Wupatki

Here's Jen,

and here's me. We're in Arizona at a pueblo called Wupatki. They have a hole in the ground that constantly blows cold air. Guess what it's called.

It's called a blowhole. Get it. Yeah. They don't know what it did. It's located about 50 yards from any of the buildings so my air conditioning hypothesis was shattered. Maybe they used it as a blowdryer. Or to scatter confetti during parades. Or maybe they used as a point of inspiration for strangely posed pictures. Ah, the mysteries of life.

Wincing this album away.

Now, don't get me wrong. I will probably listen to this album approximately 5 times this weekend (Jen and I are traveling to Arizona) and I won't be upset about it. However, this album creates one of those weird moments you have with a band you like a lot. There's nothing offensive. There's no strangely misguided deviation from the original sound. Basically, it sounds like it is supposed to. It's just a little bit boring. The first Shins album was all creepy and dark. Behind the 60s pop melodies there lay something misanthropic and sinister. A small misanthrope, but a misanthrope nonetheless. On the second shins album the sun breaks through the clouds and there is joy throughout the land. Everyone is happy, especially the slide guitar player. This album is somewhere in between. Jen pointed out that it sounds fuller. There are more layers and lush strings and horns. It also appears that their keyboard player saved up some cash and bought a new keyboard. These things are good, but they don't add up to anything grandiose. It's 1/2 DIY, 1/2 huge. Lyrics wise, there are the same word games, but these don't seem as impressive as they once did. The witty rhymes may tickle your ear, but they don't really make you think.

As I write this, I realize that some of the criticism I am laying down would be an apt description of many bands that I champion. Hmmmm..... anyhow. The jury is still out I suppose.

thanksgiving eve

So anyone doing anything tonight? Just asking. Here's a picture that represents what's going on this evening at the casa de Patterson:

Isn't it weird how there are all these weird variations on goats, sheep and cows? I think it's weird. In a good way.

satanoscillatemymetallicsonatas

So, not to set some strange precedent for writing on this thing, but a strange thing happened to me after work today. Before I tell you, let me back up.


The other night, I thought to myself, "Are there any good cooking show podcasts that I am not currently subscribing to?" I did the only normal thing I could think of and grabbed my handy LAUSD laptop and logged in to the itunes store. I had done this earlier in the day and I was really surprised to see that there were a large number of completely different albums being featured.

"Different how?" you ask? Well, their most distinguishing characteristic was their Japanese origin. I figured I had somehow done something wrong, and since I could still read the word "podcast" (and not much else), I clicked onward. To my horror, all of the podcasts were in Japanese as well....

What did I do?

I subscribed to one. To my new horror, I was not allowed to do this and was promptly redirected to the US itunes store.

"Since that is not that cool of a story, what happened today to cause you to tell that not so cool story?", you ask? Today I received a large package from the super cool and nice (I'm assuming) folks at Southern Lord records. The package contained the following: 4 cds, 4 Lps and one t-shirt. I was very excited. The cd I was most excited about was the new collaborative album by SunnO))) and Boris, two of my favorite bands recently. I was particularly excited about this cd because it contains a second cd that has a song I have yet to hear on it. I promptly place (insert, really) this cd into my aforementioned laptop.

itunes registers this cd as the audio accompaniment to the 8th grade literature anthology that I use in my classroom. More specifically, The Diary of Anne Frank, Act 1. Strange. So I take the cd out and try again. Same. I do the sensible thing and use the "advanced" tab on the tool bar to search the CDDB for the correct track names.

Right now, you're wondering why I am still writing and not checking the pasta water that is surely boiling in my kitchen. Remember the not so cool story I told earlier? itunes has decided to identify this cd as some Japanese cd using Japanese characters. itunes will not change it's mind either.

My question is simple. Why is my itunes Japanese?

Oh, and lastly, that song that I was so excited to hear is called Her Lips Were Wet With Venom (satanoscillatemymetallicsonatas).

And it rules.

been such a long time.

