Revisiting a Poem I Didn’t Really Like, but Read for a Russian Audience Anyway

March 22, 2010 – 10:28 am

I wrote this ‘poem’ on November eleventh, a few days after I had a party at my apartment:

‘If it weren’t so cold, we’d probably have an epidemic’

This party in my apartment has been fossilized cuz
the bottles are still
all over the floor and table
the windowsill too
like an image I can’t think of but less trite than
memories
and I’m probably too lazy to throw them out.

You see, the other ones from
the old party are sitting under the table,
where I hid them from my landlady
cuz she’s got a prying eye
that I’m trying to avoid
like something more thoughtful than
the plague
the Russians have started wearing masks again

quiet chuckle,
laughing while I collect fossils.

Today, I attended an “American Poetry Contest” that I was supposed to ‘judge’. The person in charge of this competition ‘had heard from someone that sometimes I write poetry’ and insisted that I read something. I browsed my tumblr and decided that this was the least vulgar/most suitable. I like/hate this, in the way that fathers feel let down when their child doesn’t make varsity/get into a good college/has unprotected sex etc.

I think in general when I write poetry I am ‘obviously trying to hard’. I think this is because I never went to workshops/only ever read poetry in liberal arts lit classes/always though Jose was better at it than I.

This poem was supposed to be ‘ironic’, supposed to serve as a ‘poetic excuse as to why I’m bad at poetry’. I was trying to use ‘cliche images in a non cliche way’ that was also relevant to current events/feelings/interpretations of society.

like an image I can’t think of but less trite than
memories

like something more thoughtful than
the plague

This attempt to use cliches as noncliches was supposed to be evident here. I was trying to be ‘ironically meaningful’. Being a college-educated individual, I am aware that memories are often embodied as/represented by objects in poetry. Here, I wanted to indicate that the ‘party mess/bottles’ represented my memories of recent party type events/thoughts of my recent relocation. At the same time, I wanted to show that, being a college-educated individual, I knew that this was a weak/lame/unimaginative image that to most has no real meaning to ‘real poets’. I also thought that in my post-party state, admitting my own shortcomings and inability to think of something better was ultimately ‘more real’ or at least ‘less terrible’. I thought I had found poetry in the mundane, and had thus given the cliche somewhat of a new meaning. Being ‘too lazy to throw them out’ was supposed again illustrate the problem of the bottles/trouble with cluttered memories/not knowing a better way to express myself.

Looking back, I think it falls short.

I then attempt to carry the ‘memory bottles’ into the second stanza, where they are hidden. I thought these ‘hidden bottles’ would communicate my magnitude of party & drinking/shame of being ‘socially’ and ‘physically’ messy. I think this was actually somewhat successful.

In the second example you see above, I again was trying to ‘refresh a cliche’ via the plague. ‘Avoiding something like the plague’ is such a common image I wanted to renew it with a similar ironic approach. Again, I attempt to communicated my reduced ‘post-party’ mental state through self-admission of lame imagery.  Again, I admit that I know using such a phrase is common/meaningless/really kinda dumb, but I tried to renew it with a slight nod towards ‘the swine flu epidemic’ and how all of the Russians were wearing masks like it was the end of the world. This was supposed to make it ‘alive’ cause the plague was something that people felt was real.

Here I really fail, being that I make it absolutely impossible to infer how ‘the Russians’ and ‘the plague’ are related, except if you knew exactly what was happening in the November of 2009 and were some sort of genius that somehow could figure out such an obtuse image. Should have thrown a ‘piggy flu’ in there for good measure/more clarity. The passage was also somehow supposed to show a disconnect between me and the Russians, but I absolutely fail to mention my own ‘masklessness’ in any way. As a whole, it’s horribly overpersonalized.

I also thought that using ‘classically unacceptable’ language would make me seem more ‘non-traditional’. Hence my use of ‘cuz’. It was also an aesthetic choice, I liked the way it looked. I left it at that because I didn’t want to overuse it/draw attention away from other things. Now I mostly see it as distracting. Maybe that’s a good thing.

There’s one thing that did seem to work when reading it aloud today. Concerning the tone, the poem was supposed to be funny. Or at least not so serious at the surface level. I think that’s hard to tell from my standpoint as the author, but the Russians laughed at the ‘right parts’. So I guess not all was lost.

By Keith Birthday | Posted in Poetry, Review, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , | Comments (2)

Text messages I have received within the past week

March 19, 2010 – 9:04 pm

“Um sure.”

“Thanks, but I’ll have to decline. Next tome (sic) I invite you to an event we’ll travel there together.”

“You doing okay dave?”

“Forget it”

“It is a okay david i was about to start laundry anyways”

“As long as my bf doesn’t mind.”

“Well don’t worry about it then. I should aim for a little more sleep anyway.”

“At a rave. You?”

By tonyorlandoshouse | Posted in Uncategorized | Tags: , , | Leave a Comment

I Visited Seattle Once When I Still Lived on the East Coast

March 18, 2010 – 12:00 pm

It was a little more than year ago when I visited Seattle my friend Dan with the idea that I would write an article about it. The article didn’t get published. I decided to edit and post it, with added commentary from an older, wiser self currently residing in Seattle. It’s like I’m reviewing myself!

The Friends You Already Have at Home [Hah!]. (Or, Wasted in Seattle.) [accurate]

What would make someone want to leave our fair city of Philadelphia? For me, it was soon to be college graduate anxiety. What will I do? I would pick a place where I knew at least one person. And I do know a person—in Seattle.  I went with my friend Dan.

Dan and I figured that if nothing else, we were going to get wasted—at least we hoped we would. Well, we did that. According to my calculations, we were sober for about ten hours of the six days. I’ve pieced together a guide to Seattle. It is split into sections.

