My goddamned left nostril will not stop running

I'm not even joking. It actually prevented me from going to see Orthrelm and The Pope tonight at The Che. I simply refused to go to a show, only to sit there the whole time blubbering and wiping my nose.

And I also feel like garbage, for the most part. It could be worse. But now my throat's getting sore from "drainage."

Fuck you, illness.

Perhaps it has something to do with the late night the other night due to Les Savy Fav in L.A. Tuesday night. It's the fourth time I've seen them in four years. I'd like to say they keep getting better, but it's not even true. They kill it equally every time. Tim Harrington is a postmodern genius, passing out pieces of banana and orange, spitting beer and water all over the crowd...I'll let the pictures explain the rest.

I've been obsessing over the new Year Future album, which isn't out until May. It's such an awesome mix of Bauhaus/Joy Division and, like, Black Flag. I also just got the new Black Heart Procession album, which was cool, because I've only ever heard a few random MP3s. But other than that, I have to say the promos I've been getting have been pretty fucking foul. Or at least unappealing. I have to admit, I haven't been listening to too much of what I've gotten lately. I'm really trying to buckle down on my thesis and get that bitch outta the way.

I saw a preview for that Russian trilogy (first installment: Night Watch) that's been getting a huge media blitz of late. It actually looks pretty intense. Maybe it'll be lame, but the preview looks like a promising mix of absurdity, terror and plot.

And Finland keeps on winning in men's ice hockey, which is sweet because it's the only team in the tournament with two Sabres (Toni Lydman and Teppo Numminen). John Davidson was raving about Lydman's work on Russian phenom Alexander Ovechkin today, which made me proud.

I had sushi today.

half the man I used to be...

On a whim I bought the Alice in Chains MTV Unplugged DVD with some birthday money my mom sent me. I didn't have cable back when this came out in 1996 and never had the opportunity to see it live, though I bought the CD after Staley was found dead in 2001.

Back when I was 16, I never really knew just how bad Layne Staley was into the drugs--I think I was too wrapped up in Smashing Pumpkins at this time--or how amazing his voice was despite it. Throughout this gut-wrenching performance Staley sits completely still with his mouth half-open. And inexplicably he sounds like a God. Just as good as Cobain did. But even Cobain wasn't as fucked up then as Staley is here. I'm not sure what it is about this performance and the Nirvana Unplugged, but they make me more nostalgic (in a depressing way) than anything else.

I suppose it's at least partly because of the realization that there are NO good mainstream bands right now. They are all terrible. Nirvana, Alice in Chains, Stone Temple Pilots, Soundgarden, The Smashing Pumpkins and Pearl Jam all, in their best moments, belong on a plane with Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath. You can't say that about anyone right now. Sure, NIN and Radiohead are still kicking, and the White Stripes have their moments, but none of these bands are accompanied by the sense of urgency that accompanied the grunge bands. They could write angry and catchy pop songs that were honest to God amazing.

Don't get me wrong, there's some great underground music, but nothing that will turn the mainstream on it's head. That's when something special happens.

Think about it. What mainstream band right now would you want to see do an Unplugged? I'll give a list of semi-realistic (in an alternate reality) contenders I wouldn't mind hearing--though I can guarantee it'll never happen (all the bands are "past relevance" or not on a major except for the overlaps, which just happen to be ones that are realistic and ones I wouldn't mind seeing):

Radiohead
Arcade Fire
David Bowie
Christina Aguilera
John Legend
White Stripes
Yeah Yeah Yeahs
TV on the Radio
Beastie Boys
Flaming Lips
Beck
Tom Waits
Mos Def (w/the Roots)
Devendra Banhart
Bright Eyes
Animal Collective
Modest Mouse
Sleater-Kinney

Instead, if they brought it back for real, it'd look like this:

Coheed and Cambria
Kanye West
Linkin Park
Jack Johnson
Kelly Clarkson
White Stripes
Bloc Party
Michael Buble
Coldplay
John Legend
Black Eyed Peas
Bright Eyes
Modest Mouse
Foo Fighters

Wouldn't it be something though, if MTV decided to genre-fy the "collective" movement and do grunge-like Unpluggeds with TV on the Radio, Arcade Fire, Wolf Parade, Islands, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Devendra Banhart, Man Man and the Animal Collective? Most of the bands probably wouldn't even participate--which is totally admirable and understandable.

