Wednesday, 10 February 2010
Days Go By
By Dirty Vegas
see relatedHey... I'm back. Of course, since no one actually reads this blog, I don't know why I'm posting this, but--oh well.
Anywayz....be prepared for some random musings on absolutely nothing coming ur way. I'll try to be on here more often, promise. :)
So yah.... Bahye
http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"> name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 9"> name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 9">Duchess
Monday, 08 February 2010
By Sean Kingston
see relatedDedicated to C. N.--wherever you are.
I hadn't seen him in four years.
Wait...no--three and a half.
Were his eyes blue? I couldn't remember. I had written them blue--dreamy, golden-flecked cobalt, to be exact.
Funny, how I had liked him enough to put him in a book. I had liked other guys as well, but none of them had quite made it to the literary stage.
And I never dreamed about them four years after I last saw their face.
Wait--correction--three years after. I had seen him in the hallway of Rose's school, almost a year after the end of the show. Not quite as tall, but just as familiar.
No...he had braces then. Braces and big, beautiful blue eyes. I remembered now.
But that was three years ago and I had forgotten about age. There were four years difference between us, not that it mattered at the time, but now I'm sixteen.....
He could be anywhere now: across the world, across the country, even across the street.
And would he even remember me? The obvious, though friendly puzzlement I had seen in his face was as vivid as those wide blue eyes.
I would remember him.
But, of course, I'm just weird like that.
Monday, 28 September 2009
Dance or Die
By Family Force 5
see relatedK, so: scratch that last chapter. I had my editor, DJ Sweet Tart (aka Ron), check it out, and we had to do some Sirius revamps. The new-and-improved version will be up soon. While I'm waiting, I thought I have a little intellectual discussion about my favorite band: Family Force 5.
In a nutshell, Family Force 5 (FF5 for future reference) is a five-member band originating from Atlanta, GA. It is composed of three brothers--Solomon, Jacob, and Joshua Olds--and two of their friends: Derek Mount and Nathan Currin. Sounds pretty basic, yah? A couple of guys, all between the ages of thirty and twenty-seven, just hanging out and making music. BUT! I haven't mentioned the crazy nicknames, golden boxing gloves, and bizarre reality-TV podcast. Enter charming insanity.
Solomon Olds (SoulGlow Activatur), the lead singer, is short in stature but has a colossal personality. He lives by the motto of ‘Immaturity’ and can always find an excuse to party. His twin brothers, Jacob (Crouton) of the jet black, exquisitely styled hair and Joshua (Fatty) with the uber-buff guns and broad shoulders, are on drums and bass, respectively—Jacob’s the fashion-queen diva (and yet not gay; how cool is that?), Joshua’s the silent, under-appreciated accountant. (Yes, accountant. I don’t understand either.)
The non-brother members of the band are Nathan Currin (Nadday) on turntables and keytar--probably the only band member who takes himself seriously--and Derek Mount (Chap Stique) on guitar, a cute little blond spazz who has a talent for making faces. Put them all together and you get a band that is so effervescent it’s stupid and so stupid it’s delightful.
FF5's first album, Business Up Front/Party in the Back, is an epiphany of, as they put it, crunk rock. Now that's great if you like crunk rock, but before you can like it, you have to know what it is. So ensued my search for the meaning of "crunk".
My first go-to spot was Urban Dictionary, kind of like street-slang Wiki. My friend and afore mentioned editor DJ Sweet Tart won't say anything unless she looks up on UD first. Siriusly people, double entendres are everywhere. It sux. Anyway, according to UD, crunk is a combo of chronic (tripping on coke) and drunk. Combine that with rock and you'll get the stupidest druggie band ever.
BUT! (once again) this is not the only def of crunk. It can also be a kinda Ebonics slang for crank it its greatest tense; i.e. swim, swam, swum—only: crank, cranked, crunk. So pretty much it means you’re pounding that bass as loud as it can go. You feelin’ me yet?
Also, crunk is also a type of southern rap that originated in the 1990’s. Think Lil’ John, who incidentally has an album going by the name of “crunk rock.” Numb and Kountry Gentlemen are some FF5 songs off their first album that fit this description.
So, ‘in the genre Southern rap’, along with the past tense of ‘crank’ is the best-fitting answer I could come up with. It’s an acquired taste, but extremely energizing, especially when you have tunes that involve everything from uptight, diva-esque bosses (Drama Queen) to just plain, all-out partying (Whatcha Gonna Do With It?).
