Blog posts
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Dec 07, 10:26 AMThe Return Of Millennium FalconLazarus Long had a song...
"There's a pawnshop
on the corner
where I usually hang
my overcoat"
Same deal with Millennium Falcon.
My guitar has been in the pawnshop so long I've forgotten how to play.
When the guy behind the counter looked up my guitar and saw the date that I had pawned it, his eyes got as big as silver dollars.
When he told me how much it would cost to get it out, so did mine.
But it isn't about the money to me.
I only pawned it because, at the time, I had finished all of the instrumental recording on "Today Mars, Tomorrow The Stars," and I was focusing on mixing and production considerations. Unfortunately, it was also the most difficult economic period I had ever gone through, with a very expensive rent on a very tiny shit apartment and a telemarketing job that I hated and eventually got fired from. I had no money, and was so out of my mind insane that I had no hope of holding a job down. Back then, Ramen noodles were out of the question. There was simply nothing I had left that was worth selling.
As he looked up the ticket and ignored his wife while she bitched about how much the internet connection was costing him, we talked about the recent discovery of Fomalhaut b and I told him about Phil Plait's "Discover" article.
"Yeah, I saw that photo on the news."
I told him everything I know about the orbital characteristics, the huge debris torus, how Fomalhaut b is only 25LY from here. It really was all I had been thinking about.
He and his wife argued about how much they were paying for internet access for their pawn shop.
"They TOTALLY rape you!" he almost shouted. He explained to me that they had to have physical internet access because our part of Florida is flat and they have no signal for wireless. "I hear reception is PERFECT in Alaska! They just put the towers on top of a mountain," he explained.
They get charged $175 a month for internet because their pawnshop is a business. That was only slightly more than I would have to give him to get Millennium Falcon back.
This pawnshop pretty much always reminded me of Watto's Junkshop, and so did this guy. He was okay. But he was about one thing: "Only money."
I went outside to have a smoke while he argued with his wife and finished looking up my guitar.
He had told me, when I first pawned it so long ago, that it was referred to in the catalog as "The FatTone." I had named it Millennium Falcon, as I was getting tired of explaining to people who asked what kind of guitar I play: "It's a Gibson Epiphone Strat knockoff." And, personally, I find "FatTone" slightly on the demeaning side.
"WHAT A PIECE OF JUNK!"
"She'll make point THREE past lightspeed!"
Same type of deal.
Bought for about $150 eight years ago when I lived in Chicago, Millennium Falcon was my first electric six. Black body, white guard. No dents or scratches.
I had given her to my father years ago after I had bought another Gibson, this one silver. He said that he had played it for a little while, but there was a nasty electical hiss and intermittant click.
"Yeah, that's why I got another one for recording," I had told him.
"Yeah, well that noise was driving me nuts. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with it, so I just took it to the shop. They found a screw lodged in the electronics." My father was an engineer and always loved funny stories about dunsles and the innards of electronics.
It's a funny way for a father and son to bond, I suppose. But I will never forget his story, or the fact that he then gave the guitar back to me at a time when I had sold the new guitar, the silver, to have enough money to move to Florida. That was two years ago and I needed a guitar to continue recording "Today Mars, Tomorrow The Stars."
It was the last time I ever saw my father. A week later he was dead.
