Miley Cyrus is a faker.

One of the benefits of having a blog read by a handful of peeps is that I can say things like that and not get a comment box full of hateful responses. I don't know how the more popular bloggers go to sleep at night with all those people saying all those mean things. But she lip synched on the "Bolt" Thanksgiving Float in the Macy's Parade. Go ahead Billy Ray, put up your dukes, I'll make you wish you still had a mullet to protect your neck from my fists of artistic justice.

I spent Thanksgiving down in NYC which started with me missing my train by about 3.5 steps after running a good 1/2 mile at a full sprint from my parking spot. Thanks for that city of PoVegas! Missing my train by that close has never happened to me before and its the only time I've ever wished that it was 1894. If it was, I could have just hopped on the caboose! Plus, I could use the word caboose and no one would give me that head tilted stare which conveys "you're a little old for laughing at slang terms for the word 'butt'".

The subways were packed despite a terrorist threat that they would be attacked. Everyone pretty much decided that chemical warfare would be much better to die from than a $2.50 initial fee then $2.00 a mile cab charge. I also happened to be trying to make my way to a gym downtown when the parade let out near by. From a a distance the entrance to the subway looked like meat being fed into a sausage grinder with all the people pressing themselves down the tube. I had a metro card already so I gingerly passed by the tourists. The fun thing about tourists in the subway is how scared they are of it and of "THE YELLOW TILES". This is a 3 foot section of yellow rubberized matting near the end of the platform that ensures proper footing getting on and off the train. However, if you are a tourist it means that you will be decapitated, electrocuted or perhaps sodomized if you step on it. At least, thats the way every tourist acts when they see it. I use it to cut in front of idiots and get a spot on the train.

The gym was empty, dark, and perfect. No douchebags, no girls, no cardio theatre, and no useless machines. There was, however, plenty of loud techno music. Which I can handle in a workout setting because at least its the same over and over. No Jim Croce or Jonas Brothers or Beyonce while I'm trying to focus on not dislocating my hip joints underneath a squat bar. The day rate was 20 dollars, which was very pricey, but at least I had an excellent workout and didn't get any hair gel residue on my...anything.

I have a love/hate relationship with holidays. I like them because they are fun and easy, but I hate them because they throw such a monkey wrench into my daily "lets stay in shape, perform well athletically, and not get fat" pursuit. Over the course of 3 days, I got 3 workouts in where as I usually get 6. Add to the fact that I ate more than I usually do, and now all you have is a stressed out mindset where you feel like you climbed up 50 feet of rope only to slide back down 25. Plus, now I got rope burn on my hands making it more difficult to climb up again. Was the slide down exhilirating and fun even though it burned a little? sure it was, but all I can think about is how much more rope I have to climb. This endless rope that goes into a cloud I can't see through, but know that I need be.

SV-TV: The videos from this "Purple" album are what drew me to STP. I miss the randomness of the grunge rock era. They were so amatuer and original. I think bands should go find the big youtube artists and hire them to come up with their videos. They seem to be the only authentic video artists left.

bits and bobs

That title is stolen from an english (as in Great Britain) website that I use for buying rowing clothes. It's their term for the "this and that" or "miscellaneous" clothing/accessories department that can't fit in other departments and since they are English, they use 0verly-fancy terms to describe more than simple things. Which is why I like to use their "training kit" clothing to row in, rather than the boring U.S. "workout clothes". Because after all, I'm a fancy lad and deserve to look like one.

I'm reading more and more blogs these days and its opened my eyes a little to what the current "scene" is and the "scene" is both bad and good. With "Noblopamo" or whatever going on (a bloggers pact to post once a day for the entire month of November), we have a real dilution of material out there and just general annoying stuff. Which is basically what happens to everything cool once the general public sees how cool it is. I have also determined that my opinion of the "general public" started out low, and everyday it gets lower and lower. About a year ago, I was at a stand still in that I realized how stupid a majority of the people were and that I should expect the un-expected and try to keep my eyes on the prize, i.e. friends and co-workers and not be distracted by the other monkeys in the cage. Maybe I got bored, or maybe its like a car-wreck where there was one brief glance and now I CAN'T look away. I am in free-fall now and I'm scared/excited as to how low the "general public" can go in my mind. I thought they were at rock bottom. Then I began to see this stinky molten lava core seeping between the cracks in the bedrock and I think I have only just begun.