[I think that I sound pretty lame in the above paragraphs. I think the above needs something called a "lead". I learned that by wiki-ing "journalism style". What happened here is that I expected an interesting narrative to pop out at me after looking through notes. Then I started transcribing the notes and said "fuck it". This is a common problem for me. This is why I gravitate towards certain schools of contemporary poetry. This is why I've written < 2 somewhat successful prose pieces. ]

Getting Around

Seattleites are friendly [more like polite ] but they don’t seem to have any sense of direction [OMG so true]. Or at least the ones I asked for directions on my first night in the city. If you can at least figure out which bus to take, the driver will help you out. You’ve got no choice but the bus, since there’s no subway. Word is that they’re putting together an integrated light-rail system [this has since happened and it stops nowhere I want to be. Actually it might run up Capitol Hill which would be sorta sweet], whatever that means, sometime in the future. Be ready to get really fucking lost. Dan and I spent two hours trying to get to Capitol Hill (I think) to get to the first bar of our gay barhopping night (don’t ask)[I won't tell; it's really really really funny seeing places we visited on our lost ramble, now knowing where they lie in relation to the Hill]. Apparently “go up the hill” and “go down the hill”” do not work for finding your way in Seattle [This actually does work for certain hills].

Getting Going

We went to the Space Needle. We went about as far as a block away; it was raining so we were like, “ok we saw it, let’s have a beer”. I made a point to visit the central library. It’s huge, magnificent [that library scares the shit out of me. I do not think it was made for humans], and will probably make you very sad that here in Philadelphia the trend is to close libraries. [what am I, five?]

Golden Gardens is a long bus trip (from the Central District) and walk down a steep wooded path to a beach on Puget Sound [I visited this again with my family when they came out. Did not disappoint. I also had no clue that we had crossed water and ended up in Ballard]. People were burning old Christmas trees in a fire pit on the beach.

Pike Place Market is surprisingly not a waste of time [still true]. I wanted to do a number two but when I found the toilet it was smeared in number two so I decided I could hold it.

We visited what our guides call “Johnny Cash” beach. It’s not really called that, and I don’t know what body of water it faces [the name of the beach is Howell beach; it is a clothing-optional beach. This beach was better during the summer; I think it's on lake Union]. On the way back, we stalked around what our hosts told us was Kurt Cobain’s house.

Getting Wet

It rains in Seattle [fuck yes it does]! My flight into the city was cloudy with 90 percent chance of waiting half an hour for the bus with all my shit that got soaked in between the airplane and the airport [holy shit did I actually write that]. And then it rained more, flooding I-5 and cutting Seattle off from Olympia and Portland. Even native Seattleites [still unclear on this] commented (maybe for our benefit) that it was rainier than usual [Seattle is apparently on average rainier than it was in the last century or something like that. The municipal street drains can't handle it. My basement can't handle it. It blows]. The weather held out the rest of the week—we even saw sky! But only when dark out.

Getting Friends

Comparing Seattle to Philly, Greyson told me that Seattle people are more open; friendlier [HA; cf. Tao Lin, "Seattle Lies"]. On the other hand, she sees Seattleites as more similar to Philadelphians than Portlanders(?) [seems like Portlanders are the best.] or Olympians. Dan said that he liked hanging out with kids who had “a similar mindset”; that it was like hanging out with friends he already had. I think it was a bit like if a better dressed West Philly completely shut down and collectively decided to have drunken sledding party in response to snowed out roads (this actually happened the week before we arrived) [this is far from true. This may be a result of observer effect or whatever. The week we were in Seattle was an exception in terms of people's friskiness and general willingness to 'rage']. Where else would a night at the bar turn into an arm wrestling tournament? where Dan comes out as champion? [I wish I still had the pictures]

Getting Rid of Cash

We went to three record stores.

Getting Food

You can get meal for ten or less easy. That’s before beer [and 10% sales tax]. This is where we went: Glo’s Café, Pagliacci (pizza and draft beer!), 5 point (diner and beer!), some random spot in Golden Gardens, Meskel (Ethiopian), which happened to be down the Street from Greyson’s house. Ballet (Vietnamese) marked the end of an all-day collective hangover on Saturday [I ended up visiting Ballet again after walking it off from Belltown. Seems like this place was made for me.]. You can get beer at most restaurants here [DUH]. Bill’s off Broadway was the jumping off point for the night that ended in the all Saturday hangover. All of these places, excepting Meskel and 5 point [and the spot on Golden Gardens], are on Capitol Hill [actually, Pagliacchi was in the U-District].

[Funny story. Looking for a place to eat or drink Dan and I passed this place called "The Comet Tavern". We peeked in but decided that we would get our asses beat if we went into that bar. I don't know why we thought this.]

The Twilight Exit [since moved to 26th and Cherry], was our first stop after waiting for Dan to Greyson’s house. Nothing helps you beat jet lag like a frosty can of Olympia beer. Or seven. [wow. I should write for AAA, or maybe for Vice when their target audience hits 45]

Getting Your Face Melted

We went to a show in Beacon Hill [at Monstersorri] and saw Filth Mattress, members of which we had been getting drunk with for the past week. Pipsqueek opened; they were a folk-punk thing with acoustic guitar and cello/violin [wait. I fucking hate ________-punk.]; they’re from Olympia; they barely got there thanks to the flooding. I bought Grass Widow’s CD, because they are awesome [feel ahead on the curve on this one. Wish I could get 'mad cred' for this]. I fall in love with girl bands. I don’t remember the name of the last band.

Getting PARTY

One of my favorite surprises was going out for pizza and realizing that they had beer on tap—good, cheap beer on tap [why italics? I can't believe how blown away I was, but you know what? I was. However, I have since learned that Washington has the most insane liquor laws in the nation. Fuck. Seattle is a city where the bars call closing time at quarter after one and are shoving you our the door at half past.] What the fuck Philadelphia? There seems to be no minimum for using your credit card [except for the Cha Cha], which is awesome. You can get wine and beer at gas stations (I know you can do this just about anywhere that isn’t PA/Philly), and our hosts were shocked to hear that we couldn’t do the same here in Philly. What the fuck Philadelphia? Oh, and beer’s cheaper, consistently five bucks for a sixer of the PBR-line [depending on neighborhood]. $9-11 for a  six-pack of nicer beer at 7-11 [No malt liquor. Looking back, I feel like this lack of easily accessible malt liquor may have significantly improved my life].

