A few weeks ago, it became clear to me that I would probably be able to hit my 1000th post on The Black Laser’s third birthday. As the date (11/11/11) got closer, I realized that not only would I hit 1000 posts but that I would actually have to plan on how to do it so I didn’t overshoot and post my 1000th before the 11th. Exciting!
So what does 1000 Black Laser posts look like? Here’s the breakdown!
Not surprisingly Music and it’s subset Music Videos are the overwhelming majority here. But, what I do find surprising is that I have more than twice as many Writing posts as I do Photography posts. I was fairly sure that Photography would be in second place behind music, but it’s in fourth place behind Thoughts AND Writing. Interesting! I guess I do a lot more writing and blabbing about random crap that I thought. Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s all I do here. Why do you people keep coming back? Is it my charm? My devilish good looks? My witty repartee?
To be honest, fewer and fewer people are coming to The Black Laser every day. What’s with that? It used to be I’d get a hundred fifty to a couple hundred hits every day, even if I didn’t post very much. Now, I’m lucky if I break a hundred. Where have all the people gone? I suppose it will just slowly wind down over the next three years until it’s just me, alone, yelling out at the internet, unread, unloved, and uncaring. Hermit mode—ACTIVATE!!!!
As in previous years, I will take this opportunity to wish my favorite person in the whole world a similarly magnificent 3rd birthday. Happy birthday, SJ. I hope I get back to read you more bedtime stories and turn you into a baby burrito soon.
Here’s to another successful year of infecting the internet with my own brand of madness. Cheers!
EDIT///
Here’s the proof!
Dearest brain,
I feel like you and I have been friends for a long time. Sure, there were the years I abused you, but I’ve always been a better friend to you than my body. I mean, that’s not to say my body has ever treated me badly, but we’ve had a strained relationship. We’ve always had a bit of a disconnect and I’ve never gone out of my way to take care of my body since I reside so wholly in my mind. Brain, you know, I know it. It’s the truth. Sorry, body, I’m trying to be better to you, but you cannot change the past. We’ll get back to you in a little bit.
So, brain, why are you thwarting every attempt I’ve made the last three days to do any work? HMMmmmmmm?? You allow me just brief glimpses of focus, 2, maybe 4 minutes tops. Why not just let me focus on the shit I need to do? What the hell is up with you?
I’ve noticed a pattern with you, brain. I’ve noticed that when I am hungover or tired or feeling shitty, you have a much easier time letting me get down to work. What’s that about? Must I constantly be hungover/tired/sick to accomplish anything? Must I wait until the middle of the night to have creative revelations and be focused enough to actually make them real? Why cannot I not just feel ok and awake and healthy and not have you bothering me all the time by thinking of 80 million things all at once.
For example, today, in my effort to reacquaint myself with my body, I’m well rested, not hungover in the slightest (surprising since I had a birthday dinner last night for a good friend, nor any drop to drink), and I’ve eaten. EATEN! I never eat! All remarkable things considering the state of Joe the last few years. But I can’t do anything for longer than a minute before I get distracted and look away. This stupid letter has taken me hours of writing a sentence, fucking off for a while, pacing the office, watching some dailies, trimming my selects, stretching on the skate ramp, digging through the pantry for snacks, and then sitting back down and writing another sentence.
Brain! I’ve got work to do! This Safeway turkey thing won’t cut itself! I just need like 2 hours from you. Come on, you can do it. I can crank out something in 2 hours. I know you know exactly where we need to go with it; let’s just bang it out and be done. Why fight me? Why fight me all the time?! Is this what ADD feels like? If it does, I feel sorry for people who are afflicted with this. Fuck, it’s not like this is new for me. Maybe I’m all attention-deficit too. Who knows. I’m not a doctor, brain, though I do know how to remove sutures. That’s all right.
Wait! Back to the matter at hand! Brain! Focus! Help! There’s nothing out there that cannot wait! Just shut up for a minute and let’s pay our work attention so we can go back to being a flighty, distracted pair again. Please? Please? PLEASE?
Sincerely,
The Black Laser.
PS – Body, sorry, told you I’d get back to you. Yes, I am scared about the possibility of 100 pullups, 200 pushups, and 300 squats for time tomorrow. Yes, I know, the squats not so scary, and neither are the pullups (assisted, of course), but 200 pushups. Holy shit, I know. Maybe we go tonight instead and do 1200 meters, 30 deadlifts with weight, and 63 pullups? Decisions! Should we do both?
This morning my executive producer Toni walked into the office and put some music on in her office and this was the first thing that started playing. Now it’s stuck in my fucking head and I will be god damned if I don’t get it stuck in yours today, too. All you need is a little bit of the song and then it will slowly start fucking your brain and you cry, “Stop! Stop!” but it won’t stop. It will tell you that it loves you but it doesn’t. It just wants to control you. It wants to own you. It wants you to be an object. Then later, when the song gets off and you’re lying there on the floor, a shuddering, quivering mass of tears and shame, you’ll realize you’ve been song raped.
And you’ll hate me for doing it to you with La Bouche, the same way I hate Toni for doing it to me. I understand. It’s all right. I still love you, and I’m sorry. So so sorry.
Justin Fornal, a friend of a friend of mine, is known as Baron Ambrosia, the eccentric host* of a local Bronx public access food show called “Bronx Flavor”. In tremendous news for him, he just created a pilot of his show for the Cooking Channel in which he searches through New Jersey for the elusive Jersey Devil fajitas. All in all, it’s a high energy, spastic, utterly silly trip through the highs and lows of north east New Jersey’s culinary destinations.
Give the pilot a look and let’s all hope it turns into something really great for him.
*He also created the strangest film I’ve ever seen.
This was the funniest thing on Earth to me when I was 12. It is still way up there. Enjoy.
I’ve always liked the name “Wagon Christ” though it sounds more like an industrial/ebm name than this mellow, sample-based groovy stuff here. But, that doesn’t mean that this video and track aren’t sweet, just that I think of buzzsaws and four on the floor beats and distorted vocals when I hear the words “Wagon” and “Christ” put together. Maybe I’m just mixing it all up with Velvet Acid Christ? That’s probably it. And maybe “wagon” is associated with Wumpscut???? Because that’s what I expect Wagon Christ to sound like, but he does not. Not even close.
I mean, has Luke Vibert ever put out a hard edged electronic music record? I have no idea. Probably not. It’s just that the name Wagon Christ is so evocative. Someone get this guy on Metropolis Records already. Christ.
Man, I was super bummed when I missed Jeff’s Town Hall show recently. The show sold out within seconds and I was not nearly quick enough on the uptake to make it happen. Even worse, Charles ended up not going (what an asshole) and then didn’t even tell me he had extra tickets! WHAT AN ASSHOLE! But he made up for it yesterday when he sent me the link to the listing for Jeff’s January show at BAM. Everything is ok now, Charles.
Now, I don’t know if you’re a Neutral Milk Hotel fan or not (you should be), but I am so excited by the possibility of this show that I felt compelled to share it with all of you. Of course, I feel compelled to share all the time which is what has made this blog stay alive and bristling with nonsense.
Neutral Milk Hotel’s In The Aeroplane Over The Sea was one of those records that resonates strongly with people of a certain (read: my) age. I defy you to find anyone between 27 and 32 with even decent taste in music that doesn’t rank it as one of their all time favorites. Go, now! Before I get angry! Find someone! Anyone!
You can’t do it. That’s because they don’t exist.
Here’s a selection of my favorite tracks from the record.
Don’t you want to go right now?!? I know I do.