Blogs and their reading was probably a lot like the early days of driving automobiles. There were no rules and no schmucks! The only people who drove cars were the ones that really wanted to and each car was totally different from the next. These were the real "drivers" who drove for the sake of loving how "driving" felt. They probably waved hi to each other and shared tips on how to get out of the mud and how much a pain in the ass it was to move Farmer Jack's Moo Cow out of your way. You could drive as fast as you wanted and park it where you wanted and drive on whatever side of the road was convenient . You could explore new roads and drive to places you had never been before!

Then as more and more of the general public took to the roads, they got cluttered with people who didn't belong out there. People who weren't driving for the enjoyment, but because it was easily available for them to own an automobile. Now we got problems. We got people driving slow, driving drunk, breaking cars and not knowing how to fix them, crashing into other cars, demanding rules and judging other drivers. Which is why we have the current road rage problem.

Some of the things the public brought were good. Paved roads are good, cheaper cars are good, signs are good. But then they brought bad things too......bad drivers and traffic.

I guess its the lifespan of all activities. Really fun at first, then inklings of its potential bad side, then its bad side is completely revealed, struggle with your identity/place in the activity, balance out pros vs. cons, re-assess and adapt to mesh activity with identity or quit.

I can't quit though and I am going to try to be more friendly. And I am going to try to stop harping on blogging every day and come up with some new non-nerd things. But I don't have much going on, so you will have to deal with these naval-staring posts till I get that private island with a fully stocked gym, calm water to row on, and unlimited funding and lots of movie/rock star friends. For now, I can't help but complain about being stuck here reading a blog about what she wore today and why its cool, her boyfriends ex-roomate that has a bad attitude, and the recipe for what she is cooking for dinner and why she likes this way over her mothers recipe I hate it so much I can't look away or a blog about how much he hates other bloggers and stupid music videos (ah shit, that's my blog).

Overheard at the gym from a 40 year old man who considers himself in shape (no one else does) "I've been so hungry lately! For lunch, I had a BIG CAN of soup, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a bag of popcorn and 2 sodas"

Not much going on with this post so enjoy this video which solve the "who should I get to introduce me when I win the nobel prize" conundrum and enjoy the new music video which features indie music, yet again.....or........don't.

Russian Rivers

Good news to those who love iTunes and may like to purchase some of the songs from the artists on this list. ( I know no one will, but its my blog and I can endulge illusions of grandeour if I want to) I am going to be copying my "SVC best of 2007" playlist to the iMix function. Encapsulating one song that I like from each album. It will probably set you back 20 bones or so, but if you dig the list or are unsure if you will, then it will be worth it. I have also organized it in stellar S.Vincent fashion which means the playlist will flow perfectly from start to finish. I'll give you more details once the list is complete.
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I hate having to park far away when I go to the gym. That seems wrong cause I am going there to exercise and yet I hate having to get exercise before I get in there, but its true. I'm not sure if it's because I'm usually in a rush due to a late arrival, the coldness of the current season, the narrow sidewalk that makes 2 people walking on the same path very difficult, the fact that i have a large gym bag, or I am just lazy. It could be one of those things more so than the others, but I am pretty sure I am aggravated by all of those factors. That and the fact that all the other cars in the parking lot belong to people who are either in there being douchebags, walking on the treadmill at a snail pace, pedophiles eyeing up underage girls, or soccer players (enough said). Can you tell that I go to the gym with a lot of frustration? No? Well I do.......so here is another Gym Rule to live by.