There were several pictures; all of which were lost in the great ibook meltdown 0f 2009, which I will interpret with words from memory:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2009.01.08

4561 Yes, I watch Dan while he sleeps.

Dan asleep

Feet uncovered

Under a plaid patterned sleeping bag

He sleeps on mattress cushions

They have been removed and laid out on the floor

In the foreground there is a coffee table, surface unseen

4562 Dan wakes up, realizes I watch him while he sleeps.

He looks somewhat confused and maybe violated

He is still wearing his hat

4570 Greyson waits for Ezra and John to get homebrew stuff.

She hangs out of the open door of an econovan in black pants and beanie

She is stick thin

4571 Dan and Greyson wait in the van while I take shitty photos.

Outside is washed out and gray

4576 Waiting for the bus. The last one passed us without stopping!

Outside is washed out wet and gray

4586 This library is huge.

Large concrete wall

Microsoft auditorium

4601 Ok we saw it let’s go drink.

Space Needle is boring

4602 Ok we saw it let’s go drink.

Space Needle is still boring

4604 Miniburgers and ‘tots at 5 Point.

Recently, a friend of mine appeared in the Stranger

He was at the 5 Point anniversary

Mouth full of fries

2009.01.09

4626 Dan picked some tunes but I don’t think they ever got played

This is a jukebox

This is a jukebox

Twilight I miss the pool table

Ping Pong is cool I guess

4633 Dan versus Ezra

He is very strong

4634 Dan’s alter-ego, “BroDan”, is winning.

He knows and smiles

Like he is strong

4635 BroDan for the win!

He knows and thus he

Is proud like

He is strong

4639 Greyson took this one. Just about sums up the night.

Flash

Finger

Thumb

Fuck!

4642 Greyson and…I forget her name.

Her name is Ren—she gave me a job

Which I lost

4643 BroDan takes on the line cook at Twilight Exit

Backwards hat

For the win

Sorry Mom

4656 The sky was always like this. Surprise!

It is overcast

4662 Mountains!

Booyah

I can see Rainier from the street intersecting with the one upon which my house lies

Rainier [not pictured]

4666 Records! (Zion’s Gate)

Yes, you can buy records

Her you can buy

2009.01.10

4691 I CAN’T HEAR YOU (80’s Night at Neighbors)

Gays jus’ wanna have fun

Sometimes I stand outside Linda’s where everyone seems very concerned with having a good time

Or appearing to have a good time but not really making the cut and

From there, outside of Linda’s

I look up at R Place and see waving arms and a disco ball

Gay people party like this (torso and hip motion)

And straight people party like this (torso and hip motion)

Pony has strobe lights in Men’s bathroom

Wish I were gay

Maybe I can try

4702 Dan is a handsome man.

Yes he is

4762 They have this here fish on a string. They use it to scare the shit out of kids at Pike Place Market.

Avoid coke laced

With Levamisole

(Deworming.)

4770 Obligatory Picture of Street Art in McJawn Article (Nike Store)

A penis or something

Seemed clever at the time

4772 How did we get so drunk last night?

Alcohol

4281 I don’t know maybe it was my sweater.

No it was not

2009.01.11

4817 Kurt Cobain’s House

It was dark out

Did y’all watch Last Days?

Love you Kim Gordon

I guess

4828 John and Delicious Soup

Satay

Vomiting water, a day!

Way on the walk up remembered a jaeger bomb

(Sorry Mom)

Pho

Than Brothers is also good

4838 Dan vomits posters before show (Beacon Hill)

A revoir scene!

2009.01.12

4820 Hang In There!

Advice to Seattle from Dan:

Do go Kurt Cobain on me

I called shotgun

Which makes you

Kurt Cobain

Too soon?

4873 Water!

Water!

4876 Water!

More Water!

4884 This is where beer comes from.

Wondering what this is a picture of

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By rubpawpress | Posted in Poetry | Tags: , | Leave a Comment

Siberia Is Really White/Random French Photographer I Met on the Street

March 17, 2010 – 11:37 pm

along the bank of the frozen river Томь (Tom)

This photograph was successfully taken after walking through waist-deep snow in order to reach the river bank where the snow was actually somewhat packed and therefore easier to walk upon. I had ended up at this place because I had recently found Ljubisa on the street. Found? I was walking home from work one day when I saw a man who ‘was looking around like he was new’. He also had a suitcase/was wearing a northface jacket and therefore looked ‘decidedly not Russian’. I decided to tail him slightly, just for a few seconds, in order to figure out his ‘deal’. Using my extremely sneaky stalker-esque skills (don’t know why I’m admitting that) I noticed that the book in the pocket of the suitcase he was pulling behind him somewhat clumsily (snow/ice/slush everywhere) was definitely not printed in the Cyrillic alphabet.

Then I walked by him, all whilst trying to decide whether I should say something to him, or at least offer my help. Finally decided it would be better to ask. So, in what was probably a ‘decidedly creepy move’ (apparently I like the word decidedly today) I made an about face, walked up to him and asked him “Do you need any help?”

Further inquiry led me to find out that he was a photographer from Paris, on the last leg of his trip to take photographs of Russia/the Taiga/Wilderness/Open spaces. He had come to Tomsk in order to see ‘what all the hype was about’. We hit it off very well, met some friends at a cafe and from there it was decided that he was to stay at my apartment instead of at a hotel. What followed were two very lovely days of showing him various empty type places in Tomsk for him to photograph (his are better than mine above). Sometimes it’s good to talk to strangers.

PS – His name was Ljubisa Danilovic (a decidedly slavic name [Serbian]). You can find his photographs here (I like them)

Granted I did edit this photo somewhat, but the sky is actually the same color as the ground these days.

By Keith Birthday | Posted in Photos, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments (1)

Messages I Have Actually Sent To Girls On OKCupid

March 16, 2010 – 10:01 pm

that one picture

sorta looks like you’re wearing ‘fashion lederhosen’. I’m sorta sad that I probably couldn’t ‘pull off’ that look.

