Tuesday, July 26, 2005

How To Make Friends and Irritate People.

I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge a couple of blogs that have linked to me in the last couple of days, or that I’ve stumbled upon during my first few days of loserdom. Apparently, some people have actually been reading this stuff, a fact which I find rather astonishing. This marks the first time anyone has read anything I’ve written since the time I spray painted “Go Back To Africa” over the bay windows of a Chinese restaurant. As with that particular occasion, the reaction to my writing seems to be one more of confusion than of anger, but I aim to rectify that by mixing in plenty of rabid, insulting generalizations into increasingly obscure and uninteresting film reviews. Back to the blogs, I’d like to mention Whimsy, Inc. by a Mr. Neale Van Fleet. Neale is approaching the internet blogging community as more of a visual medium, as opposed to a text based entity, with short, photo intensive posts that are brief but addictive, written in a straightforward, honest style that is somewhat soothing. Neale also has the stones to criticize my lack of paragraphing, to which I point out the fact that I have long felt that paragraphs are for immigrants, too wrapped up in trying to buy long-distance phone cards in grocery stores using broken English and a fistful of strangely shaped currency to understand the concept of stream of conscious narrative and its potential for amalgamation with non-narrative forms of prose. Next, we have Sean, from Said the Gramophone. Sean’s site is devoted to music, which he clearly loves with a passion. I, personally, hate music more than anything save my stomach ulcers, as evidenced by my refusal to listen to anything not recorded by a Norwegian with a murder conviction, but that doesn’t make Sean’s work any less interesting. He writes very intuitively, with lots of “this song tastes like summer rain” stuff, sort of like he’s taken a whole sheet of blotter acid before popping in the latest CD from whatever navel-gazing, Converse wearing, black-horn rimmed glasses sporting, philosophy degree dropout band is trying to record The White Album again. Good stuff. Then come a couple of sites I haven’t really had the chance to check out too closely, like The Erebus and The Terror, which is a literate and almost instantly absorbing exploration of, well, pretty much anything. The post about people who put records on at parties is immediatly arresting. To bad it’s by a Christian, though. As I sort of signed up for the other side when I was younger, by virtue of a few bad decisions and a few worse tattoos, I’m contractually obliged not to read it, but perhaps I’ll sneak a peak every now and again. Plus, it had a cool link to The Absorbascon, a blog written by a comic book fan who reads comic books more times in a day that I blink in a week, but that may be because I cut off my own eyelids so I wouldn’t fall asleep during late night reruns of The X-Files. Lastly, I was mentioned here, on a website that seems interesting, but I haven’t checked it out too closely. I think the guy makes movies, as evidenced by his excellent film production log section, which explains why he doesn’t agree with my reviews. In order to make films, you must love films. And in order to love films, you must be at least partially brain damaged, because there hasn’t been a good movie made since Edison shot footage of an elephant being electrocuted. I hate movies. Always have, always will, and that tends to come out in my posts. Alright, so that’s pretty much everybody who ever stumbled upon this page insulted, so it’s back to toiling in obscurity. Thanks for your interest.


Blogger Sean said...

yay! pass the blotter acid!

1:17 p.m.  
Anonymous Jordan said...

What about me, Al? Am I not deserving of your wrath?

7:11 p.m.  
Blogger Ash Karreau said...

You don't post enough. My wrath must be cultured and aged, like a combination of mildew and a fine wine. And Sean, I think a move from LSD to angel dust would force your writing style through an interesting transition from poetic surrealism to a misspelled listing of songs that go best with running nude through a succession of plate glass windows. Just a suggestion, if you ever feel a touch of writer's block coming on.

10:16 a.m.  

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