T18:05:20.965-08:00Ever go fishing and get your car stolen by a DJ and a mariachi singer? It kind of happens like this.<br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Hy5iQubfV5s&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Hy5iQubfV5s&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-76004932434381217152009-02-26T19:45:00.000-08:002009-02-26T22:33:36.461-08:00it's cramping my style, dogNo distinguishing the boys from the scene here.<br /><br /><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/35YSM7zbV1w&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/35YSM7zbV1w&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="385" width="480"></embed></object><br /><br />I guess part of the reason I admire the Beastie Boys is their ability to switch up styles without bating critics. God they've had so many different yet defining styles. Somehow their evolution never meant selling out. They didn't just change their clothes but also their attitudes. Which makes the achievement that much more bewildering.<br />It's as if their audience has more respect for them than they have for themselves. They've gotten worse no doubt. I won't post any of their really recent stuff.<br /><br />1999:<br /><br /><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DnY-hmDvTPs&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DnY-hmDvTPs&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="385" width="480"></embed></object><br /><br />They certainly don't belong to much anymore. From a rooftop to a river walk, PVC pipes to moonshoes, Kilts to onesies. No one is cramping this style. They keep each other good company.<br /><br />O this makes me weary.phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-51808575055409982772009-02-25T21:45:00.000-08:002009-02-25T21:54:21.581-08:00Your Rump:<object height="344" width="425">Pitchfork recently gave the Paul's Boutique rerelease a 10.0. Is it for real?<br /><br /><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-x9CRogsSfY&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-x9CRogsSfY&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Never been dumped, cuz I'm the most mackinest</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Never been jumped, cuz I'm the most packinest<br /><br /></span>phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-55473755370968166632009-02-22T23:59:00.000-08:002009-02-23T00:25:42.271-08:00My Pop-TartMy poptart's "filling is made with <span style="font-style: italic;">equal to</span> 10% fruit."phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-75218304475820189322009-02-18T17:17:00.000-08:002009-02-18T17:40:03.457-08:00Portland is PrettyHave to blog because it is right. There is so much control to life when you have the time to live through something twice. There is so much righteousness in keeping up a blog.<br /><br />I've found myself hoping for the prolonged Portland rain and I haven't been getting it. I've wanted an excuse to stay in my room. Usually it's cloudy and dim when I wake, and I am relieved that I won't be taunted by the exterior. It won't make me feel guilty for a reluctance to engage. It usually clears up by noon though.<br /><br />The weather hasn't been like they said it would be. There hasn't been more than two or three days of straight rain, much less months of gray. The sky hasn't allowed me to hide beneath it when the low clouds seemed comforting. I hope it reveals me, but I still haven't climbed a mountain out here.phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-39218059211337417782009-02-01T03:25:00.000-08:002009-02-01T03:27:06.339-08:00Looks like there are a lot of phospholipids out therephamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-31869122911427127892009-01-27T21:22:00.000-08:002009-01-27T21:29:50.158-08:00Trees and stuff are outside everyday, and they are usually beautiful. It all deserve a page or two. The problem is I only see the forest. But I see each lumberjack’s jacket and the bridges and the roads. But the concretes only see the forest; they too cannot see a shrub. I was sitting on the bridge, and I saw a school of fish and a school of thought. I distinguished a couple thoughts but could not discern a fish, although I knew the school was there. There was a sea of scales, and I decided that I didn’t want to go swimming that day. But the other swimmers headed to the pool, and bought packs of bubblegum after practice. All the pieces went into all of their mouths together. After their jaws got tired, their moms arrived, and it would have been strange chewing bubblegum in the car anyway.phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-55062902072071622382009-01-24T18:35:00.000-08:002009-01-25T16:24:52.023-08:00Sometimes I plan aheadA nice outdoorsy man sells books sometimes outside of the Student Union. He's got crooked teeth and wears a bucket hat. His book collection has been accumulating since he was five. I like buying books from him because they're really cheep and they all have a living history. I bought E.M. Forster's <span style="font-style: italic;">The Longest Journey</span> and Dostoyevsky's <span style="font-style: italic;">The Brothers Karamazov </span>for five dollars yesterday. I usually have to justify myself to all the critics here, especially with books and shit. I knew I probably would not read them anytime soon, but I admire the guy and his great collection.