(No subject)

I knew a guy who only had a thumb on one hand. It looked really weird. He was from the Ukraine, we would see him at the ukrainian catholic church just down the road where we went to by perogies every wednesday. He was in charge of the raffle tickets. He told me stories about the war and such. Then he would give me old/broken toys and my sister slightly used/dirty stuffed animals. Kinda weird but oddly charming. He had a friend he would always hang out with, often he would quack like a duck. We called him ‘Duckman’.

comixxxxxxxxxxxxx

realized all those x’s can be interpreted as ‘porno related’. this message is not supposed to be that way. I usually express exuberance through additional consonants.

Either way, think it’s rad you like Comics and all because you seem all socially well adjusted and such and I guess in a way ‘defy the stereotype’ that comic readers don’t shower/are mouth breathers/drool/etc.

Are you familiar with any of Chris Ware’s work? He’s by far my favorite comic author/artist and I basically always end up talking with everyone about him. I think it’s because I secretly feel I don’t know enough about comics and try to start the comic related convos ‘guns a blazin’ in order that people think I know what I’m talking about. I don’t, I studied german, linguistics, music and russian, so nothing where I feel as though I possess the tools to ‘analyze and/or discuss art while feeling I am well informed’.

I guess basically this message can be summed up that I think you seem/are pretty rad via your internet profile and wouldn’t mind having an ‘online dialogue’. Think we could probably be internet friends or something. sorry if this message is creepy/sends chills up your spine, it wasn’t the intention.

(No subject)

could you please tell me what library of congress film features boxing cats, I think I’d like to see cats box. I wonder if it is how I imagine

(No subject)

not being able to ride a bike is a little bit sad, and I’m sure you’re more than capable. Not sure if the e in your name is long or short, my education always causing me to overthink these things.

(No subject)

not tall, not tall by any means, but most certainly intrigued by your knowledge of languages I have limited experience with/in.

Actually reminds me of something I considered while composing what is supposed to be my profile in other languages. Did you also feel kinda lame/sorta like a douche/just a little pretentious when doing so? Kinda feel like that maybe people will interpret it too much as ‘showing off’.

Is Austin as cool as it’s supposed to be? Am I missing out on significant cultural experiences because I have my American home base in a different city? Is texas as insane as the stereotypes perpetuate?

In fact, the only people I know who’ve spent a considerable amount of time in Texas are Russians who were there on exchange programs, they tended to stay in small towns, feel like their perspectives could be warped.

scrabble

If I were currently anywhere near philadelphia, I would totally challenge you to scrabble, and it would be very competitive.

(No subject)

So why would a lady like yourself from the other side of the country view my profile. Sorta wish you had messaged or ‘winked’ at me (ironically of course). Sorry if I don’t send you pictures of my penis, I know you want them but this computer doesn’t have bluetooth (lol).

I like international travel too. in fact, I am currently writing this message from a hostel in Warsaw, Poland. No lie, I promise.

I’m actually really happy that my knowledge of russian has allowed me to be able to pretty accurately read things here. It’s helpful in restaurants and supermarkets. Also helpful when trying to order food from sweet old ladies in these things called ‘milk bars’. The name makes me think of a clockwork orange.

This message is sort of a disaster. Think you look cute in your pix, think that’s the point. Think it would be nice to talk to you on the internet. I guess you get to decide via responding/not responding.

(No subject)

I’m really trying to think of something relatively clever to say, being that your profile has revealed to me that you’re apparently ‘very selective’ when it comes to responding to messages. I get hesitant when it comes to those, think it means that you get tons of messages and then don’t respond to most of them. I think this way because when one doesn’t receive messages back from people one finds interesting it ends up being a small blow to one’s self esteem….or something like that.

So why I decided to get in touch with you…. I guess I would have to admit it was the somewhat extremely descriptive passage about your sexual tendencies, I am a human and male after all. Also the idea that you like brains and are an artist and like things ‘beyond your corner of the world’. I like things like that too. As far as the internet is concerned, we could at least be pretty good friends. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I’m going to go ahead and say that I think it’s funny that I’m currently messaging you from a hostel in Warsaw, Poland. I also think it’s ridiculous that I even continue to use OKcupid while I’m not living in Philly , or even america for that matter. I guess I’m attempting to line up some sort of ‘good date’ for when I return in august. Also probably because the site is kinda fun.

I think we probably like similar books. Probably similar music. I don’t really know enough about art to claim similarity in taste there but I do enjoy it. I’d like to think you appreciate comic books (the good ones). I hope that you like cheesy sci-f i flicks in addition to apocalyptic ones. I’m thinking Zardoz or Plan 9 from outer space. I guess to put it simply, I think that establishing a dialogue with you is a good idea. Hopefully you agree and find me cool/interesting/not creepy.

I wanted to see what my messages looked like outside the context of a dating website. Upon rereading/reflection, they all seem to be kinda weird/borderline creepy [maybe it's just my embarrassment].

Can you tell which ones did/did not get responses?

By Keith Birthday | Posted in Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment

The Improbable Story of a Sweatshirt

March 16, 2010 – 10:10 am

A sorta crappy short story type thing by Keith Birthday

this was really the best street view I could find.....

This is Hatfield, Pennsylvania.