I realize that I haven't been writing anything for a long time. I mean anything. I don't think I've sent an email in about a month. I can't remember the last time I actually wrote manually. More than a list at least. Strange. I wonder what this may say about my life or personality. Whenever I get introspective like this, the results are unanimously negative. I suppose I am not actually searching for answers to my questions, but merely deflecting said questions in an attempt to appear thoughtful. It's great because now, having written this, I no longer have to think about this problem. I wrote something. Problem solved.

My students want to know how much money I make. Is it strange that I am embarrassed to tell 8th graders how little I make?

Hmmm....

Jus in case you read this and didn already know....

you (who) in (is) re (mike jones?!) verse

So I realize that I am no the first person to notice this, but I was still extremely pleased to discover it.

I have been doing my best to download the new Built to Spill album. Now, how did I go about this task? That is none of your effing business. The point is, I have been downloading it. So this morning Jen asks me to put some music on and I offer to her that we can listen to the new Built to Spill album. Jen is very excited by this and we begin listening. Now, although I've downloaded the entire album, I have, until this point, not listened to any of it.

So the album begins beautifully. Lots of overdriven guitar and driving percussion with just the right amount of bluesy Doug Martch noodling thrown in. Jen and I are enjoying cleaning our room to this. But it is not long before the confusion begins. Before the vocals drift in, there is a jarring shout from none other than Houston, TX rapper Mike Jones. Now, he doesn't shout anything profane, as you might expect. He simply poses the existential question that seems to plague him on so many of his own tracks, "Who is Mike Jones?!". Jen and I are rather familiar with this query, seeing as we have enjoyed many Mike Jones songs in the past several months, but we are surprised to find that Built to Spill are pondering the same question.

Jen assumes that I am joking around with her. I have downloaded some bogus, silly and not very well mixed mash up of BTS and MJ. I assure her that I haven't and that maybe it's just this first track. We skip to the next, a laid back, plaintive acoustic into electric build uppy number and after exactly 7 seconds, there it is again. "Who is Mike Jones?!" Strange, we think. We skip to the next track. At last, we hear a breathy, almost etheral Doug Martch sing "I would only be a liar...". Pretty, with an arpegiating guitar playing along. Finally a complete song. We can relax. NO! This time the bliss lasts for a mere 6 seconds before we are forced to contemplate the meaning of human life at the insistence of none other than MIKE JONES!

What the hell can this all mean? Here I have an amazing Built to Spill album (especially in comparison to the unbearably boring Ancient Melodies of the Future) and it is marred by the "I'm In Love With A Stripper" guy? All that I can conclude is that someone has finally finally figured out how (albeit, temporarily) to enforce copyright protection in a fair and resonable way. This album, while fully awesome, does get really old with good ol' Mike Jones shouting at you every thirty seconds. I will now be forced to buy the regular album. On vinyl, so that I will be cool of course.

If anyone wants to hear this let me know. It's worth a listen.

Yay for Japan! I'm glad about this. Mostly because Sudahara Oh is such a fine sounding name. It's a good name to get your ass kicked by. And I'm Japanese. That's why. Yay!

In response to my last post. I take it all back. The Korea vs. Mexico game was awesome. Some of the awesomeness must be attributed to beer, but still awesome. The stadium was totally packed and we were wedged between rabid Korean and Mexican fans. While I feared that the delicate balance of civility would be shattered at any moment, it remained. It was more polite than an Angels Dodgers game. The game was scoreless from the third inning on which meant that no one left early. I made myself hoarse shouting something that sounded like "Te-a-min-gu!", which I was told means Korea in Korean. It probably means "Eff Mexico".

Kormex!!

So I realize that I love America. A lot. Like a lot a lot. At times, psychotically so. I think that I don't want to watch the Olympics because deep down I believe that the US has already won every event and there is no need to actually see any of them. I don't even check the medal count. It's something like US= 50,000; Others= 0, right?