<br /><br />I was preparing my brief about why I bought these books when I bumped into a friend who I hadn't seen in a while. We decided to play pool like we did a lot last semester. I left my books in the pool hall and didn't even notice they were missing until this morning. I felt kind of unhappy for a couple reasons before that and realizing that I had forgotten about those books all day brought me lower. I eventually tried to gloss over the mishap and chance upon the books, but after an entire Friday night I didn't have much hope. When I got to the pool hall, I was happy to find the Forster book where I left it. The other one was gone. I know Dostoyevsky's hot, and that's why I bought his book. I guess the motherfucker who stole my book must have decided that Dostoyevski was worthy of theft but not Forster. Or he also knows Dostoyevsky's hot. I would rather both gone. I didn't buy them together for them to be compared and judged the way this fucker did. I wanted to read the books in the summertime. Now I only have what someone believes to be the lesser of the two.<br /><br />I'm going to watch Nailin Palin in the lecture hall now, free to hate the player and the game.phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-55594924696474667562009-01-19T08:37:00.000-08:002009-01-19T10:14:07.524-08:00PorridgeNo one can shit in Tropic of Cancer. It's not something that is seriously addressed, but it's very funny when it comes to the fore. Like when Miller discovers that his depraved friends start going out to breakfast everyday. He is certainly impressed and surprised that he is so close to some people that eat a meal everyday at the same time. They're eating at some family-friendly place because it serves cheep porridge all day. And porridge makes you shit.<br /><br />I'm doing laundry and getting ready to fly on inauguration day. I can't wait to see all the clogged up people in the airport.phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-10861231007021781752009-01-14T16:50:00.001-08:002009-01-14T16:54:28.751-08:00Just do it already<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUzt4O8suc0GjuTw4jOUgfEwhJJD4nw-FZQCj3OfQMaE6w6WtqnNcnP1FMAJfIsR3jA9X4hpVgC2sK_r8DzT5VTR0LT2Ezyv8CTn69UZdTO6FLRpAzmplk1ujl0A-hC30N1Bp9C-z-g1h6/s1600-h/IMG_0113.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUzt4O8suc0GjuTw4jOUgfEwhJJD4nw-FZQCj3OfQMaE6w6WtqnNcnP1FMAJfIsR3jA9X4hpVgC2sK_r8DzT5VTR0LT2Ezyv8CTn69UZdTO6FLRpAzmplk1ujl0A-hC30N1Bp9C-z-g1h6/s400/IMG_0113.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291317233468666530" border="0" /></a>phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-42053790124041539952009-01-01T14:19:00.001-08:002009-01-01T20:22:15.649-08:00Happy New Year<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIrVUYwwWDIqqF-7IS6PrG0dtJAPKqEcmWrCjt1m0DU0zKWXTERSvCM4gmZjG2A-nCe0eqaK2YgZi6ZaNCsj9qG3xW8QUsrSesple31uFuOy5GudDlwGc956g8LP3h5Iv4mYcNuJ7s-ZuH/s1600-h/IMG_0018_2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIrVUYwwWDIqqF-7IS6PrG0dtJAPKqEcmWrCjt1m0DU0zKWXTERSvCM4gmZjG2A-nCe0eqaK2YgZi6ZaNCsj9qG3xW8QUsrSesple31uFuOy5GudDlwGc956g8LP3h5Iv4mYcNuJ7s-ZuH/s400/IMG_0018_2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286453739401236354" border="0" /></a>I don't want to be a wet blanket.phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-57698464047168270162008-12-28T19:49:00.000-08:002008-12-28T20:00:36.460-08:00maybe you should just drink a lot less coffee<embed src="http://www.seeqpod.com/cache/seeqpodSlimlineEmbed.swf" wmode="transparent" width="300" height="80" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="domain=http://www.seeqpod.com&playlistXMLPath=http://www.seeqpod.com/api/music/getPlaylist?playlist_id=09d046fc28"></embed><div><br /></div><div>and never ever watch the ten o'clock news</div>phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-68146659888075672022008-12-16T23:30:00.000-08:002008-12-16T23:36:39.548-08:00<embed src="http://www.seeqpod.com/cache/seeqpodSlimlineEmbed.swf" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="domain=http://www.seeqpod.com&playlistXMLPath=http://www.seeqpod.com/api/music/getPlaylist?playlist_id=1fce25c845" height="80" width="300"></embed><br /><br />Before, he used to go about in an old cap, a hood tied tightly,<br />with wooden knucklebones in his ears, and around his ribs<br />the hairless hide of an ox,<br />the unwashed covering of a worthless shield, consorting<br />with bread-women and willing whores, that scoundrel Artemon,<br />contriving a fraudulent livelihood;<br />often he had his neck in the stocks, often on the wheel;<br />often his back was scourged with a leather whip, his hair and beard plucked out.<br />But now he rides in a carriage wearing golden earrings, that son of Kyke, and he carries an ivory parasol just the way the ladies do.<br /><br />-Anacreon<br /><br />If I was a master thief, perhaps I'd rob these guys.phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-3114871978862721242008-12-05T23:27:00.000-08:002008-12-11T22:59:00.132-08:00all in the game<span style="font-style: italic;">The Wire</span> got me thinking about some shit from awhile back that apparently I don't care about anymore: <a href="http://allhiphop.com/">Allhiphop.com</a>. Growing up? Fuck me.<br /><br />I’m pissed that the site is more developed, with pretty serious advertisements and too many things to click on. I am amusing that they still don’t really have the rights to the songs they post. I stayed because a flash across the screen showed that Eminem and Dre had <a href="http://www.allhiphop.com/stories/multimedia__music/archive/2008/12/05/20737349.aspx">tried</a> again, ensuring “Dre on beats and Em on the rhyme.”<br /><br />I thought it was bad, but this got me:<br /><br />I'm an itch you can’t scratch<br />That’s sick of me [Maybe this is wrong?]<br />But, hey!<br />What else can I say?<br />I love L.A.!<br />Because over and above all, it’s just another day.<br /><br />(I totally manipulated the presentation of these lines)<br /><br />I initially thought he said “a niche you can’t scratch,” which is why I listened again. One insatiable niche came to mind: the auto industry. I thought it was some insight from Detroit’s finest.