Nestled in the southeastern corner of the state, Hatfield boasted a population of around 2,500 and covered a total area of 0.6 square miles. The folks there enjoyed a peaceful, simple suburban life. There was a wal-mart, a mall, and many popular chain stores nearby. Hatfield was also home to the somewhat famous meatpacking/hot dog company. Often people affectionately referred to the town as ‘the home of the smiling porker’ in reference to the meatpacking factory’s logo (although they recently changed it to this ‘sunshine thing‘ in order to draw attention away from all the ‘pig killing’ they do). On warm, sunny days, it was possible to smell the meat rendering plant from as far as two miles away. It wasn’t a pleasant smell, but it smelled like home. Children (like myself) enjoyed growing up in this town (actually the town over, but close enough).

this pig is happy cause he has a death wish

The town was not as young as most would think, incorporated in 1898. So, in 1998, in order to celebrate their centennial, Hatfield decided to manufacture commerative sweatshirts. These boasted a fancy design featuring a train in three vibrant colors: red, yellow, and black. The design was so nice that it maybe could have been the town seal, but I’m not actually sure about that. The people went crazy for the sweatshirts, almost everyone in town had one, including one of my parents (not sure if mom, or dad, but I know there was one in my house growing up). Everyone proudly wore their hatfield borough shirts in the streets, declaring their undying love for the town. Of course, the sweatshirts also loved the attention bestowed upon them, and took it upon themselves to be as bright and beautiful as they knew how. All but one, of course.

memorize that blurry sign, questions later

This one sweatshirt had greater aspirations, he wanted to travel, to see the world, and to become something more that just a commemerative sweatshirt. So, late at night, he decided to sneak out of the sweatshirt storage facility and stole away on a boat headed for a distant land/country/continent.

This is where the tale gets uncertain. But this we know: for many years, the sweatshirt traveled all over the globe, visiting many sights and seeing many things. Even though he was made of a strong 50/50 poly-cotton blend, he began to become weary of traveling, and decided it was time to settle down. He made the decision that the next place he would stop would be his resting place. He waiting until the next stop on his train, and exited onto the platform. The problem was, the signage was in a strange language/alphabet he didn’t understand, he tried desperately, but he couldn’t make the words out.TOMCK? WTF? HOW DO U SAY TOMCK? TOMK?

the C is an S, silly sweatshirt.

He approached a sly looking man, and asked him ‘could you plz tell me where I am?’ the man looked at him and said ‘Смотри! Он умеет говорить!’ and snatched the sweatshirt into a bag and stole away with him into the night.

The next thing the sweatshirt knew, he found himself in a strange place with other clothing from bygone eras. He hoped that someone there would be able to understand him. He asked a backpack next to him, who replied in a strong German accent ‘You are in Siberia, Ver it iz wery cold. Ze willage is called Tomsk.’ The sweatshirt barely had time to react, when a pair of hands snatched him off the shelf. He noticed the hands were soft and delicate with dainty fingers. Then a soft, melodic voice washed over him, it sounded much like the man at the train station but much more pleasant. He felt happy and content, and didn’t even notice being stuffed into a bag and taken elsewhere.

He awoke to find himself being worn on the torso of a girl, who treated him very kindly. She wore her newfound sweatshirt with pride, and everyone admired her, for it was such a lovely sweatshirt. So lovely, that it caught the eye of a young gentleman in the hallway, who happened to be born in the next town over so long ago. He approached her and asked ‘where did you find this sweatshirt?’, to which she replied ‘In a second-hand store, of course.’ He then explained that this was a small town, a very small town next to where he was born in the suburbs of Pennsylvania, and that seeing this sweatshirt so far from that town was quite remarkable. He was so flabbergasted by the notion that he asked her if he could take a picture in order to remember this moment, and she obliged.

Effin' blew my mind

(PS- I honestly can’t believe that this really happened, can’t believe that somehow that sweatshirt somehow made it all the way from Hatfield, PA to Tomsk, Russia.)

By Keith Birthday | Posted in Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment

Poland I: Warsaw/Beatbox Maracas/Wait We Understand Polish?/Where the Milk Bars at?

March 10, 2010 – 12:34 am

part two in an apparently ongoing series about Keith Birthday’s recent travels through Europe. part one here

It was probably the most absurd thing that I had seen/heard in a while, the ‘DJ’ in this Warsaw basement bar was making a ‘shicka-shicka’ sound into the microphone in rhythm to the music, in what appeared a very lame attempt at beatboxing along with the music. At that point I wondered two things: a.) did he actually think that it sounded good? and b.) why on earth did he decide that the best sound to use in order to accompany the music was a half-assed maraca? Looking at K and the Australian and the other Australian they all seemed to agree, and we all imitated him and laughed.

K and I had arrived in Poland the day previous via train from Berlin. The train ride had been essentially uneventful, in fact there we didn’t even know that we had crossed the border until we were startled awake by a man yelling at us in a language we didn’t understand (GDE PRSYZYWSYZYSYZY?) In fact, this was the first country I had been in a long time where I felt utterly incapable in the native language, so I felt a little timid as we exited the train into the concrete monolith that is the Warsaw main train station. I surely felt intimidated.

These fears disappeared quickly, though as soon as we realized that Polish sounded a hell of a lot like Russian, just with more ‘sh’ and ‘zh’ and ‘dz’ shoved in there for good measure. We could read signs. I’m sure I baffled more than one Polish citizen when they would ask me a question in Polish and I would reply in English, not knowing how to otherwise.

Warsaw is not a super interesting city, very soviet/industrial looking towards the center complete with an additional ‘sister’ type building in the middle looking very much like its Moscovian counterparts. But tucked away near the river is the old city, mostly rebuilt after the war. I was absolutely charmed by the lights/xmas/new year’s feelings in the air.

stalin wuz here

see how pretty? old city Warsaw

But we weren’t there just for tourism, we were on a quest to eat at one of the fated ‘milk bars’ that we had heard about.

What is a milk bar (Mleczny Bar)? At first I thought of the popular image conjured up by multiple viewings of A Clockwork Orange, but this is not the case whatsoever. I guess the best way to describe it would be a small cafeteria type thing. What I mean by that is that it’s a small place usually very spartanly decorated in the most charmingly post-soviet fashion that serves food and drink for really cheap prices. The food is simple, but delicious and satisfying. You can basically get soup, a main course, and a coffee for something like 5 dollars. Even better is the diverse clientele, everyone from students to old ladies to single mothers to workers are there.

luv u milk bar in warsaw

Even better, no one who works there speaks any English, being that these places are not the usual tourist magnets. So K and I found ourselves hilariously struggling with the language at the counter. Luckily a lot of the food words are the same or at least recognizable. We got our orders out, were served our food, and say down to eat a delicious meal.