All this to say, my naive patriotism has landed me in a shitty situation. I bought two tickets to the WBC on Sunday assuming that the US would be the pool B winner. How the fuck was I supposed to know that Canada of all places would beat us? Dammit!

So now, by some strange sacred astral geometry, I am stuck watching Mexico play Korea!

Let's see, US beats Mexico, Canada beats US, Mexico beats Canada, everyone beats South Africa. I don't get it. Shouldn't there be some sort of play off game between the US and Mexico? Crap.

All that to say, at least we'll be watching some great baseball played by two nationalities that, at least in my neighborhood, hate each other's guts.

So for all of those who missed it, this recent trip to Primm was a great introduction to what I hope will become something of a tradition. I'll just say that I am an idiot with regards to gambling. No, I don't lose large amounts of money. I just lose it quickly. Frustrating.

Aside from my ill conceived gambling efforts, fun was had. There was the live music (think Living Colour [the metal band] and the Black Eyed Peas put together), $6.95 all you can eat shrimp, free Coors Light, indoor smoking, beautiful women, outlet shopping and Chinese Taipei kicking the crap out of China on the tv around 1 am. Truth be told, there is not a lot to do in Primm, but it was still relaxing.

I found it very difficult to return to work on Monday. I wasn't hung over. I wasn't still drunk. I was just sad. I've begun to feel quite helpless in my efforts to educate my students. They just don't seem to be keeping up. I don't get it.

Additionally I've got an assistant principal that is giving me a particularly difficult time. I despise this person. They are every terrible manager (including Jon from that barbecue restaurant) that I've ever had rolled (and rolled) into one.

On a lighter note, we've got tickets to the WBC on Sunday at 8pm. I'm stoked.

So, I kind of feel that I am going on and on like a retired person about my voice problem. I will stop.

Right now I'm sitting in a training session for an intervention English language program. It's just about as fun as it sounds. On second thought, it is loads of relative fun. It's like this. I hate being here. The people are annoying and complain far too often. The activities that we participate in are tedious and the room is lit with flourescent lights and filled with recycled air. I find myself grinding my teeth. However, you must keep in mind that I did not have to go to work on Monday and seeing as this training is taking place Thursday and Friday, I'm looking at a two day work week. Work meaning actual time spent in the classroom. With students.

So I suppose I am enjoying myself. I've read some record reviews. I've readjusted my netflix queue. I've bought a song on itunes. I've posted some blogs/comments. All in all, something of a break in exile. Yes.

Additionally, it appears that a Hamilton appearance in Primm is a possibility. Intriguing and the makings of an epic weekend to be sure.

More talking.

So my genius doctor's brilliant plan for my strained voice has proven to be completely worthless. I spent three days not speaking and drinking tons of water (often mixed with 1/2 tons of vodka) and at the end of it all, my voice is as bad as ever. It's kind of sad because I was really hoping that this would work. Now I'll be traveling back to the hospital and hopefully seeing someone with a slightly better idea.

One of the side effects of this experiment is a strange, lingering feeling of hesitation to answer any questions people ask me before about 8:30 in the morning. As the day goes on, I'll respond freely, but those first few questions make me nervous. I keep feeling like I'm not actually supposed to be talking and I panic a little as I try to figure out how to communicate without using words. It's kind of weird.

So I haven't been talking for the past two days. As you can probably imagine, this has been driving me insane. The strange thing to me is noticing how often other people are talking. I have been watching some tv shows and I get really anxious watching the characters talk to each other. For some reason I seem to feel that they are also not allowed to talk and will be ruining their voices if they do. Weird.

Now I have occasionally slipped up. Jen will ask me a question and I will just go ahead and answer her. Not talking is a very conscious effort.

Yesterday we went to Ikea, which I would normally hate. I did hate Ikea, but recently a trip there has taken on new meaning. There is now a Chipotle restaurant near by. So I tested to see if I would rather eat a burrito than talk. Turns out while a burrito definitely improves the situation, it is definitely no substitute for talking. So I have discovered a scenario in which I would actually not rather be eating a burrito. It was a really good burrito too.

