Monday, May 25, 2009
#1: Twitter.
Dear Twitter,
No one cares. No one likes you. Oprah apparently has an affinity for your technology but truth be told Facebook already employs your status update, or "tweet." Honestly I believe you to be the worst and most useless use of the internet since Geocities- that in itself is another post.
There are things in life i would rather do than "tweet." Such as: poop, read, wear sunglasses, drink root beer, drink beer, talk to my neighbors, drive for eight hours, drink a "Jooze," drink anything, breathe, live, die, decompose, understand fractal geometry, enter a facial hair competition with Hugh Jackman, figure out basic geometry, figure out gravity, figure out why we use the word 'figure,' sleep, be lazy, be active, be.
I hate you Twitter. I hate how you imply that every person in the world needs to know what their friends/family are doing at every second of every day. You make obsessive and crazy girlfriends/boyfriends have a reason for being. You are a reason for me to own a handgun.
Sincerely,
E.
No one cares. No one likes you. Oprah apparently has an affinity for your technology but truth be told Facebook already employs your status update, or "tweet." Honestly I believe you to be the worst and most useless use of the internet since Geocities- that in itself is another post.
There are things in life i would rather do than "tweet." Such as: poop, read, wear sunglasses, drink root beer, drink beer, talk to my neighbors, drive for eight hours, drink a "Jooze," drink anything, breathe, live, die, decompose, understand fractal geometry, enter a facial hair competition with Hugh Jackman, figure out basic geometry, figure out gravity, figure out why we use the word 'figure,' sleep, be lazy, be active, be.
I hate you Twitter. I hate how you imply that every person in the world needs to know what their friends/family are doing at every second of every day. You make obsessive and crazy girlfriends/boyfriends have a reason for being. You are a reason for me to own a handgun.
Sincerely,
E.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Over-Rated Band #1- NIRVANA
When I think of Nirvana I think Kurt Cobain. Immediately. The soft spoken lead singer of Nirvana was a fantastic singer, songwriter and a truly troubled endearing intellectual. His tragic death touched many in the music community and all over the world. I remember hearing of his death and seeing the terrifying displays of tears from his beloved fans. His lyrics were incredibly deep and insightful-
"Meat-eating orchids forgive no one just yet
Cut myself angel's hair and baby's breath
Broken hymen of your highness I'm left black
Throw down your umbilical noose so I can climb right back"
-Heart-Shaped Box
Nirvana opened up a new genre of music. Grunge. With all due repsect for Nirvana- they started grunge. Grunge. Grunge brought Pearl Jam. Pearl Jam brought tears to my eyes- not exactly tears of joy, but more along the lines of misery that Pearl Jam became... well Pearl Jam.
But this is not about Hurl Jam. This is about Nirvana. You cannot escape Nirvana. I would put five dollars down that my own mother knows the lyrics to Smells Like Teen Spirit simply from driving me to school and back and the damn radio jockey's unknown obsession with continuously repeating the track over and over. I cannot walk through my college campus without seeing a Nirvana poster displayed right next to the obligatory Scarface poster in 5 out of ten dorm rooms. Tie-dye went out of fashion the minute someone tie-dyed a shirt. But I cannot seem to reason why everyone owns a tie-dyed Nirvana shirt. In normal conversation with your average college stoner, if you speak wrongly of Nirvana, watch out. That kid might just actually open his eyes past a squint and get angry.
Nirvana is over-rated.
"Meat-eating orchids forgive no one just yet
Cut myself angel's hair and baby's breath
Broken hymen of your highness I'm left black
Throw down your umbilical noose so I can climb right back"
-Heart-Shaped Box
Nirvana opened up a new genre of music. Grunge. With all due repsect for Nirvana- they started grunge. Grunge. Grunge brought Pearl Jam. Pearl Jam brought tears to my eyes- not exactly tears of joy, but more along the lines of misery that Pearl Jam became... well Pearl Jam.
But this is not about Hurl Jam. This is about Nirvana. You cannot escape Nirvana. I would put five dollars down that my own mother knows the lyrics to Smells Like Teen Spirit simply from driving me to school and back and the damn radio jockey's unknown obsession with continuously repeating the track over and over. I cannot walk through my college campus without seeing a Nirvana poster displayed right next to the obligatory Scarface poster in 5 out of ten dorm rooms. Tie-dye went out of fashion the minute someone tie-dyed a shirt. But I cannot seem to reason why everyone owns a tie-dyed Nirvana shirt. In normal conversation with your average college stoner, if you speak wrongly of Nirvana, watch out. That kid might just actually open his eyes past a squint and get angry.
Nirvana is over-rated.
Over-rated Bands. The series.
I will begin an ongoing segment I would like to call "Over-rated bands." You may not agree with these choices and you may get downright offended. I will hopefully make an argument that is hard to disagree with.
These are going to be bands that have been overplayed, over-loved and somehow horrifyingly established mini-fanatic-cult-like followings whose members abhorrently display their undying passion through the medium of t-shirts, stickers, and whatever else they can get their grubby little hands on.
I in no way am saying that these are bad bands, but maybe I am saying they have bad fans.
So it begins...
These are going to be bands that have been overplayed, over-loved and somehow horrifyingly established mini-fanatic-cult-like followings whose members abhorrently display their undying passion through the medium of t-shirts, stickers, and whatever else they can get their grubby little hands on.
I in no way am saying that these are bad bands, but maybe I am saying they have bad fans.
So it begins...
Dear Descartes,
You said, "I think therefore I am. "
You slimy bastard. I know hundreds of people and plenty of them don't think. They don't amount to much in my opinion.
Love, Erik.
P.S. I am no exception.
You slimy bastard. I know hundreds of people and plenty of them don't think. They don't amount to much in my opinion.
Love, Erik.
P.S. I am no exception.
We seem, as conscious sentient beings, to idolize others in their absence. When that person is gone and stripped from your life a stake is driven into your heart and all your mind wants to remember is what you miss. The bad stigmas seem to dissipate over time.
A golden goddess rises like a phoenix from the ashes and the flames.
Perfect.
Absolute.
Untouchable.
It's too late. Chances have run out. Reality gets too abrasive and the only thing you can hold on to you can't even touch. The intangible memories. The fake what if's.
Wishes are hopes that only the logical can reason will never come true.
Hopes are logical peoples wishes.
A golden goddess rises like a phoenix from the ashes and the flames.
Perfect.
Absolute.
Untouchable.
It's too late. Chances have run out. Reality gets too abrasive and the only thing you can hold on to you can't even touch. The intangible memories. The fake what if's.
Wishes are hopes that only the logical can reason will never come true.
Hopes are logical peoples wishes.
College frustrates me.
The encouragement of profound and meaningful thought can never be found in institutions dedicated to breeding these moments.
These glimpses into the thoughtful psyche can and only be found when...
---I would like to think that college stimulates and encourages the mind. It does, it does. But to have a regimented schedule is a large enough limit on a mind to depress the sparks of meaningful moments.
These glimpses into the thoughtful psyche can and only be found when...
---I would like to think that college stimulates and encourages the mind. It does, it does. But to have a regimented schedule is a large enough limit on a mind to depress the sparks of meaningful moments.
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