Why Milk Bar? This is not based in any actual fact, but my belief is that they are called milk bars because they are supposed to be the antithesis to ‘beer bars’. At least in Russian, the traditional word for bar is actually the adjectival form of the word beer, so I wouldn’t be surprised if Polish had a similar archaic form (everyone just says ‘bar’ now). Also, in a lot of the Slavic literature I’ve read, it seems that milk is considered the cultural antithesis of beer. Thus I decided that they are called milk bars to distinguish them as the opposite of a beer bar, meaning that they are for real food and nutrition and not for getting drunk.

nothing like a good gulash w/buckwheat

I also now see the presence of a milk bar in A Clockwork Orange as an additional reference to Slavic culture in the novel, beyond the extensive use of Russian words to make up their ‘slang’. Feel smarter/more cultured now.

I could be completely wrong. It could make for a good thesis though.

For additional understanding, read Too Loud a Solitude by Bohumil Hrabal/watch A Clockwork Orange again

luv this book

thnx behindthehype.com/stanley kubrick

By Keith Birthday | Posted in Literature, Photos, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Comments (1)

Sort of liveblogging Joanna Newsom’s “Have One On Me”

March 1, 2010 – 11:43 pm

I found out that NPR was streaming Joanna Newsom’s new album in its entirety. Before finding that out I knew that a track from the album, “Good Intentions Paving Company” (I think) was available for download on Drag City’s site, following a cryptic blog entry bearing the date 2/23/10. My initial reaction to the song, “wow her voice sounds sort of normal”, was probably shared by many. That reaction was probably followed with something like, “oh, I also hear it is going to be a triple LP; that is insane”. Pitchfork, tinymixtapes, and NPR say similar things about the album, things like, “It’s very long so the listener may opt to come back to different parts at different times”. Pitchfork notes that the 3xLP format facilitates this style of listening—you can pick up a disc, listen to a side, and move on. tinymixtapes’ reviewer calls it “almost comically lengthy”. NPR takes for granted that the listener may not be ready for a lengthy “musical adventure”.

Anyway, after lying on my bed for two and some hours while the album streamed I decided that I liked it very much. I also thought it would be funny to sort of review the album (but in reality “poop out words“) while listening to the album in its entirety.

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“It’s listeners like you that make this possible”—Genius. I feel like this is the best way of saying “give us money”.

“Easy”—Easy, Easy. I think alot about this song because I’ve already streamed this a bunch of times and what have you. I’m already wondering if I’m going to be able to do it. Drums came in. What is the deal with the bass drums on this record? They are  very deep. I’ve lost the grasp of what this song is doing but that may be because I don’t really know what I’m talking about. I need to have a cigarette soon. I may smoke an illicit cigarette out of my window. Wait is this a piano song or a harp song? “Tell me your worries, I want to be told”. I should probably be doing something more useful like figuring out my possible identity theft sitch. This song is beautifully arranged. I guess that’s not surprising. It’s pretty sweet when the drums kick in. Damn this song is long . Wonder if I’m going be able to keep this blogging thing up when I start working or whatever. This music sounds very ‘American’, like ‘American Classical Composer’. Newsom went to college for composition I think. On facebook again I need to make an event or something. Sweet piano decay.

“Have One On Me”—Holy Harp! Don’t get the ‘daddy long legs thing’. In the night, in the night. Back. There’s a big black spinder hangin’ over my door, can’t go anywhere. Not really surprised. I already have a feeling that this is not going to go really well. Why am I doing this. More recordings should have oboe and bassoon. I played bassoon in high school. I should have gone for that. I was going to go outside today but I’m tired. Hearing Newsom’s overdubbed harmonies unnerves me; her vibrato is very very controlled. What else could I be doing today? How many listens willit take to have a grasp of these songs? I have trouble figuring out where I am in  general.

“”81″—I get confused because Newsom is “redefining pop”. This music comes from a different tradition, something more formal —it’s inflected by the blues or whatever but it’s not built on the blues, it has a different starting point (classical music, broadly writ?) but it’s being packaged as pop. Like, dig the Newsom’s press shot (below),

Seems like when Jewel got sexy or something like that.

“Good Intentions Paving Company”—Sweet song name! I think this is the song that was streaming from Drag City’s site in the week or so before Have On Me came out. Here come the multitracked vibrato’d out harmonies come in. She’s a little Diva Like here. When will Joanna Newsom appear on VH1. I think this is the song that made everyone think, “oh fuck what happened to her voice, it’s all normal now”. Read: concession to pop packaging maybe. Some people probably see this as selling out to an extent. When will Good Intentions Paving Company soundtrack a Chevy commercial? As I’ve gotten older I’ve lost my veneer of vague anarcho-leftist sympathies and now await the day when I can make an assload of money selling a song to British Petroleum or maybe Shell. It’s really too bad; what became of me. It’s hard to listen to a real artist. I wonder if Newsom has been approached for some kind of endorsement deal. Like, I bet she could get a sweet harp endorsement—but only if Yamaha can convince her to switch to their wood laminate composite harp product (with lasers!).

“No Provenance”—The bass drum sounds huge. It must be one of those really big ones that orchestras use. I just realized this. The turnaround in this song is great. Some winds interject and you find yourself in a totally different part. I would like to see what Newsom’s writing process is like. Oboe! Back to the head. And the turnaround turns you to a little new bit and back to the head. The horns are becoming more and more insistent; now there is less harp. I would really like to see this live. I wonder how they recorded this. I wonder of Newsom would assent to a click track. What would it have been like to be the shitty dude who Newsom dated in High School/College. No Provenance. I remember first hearing about her from a Chuck Klosterman article; he said something like, “Her voice is so awesome. I would be disappointed if she turned out to be attractive. I hope her face looks like melted cheese.” I guess he was hoping for a Susan Boyle.

“Baby Birch”—This song is big-upped on NPR:

I suggest trying the song “Baby Birch.” Texturally, it’s one of the most compelling tracks on a record with a lot of orchestral adventures. This song, however, has more textural counterpoint, with an edgy electric guitar appearing alongside Newsom’s harp. That electric guitar is performed by Ryan Francesconi, and he’s also playing acoustic guitar, Bulgarian tambura (long-necked lute) banjo, mandolin and soprano recorder — and that’s just on the one song. Francesconi did the arrangements and conducting on the record, though Newsom wrote her own harp and vocal arrangements.