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GYM RULE: The handle on the front of the treadmill is for emergencies only, Lurch. You are not supposed to turn the treadmill up to full speed, hang onto the handle, and clomp along like an idiot. If you can't run/walk on a treadmill without holding onto something, you probably shouldn't be on it. Go sit down on the floor and wait for Orderly Williams to scoop you up and take you back to the home.

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NUMBER 6: Okkervil River "The Stage Names"- Love the VanGogh schizophrenic style album cover. Okkervil River is another great band from the Austin, Texas area. Although, I am not sure if you can really qualify them as being from Austin given that all the band members are high school friends from Meridan, New Hampshire, seperated by college, then re-united in Austin to form this band. Sure seems like Austin is the happenin' music place to be these days. You can catch a few country guitar sounds in this album so they are a little bit influenced by their surroundings, but this is a indie-rock album through and through.

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The band name comes from a short story by Tatyana Tolstaya about the Okkervil River in St. Petersburg Russia. I have no idea what the story is about, but it would probably be pretty hard to read since Lead vocalist/band leader William Sheff is all over the place with his lyrics. I am actually still trying to decipher the storys of his songs and I have had this album for 4 months now. You'd almost need a degree in English to pull out his message, but thats okay, the musicianship on this album is crisp and the songs are all so diverse from track to track that the lyrics are a bonus if you can get them. There is plenty of catchable phrases that give you some kind of hint and you can just roll with that.
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This band reminds me a little of Arcade Fire. which is probably why I like this album so much. But as much as some sounds and songs sound like Arcade Fire, it really doesn't risk plagerisim. They use some similar musical styles, but Arcade Fire is much more elegent, involved and dense while Okkervil is much more loose and pleasantly simple using more of the classic guitar and percussion format. That doesn't mean Okkervil is simplistic, just that their songs are more comfortable in their shell. No extravagence, just simple theatrical indie-folk rock drama.

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That's probably the signature feel of this album is its wailing dramatics. William Sheff wails and rolls with his band in a method similar to Arcade Fire with a little less shout and a lot more depression. My favorite is "Our Life is not a Movie, or Maybe" which I think is a song about how life can be like making a movie in which there is all these great ideas and a passion for what the movie should look like, but that it never turns out the way you pictured it in your head. The reality of the camera not always catching the image the way you had it in your head at the start.

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I look for more great things from this band, but I am not sure if they can match this album. Their previous album, Black Sheep boy, was quite good as well but there is such a wide range of song diversity between all the tracks, that any song on this album could be a format for an entire album. In that way, this is almost a "Best of" album without intending to do so. But good luck anyway to the boys from Russia/New Hampshire/Texas........

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Song Samples: Our Life is Not a Movie, Or Maybe, Unless its Kicks

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the difference between intelligent and experienced

S.Vincent: (said to 35 year old buddy) Yo, you tryin to steal my woman?

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Big T: Ha, oh you and her have potential huh? (in regards to 30 something year old girl he just finished chatting with)

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S.Vincent: heck yeah.....well, I have lots of potential everywhere I go, but I was just kidding anyway. Besides, I think shes 10% normal and 90% psycho so............ she's all yours.

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Big T: How did you graduate college without knowing that they are all 100% psycho?

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the names have been changed to protect the innocent mack daddy

funny, creepy, or odd?

I tried to think of the most accurate term to describe an observation I had the other evening at the gym.

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For those who don't know, I am a member of the legendary Gold's Gym franchise. Or should I say, once legendary, for being the birth place of modern body-building. Now, Gold's gym is just barely tolerable as opposed to the other gyms in town which are adult versions of Chucky Cheese.

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That said, the bathrooms are not personalized by the members. They are no different then the bathrooms at the movie theatre, gas station, or McDonald's. Therefore, there is never any reading material in the bathrooms......or should I say......there never WAS.

