Nothing says sleazy rock and roll like burlesque performers, Lemmy, and Dave Grohl grinning like an idiot. Can’t say I blame him, though. If I made millions of dollars and got to hang out with my rock and roll heroes, I’d be grinning too.
Archive for the ‘Randumb Thoughts’ Category
I figure since these guys were one of Doug‘s favorite bands, I’d best make them my Feel-Good Friday.
This one has a little bit of back story (and you could probably use the whole album, because it’s catchy as hell). When I was in my second senior year of college, I lived with a guy who would sit around and play guitar all the time. He’d invite all his stoner friends over and they’d hang out downstairs, doing whatever it is drug users do when I’m not around, and listen to music. One of the revelations was this particular album by The Flaming Lips, Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots. I was just blown away, because I’d not paid any attention to The Flaming Lips since She Don’t Use Jelly came out in 1993. I had no idea they had gotten that interesting!
I won’t say I got really into them, but I love how layered the music is, and how everything seems to work together so perfectly, be it live instruments or weird sound effects. I also like Wayne Coyne’s spacey delivery and just how science fictiony the whole album feels. Anyway, that’s beside the point.
One day I was driving my mom somewhere (the store? bail bondsman? who knows.) and I put this album in the car on low. She actually made me turn it up so she could listen to it, laughed, and asked me just what in the world it was. I had no idea how to describe it, so I said, “Uhh… Space pop love songs for robots.” So there you go.
And now you know the rest of the story.
It’s amazing. In the very same interview he veers from brilliance to absolute mine-flaying insanity. I can’t wrap my head around this, and maybe it’s my fault for trying.
My coffee revirginity was taken tonight by a nice older woman at the gas station who hooked me up with a 20oz black Colombian blend. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve found myself in the hot embrace of my steamy black mistress, but goddamn have I missed her. She always perks me right up, shakes away the fatigue, and of course, scalds my tongue in the best way possible.
I was proud of myself for shaking my favorite, daily addiction, but nothing good lasts forever. Eventually, even the strongest of men succumbs to temptation once again. Like an alcoholic bartender, the daily temptation got the best of me and I gave into my sinister urges. I fought it for, literally, months.
I quit coffee cold turkey just randomly. I literally went from 6 cups to a pot a day, plus a bunch of soda, to just the soda. Then I cut back on the soda, too. I guess I never shook it completely, but the thing I loved most I gave up. I’m telling myself it’s just a temporary fix… a tool while I stay up and write my review of Get Smart for Den of Geek, but will it stay there? I don’t know; work coffee is one thing, but the little coffee and wifi place on the corner with the good coffee? The gas station with its 6 varieties of java and infinite creamers, flavors, and sweeteners (AKA the coffee whorehouse, where all your dreams come true on the cheap no matter what you like) and constant fresh pot availability? That’s another thing.
It’s not that I feel bad about drinking the coffee; I mostly feel weak for having given up on my exile from Java. It’s not as though I quit caffeine (that’s pretty impossible, since I think caffeine is in the drinking water now), but instead of grabbing a sugar free Red Bull or some Vault Free, I walked past the soda display entirely and straight to the good stuff. The smell… mmm, the smell! I missed it. I missed the sensation of the heat on my tongue, the steam in my nose, the warmth of the cup between my hands… I missed the whole coffee experience.
Let’s never fight again, Dark Roast. I’ve missed you so much, 100% Colombian. Come over here and let me get a good taste of you, Premium Blend. Energy coffee, I’ve never had your hypercaffeinated kiss, but I welcome it. It’s been a long three months.
I saw these guys live at the old Pandemonium before it closed, and before they broke up. They’re the best band to ever come out of Nashville, Tennessee. That’s all I’ve got to say.
And now, about 11:18, we had our first aftershock. Hopefully it was just an aftershock, and not just a warning for a serious earthquake to come. A 5.4 is pretty good, so maybe that’ll be enough to sate the rage of Pluto. If not, we’re gonna have to round up some virgins.
This should make for a fun few days as I wait for Chicken Little to drop the sky on my head.