BUT! Their second album tossed all that hard-bite, crushed-up Georgia boy rock to the wind while taking on the masquerade of throbbing electronica streaked with throaty screaming and razzy electric bass lines. Titled ‘Dance or Die’, FF5’s second album can conjure up different images for different songs. ‘Radiator’ invokes images of raunchy black leather and neon green strobe lights while Solomon Olds pulls off a good, old-fashioned, ear shattering scream, techno style. ‘Fever’ reminds you of a Bond movie—you can almost see the hair blowing in the wind as somebody’s Aston Martin streaks across hot pavement, Jacob Olds' shuddering falsetto crooning in the background. The title track, however, has a story all its own, involving robots, an imaginary planet, and lots of signature Jacko moves (Srs—check the vid)
FF5’s new sound, while chic, edgy, and very neon, is a huge leap from their old stuff. A declining amount of Crouton vocals (with the exception of Share It With Me, which we really wish he wouldn’t) and absolutely no Fatty vocals ::tear:: diminish its awesomeness.
BUT! (once again) FF5 has nearly released, not a new album, but a new song—Keep The Party Alive (or KTPA). This song, with its throbbing bass line and bouncing, get-up-and-dance anthem, blew my mind with its similarity to the Black Eyed Peas. (Espesh. Their newest hit ‘I Got a Feeling’)
So, now you’ve got the back story, here’s my verdict. FF5 will always be one of my favorite bands, BUT! with their slow mergence into more mainstream dance-n-trance/techno, they lose some of their individuality and down-home southern baby charm. Do I have a problem with FF5 becoming the next BEP? No. I mean, srsly--who would object to a crazy-awesome band whose lyrics are cleaner than the Jonas Brothers?
Of course, the cool thing about FF5 is that their rapidly and constantly evolving style provides at least a couple of songs for everyone. And anyway, with this band, it’s the people we care about—I mean, who wants to sit down and list to Wake The Dead when you can watch Chap Stique ogle chickens; Crouton, adorned in high-heeled boots, walk his cat; Fatty being the hottest crocodile ever during a game of Lava monster; Nadaddy in a cape; or SoulGlow with his gorgeous, but probably disturbed, little son Cash.
Anyway…FF5, while being all around awesome, probably won’t last that long. I mean they’re no U2, and as they age, they're eventually going to lose the Dance RAWR dance appeal. But they are a talented, unique, fun-loving band who’s music can be entertaining, party-filled sanctuary on those dreary, tedious days.
Monday, 31 August 2009
The Planxty Collection
Ok, I have finally found my documents. They were hiding in the back-up file--betcha didn't think THAT!
Anyway, here it is--the fisrt part of Chapter One of my book. I really want to name it High Flight Society (isn't that the coolest name ever?) but there's already a band named that, so it's my working title. If you've got any ideas on names after reading this, let me know.
K, here goes:
Chapter 1: Teddy
“I’ve been waiting too long; yesterday’s late, tomorrow’s already gone.”
Theodore Westin-Jones turned eighteen in three weeks, and he wasn’t quite sure he was ready for it.
“Teddy,” Livia Jones called from the floor below him, her voice strained, “come down and fix the duster, will you?” Teddy, lying languidly on his bed, his eyes racing along the pages of Great Expectations sighed and sat up. “Coming mum.”
He blinked a couple times to clear his eyes and then got up, attempting to smooth his wrinkled t-shirt. He had spent the previous day at his dad’s house, going to a concert specifically. Unfortunately, however, his mum had called while they were there saying that she had to work that day, last minute, so please bring Teddy over tonight.
The concert had seemed to dim after her call: Teddy and his father, also working the next day, had rushed home after the concert was over to pack his stuff. Teddy, mentally and physically exhausted, had arrived at his mum’s at one-thirty in the morning and had slept in until three in the afternoon.
Livia had come home to a living room peppered with her son’s belongings and her son lying comatose on his bed, still fully clothed. She had decided to let him sleep until dinner at five, but he had woken up at four-twenty, rested and ravenous.
After they had eaten, Livia had begun to clean the house. Teddy, with nothing else to do, went back upstairs and immersed himself in a book. He had remained there until now.
He padded downstairs, brushing his hair out of his face. He was still tired, he didn’t know why but he didn’t mind fixing the cleaner. It was old, and finicky—this was not the first time he had coaxed it back into working—but Livia couldn’t quite afford a new one, so they made do.
“Thanks, dear,” Livia gave her son an affectionate squeeze on the arm, but nothing more. She had read somewhere that teenage boys responded badly to an overload of physical affection, so she had kept her touching to a minimum in the last few years.
“Hey mum,” Teddy frowned disapprovingly at the vacuum cleaner and flicked it on the side, “D’you know where the screwdriver might’ve ended up?” Livia bit her lip. “I’ll check the cleaning closet, just give me a moment.”
She hurried down the hallway, her kitten-heeled shoes clicking faintly on the linoleum. Teddy, left to his own devices for a second time, began to examine the vacuum. He played with the on/off switch and unscrewed the head, peering into the long tube that connected the head to the body of the cleaner.
