“Today, I handed my PhD dissertation, which I have spent the past year researching and writing full-time. Last night, my roommate set an autocorrect on Word that changed “neither” to “nigger.” I didn’t notice until after I handed it in. My professor is black. FML“
News for January 2009
Urgent News Bulletin
Ladies and gentleman, may I please have your attention. I must break my posting hiatus to bring you this urgent and horrifying news bulletin.
Days ago – and I know I missed the ball on this – Coldplay had released their latest video, Life In Technicolor II from their Prospekts March EP. One of the most dope ass videos I’ve seen, easily my favorite video from the Coldplay thus far. A puppet-performed music concert complete with explosions, motorcycle stunts and a helicopter to transport our favorite rock stars away through a window? How could you not find some enjoyment in this?
I had to post this, it just wouldn’t be right at all if I hadn’t.
Now back to the sleeping and studying.
Out of everything I wear these days, I’ve always seen t-shirts as being the principle form of outward expression that I can wear. I can’t see dropping $500 on a pair of designer or raw jeans that will probably fade in a couple of months. I burn through that shit like crazy, what with my obsession with washing everything I wear after each use – as you should you dirty junkies. Plus, they’re just jeans. Who gives a fuck?
I’m guessing that over the years, my choice in t-shirts has resulted in less than stellar results in initiating much meaningful conversations with the ladies. I mean, when you parade around town with a tattered ‘Drop And Give Me One’ shirt as your garment of choice for the past couple of years, it’s hard to see otherwise. Wearing this particular piece of clothing, an inquiring gentleman asked me one night during my break at work the success rate of this supposed open invitation I’m wearing. Needless to say the conversation ended quickly, with one party laughing while the other sulking away to chomp at his dry fried chicken snack.
Regardless, I’ve always loved tees. They are an extension of my personality, which is funny because I could never provide an explanation for each and every pair of t-shirt I regularly wear: completely random. I guess just like me (haha). Whenever I can let someone or in this case someone else do the talking for me about myself, it’s always a plus. Hooray for being introverted!
These past few weeks I’ve been falling head over heals over the clothing over at FALSE, a fashion brand headed up in Singapore by Le Messie and Amanda Scully. Under the brand they have two other clothing lines, Better Off Dead and Fallacy of Rome, releasing t-shirts and jackets under the two plus the FALSE line. I’m still waiting for my FALSE magazine – apparently sitting in customs over in Richmond airport right now- so I’ve yet to personally examine any of their products closely, but from the looks of it the shit there is bananas: hand-screened shirts without the use of any kind of machines to recreate the image on their shirts. Kick ass, except for the asking prices. However, I could make an exception for a couple I’ve been eying, especially with their newly released My Double Valentine tee. Dope stuff.
This will probably be the last post I make before I embark on an arduous journey through two weeks of tests, a presentation – which I will be ripped apart by my fellow peers – and a paper. Wish me good fortunes, as I do for you my scholastic partners in crime.
Big (expensive) Ape Crap
Hello to you.
Unbeknown to many, I’ve got this strange fetish towards stuffed plushies. Useless and totally unnecessary, they sit in my home with no purpose whatsoever other than to age and gain a thin layer of grey from the dust. During high school, a chick came and looked in my room and told me it looked like a girls room, after judging by the amount of stuffed animals that were in it. Let’s keep in mind here that my sister owns a few. However, I would say I own just as much as her, simply on the basis that I store some of it in my room and she has yet to challenge my supposed ownership of these items. That’s how things work over here I guess.
I saw this thing yesterday, apparently the BAPE brand is celebrating 15 years of designing obscenely expensive boutique stuff, and this Baby Milo has not been spared from this cruel trend: 118,000 yen, or around $1600 Canadian. But think of it this way prospective buyers: It’s a fucking massive monkey that will sit in your home and will at least provoke some response from your 3 year old sibling or cousin. When I was that small I wish I had something gigantic like that towering over me. That would have been epic.
More from High Snobiety.
A boy and his guitar
So something came in the mail today:
I’ve already decided on a name: Prudence, as a little tribute to my favorite rock star anime minus the bullet holes in Ryuski’s Les Paul Standard. There’s more photos and whatnot on Facebook (sorry Jamie), though I doubt the people who actually read this care enough to look at even more photos of the same thing, plus I couldn’t get the photo gallery on WordPress to format properly.
Now back to my readings on the Soviet Union. Screw it, I’m going to play Grand Theft Auto IV then go to sleep early – relatively.
