Let's cut the bullshit

I'm done with this blog. I know, this is not the first time I've taken off but I always knew I was coming back to it. But this time it's permanent. I think it is, anyway. I've been known to be quite fickle, but for the time being, I don't see myself blogging again, at least not on this site. Probably.

(Oh, but I am available for guest blogging. Honestly, I think I've done better writing on other people's sites than my own, and it's way more enjoyable than trying to maintain your own site week in and week out.)


You'll have to go elsewhere for musings on relationships, douchebaggery, chili recipes, Carolina basketball, the Continually Disappointing Roots Crew, Liverpool F.C., Jenny Lewis and her scandalously short skirts, heterohomoerotica, various smells of the New York subway system and drunken Downtown debaucheries.

I wish I could just say "I quit" and be out instead of giving an overwrought farewell post, but that just wouldn't be me. I have to give a fucking explanation to everything I do, so here goes. The reasons are the same as last time, pretty much. Except instead of needing a break, I simply don't give a shit, which is why I don't think this is just a break. Before you say anything, I'll say this - it's not you, it's me.

When I do something, I usually have two sides of my personality motivating me. One is pure arrogance; I know whatever I decide to do, I can do better than anyone else and it's just a matter of trying, and I owe it to the world to show how awesome I am. The other is fear, fear that I will be exposed for the total fraud that I am. The arrogance and the fear have carried me thus far in everything I've done with mixed, but generally good results.


As the quality and the frequency of my posts have dropped, I noticed that I didn't care any more. The arrogance and the fear were gone. I no longer felt the need to keep pace with Larry, play Rashomon with Pants or point-counterpoint Ali. And I don't like to do things half assed, so it's time to pull the plug.

Thank you to everyone who's read this site, everyone who's commented or emailed me (and apologies to people whose emails I haven't responded to - I have no excuse but my own douchiness) and anyone who told me I was a good writer. You guys are too awesome. And I would be remiss not to recognize all the bloggers I've been fortunate enough to meet - generally speaking, they're some of the most wonderful people you'll ever meet. I hope I'm still allowed to drink with them.


There's plenty of reading material out there without me - just follow the links on the sidebar. Props especially to Passion of the Weiss, forksplit and the good folks at FreeDarko, who are all much better writers than I could ever hope to be. And for the love of Suri, someone hire Ian Cohen and give him a forum that's not powered by Blogger or Word Press or AOL.

Originally uploaded by modelux.com

Now, just because this site's dead, doesn't mean I am. I guess I'll have more time to spruce up my Myspace profile, and you can still catch my photos on Flickr and the music I'm listening to last.fm. And I really need more movie recommendations - shoot me an email if you wouldn't mind being my Netflix friend.

Finally, please accept the following mixtape as a parting gift from you to me. Some songs you'll like, some you'll hate, the rest, you'll just say "meh" (I have a feeling I'm going to catch some shit for the Timberlake, but shit's not horrible. There are some dull moments on the album, but the best songs here would make half decent b-sides to tracks on Sign o' the Times. And don't act like you "Rock Your Body" didn't rock the party that rocked the body that rocked to "Rock Your Body" that rocked the party).

1. Justin Timberlake - Summer Love
   
2. Magneta Lane - The Constant Lover
   
3. Spoon - Nefarious
   
4. Lupe Fiasco Pressure (ft Jay-Z)
   
5. Pulp - Common People
   
6. The Knife - We Share Our Mother's Health (Ratatat remix)
   
7. Jaymay - Gray or Blue
   
8. Silversun Pickups - Little Lover's So Polite
   
9. Rilo Kiley - Pictures of Success
   
10. Edith Piaf - Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

It's been fun, and again, I can't thank you all enough. As the song goes, I don't regret shit.

I'm bad for you

This makes me sad. My mom was right, I really did grow up to be a ladykiller.

Tale of Two Shitties

I may have mentioned in an earlier post that my two favorite football teams were the Carolina Panthers and Liverpool. Also in the same post, I mentioned that my weekend didn't get off to a good start. But I'm an eternal optimist; all is well that ends well and shit ain't over until the fat lady sings. And what better to salve the wounds with the ointment of sports, the ultimate escape?

So what happens? It's 7:30 Saturday morning, I head over to Bleecker Street and meet up with our friend Slack for Liverpool vs Everton and breakfast. Well, did I mention something about Liverpool losing winnable games? Yup, 0-3. Liverpool controlled the match but sloppy defending and an awful, awful goalkeeping error by Pepe Reina doomed the slumping Reds. It wasn't even 10 am and my Saturday was alreay ruined.

Oh, but it's football season! I mean, the NFL kind! Surely my Panthers will offer some salvation in my time of need. Oops. Well, there's at least fantasy football right? So you'd think, but not so much when your #1 pick is the Madden Curse-afflicted Shaun Alexander and the #2 pick is the gimpy Steve Smith. I still would have won the week despite it all if Antonio Gates hadn't caught that touchdown pass last night.