But, really, how awesome would a Xiu Xiu unplugged be?

That's it. I'm starting my own music network.

P.S. When the fuck are the Unplugged DVDs for Nirvana, Pearl Jam, STP, Bjork and Hole coming out?

P.S.S. Don't you think the world would be a much better place if Staley had died sooner and Chris Cornell joined Alice in Chains? It wouldn't be a perfect fit, but it'd be a hell of a lot better than Audioslave...

P.S.S.S. HOLE did an Unplugged???

P.S.S.S.S. I know it's an STP lyric. It just fit.

P.S.S.S.S.S. I almost put Thursday for a band I'd like to hear do an unplugged, because they're a pop emo band that still interests me to some extent. But Geoff Rickly can't sing.

P.S.S.S.S.S.S. All I'm saying is, if MTV wanted to, they could be cool again. Not cool with idiot teens, but COOL.

P.S.S.S.S.S.S.S. I'm going to see Les Savy Fav, The Hold Steady and Thunderbirds Are Now! tonight. In L.A. The only bad thing is it's at the Avalon, but oh well...

Bono's a boner.

I've been looking all over for the transcript of Bono's ridiculous speech last night at The Grammys--not the one where he bitched about not winning album of the year for Achtung Baby or All That You Can't Leave Behind--the first one where he started mumbling philosophic gibberish, that, as far as I can tell, made no sense whatsoever.

I really wanted to be dissecting that right now, but, alas, I'm just left with calling him a pompous, pretentious prick. Sorry dude, but I gave How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb a listen and laughed. It's horrible--almost as dorky as that pile of shit released by Green Day. It's winning a Grammy was justification of just how bad it is. Let's look at some winners over the past few years:

a) Genius Loves Company, Ray Charles & Various Artists (CLASSIC sympathy vote in 2005--the duets are awful.)
b) Come Away With Me, Norah Jones (people weren't so stoked on her when she released her second album of the same ol' shit--2003)
c) O Brother, Where Art Thou? Soundtrack, Various Artists (if anyone still listens to this I'll give them money--2002)
d) Two Against Nature, Steely Dan (WTF? 2001. Pretty bad year. "Who Let the Dogs Out" won best dance recording)
e) Supernatural, Santana (2000. Let's remember that this is the album that gave us "Smooth"--torturing supermarket employees for the rest of history)
f) Falling Into You, Celine Dion (1997. This was before "My Heart Will Go On.")
g) Jagged Little Pill, Alanis Morissette (This 1996 winner is debatable. That it was released the same year as Nirvana's MTV Unplugged in New York makes it a loser. That, and the fact she recently re-recorded the motherfucker acoustic.)
h) MTV Unplugged, Tony Bennett (1995. Yeah, well, also debatable. Old folks love it--can't help that.)
i) The Bodyguard—Original Soundtrack Album, Whitney Houston (1994--OK Bono. Have fun in her company. Also eligible/winning/losing this year: Smashing Pumpkins' Siamese Dream, Nirvana's In Utero and lots of trash: “If I Ever Lose My Faith in You,” Sting; “A Whole New World” (Theme From Aladdin), Peabo Bryson and Regina Belle; “I'd Do Anything for Love” (But I Won't Do That), Meat Loaf, U2's Zooropa.
j) Unforgettable, Natalie Cole with Nat King Cole (1992. Sentimental, again. R.E.M.'s Out of Time came out this year, as did a small album called Nevermind. Out of Time won for best Alternative album. I suppose it's still a toss up, when you take all of the factors into account. But, c'mon.)
k) Back on the Block, Quincy Jones (1991. I've never even heard of this album. We don't need to go any further. Nearly all the music in the mainstream sucked in the 1980s. That MC Hammer was nominated in 1991 is enough for me. Although, 1990 did see, “Twin Peaks Theme,” by Angelo Badalamenti win for best pop instrumental. Sinead O'Connor won the alternative category.)