<br /><br />This might be the most offensive song that I’ve ever heard, from probably the most offensive artist in recent years. It’s great that Em is still analyzing the game from the promise land, but the image of him cracking a bottle of Champaign in Los Angeles talking about his payroll-long dick while Detroit is eating shit seems insensitive. In a choirboy shout out at the very end of the song, some dude pathetically invokes Em’s former place of glory: “Shout to all Detroit. Stand up for your man he’s back.” A vague reference to something he used to know.<br /><br />Could the revamped image of Eminem do something for the ailing motor city? The idea is just sad with the release of this track. I mean, I don't even know very much about the market, but I'm pretty sure saying "fourth quater pressure! it's on!" is something that would be best left out of the world of the popular culture right now. As far as I can tell, the parralels to the market situation are inadvertant. I'm scared to think that he's creating these frightening connections on purpose (pouring Draino down a volcano) just based on what he has to say about his life in L.A.<br /><br />In fact, I hope this stirs the same controversy that he caused with degrading remarks to women and gays. He’s a heterosexist, womanizer, and disillusioned, hypocritical classist! Keep him away from the children.<br /><br />Maybe it’s a good idea for the nation to follow his example and forget the place. I’m tempted to look more closely at all the insolent things he says while Detroit is listening, but I can’t pursue this any further.phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-19866840555392116182008-12-03T16:21:00.000-08:002008-12-03T22:40:57.201-08:00I responded to my ubercreepster this morning:I think I've got the lotion, ubercreepster, to set your wheels in motion. I was required to fill out a personal statement yesterday to fulfill the application process for a program that I think I am considering. One of many personal questions they forced me to consider concerned my interests. They phrased their question as follows:<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />What are your interests?</span><br /><br />How I slaved over this question! I was certain the only relevant response was an indication of my interest in the questioner's program. Heck, I wanted to tell my interviewer, my interests are the same as yours. Clearly we want something similar, otherwise we would not be undergoing this strange process of acquaintance. I understood that this was an inappropriate response, as it seemed necessary to assert some sort of individuality in order to distinguish myself as a candidate. The following was my signed response:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I am interested in doing what I am told. For I know that what we want is the same. If you think that my service or companionship will help you achieve what you want, then by golly whatever we share must serve the same purpose for me.</span>phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-38551492415781926152008-12-02T18:28:00.000-08:002008-12-29T12:11:10.981-08:00A text message:The world is certainly mocking me, Patrick. I am certain of it. What I believe to be a single endeavor inevitably ends up in many places. You, Patrick, appear to be part of this conspiracy. The conspiracy against me in which there is a crowd that dissects my perceived intentions and presumes them to be more than they are. Can you see how this would make me feel like I must eventually be in multiple places at once, when I only want to be in one? This is how the world mocks me. This is why I cannot desire anything with superb confidence. I am too concerned my objective or passion will be misconstrued. Why must my existence be validated (invalidated?) based on this conglomeration of these conceptions? Patrick, sometimes I intend my words to expire with time or another form that makes them somehow distant or foreign. I think this happens very easily. I don't want to use the word "metatextual" for fear of reactionary remarks. I believe in a metatextual outline intended to govern communication. I feel like this has been violated. I'm not sure if this violation will be beneficial or not.<br /><br />I know this confession will not be redistributed beyond my control, left out like an old fruit, inviting every irresponsibly reproducing fly.phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-79723080105339996072008-11-25T22:21:00.000-08:002008-11-25T22:22:09.931-08:00Funnier yetWhat I meant was "lftr pllr"phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-72237917916596977632008-11-23T02:48:00.000-08:002008-11-23T02:51:58.889-08:00I wrote "lftr" on one set of knuckles and "pulr" on the other tonight. It wasn't original, but I feel strangely authentic. Also, pissy.phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-54741373695320578702008-11-15T13:35:00.000-08:002008-11-15T13:36:16.846-08:00we don't talk much anymore<embed src="http://www.seeqpod.com/cache/seeqpodSlimlineEmbed.swf" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="domain=http://www.seeqpod.com&playlistXMLPath=http://www.seeqpod.com/api/music/getPlaylist?playlist_id=c60bd91379" height="80" width="300"></embed>phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-92159568877313172972008-11-11T17:21:00.000-08:002008-11-11T17:27:08.565-08:00AphorismismOne sees his own value reflected off the person closest to him.<br />You are your associations. Hide from them.phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2795097677160146143.post-302922217552533812008-11-04T14:58:00.000-08:002008-11-08T23:51:16.669-08:00Ben and Jerry'sHow many people will receive a free scoop of ice cream and not make it to the polls? The old hippies commit voting fraud.<br /><br />I thought it would be cool if they only offered free ice cream to under eighteens and illegal immigrants.phamiltontaylorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002482266174930903noreply@blogger.com0