My buddy was like, “she uses texture- like three times in the paragraph”

I suggest trying the song “Baby Birch.” Texturally, it’s one of the most compelling tracks on a record with a lot of orchestral adventures. This song, however, has more textural counterpoint, with an edgy electric guitar appearing alongside Newsom’s harp. That electric guitar is performed by Ryan Francesconi, and he’s also playing acoustic guitar, Bulgarian tambura (long-necked lute) banjo, mandolin and soprano recorder — and that’s just on the one song. Francesconi did the arrangements and conducting on the record, though Newsom wrote her own harp and vocal arrangements.

Notes: Ha! Edgy electric guitar! I’m not sure how the writer means ‘edgy’ but I agree in one sense. The guitar in the track is a lot of edge and no body; like it’s transparent. It cuts through the track but doesn’t overwhelm it. Not sure if it’s ‘edgy’ as in ‘hard core’.The paragraph moves on to impress reader with the overdubbing feats of Ryan

What the fuck the stream just stopped. Now listening track by track. Dammit.

Francesconi. I guess this is sort of like NPR explaining music to the masses. The tone of, “That electric guitar is performed by Ryan Francesconi, and he’s also playing acoustic guitar, Bulgarian tambura (long-necked lute) banjo, mandolin and soprano recorder — and that’s just on the one song”, just seems so terribly NPR and I don’t know why—what is it to be ‘so terribly NPR’? Condescension in the air. Let’s see when NPR said in their “First Listen” treatment of the Dirty Projectors’ most recent album, Bitte Orca.

The members of Dirty Projectors have a well-earned reputation for dismantling standard melodic forms and chord structures and rearranging the elements until they no longer resemble the kinds of songs most people are used to hearing. The result is idiosyncratic and complex, but it’s also the sort of musical thrill ride that some listeners won’t enjoy. Still, love it or hate it, it’s hard not to be impressed with what Dirty Projectors’ members have accomplished. Bitte Orca is awe-inspiringly executed and marked by sparkling imagination.

I’m using this quote because there was no paragraph in the Bitte Orca article serving the same function as the “Baby Birch” paragraph in the Have One On Me article—e.g. a song analysis with production notes. Both articles, however, do address the fact the albums are difficult/out there.

Actually, I’ll rephrase that: You must hear “Have One on Me” when you’re ready for a musical adventure. This isn’t casual listening, and while that’s usually code for “This record is hard to get through,” this isn’t a difficult record.

“On A Good Day”—Oh my that was a shorty.

“You and Me Bess”—Sometimes I think that part of the reward of listening to difficult music is that it makes you feel good about yourself for having listened to difficult music. I think it’s a status thing. It’s what separates us from the mouth breathers. The value of the music is not in the music. Well it sort of is. But I feel like we might be doing musicians a disservice, treating them like t-shirts or silly/non functional eyewear. Sometimes I wonder if I even like music. How do you like music? Is music cool because it’s good or good because it’s cool or both because ornaments your alternative or mainstream life?

“In California”—Sweet triplet bassline or whatever. Didn’t Vampire Weekend release a song about California? Vampire Weekend is a good example of the point sort of outlined above. But whatever. I hear it is douchey to defend Vampire Weekend but is it douchey to attack attacking Vampire Weekend because it’s 1) fashionable and 2) easy? Let the matter pass over in silence I guess. Every song on this album is very good to great.

“Jackrabbits”—Noticing that hi brow contemporary ‘pop’ (or ‘conceptual-core’?) tends to involve extended song forms and complex percussion. They tend to evince a sophisticated grasp of harmony/mastery of some stringed instrument as well as several other instruments. Some rely on electronics (Grizzly Bear, Animal Collective, Panda Bear) and  animal names while grounding them in some alternate -folk universe. Seems like most conceptual projects tend to employ synths, electronic drums, samplers. I get this feeling to the extent that I feel like picking up a guitar without plugging into at least 2 Line6 delays is a waste of time. I would group Newsom into the genre of ‘hi brow contemporary pop’ (or hbcp; or hubcap) but she clearly isn’t a pedal player.

“Go Long”—Starting to lose it. Newsom’s hubcap is probably borne out of her mix of formal music training and ‘pop sensibility’. I don’t like this song.

“Occident”—This song is much better than “Go Long”. Reading Street Boners and TV Carnage.

“Soft As Chalk”—This article is pretty extreme. Also gchatting about band practice tonight. Fuck. The piano songs are good. Sucked into the Google Reader hole.

“Esme”—The end is near. Damn near exhausted. Ok, back on task. It’s a beautiful town / with the rain comin’ down. I feel very calm now writing this though before I felt very anxious/afraid about doing this. This album is a good album for lazing, it’s controlled, it’s placid. My impressions may change with a lyrics sheet. I feel similarly to this album as I do Vashti Bunyan’s Just Another Diamond Day. That’s an easy/fashionable comparison but I’d like to compare them for their calming effects. When I was writing papers in Philadelphia in my room and it was very cold, Just Another Diamond Day was like a cup of hot cocoa. I also used to find Testbild’s Imagine A House incredibly calming. My then girlfriend bought it for me, and when I panicked after her leaving for school, Imagine A House was just about the only thing that allowed me to sleep. I was still at home and I didn’t hang out with anybody and I secretly smoked but didn’t drink.

“Autumn”—Something about this song tells me, “you are near the end of the album”.  “Autumn” reminds me of “Go Long” but with a better melody. Or something. No, fuck that – they are totally different songs. “Autumn” sounds ‘big’. I think it’s all the strings and maybe some more reverb overall. The word might be ‘epic’; ‘epic’ like seeing a full string section’s bowing arms playing all at the same time so the orchestra looks like unified organism.