THIS fucking guitar has been through wars. -
Nov 26, 01:01 PMToday Mars, Tomorrow The Stars[img:http://www.songcastmusic.com/x-albumcovers/thumbs/22904.jpg] [http://www.songcastmusic.com/albums?zoom_query=22904
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[img:http://www.songcastmusic.com/images/x-itunes-badge1.gif] [http://www.songcastmusic.com/albums?zoom_query=22904 -
Nov 18, 03:12 PMSelected Lyrics...--Bush The Lesser (Blame The Press)
You honestly believe that God put you in Office
I guess that's because you believe what your advisors
say about you in the press
You pray everyday in the Rose Garden
It makes a fantastic photo-op
But you can't understand for the life of you
why the criticism never stops
Chorus:
Your adminstration is founded on lies
But you think you make something true if you
say it 90 times
When you say "honor" and "freedom"
you have us rolling on the floor
So build a mercenary army
'cause we don't support the war
You're completely unapologetic
You'd think you think we were in bed
with the terrorists all this time
You'd like to rewrite history
burn all the books you did not write
It isn't that we favor terrorism
Don't want to burn the country down
It's just we feel you've hijacked our country
and you're the only terrorists around
Chorus
Braindrain is the only reason why America built The Bomb and went to the moon first
So let me guess: the whole point to everything you've worked for up to this point was just to turn the Social Clock back 50 years? You've just gotten old, man, you oughtta smoke a joint and rethink your life
Chorus
(I love my country but I hate my government)
--Mars Is Worth Fighting For
Mouse commandos at my discretion defend me from the women's protection in a dream I had the other night. Can't see it clearly, that house in the light. My baby sister in another life, she'll grow up to be JUST like my wife. So I joined the army, cause the women don't want me and I don't want this isolated life which haunts me.
Chorus:
I'm gonna have to leave so I can be alone with me. The rest of mankind is addicted to mediocrity. Cause you're eyes are getting tired and your arms are getting sore. And you know there ain't no time we're fighting for.
I always told myself someday that I'd understand. Now I just want to be far away in the sand. And I can't see why it is that I don't feel like a man, and why planet earth, to me, feels like a no-man's land. So I want me a spaceship so I can fly far away. With the wind at my back I'll make Mars in a day. I give me my word I won't ask me if we're there yet. And once I get there there'll no one else to forget.
Come to my Red Planet and learn to fend for myself. I guess you could say I came here because I couldn't get any help. No I don't miss your lies, your trickeries and deceits. And I don't feel the urge to send out for your poisonous treats. I'll be the greatest world leader that my world ever had. I'll find the Key to Immortality in my Olympus Mons Lab. And then I'll live forever with my heart on a shelf and I'll just let the old human race go screw itself.
Chorus
(Leavin')
--Hate Condom
"This dude's an asshole and as long as he's a bigger asshole than me I ain't got shit to worry about..."
Just jammed it in the bitch. She was into it.
The condom broke.
Raised the boy up to know better, had a good life, but somewhere along the lines his world fell apart.
It wasn't his fault. Or was it?
And what part did you play in the world-wide tragedy?
It was a hate condom. It was nobody's fault. It was a hate condom. A hate condom.
Some call him The White Devil some call him The Crackalacka. He just looks em dead in the eye and thinks dirty thoughts to himself. After stepping off the sidewalk.
Had a dream he had TB and infected the neighborhood. Because he wouldn't move they had to move everyone else. Dropped a fuel-air bomb to sterilize the place. Couldn't look in the mirror without seeing his face.
And what part did you play in the world-wide tragedy?
"We make mistakes, people die," he thought. Stood in his room and asked: "How is this possible?" Miscarried baby floating in the toilet. And no one was coming to get him.
"How is this possible?" he said to himself.
And blessed are the cracked for they shall let in the light.
It was a hate condom. It was nobody's fault. It was a hate condom. A hate condom.
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Nov 13 2008, 09:05 AMAn Open Letter: To democrats From Republicans
Look:
Let's just go ahead and be honest, and even a little bit CHARITABLE here...
And if you noisy democrats would just give me a minute to make my point before you all jump in at once and start shouting me down about this, then that would be nice too.
I'm just gonna be the first to let the cat out of the bag. And then Republicans can breath a HUGE sigh of relief and go back to business as usual.
The REAL reason democrats have been hearing SO much rumor and shouted allegation about the Hawaiian Birth Certificate of The One is not because anyone really thinks He is not an American citizen.
The REAL reason democrats HAVE TO listen to the repeated reminder that His middle NAME is HUSSEIN!!!! is not really because anyone ACTUALLY believes Him to be a secret terrorist or even a Muslim.
The REAL reason democrats have been hearing SO much Republican grumbling, backbiting and ridicule of The One, is not because John McCain (or even Governor Palin for that matter. I'm sure she's a wonderful person. I just think it might not have been the BEST pick for The Party...) did not quite win the election.