Last night we went out for Pat's birthday. It was lots of fun. We started at his house then hit the Red Lion, then crossed the street to Cha Cha. I found that since I wasn't spending my time talking, I had a lot more time to drink. And I got very drunk. Which was ok. It made my pantomimed communications all the more entertaining.

I'll talk to you later.

So I have been having a problem for the last several months. For those of you reading this that may have had the rare opportunity to speak to me in person, you may be familiar with my malady. You may have confused it with a simple "coming of age" or a vain attempt to sound more masculine and tough. Perhaps you thought that I've simply been sick for several months.

None of these are true. I visited the doctor today, and it turns out, I just talk too g-d much. Apparently, I have been straining my vocal cords (chords?). How? I suppose through teaching. Now, before you jump to any conclusions, I don't yell at my students. I very calmly tell them that they should stop being absolute failures and start acting like an effing normal person!

Well, that's actually not true. I do occasionally have to raise my voice to communicate over the shouting of approximately 30 8th graders, though, and that has made my once beautiful voice strained and gravely. I am constantly hoarse and suffer from occasional total losses of voice altogether.

All this to say, I will be talking to you later. I have been ordered to stop speaking for 72 hours. I will begin this verbal fast on Saturday the 11th of February, ending it on Monday the 13th. How will I accomplish this task? Truthfully? I don't know. I like talking. A lot. I could be accused of having a rather big mouth. Somehow I must prevail.

If you're thinking of dropping me a line, go ahead and write an email or send a text message. I won't be calling you back. If you're having a party, don't be afraid to invite me and Jen. She can still talk and I can still drink up all the Henesey you got on your shelf.

Wanna know what rules? Bloody marys.

They are delicious and nutritious and if you make them right, they will get you drunk. I am enjoying one right now. Nothing like a steak, some fried potatoes and a bloody mary with tons of tabasco sauce to start of a belated (thank you MLK) work week.

So, like most people that I assume I know, I have prematurely procured (alliteration!) the new Belle and Sebastian album.

Like most haters out there, I don't want to be the guy who carries a torch for a band long after (or even one album, for that matter) they've stopped making quality albums. Because of their seemingly impecable track record, I have a strangely unreasonable feeling of trepidation whenever I approach a new B&S album. I think it's a lingering feeling of disappointment left over from the deplorably Cat Stevens influenced "I'm Waking Up To Us" single/ep thing.

All that being said (and there's really not much more to say afterward), this new album kills. I'm serious. Nary a disappointing track to be found. It seems that album by album, B&S have only grown more formidible in their hook writing prowess. Jen described this album (oh, it's called The Life Pursuit by the way) as really bee boppy, which I don't really understand. Not from the point of a musical historian purist, but because I don't hear any real bops on it. Just a lot of extremely proficiently written, ass kicking pop music. There's even a rather wailing guitar solo.

How do they do this? I really don't know. They aren't forging new territory in a trendy new genre (re: doom/drone metal, post-post rock, brazilian new wave) but they seem to very happily and cleverly and tenderly and affectionately and sensitively and boistorously and jubiliantly and plaintivly and sexily destroy any record that gets into your collection.

As a recap, here's what your getting:
A B&S record.
Happiness

I guess it will be arriving in February with some sort of limited edition CD/DVD combo or 2LP or, for all of you who like to sleep on obviously amazing albums, the regular CD format.

Get it. They deserve yr money. And they're playing at the Wiltern some time soon. Go to that too.

So I know everyone has been sick this past month, but has anyone been excessively itchy? I sure have. I don't mean anything inappropriate. No private itching. Just itchy all over. My neck, arms, eyes, legs, feet, head. It's a little disconcerting.

Also. Despite the negative review of our frontman, rocker Jesse Gloyd, I thouroughly enjoyed our show in Fullerton and am looking extremely forward to our upcoming show this Sunday at the Mint here in LA. I can't effing wait. It will all kinds of rule.