So yeah, this month is off to a flying fucking start. I make for pretty shitty company right now. Please wake me up when September ends.

Also,

Thank god, that overwrought Manning Bowl shit is over. Now, we won't have to hear about it for another 4 years since neither brother is making the Super Bowl any time soon. But it makes me wonder - why isn't Ricky Manning Jr getting any of this attention.

Now the no-longer-fashionable-pick-for-the-championship heads to PSV Eindshoven for what should be a routine Champions League match. PSV made the semifinal a couple years ago, but the stars of the campaign - Mark Van Bommel, Ji-sung Park, DaMarcus Beasley and the so awesomely named Jan Vennegoor of Hesselink - are long gone, and the team isn't expected to contend for the European title. Which, of course, means that Liverpool will be lucky to come away with a draw.

Here's Mos Def performing "Katrina Clap" outside the VMAs. It's a pretty unremarkable standard annoying Mos Def sing-songy-rap, except he gets arrested at the end.

I can't believe it's already been five years, I can't believe it's only been five years.

The reason I had trouble writing this post though, was that I no longer know how to feel about the day. I'd only been in New York for thee months when it happened, so I was lucky enough not to lose anyone in the towers. And as a relative newbie in the city, New York really wasn't a huge part of my identity yet. It was just a place I'd ended up, and didn't mind sticking around for a few years.

This isn't to say I'm apathetic. I'll never forget the screams coming from the office where my co-workers watched as the towers fall, not knowing whether their loved ones had made it out in time, the walk from Midtown to Astoria as an Air Force jet scrambled overhead, just wanting desperately to shut myself in my room, talking to my parents in Japan who stayed up until I finally got through to them on the phone at 4 in the morning their time. September 11, 2001 is one day I'll never forget.

And since the first anniversary of 9/11 and every year since, I've shut the TV off for the entire day. Each year, I try to watch the Ground Zero ceremonies, but I just couldn't because the memories were too painful. But this year, it's because I got pissed off. Everything I feel about 9/11, it's not really about 9/11 any more. It's become anger at the political and commercial exploitation of the tragedy and how willing people are to rationalize bad policy, and the asinine debate over whether 9/11 movies are "too soon". 9/11 has become just another buzzword. It means everything to everyone, and consequently, nothing at all.

So on this day, I just try to remember what I went through that day, without commentary or agenda. At least I have my memories - however painful - and that can't be co-opted.

-----

If you haven't already, it would seriously behoove you to check out the graphic adaptation of The 9/11 Report over at Slate and the What If 9/11 Never Happened feature that New York magazine did a while back.

the back four

Just to let y'all know I'm still here:

1. Dear Dan de la Dump,
   
   You suck. Really. What the hell am I going to read everyday to put off whatever I'm supposed to be doing. At the risk of getting all bloggy-hyperbolic-backslappy, you have more talent as a writer in your, um, daily dump than most of us do in our entire bodies. If I had to go gay and I had to do it with a male blogger, I'd probably do it with you, Dan.
   
   I understand, blogging is often incompatible with real life and ultimately inconsequential. And as much as we appreciate the audience and the response, we have to put our offline needs ahead of our online kicks.
   
   That said, you still suck. It's not that I don't understand. In the 2+ years of existence, this blog has gone through two hiatuses plus the current slowdown, but not once did I get close to 200 comments on a farewell posts. You suck, Dan.
   
   Sincerely yours.


2. At the French Kicks show at Bowery Ballroom on Wednesday night:
   
   What's that Angelina? What do we have here?
   
   
   His hair? Oh, it's a mullet.
   
   
   What's that? It's a mullet/tail combo?
   
   
   Behold!
   
   
   Seriously, if the owner of the above mullet is reading, or if you know the owner, please drop in and say hello. The thing is absolute perfection. Look at the shape! The cascade! For reals.


3. There will be more football posts coming up, of both the Association and gridiron varieties. My beloved Panthers start their road to world domination Sunday and they seem to be the fashionable pick to take the big prize, not unlike my beloved Liverpool across the ocean.
   
   Which makes me worry, of course, my pessimism and neurosis being what they are, and both the Kitties and the Reds have similar tendencies to drop very winnable games. I am doubly worried as Steve Smith, along with his wondrous but gimpy hamstrings are on my fantasy team. I think he will play Sunday, but do I bench him and replace him with, say, Matt Jaaaaaaaawnes of Jacksonville? I'm a walking case of buyer's remorse.


4. Real life took a turn today, and as often is the case in life, it's not a particularly good turn. Or rather, life missed the turn it was supposed to take and I remain on the same road I was on before. Not the best way to end the week.

Inspired by a true story

Hey kids, I'm out again. Today, I'm getting my sexy on at a high class jackass. The dinner's in the fridge - take off the saran wrap and microwave on high for one minute.

Have a happy Labor Day weekend, everyone.