“Ribbon Bows”—I think you ought to read a Great American Novel while listening to this album. Last time I listened to Have One On Me was lying down reading Sometimes A Great Notion. The minor turn in this song was very good. Would listen again. Also. I just checked my Bandcamp account, which offers a statistical break down of how many people listened to which songs and whether they listened to the whole song or not. I sort of like the feature but am afraid that I’m going to end up ‘focus grouping’ the songs.

“Kingfisher” “Does Not Suffice”—Second to last song. Wondering if I should embed the NPR stream here. Holy shit that sudden fade out of her voice before the fiddle solo rocks. Weird noise loop at the end? Sweet. Oh what the fuck. Clicking on “Kingfisher” and then “Does Not Suffice” on NPR’s player yield the same song. What the fuck is this? Really? “Kingfisher” seems to be missing.

What an ending! That’s all folks!

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By rubpawpress | Posted in Music | Tags: , , , , | Leave a Comment

Some of the greatest times I’ve never had (and the music that would have accompanied them)

February 28, 2010 – 5:26 pm
  1. Driving barefoot from Albuquerque to Santa Fe on a summer’s day, thunderheads in the distance (music: Richmond Fontaine, Thirteen Cities)


  2. Lying in the cab of a pickup truck with hs sweetheart as the sun sets on makeout point (music: Built to Spill, There’s Nothing Wrong With Love)


  3. Driving cross country through a midnight snowstorm (music: Jesus and Mary Chain, Darklands)


  4. First stint in a sensory deprivation chamber (music: Jac Berrocal, Fatal Encounters)


  5. Skipping class senior year of high school to get drunk on whiskey and ride bikes down to the river (music: King Khan and BBQ Show, s/t)


  6. Sitting at home while my girlfriend is out having lunch with her movie star ex-bf (music: Gary Wilson, So You Think You Really Know Me?)


  7. Getting to test-drive the first ever hoverboard prototype (music: XTC, Skylarking)


  8. Getting sucker-punched in the eye in front of all of my friends (music: Harvey Milk, Courtesy and Goodwill Towards Men)


  9. Driving home after dropping my hs sweetheart off at college, knowing full well that it’ll never be the same again (music: The Wrens, Meadowlands)


  10. Being the first and only human being on Mars, missing all my friends back home (music: Lucky Dragons, Dream Island Laughing Language)


  11. Seconds before I plunge to my imminent demise beneath the surging waters of the Bermuda triangle (music: Scott Walker, The Drift)


  12. Meeting a girl at a friend’s birthday party and getting her number. Walking home afterward down deserted streets still damp from a recent rain (music: Young Marble Giants, Colossal Youth)


Post your own in the comments!

By tonyorlandoshouse | Posted in Uncategorized | Tags: , , | Leave a Comment

Photos found when typing ‘.jpg’ into spotlight

February 25, 2010 – 12:05 pm

I was looking for photos that may or may not have been lost in the great ibook meltdown of 2009. Specifically these pictures were taken by me a little more than a year ago when I first visited Seattle meaning to write an article about it, a travel narrative. That didn’t work out; the article didn’t get published, and somewhere along the line I forgot to put all the pictures on my external hard drive. Perhaps I had? I didn’t really know so I did some poking around. Using spotlight, I queried my antique external hard drive for ‘photo’, which yielded pictures of my ex I wish I didn’t still have. I tried ‘Seattle’ and got to a folder with notes I took during the trip. I tried ‘.jpg’ and found photos I had forgotten about and some I had never known to exist. The photos I was looking for are probably gone forever.

(from top to bottom)

Mercer Street, Fishtown, Philadelphia. The ‘NO NO PARKING’ sign makes more sense if you know that the sidewalk in front of that fence is sinking.

The Bell Tower, Temple University, Philadelphia. Every Friday this douche would come out to the Bell Tower and scream about Jesus while painting these pictures. I asked my ultra Catholic friend (he’s in seminary now!) what he thought of this guy. My friend said that some people are more concerned with showing off their faith than actually worshiping God.

The El, Kensington, Philadelphia. I waiting for the train, the sun was going down. I love Kensington.

Danger Danger Gallery. I went to see Blues Control because they were opening before Growing and my friend was really into Growing. I wanted to see Blues Control because I saw them listed on Kurt Vile’s myspace as an influence.

The Bathhouse, Hicks Street. My roommate was filming in the kitchen; filming in the kitchen involved placing high-wattage light underneath the green mystery fiber awning that spanned our ‘backyard’. Did not know the awning was translucent.

???. Upon looking at the file path for these two, I figured that they must be on the Adobe staff or something. But what are they on my computer?

???. I think this is in India.

Union Carbide (Dow) Factory, Bhopal, India. This is just inside the gates of the factory responsible for one of the worst industrial disasters ever. On December 3 1984, a shit ton of Toxic Fucking Gas escaped from the site, killing 8,000 outright. 25,000 have died ‘to date’ thanks to the long term poisoning of Bhopal’s water / nasty shit everywhere (via). The site hasn’t been cleaned up. The victims were the sort of people that would end up living close to a pesticides plant, e.g. they were / are ‘poor as fuck’. Perhaps it’s not a surprise, then that little to no action has been taken to punish those responsible for this incident or to help those still affected. Except for these guys. Or, rather, NGO / Activist intervention have been substituted for an actual corporate or government response. Also this:

I went to Bhopal trying to gain access to the factory. It didn’t really work out but there was this kid that followed me into the first set of gates (before the checkpoint / police men’s card club); I asked him if I could take his picture.

Some Hotel, Diu. Sarah got very, very sick multiple times during her stay in India.

Raj Mahal, Dhangadra. Sarah with dogs. This was the courtyard where we slept during the first weeks of our stay, when it was totally hot ass summer and not at all wet ass monsoon. The dogs were the palace’s resident strays.

Rah Mahal, Dhangadra. Leah and…totally forget his name. Damn. They are on a motorcycle.

Some city in India.

Fairmont (sort of), Philadelphia. Tiff decided to be me for Halloween. I took it as a testament to the strength of my personal brand.

By rubpawpress | Posted in Photos, Pictures | Tags: , , , | Leave a Comment
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