Thursday, May 25, 2006

Morning Word Salad

It's been a whirlwind morning involving telephone flavored lattes and trains sitting in the middle of the road with idiots flying round on broomsticks. I watched people sit at the intersection waiting for a train that wasn't going to move even though they could drive three blocks south and get on the other side of the tracks. It was like watching AI bots sitting at a dead end trying to get through a wall. No ability to think around their problem, just the automated, "Must get to point B. Must get to point B. Must get to point B." I could have sat there at the crossing as well and enjoyed the new album I purchased last night. I would have justified being late to work on account of the train and soaked in a second run through 10,000 Days.

"It's a creeper." as one fan put it on (double you, double you, double you).amazon.com and they seem to be right in a certain sense. My complaints are more about the mixing of the album rather than the overall sound. Sure there are repeat guitar tracks that are straight from "third eye" but the vocals are so low in the mix it's next to impossible to discern if there's singing or not let alone what the words are. Third Eye is a perfect example of that, the section where Maynard is whispering. It's not possible to fully understand what he's saying. (but then again, do we really want to?)

I also put to rest this demon that's been chasing me for the last four or so years. A friend said that I should read the Davinci Code, I would love it, it's full of religious stuff, blah blah blah. In most cases the religious stuff is a definite attractor (bug to bug zapper). Last week, I went to used bookstores looking for a copy of the book but didn't know the name of the author and didn't want to embarass myself by asking the NPR listening, "modern-hip" author reading clerk where I could find a copy. (Sigh, roll eyes, smartass response 'in the trash?') So I bought a Milan Kundera book instead. I really think that point B is not my goal at all.

Anyway this movie is so utterly end-of-chapter-cliff-hanger/easy explanation of end-of-chapter-cliff-hanger, it's a lot like being slapped in the face with a cock. Not having it. Tom and Ian are great actors (hence first name 'familiarity' like we're bros) and they were entertaining to watch but the story and the conspiracy and the Scion of Christ Bullshit...UGH... and the flashbacks and CGI overlaying made a 'bestseller' into a 'blockbuster'. They got my money and I can now file my summons an complaint against Dan Brown. I was compelled by the power of Christ to see that movie. I may have picked up the book eventually but not gotten much further than the first hundred pages. The movie made the story, if you can call it that, accessable to me without having to give up too much time. And why was Tom Hanks crying at the end when he figures out that the bones of Mary Magdelene are buried in the Louvre? (Oh sorry didn't mean to spoil it) sorry... so sorry, SPECIAL SHOES SPOILER ALERT!!! Michael Keaton is a musician who dies in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and son. Through the magic he left behind, one year later, he returns as a snowman, and has the final chance to put things right with his son before he is gone forever. Directed by Troy Miller.

uh... like I said, Where the I Divides will be playing an exclusive gig for three people this weekend. The venue is top secret but I'm pretty sure it'll end up being a basement in Milwaukee. Rider consisting of

1. Three (3) 20 oz. bottles of DeJaBlue water
2. One (1) half-eaten box of stale Nabisco brand Triscuts
3. One (1) pack of Winston Cigarettes (may be replace with Vantage Cigarettes)
4. One (1) carton of Camel Light Cigarettes (Wides preferred)
5. An assorted collection of vintage Playboy magazines (nothing after 1977)
6. One (1) hobo/clown statue

1 comment:

RicketyFunk said...

Well, when you come to the cottage, you get Culvers. That's super number one premium on my list of items to round out the middle. Stal...er... what you offer is only fit for fat camp.

And I'm not cracker.