First off, a kick ass video before I go off on some complete bullshit. Watch it. Alberto Cerriteño’s “Shiva”:
Lately I’ve been in a “decorator” mood lately. There are these brown wooden walls, rustic but absolutely fitting style-wise in my basement. For those who’ve never set foot down there, there’s a huge piece of wall space over the couch covered by some massive Vancouver Canucks flag. While my allegiance to the hockey team cannot be comprehended despite their lackluster play recently, the space could be used for more colourful illustrations. Ever since I discovered this place I’ve been flirting with the idea of buying some original prints off the web to put on the walls. There are some crazy ass stuff out there that could work down here, but the price tags on some of them are scaring me off, not to mention the great ones have already been sold out. Hey, something to think about while I’m daydreaming in class.
Speaking of class, after two weeks of partaking in actual sessions in school, I’ve concluded that I will be utterly rocked this semester. My loud but academically brilliant international law professor insists on close to a four hour session, I’ve already failed a quiz and forgone some easy ass marks in my Atlantic Canada class – yawn – by forgetting to write up a response paper to the readings last week. Normally I don’t freak out over small percentages lost in classes but these days I actually need that freakin’ GPA to go up as my acceptance into co-op this fall depends on it to be at a sufficient level. Three years later, and I wish I never dicked around in school during first year. A lesson for you kids out there.
Once in a while I start thinking about quitting my job, then after a bit I start telling myself I love my job, which then this process of thought repeats over and over again a few weeks later. It’s a great job. Lots of benefits, the people there are rosey and I’ve already committed to over a year of my life at that place, so you could imagine why I’m still gripping this long with the idea of leaving. But looking at my situation now, with school and work robbing other aspects of my life not to mention some severe overlap between the two, I’m starting to see why a lot of my friends and oldies left a while ago. Work can drain you, school can rape you. Three days at school – one mega long ass day – and three days at work. It’s a killer I tell you.
I stayed home last Friday, content with being the social outcast that night and wasted away on video games, movies and TV. I have one day off to myself, before last Friday I never stayed home for at least 24 hours. It’s fucking scary how things are right now. Already the third week and I’m burnt out, though it was not as if I did not anticipate this anyways. My sleeping schedule still has not recovered -currently 3:15 in the morning – due to my late school and work hours essentially making me a nocturnal being. I’m fucked man.
I was talking to Bryan and Henry a while ago about this. I tossed the idea of giving up school and possibly work for a year and just running wild, some traveling and doing some me things. Bryan told me that I should, making a point that I’ve practically spent four fucking years burying my head within the world of academia. Four fucking years of my prime spent inside reading books superficially and writing papers that don’t make any sense to me. It’s crazy. I’m probably going to chicken out on skipping an entire year but you never know what will happen right? I realized four months didn’t do it for me this past summer, how about eight?
Sorry, I’m going off on a rant.
I picked up the guitar again. It’s been a while, mostly because I’ve been so fucking busy and out of energy to do complex tasks such as plugging in an instrument. It sounded good, it felt good again. I found out I still have that rock star urge in me after four years of dormancy. I gotta start playing in public again, those were some good days. But I have to get this work and school crap dealt with first.
And before I part, I urge you to listen to ‘The ’59 Sound’ by The Gaslight Anthem. I’m digging into the album right now, and so far I’m liking what I’m hearing.
In the spirit of the upcoming presidential inaugration this Tuesday, I present to you this delicious work of art. I had to pimp these guys up.
Red Bull Energy Shots
My peers know that my well-being and ability to function throughout the day relies heavily on whether or not I had my caffeine fix. Coffee rarely does it for me anymore save for mild fatigue in the afternoons but when I’m in serious shit dozing off and barely able to walk, I need those taurine-based energy drinks. Red Bull is coming out with Red Bull Energy Shots, smaller versions of their drinks with the same energy power as the regular drink. While Red Bull isn’t my first choice – I prefer buying one big can like Rockstars as opposed to two little ones – I still dig ’em. But the question I ask about these is, what’s the point if you’re getting the same results with the energy drink as with the shot? As opposed to many other people, I actually enjoy the taste of Red Bull – yikes – and prefer to enjoy one slowly as I take it in. I guess if I were in a hurry, a quick fix would make sense.
But man, you know you’re a freak when your latest blog post revolves around an unreleased energy drink. Fuck.
More from High Snobiety.
There are two kinds of people in the world: those who love chocolate, and communists. -Leslie Moak Murray
Operation Disc Drop
Jamie brought to my attention this grassroots effort initiated by The Hour. If you can’t be bothered to click on the link, what it is in short is that you burn a mix CD, fill it with “tunes that changed your life,” stash it somewhere in a public space and report the location on the website. A pretty novel idea, except for the fact that the music that defined me were tunes made during my teenage years. That my friends were the years of glorious pop-punk, the scorn of culture jammers, old school punk-rockers and the musical elite. Imagine plopping down my CD at school and seeing the look of some random ass indie kid as he indulges to the soundtrack of my life: Blink 182, Blink 182, Blink182.
You know what, this doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all.