The REAL reason democrats have been hearing SO much anger and bitterness towards The One is not even because of the liberal bias of the younger generation members of the media.
And it isn't that Republicans are secretly flummoxed over the perfect storm of an economy that could be doing a little better, and a war that is beginning to not be the sort of war that real, good, and loyal Americans like, or a President who didn't (LET'S JUST BE HONEST ABOUT IT!) measure up to being the sort of Commander In Chief we were all looking forward to having.
The REAL reason democrats have been hearing SO much whispered innuendo and fear and worry about The Future Of Our Great Country is not even because Republicans are secretly terrified that The Grand Old Party just committed mass political suicide and will soon be as strong and relevant to the future of American politics as the Torry Party...
No. In fact, it isn't even any of these. The REAL reason Republicans won't back down about this bitterness long enough to give The One a chance and just SEE what sort of President He might make can be simply boiled down to one driving motivational factor:
Racism. -
Nov 11 2008, 09:04 PM"Only Buddha can save my music now..."
In the last installment of our tale, our noble young hero despaired of life as a teeny weeny fish in an ocean of giant rap Leviathons, Celebutarts, and Sniper Kittens...
I fell to my knees in awful fear for the future of my indie career. "Only Buddha can save my music now!" I moaned to the sky (which was taking on a creepy phospherescent orange as the impenetrable iLike Artist Stats screen fell away)
"Oh mighty Buddha: Please bring me a pony, and a little plastic rocketship..."
Crestfallen and full of woe, my gaze fell teary-eyed to the ground beneath a troubled brow of little curly ringlets that kept getting in my eyes, shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Always with you it cannot be done. Hear you nothing that I say?"
It was Him!
"Mighty Buddha!" I exclaimed, leaping to my feet, eyes wide in shock.
"Expecting someone else, were you?"
"Uh, well, I don't know..."
"And well you should not."
"Well, it would be nice if someone would listen to my songs every once in a while! Or, or, or leave a comment on my Fan Wall! How can the music revolution be televised IF I AM MY ONLY FAN?!"
"So serious you have become. Where has gone the boy who only made the songs be because he could not get them out of his head? You must train yourself to LET GO of all that you fear to lose.
Suffering exists.
Suffering arises from attachment to desires.
Suffering ceases when attachment to desire ceases."
I shrugged and nodded. "Oh, alright. I'll give it a try..."
"No! Try not! Do. Or do not!..."
This went on for some time. Usually I try to keep my conversations with demons and deities a little more private. But this is an Epic Tale, ffs!
Tune in next time when our Intrepid Hero asks: "Where is Gay Jesus when you need him?!"
in The Continuing Adventures Of Cloan
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Nov 11 2008, 09:58 AMTo Blog, Or NOT To Blog?
Must I?
Must I blog?
Must I really?
I have a friend who is encouraging me to do so. "I really think you'll be very good at it," he says.
Unlike the Monkees, I don't think that just because I'm a young generation, that I NECESARILY have something to say.
I usually do have something to say. That's not the point. I'm an aries. We were born to talk.
It's just that after spending so many hours every night (which always stretches into every morning) networking, Tubing, Digging, Stumbling, aniBOOMing, I get to the point at this time in the morning (1:53pm) that I feel as if I've already talked with every person ever born on the planet. And with my brains packed to the mushpoint, my thoughts are as coherent as a "republican" YouTube rant about Obama's birth certificate.
And then I come to iLike.
Viewing my stats, I can't seem to make out how many people have listened to my songs. Maybe I uploaded them wrong or something. There's just a dash on the stats next to each song. But I can hear them fine on my page. I don't know. What I CAN see is that people watch my videos, especially the animated one. Groovy. And A LOT of people read the short note I wrote thanking my One Annonymous Fan for becoming a fan. And of the pics I posted, although the album art seems to be getting hits, the Big Hit is for the Fucking Sniper Kitten pic. If that don't beat all!
Well, then. Blog I shall. For it is not the music that they listen to, but men's hearts are filled with videos and Sniper Kitten dreams, the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune...