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On my Tuesday session, an edition of Seventeen Magazine was sitting shotgun to the toilet. That's right, a Seventeen Magazine. My gut reaction was laughter. I love anything out of the ordinary when it comes to group dynamics. The naked guy at the party? Gets a high five from me. The kid who makes the sudden fart noises during class? Gets a high five from me. The guy who laughs during church? Gets a sign of the cross from me. The water balloon thrower who bombs the courtyard? Is me

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However, there is also a bit of creeped-outness to this discovery. Did someone understand the humor in this and place it there so everyone could get a laugh or was it some pervert doing pervert things with it? It should also be said that this magazine is not one of the many magazine the gym keeps on hand for people to distract themselves on the elliptical. I know this because those have un-removable sweat guards on them, while this magazine was as rambunctiously free as its target audience.

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I decided that the event was all 3 terms; funny, creepy, and odd. A trifecta! That said, I'll take one or all of those things that makes any of the 100 pee-trips I make per day unique.

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The picture above the toilet at work still takes the cake. This is still the creepiest picture I have ever seen and it faces me as I pee. I think one day I am going to steal it and keep it in my bathroom at home. Here is the picture, don't stare for a longer duration then it take to pee, I think it may steal pieces of your soul to provide itself energy to exist outside of hell.........

This post written while listening to: Bruce Springsteen "Radio Nowhere"

Breaking News: I'm the father of Anna Nicoles Baby.

Tons of foul weather in the home town today. Which means the roads belong to S.Vincent and his reckless SUV. I refuse to let weather stand in my way of being a nuisence to everyone in the county, and from claiming my rights as the father of young Dannielynn. Anna and I had a romantic escapade involving a dozen creme-filled donuts and some injectable horse tranquilizers. I have numerous witnesses to support that Anna and I have a regular donut and horse tranquilizer habit, and when the two of us met, it was an explosive love affair. I think her mother and the dog were there too, but on horse tranqulizers and custard, I saw Grimace there too, so who knows. I am very sorry for her death but I want to make sure that young Danniholiwhassit is well provided for and with the natural father, which is me.

My favorite part of going to the gym (besides hotties, tanning, sneezing on people, and giving wedgies to old women) is to make up new nicknames for people that they will never know. Here are a few examples of names that I use with a straight face...... Senior D-bag, Muscle Mania, Muscle Mania sr., Punk Rock, The Alien, Puffer, Ball Girl, Muffin Top, Slut Cake, Nascar Bob, and Smoker Bob. I feel like a mother of a newborn baby everytime some freak shows up and becomes worthy of nickname. However, I do not enjoy these people.....with the exception of ball girl. Their nicknames are created because they drew attention to themselves through negative attention, and thus I dislike them. I give names to my pain and frustrations, and these are the names I give them.

How does a gas pump know when your tank is almost full? There must be some sort of simple technology at play since they've had this feature since 19 dickity 2, but I'll be damned if I can figure it out.

Some of you may be looking for the secret to my witful words and elegant writing style. Well I can tell you that it would not be possible if not for my fantastic keyboard with its soothing mechanical key-strokes that click like an old friendly type-writer. The soothing rythem allows my mind to wander to peaceful places that spread my imagination wide across the plains like smooth peanut butter on toast. If you enjoy using your computer and have the means, I highly suggest picking one up.

Its been a decade now, and I still need to know the motivation behind wearing your pants like this on a daily basis. Its not cool or comfortable or attractive. It is the picture of idiocy. Seriously, state your case.

If you need to know whether or not the Grammys is a respectable awards show, all you need to know is that the Dixie Chicks won the award for Album of the Year. In other news; I am giving the local toothless hooker with the face tattoo and 50 inch waist the award for Northeasts best looking person. Give me a primetime network slot and some validation in name only please. I know thats a real easy joke to make, ha ha the grammys are stupid haha, but it really makes me angry that country shit gets album of the year; and year after year something allows them to make a decision on musical talent despite a horrendous record of decision making. I support pollution of rivers more than I support decisions made by this "academy".

This Post written while listening to: Arcade Fire "Neon Bible"