“I think it might be blockage.” He yelled down the hall. Livia, returning with the screwdriver, moaned. “Lovely. Is it going to spray everywhere again?”
The last time the vacuum had been blocked up, Teddy had increased the pressure in the bag area and shot the last couple of day’s worth of trash into the living room, clearing the blockage but creating a sizable mess.
“No, I think I’m going to try disconnecting this”—he pointed to the tube—“and pushing the trash out with a broom handle.” Livia still looked dubious and Teddy’s face split into a heart-melting smile. “It’ll be completely projectile-free, I promise.”
Livia returned his smile. “You smile just like your dad, you know?” she reminisced, a slight look of regret etched on her face. Teddy’s smile became rueful and her turned back to the cleaner. “Yah, you’ve told me.”
Livia wrung her hands for a bit, then pulled herself together. “Right. I’ll leave you to that, now. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
She went back along the hallway, sniffing quietly. Teddy sighed as he started to unscrew the tube from the body of the vacuum, the remnants of his smile turning into a yawn.
Livia Jones, a secretary in a legal office, lived in a small house on the outskirts of Bristol; her husband Michael Westin, a semi-popular screenwriter, lived in Newport. They had been married for sixteen years, divorced for three. They shared the custody of their one and only son, Theodore: it was on a two-week basis, but had the flexibility of Situational Parental Transferal.
It was a fairly calm atmosphere but Teddy had been, and still was, uncomfortable with the switching around. He loved both his mum and his dad, but wished he could stay in one place and not have to worry about repacking his stuff every time he turned around.
He refused to complain, however, lest it initiated a monumental argument between his parents. Livia and Michael had been on friendly terms as of late, but Livia had been taking several private calls behind the doors of her bedroom and Teddy was tinged with worry.
“Teddy, you want the broom?” Livia leaned over her son’s shoulder, an apron wrapped around her waist. Teddy, taking the final screw out of the tube’s bonding cylinder, grunted a yes. He jerked the tube out of the body and then frowned. “What’s this?”
A thin silver chain was caught between the body and the tube, taut and glittering. Teddy laid the tube on the floor and gently tugged at the chain. It wouldn’t give, probably stuck on something in the vacuum. Livia bent down, staring quizzically at the chain. “I wonder…”
Teddy pulled the chain in the opposite direction, hoping that it would slide of its catch. It did, popping out of the tube with a rasping screech. It revealed itself to be a delicate necklace: a solitary wing studded with tiny diamonds.
“I thought so: it’s Gran Vivian’s necklace!” Livia exclaimed, brushing the dust of the necklace with a finger. Free from their coating of dust, the stones shimmered in bright jewel tones. Teddy gazed at the pendant, fascinated.
“Wonder how it got in here?” Livia continued, letting the necklace coil into a spiral on her palm. Teddy shrugged. “Probably got dropped and then sucked up when you weren’t looking.” He suggested. Livia nodded.
“Right. Well, it’s a lovely necklace, a bit tacky—“ Teddy interrupted her, rising to his feet, “I like it!” Livia looked surprised. “You can have it then. I’ll never wear it and it probably won’t sell well at all.”
She handed the necklace to Teddy, who curled his hand around it and shoved it into his jeans pocket. “Thanks. I think the cleaner’s good; anything else?”
Livia shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She paused, about to go back to the kitchen, “I’m making cobbler—you want some?” Teddy thought for a moment, the necklace burning a hole in his pocket. “Alright. Call me down when it’s ready.”
He loped across the room and headed back upstairs. He didn’t know why he wanted the necklace so badly; he had never seen it before; but a subtle pleasure filled him as he thought of cleaning the dust off the necklace and watching the diamonds shine.
More to come later.
Saturday, 29 August 2009
Camp Rock (Extended Rock Star Edition)
By Joe Jonas, Demi Lovato, Nick Jonas, Kevin Jonas, Meaghan Jette Martin
I now officially have a new ipod: Jazz, a 4th gen. Nano --bright lime green. Fun, yah?
More breaking news: my fonts are back. I really missed the options and was uber-dissapointed when Avante Garde wasn't avante garde at all. So chill, y'all....
So, I was thinking about Cricket magazine (I used to read it when I was little.) and I loved the part where they had kids submit the first sentences of books that they liked. Here is the first sentence of my book: tell me if it makes you want to read it.
k, nvm. I forgot my comp crashed and lost all my stuff. Not permanantly, but I can't find it yet. So...catch you later, yah? Or, I could see if I remember....
"Teddy Westin-Jones was three weeks away from his eighteenth birthday, but he wasn't quite sure he was ready."
Or something like that, idk. I'll figure it out.