ericboy's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- \"No Love, no glory\" - Damien Rice I'm on a rant: First off, my last post makes me look like a blue-veined dick, which I'm not. The "Dancing and looking for something to fuck" was my friend. I came along for the drinking and dancing. The pursuit of meaningless sex is never my modus operandi when I go out. Truth be told, I wanted to spend time with him [not like that, sicko] and he wanted to get laid [not by me, sicko]. I'll just stop trying to make sense of that now. Secondly, I hate the entire cast of the movie Undiscovered. I find them hard to look at. For a while, they were on MySpace's homepage as "The Undiscovered Talent Search", and I was first stricken with the fact that I recognized all of them as established entertainers, then with the realization that their faces made me want to die. I hate them, and I don't know why. Third, Yahoo's homepage has ads for their addressbuilder service and their instant folder relocation service and blah, blah, blah, which is cool and fine and all. But these ads are accompanied by pictures that a) Don't make any fucking sense, and b)Aren't even good. If you want to showcase some particular photographer's talent or just display some pics from your personal collection, you could at least try to choose some that are either topical or decent. Fourth, what the Hell is up with singers releasing one really kick-ass song, and then filling the rest of their album with absolute CRAP? Case in point: Damien Rice's "The Blower's Daughter" is a beautiful, touching song. I love it; can't get enough of it. His album, O, makes my ass bleed. It's so bad that it almost makes a full circle and come backs to good, but it doesn't, people. It stays at "bad". Example number two: Gary Jules sang vocals on "Mad World" for Michael Andrews' composition for the film soundtrack to Donnie Darko. When Jules finally released an album of his own, Trading Snakeoil for Wolftickets, the cover found its way onto the record, at the end, with the haunting piano and soulful, dirge-voice that people had come to love. The rest of the CD was acoustic guitar, Jack Johsnon-ish surf pop CRAP that made my face bleed. Between these two, I will bleed to death. If you have only one good song, STOP THERE! Leave us alone... I want to say there was a fifth thing that I was going to bitch about but I don't recall. Today is going to be a fun day, because I'm all cranky, but I'm feeling humorous, too. So, I think I'll spend the day compartmentalizing things in rant-format, Denis Leary-style. Look out America, I'm coming for ya. 3:51 p.m. - 2005-08-27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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