That expert analysis leaves a few decent years: 2004 (Outkast's Speakerboxx/The Love Below) 1999 (Lauryn Hill's The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill), 1998 (Bob Dylan's Time Out of Mind in a REALLY lean year--think "I Believe I can Fly," Blackstreet and Shawn Colvin), 1993 (Eric Clapton's Unplugged, which got the sympathy vote over Achtung Baby, and I'm ok with that. Other than Nirvana's Unplugged, Clapton's is the best. Also of note this year: Tom Waits won for best Alternative album for Bone Machine. Now, if Boys II Men or Sir-Mix-A-Lot had won, Bono'd have a truly legit gripe).

I know what everyone who thinks they know about music is going to say: these albums were popular, they sold well, they had good "tunes," yadda yadda yadda.

But they're also, pretty much from start to finish, laughingstocks now, or in a couple cases, forgotten.

(Sidenote: where the fuck is Eminem?? I know at least one of his albums was the "best" album the year it came out. I'm calling shenanigans.)

So, yeah Bono, you've got your fucking legacy. Whee. I wish I could be listed in the same breath with Natalie Cole, Celine Dion and Whitney Houston, and have my songs be played in GROCERY STORES. Who-hoo!!! You're mom rock. Way to go. Oh yeah:

Your name is two letters away from being Boner.
And you chose it.
And you're not going to change the world.
And your new music sucks.
And The Edge is cooler than you.
And Mary J. Blige sings your song with more heart than you do.
And your sunglasses make you look like an idiot.
And you will never write a song like "Sunday Bloody Sunday" again.
And you will never write an album like The Joshua Tree ever again.

In watching the Grammy's I actually found a perverse kinship between Bono and Kanye West. If you haven't seen Micha-I-Mean Kanye's outfit from the Grammy's, try to find it online. He is such a cocky piece of shit. Who wears an open shirt besides rapists and losers? Who wears leather gloves in a painful attempt at a fashion statement? Who follows up calling out President Bush on National television with posing as JESUS CHRIST (unironically) on the cover of RollingStone and comes to the Grammys dressed up like they should be playing Tubbs instead of Jamie Foxx, with an attitude of entitlement that would rival Paris Hilton? They're both at that level of "Celebrity" where they aren't even real anymore. As Jen pointed out, Jay-Z (of all people...who would have thought after Jigga Man and all that other bullshit) has acheived a level of cool. He's totally chill...like Dave Grohl. Like David Bowie. Like Bruce Springsteen. Like Eminem. They don't need to fluff themselves up behind imagery (Bowie's grown up a tad since the '70s) to be cultural icons. They just are. They don't need masturbatory awards to prove it.

I listened to a few things while writing this, all of which are better than How To Dismantle an Atomic Bomb: Weird War, Milemarker and White Magic.

Holy Christ. I almost just had a heart attack.

I've been drinking a little and I totally don't even remember why that heart attack occurred.

I think it has to do with the fact I deleted all the cookies and history and whatnot from my computer in a (failed) attempt to see the stupid ass CD reviews I couldn't view on the website. Then I went to the website to update this motherfucker and I couldn't remember the password and username.

I think that's what the heart attack was, because I can't think of anything else it could be.

Anyway, I'm listening to Nation of Ulysses's 13 Point Program to Destroy America. I've (somehow) never heard it. In fact, I really can't believe how much better Plays Pretty for Baby is. Concurrently, I'm downloading albums by Sun Ra, Stereolab, The Gossip, From Monument to Masses, Busdriver and Olyneyville Sound System.

I turned off Nation of Ulysses and now am listening to the Flaming Lips' beauteous Clouds Taste Metallic.

It's true. They taste metallic.

Tomorrow I'll be journeying on up to Los Angeles to check out The Mae Shi, Silver Daggers and Abe Vigoda, popping my cherry on all accounts. I don't feel like getting stuck in ghettolishous traffic, so I'm going to head up around one or two, to *hopefully* miss some of the traffic I'd otherwise hit.

I know I'll get stuck somewhere at some point, but whatever. I'm aiming to hit up Amoeba for a while. I probably won't buy anything since I'm po. But it's always nice to hit up a record store that rules. And, hell, last time I was there i ran into Chuck from The Plot to Blow up the Eiffel Tower and saw Sam Ott (ex-Year Future) and Questlove from the Roots.

