20

I just realized that I am twenty.
I, me, the I part, I am twenty.
Griffin Weston, Age 20.

Goddamn Glorious.

I Will Stick My Head In It

This one is honestly just an opportunity to brag, because it means I'm starting to listen to too much damn hip hop develop the right ears for this game. I don't even really like these songs that much (which is not to say I don't like Deltron 3030 or De La Soul. They're amazing no matter what)
The point is I was listening this song

Which I don't expect you to listen to even though the beat is by (youbetyourass) J Dilla
Just note that, at 3:42, the words "Positive Contact"
because I diiiiiiiiid, and I went "I have heard that done elsewhere" and it was this song

which at 1:24 etc. uses the sample from the De La Soul song! What a find!

The point is I won this round.

To celebrate, I bought this.


Stop me before I buy myself a hundred dollar mouse in a fit of pressurized summer boredom backed by near-tapped limitless spare money.

Give me an outlet to produce memorable pseudo regrets neatly wrapped in a guise of usefulness which conceals their true unnecessary and foolish nature
You shut up, strikeout text.
Nobody wants to hear that.
Everyone wants to hear about VY Canis Majoris.

Edit: You know what fuck you guys. Come on.

Always, I Forget A Title

"Ecdysis expends most of its energy in its first two thirds, before lapsing into a closing trifecta of bossa ballads that do little more than sound pretty."

This.
This is what is wrong with Pitchfork media.
This is what is wrong with analyzing art.
This is what is wrong with everyone who thinks they're right.

A music review site -nay, a well-known and respected music review site- just dismissed a handful of songs as doing "little more than sound pretty".

WHAT THE FUCK ELSE IS MUSIC SUPPOSED TO DO.

FUCK YOU.

FUCK.

YOU.


I newly love this song.

This Part Is The Title

Unwanted optimism meets post-burn apprehension.
Reprehension? Ambivalence.
Pessimism fits like old coat.
Fear of the unknown has yet to be overpowered by the more powerful fear of the known.
There has yet to be a change I have accepted easily or, for that matter, wanted.
I don't sleep but I still have dreams, but I can't call them daydreams because it's nighttime.
Macular degeneration? I have perfect eyesight except on some occasions.
Must make choice between serious or poetical.
Must make choice between serious or poetical?
It isn't the drasticity, elasticity, the immanent and ultimate things that are the worst.
Things that loll gently from one thing to another, things that take time to happen, things that require work or effort or change or choice these are the worst things in the world these are the things the world is really made of this is what makes the world go round.


All of my carefully sculpted distractions are melting in the summer heat.
I don't like any of the new ones I've been offered this round.
I especially don't like the prospect of being given an entirely new hand.
This is a poker metaphor.

"Trouble with you is you don't do plenty night zazen especially when it's cold out, that's best, besides you should get married and have halfbreed babies, manuscripts, homespun blankets and mother's milk on your happy ragged mat floor like this one. Get yourself a hut house not too far from town, live cheap, go ball in the bars once in awhile, write and rumble in the hills and learn how to saw boards and talk to grandmas you damn fool, carry loads of wood for them, clap your hands at shrines, get supernatural favors, take flower-arrangement lessons and grow chrysanthemums by the door, and get married for krissakes, get a friendly smart sensitive human-being gal who don't give a shit for martinis every night and all that dumb white shit in the kitchen."

If you have ice cream I will give you some.

If you have no ice cream I will take it away from you.

This is an ice cream kōan.

That was a pun by Jack Kerouac.

Surely It Is Carried To A Wonderful Perfection In A Hive Of Bees?

Edit Edit: Aaaaand fucking DONE. "Leading the Cavalry" is an achievement for collecting FIFTY unique mounts. It cost me a week of grinding and 2000g in mount money.
In reward, you get this:


Edit: Busy Busy BUSY




So....what did YOU do over the weekend?


Yeah.....I was busy too.

I'm so tired of WoW.
Holy God.

School's done. Work's done enough. Two months of sitting await me. There's things that need doing, certainly. But that was never the definition of bored, that "there wasn't anything to do".
You can be bored in the middle of a typhoon if you like.
Busy, busy, busy.

I wish I could play the piano real bad, but for selfish and shallow reasons.
I just want to be able to play and talk real sardonically over my ownself like Dr. House does on the television. Observe.


Also, you can't play hours upon hours of WoW without some helpful audio cues. I cycled back and forth between two songs for two entire days. They are, in order:

(What a pretty picture!)


(Give it a few minutes benefit of the doubt)

These are the things I do, day in and day out

Their Vocations Are Petrified And No Longer Connected With Life

I have to declare a major.
If not now, soon.

What on earth am I going to do with myself.
I am a person based on lies, or at least intense heresy.
I'm very good at pretending to be very good at something.
Or rather, convincing people I am smarter than them.
If you cut off my internet I would just be a bit of a prick, I fear.

I have conflicting interests in not-being-poor and not-being-uninteresting, and until I decide which one is more important to me, I cannot progress.

Here is some Slum Village. I'm trying to be less coercive in my musical presentation, because it will either end up bullying people into agreeing with me or challenging people to disagree automatically. So here is some Slum Village, it is what I have been listening to recently, I hope someone else likes it too.

I wish I didn't have to decide between Science and Not-Science, but that is really what it boils down to. Actually, I have three options, but one of them is by nature a non-option and is thus disqualified.They are as follows: Something Science-y (Biology, Chemistry, Mathematics), Something Non-Science-y (Logic, Philosophy, English, History), or something Neither Science-y or Non-Science-y (Business, Politics, Other Boring Shit I Refuse To Acknowledge 70% Of Society Makes A Living Off Of).