Since I'm in a relatively volatile mood, I figured I'd take the time to make fun of people who do things like this: http://community.livejournal.com/alternateicons2/4481.html#cutid1/. Ok. You do realize that YOU ARE NOT A TEENAGE CHICK IN THE 1980s READING TIGERBEAT HOPING TO CATCH THE LATEST GOSSIP ABOUT CHAD ALLEN (who, incidentally is gay) AND KIRK CAMERON (who, incidentally is a born again lunatic), correct?

Good lord. Our culture of celebrity is well beyond hope when musicians from a formerly underground punk band can become cultural icons as well as buddy icons. Fandom is out of control, and I don't really know what to do about it. I appreciate art, and own more than one Ween shirt, but seriously, this kind of gushing is not necessary. What complicates things is that the Mars Volta freak is actually a goddamned teenager from the UK.

I've very recently decided that my entire existence is justified through art appreciation. That is to say that this life is relatively meaningless once you get past personal relationships (which are finite). Art is something that lasts past you that's not an office job for some dumb company working 60 hours a week so you can have a ton of money to leave behind you and not ever use or enjoy.

It's a simplistic/obvious/duh philosophy, I know, but that's that's what my brain's thinking about. At least it was. Now it's thinking about the Flaming Lips. I like them.

I've got to find some way to connote the pictures I've taken and the ones I haven't. I also need a new camera. I took both of those.

Andy: There's something wrong with her panties. Cal: Yeah. They're not in my mouth.

The "unrated" version of The 40-Year-Old Virgin was simply too fucking long. The movie was too long to begin with, and adding a few mildly amusing interchanges between secondary characters and one set of gigantic breasts simply wasn't worth the now longer waits between the hilarious gags. How many times can I write LONG(ER) in one paragraph? I dunno.

End rant.

Begin new rant:

Did anyone watch the Super Bowl? I've never seen officials blow so many calls in such a one-sided fashion for a team I wanted to lose. Of course, I'm a Buffalo fan, so I've seen my fair share of bad calls go against my teams. But by the end of the game I was actually rooting for Seattle because I felt so bad. I mean, their QUARTERBACK got called for an ILLEGAL BLOCK while TACKLING someone on Pittsburgh who had just intercepted the ball. Clotheslining, kicking and grabbing the facemask are illegal--but Hasselbeck just took out the guy's legs and got called for an illegal block. YOU CAN'T BLOCK SOMEONE YOU'RE TACKLING. It makes no sense. I can't even handle the stupity of the call because I've seen incorrect calls before, or even erroneous ones. But they were always at least semi-debatable. This one was not only flat out wrong, but also completely and utterly ridiculous.

And for the record: Roethlisberger was in, there was NO pass interference on what should have been Seattle's first touchdown, and Seattle should string up their place kicker.

In other news, I saw L.A.'s notorious Captain Ahab for the first time, and managed to get the glorious picture above. I have a couple great pictures of Jim in his speedo, but who hasn't seen that?

The Oscars got announced, and this is the first time in a while that I haven't really seen any of the contenders. Maybe that's not true. I dunno. Mainstream dramas just haven't appealed to me over the last few years, and that's all that ever really gets nominated anyway. The awards should really be redefined in some way to let everyone know that comedies, horrors and intelligent strange indie movies are out of the running.
That being said, seeing AMY motha fuckin ADAMS nominated made my life. I haven't even seen Junebug, but it's the goddamned cheerleader from Drop Dead Gorgeous. She also starred in Psycho Beach Party with the gorgeous Lauren Ambrose. That's enough to make me root for her.

The toughest decision for me will be whether to root for Joaquin Phoenix or Phillip Seymour Hoffman. I wish Maria Bello would have gotten nominated for A Brief History of Violence, but I'll settle for William Hurt.

Saw the Sabres win in overtime over at my buddy Chris's house. Thomas Vanek schooled Dominik Hasek in the shootout for the win. This was especially appetizing since Hasek was the Sabres goalie for nine years and left in a huff. Fuck you, buddy.

I apologize for the completely staccato writing style...Jen's dad and I started drinking Bloody Marys at about 10:30 a.m. and then had to sit through all kinds of exhausting family things for way too many hours. It's now after midnight--I'm surprised I can even think.


My second favorite 40-year-old Virgin quote:
David: You know how I know that you're gay?
Cal: How?
David: You have a rainbow bumpersticker on your car that says "I love it when balls are in my face."