I have no auxiliary inborn talent of Art or Music or Passion to hide behind.

Go down the street. Ask people what they do. Conduct a survey. Or, let the fine folks at the Bureau of Labor Statistics do one for you.
That is what America did in 2006.
America did a lot of shit I am not interested in doing.

I have come to an interesting conclusion:
By accepting this life of Academia, by continuing my education to this college undergraduate level -Or rather, by my very nature of being (i.e. a hopeless intellectual) - I have set incredible self-restrictions.
I can never just work Retail, or be a Cashier, or an Office Clerk (the three most common job areas reported in 2006 by the BLS survey of 150,000,000 people).
This is not to say I will never hold jobs in these areas, it is just that I will only do so as a means of sustenance while I work towards something else.

I had originally written "something greater", but then I looked real hard in a mirror and realized I had no definition of the concept of greater-than-ness as a predicate of an occupation.

The jobs you learn to do at college are only a thin sliver of the total amount of possible jobs there are in the world, and they tend to fall within a few constraints. That is to say, the vast majority of jobs done by Americans today are not taught in Universities, they are taught in Real Life.

My dad played music and worked in a recording studio. My mom plays music and refurbishes antique furniture and writes columns.
My brother, curséd man of letters as he is, just got a Masters in Creative Writing and thus serves tequila in a Mexican bar. Previously he sold designer jeans.

The concept I am dancing around is this: The very act of going to college and declaring a major is equivalent to claiming intellectual separation (and subsequent superiority) over the vast majority of all people.
The reason I am dancing around it is because I simultaneously dislike and believe in such a concept.

I am reluctant to make such a strident claim. My sheepish and apologetic-to-the-world nature rebels at the thought.
I already have made such a strident claim. My supermassive ego and perceptive cynicism arrived logically at the result years ago.

Here are a few of the classes I took at the University of Washington:
-General Chemistry
-Biology - Introduction to Psychotropics
-History of the Space Age
-PreCalculus

Here are a few of the classes I took at Maui Community College:
-Asian Philosophy
-Regional Geography
-Archaeology
-Logic

I am exceedingly well rounded in the already-highly-specified meta-area of Academia. I can use a hyphen like a motherfucker and take average notes.
You want me to confine myself even further? Limit my possibilities, my potential?
My Verschränkung? (look that one up, fuckers)
Is that what you want? The collapse of my academic wavefunction? I won't stand for it. I rebel against the concept with every fiber of my being.

I fear I am headed towards a major in Philosophy and I will be destitute, worthless, unproductive and bored.
However, I will be witty, clever, and spiritually fulfilled, not to mention fun at parties.
I fear I am headed towards a major in Science and I will be not-smart-enough, secretly uninterested and confused, and bored.
However, I will be informed, impressive, and capable, not to mention fun at parties.

I kind of want to be a robopsychologist like Susan Calvin from Asimov's Robot series...

To First Understand Recursion...

Edit: Current "Too Many Dicks (On The Dance Floor) play count is at 77 - not counting watching the youtube video.

Thanks to being reminded of Girl Talk, I just spent the last two hours doing pointless music research and development; getting worked up over some new program (Adobe Audition this time as opposed to Ableton Live), fiddling with a few things, and slowly coming to the conclusion that, as with all things, the only way to get good at this is through practice and effort.

Anyway, here is a song by Girl Talk

And here are all the songs in that song:
Mariah Carey - It's Like That
James Taylor - Your Smiling Face
then, for like a second, Ludacris - Number One Spot WHICH IN ITSELF IS JUST A SAMPLE OF Quincy Jones - Soul Bossa Nova
then back to the Mariah beat with 50 Cent - In Da Club mixed with the flute from Timbaland & Magoo - Indian Flute (AND BTW THE SAMPLE IS NOT AN INDIAN FLUTE, IT'S A COLUMBIAN FLUTE FROM Totó la Momposin - Curura)
then it changes from Mariahs beat to The Pixies - Where Is My Mind and then the 50/Timbaland stuff for this stupid fucker Nas - Hate Me Now (Beat, incidentally, by P Diddy back when he was calling himself Puff Daddy) and then for like a second puts in Young Gunz - Can't Stop Won't Stop fuckin...somewhere, and then uses a ELECTRIC MUSIC SEGUE HE MADE UP HIMSELF to get to these stupid fuckers D4L - Laffy Taffy, then dredges up a clip so rare there IS no youtube video for it, DJ Funk - Hold Up and trails off with Weezer- Say It Ain't So.

Now, someone has probably done this all before, but I bet someone has done all the logic problems in my book before I have.

Oh yeah, and the guy that made this song? Looks like this:

So you can fuck right off, guy, as can your freakishly expansive musical collection and magical ears.

Ugh. Despite Girl Talk's midas-touch powers, that much stupid rap left a bad taste in my mouth.
One of these posts I'm going to inevitably have to defend myself for listening to as much hip hop as I do. But if Whitey McWhiteWhite up there can mix Nas with the Pixies, I can listen to whatever the hell I want, because if the universe was going to collapse on itself it would have from that.

Here is a short preview I offer for that upcoming post.
Two words, shitdick: J. Motherfucking. Dilla.
So, well, three words. J Dilla was, hands down, the best beatmaker of his time. But that is for another entry.

Also, remember the '90s? I sure don't.